Letters, sentences and maximsChesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of
General
Letters, sentences and maxims
Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of
Conduct of life; Maxims
PROPER CARRIAGE.--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 affectation. 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, 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. [_Same date._]
DESERT AND REWARD.--Deserve a great deal, and you shall have a great
deal; deserve little, and you shall have but a little; and be good for
nothing at all, and I assure 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. [_July 1, 1748._]
NO ONE CONTEMPTIBLE.--Be convinced that there are no persons so
insignificant and inconsiderable, but may some time or other, and in
something 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. [_Same
date._]
THE FOLLY OF CONTEMPT.--Wrongs are often given, but contempt never is.
Our 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 without 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 to be told of, one’s self. 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. [_Same date._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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