-------- ---.-.--._.--._.--.-------•••• • ►---~--~~~~*…*...--~~~--~~~~ ĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒ ºººººººººººººººº!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!--!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!ſae , , , ! ĮĮĮſ\\$ffffffÏļĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪİ] III ||||R1|| \!\! ĪĪĪĪĪĪĒĶĒý%ſ%ſįſūſīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīīſ ſ. ->~~~~*~::~~*~*=~--~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ * · · - .-~~~~~~ ~~~~!? :)--~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ (F-F)ī-№7 ! ĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪĪİ ºw-7. zºº. 2 ºzzº ºr ººz 4.--- - - Zºº * - - Ž * */ - º ZººZ º/ Zºº” Zºº” º/ -º-º-º-º-º: … -º-º-º-º- - º º - z Z . * º *z, yº/” *% **º --- º - - T #} E E L E MENTS A POLITE EDUCATION: FROM THE LETTERS - O F T H E L A TE RIGHT HONBLE PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, 474 EARL OF CHESTERFIELD, HIS SON. By G. GREGORY, D.D. Au'r HoR OF ESSAYS HISTORICAL AND MoR AL; o F THE ECONOMY OF NATURE, &c. &c. * LONDON : PRINTED FOR R. PHILLIPS, No. 71, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD, As p sold by T. Hu RST AND J. wallis, PATER Nostrº-row ; By cAR PENTER AND co. old Bos p sirer; T; BY LAck N GTo N, ALLFN, AND co. FINs at Rx-saº ARE; * AND BY ALL OTHER BOOKSELLE.R.S. tºº S. Hamilton, Printer, k alcon-Court, Flecº-street. [Price 4s. 6d. Aoa td.] /.../ - -*. ss ºr * º PREFACE. Azºv: A & - • A3 3/ & / - 24/4 & / THERE is not any book extant in our own, or perhaps in any other language, which contains ſuch a fund of uſeful pračtical knowledge as Lord Cheſter- field’s Letters to his Son. Impreſſed with this opinion, I had procured a copy, from which I meant to expunge every exceptionable paſſage, for the uſe and inſtruc- tion of my own children. On caſually mentioning the circumſtance before ſome intelligent perſons, who, as well as myſelf, were fathers of families, they united in a wiſh that the benefit might be more ex- tenſively diffuſed; and that an edition might be pub- liſhed, from which every ſentiment ſhould be care- fully expunged which might injure or pervert the morals of youth – they further recommended that the publication might have the ſanction of ſome name, not altogether unknown in the religious world, to give it that currency which its utility deſerved. '. | Such is the hiſtory of the book which is now pre- ſented to the public, a work from which no acceſ- fion of fame can be reaſonably expected, and with reſpect to which I commit myſelf, merely that the public may have ſome aſſurance that it contains no- thing but what is ſtrićtly moral, and, I truſt I may add, inſtructive. .” - The ſyſtem of education purſued by the Earl of Cheſterfield was that which is peculiarly adapted for forming a man of buſineſs, a man of the world. The uſes of this publication may therefore be compriſed in few words. - . 1ſt, It will ſerve as an excellent guide, a text book to parents and tutors with reſpect to the courſe of ſtudies, and the choice of books in the earlier - a 2: ... PREFACE. ſtages of education, and it includes-much elementary knowledge, conveyed in a ſtyle and manner which muſt be pleaſing and inſtructive to the young ſtu- dent himſelf. 2dly, It is well calculated to form a correót and elegant taſte in polite literature: it conveys a va- riety of uſeful inſtructions relative to ſtyle and man- ner, both in compoſition and in converſation. 3dly, Moſt of the common and uſeful topics of converſation are treated of in this work, and in a lively manner, and the political and hiſtorical anec- dotes ſcattered through theſe letters are ſuch as are likely at once to excite a ſpirit of inquiry in the minds of youth, and to furniſh them with mate- rials both for thought and converſation. " - 4thly, I do not know ſuch perfeót models of the epiſtolary ſtyle as the letters of Lord Cheſter- field; indeed, what Dr. Johnſon well remarks of another eminent writer, may with juſtice be applied to our author; “His proſe is the model of the mid- dle ſtyle: on grave ſubjećts not formal, on light oc- caſions not grovelling ; pure without ſcrupuloſity, and exact without apparent elaboration ; always equable, and always eaſy.” In a word, whoever wiſhes to write a good buſineſs letter, “whoever,” in the words of the ſame author, “wiſhes to attain an Engliſh ſtyle, familiar but not coarſe, and ele- gant but not oftentatious,” will find his time not miſpent in the peruſal of this volume. 5thly, The knowledge of mankind diſplayed in theſe letters is profound, without being ſyſte- matic, pračtical, without being trite. I really do not know a work in which the human heart is ſo well laid open, nor the manners of the world ſo accurately, ſo faithfully depićted. To a young man entering into life, we may, with ſome truth, when fpeaking of theſe letters, apply the ſaying of Lord Mansfield with reſpect to Blackſtone's Commen- ** PREFACE. taries, “That had that work been publiſhed when he was a young man, it would have ſaved him at leaſt ſeven years' ſtudy.” Laſtly, To every young perſon who has been brought up in retirement, the rules of good-breed- ing, and the obſervations on the manners of poliſh- ed ſociety, which he will find here, will prove highly inſtructive; from them he will learn at once how to condućt himſelf, and to judge with accu- racy of the manners and behaviour of others. I have only to add, that I believe I have pre- ſerved in this volume all that is really uſeful in the four volumes of Lord Cheſterfield's ſletters; I have omitted only what was exceptionable, or what was mere repetition, which, though well adapted to a private correſpondence ſuch as this, in order to en- force principles already laid down, can be only con- ſidered as lumber in a compilation for the public eye. The epiſtolary form is cautiouſly preſerved ; and the ſtyle, as well as the ſentiments, are entirely thoſe of the author. For the benefit of the Engliſh read- er, the paſſages from other languages are tranſlat- ed, and I have added a few notes where the ſubječt wanted elucidation. a G. G. Chaſtel-ſtreet, Bedford Row, july 1, 1800. a 3 * S CONTENTs. LETTER I. - Page JNTRODUCTION.Exhortation to Diligence in study.... Cato the Cenſor...................................................... II. Examples, from Ancient Hifiory, of Generoſity and Great- pefs of Soul.............. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * tº s & © e º 'º s e s s s & e s a s e º e s e º º e A tº ... ? III. On Irony................ tº a e º 'º a tº a e > * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * tº e º e º & .......... 3 ~#V. On Attentiº and Decency.............................. ....... 4 V. On Poetry... Poetical Epithets, &c......... © s a tº º tº º ºr a º 'º tº $ 6 & 8 ... ... 5 VJ. On Hiſtory, Geography, and Chronology.................... ... 6 VII. General View of Hiſtory and Chronology.................. 9 VIII. On Eloquence and Compoſition.............................. 12 IX Dićtion of Poetry........ ........................................... 13 -X. Modefiy and Baſhfulneſs.......................................... 15 XI. On Oratory............... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * e e s p s - e º 'º e s a s e e < * * * * ... 16 XII. Poetry and Metre........ • . . . . . tº e º e º e s is a 4 m e a t < * * * * * .............. 17 X II. Poetical Licences........ & a vº e º 'º g • * * * * * * * * • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ...... 19 XIV. Deſcriptive Poetry............... º e º s tº 6 & e º e º a & e s tº a s tº e • & e º sº s 2 & e º ºr 20 XV. Poetical Deſcription........................... tº a tº 4 & e º 'º e º 'º a 9 tº # * * . . 22 XVI. Oſtraciſm of the Athenians...Reading........... b s p s e s ∈ e • e 23 XVII. Study of Languages... Latin Radicals..................... ... 