 CHESTORFIELD'S LETTERS TO HIS SON LEAD FOR LIBERVOX.ORG INTO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN LETTER XXVII LONDON, FEBRUARY 9, OLD STYLE, 1748 DEAR BOY, you will receive this letter not from a secretary of state but from a private man, for whom, at his time of life, quiet was as fit and as necessary as labour and activity are for you at your age, and for many years yet to come. I resigned the seals last Saturday to the king, who parted with me most graciously, and I may add, for he said so himself with regret. As I retire from hurry to quiet, and to enjoy at my ease the comforts of private and social life, you will easily imagine that I have no thoughts of opposition or meddling with business. OTIUM COM DIGNITATE is my object. The former I now enjoy, and I hope that my conduct and character entitle me to some share of the latter. In short, I am now happy, and I found that I could not be so in my former public situation. As I like your correspondence better than that of all the kings, princes, and ministers in Europe, I shall now have ledger to carry it on more regularly. My letters to you will be written, I am sure, by me, and I hope read by you with pleasure, which I believe seldom happens, reciprocally, to letters written from and to a secretary's office. Do not apprehend that my retirement from business may be a hindrance to your advancement in it, at a proper time. On the contrary, it will promote it, for having nothing to ask for myself, I shall have the better title to ask for you. But you have a still-sure way than this of rising, and which is wholly in your own power. Make yourself necessary, which with your natural parts you may, by application, do. We are in general in England ignorant of foreign affairs, and of the interests, views, pretensions, and policy of other courts. That part of knowledge never enters into our thoughts, nor makes part of our education. For which reason we have fewer proper subjects for foreign commissions than any other country in Europe? And when foreign affairs happen to be debated in Parliament, it is incredible with how much ignorance. The harvest of foreign affairs being then so great, and the laborers so few, if you make yourself master of them, you will make yourself necessary, first as a foreign, and then as a domestic minister for that department. I am extremely well pleased with the account which you give me of the allotment of your time. Do but go on so, for two years longer, and I will ask no more of you. Your laborers will be their own reward, but if you desire any other that I can add, you may depend upon it. I am glad that you perceive the indecency and turpitude of those of your common so who disgrace and foul themselves with dirty whores and scoundrel game-sters, and the light in which I am sure you see all reasonable and decent people consider them will be a good warning to you. Adieu. CHAPTER XXVIII. LONDON. February 13. OLD STYLE. 1748. Dear boy, your last letter gave me a very satisfactory account of your manner of employing your time at Leipzig. Go on so but for two years more, and I promise you that you will outgo all the people of your age and time. I thank you for your explanation of the Schriftsassen and Ampsassen, and pray let me know the meaning of the Lansassen. I am very willing that you should take a Saxon servant who speaks nothing but German, which will be a sure way of keeping up your German after you leave Germany. But then I would neither have that man, nor whom you have already, put out of livery, which makes them both impertinent and useless. I am sure that as soon as you shall have taken the other servant your present man will press extremely to be out of livery, and valet de chambre, which is as much to say that he will curl your hair and shave you, but not condescend to do anything else. I therefore advise you never to have a servant out of livery, and though you may not always think proper to carry the servant who dresses you abroad in the rain and dirt, behind a coach or before a chair, yet keep it in your power to do so if you please by keeping him in livery. I have seen Monsieur and Madame Fleming, who gave me a very good account of you, and of your manners, which to tell you the plain truth were what I doubted of the most. She told me that you were easy and not ashamed, which is a great deal for an Englishman at your age. I set out for Bath to-morrow for a month, only to be better than well, and enjoy in quiet the liberty which I have acquired by the resignation of the seals. You shall hear more from me at large from thence, and now good-night to you. LETTER XXIX. Bath. February 18. OLD STYLE. 1748. DEAR BOY. The first use that I made of my liberty was to come here where I arrived yesterday. My health, though not fundamentally bad yet, for want of proper attention of late, wanted some repairs, which these waters never fail giving it. I shall drink them a month, and return to London, there to enjoy the comforts of social life, instead of groaning under the load of business. I have given the description of the life that I propose to lead for the future in this motto, which I have put up in the frieze of my library in my new house. I must observe to you upon this occasion that the uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in that library will be chiefly owing to my having employed some part of my life well at your age. I wish I had employed it better, and my satisfaction would now be complete. But, however, I planted while young that degree of knowledge which is now my refuge and my shelter. Make your plantation still more extensive. They will more than pay you for your trouble. I do not regret the time that I passed in pleasures. They were seasonable, they were the pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. If I had not, I should probably have overvalued them now, as we are very apt to do what we do not know. But knowing them as I do, I know their real value, and how much they are generally overrated. Or do I regret the time that I have passed in business, for the same reason? Those who see only the outside of it imagine it has hidden charms which they pant after, and nothing but acquaintance can undeceive them. I, who have been behind the scenes, both of pleasure and business, and have seen all the springs and pulleys of those decorations which astonish and dazzle the audience, retire not only without regret, but with contentment and satisfaction. But what I do, and ever shall regret, is the time which, while young, I lost in mere idleness and in doing nothing. This is the common effect of the inconsideracy of youth, against which I beg you will be most carefully upon your guard. The value of moments when cast up is immense, if well employed, if thrown away their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment may be put to some use, and that with much more pleasure than if unemployed. Do not imagine that by the employment of time I mean an uninterrupted application to serious studies. No, pleasures are, at proper times, both as necessary and as useful. They fashion and form you for the world, they teach you characters, and show you the human heart in its unguarded minutes. But then remember to make that use of them. I have known many people, from a laziness of mine, go through both pleasure and business with equal in attention, neither enjoying the one nor doing the other, thinking themselves men of pleasure because they were mingled with those who were, and men of business because they had business to do, though they did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose. Do it thoroughly, not superficially. A profondesse, go to the bottom of things. Anything half done or half known is, in my mind, neither done nor known at all. Nay worse, it often misleads. There is hardly any place or any company where you may not gain knowledge, if you please. Almost everybody knows some one thing and is glad to talk upon that one thing. Seek and you will find in this world as well as in the next. See everything, inquire into everything, and you may excuse your curiosity, and the questions you ask which otherwise might be thought impertinent by your manner of asking them, for most things depend a great deal upon the manner. As for example, I am afraid that I am very troublesome with my questions, but nobody can inform me so well as you, or something of that kind. Now that you are in a Lutheran country, go to their churches and observe the manner of their public worship. Attend to their ceremonies, and inquire the meaning and intention of every one of them. And as you will soon understand German well enough, attend to their sermons, and observe their manner of preaching. Inform yourself of their church government, whether it resides in the sovereign or in consistatories in Siddhants. Once arises the maintenance of their clergy, whether from tithes as in England, or from voluntary contributions, or from pensions from the state. Do the same thing when you are in Roman Catholic countries. Go to their churches. See all their ceremonies. Ask the meaning of them. Get the terms explained to you. As, for instance, prime, terse, sext, nuns, matins, angeles, high mass, vespers, complines, et cetera. Inform yourself of their several religious orders, their founders, their rules, their vows, their habits, their revenues, et cetera. But when you frequent places of public worship, as I would have you go to all the different ones you meet with, remember that, however erroneous, they are none of them objects of laughter and ridicule. Honest error is to be pitied, not ridiculed. The object of all the public worships in the world is the same. It is that great eternal being who created everything. The different manners of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each sect thinks its own is the best, and I know no infallible judge in this world to decide which is best. Make the same inquiries wherever you are, concerning the revenues, the military establishment, the trade, the commerce, and the police of every country. And you would do well to keep a blank paper book, which the Germans call an album, and there, instead of desiring, as they do, every fool they meet with to scribble something, write down all these things as soon as they come to your knowledge from good authorities. I had almost forgotten one thing, which I would recommend as an object for your curiosity and information, that is, the administration of justice, which, as it is always carried on in an open court, you may, and I would have you, go and see it with attention and inquiry. I now have but one anxiety left, which is concerning you. I would have you be what I know nobody is, perfect. As that is impossible, I would have you as near perfection as possible. I know nobody in a fairer way toward it than yourself, if you please. Never were such pains taken for anybody's education as for yours, and never had anybody those opportunities of knowledge and improvement which you have had, and still have, I hope. I wish, I doubt, and fear alternately. This only I am sure of, that you will prove either the greatest pain or the greatest pleasure of yours. Section 14 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 30. Bath. February 22. Old Style. 1748. Dear Boy. Every Excellency, and every Virtue, has its kinder advice or weakness, and if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or the other. Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice, courage into rashness, caution into timidity, and so on. Even so much that, I believe, there is more judgment required for the proper conduct of our Virtues than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice in its true light is so deformed that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly ever seduce us if it did not at first wear the mask of some Virtue. But Virtue is in itself so beautiful that it charms us at first sight, engages us more and more upon further acquaintance, and as with other beauties we think excess impossible. It is here that judgment is necessary to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. I shall apply this reasoning at present, not to any particular Virtue, but to an Excellency, which for want of judgment is often the cause of ridiculous and blamable effects. I mean great learning, which if not accompanied with sound judgment frequently carries us into error, pride, and pedantry. As I hope you will possess that Excellency in its utmost extent, and yet without its two common failings, the hints which my experience can suggest may probably not be useless to you. Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide and give judgment without appeal. The consequence of which is that mankind, provoked by the insult and injured by the oppression, revolt, and in order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in question. The more you know, the modester you should be, and, by the by, that modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem rather doubtful. Represent but do not pronounce, and if you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself. Others to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a school education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of the ancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as something less. