and-fifty years for them, and shall not grudge it, if you reap the advantage. Adieu!

2) LORD CHESTERFIELD TO HIS SON PHILIP STAnhope. Bath, October the 12th. O. S. 1748.

Deer Boy,

I came here three days ago, upon account of a disorder in

my stomach, which affected my head, and gave me vertigos. I already find myself something better; and consequently do not doubt, that a course of these waters will set me quite right. But however, and where-ever I am, your welfare, your character, your knowledge and your morals, employ my thoughts more than any thing that can happen to me, or that I can fear or hope for myself. I am going off the stage, you are coming upon it; with me, what has been, has been and reflection now would come too late; with you, every thing is to come, even, in some manner, reflection itself: so that this is the very time, when my reflections, the result of experience, may be of use to you, by supplying the want of yours. As soon as you leave Leipsig, you will gradually be going into the great world, where the first impressions that you shall give of yourself will be of great importance to you; but those which you shall receive will be decisive, for they always stick. To keep good company, especially at your first setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. If you ask me, what I mean by good company, I will confess to you, that it is pretty difficult to define; but I will endeavour to make you understand it as well as I can.

Good company is not what respective sets of company are pleased either to call or think themselves; but it is that company which all the people of the place call, and acknowledge to be, good company, notwithstanding some objections which they may form to some of the individuals who compose it. It consists chiefly (but by no means without exception) of people of considerable birth, rank and character: for people of neither birth, nor rank are frequently, and very justly, admitted into it, if distinguished by any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. Nay, so motley a thing is good company, that many people, without birth,

rank or merit, intrude into it by their own forwardness, and others slide into it by the protection of some considerable person; and some even of indifferent characters and morals make part of it. But, in the main, the good part preponderates, and people of infamous and blasted characters are never admitted. In this fashionable good company, the best manners and the best language of the place are most unques tionably to be learnt; for they establish and give the tone to both, which are therefore called the language and manners of good company; there being no legal tribunal to ascertain either.

A company consisting wholly of people of the first quality, cannot, for that reason, be called good company, in the common acceptation of the phrase, unless they are, into the bargain, the fashionable and accredited company of the place; for people of the very first quality can be as silly, as ill-bred and as worthless, as people of the meanest degree. On the other hand, a company consisting entirely of people of very low condition, whatever their merit or parts may be, -can never be called good company; and consequently should not be much frequented, though by no means despised.

A company, 'wholly composed of men of learning, though greatly to be valued and respected, is not meant by the words good company; they cannot have the easy manners and tournure of the world, as they do not live in it. If you can bear your part well in such a company, it is extremely right, to be in it sometimes, and you will be but more esteemed in other companies for having a place in that. But then do not let it engross you; for if you do, you will be only considered as one of the literati by profession; which is not the way, either to shine, or rise in the world.

The company of professed wits and poets is extremely inviting to most young men, who, if they have wit themselves, are pleased with it, and if they have none, are sillily proud of being one of it: but it should be frequented with moderation and judgment, and you should by no means give yourself up to it. A Wit is a very unpopular denomination, as it carries terror along with it; and people in general are as much afraid of a live Wit, in company, as a woman is of a gun, which she thinks may go off of itself, and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance is, however, worth seeking, and their company worth frequenting; but not exclusively of

others, nor to such a degree as to be considered only as one of that particular set.

busi

But the company, which of all others you should most carefully avoid, is that low company, which, in every sense of the word, is low indeed; low in rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low in merit. You will, perhaps, be surprised, that I should think it necessary to warn you against such company; but yet I do not think it wholly unnecessary after the many instances which I have seen of men of sense and rank, discredited, vilified, and undone, by keeping such company. Vanity, that source of many of our follies, and of some of our crimes, has sunk many a man into company, in every light infinitely below himself, for the sake of being the first, man in it. There he dictates, is applauded, admired; and, for the sake of being the Coryphæus*) of that wretched chorus, disgraces and disqualifies himself soon for any better company. Depend upon it, you will sink or rise to the level of the company which you commonly keep: people will judge of you, and not unreasonably, by that. There is good sense in the Spanish saying: " Tell me whom you live with, and I will tell who you Make it therefore your you are. ness, wherever you are, to get into that company, which every. body of the place allows to be the best company, next to their own: which is the best definition, that I can give you of good company. But here, too, one caution is very necessary; for want of which many young men have been ruined, even in good company. Good company, (as I have observed) is composed of a great variety of fashionable people, whose characters and morals are very different, though their manners are pretty much the same. When a young man, new in the world, first gets into that company, he very rightly determines to conform to and imitate it. But then he too often, and fatally, mistakes the objects of his imitation. He has often heard that absurd term of genteel and fashionable vices. He there sees some people who shine, and who in general are admired and esteemed; and observes, that these people are whoremasters, drunkards or gamesters: upon which he adopts their vices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and thinking that they owe their fashion and their