24 XVIII. Mentory...Attention...Poſture in Reading...........,... 25 XIX. On Ambition...Different Chara&ers it aſſumes.......... . 27 XX. Plagiariſm...Poetical Deſcription................. • * * * * * * * * * ... 28 XXI. Writing Themes recommended...Virtue.................. . 30 ~. XII. On Good-Breeding.....................,............. s e º a • * * * * 31 sº XIII. The leſſer Talents... Awkwardneſs...Deſcription of an av, kward Perſon...... © e g º º sº º ºr ºr e g s • e s s & so e º e e e s & e º 'º - * * * * * * s & s a a e e º ºr ... 33 *{XIV. On Vulgarity and Awkwardneſs........................... 36 XXV. Short Account of Paris...Oratory...Demoſthenes........ 38 XXVF. Account of Marſeilles........ tº e s - e º º e • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * , 39 XXVII. Modern Hiſtory...Origin of the preſent Governments of Europe.............. tº e º e º a s • e s e s e e º a tº a e º 'º e e º e º e s tº w a tº e º & e º 'º e º e º 'º e = * ... 41 XXVIII. General Deſcription of France........................... 43 XXIX. General Deſcription of Germany...................... ..... 46 XXX. Queen of Hungary...Origin of the late Conteſts in Germany........ © e s tº 4 ºf tº & G & 4 & e º & º e & º 'º e s tº e & ſº e º s e e º 'º e a tº $ tº © tº e º 'º a º e g º º ..... , 47. XXXI. Account of the Pope............... ... ....................... 49 XXXII. General View of Éngliſh Hiſtory..................... ..... 50 * XXIII. Exhortation to Good-Behaviour in Company..........., 58 -KXXIV. Good-Breeding...Marks of Reſpect...Civility to the Female Sex....... & a • * * * * * * tº º e º a tº ºr e º & • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * • * * * * * * tº tº e s s = e > XXXV. Style...Admonitions to Diligence................... ... .. 61 XXXVI. Horace...Style of the Auguſtan Age.... Epigram..... 63 XXXVII. Attention...Perſpicuity...Diſtruſt of Profeſſions...... 64. XXXVIII. Learning...Good-Breeding, &c................ ....... 66 > XXIX. The Female Sex...Not to attack Bodies of People... 67 XL. Directions in Travelling...Swiſs Cantons..................... 68 t CONTENTS. Letter Page XLI. Exhortation to Diligence in acquiring Knowledge........ 71 XLII. Negligence...Abſence of Mind in Company........ .....: '74 XLIII. On Pleaſure...Author's Review of his own Life........, 78 XLIV. Attention to one Thing at a Time......................... 80 XLV. Directions to a Young Traveller............................ . 89 XLVI. Superſtition... Lying.................................. .......... 83 XLVII. Knowledge of the World.............. tº e º 'º e = e o e s tº . . . . . . . . , 85 YLVIII. Cautions againſt haſty and improper Friendſhips..... 87 XLIX. The Art of Pleafing..... • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ..... 90 L. On Travelling, and Employment of Time................. . ... 93 LI. Learning and Pedantry........................................... 95 LII. Graceful Manner and Behaviour....Inquiries concerning Germany.......... tº ſº tº e º & © e º e º 'º tº a t < * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * g e & " " - e s m e º e s a 09 LIII. Inſtructions for reading Hiſtory................ * * * * * * * * * * * * * ... 102 LIV. Impertinent and Common-place Obſervations............ 105 LV. Politeneſs in Courts......... tº e - # * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * a e ... 108 LVI. Inſtructions in the Study of Hiſtory.......................... 110 LVII. Attention to Inferiors.......................................... I 12 LVIII. Indolent and frivolous Minds characteriſed...... * * * * * * * . I 14. LIX. Obſervations on Good-Condućt....Treaty of Munſter.... Riſe of the Houſe of Brandenburg...... tº a c e s e s e e º ºs * * * * * * * * * * * * * ... l l 7 LX. Cautions in reading Hiſtory...Great Power of France... Cauſes of Weakneſs in Allied Powers....................... ..... I 19 LXI. Cardinal de Retz... Popular Meetings...Traits of He- roiſm...Secrets.................... . © e e º 'º 6 tº ‘. . . . . . . 4 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ...... 123 LXII. Modern Latin...War...Quibbles of Lawyers...General , Principles of Juſtice...Caſuiſiry...Common Senſe the beſt - Senſe...Letter Writing....................... * * * tº e a tº e s tº a º ‘.......... 126 *LXIII. The Queſtion diſcuſſed, What is good Company 2... A Cautions againſt low Company...Againſt the Adoption of faſhionable Vices............. “. . . . . . . . .............................. 131 walkIV. Rules for Converſation...Cautions againſt a Spirit of arguing in Company...Inſtances of ridiculous Vanity in Con- verſation....Cautions againſt Egotiſm....Prudent Reſerve... Scandal....Mimicry....Swearing... Laughter.............. ....... 136 LXV. Cautions againſt the Levity and Giddineſs of Youth... : Againſt Indiſcretion in Converſation, and Captiouſneſs... Againſt meddling in other People's Concerns...Againſt re- peating in one Company what paſſes in ano' her....Bons Dia- bles...Steadineſs...Complaiſance...Marks of a low Mind..... 142 LXVI. Graces of Manner and Behaviour...The Duke of Marl- borough...General Inſtructions on the Subječt.................. 146; LXVII. Admonitions on firſt going into the World...Dreſ ...Vivacity........... e t e º e º e º e º 'º º * * * * * * * * * c e s e & e s tº e º 'º º LXVIII. Inſtructions relative to Expenſes...Neceſſity of keep- ing correót Accounts...Attention to the State of Pruſſia...... 153 LXIX. Neceſſity of an early Habit of Reflexion...Account of the Author’s early Condućt...Prejudices...Enthuſiaſm for the Ancients...Homer...Milton....Prejudices of Faſhion....The Pope...The Pretender...Prejudices of the French and Eng- liſh...Free and deſpotic Governments.............................. 156 CONTENTS. Letter - - sº - LXX. Of Pleaſures...Liberal and illiberal Pleaſures...Muſic... Inſtructions relative to Manners and viſiting Foreign Countries..... - s = * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.e. e. e s e s e º e s a • * * * * * * * * * * e is e º 'º - † tº ſº e e LXXI. Cautions againſt the Contagion of faſhionable Vices... º Ill Condućt and Manners of Engliſhmen on their Travels, &c. LXXII. Rules for Conduct in the great and buſy World”. Coolneſs and Self-command...Perſeverance in Bufineſs... Bons Mots - 4. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * LXXIII. Obſervations on Venice...Muſic....The Fine Arts... LXXIV. Knowledge of the World...Dignity of Manners... flattery....Vulgar Language....Frivorous Curioſity...Deco- rum...Courts.................. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * & LXXV. Admonitions againſt a Waſte of Time...Humorous Dialogue .............. tº e º 'º a º a ſº e º 'º as tº ſº tº tº º e º as tº & © tº e º ºs e º e º 'º e º 'º - " is º is is a tº º º ſº. -LXXVI. Abſence of Mind in Company.....Careleſſneſs in Manner and Dreſs...Deſcription of an awkward Perſon ..... •-LXXVII. Vulgarity how acquired...Deſcription of a vulgar Perſon...Vulgar Language...Trite and proverbial Expreſ- fions...Travelling in Italy................. © e º e s tº ºr a e º s - e º ſº e s e º e s - s - e. LXXVIII. Objećts of rational Inquiry to a Traveller...Archi- teóture...Painting and Sculpture................ ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . -LXXIX. General View of a good Education.....Principles of Virtue...Learning...Good-Breeding...Eaſe...Equality....Ci- wility to Inferiors.................................. tº a º 'º - tº º tº ºn tº # * * * * * * * LXXX. Of Style in Writing...Advantages of a good Style... Examples of a bad Style...Cicero and Quintilian............... LXXXI. Obſervations on Men-in general....Eloquence...The Eloquence of Popular Aſſemblies...Examples.................. LXXXII. The Subječt of Style continued......Parliamentary Speaking...Cicero's Definition of an Orator confuted......... • LXXXIII. The Subjećt of Eloquence continued...Lord Bo- lingbroke...His Hiſtory............. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . P.XXXIV. General Obſervations on Human Characters... Am- bition and Avarice...Cardinal Mazarin...Cardinal Richelieu ...Women, &c.......... e e tº a a a u e º e s - a s e º e º e º a v e a s • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * º LXXXV. Neceſſity of the leſſer Virtues...Cato and Caeſar... The Proud Man and the Pedant ......... tº ſº e s tº g º º tº e - © tº 6 tº e s a tº * * * tº tº LXXXVI. Reſpect for Religion recommended...Irreligious and immoral Writers cenſured...Strićt Morals and Religion equally neceſſary to Conduct and Character...The infaluous Chartres...Anecdote of him... Lying...Dignity of Character... ~£XXXVII. A proper Degree of Confidence in Company ro- commended...The Author's Embarraſſment when firſt in- troduced...Manners of different Countries...Old Women... I.XXXVIII. Uſe of Time... Punétuality...Uſeful Reading... Romances cenſured....Diſpatch and Method...Method of reading for Improvement. © - * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * • a s s a tº e º e º ºs e s e < * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * LXXXIX. Italian Literature...Dante...Taſſo...Arioſto...Gua- rini...Petrarch....Machiavelli... Bocaccio..... Guiceiardini..., . Bentivoglio, and Davila...Engliſh and French Authors....... Page I 63 . 66 169 219. 222 -Cô NTENTS, - i.etter . - Page XC. Curioſities, Hiſtory, &c. of Naples...Definition of a Poli- tical Conſtitution....Frei, ch, Engliſh, Poliſh, and Swedrſh Monarchies................. * * * * * * g s a tº G is e e s e º tº * * * * * * * * * * * * * = * * * * * * * * * * . 226 XCI. Idle and Fooliſh Companions...The French ill-educated and triling...Caution agaju fi frequenting Coffee-houſes... Knavery of Pariſians...Gambling...... # tº dº e º s º $ tº g tº iº e º ºs e g g g ........ 227 SSCII. Deſcription of an Engliſhman in Paris...French an ig- norant People...Women more improved than the Men... Deſpotic Elapire of Faſhion.............................. ;.......... 231 XCIII. Men of Pleaſure...German and Italian Languages...... 234 XCIV. Truth and Probity eſſential in all Stations...Candour ...Vanity...Modeſty...Syſtematic Condućt............ ......... 237 XCV. Travellers ought to pay Attention to all they go to fee ...The Genteel in Dreſs...Firmineſs in Demeanour............. 240 XCVI. Perſeverance and Ardour in Purſuits...Anecdote of Cardinal Mazarin and Don Louis de Haro...Want of Atten- tion and Abſence..................................................... 243 XCVII. Friendſhip....Art of Speaking...Hand-writing....The Polite World.......................................................... 245 SCVIII. Knowledge of the World...Syſtem-inongers...Flat- ' ', tery. . . . . . ................................................................ 249 XCIX. Earl of Huntingdon....Parliamentary Government.... Connections...Lady Hervey...Perſons raiſed in Life by ex- terior Manners...Chronological Hiſtory...Sully's Memoirs... 25.1 C. Hiſtory of France...Governinent of Clovis...States-General ...Tiers Etat...Family of Capet... Manner of ſtudying Hiſ- tory...Company and Converſation ............................... 254, I. Rules of Conduct...Dreſs...Gaming....Taverns...Toys ... . .” Character of a Rake.......................................... ....... 259 CII. Rules for the Conduct of a young Man ſetting out in the ' World...Greek Literature...&uarrels............................. 263 CIII. Rules for Conduct continued.....Perſonal Neatneſs... Taſte in Dreſs....Cleanlineſs...Reaſonableneſs of attending • * to little Things............................................ * * * * * * * ...... 265 CIV. French Marine and Commerce...Treaty of Cominerce... . Aćt of Navigation...Orthography............... tº e º s is e s ºf s is ........ 269 CV. French Language... Affectation of the French...Wit... French Writers...Progreſs and Decline of Taſte in France... Troubadours...Romances...Falſe Taſle of the French......... 272 CVI. Hand-writing...Politeneſs...Proper Uſe of Time....... ... 277 ‘CVII. Dignity of Charaćter...Conſtitution and Commerce of England...Oldcaſtle's Remarks on the Hiſtory of England... Character of a well-bred Man..................................... .289 CVIII. Docility...Neceſſity of conforming to the Manners of Foreigners....Suavity of Manners....Mode of electing the King of the Romans...... Uſes of the Italian and German Languages.’................ tº t e º e º º *_s is a e s e º e º 'º º º is a s = e & & 6 s is s a e e tº º º ſº tº $ tº º . 283 CIX. Bad Writing...Signatures...Poulets...Haſte and Hurry... Civility to old Acquaintances...Friends.........'.............. . 28't CX. Modeſty and Firmneſs...Modern, Hiſtorieal, and Political . Learning...La Bruyere...La Rochefoucault..................... 291 A' CONTENTS. - Letter Page CXI. Manner in Speaking....Parliamentary Orators....Lord Chatham...Lord Mansfield...The Citizen turned Gentleman, 294 CXII. Love and Reſpect...Martial’s celebrated Epigram para- phraſed.....Dr. Johnſon delineated.....Univerſity of Cam- bridge...Bill for reforming the Calendar.......…....... ... ...... 297 CXIII. Comment on the Words “Gentle in Manner, firm in Condućt’...Kings and Miniſters...Command of Temper...... 300 CXIV. Love and Hatred equally critical...Attentions in Com- pany....Conſtitution of Things at Paris...Difference between Seeing and Staring....................... ............ tº tº º ſº e º a * * tº s tº e ... 304- CXV. Reformation of the Calendar...His Lordſhip’s Conduct in that Affair....His Speech in the Houſe of Lords...Lord Macclesfield's...The pleaſing Speaker more applauded than the well-informed...Lord Bolingbroke's Style.................. 30:1 - CXVI. Knowledge of the World...Neceſſary Accompliſhments of a Foreign Miniſter...... Domeſtic Politics..... Death of the Prince of Wales............................................... tº e s tº * * * 3 l () CXVII. Courts...Keeping Secrets...Study of Aſtronomy and Geometry...Lord Cheſterfield's Speech....Oratory.............. 313 CXVIII. Judgment in Paintings...Style of Converſation at Paris...Neceſſity of adapting ourſelves to the Company...... 3 15 *GXIX. Attention to Manners...Corpulency....Behaviour in different Companios.................... © s e º 'º' is º is tº * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 313 CXX. A decifive and peremptory Manner cenſured... Addreſs in conducting an Argument....................................... GXXI.-Pietures...Rembrandt...Acquaintanees and Friends.... Mathematics, &c........... ** = e º e - a tº e º 'º - - - e is e • * * * * * * * * © & e e s tº º tº * * * * * * * 323 *&XXII. Graces of Manner and Behaviour eaſily acquired... In flance in a young Recruit...Elegance of Language......... 325 CXXIII. Books that teach to know Mankind...La Rochefou- cault... La Bruyere...Marchioheſs of Lambert's Advice to her Son...Courts and Cottages compared................ tº g º e º 'º tº gº 3:31 *CXXIV. Directions for Conduct and Behaviour in the Com- pany of great Perſons... In mixt Companies...Reſpect to dif- ferent Characters......... & e º e º e < * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * e e º e º e º e s a tº ... 33 CXXV. Seeing and not ſeeing...Converſation more improv- ing on Political Subječts than Books... Military Affairs.... Commerce of France...Small Talk...................... • * * * * 0 - - - . 335 CXXVI. . Detail of the Author's Introduction into the World Dreſs...................'.............................................. 338 CXXVII. Ducheſte d'Aiguillon...Lady Sandwich...Inſtrue- tive Company...Hunting...Studies to be adapted to our Def- tination.... Diſpute between the Court and the Clergy....... 