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets. They stick to the old good sense. They read none of the modern trash, and will show you plainly that no improvement has been made in any one art or science these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you disowned your acquaintance with the ancients, but still less would I have you brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of the moderns without contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry. Judge them all by their merits, but not by their ages, and if you happen to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither show it nor mention it. Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all their maxims, both for public and private life, from what they call parallel cases in the ancient authors. Not considering, that in the first place, there never were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel, and in the next place, that there never was a case stated or even known by any historian with every one of its circumstances, which, however, ought to be known in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the case itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly, but not from the authority of ancient poets or historians. Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous, but take them as helps only, not as guides. We are really so prejudiced by our education that, as the ancients defy their heroes, we defy their madmen, of which, with all do regard for antiquity, I take Leonidas and Cirtius to have been two distinguished ones. And yet a solid pedant would, in a speech in Parliament, relative to attacks of two pence in the pound upon some community or other, quote those two heroes as examples of what we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have known these absurdities carried so far by people of injudicious learning that I should not be surprised if some of them were to propose, while we are at war with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be kept in the tower upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome received in a parallel case from a certain number of geese in the capital. This way of reasoning, and this way of speaking, will always form a poor politician and a purile disclaimer. There is another species of learned men who, though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less impertinent. These are communicative and shining pedants who adorn their conversation even with women, by happy quotations of Greek and Latin, and who have contracted such a familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors that they call them by certain names or epithets denoting intimacy, as old Homer, that sly rogue Horace, Morrow, instead of Virgil, and Nassau, instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by coxcoms who have no learning at all, but who have got some names and some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and impertently retail in all companies in hopes of passing for scholars. If, therefore, you would avoid the accusation of penitry on one hand or the suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstained from learned ostentation, speak the language of the company that you are in, speak it purely and un-larded with any other, never seem wiser nor more learned than the people you are with, wear your learning like your watch in a private pocket, and do not pull it out and strike it, merely to show that you have one. If you are asked what a clock it is, tell it, but do not proclaim it hourly and un-asked, like the watchman. Upon the whole, remember that learning, I mean Greek and Roman learning, is a most useful and necessary ornament, which it is shameful not to be master of, but at the same time most carefully avoid those errors and abuses which I have mentioned, and which too often attend it. Remember, too, that great modern knowledge is still more necessary than ancient, and that you had better know perfectly the present than the old state of Europe, though I would have you well acquainted with both. I have this moment received your letter of the seventeenth new style, though I confess there is no great variety in your present manner of life, yet materials can never be wanting for a letter. You see, you hear, or you read something new every day, a short account of which, with your own reflections thereupon, will make out a letter very well. But since you desire a subject, pray send me an account of the Lutheran establishment in Germany, their religious tenants, their church government, their maintenance, authority, and titles of their clergy. Vittorio Siri, complete, is a very scarce and very dear book here, but I do not want it. If your own library grows too voluminous, you will not know what to do with it when you leave Leipzig. Your best way will be, when you go away from thence, to send to England, by Hamburg, all the books that you do not absolutely want. Yours. Letter thirty-one. Bath. March first, old style, seventeen forty-eight. Dear boy. By Mr. Hart's letter to Mr. Grevenkopf, of the twenty-first of February new style, I find that you had been a great while without receiving any letters from me. But by this time, I daresay, you think you have received enough, and possibly more than you have read, for I am not only a frequent, but a Prolex correspondent. Mr. Hart says in that letter that he looks upon Professor Mascow to be one of the ablest men in Europe, in treaty and political knowledge. I am extremely glad of it, for that is what I would have you particularly apply to, and make yourself perfect master of. The treaty part you must chiefly acquire by reading the treaties themselves, and the histories and memoirs relative to them. Not but that inquiries and conversations upon those treaties will help you greatly, and imprint them better in your mind. In this course of reading, do not perplex yourself, at first, by the multitude of insignificant treaties which are to be found in the core diplomatic, but stick to the material ones which altered the state of Europe, and made a new arrangement among the great powers, such as the treaties of Munster, Newmagen, Risswick, and Utrecht. But there is one part of political knowledge which is only to be had by inquiry and conversation, that is, the present state of every power in Europe, with regard to the three important points of strength, revenue, and commerce. You will therefore do well, while you are in Germany, to inform yourself carefully of the military force, the revenues, and the commerce of every prince and state of the empire. To write down those informations in a little book, for that particular purpose. To give you a specimen of what I mean. The electorate of Hanover. The revenue is about five hundred thousand pounds a year. The military establishment, in time of war, may be about twenty-five thousand men, but that is the utmost. The trade is chiefly linens exported from Stad. There are coarse woolen manufacturers for home consumption. The minds of hearts produce about one hundred thousand pounds in silver annually. Such informations you may very easily get, by proper inquiries of every state in Germany, if you will but prefer useful to frivolous conversations. There are many princes in Germany who keep very few or no troops, unless upon the approach of danger, or for the sake of profit, by letting them out for subsidies to great powers. In that case you will inform yourself what number of troops they could raise, either for their own defense, or furnished to other powers for subsidies. There is very little trouble and an infinite use in acquiring of this knowledge. It seems to me, even to be a more entertaining subject to talk upon, than la pluie et la beautin. Though I am sensible that these things cannot be known with the utmost exactness, at least by you yet, you may, however, get so near the truth that the difference will be very immaterial. Pray let me know if the Roman Catholic worship is tolerated in Saxony, anywhere but at court, and if public mass houses are allowed anywhere else in the electorate. Are the regular Romish clergy allowed, and have they any convents? Are their military orders in Saxony, and what? Is the white eagle a Saxon or a Polish order? Upon what occasion, and when was it founded? What number of nights? Adjou, God bless you, and may you turn out what I wish. I must from time to time remind you of what I have often recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much, sacrifice to the graces. The different effects of the same things, said or done, when accompanied or abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. They prepare the way to the heart, and the heart has such an influence over the understanding that it is worthwhile to engage it in our interest. It is the whole of women who are guided by nothing else, and it has so much to say, even with men, and the ableist men too, and it commonly triumphs in every struggle with the understanding. Monsieur de Rochevacot, in his maxims, says that l'esprit est souvent la duc du coeur. If he had said, instead of souvent, presque toujours, I fear he would have been nearer the truth. This being the case, aim at the heart. Intrinsic merit alone will not do. It will gain you the general esteem of all, but not the particular affection, that is, the heart of any. To engage the affections of any particular person, you must, over and above your general merit, have some particular merit to that person by services done or offered, by expressions of regard and esteem, by complacence, attentions, etc., for him. And the graceful manner of doing all these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or rather ensures, their effects. From your own observation, reflect what a disagreeable impression and awkward address, a slovenly figure, an ungraceful manner of speaking, whether stuttering, muttering, monotony, or drawing, and inattentive behavior, etc., make upon you at first sight in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though for ought you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect, on the other hand, how much the opposites of all these things prepossess you, at first sight, in favor of those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do not. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, conspire to form these graces, this je ne sais quoi that always please. A pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree of dress, and harmonious voice, something open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing, a distinct and properly varied manner of speaking, all these things and many others are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing je ne sais quoi, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded that, in general, the same things will please or displease them in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it, and I could heartily wish that you may often be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Mind and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and in manners. It is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things, and they call it being merry. In my mind there is nothing so illiberal and so ill-bred as audible laughter. True wit or sense never yet made anybody laugh, they are above it. They please the mind and give a cheerfulness to the countenance. But it is low buffoonery or silly accidents that always excite laughter. And that is what people of sense and breeding should show themselves above. A man's going to sit down, in the supposition that he has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breach for want of one, sets a whole company a- laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it. A plain proof, in my mind, how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is, not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily restrained, by a very little reflection. But as it is generally connected with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing and as apt to be pleased as anybody, but I am sure that, since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people at first, from awkwardness, and mauve eon, have got a very disagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak. And I know a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing without laughing, which makes those who do not know him take him at first for a natural fool. This and many other very disagreeable traits are owing to mauve eon at their first setting out in the world. They are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted, they do not know what they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance, which tricks afterwards grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in their nose, others scratch their heads, others twirl their hats. In short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency does not justify the thing, and all these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses, though not criminal, indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, as they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remember that to please is almost to prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it. You who have your fortune to make should more particularly study this art. You had not, I must tell you, when you left England, Les Menus Prevenants, and I must confess they are not very common in England, but I hope that your good sense will make you acquire them abroad. If you desire to make yourself considerable in the world, as if you have any spirit you do, it must be entirely your own doing, for I may very possibly be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own rank and fortune will not assist you. Your merit and your manners alone can raise you to figure in fortune. I have laid the foundations of them by the education which I have given you, but you must build the superstructure yourself. I must now apply to you for some information, which I dare say you can, and which I desire you will give me. Can the elector of Saxony put any of his subjects to death for high treason, without bringing them first to their trial in some public court of justice? Can he, by his own authority, confine any subject in prison as long as he pleases without trial? Can he banish any subject out of his dominions by his own authority? Can he lay any tax whatsoever upon his subjects, without the consent of the states of Saxony? And what are those states? How are they elected? What orders do they consist of? Do the clergy make part of them? And when and how often do they meet? If two subjects of the electors are at law, for an estate situated in the electorate, in what court must this suit be tried? And will the decision of that court be final, or does their lion appeal to the imperial chamber at Wetzler? What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magistrates, of civil and criminal justice? What is the common revenue of the electorate, one year with another? What number of troops does the elector now maintain? And what is the greatest number that the electorate is able to maintain? I do not expect to have all these questions answered at once, but you will answer them in proportion as you get the necessary and authentic information. You are, you see, my German oracle, and I consult you with so much faith that you need not, like the oracles of old, return ambiguous answers, especially as you have this advantage over them, too, that I only consult you about past and present, but not about what is to come. I wish you a good Easter fair at Leipzig. See with attention all the shops, drolls, tumblers, rope dancers, and talk genus Omne, but inform yourself more particularly of the several parts of trade there. Adieu. End of Section 15. Read by Professor Heather Mby. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 16 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 33. London, March 25, Old Style, 1748. Dear boy, I am in great joy at the written and the verbal accounts which I have lately received of you. The former, for Mr. Hart, the latter, for Mr. Tavanyan, who has arrived here, they conspire to convince me that you employ your time well at Leipzig. I am glad to find you consult your own interest and your own pleasure so much, for the knowledge which you will acquire in these two years is equally necessary for both. I am likewise particularly pleased to find that you turn yourself to that sort of knowledge which is more peculiarly necessary for your destination. For Mr. Hart tells me you have read, with attention, Chalier, Piquet, and Richelieu's Letters. The memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz will both entertain and instruct you. They relate to a very interesting period of the French history, the Ministry of Cardinal Mazarin, during the minority of Louis XIV. The characters of all the considerable people of that time are drawn in a short, strong, and masterly manner, and the political reflections, which are most of them printed in italics, are the justice that I ever met with. They are not the labored reflections of a systematical closet politician, who without the least experience of business sits at home and writes maxims, but they are the reflections which a great and able man formed from long experience and practice in great business. They are true conclusions, drawn from facts, not from speculations. As modern history is particularly your business, I will give you some rules to direct your study of it. It begins, properly, with Charlemagne in the year 800. But as in those times of ignorance the priests and monks were almost the only people that could or did write, we have scarcely any histories of those times, but such as they have been pleased to give us, which are compounds of ignorance, superstition, and party zeal. So that a general notion of what is rather supposed, than really known to be, the history of the five or six following centuries, seems to be sufficient, and much time would be but ill-employed in a minute attention to those legends. But reserve your utmost care and most diligent inquiries from the fifteenth century and downward. Then learning began to revive, and credible histories to be written. Europe began to take the form, which, to some degree, it still retains. At least the foundations of the present great powers of Europe were then laid. Louis XI made France, in truth, a monarchy, or as he used to say himself, la mythure de page. For his time there were independent provinces in France, as the Duchy of Brittany, etc., whose princes tore it to pieces, and kept it in constant domestic confusion. Louis XI reduced all these petty states, by fraud, force, or marriage, for he scrupled no means to obtain his ends. About that time, Ferdinand, king of Aragon, and Isabella his wife, Queen of Castile, united the whole Spanish monarchy, and drove the Moors out of Spain, who had until then kept possession of Granada. About that time, too, the House of Austria laid the great foundations of its subsequent power. First, by the marriage of Maximilian with the heiress of Burgundy, then by the marriage of his son Philip, Archduke of Austria, with Jane, the daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, and heiress of that whole kingdom, and of the West Indies. By the first of these marriages, the House of Austria acquired the seventeen provinces, and by the latter, Spain and America, all which centered in the person of Charles V, son of the above-mentioned Archduke Philip, the son of Maximilian. It was upon account of these two marriages that the following Latin mystic was made, Bella Garand Alií, to Felix Austria Nube, Namcoa, Mars Alies, that TV Regna Venus. This immense power, which the Emperor Charles V found himself possessed of, gave him a desire for universal power, for people never desired all till they have gotten a great deal, and alarmed France. This sowed the seeds of that jealousy and enmity which have flourished ever since between those two great powers. Afterward the House of Austria was weakened by the division made by Charles V of his dominions, between his son Philip II of Spain and his brother Ferdinand, and has ever since been dwindling to the weak condition in which it is now. This is a most interesting part of the history of Europe, of which it is absolutely necessary that you should be exactly and minutely informed. There are, in the history of most countries, certain very remarkable eras, which deserve more particular inquiry and attention than the common run of history, such as the revolt of the seventeen provinces, in the reign of Philip II of Spain, which ended in forming the present republic of the seven united provinces, whose independency was first allowed by Spain at the Treaty of Munster. Such was the extraordinary revolution of Portugal in the year 1640, in favour of the present House of Burganza. Such is the famous revolution of Sweden when Christian II of Denmark, who was also king of Sweden, was driven out by Gustavus Vassa. And such also is that memorable era in Denmark of 1660, when the states of that kingdom made a voluntary surrender of all their rights and liberties to the crown, and changed that free state into the most absolute monarchy now in Europe. The Acta Regis, upon that occasion, are worth your perusing. These remarkable periods of modern history deserve your particular attention, and most of them have been treated singly by good historians, which are worth your reading. The revolutions of Sweden and of Portugal are most admirably well written by Labé de Verteau. They are short, and will not take twelve hours reading. There is another book which very well deserves your looking into, but not worth your buying at present, because it is not portable. If you can borrow or hire it, you should, and that is L'histoire de Trois de Païs in two volumes, Folio, which make part of the Core Diplomatique. You will find there a short and clear history, and the substance of every treaty made in Europe during the last century, from the Treaty of Verva. Three parts and four of this book are not worth your reading, as they relate to treaties of very little importance. But if you select the most considerable ones, read them with attention, and take some notes, it will be of great use to you. Attend chiefly to those in which the great powers of Europe are the parties, such as the Treaty of the Pyrenees, between France and Spain, the Treaties of Nimmigan and Risswick, but above all the Treaty of Munster should be most circumstantially and minutely known to you, as almost every treaty made since has some reference to it. For this, Père Bougin is the best book you can read, as it takes in the Thirty Years' War, which preceded that treaty. The treaty itself, which is made a perpetual law of the Empire, comes in the course of your lectures upon the Juice Publicum Imperie. In order to furnish you with materials for a letter, and at the same time to inform both you and myself of what it is right that we should know, pray answer me the following questions. How many companies are there in the Saxon regiments of the foot? How many men in each company? How many troops in the regiments of horse and dragoons? And how many men in each? What number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in a company of foot, or in a troop of horse or dragoons? Non-commissioned officers are all those below ensigns and cornets. What is the daily pay of a Saxon foot soldier, dragoon, and trooper? What are the several ranks of Etat Major General? The Etat Major General is everything above Colonel. The Austrians have no Brigadiers, and the French have no Major Generals, and they are Etat Major. What of the Saxons? A Jew. End of Section 16, read by Professor Heather Mbye. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 17 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 34 London, March 27, Old Style, 1748. Mr. Boy. This little packet will be delivered to you by one Mr. Duval, who is going to the fair at Leipzig. He is a jeweler, originally of Geneva, but who has been settled here these eight or ten years, and a very sensible fellow. Pray do be very civil to him. As I advised you some time ago to inform yourself of the civil and military establishments of as many of the kingdoms and states of Europe as you should either be in yourself or be able to get authentic accounts of, I send you here a little book, in which, upon the article of Hanover, I have pointed out the short method of putting down these informations, by way of helping your memory. The book being lettered, you can immediately turn to whatever article you want, and by adding interleaves to each letter, may extend your minutes to what particulars you please. You may get such books made anywhere, and appropriate each, if you please, to a particular object. I have myself found great utility in this method. If I had known what to have sent you by this opportunity, I would have done it. The French say, que les petits prisons, entretiennant l'amitié, et que les grands logements non. But I could not recollect that you wanted anything, or at least anything that you cannot get as well at Leipzig as here. Do but continue to deserve, and I assure you that you shall never want anything I can give. Do not apprehend that my being out of employment may be any prejudice to you. Many things will happen before you can be fit for business, and when you are fit, whatever my situation may be, it will always be in my power to help you in your first steps. Afterward, you must help yourself by your own abilities. Make yourself necessary, and instead of soliciting, you will be solicited. The thorough knowledge of foreign affairs, the interests, the views, and the manners of the several courts in Europe, are not the common growth of this country. It is in your power to acquire them. You have all the means. Adieu. Yours. Letter thirty-five. London, April first, old style, seventeen forty-eight. Dear boy, I have not received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Hart, these three posts, which I impute wholly to accidents between this place and Leipzig. And they are distant enough to admit of many. I always take it for granted that you are well, when I do not hear to the contrary. Besides, as I have often told you, I am much more anxious about your doing well than about your being well. And when you do not write, I will suppose that you are doing something more useful. Your health will continue while your temperance continues, and at your age nature takes sufficient care of the body, provided she is left to herself, and that intemperance on one hand, or medicine on the other, do not break in upon her. But it is by no means so with the mind, which at your age particularly requires great and constant care and some physics. Every quarter of an hour, well or ill-employed, will do it essential and lasting good or harm. It requires also a great deal of exercise, to bring it to a state of health and vigor. Observe the difference there is between minds cultivated and minds uncultivated, and you will, I am sure, think that you cannot take too much pains, nor employ too much of your time in the culture of your own. Adraemon is probably born with as good organs as Milton, Lock, or Newton, but by culture they are as much more above him as he is above his horse. Sometimes indeed extraordinary geniuses have broken out by the force of nature, without the assistance of education, but those instances are too rare for anybody to trust to, and even they would make a much greater figure if