*) Coryphaeus (xoqvatos), der an der Spitze, oben an steht; der Vorsänger, Fortänzer im Chor, bei den Alten.

lustre to those genteel vices. Whereas it is exactly the reverse; for these people have acquired their reputation by their parts, their learning, their good-breeding and other real accomplishments; and are only blemished and lowered, in the opinions of all reasonable people, and of their own, in time, by these genteel and fashionable vices. A whoremaster in a flux, or without a nose, is a very genteel person indeed and well worthy of imitation. A drunkard, vomiting up at night the wine of the day, and stupified by the head-ach all the next, doubtless, a fine model to copy from. And a ga

mester tearing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost more than he had in the world, is surely a most aimiable character. No: these are allays, and great ones too, which can never adorn any character, but will always debase the best. To prove this, suppose any man, without parts and some other good qualities, to be merely a whoremaster, a drunkard, or a gamester; how will he be looked upon, by all sorts of people? Why, as a most contemptible and vicious animal. Therefore it is plain, that in these mixed characters, the good part only makes people forgive, but not approve, the bad.

I will hope and believe, that you will have no vices; but if, unfortunately, you should have any, at least I beg of you to be content with your own, and to adopt no other body's. The adoption of vice has, I am convinced, ruined ten times more young men, than natural inclinations.

As I make no difficulty of confessing my past errors, where I think the confession may be of use to you, I will own, that, when I first went to the university, I drank and smoked, notwithstanding the aversion I had to wine and tobacco, only because I thought it genteel, and that it made me look like a man. When I went abroad, I first went to the Hague, where gaming was much in fashion, and where I observed then many people of shining rank and character gamed too. I was then young enough and silly enough to believe, that gaming was one of their accomplishments; and as I aimed at perfection, I adopted gaming as a necessary step to it. Thus I acquired by error, the habit of a vice, which far from adorning my character, has, I am conscious, been a great blemish in it.

Imitate then with discernment and judgment the real perfections of the good company, into which you may get; copy their politeness, their carriage, their address, and the

easy and well-bred turn of their conversation; but remember that, let them shine ever so bright, their vices, if they have any, are so many spots, which you would no more imitate, than you would make an artificial wart upon your face, because some very handsome man had the misfortune to have a natural one upon his: but on the contrary think, how much handsomer he would have been without it.

Having thus confessed some of my égaremens, I will now show you a little of my right side. I always endeavoured to get into the best company wherever I was, and commonly succeeded. There I pleased to some degree, by showing a desire to please. I took care never to be absent or distrait; but, on the contrary attended to every thing that was said, done, or even looked, in company. I never failed in the minutest attentions, and was never journalier*). These things, and not my égaremens, made me fashionable. Adieu! this letter is full long enough.

GEORGE

LYTTELTON.

EORGE LORD LYTTELTON Wurde 1709 zu Hagley in Worcestershire geboren, und zu Eton und in dem Christchurch Collegio zu Oxford erzogen, wo er sich durch Fleifs und musterhaftes Betragen vortheilhaft auszeichnete, und in dem Progress of love, und einem auf Blenheim, den Pallast des Herzogs von Marlborough, geschriebenen Gedicht, Proben von einem glücklichen Talent zur Poesie gab, das ihn bei fortgesetzter Kultur zu dem Range eines der ersten Dichter Englands erhoben haben würde. 1728 trat er eine Reise durch Frankreich und Italien an, die ihn einige Jahre auf das nützlichste beschäfftigte. Da er sich bei seiner Rückkehr im Hause der Gemeinen als einen der heftigsten Gegner des Sir Robert Walpole zeigte, ob es gleich sein Vater, einer der Kommissarien der Admiralität, mit dem Hofe hielt, so machte ihn Frederic, Prinz von Wallis, der sich um 1737 genöthigt säh, den Pallast von St. James zu verlassen,

*) Journalier, changeant de jour en jour, unbeständig.