34 ft. CXXVIII. Conduct of the Temper....Connections neceſſary to Advancements in mixed Governments... Dreſs................. 344 €XXIX. The proper Uſe of Friends.... Anecdotes:...Engliſh Language and Conſtitution... Art of Pleaſing.................... 346 CXXX. Letters of Buſineſs... Perſpicuity...General Ruſes for Compoſition...Uſe of the Relative...Ornament and Grace... . . Pedantry of Buſineſs................................................. ** * CONTENTS. 3,etter * Page CXXXI. Parliaments of France...Diſputes between Crown and “ Parliaments...States-General...Pais d'Etats...................... 352 CXXXII. Indolence and Inattention......Improvement to be reaped from good Converſation...French Laws and Cuſtoms, 355 CXXXIII. The Sorbonne...Theological Diſputes...Jeſuits... Ignatius Loyala...Policy of the Society...Paſchal's Provineia! Letters........ • * * * * * tº e s tº gº º • * * * * * * * * * * * it e º e it is º º º ſº º e tº e º a º 'º e º e º e º ºs e º 'º e º .... 359 CXXXIV. New Tragedy...French and Engliſh Drama...Criti- cal Remarks on Tragedy, Comedy, and Opera............. ..... 363 CXXXV. Critics...Queſtion debated how far Ridicule is the Teſt of Truth...Order of St. Eſprit...Anecdote of a Dane... Diſputes betwecn King and Parliament................ * * * * * * * * * 366 CXXXVI. Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on Hiſtory.....How Hiſtory is to be read with Effect...Neceſſity of Civility even to Inferiors....................... • a ſe e s tº e º 'º º * * * * * * * * * * * s e e e e s a e º s s e º ºs e e . 368 CXXXVII. Neceſſity of aiming at Perfeótion...Francis's Eu- genia...Parliament of Paris...Grand Conſeil............... ....... 371 CXXXVIII. Criticiſm on Arioſto...French and Engliſh Claſ- fics...Modern Languages...Delicacy of Expreffien...Fate of Eugenia...................... © e º 'º e º 'º e º 'o e a tº e º 'º $ & 4 * * * * * * * * * * * > * * * ........ 375 CXXXIX. Attention to Health neceſſary...Employment of Time... Sloth...Voltaire's Rome Sauvée, &c...... & e º e s e º e º te q - . 377 CXL. Theories of Youth...Triumph of the Heart and Paſ- fions.... Shades of Chara&er...Elečtion of King of the Ro- mans...Ill Policy in Nations giving a Pretext to neighbour- ing Powers to interfere in their Concerns...Examples......... 380 CXLI. Diſpute between the King and Parliament... Prophecy of the French Revolution...Voltaire’s Age of Louis XIV... 1njudicious Parents, Enemies to their Children................. 384 CXLII. Varieties and nice Diſtinčtions in the Human Cha- raćter....Cominand of Temper................................. .... 388 CXLIII. Romance of Caſſandra...German Courts...Attention to thoſe who ſpeak...Favourite Expreſſions of Fools .......... . 391 CXLIV. Injudicious Condućt of Parents in general....Faulty Education....Polite Education...Lord Albemarle...Duc de Richelicu.................. ..... • e e s e º e º e s a • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 395 *CXLV. Leiſure Hours...Uſeleſs and frivolous Books... Utility of reading ſyſtematically...Short View of the Hiſtory of Eu- rope from the Treaty of Munſter...Caution to avoid Diſputes, 397 ACXLVI., Court of Berlin...Court of Hanover...Pleaſing by little Attentions... Anecdote......... tº e º º a tº e º 'º & © tº tº e g º e º e a e - e - e º e s e e 402 .CXLVII. Court of Hanover...Favour at Courts...How ac- quired...Anecdotes....Cautions againſt Gaming........ ......... 404 *CXLVIII. Qualifications of a Courtier......Cautions againſt +. Drinking...Hanover....Court of Brunſwick....George the Se- * t s • a • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * • * * * * * * 40”! CXLIX. George the Second...Duke of Newcaſtle...Author’s Account of himſelf...Wit...Gentleneſs and Complaiſance more powerful Recommendations................................. 410. CL. Negotiations at Hanover...Election of King of the Ro- mans.....Weakneſs of the Houſe of Auſtria.....Views of the different Parties....................................................... 413 * & -5, 6 & B tº º e º 'º & • * tº º e g tº rv CONTENTS. Letter Page *SLI. Manners of different Countries....Abſurdity of drinking Healths...Faſhionable Manners...................... 5 s e e s a s a w s s • * 415 - CLII. Court of Berlin ...Voltaire...Epic Poetry....Holmer... Virgil... Milton...Taſſo...Charles XII...Heroes................ 41 8. CLIII. Popular Monarchs...Art of Pleaſing...Impediments to it - in the Young....Pride...Inattention...Baſhfulneſs.....Duke of Ormond...Duke of Marlboróugh...Advice to aſſociate with Superiors in Age and Rank........................................ , 420 CLIV. Voltaire's Hiſtory of the Cruſades, and of the Human Mind...Micromégas....Madmen and Knaves....Popes...The New Year & tº e º e g tº it e º ſº º tº e º e s tº e s tº * .....: tº º e º 'º e g º ºs e s p * tº e ... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * tº º sº. 495 CLV. Countenance.....Roughneſs in Manners...... Cabaliſtical Writers...Turkiſh Hiſtory...Deſpotiſm....... * * * * * * * * * * * a s s e e º 'º e º 'º 426 CLVI. Court of Manheim ....Good-Breeding ſecures a good Reception...Affairs of France...Danger to eſtabliſhed Go- vernments from the Military...Another Prophecy of the French Revolution...The Reaſons................... tº º e s is a s a ſº a tº & J & 430 ‘SILVII. Parliament...Means of acquiring Diſtinétion there... Neceſſity of not over-rating Mankind............................ 433 CLVIII. Method in Buſineſs....Duke of Marlborough...Duke ef Newcaſtle....Sir Robert Walpole....Indolence a Kind of Suicide....Tranſlating....................... tº e º ſº e s $ $ tº º ºs & e º 'º tº ſº a t < * * * * * 435 CLIX. Death of Mr. Pelham...Miniſterial Changes...Abſurd Political Speculations...Mr. Fox......... tº e º us tº º e º 'º is a º ºs e º e º & º $. e s e s a 4.38 CLX. Neceſſity of Self-command...Florid Style....Philoſophy of Cicero and Plato...................................... ............. 44() *CLXI. Tranſlations...Faults in Style...Faſhion in Style...Sin- gularity........... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *I tº a e s e º is a e e g º a 4 tº e s a s a tº º P & s e º 4 a. 443 Maxims by the Earl of Cheſterfield................... a s e s 'e s see e s e s e . 444 Maxing of the Cardinal de Retz... •º e º 'º a stee e º a tº e º 'º g tº $ º 4 tº *-* * * * * *, * * * * * 450 $f * THE GENERAL PRINCIPLES O F A Polite EDUCATION. º LETTER I. Introduction... Erhortation fo Diligence in Study...Cato the Censor. MY DEA R C H.I.L. D., * Bath, September the 30th. I AM very glad to hear that you are returned from your travels well, and in good humour. As I know you have a pleaſure in learning, I take it for granted that you have reſumed your ſtudies; for time is precious, life ſhort, and conſequently one muſt not loſe a ſingle moment. A man of ſenſe knows how to make the moſt of time, and puts out his whole ſum, either to intereſt or to pleaſure: he is never idle; but conſtantly em- ployed either in amuſements or in ſtudy. It is a ſaying, that idleneſs is the mother of all vice. At leaſt, it is certain, that lazineſs is the inheritance of fools; and no- thing ſo deſpicable as a ſluggard. - Cato the Cenſor, an old Roman of great virtue and much wiſdom, uſed to ſay, there were but three ačtions of his life which he regretted. The firſt was, the having told a ſecret to his wife; the ſecoi hat he had once gone by ſea when he might have g land; and the third, the having paſſed one day without doing any ...thing. Confidering the manner in which you employ your time, I own that I am envious of the pleaſure you will have in finding yourſelf more learned than other Jhoys, even thoſe who are jºr than yourſelf. What f ? - Examples from 1mcient IIistory. honour this will do you ! What diſtinétions, what ap- plauſes will follow, wherever you go You muſt con- feſs that this cannot but give you pleaſure. The