they had had the advantage of education into the bargain. If Shakespeare's genius had been cultivated, those beauties which we so justly admire in him would have been undisgraced by those extravagances and that nonsense with which they are frequently accompanied. People are in general what they are made by education and company from fifteen to five and twenty. Consider well, therefore, the importance of your next eight or nine years. Your whole depends upon them. I will tell you sincerely my hopes and my fears concerning you. I think you will be a good scholar, and that you will acquire a considerable stock of knowledge of various kinds, but I fear that you neglect what are called little, though in truth they are very material things. I mean a gentleness of manners, an engaging address, and an insinuating behavior. They are real and solid advantages, and none but those who do not know the world treat them as trifles. I am told that you speak very quick and not distinctly. This is a most ungraceful and disagreeable trick, which you know I have told you of a thousand times. Pray attend carefully to the correction of it. An agreeable and distinct manner of speaking adds greatly to the matter, and I have known many a very good speech unregarded, upon account of the disagreeable manner in which it has been delivered, and many an indifferent one applauded, from the contrary reason. Adieu. Letter 36 London, April 15, Old Style, 1748 Dear Boy, though I have no letters from you to acknowledge since my last to you, I will not let three posts go from hence without a letter from me. My affection always prompts me to write to you, and I am encouraged to do it by the hopes that my letters are not quite useless. You will probably receive this in the midst of the diversions of Leipzig fair, at which, Mr. Hart tells me, that you are to shine in fine clothes among fine folks. I am very glad of it, as it is time that you should begin to be formed to the manners of the world in higher life. Courts are the best schools for that sort of learning. You are beginning now with the outside of a court, and there is not a more gaudy one than that of Saxony. Attend to it, and make your observations upon the turn and manners of it, that you may hereafter compare it with other courts which you will see. And though you are not yet able to be informed, or to judge of the political conduct and maxims of that court, yet you may remark the forms, the ceremonies, and the exterior state of it. At least see everything that you can see, and know everything that you can know of it by asking questions. See likewise everything at the fair, from operas and plays, down to the several yards where he shows. Everything is worth seeing once, and the more one sees, the less one either wonders or admires. Make my compliments to Mr. Hart, and tell him that I have just now received his letter, for which I thank him. I am called away, and my letter is therefore very much shortened. Adieu. I am impatient to receive your answers to the many questions that I have asked you. End of Section 17. Read by Professor Heather Mby. For more free audio books or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 18 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 37. London, April 26, Old Style, 1748. Dear boy, I am extremely pleased with your continuation of the history of the Reformation, which is one of those important eras that deserves your utmost attention, and of which you cannot be too minutely informed. You have doubtless considered the causes of that great event, and observed that disappointment and resentment had a much greater share in it than a religious deal or an abhorrence of the errors and abuses of popery. Luther, an Augustine monk, enraged that his order, and consequently himself, had not the exclusive privilege of selling indulgences, but that the Dominicans were led into a share of that profitable but infamous trade, turns reformer, and exclaims against the abuses, the corruption, and the idolatry of the Church of Rome, which were certainly gross enough for him to have seen long before, but which he had at least acquiesced in till what he called the rites, that is, the prophet, of his order came to be touched. It is true the Church of Rome furnished him ample matter for complaint and reformation, and he laid hold of it ably. This seems to me the true cause of that great and necessary work, but whatever the cause was, the effect was good, and the reformation spread itself by its own truth and fitness, and was conscientiously received by great numbers in Germany and other countries, and was soon afterward mixed up with the politics of princes, and as it always happens in religious disputes, became the specious covering of injustice and ambition. Under the pretense of crushing heresy, as it was called, the House of Austria meant to extend and establish its power in the Empire, as, on the other hand, many Protestant princes, under the pretense of extirpating idolatry, or at least of securing toleration, meant only to enlarge their own dominions or privileges. These views, respectively, among the chiefs on both sides, much more than true religious motives, continued what were called the religious wars in Germany, almost uninterruptedly, till the affairs of the two religions were finally settled by the Treaty of Munster. For most historical events traced up to their true causes, I fear we should not find them much more noble or disinterested than Luther's disappointed avarice, and therefore I look with some contempt upon those refining and sagacious historians, who ascribe all, even the most common events, to some deep political cause, whereas mankind is made up of inconsistencies, and no man acts invariably up to his predominant character. The wisest man sometimes acts weakly, and the weakest sometimes wisely. Our jarring passions, our variable humours, nay, our greater or lesser degree of health and spirits, produce such contradictions in our conduct, that I believe those are the oftenest mistaken who ascribe our actions to the most seemingly obvious motives, and I am convinced that a light supper, a good night's sleep, and a fine morning have sometimes made a hero of the same man, who by an indigestion, a restless night, and rainy morning, would have proved a coward. Our best conjectures, therefore, as to the true springs of actions, are but very uncertain, and the actions themselves are all that we must pretend to know from history. That Caesar was murdered by twenty-three conspirators I make no doubt, but I very much doubt that their love of liberty and of their country was their soul, or even principal motive, and I dare say that, if the truth were known, we should find that many other motives at least concurred, even in the great Brutus himself, such as pride, envy, personal peak, and disappointment. Nay, I cannot help carrying my Pyrrhonism still further, and extending it often to historical facts themselves, at least to most of the circumstances with which they are related, and every day's experience confirms me in this historical incredulity. Do we ever hear the most recent fact related exactly in the same way, by the several people who were at the same time eyewitnesses of it? No. One mistakes, another misinterprets, and others warp it a little to their own turn of mind or private views. A man who has been concerned in a transaction will not write it fairly, and a man who has not cannot. But notwithstanding all this uncertainty, history is not the less necessary to be known, as the best historians are taken for granted, and are the frequent subjects both of conversation and writing. Though I am convinced that Caesar's ghost never appeared to Brutus, yet I should be much ashamed to be ignorant of that fact, as related by the historians of those times. Thus the pagan theology is universally received as matter for writing and conversation, though believed now by nobody, and we talk of Jupiter, Mars, Apollo, etc. as gods, though we know that if they ever existed at all, it was only as mere mortal men. This historical Pyrrhonism, then, proves nothing against the study and knowledge of history, which of all other studies is the most necessary for a man who is to live in the world. It only points out to us not to be too decisive and peremptory, and to be cautious how we draw inferences for our own practice from remote facts, partially or ignorantly related, of which we can, at best, but imperfectly guess, and certainly not know the real motives. The testimonies of ancient history must necessarily be weaker than those of modern, as all testimony grows weaker and weaker, as it is more and more remote from us. I would, therefore, advise you to study ancient history, in general, as other people do, that is, not to be ignorant of any or those facts which are universally received, upon the faith of the best historians, and whether true or false, you have them as other people have them. But modern history, I mean particularly that of the last three centuries, is what I would have you apply to with the greatest attention and exactness. There the probability of coming at the truth is much greater, as the testimonies are much more recent. Besides anecdotes, memoirs, and original letters often come to the aid of modern history. The best memoirs that I know of are those of Cardinal de Rets, which I have once before recommended to you, and which I advise you to read more than once with attention. There are many political maxims in these memoirs, most of which are printed in italics. Pray attend to and remember them. I never read them, but my own experience confirms the truth of them. Many of them seem trifling to people who are not used to business, but those who are feel the truth of them. It is time to put an end to this long, rambling letter, in which, if any one thing can be of use to you, it will more than pay the trouble I have taken to write it. Adieu. End of Section 18. Read by Professor Heather M. Baye. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 19 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 38. London, May 10, Old Style, 1748. Dear boy, I reckon that this letter will find you just returned from Dresden, where you have made your first court caravan. What inclination for courts this taste of them may have given you I cannot tell. But this I think myself sure of, from your good sense that in leaving Dresden you have left dissipation, too, and have resumed at Leipzig that application which, if you like courts, can alone enable you to make a good figure at them. A mere courtier, without parts or knowledge, is the most frivolous and contemptible of all beings, as, on the other hand, a man of parts and knowledge, who acquires the easy and noble manners of a court, is the most perfect. It is a trite, commonplace observation that courts are the seats of falsehood and assimilation. That, like many I might say most, commonplace observations is false. Falsehood and assimilation are certainly to be found at courts, but where are they not to be found? Cottages have them, as well as courts, only with worse manners. A couple of neighboring farmers in a village will contrive and practice as many tricks to overreach each other at the next market, or to supplant each other in the favor of the squire, as any two courtiers can do to supplant each other in the favor of their prince. Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of rural innocence and truth, and of the profidity of courts, this is most undoubtedly true, that shepherds and ministers are both men, their nature and passions the same, the modes of them only different. Having mentioned commonplace observations, I will particularly caution you against either using, believing, or approving them. They are the common topics of witlings and coxcoms. Those who have really wit have the utmost contempt for them, and scorn even to laugh at the pert things that those would-be wits say upon such subjects. Religion is one of their favorite topics. It is all priestcraft, and an invention contrived and carried on by priests of all religions, for their own power and profit. From this absurd and false principle flow the commonplace insipid jokes and insults upon the clergy. With these people, every priest of every religion is either a public or a concealed unbeliever, drunkard and whormaster, whereas I conceive that priests are extremely like other men, and neither the better nor the worse for wearing a gown or a surplace. But if they are different from other people, probably it is rather on the side of religion and morality, or at least decency, from their education and manner of life. Another common topic for false wit, and rather cool railery, is matrimony. Every man and his wife hate each other cordially, whatever they may pretend, in public to the contrary. The husband certainly wishes his wife at the devil, and the wife certainly cuckolds her husband, whereas I presume that men and their wives neither love nor hate each other the more, upon account of the form of matrimony which has been said over them. The cohabitation, indeed, which is the consequence of matrimony, makes them either love or hate more, accordingly as they respectively deserve it. But that would be exactly the same between any man and woman who live together without being married. These and many other commonplace reflections upon nations or professions in general, which are at least as often false as true, are the poor refuge of people who have neither wit nor invention of their own, but endeavour to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put these pert jack-and-apes out of continents, by