Letters to His Son 1746-47 | Page 5

graciousness of a French Marechal, the
calculating adventurer who cuts unpretentious worthies to toady to
society magnates, who affects the supercilious air of a shallow dandy
and cherishes the heart of a frog. True, he repeatedly insists on the
obligation of truthfulness in all things, and of, honor in dealing with the
world. His Gentleman may; nay, he must, sail with the stream, gamble
in moderation if it is the fashion, must stoop to wear ridiculous clothes
and ornaments if they are the mode, though despising his weakness all
to himself, and no true Gentleman could afford to keep out of the little
gallantries which so effectively advertised him as a man of spirit sad
charm. Those repeated injunctions of honor are to be the rule, subject to
these exceptions, which transcend the common proprieties when the
subject is the rising young gentleman of the period and his goal social
success. If an undercurrent of shady morality is traceable in this
Chesterfieldian philosophy it must, of course, be explained away by the
less perfect moral standard of his period as compared with that of our
day. Whether this holds strictly true of men may be open to discussion,
but his lordship's worldly instructions as to the utility of women as
stepping-stones to favor in high places are equally at variance with the
principles he so impressively inculcates and with modern conceptions
of social honor. The externals of good breeding cannot be
over-estimated, if honestly come by, nor is it necessary to examine too
deeply into the prime motives of those who urge them upon a
generation in whose eyes matter is more important than manner.
Superficial refinement is better than none, but the Chesterfield pulpit
cannot afford to shirk the duty of proclaiming loud and far that the only
courtesy worthy of respect is that 'politesse de coeur,' the politeness of
the heart, which finds expression in consideration for others as the
ruling principle of conduct. This militates to some extent against the
assumption of fine airs without the backing of fine behavior, and if it
tends to discourage the effort to use others for selfish ends, it
nevertheless pays better in the long run.
Chesterfield's frankness in so many confessions of sharp practice
almost merits his canonization as a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson
has indeed placed him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, an immortality of
penance from which no good member of the writers' guild is likely to
pray his deliverance. He commends the fine art and high science of

dissimulation with the gusto of an apostle and the authority of an expert.
Dissimulate, but do not simulate, disguise your real sentiments, but do
not falsify them. Go through the world with your eyes and ears open
and mouth mostly shut. When new or stale gossip is brought to you,
never let on that you know it already, nor that it really interests you.
The reading of these Letters is better than hearing the average comedy,
in which the wit of a single sentence of Chesterfield suffices to carry an
act. His man-of-the-world philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of
Solomon, but will always be fresh and true, and enjoyable at any age,
thanks to his pithy expression, his unfailing common sense, his
sparkling wit and charming humor. This latter gift shows in the
seeming lapses from his rigid rule requiring absolute elegance of
expression at all times, when an unexpected coarseness, in some
provincial colloquialism, crops out with picturesque force. The beau
ideal of superfineness occasionally enjoys the bliss of harking back to
mother English.
Above all the defects that can be charged against the Letters, there rises
the substantial merit of an honest effort to exalt the gentle in woman
and man--above the merely genteel. "He that is gentil doeth gentil
deeds," runs the mediaeval saying which marks the distinction between
the genuine and the sham in behavior. A later age had it thus:
"Handsome is as handsome does," and in this larger sense we have
agreed to accept the motto of William of Wykeham, which declares
that "Manners maketh Man."
OLIVER H. G. LEIGH

LETTER I
BATH, October 9, O. S. 1746
DEAR BOY: Your distresses in your journey from Heidelberg to
Schaffhausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your
broken 'berline,' are proper seasonings for the greater fatigues and
distresses which you must expect in the course of your travels; and, if
one had a mind to moralize, one might call them the samples of the
accidents, rubs, and difficulties, which every man meets with in his
journey through life. In this journey, the understanding is the 'voiture'
that must carry you through; and in proportion as that is stronger or
weaker, more or less in repair, your journey will