being deſirous of ſurpaſſing them in merit and learning is a very laudable ambition; whereas, the wiſhing to out- fhine others in rank, in expenſe, in clothes, and in equipage, is a filly vanity, that makes a man appear ri- diculous. *-ºs--- LETTER II. Examples from Ancient IIistory of Generosity and Greatness of Soul. MY DEAR CHILD, - Bath, March the 28th. I HAVE received a letter from Mr. Maittaire, in which } gives a very good account of you. He tells me, you are going to begin again what you have already learned; you ought to be very attentive, and not repeat your leſſons like a parrot, without knowing what they II] &a Il . . In one of my letters I told you, that, in order to be a perfeótly virtuous man, juſtice was not ſufficient; for that generofity and greatneſs of ſoul implied much more. You will underſtand this better by examples: here are ſome. Alexander the Great, king of Macedonia, having conquered Darius, king of Perſia, took an infinite number of priſoners; and, among others, the wife and mother of Darius. Now, according to the laws of war, he might have made ſlaves of them'; but he had too much greatneſs of ſoul to make a bad uſe of his vic- tory; he therefore treated them as queens, and ſhow- ed them the ſame attentions and reſpect as if he had * been their º which Darius hearing, ſaid, that Alexander de d to be vićtorious, and was alone worthy to reign in his ſtead. Obſerve by this, how virtue and greatneſs of ſoul compel even enemies to beſtow praiſes. - Julius Caeſar too, the firſt emperor of the Romans, was in an eminent degree poſſeſſed of humanity, and this On Irony. 3 greatneſs of ſoul. After having vanquiſhed Pompey the Great, at the battle of Pharſalia, he pardoned thoſe, whom, according to the laws of war, he might have put to death ; and not only gave them their lives, but alſo reſtored them their fortunes, and their honours. |Upon which Ciceró, in one of his orations, makes this beautiful remark, ſpeaking to Julius Caeſar; “Fortune could not do more for you, than give you the power of ſaving ſo many people; nor Nature ſerve you better, than in giving you the will to do it.” You ſee by that, what glory and praiſe are gained by doing good ; be- fides the pleaſure which is felt inwardly, and exceeds all others. * - Adieu ! I ſhall conclude this letter, as Cicero often does his, jučeo te bene valere: that is to ſay, I order you to be in good health. ----sºº ºne- LETTER III. On Irony. B E A R B o Y, * Tunbridge, July the 15th. I THANK you for your concern about my health; which I would have given you an account of ſooner, but that writing does not agree with theſe waters. I am better ſince I have been here; and ſhall therefore ſtay a month longer. *, Signor Zamboni compliments me, thropigh you, much more than I deſerve; but pray do you take care to deſerve what he ſays of you; and remember, that praiſe, when it is not deſerved, is the ſevereſt ſatire and abuſe; and the moſt effectual way of expoſing people's vices and follies. This is a figure of ſpeech, called Irony; which is ſaying direétly the contrary of what you mean ; but yet it is not a lie, becauſe you plainly ſhow, that you mean direétly the contrary of what you ſay ; ſo that you deceive nobody. For example; if one were to compliment a notorious knave, for his fin- gular honeſty and probity, and an eminent fool for his wit and parts, the irony is plain- and every body would diſcover the ſatire. Or, ſuppoſe that I were to 2. 4 On Attention and Decency. commend you for your great attention to your book, and for your retaining and remembering what you have once learned, would not you plainly perceive the irony, and ſee that I laughed at you ? Therefore, whenever you are commended for any thing, confider fairly with yourſelf, whether you deſerve it or not; and if you do not deſerve it, remember that you are only abuſed and laughed at; and endeavour to deſerve better for the fu- ture, and to prevent the irony. r / LETTER IV. On Attention and Decency. MY DEAR Bo Y, July the 24th. I WAS pleaſed with your aſking me, the laſt time I ſaw you, why I had left off writing? for I looked upon it as a fign that you liked and minded my letters: if that be the caſe, you ſhall hear from me often enough ; and my letters may be of uſe, if you will give attention to them ; otherwiſe it is only giving myſelf trouble to no purpoſe ; for it ſignifies nothing to read a thing once, if one does not mind and remember it. It is a ſure fign of a little mind, to be doing one thing, and at the ſame time to be either thinking of another, or not thinking at all. One ſhould always think of what one is about : when one is learning, one ſhould not think of play : and when one is at play, one ſhould not think of one's learning, Beſides that, if you do not mind your book while you are at it, it will be a double trouble to you, for you muſt learn it all over again. - One of the moſt important points of life is decency; which is to do what is proper, and where it is proper; for many things are proper at one time, and in one place, that are extremely improper in another : for ex- ample; it is very proper and decent that you ſhould play ſome part of the day, but you muſt feel that it would be very improper and indecent, if you were to fly your kite, or play at nine-pins, while you were. with Mr. Maittaire. It is proper and decent to dance. well; but then you muſt dance only at balls, and places On Poetry...Poetical Epithets, &c. § of entertainment: for you would be reckoned a fool, if you were to dance at church, or at a funeral. 1 hope, by theſe examples, you underſtand the meaning of the word decency; which in French is bienſéance; in Latin, decorum ; and in Greek, zagstroy. As I am ſure you defire to gain Mr. Maittaire's approbation, without which you will never have mine, I dare ſay you will mind and give attention to whatever he ſays to you, and behave yourſelf ſeriouſly and decently while you are with him ; afterwards play, run, and jump, as much as ever you pleaſe: i --sºme- * LETTER V. On Poetry.., Poetical Epithets, &c. tºxar hoy, Friday. 1 WAS very glad when Mr. Maittaire told me, that you had more attention now than you uſed to have ; for it is the only way to reap any benefit by what you learn; Without attention, it is impoſſible to remember; and without remembering, it is but time and labour loſt to learn. I hope too, that your attention is not only em- ployed upon words, but upon the ſenſe and meaning of , thoſe words; that is, that when you read, or get any thing by heart, you obſerve the thoughts and reflex- ions of the author, as well as his words. This atten- tion will furniſh you with materials, when you come to compoſe and invent upon any ſubjećt yourſelf; for ex- ample, when you read of anger, envy, hatred, love, pity, or any of the paſſions, obſerve what the author ſays of them, and what good or ill effe&ts he aſcribes to them. Obſerve too the great difference between proſe and verſe, in treating the ſame ſubjećts. In verſe, the figures are ſtronger and bolder, and the dićtion or ex- preſſion loftier or higher, than in proſe; nay, the words in verſe are ſeldom put in the ſame order as in proſe. Verſe is full of metaphors, ſimilies, and epithets. Epithets (by the way) are adjećtives, which mark ſome particular quality of the thing or perſon to which they B 3 6 On History, Geography, and Chronology. are added: as, for example, pius Aºneas, the pious AEneas; pius is the epithet: Fama mendax, Fame that lies ;... mendai is the epithet : woºd.;-wxw; Axxxâv; ; Achilles ſwift of foot; aroëz;-wxug is the epithet. This is the ſame in all languages; as for inſtance; they ſay in French, L'envie pāle et éléme, l'amour aveugle ; in Engliſh, Pale, livid Envy, blind Love: theſe adjećtives are the epithets. Envy is always repreſented, by the poets, as pale, meagre, and pining away at other peo- ple's happineſs. Ovid ſays of Envy, t Vixque tenet lacrymas, quod nil lacrymabile cernit: which means, that Envy can ſcarce help crying, when ſhe ſees nothing to cry at; that is, ſhe cries when ſhe ſees others happy. Envy is certainly one of the meaneſt and moſt tormenting of all paſſions, fince there is bardly any body that has not ſomething for an envious man to en- yy; ſo that he can never be happy while he ſees any body elſe ſo.