looking extremely grave, when they expect that I should laugh at their pleasantries, and by saying, well, and so, as if they had not done, and that the sting were still to come. This disconcerts them, as they have no resources in themselves, and have but one set of jokes to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to these shifts, and have the utmost contempt for them. They find proper subjects enough for either useful or lively conversations. They can be witty without satire or commonplace, and serious without being dull. The frequentation of courts checks this petulancy of manners. The good-breeding and circumspection which are necessary, and only to be learned there, correct these pertnesses. I do not doubt but that you are improved in your manners by the short visit which you have made at Dresden, and the other courts, which I intend that you shall be better acquainted with, will gradually smooth you up to the highest polish. In courts a versatility of genius and softness of manners are absolutely necessary, which some people mistake for abject flattery, and having no opinion of one's own, whereas it is the only decent and genteel manner of maintaining your own opinion, and possibly of bringing other people to it. The manner of doing things is often more important than the things themselves, and the very same thing may become either pleasing or offensive by the matter of saying or doing it. Materium superabot opus is often set of works of sculpture, where though the materials were valuable as silver, gold, etc., the workmanship was still more so. This holds true applied to manners, which adorn whatever knowledge or parts people may have, and even make a greater impression upon nine and ten of mankind than the intrinsic value of the materials. On the other hand, remember that what Horace says of good writing is justly applicable to those who would make a fine figure in courts, and distinguish themselves in the shining parts of life. Saperre est Principum and Fonts. A man who, without a good fund of knowledge and parts, adopts a court life, makes the most ridiculous figure imaginable. He is a machine, little superior to the court clock, and, as this points out the hours, he points out the frivolous employment of them. He is, at most, a comment upon the clock, and according to the hours that it strikes, tells you it is now levy, now dinner, now suppertime, etc. The end which I propose by your education, and which, if you please, I shall certainly attain, is to unite in you all the knowledge of a scholar with the manners of a courtier, and to join what is seldom joined by any of my countrymen, books, and the world. They are commonly twenty years old before they have spoken to anybody above their schoolmaster, and the fellows of their college. If they happen to have learning, it is only Greek and Latin, but not one word of modern history or modern languages. Thus prepared they go abroad, as they call it, but in truth they stay at home all that while, for being very awkward, confoundedly ashamed, and not speaking the languages, they go into no foreign company, at least none good, but dine and sup with one another only at the tavern. Such examples I am sure you will not imitate, but even carefully avoid. You will always take care to keep the best company in the place where you are, which is the only use of traveling, and, by the way, the pleasures of a gentleman are only to be found in the best company. For that not which low company, most falsely and impudently call pleasure, is only the sensuality of a swine. I ask hard and uninterrupted study from you but one year more. After that you shall have every day more and more time for your amusements. A few hours each day will then be sufficient for application, and the others cannot be better employed than in the pleasures of good company. Adjou. Letter thirty-nine, London, May thirty-first, old style, seventeen forty-eight. Dear boy, I received yesterday your letter of the sixteenth new style, and have in consequence of it, written this day to Sir Charles Williams, to thank him for all the civilities he has shown you. Your first setting out at court has, I find, been very favourable, and his Polish majesty has distinguished you. I hope you receive that mark of distinction with respect and with steadiness, which is the proper behavior of a man of fashion. People of a low, obscure education cannot stand the rays of greatness. They are frightened out of their wits when kings and great men speak to them. They are awkward, ashamed, and do not know what nor how to answer, whereas les zonnets gens are not dazzled by superior rank. They know and pay all the respect that is due to it, but they do it without being disconcerted, and can converse just as easily with a king as with any one of his subjects. That is the great advantage of being introduced young into good company, and being used early to converse with one's superiors. How many men have I seen here, who after having the full benefit of an English education, first at school, and then at the university, when they have been presented to the king, did not know whether they stood upon their heads or their heels? If the king spoke to them they were annihilated, they trembled, endeavored to put their hands in their pockets and miss them, let their hats fall, and were ashamed to take them up. And in short, put themselves in every attitude but the right, that is, the easy and natural one. The characteristic of a well-bred man is to converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with respect and ease. He talks to kings without concern. He trifles with women of the first condition with familiarity, gaiety, but respect, and converses with his equals, whether he is acquainted with them or not, upon general common topics, that are not, however, quite frivolous, without the least concern of mine or awkwardness of body, neither of which can appear to advantage but when they are perfectly easy. The tea-things, which Sir Charles Williams has given you, I would have you make a present of to your mamma, and send them to her by Duvall when he returns. You owe her not only duty, but likewise great obligations for her care and tenderness, and consequently cannot take too many opportunities of showing your gratitude. I am impatient to receive your account of Dresden, and likewise your answers to the many questions that I ask you. Adieu for this time, and God bless. End of Section 19. Read by Professor Heatheran Baye. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 20 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 40. London, May 27th, Old Style, 1748. Dear boy, this and the next two years make so important a period of your life that I cannot help repeating to you my exhortations, my commands, and what I hope will be still more prevailing with you than either my earnest entreaties to employ them well. Every moment that you now lose is so much character and advantage lost, as on the other hand every moment that you now employ usefully is so much time wisely laid out at most prodigious interest. These two years must lay the foundations of all the knowledge that you will ever have. You may build upon them afterwards as much as you please, but it will be too late to lay to any new ones. Let me beg of you, therefore, to grudge no labor nor pains to acquire, in time, that stock of knowledge without which you can never rise, but must make a very insignificant figure in the world. Consider your own situation. You have not the advantage of rank or fortune to bear you up. I shall very probably be out of the world before you can properly be said to be in it. What then will you have to rely on but your own merit? That alone must raise you, and that alone will raise you, if you have but enough of it. I have often heard and read of oppressed and unrewarded merit, but I have oftener, I might say always, seen great merit make its way and meet with its reward, to a certain degree at least, in spite of all difficulties. By merit I mean the moral virtues, knowledge, and manners. As to the moral virtues I say nothing to you. They speak best for themselves. Nor can I suspect that they want any recommendation with you. I will therefore only assure you that without them you will be most unhappy. As to knowledge, I have often told you, and I am persuaded you are thoroughly convinced, how absolutely necessary it is to you, whatever your destination may be. But as knowledge has a most extensive meaning, and as the life of man is not long enough to acquire, nor his mind capable of entertaining and digesting, all parts of knowledge, I will point out those to which you should particularly apply, and which by application you may make yourself perfect master of. Classical knowledge, that is, Greek and Latin, is absolutely necessary for everybody, because everybody has agreed to think and to call it so. And the word illiterate in its common acceptation means a man who is ignorant of those two languages. You are by this time, I hope, pretty near master of both, so that a small part of the day dedicated to them, for two years more, will make you perfect in that study. Rhetoric, logic, a little geometry, and a general notion of astronomy must, in their turns, have their hours too. Not that I desire you should be deep in any one of these, but in it is fit you should know something of them all. The knowledge more particularly useful and necessary for you, considering your destination, consists of modern languages, modern history, chronology and geography, the laws of nations, and the Juice Pubicum Imperii. You must absolutely speak all the modern languages, as purely and correctly as the natives of the respective countries, for whoever does not speak a language perfectly and easily will never appear to advantage in conversation, nor treat with others in it upon equal terms. As for French, you have it very well already, and must necessarily, from the universal usage of that language, know it better and better every day, so that I am in no pain about that. German, I suppose, you know pretty well by this time and will be quite master of it before you leave Leipzig. At least, I am sure you may. Italian and Spanish will come in their turns, and indeed they are both so easy to one who knows Latin and French that neither of them will cost you much time or trouble. Modern history, by which I mean particularly the history of the last three centuries, should be the object of your greatest and constant attention, especially those parts of it which relate more immediately to the great powers of Europe. This study you will carefully connect with chronology and geography, that is, you will remark and retain the dates of every important event, and always read with a map by you, in which you will constantly look for every place mentioned. This is the only way of retaining geography, for though it is soon learned by the lump, yet when only so learned, it is still sooner forgot. Manners, though the last, and it may be the least ingredient of real merit, are, however, very far from being useless in its composition. They adorn and give an additional force and luster to both virtue and knowledge. They prepare and smooth away for the progress of both, and are, I fear, with the bulk of mankind, more engaging than either. Remember then the infinite advantage of manners. Cultivate and improve your own to the yet most. Good sense will suggest the great rules to you. Good company will do the rest. Thus you see how much you have to do, and how little time to do it in. For when you are thrown out into the world, as in a couple of years you must be, the unavoidable dissipation of company, and the necessary avocations of some kind of business or other, will leave you no time to undertake new branches of knowledge. You may indeed, by a prudent allotment of your time, reserve some to complete and finish the building, but you will never find enough to lay new foundations. I have such an opinion of your understanding that I am convinced you are sensible of these truths, and that, however hard and laborious your present uninterrupted application may seem to you, you will rather increase than lessen it. For God's sake, my dear boy, do not squander away one moment of your time, for every moment may now be most usefully employed. Your future fortune, character, and figure in the world entirely depend upon your use or abuse of the next two years. If you do but employ them well, what may you not reasonably expect to be in time, and if you do not, what may I not reasonably fear you will be? You are the only one I ever knew of this country whose education was, from the beginning, calculated for the Department of Foreign Affairs, in consequence of which, if you will invariably pursue and diligently qualify yourself for that object, you may make yourself absolutely necessary to the government, and after having received orders as a minister abroad, send orders in your turn as Secretary of State at home. Most of our ministers abroad have taken up that department occasionally, without having ever thought of foreign affairs before, many of them without speaking any one foreign language, and all of them without manners which are absolutely necessary toward being well received and making a figure at foreign courts. They do the business accordingly, that is, very ill. They never get into the secrets of these courts for want of insinuation and address. They do not guess at their views for want of knowing their interests, and at last, finding themselves very unfit for, soon grow weary of their commissions, and are impatient to return home, where they