what will be very useful to you to know, and yet
what no other man living could or would tell you. Whatever I shall tell
you of this kind, you are very sure, can have no other motive than your
interest; I can neither be jealous nor envious of your reputation or
fortune, which I must be both desirous and proud to establish and
promote; I cannot be your rival either in love or in business; on the
contrary, I want the rays of your rising to reflect new lustre upon my
setting light. In order to this, I shall analyze you minutely, and
censure you freely, that you may not (if possible) have one single spot,
when in your meridian.

There is nothing that a young fellow, at his first appearance in the
world, has more reason to dread, and consequently should take more pains
to avoid, than having any ridicule fixed upon him. It degrades him with
the most reasonable part of mankind; but it ruins him with the rest; and
I have known many a man undone by acquiring a ridiculous nickname: I
would not, for all the riches in the world, that you should acquire one
when you return to England. Vices and crimes excite hatred and reproach;
failings, weaknesses, and awkwardnesses, excite ridicule; they are laid
hold of by mimics, who, though very contemptible wretches themselves,
often, by their buffoonery, fix ridicule upon their betters. The little
defects in manners, elocution, address, and air (and even of figure,
though very unjustly), are the objects of ridicule, and the causes of
nicknames. You cannot imagine the grief it would give me, and the
prejudice it would do you, if, by way of distinguishing you from others
of your name, you should happen to be called Muttering Stanhope, Absent
Stanhope, Ill-bred Stanhope, or Awkward, Left-legged Stanhope: therefore,
take great care to put it out of the power of Ridicule itself to give you
any of these ridiculous epithets; for, if you get one, it will stick to
you, like the envenomed shirt. The very first day that I see you, I shall
be able to tell you, and certainly shall tell you, what degree of danger
you are in; and I hope that my admonitions, as censor, may prevent the
censures of the public. Admonitions are always useful; is this one or
not? You are the best judge; it is your own picture which I send you,
drawn, at my request, by a lady at Venice: pray let me know how far, in
your conscience, you think it like; for there are some parts of it which
I wish may, and others, which I should be s