228 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

for their accomplies; they tell one another all they know, and
often more too; when, of a sudden, some accident disperſes
them, and they think no more of each other, unleſs it be to
betray and laugh at their imprudent confidence. Remember to
make a great difference between companions and friends; for a
very complaiſant and agreeable companion may, and often does,
prove a very improper, and a very dangerous friend. People will,
in a great degree, and not without reaſon, form their opinion of
you, upon that which they have of your friends; and there is a
Spanish proverb, which ſays, very juſtly, *Tell me who you live with,
and I will tell you who you are.* One may fairly ſuppofe, that a
man, who makes a knave or a fool his friend, has ſomething very
bad to do, or to conceal. But, at the fame time that you care-
fully decline the friendſhip of knaves and fools, if it can be called
friendſhip, there is no occaſion to make either of them your
enemies, wantonly, and unprovoked; for they are numerous
bodies; and I would rather chufe a ſecure neutrality, than alli-
ance, or war, with either of them. You may be a declared ene-
my to their vices and follies, without being marked out by them
as a perſonal one. Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to
their friendſhip. Have a real reſerve with almoſt every body ;
and have a ſeeming reſerve with almoſt nobody; for it is very
diſagreeable to ſeem reſerved, and very dangerous not to be ſo.
Few people find the true medium; many are ridicuſly myſte-
rious and reſerved upon trifles; and many imprudently commu-
nicative of all they know.

The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of
your company. Endeavour, as much as you can, to keep company
with people above you. There you rife, as much as you fink
with people below you; for (as I have mentioned before) you
are, whatever the company you keep is. Do not miſtake, when

I ſay

TO HIS SON.

I ſay company above you, and think that I mean with regard to
their birth; that is the leaſt consideration: but I mean with re-
gard to their merit, and the light in which the world confiſders
them.

There are two forts of good company; one, which is called the
beau monde, and conſits of thofe people who have the lead
in Courts, and in the gay part of life; the other conſits of
thofe who are diſlinguified by ſome peculiar merit, or who excel
in ſome particular and valuable art or ſcience. For my own part,
I uſed to think myſelf in company as much above me, when I was
with Mr. Addiſon and Mr. Pope, as if I had been with all the
Princes in Europe. What I mean by low company, which ſhould
by all means be avoided, is the company of thofe, who, abſolutely
inſignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are ho-
noured by being in your company, and who flatter every vice
and every folly you have, in order to engage you to converſe with
them. The pride of being the first of the company, is but too
common; but it is very filly, and very prejudicial. Nothing in
the world lets down a character more, than that wrong turn.

You may poſſibly aſk me, whether a man has it always in his
power to get into the beſt company ? and how ? I ſay, Yes, he has,
by deferving it; provided he is but in circumſtances which enable
him to appear upon the footing of a gentleman. Merit and good-
breeding will make their way every where. Knowledge will in-
troduce him, and good-breeding will endear him to the beſt com-
panies; for, as I have often told you, politenefs and good-breed-
ing are abſolutely neceſſary to adorn any, or all other good qua-
lities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perſection
whatſoever, is ſeen in its beſt light. The Scholar, without good-
breeding, is a Pedant; the Philofopher, a Cynic; the Soldier,
a Brute; and every man diſagreeable.

I long

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230

I long to hear, from my several correspondents at Leipzig, of your arrival there, and what impression you make on them at first; for I have Argufes, with an hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true; it depends upon you, entirely, of what kind they shall be. Adieu.

LETTER XCVII.

London, October the 16th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

THE art of pleasing is a very necessary one to possess; but a very difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules; and your own good sense and observation will teach you more of it than I can. Do as you would be done by, is the best method that I know of pleasing. Observe carefully what pleases you in others, and probably the same things in you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance and attention of others to your humours, your taresses, or your weaknesses, depend upon it, the fame complaisance and attention, on your part, to theirs, will equally please them. Take the tone of the company, that you are in, and do not pretend to give it; be ferious, gay, or even trifling, as you find the present humour of the company: this is an attention due from every individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in company; there is nothing more tedious and disagreeable: if by chance you know a very short story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject of conversation, tell it in as few words as possible; and even then, throw out that you do not love to tell stories; but that the shortness of

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it

TO HIS SON.

231

it tempted you. Of all things, banish the egotism out of your conversation, and never think of entertaining people with your own personal concerns, or private affairs; though they are interesting to you, they are tedious and impertinent to every body else: besides that, one cannot keep one's own private affairs too secret. Whatever you think your own excellencies may be, do not affectly display them in company; nor labour, as many people do, to give that turn to the conversation, which may supply you with an opportunity of exhibiting them. If they are real, they will infallibly be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, and with much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat and clamour, though you think or know yourself to be in the right; but give your opinion modestly and coolly, which is the only way to convince; and, if that does not do, try to change the conversation, by faying, with good humour, "We shall hardly " convince one another, nor is it necessary that we should, so " let us talk of something else."