are but too justly laid aside and neglected. Every moment's conversation may, if you please, be of use to you. In this view, every public event, which is the common topic of conversation, gives you an opportunity of getting some information. For example, the preliminaries of peace, lately concluded at Ex-La-Chapelle, will be the common subject of most conversations, in which you will take care to ask the proper question, as, what is the meaning of the Asiento contract for Negroes, between England and Spain? What the annual ship, when stipulated upon what account suspended, et cetera? You will likewise inform yourself about Guastalla, now given to Don Felipe, together with Parma and Placentia, who they belong to before, what claim or pretensions Don Felipe had to them, what they are worth, in short, everything concerning them. The sessions made by the Queen of Hungary to the King of Sardinia are, by these preliminaries, confirmed and secured to him. You will inquire, therefore, what they are, and what they are worth. This is the kind of knowledge which you should be most thoroughly master of, and in which conversation will help you almost as much as books, but both are best. There are histories of every considerable treaty, from that of Westphalia to that of Utrecht, inclusively, all which I would advise you to read. Poor Beaujant of the Treaty of Westphalia is an excellent one. Those of Nimmigan, Risswick, and Utrecht are not so well written, but are, however, very useful. L'histoire des traits de païs in two volumes Folio, which I recommended to you some time ago, is a book that you should often consult, when you hear mention made of any treaty concluded in the seventeenth century. Upon the whole, if you have a mind to be considerable and to shine hereafter, you must labor now. No quickness of parts, no vivacity will do long or go far without a solid fund of knowledge, and that fund of knowledge will amply repay all the pains that you can take in acquiring it. Reflect seriously within yourself upon all this, and ask yourself whether I can have any view but your interest, in all that I recommend to you. It is the result of my experience, and flows from that tenderness and affection with which, while you deserve them, I shall be yours. Make my compliments to Mr. Hart, and tell him that I have received his letter of the twenty-fourth, new style. End of Section 20, read by Professor Heather Mby. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 21 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Chapter 41 London, May 31st, Old Style, 1748 Dear Boy I have received with great satisfaction your letter of the twenty-eighth, new style from Dresden. It finishes your short but clear account of the Reformation, which is one of those interesting periods of modern history, that cannot be too much studied nor too minutely known by you. There are many great events in history, which, when once they are over, leave things in the situation in which they found them. As for instance the late war, which, accepting the establishment in Italy for Don Philippe, leaves things pretty much in status quo, a mutual restitution of all acquisitions being stipulated by the preliminaries of the peace. Such events undoubtedly deserve your notice, but yet not so minutely as those which are not only important in themselves, but equally, or it may be more important by their consequences too. Of this latter sort were the progress of the Christian religion in Europe, the invasion of the Goths, the division of the Roman Empire into western and eastern, the establishment and rapid progress of Mohammedanism, and lastly the Reformation, all which events produced the greatest changes in the affairs of Europe, and to one or other of which the present situation of all the parts of it is to be traced up. Next to those are those events which more immediately affect particular states and kingdoms, and which are reckoned entirely local, though their influence may, and indeed very often does, indirectly extend itself further, such as civil wars and revolutions from which a total change in the form of government frequently flows. The civil wars in England, in the reign of King Charles I, produced an entire change of the government here, from a limited monarchy to a commonwealth, at first, and afterward to absolute power, usurped by Cromwell under the pretense of a protectorate, and the title of protector. The revolution in 1688, instead of changing, preserved one form of government, which King James II intended to subvert, and establish absolute power in the crown. These are the two great epochs in our English history, which I recommend to your particular attention. The League formed by the House of Guise, and fomented by the Artifices of Spain, is a most material part of the history of France. The foundation of it was laid in the reign of Henry II, but the superstructure was carried on through the success of reigns of Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III, till at last it was crushed, partly, by the arms, but more by the apostasy of Henry IV. In Germany great events have been frequent, by which the imperial dignity has always either gotten or lost, and so it they have affected the Constitution of the Empire. The House of Austria kept that dignity to itself for near two hundred years, during which time it was always attempting to extend its power by encroaching upon the rights and privileges of the other states of the Empire, till at the end of the Bellum Trissonale, the Treaty of Munster, of which France is guaranteed, fixed the respective claims. Italy has been constantly torn to pieces, from the time of the Goths, by the Popes and the Antipopes, several supported by other great powers of Europe, more as their interest than as their religion led them, by the pretensions also of France and the House of Austria, upon Naples, Sicily, and the Milanese, not to mention the various lesser causes of squabbles there, for the little states, such as Ferrara, Parma, Montserrat, etc. The Popes, till lately, have always taken a considerable part, and had great influence in the affairs of Europe. Their excommunications, bulls, and indulgences stood instead of armies in the time of ignorance and bigotry. But now that mankind is better informed, the spiritual authority of the Pope is not only less regarded, but even despised by the Catholic princes themselves, and his holiness is actually little more than a bishop of Rome, with large temporalities, which he is not likely to keep longer than till the other great powers in Italy shall find their conveniency in taking them from him. Among the modern Popes, Leo X, Alexander VI, and sexist Quintus, deserve your particular notice, first, among other things, for his own learning and taste, and for his encouragement of the reviving arts and sciences in Italy. Under his protection the Greek and Latin classics were most excellently translated into Italian. Painting flourished and arrived at its perfection, and sculpture came so near the ancients that the works of his time, both in marble and bronze, are now called Antico-Moderno. Alexander VI, together with his natural son Cesar Borgia, was famous for his wickedness, in which he and his son, too, surpassed all imagination. Their lives are well worth your reading. They were poisoned themselves by the poisoned wine which they had prepared for others. The father died of it, but Cesar recovered. Francis V. was the son of a swine-herd, and raised himself to the pope-dome by his abilities. He was a great knave, but an able and singular one. Here is history enough for today. You shall have some more soon. Adieu! Letter 42, London, June 21st, Old Style, 1748 Dear boy, your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head and gives me real concern that it will be the subject of this, which I believe, of many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself, that was informed of it, as I hope, in time to prevent it, and shall ever think myself, as here after you will, I am sure thank yourself, infinitely obliged to search Charles Williams for informing me of it. Good God, if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in company, or in a public assembly? Who would have liked you in the one, or attended you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay upon the gracefulness of it. Nay, Cicero goes further, and even maintains that a good figure is necessary for an orator, and particularly that he must not be vastus, that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it that he knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure in a graceful manner. Men as well as women are much oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through the senses, please their eyes and their ears, and the work is half done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided forever by his first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily into a persuasion that he has merit, which possibly he has not, as on the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as it first may seem. For if a man has parts, he must know of what infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of speaking, and a gentile and pleasing address. He will cultivate and improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one. You have no natural defect in the organ of speech. Your address may be engaging, and your manner of speaking is ungraceful, if you will, so that if you are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to all actors upon the stage? Is it not that those who have the best sense always speak the best, though they may happen not to have the best voices? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper emphasis be their voices ever so bad. Had Roshis spoken quick, thick, and ungracefully, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favor. Words were given us to communicate our ideas by, and there must be something inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manner as that either people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. I tell you, truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking most gracefully. For I have here that it is in your power. You will desire, Mr. Hart, that you may read aloud to him every day, and that he will interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast. Do not observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care to open your teeth when you speak, to articulate every word distinctly, and to beg of Mr. Hart, Mr. Elliot, or whomesoever you speak to, to remind and stop you if you ever fall into the rapid and unintelligible mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and time your utterance to your own ear, and read it first much slower than you need to do, in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster than you ought. In short, if you think right, you will make it your business, your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what I have said in this and in my last is more than sufficient, if you have sense, and ten times more would not be sufficient, if you have not, so here I rest it. Next to graceful speaking, a genteel carriage and a graceful manner of presenting yourself are extremely necessary, for they are extremely engaging, and carelessness in these points is much more unpardonable in a young fellow than affection. It shows an offensive indifference about pleasing. I am told by one here, who has seen you lately, that you are awkward in your motions and negligent of your person. I am sorry for both, and so will you be when it will be too late, if you continue so some time longer. Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating, and a total negligence of dress and air is an impertinent insult upon custom and fashion. You remember, Mr. Barrywell, I am sure, and you must consequently remember this, his extreme awkwardness, which I can assure you, has been a great clog to his parts and merit, that have with much difficulty, but barely counterbalanced it at last. Many to whom I have formally commended him have answered me, that they were sure he could not have parts, because he was so awkward. So much are people, as I observed to you before, taken by I. Women have great influence as to a man's fashionable character, and an awkward man will never have their votes, which, by the way, are very numerous, and much often are counted than weighed. You should therefore give some attention to your dress, and the gracefulness of your motions. I believe, indeed, that you have no perfect model for either at Leipzig, to form yourself upon. But however, do not get a habit of neglecting either, and attend properly to both, when you go to courts, where they are very necessary, and where you will have good masters and good models for both. Your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing will civilize and fashion your body and your limbs, and give you, if you will but take it, l'heure d'un honnête d'un. I will now conclude with suggesting one reflection to you, which is, that you should be sensible of your good fortune, in having one who interests himself enough in you, to inquire into your faults, in order to inform you of them. Nobody but myself would be so solicitous, either to know or correct them, so that you might consequently be ignorant of them yourself, for our own self-love draws a thick veil between us and our faults. But when you hear yours from me, you may be sure that you hear them, from one who, for your sake, only desires to correct them, from one whom you cannot suspect of any partiality but in your favour, and from one who heartily wishes that his care of you, as a father, may in a little time render every care unnecessary but that of a friend. Adjou. P.S. I condole with you for the untimely and violent death of the tuneful matzul. CHESTORFIELD'S LETTERS TO HIS SON I AM EXTREMELY WELL PLEASED WITH THE COURSE OF STUDIES WHICH MR. HEART INFORMS ME YOU ARE IN NOW, AND WITH THE DIGREE OF APPLOCATION WHICH HE ASSUIRS ME YOU HAVE TO THEM. IT IS YOUR INTEREST TO DO SO, AS THE ADVANTAGE WILL BE ALL YOUR OWN. MY AFFECTION FOR YOU MAKES ME BOTH WISH AND ENDEVER THAT YOU MAY TURN OUT WELL, AND ACCORDING AS YOU DO TURN OUT, I SHALL EITHER BE PROUD OR ASHAIMED OF YOU. BUT ASK TO ME YOUR INTEREST, IN THE COMMON ACCEPTATION OF THAT WORD, IT WOULD BE MIND THAT YOU SHOULD TURN OUT ILL, FOR YOU MAY DEPEND APON IT, THAT WHATEVER YOU HAVE FOR ME SHALL BE MOST EXACTLY PROPORTION TO YOUR DESERT. DESERVE A GREAT DEAL, AND YOU SHALL HAVE A GREAT DEAL. DESERVE A LITTLE, AND YOU SHALL HAVE BUT A LITTLE. AND BE GOOD FOR NOTHING AT ALL, AND I ASURE YOU, YOU SHALL HAVE NOTHING AT ALL. Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and great foundation of your future fortune and character. For I never mention to you the two much greater points of religion and morality, because I cannot possibly suspect you as to either of them. The solid knowledge that you are in a fair way of acquiring, you may, if you please, and I will add, that nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their power than you have. But remember that manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way through the world. Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value, but it will never be worn or shine if it is not polished. It is upon this article I confess that I suspect you the most, which makes me recur to it so often, for I fear that you are apt to show too little attention to everybody, and too much contempt to many. Be convinced that there are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may some time or other have it in their power to be of use to you, which they certainly will not if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt never is. Your pride remembers it forever. It implies a discovery of weaknesses, which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to his most intimate one, as many a friend will tell us our faults with reserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies, that discovery is too mortifying to our self-love, either to tell another or be told of oneself. You must, therefore, never expect to hear of your weaknesses or your follies from anybody but me. Those I will take pains to discover, and whenever I do, I shall tell you of them. Next to manners are exterior graces of person and address, which adorn manners as manners adorn knowledge. To say that they please, engage, and charm, as they most indisputably do, is saying that one should do everything possible to acquire them. The graceful manner of speaking is, particularly, that I should always hola in your ears, as Hotspur hola'd mortimer to Henry IV, and, like him, too, I have aimed to have a starling taught to say, speak distinctly and gracefully, and send him you to replace your loss of the unfortunate matzel, who, by the way, I am told, spoke his language very distinctly and gracefully. As by this time you must be able to write German tolerably well, I desire that you will not fail to write a German letter in the German character, once every fortnight, to Mr. Grevenkopp, which will make it more familiar to you, and enable me to judge how you improve in it. Do not forget to answer me the questions which I asked you a great while ago, in relation to the Constitution of Saxony, and also the meaning of the words Lansassi and Amtsassi. I hope you do not forget to inquire into the affairs of trade and commerce, nor to get the best accounts you can of the commodities and manufacturers, exports and imports of the several countries where you may be, and their gross value. I would likewise have you attend to the respective coins, gold, silver, copper, etc., and their value, compared with our coins, for which purpose I would advise you to put up, in a separate piece of paper, one piece of each kind, wherever you shall be, writing upon it the name and the value. Such a collection will be curious enough in itself, and that sort of knowledge will be very useful to you in your way of business, where the different value of money often comes in question. I am doing Cheltenham to-morrow, less for my health, which is pretty good, than for the dissipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stay about a fortnight. La bae mableese doit de l'Europe, which Mr. Hart is so kind as to send me, is worth your reading. Adieu. Letter forty-four. Cheltenham, July sixth, old style, seventeen forty-eight. Your boy. Your school-fellow, Lord Pultany, only child of the right Honourable William Pultany, Earl of Bath, who died before his father, set out last week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipzig soon after this letter. You will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do him any service that you can while you stay there. Let him know that I wrote to you to do so. As being older, he should know more than you. In that case, take pains to get up to him. But if he does not, take care not to let him feel his inferiority. He will find it out of himself without your endeavours. And that cannot be helped. But nothing is more insulting, more mortifying, and less forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a man feel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, etc. In the last two articles it is unjust, they not being in his power, and in the first it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding and good-nature do incline us rather to raise and help people up to ourselves, than to mortify and depress them. And in truth our own private interest concurs in it, as it is making ourselves so many friends instead of so many enemies. The constant practice of what the French call les attentions is a most necessary ingredient in the art of pleasing. They flatter the self-love of those to whom they are shown. They engage, they captivate, more than things of much greater importance. The duties of social life every man is obliged to discharge, but these attentions are voluntary acts. The free will offerings of good-breeding and good-nature they are received, remembered, and returned as such. Women particularly have a right to them, and any omission in that respect is downright ill-breeding. Do you employ your whole time in the most useful manner? I do not mean do you study all day long, nor do I require it. But I mean do you make the most of the respective allotment of your time? While you study is it with attention? When you divert yourself is it with spirit? Your diversions may, if you please, employ some part of your time very usefully. It depends entirely upon the nature of them. If they are futile and frivolous it is time worse than lost, for they will give you and habit of futility. All gaming, field sports, and such sort of amusements, where neither the understanding nor the senses have the least share, I look upon as frivolous, and as the resources of little minds, who either do not think or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of parts either flatter the senses or improve the mind. I hope at least that there is not one minute of the day in which you do nothing at all. Inaction at your age is unpardonable. Tell me what Greek and Latin books you can now read with ease. Can you open Demosthenes at a venture and understand him? Can you get through an oration of Cicero or a satire of Horus without difficulty? What German books do you read? Do you make yourself master of that language? And what French books do you read for your amusement? Pray, give me a particular and true account of all this, for I am not indifferent as to any one thing that relates to you. As, for example, I hope you take great care to keep your whole person, particularly your mouth, very clean. Common decency requires it, besides that great cleanliness is very conducive to health. But if you do not keep your mouth excessively clean by washing it carefully every morning and after every meal, it will not only be apt to smell, which is very disgusting and indecent, but your teeth will decay and ache, which is both a great loss and a great pain. A spursness of dress is also very proper in becoming at your age, as the negligence of it implies an indifference about pleasing, which does not become a young fellow. To do whatever you do at all to the utmost perfection ought to be your aim at this time of your life. If you can reach perfection so much the better, but at least by attempting it you will get much nearer than if you never attempted it at all. Adjou, speak gracefully and distinctly if you intend to converse everwith yours. P.S., as I was making up my letter I received yours of the sixth old style. I like your dissertation upon preliminary articles and truces. Your definitions of both are true. Those are matters which I would have you be master of. They belong to your future department. But remember too that they are matters upon which you will much often or have occasion to speak than to write. And that consequently it is full as necessary to speak more gracefully and distinctly upon them as to write clearly and elegantly. I find no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the moderns, for indistinct and unintelligible utterance. The oracles indeed meant to be obscure, but then it was by the ambiguity of the expression, and not by the inarticulation of the words. For if people had not thought, at least, they understood them, they would neither have frequented nor presented them as they did. There was likewise among the ancients, and still is among the moderns, a sort of people called ventriloquy, who speak from their bellies, on making the voice seem to come from some other part of the room than where they are. But these ventriloquy speak very distinctly and intelligibly. The only thing, then, that I can find like a precedent for your way of speaking, and I would willingly help you to one if I could, is the modern art de persiflure, practiced with great success by the Petit Matre at Paris. This noble art consists in picking out some grave, serious man who neither understands nor expects railery, and talking to him very quick, and inarticulate sounds, while the man who thinks that he did not hear well or attend sufficiently says, Monsieur or Platille a hundred times, which affords matter of much mirth to these ingenious gentlemen. Whether you would follow this precedent I submit to you. Have you carried no English or French comedies or tragedies with you to Leipzig? If you have, I insist upon you reciting some passages of them every day to Mr. Hart, in the most distinct and graceful manner, as if you were acting them upon a stage. The first part of my letter is more than an answer to your questions concerning Lord Pultney. End of Section 22, read by Professor Heather Mby, for more free audio books or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section 23 of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 45, London, July 20th, Old Style, 1748. Dear Boy. There are two sorts of understandings, one of which hinders the man from ever being considerable, and the other commonly makes him ridiculous. I mean the lazy mind and the trifling frivolous mind. Yours, I hope, is neither. The lazy mind will not take the trouble of going to the bottom of anything, but discouraged by the first difficulties, and everything worth knowing or having is attained with some, stops short, contents itself with easy and consequently superficial knowledge, and prefers a great degree of ignorance to a small degree of trouble. These people either think or represent most things as impossible, whereas few things are so to industry and activity. But difficulties seem to them impossibilities, or at least they pretend to think them so, by way of excuse for their laziness. An hour's attention to the same subject is too laborious for them. They take everything in the light in which it first presents itself, never consider it in all its different views, and in short, never think it through. The consequence of this is that when they come to speak upon these subjects, before people who have considered them with attention, they only discover their own ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to answers that put them in confusion. Do not then be discouraged by the first difficulties, but contra identiorito, and resolve to go to the bottom of all things which every gentleman ought to know well. Those arts or sciences which are peculiar to certain professions need not be deeply known by those who are not intended for those professions, as, for instance, fortification and navigation, of both of which a superficial and general knowledge, such as the common course of conversation, with a very little inquiry on your part, will give you, is sufficient. Though, by the way, a little more knowledge of fortification may be of some use to you, as the events of war, in sieges, make many of the terms of that science occur frequently in common conversation, and one would be sorry to say, like the Marquis de Masqueril in Molière's Precious Rédicu, when he hears of une demi-lune, ma foi, cet apienne une lune tutentière. But those things which every gentleman, independently of profession, should know, he ought to know well, and dive into the depth of them. Such are languages, history, and geography, ancient and modern, philosophy, rational logic, rhetoric, and for you particularly, the constitutions and the civil-military state of every country in Europe. This I confess is a pretty large circle of knowledge, attended with some difficulties, and requiring some trouble. Which, however, an active and industrious mind will overcome, and be amply repaid. The trifling and frivolous mind is always busy'd, but to little purpose. It takes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon trifles that time and attention, which only important things deserve. Nicknacks, butterflies, shells, insects, et cetera, are the subjects of their most serious researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters of the company they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play than the sense of it, and to the ceremonies of a court, more than to its politics. Such an employment of time is an absolute loss of it. You have now, at most, three years to employ, either well or ill. For as I have often told you, you will be all your life what you shall be three years hence. For God's sake, then, reflect. Will you throw this time away either in laziness or in trifles? Or will you not rather employ every moment of it in a manner that must so soon reward you with so much pleasure, figure, and character? I cannot. I will not doubt of your choice. Read only useful books, and never quit a subject till you are thoroughly master of it. But read and inquire on till then. When you are in company, bring the conversation to some useful subjects, but a portee of that company. Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular countries, the several orders of knighthood, as Teutonic, Maltese, et cetera, are surely better subjects of conversation than the weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories that carry no information along with them. The characters of kings and great men are only to be learned in conversation, for they are never fairly written during their lives. This therefore is an entertaining and instructive subject of conversation, and will likewise give you an opportunity of observing how very differently characters are given, from the different passions and views of those who give them. Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking questions, for if they lead to information, and if you accompany them with some excuse, you will never be reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All these things, in the common course of life, depend entirely upon the manner, and in that respect the vulgar saying is true, that one man can better steal a horse than another look over the hedge. There are few things that may not be said, in some manner or other, either in seeming confidence or a gentile irony, or introduced with wit, and one great part of the knowledge of the world consists in knowing when and where to make use of these different manners. The graces of the person, the countenance, and the way of speaking contribute much to this, that I am convinced the very same thing said by a gentile person in an engaging way, and gracefully and distinctly spoken, would please, which would shock, if muttered out by an awkward figure, with a sullen, serious countenance. The poets always represent Venus as attended by the three graces, to intimate that even beauty will not do without. I think they should have given Minerva three also, or without them I am sure learning is very unattractive. Invoke them, then, distinctly, to accompany all your words in motions. Adju. P.S. Since I wrote what goes before, I have received your letter of no date, with the enclosed state of the Prussian forces, of which I hope you have kept a copy. This you should lay in a portfew and add to it all the military establishments that you can get of other states and kingdoms. The Saxon establishment you may doubtless easily find. By the way, do not forget to send me answers to the questions which I sent you some time ago, concerning both the civil and the ecclesiastical affairs of Saxony. Do not mistake me, and think I only mean that you should speak elegantly with regard to style and the purity of language. But I mean that you should deliver and pronounce what you say gracefully and distinctly, for which purpose I will have you frequently read very loud to Mr. Hart. Parts of Orations, and speak passages of plays. For without a graceful and pleasing annunciation, all your elegancy of style in speaking is not worth one farthing. I am very glad that Mr. Littleton approves of my new house, and particularly of my canonical. James Bridges, Duke of Chendos, built a most magnificent and elegant house at Cannons, about eight miles from London. It was superbly furnished with fine pictures, statues, etc., which after his death were sold by auction. Lord Chesterfield purchased the hall-pillars, the floor, and staircase with double flights, which are now in Chesterfield House, London. Pillars. My bust of Cicero is a very fine one, and well preserved. It will have the best place in my library, unless at your return you bring me over as good a modern head of your own, which I should like still better. I can tell you that I shall examine it as attentively as ever an antiquary did an old one. Make my compliments to Mr. Hart, at whose recovery I rejoice. End of Section XXIII. Read by Professor Heather Mby. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Section XXIV of Chesterfield's Letters to His Son. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Chapter XXVI London, August 2nd, Old Style, 1748 Dear Boy, Duval the Jeweler is arrived, and was with me three or four days ago. You will imagine that I asked him a few questions concerning you, and I will give you the satisfaction of knowing that, upon the whole, I was very well pleased with the account he gave me. But though he seemed to be much in your interest, yet he fairly owned to me that your utterance was rapid, thick, and ungraceful. I can add nothing to what I have already set upon this subject. But I can and do repeat the absolute necessity of speaking distinctly and gracefully, or else of not speaking at all, and having recourse to signs. He tells me that you are pretty fat for one of your age. This you should attend to in a proper way, for if while very young you should grow fat it would be troublesome, unwholesome, and ungraceful. You should therefore, when you have time, take very strong exercise, and in your diet, avoid fattening things. All malt-lickers fatten, or at least bloat, and I hope you do not deal much in them. I look upon wine and water to be, in every respect, much wholesomer. Duval says there is a great deal of very good company at Madame Valentines, and at another ladies. I think one Madame Ponce's at Leipzig. Do you ever go to either of those houses at leisure times? It would not, in my mind, be amiss if you did, and would give you a habit of attentions. They are a tribute which all women expect, and which all men, who would be well received by them, must pay. And whatever the mind may be, manners at least are certainly improved by the company of women of fashion. I have formerly told you that you should inform yourself of the several orders, whether military or religious, of the respective countries where you may be. The Teutonic Order is the great order of Germany, of which I send you an enclosed short account. It may serve to suggest questions to you for more particular inquiries as to the present state of it, of which you ought to be minutely informed. The knights at present make vows, of which they observe none, except it be that of not marrying, and their only object now is to arrive by seniority at the commandearies in their respective provinces, which are many of them very lucrative. The order of Malta is, by a very few years prior to the Teutonic, and owes its foundation to the same causes. These knights were first called knights' hospitalers of St. John of Jerusalem, then the knights of Rhodes, and in the year fifteen-thirty knights of Malta, the emperor Charles V having granted them that island upon condition of their defending his island of Sicily against the Turks, which they effectually did. Abbe de Verto has written the history of Malta, but it is the least valuable of all his works, and, moreover, too long for you to read. But there is a short history of all the military orders whatsoever, which I would advise you to get, as there is also of all the religious orders, both of which are worth your having and consulting whenever you meet with any of them in your way, as you will very frequently in Catholic countries. For my own part I find that I remember things much better when I recur to my books for them, upon some particular occasion, than by reading them toot to sweet. As for example, if I were to read the history of all the military or religious orders, regularly one after another, the latter puts the former out of my head. But when I read the history of any one, upon account of its having been the object of conversation or dispute, I remember it much better. It is the same in geography, where looking for any particular place in the map, upon some particular account, fixes it in one's memory forever. I hope you have worn out your maps by frequent use of that sort. Adieu. A short account of the Teutonic Order. In the ages of ignorance, which is always the mother of superstition, it was thought not only just, but meritorious, to propagate religion by fire and sword, and to take away the lives and properties of unbelievers. This enthusiasm produced the several crusades, in the eleventh, twelfth, and following centuries, the object of which was, to recover the holy land out of the hands of the infidels, who by the way were the lawful possessors. Many honest enthusiasts engaged in those crusades, from a mistaken principle of religion, and from the pardons granted by the popes for all the sins of those pious adventurers. But many more naves adopted these holy wars in hopes of conquest and plunder. After Godfrey of Bullion, at the head of these knaves and fools, had taken Jerusalem in the year 1099, Christians of various nations remained in that city, among the rest one good honest German, that took particular care of his countrymen who came thither in pilgrimages. He built a house for their reception, and an hospital dedicated to the Virgin. This little establishment soon became a great one, by the enthusiasm of many considerable people who engaged in it, in order to drive the Saracens out of the holy land. This society then began to take its first form, and its members were called Marian Teutonic knights, Marian from their chapel sacred to the Virgin Mary, Teutonic from the German, or Teuton, who was the author of it, and knights from the wars which they were to carry on against the infidels. These knights behaved themselves so bravely at first, that Duke Frederick of Swabia, who was general of the German army in the holy land, sent, in the year 1191, to the Emperor Henry VI, and Pope Celestine III, to desire that this brave and charitable fraternity might be incorporated into a regular order of knighthood, which was accordingly done, and rules and a particular habit were given them. Forty knights, all of noble families, were at first created by the King of Jerusalem and other princes then in the army. The first grandmaster of this order was Henry Walpot, of a noble family upon the Rhine. This order soon began to operate in Europe, drove all the Pagans out of Prussia, and took possession of it. Soon after they got Livonia and Coreland, and invaded even Russia, where they introduced the Christian religion. In 1510 they elected Albert, Marquisa Brandenburg, for their grandmaster, who, turning Protestant, soon afterward took Prussia from the order, and kept it for himself, with the consent of Sigismen, King of Poland, of whom it was to hold. He then quitted his grand mastership and made himself hereditary Duke of that country, which is then called Dukele Prussia. This order now consists of twelve provinces, Viz, Alsatia, Austria, Koblenz, and Etch, which are the four under the Prussian jurisdiction, Franconia, Hessa, Biesin, Westphalia, Lorraine, Thuringia, Saxony, and Utrecht, which eight are of the German jurisdiction. The Dutch now possess all that the order had in Utrecht. Every one of the provinces have their particular commandearies, and the most ancient of these commandearies is called the Commandeur Provincial. The twelve commandeurs are all subordinate to the grandmaster of Germany as their chief, and have the right of electing the grandmaster. The Elector of Kolonia is at present Grand Matra. This order, founded by mistaken Christian zeal upon the anti-christian principles of violence and persecution, soon grew strong by the weakness and ignorance of the time, acquired unjustly great possessions of which they justly lost the greatest part by their ambition and cruelty, which made them feared and hated by all your neighbors. I have this moment received your letter of the fourth new style, and have only time to tell you that I can by no means agree to your cutting off your hair. I am very sure that your headaches cannot proceed from thence. And as for the pimples upon your head, they are only owing to the heat of the season, and consequently will not last long. But your own hair is, at your age, such an ornament, and a wig, however made, such a disguise, that I will upon no account whatsoever have you cut off your hair. Nature did not give it to you for nothing, still less to cause you the headache. Your Elliot's hair grew so ill and bushy that he was in the right to cut it off. But you have not the same reason.