-Adieu ! . . . -mºme- LETTER VI, On History, Geography, and Chronology. prA.R. Bo Y, Iſleworth, September the 10th. SINCE you promiſe to give attention, and to mind what you learn, I ſhall give myſelf the trouble of writ- ing to you again, and ſhall endeavour to inſtrućt you in ſeveral things, that do not fall under Mr. Maittaire's province; and which, if they did, he could teach you much better than I can. I neither pretend nor propoſe to teach them you thoroughly ; you are not yet of an age fit for it: I only mean to give you a general notion, at preſent, of ſome things that you muſt learn more particularly hereafter, and that will then be the eaſier to you, for having had a general idea of them now. for example, to give you ſome notion of hiſtory. - Hiſtory is an account of whatever has been done by any country in general, or by any number of people, or by any one man: thus, the Roman hiſtory is an account of what the Romans did, as a nation; the hiſtory of Ca- On History, Geºgraphy, and Chronology. 7 tiline's conſpiracy is an account of what was done by a particular number of people; and the hiſtory of Alex- ander the Great, written by Quintus Curtius, is the ac- count of the life and ačtions of one ſingle man. Hiſ- tory is, in ſhort, an account or relation of any thing that has been done. - Hiſtory is divided into ſacred and prophane, ancient and modern. • , Sacred Hiſtory is the Bible, that is, the Old and New Teſtament. The Old Teſtament is the hiſtory of the Jews, who were God's choſen people; and the New Teſtament is the hiſtory of Jeſus Chriſt, the Son of God. r Prophane hiſtory is the account of the Heathen Gods, ſuch as you read in Ovid's Metamorphoſes, and which you will know a great deal more of when you come to read Homer, Virgil, and the other ancient poets. Ancient hiſtory is the account of all the kingdoms and countries in the world, down to the end of the Ro- man empire. . . w Modern hiſtory is the account of the kingdoms and countries of the world, ſince the deſtrućtion of the Ro- man empire. - The perfeót knowledge of hiſtory is extremely neceſ. fary; becauſe, "as it informs us of what was done by other people, in former ages, it inſtrućts us what to do in the like caſes. Beſides, as it is the common ſubjećt of converſation, it is a ſhame to be ignorant of it. Geography muſt neceſſarily accompany hiſtory; for it would not be enough to know what things were done formerly, but we muſt know where, they were done; and geography, you know, is the deſcription of the earth, and ſhows us the ſituations of towns, countries, and rivers. For example; geography ſhows you that. England is in the north of Europe, that London is the chief town of England, and that it is ſituated upon the river Thames, in the county of Middleſex : and the . ſame of other towns and countries. Geography is like- wiſe divided into ancient and modern : many countries and towns having, now, very different names from what they had formerly; and many towns, which made a great figure in ancient º being now utterly de- 4 8 . On History, Geography, and Chronolºgy, ſtroyed, and not exiſting: as the two famous towns of Troy in Afia, and Carthage in Africa; of both which there are not now the leaſt remains. Hiſtory muſt be accompanied with chronology, as well as geography, or eiſe one has but a very confuſed notion of it; for it is not ſufficient to know what things have been done, which hiſtory teaches us; and where they have been done, which we learn by geography: but one muſt know when they have been done, and that is the particular buſineſs of chronology. I will therefore give you a general notion of it. - Chronology fixes the dates of facts; that is, it in- forms us when ſuch and ſuch things were done; reckon- ing from certain periods of time, which are called aeras, or epochs: for example, in Europe, the two principal aeras, or epochs, by which we reckon, are, from the creation of the world to the birth of Chriſt, which was four thouſand years; and from the birth of Chriſt to this time, which is one thouſand ſeven hundred and thirty-nine years : ſo that, when one ſpeaks of a thing that was done be- fore the birth of Chriſt, one ſays, it was done in ſuch a year of the world; as, for inſtance, Rome was founded in the three thouſand two hundred and twenty-fifth year of the world; which was about ſeven hundred and fifty years before the birth of Chriſt; and one ſays, that Charlemain was made the firſt emperor of Germany in the year eight hundred; that is to ſay, eight hundred years after the birth of Chriſt. So that you ſee, the two great periods, aeras, or epochs, whence we date every thing, are, the creation of the world, and the birth of Jeſus Chriſt. r There is another term in chronology, called centu- ries, which is only uſed in reckoning after the birth of Chriſt. A century means one hundred years ; con- ſequently, there have been ſeventeen centuries ſince the birth of Chriſt, and we are now in the eighteenth cen- tury. When any body ſays then, for example, that ſuch a thing was done in the tenth century, they mean, after the year nine hundred, and before the year one ‘thouſand, after the birth of Chriſt. When any body makes a miſtake in chronology, and ſays that a thing was done ſome years ſooner, or ſome years later, than - rica of History and chronology, 9. it really was, that error is called an anachroniſm. €hronology requires memory and attention ; both which you can have if you pleaſe; and I ſhall try them both, by aſking you queſtions about this letter, the next time I ſee you. - - --mº ºne- LETTER VII. General Piew of History and Chronology. ‘pe A.R. Bo Y, * Iſleworth, September the 17th. IN my laſt letter I explained to you the meaning and uſe of hiſtory, geography, and chronology, and ſhowed you the connexion they had with one another : that is, how they were joined together, and depended each upon the other. The moſt ancient hiſtories of all are ſo mixed with fables, that is, with falſehoods and in- vention, that little credit is to be given to them. . The authentic, that is, the true ancient hiſtory, is divided into five remarkable periods or aeras, of the five great empires of the world. The firſt empire of the world was the Aſſyrian, which was deſtroyed by the Medes. The empire of the Medes was overturned by the Per- ſians; and the empire of the Perſians was demoliſhed by the Macedonians, under Alexander the Great. The empire of Alexander the Great laſted no longer than his life; for at his death his generals divided the world among them, and went to war with one another; till, at laſt, the Roman empire aroſe, ſwallowed them aſl up, and Rome became miſtreſs of the world. Rcmern: ber, then, that the five great empires that ſucceeded each other, were theſe : 1. The Aſſyrian empire, firſt eſtabliſhed. 2. The empire of the Medes. 3. The Perſian empire. 