Remember that there is a local propriety to be observed in all companies; and that what is extremely proper in one company may be, and often is, highly improper in another.

The jokes, the bons mots, the little adventures, which may do very well in one company, will seem flat and tedious, when related in another. The particular characters, the habits, the cant of one company may give merit to a word, or a gesture, which would have none at all if divested of those accidental circumstances. Here people very commonly err; and, fond of something that has entertained them in one company, and in certain circumstances, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it is either infidious, or, it may be, offensive, by being ill-timed, or misplaced. Nay, they often do it with this filly preamble; "I will tell you an "excellent thing;" or, "I will tell you the best thing in the "world."

LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

232

"world." This railes expectations, which, when absolutely dif-
appointed, make the relator of this excellent thing look, very de-
fervedly, like a fool.

If you would particularly gain the affection and friendship of
particular people, whether men or women, endeavour to find out
their predominant excellency, if they have one, and their pre-
vailing weakneſs, which every body has; and do juſtice to the
one, and ſomething more than juſtice to the other. Men have va-
rious objects in which they may excel, or at least would be thought
to excel; and, though they love to hear juſtice done to them,
where they know that they excel, yet they are moſt and beſt
flattered upon thofe points where they wifh to excel, and yet
are doubtful whether they do or not. As for example; Cardi-
nal Richelieu, who was undoubtedly the ableſt Stateſman of his
time, or perhaps of any other, had the idle vanity of being
thought the beſt Poet too; he envied the great Corneille his re-
putation, and ordered a criticism to be written upon the Cid.
Thofe, therefore, who flattered ſkilfully, ſaid little to him of
his abilities in ſlate affairs, or at least but en paffant, and as it
might naturally occur. But the incenſe which they gave him,
the ſmoke of which, they knew, would turn his head in their fa-
vour, was as a bel esprit and a Poet. Why ? Because he was ſure
of one excellency, and diſtruſtful as to the other. You will eafily
discover every man's prevailing vanity, by obſerving his favourite
topic of converſation; for every man talks moſt of what he has
moſt a mind to be thought to excel in. Touch him but there,
and you touch him to the quick. The late Sir Robert Walpole,
(who was certainly an able man) was little open to flattery upon that
head; for he was in no doubt himſelf about it; but his prevailing
weakneſs was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn to
gallantry; of which he had undoubtedly leſs than any man living:
it

TO HIS SON.

233

it was his favourite and frequent ſubject of converſation; which
proved, to thofe who had any penetration, that it was his pre-
vailing weakneſs. And they applied to it with ſucceſs.

Women have, in general, but one object, which is their
beauty; upon which, ſcarce any flattery is too groſs for them to
swallow. Nature has hardly formed a woman ugly enough, to
be inſenſible to flattery upon her perſon; if her face is ſo ſhock-
ing, that ſhe muſt, in ſome degree, be conſious of it, her figure
and her air, ſhe truſts, make ample amends for it. If her figure
is deformed, her face, ſhe thinks, counterbalances it. If they
are both bad, ſhe comforts herſelf, that ſhe has graces; a certain
manner; a je ne ſrais quoi, ſtill more engaging than beauty. This
truth is evident, from the ſtudied and elaborate drefs of the
uglieſt women in the world. An undoubted, unconteſted, con-
ſious beauty, is, of all women, the leaſt ſenſible of flattery upon
that head; ſhe knows it is her due, and is therefore obliged to
nobody for giving it her. She muſt be flattered upon her under-
flanding; which, though ſhe may poſſibly not doubt of herſelf,
yet ſhe ſuſpects that men may diſtruſt.

Do not miftake me, and think that I mean to recommend to
you, abjeſt and criminal flattery: no; flatter nobody's vices or
crimes: on the contrary, abhor and diſcourage them. But there
is no living in the world without a complaifant indulgence for
people's weakneſſes, and innocent, though ridiculous vanities. If
a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a woman handſomer,
than they really are, their error is a comfortable one to them-
felves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I
would rather make them my friends, by indulging them in it,
than my enemies, by endeavouring (and that to no purpofe) to
undeceive them.

There are little attentions, likewife, which are infinitely en-
VOL. I.
H h gaging,

234

LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

gaging, and which fenfibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which is infeparable from human nature; as they are un-queftionable proofs of the regard and confidencation which we have for the perſons to whom we pay them. As for example; to obſerve the little habits, the likings, the antipathies, and the taſtes of thofe whom we would gain; and then take care to provide them with the one, and to fecure them from the other; giving them, genteely, to underſtand, that you had obſerved they liked ſuch a diſh, or ſuch a room; for which reaſon you had prepared it: or, on the contrary, that having obſerved they had an averſion to ſuch a diſh, a diſlike to ſuch a perſon, &c. you had taken care to avoid preſenting them. Such atten-tion, to ſuch trifles, flatters ſelf-love much more than greater things, as it makes people think themſelves almoſt the only objects of your thoughts and care.

Theſe are ſome of the arcana's neceſſary for your initiation in the great ſociety of the world. I wifh I had known them bet-ter, at your age; I have paid the price of three-and-fiſty years for them, and ſhall not grudge it, if you reap the advantage. Adieu.

LETTER XCVIII.

London, October the 30th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

I AM very well pleafed with your *Itinerarium*, which you ſent me from Ratibon. It ſhows me that you obſerve and in-quire as you go, which is the true end of travelling. Thofe who travel heedeſily from place to place, obſerving only their diſtance from each other, and attending only to their accommo-dation

235

TO HIS SON.

dation at the inn at night, ſet out fools, and will certainly return ſo. Thofe who only mind the raree ſhows of the places which they go through, ſuch as ſteepleſ, clocks, town-houſes, &c. get ſo little by their travels, that they might as well ſtay at home. But thofe who obſerve, and inquire into the ſituations, the ſtrength, the weakneſs, the trade, the manufaſtures, the govern-ment, and conſtitution of every place they go to; who frequent the beſt companies, and attend to their ſeveral manners and characters; thofe alone travel with advantage: and as they ſet out wife, return wiser.

I would advife you always to get the ſhorteſt deſcription or hiftory of every place where you make any ſtay; and ſuch a book, however imperſect, will ſtill ſuggeſt to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may get better informations from the people of the place. For example; while you are at Leipſig, get ſome ſhort account (and to be ſure there are many ſuch) of the prefent ſtate of that town, with regard to its magiſtrates, its police, its privi-leges, &c. and then inform yourſelf more minutely, upon all thofe heads, in converſation with the moſt intelligent people. Do the fame thing afterwards with regard to the Electorate of Saxony: you will find a ſhort hiftory of it in Puffendorf's Introduction, which will give you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects of a more minute inquiry. In ſhort, be curi-ous, attentive, inquiſitive, as to every thing; liftleſſneſs and in-dolence are always blameable, but, at your age, they are un-pardonable. Confider how precious, and how important for all the reſt of your life, are your moments for theſe next three or four years; and do not loſe one of them. Do not think I mean that you ſhould ſtudy all day long; I am far from advifing or defiring it: but I defire that you would be doing ſomething

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236 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

or other all day long; and not neglect half hours and quarters of
hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For in-
flance; there are many short intervals in the day, between studies
and pleafures: instead of fitting idle and yawning, in thate inter-
vals, take up any book, though ever so trifling a one; even down
to a jeft book; it is still better than doing nothing.

Nor do I call pleafures idlenefs, or time loft, provided they are
the pleafures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain por-
tion of your time, employed in thate pleafures, is very usefully
employed. Such are public ſpectacles, afflemblies of good com-
pany, chearful fuppers, and even balls: but then, thate require
attention, or elfe your time is quite loft.

There are a great many people, who think themſelves em-
ployed all day, and who, if they were to caſt up their accounts
at night, would find, that they had done juſt nothing. They
have read two or three hours, mechanically, without attending to
what they read, and, conſequently, without either retaining it,
or reaſoning upon it. From thence they ſaunter into company,
without taking any part in it, and without obſerving the charac-
ters of the perſons, or the ſubjects of the converſation; but are
either thinking of ſome trifle, foreign to the prefent purpofe, or,
often, not thinking at all; which filly and idle ſupſenſion of
thought, they would dignify with the name of abſence and diſprac-
tion. They go afterwards, it may be, to the play, where they
gape at the company and the lights; but without minding the
very thing they went to, the play.

Pray do you be as attentive to your pleafures as to your ſlu-
dies. In the latter, obſerve and reflect upon all you read; and
in the former, be watchful and attentive to all that you fee and
hear; and never have it to fay, as a thousand fools do, of things
that

TO HIS SON.

that were faid and done before their faces, That, truly, they did
not mind them, becauſe they were thinking of ſomething elfe.
Why were they thinking of ſomething elfe? and, if they were,
why did they come there? The truth is, that the fools were
thinking of nothing. Remember the *hoe age*: do what you are
about, be that what it will; it is either worth doing well, or
not at all. Wherever you are, have (as the low, vulgar expref-
fion is) your ears and your eyes about you. Lifen to every thing
that is faid, and fee every thing that is done. Obſerve, the looks
and countenances of thate who ſpeak, which is often a furer way
of diſcovering the truth, than from what they fay. But then
keep all theſe obſervations to yourſelf, for your own private uſe,
and rarely communicate them to others. Obſerve without being
thought an obſerver; for, otherwife, people will be upon their
guard before you.

Confider ſeriously, and follow carefully, I beſeech you, my dear
child, the advice which from time to time I have given, and
ſhall continue to give you; it is at once the reſult of my long
experience, and the effect of my tenderneſs for you. I can have
no intereſt in it but yours. You are not yet capable of wifhing
yourſelf half ſo well as I wifh you; follow therefore, for a time at
leaſt, implicitly, advice which you cannot ſuſpect, though poſſibly
you may not yet fee the particular advantages of it: but you
will one day feel them. Adieu.

LETTER