4. The Macedonian empire. * 5. The Roman empire. The word chronology is compounded of the Greek words Xgovog, which fignifies time, and Aoyos, which fignifies diſcourſe. Chronology and geography are called the two eyes of º, becauſe hiſtory can l I () P'iew of Iſistory and Chronology. never be clear, and well underſtood, without them. Hiſtory relates facts; chronology tells us at what time er when thoſe facts were done ; and geography ſhows us in what place or country they were done. The Greeks meaſured their time by Olympiads, which was a ſpace of four years, called in Greek Oxyuriz;. This method of computation had its riſe from the Olympic games, which were celebrated the beginning of every fifth year, on the banks of the river Alpheus, near Olympia, a city in Greece. The Greeks, for example, would ſay, that ſuch a thing happened in ſuch a year of ſuch an Olympiad; as, for inſtance, that Alexander the Great died. in the firſt year of the 1 14th Olympiad. The firſt Olym- piad was 774 years before Chriſt; ſo, conſequently, Chriſt was born in the firſt year of the 195th Olympiad. The period or aera whence the Romans reckoned their time was from the building of Rome, which they marked thus, ab U. C. that is, ab Urbe Conditá ". Thus, the kings were expelled, and the conſular government eſtabliſhed, the 244th ab U. C. that is, of Rome. All Europe now reckons from the great epocha of the birth of Jeſus Chriſt, which was 1738 years ago; ſo that, when any body aſks in what year did ſuch or ſuch a thing happen, they mean in what year ſince the birth of Chriſt. - For example; Charlemain, in French Charlemagne, was made emperor of the Weſt in the year 8oo; that is, 8oo years after the birth of Chriſt; but if we ſpeak of any event or hiſtorical fact that happened before that time, we then ſay, it happened ſo many years before Chriſt. For inſtance; we ſay Rome was built 750 years before Chriſt. - The Turks date from their Hegira, which was the year of flight of their falſe prophet, Mahomet, from Mecca; and, as we ſay that ſuch a thing was done in ſuch a year of Chriſt; they ſay, ſuch a thing was done in ſuch a year of the Hegira. Their Hegira begins in the 622d year of Chriſt, that is, a ve I ſoo years ago. . There are then two great periods in chronology, from which the nations of Europe date events. The firſt is * From the building of the city. Piew of History and Chronology. . 11 the creation of the world, the ſecond the birth of Jeſus Chriſt. Thoſe events that happened before the birth of Chriſt are dated from the creation of the world. Thoſe events which have happened ſince the birth of Chriſt, are dated from that time; as the preſent year 1739. For ex- ample ; * * ~ A.M. Noah's flood happened in the year of the world 1656 Babylon was built by Semiramis, in the year - 1800 Moſes was born in the year • sº 24oo Troy was taken by the Greeks, in the year - 28oo Rome founded by Romulus, in the year - 3225 Alexander the Great conquered Perſia º 3674 Jeſus Chriſt born in the year of the world - 4ooo The meaning of A. M. at the top of theſe figures, is Anno Mundi, the Year of the World. sº -> From the birth of Chriſt all Chriſtians date the events that have happened ſince that time, and this is called the Chriſtian aera. Sometimes we ſay, that ſuch a thing happened in ſuch a year of Chriſt, and ſometimes we ſay in ſuch a century, Now a century is one hundred years from the birth of Chriſt; ſo that at the end of every hundred years a new century begins; and we are, conſequently, now in the eighteenth century. For example, as to the Chriſtian aera, or ſince the birth of Chriſt : e *t Mahomet, the falſe prophet of the Turks, who eſtabliſhed the Mahometan religion, and wrote the Alcoran, which is the Turkiſh book of re- ligion, died in the ſeventh century; that is, in the year of Chriſt tº. - . . - * , 632 Charlemain was crowned emperor in the laſt year of the eighth century, that is, in the year - 8oo Here the old Roman empire ended. William the Conqueror was crowned king of England in the eleventh century, in the year ... 1066 The reformation, that is, the Proteſtant religion, , , begun by Martin Luther, in the fixteenth cen- . tury, in the year - ... - ..- . I 539 B 6 3. 12 , On Eloquence and Composition. A. M. Gunpowder invented, by one Bertholdus, a Ger- man monk, in the fourteenth century, in the year tº tº dºe º F38o Printing invented, at Haarlem in Holland, or at Straſbourg, or at Mentz in Germany, in the fif- teenth century, about the year Gº tº 1440 & Adieu ! *º - ºne-a- LETTER VIII. On Eloquence and Composition. MY DEAR CHILD, Bath, Odober the 17th. INDEED I believe you are the firſt boy to whom (un- der the age of eight years) one has ever ventured to mention the figures of rhetoric ; but I am of opinion that we cannot begin to think too young, and that the art which teaches us how to perſuade the mind, and touch the heart, muſt ſurely deſerve the earlieſt at- tention. g You cannot but be convinced, that a man who ſpeaks and writes with elegance and grace; who makes choice of good words; and adorns and embelliſhes the ſubjećt upon which he either ſpeaks or writes, will perſuade better, and ſucceed more eaſily in obtaining what he wiſhes, than a man who does not explain himſelf clear- ly, ſpeaks his language ill, or makes uſe of low and vulgar expreſſions, and who has neither grace nor ele- gance in any thing that he ſays. Now it is by rhetoric that the art of ſpeaking eloquently is taught : and, though I cannot think of grounding you in it as yet, I would with however to give you air idea of it, ſuitable to your age. The firſt thing you ſhould attend to is, to ſpeak what- ever language you do ſpeak in its greateſt purity, and according to the rules of grammar; for we muſt never offend againſt grammar, nor make uſe of words which are not really words. This is not all; for not to ſpeak ill is not ſufficient; we muſt ſpeak well; and the beſt £aethod of attaining to that is, to read the beſt authors –4 Diction of Poetry. 13 with attention; and to obſerve how people of faſhion ſpeak, and thoſe who expreſs themſelves beſt; for ſhop- keepers, common people, footmen, and maid-ſervants, all ſpeak ill. They make uſe of low and vulgar ex- preſſions, which people of rank never uſe-Hn numbers, they join the fingular and the plural together; in gen- ders, they confound maſculine with feminine; and, in tenſes, they often take the one for the other. In order to avoid all theſe faults, we muſt read with care, obſerve the turn and expreſſions of the beſt authors, and not paſs a word which we do not underſtand, or concerning which we have the leaſt doubt, without exačtly inquir; ing the meaning of it. For example, when you rea Ovid's Metamorphoſes with Mr. Martin, you ſhould aſk him the meaning of every word you do not know ; and alſo, whether it is a word that may be made uſe of in proſe, as well as in verſe; for the language of poetry is different from that which is proper for common diſ. courſe; and a man would be to blame to make uſe of ſome words in proſe which are very happily applied in poetry. In the ſame manner when you read French with Mr. Pelnote, aſk him the meaning of every word you meet with, that is new to you; and defire him to give you examples of the various ways in which it may be uſed. All this requires only a little attention ; and yet there is nothing more uſeful. It is ſaid, that a man muſt be born a poet, but that he can make himſelf an orator. This means, that, to be a poet, one muſt be born with a certain degree of ſtrength and vivacity of mind; but that attention, reading, and labour, are ſufficient to form an orator. Adieu ! -ººººm-t- LETTER IX. Diction of Poetry. pe Ak BOY, Bath, Oétober the 26th. THOUGH poetry differs much from oratory in many things, yet it makes uſe of the ſame figures of rhetoric; may, it abounds in metaphors, finilies, and allegories; and you may learn the purity of the language, and the * I 4' Diction of Poetry. ornaments of eloquence, as well by reading verſe as profe. Poetical dićtion, that is, poetical language, is more ſublime and lofty than proſe, and takes liberties which are not allowed in proſe, and are called Poetical Licences. This difference between verſe and proſe you will eaſily obſerve, if you read them both with at- tention. In verſe, things are ſeldom ſaid plainly and ſimply, as one would ſay them in proſe; but they are deſcribed and embelliſhed : as for example, what you hear the watchman ſay often in three words, a cloudy morning, is ſaid thus in verſe, in the tragedy of Cato : * The dawn is overcaſt, the morning lowers, And heav ily in clouds brings on the day. This is poetical dićtion ; which would be improper in proſe, though each word ſeparately may be uſed in proſe. I will give you, here, a very pretty copy of verſes of Mr. Waller's, which is extremely poetical, and full of images. It is to a lady who played upon the lute. The lute, by the way, is an inſtrument with many ſtrings, which are played upon by the fingers, Such moving ſounds from ſuch a careleſs touch, So little ſhe concern’d, and we ſo much. The trembling ſtrings about her fingers crowd, And tell their joy, for every kiſs, aloud. Small force there needs to make thcm tremble ſo, Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too Here Love takes ſtand, and, while ſhe charms the ear, Empties his quiver on the liſt’ning deer. Muſic ſo ſoftens and diſarms the mind, That not one arrow can reſiſtance find, Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize, And acts hel ſelf the triumph of her eyes. So Nero once, with harp in hand, ſurvey’d His flaming Rome : and as it burnt, he play’d. Mind all the poetical beauties of theſe verſes. He fuppoſes the ſounds of the ſtrings, when ſhe touches them, to be the expreſſion of their joy for kiffing her fingers. Then he compares the trembling of the ſtrings to the trembling of a lover, who is ſuppoſed to tremble with joy and awe when touched by the perſon he loves. He repreſents Love (who, you know, is deſcribed as a little boy, with a bow, arrows, and a quiver) as ſtand- Modesty and Bashfulness. I5. ing by her, and ſhooting his arrows at people's-hearts, while her muſic ſoftens and diſarms them. Then he concludes with that fine ſimile of Nero, a very cruel Roman emperor, who ſet Rome on fire, and played on the harp all the while it was burning: for, as Love is re- preſented by the poets as fire and flames; ſo ſhe, while people were burning for love of her, played, as Nero did while Rome, which he had ſet on fire, was burning. Pray get theſe verſes by heart againſt I ſee you. Adieu ! -º-, m- LETTER X. Modesty and Bashfulness. MY DEAR CHILD, Bath, Oétober the 29th. IF it is poſſible to be too modeſt, you are ; and you de- ferve more than you require. Modeſty is a very good quality, and which generally accompanies true merit: it engages and captivates, the minds of people; as, on the other hand, nothing is more ſhocking and diſguſtful than preſumption and impudence. We cannot like a man who is always commending and ſpeaking well of himſelf, and who is the hero of his own ſtory. On the contrary, a man who endeavours to conceal his own mérit; who ſets that of other people in its true light; who ſpeaks but little of himſelf, and with modeſty : ſuch a man makes a favourable impreſſion upon the underſtanding of his hearers, and acquires their love and eſteem. There is, however, a great difference between mo- deſty and an awkward baſhfulneſs, which is as ridicu- lous as true modeſty is commendable. It is as abſurd to be a ſimpleton as to be an impudent fellow ; and one ought to know how to come into a room, ſpeak to peo- ple, and anſwer them, without being out of counte- nance, or without embarraſſment. A mean fellow, or a country bumpkin, is aſhamed when he comes into good company; he appears embarraſſed, does not know what to do with his hands, is diſconcerted when ſpoken to, anſwers with difficulty, and almoſt ſtammers: whereas a gentleman, who is uſed to the world, comes into com- #6. On Gratory. \ pany with a graceful and proper aſſurance, ſpeaks even to people he does not know without embarraſſment, and in a natural and eaſy manner. … This is called uſage of the world and good breeding; a moſt neceſſary and important knowledge in the intercourſe of life . It fre- quently happens that a man with a great deal of ſenſe, but with little uſage of the world, is not ſo well receiv- ed as one of inferior parts, but with a gentleman-like behaviour. Theſe are matters worthy your attention; refle&t on them, and unite modeſty to a polite and eaſy behaviour. Adieu ! -*º- T.ETTER XI • On Oratory. \, Toy AR Boy, November the [ſt. LET us return to oratory, or the art of ſpeaking well; which ſhould never, be entirely out of your thoughts, fince it is ſo uſeful in every part of life, and ſo abſo- lutely neceſſary in moſt. A man can make no figure without it, in parliament, in the church, or in the law; and even in common converſation, a man that has act quired an eaſy and habitual eloquence, who ſpeaks pro- perly and accurately, will have a great advantage over thoſe who ſpeak incorreółly and inelegantly. The buſineſs of oratory, as I have told you before, is to perſuade people; and you eaſily feel, that to pleaſe people is a great ſtep towards perſuading them. You muſt then, conſequently, be ſenfible how advantageous it is for a man, who ſpeaks in public, whether it be in parliament, in the pulpit, or at the bar (that is, in the courts of law), to pleaſe his hearers ſo much as to gain their attention : which he can never do without the help of oratory. It is not enough to ſpeak the lan- guage he ſpeaks in, in its utmoſt purity, and according to the rules of grammar; but he muſt ſpeak it elegant- ly; that is, he tnuſt chooſe the beſt and moſt expreſſive words, and put them in the beſt order. He ſhould likewiſe adorn what he ſays by proper metaphors, Poetry and Meire, 17 finilies, and other figures of rhetoric ; and he ſhould enliven it, if he can, by quick and ſprightly turns of wit. For example, ſuppoſe you had a mind to perſuade Mr. Maittaire to give you a holydäy, would you blunt- ly ſay to him, Give me a holyday That would certain- ly not be the way to perſuade him to it. But you ſhould endeavour firſt to pleaſe him, and gain his at- tention, by telling him, that your experience of his goodneſs and indulgence encouraged you to aſk a fa- wour of him; that, if he ſhould not think proper to grant it, at leaſt you hoped he would not take it ill that you aſked it. Then you ſhould tell him what it was that you wanted; that it was a holyday; for which you ſhould give your reaſons; as, that you had ſuch or ſuch a thing to do, or ſuch a place to #. to. Then you might urge ſome arguments why he ſhould not re- fuſe you; as, that you have ſeldom aſked that favour, and that you ſeldom will; and that the mind may ſometimes require a little reſt from labour, as well as the body. This you may illuſtrate by a ſimile, and ſay, that, as the bow is the ſtronger for being ſome- times unſtrung and unbent, ſo the mind will be capable i. more attention for being now and then eaſy and re- axed. - - This is a little oration, fit for ſuch a little orator as you; but, however, it will make you underſtand what is meant by oratory and eloquence; which is to per- ſuade. I hope you will have that talent hereafter in greater matters. *ºtºm-º. LETTER XII. Poetry and Metre. pe AR Boy, Tunbridge, July the 29th. SINCE you are ſo ready at the meaſure of Greek and Latin verſes, as Mr. Maittaire writes me word you are, he will poſſibly, before it is very long, try your inven- tion a little, and ſet you to make ſome of your own compoſition ; you ſhöuld therefore begin to confider f3 - Poetry and Metre. not only the meaſure of the verſes you read, but like- wiſe the thoughts of the poet, and the ſimilies, meta- phors, and alluſions, which are the ornaments of poe- try, and raiſe it above proſe; and diſtinguiſh it from proſe as much as the meaſure does. This attention to the thoughts and dićtion of other poets will ſuggeſt both matter, and the manner of exprefing it, to you, when you come to invent yourſelf. Thoughts are the ſame in every language, and a good thought in one language is a good one in every other : thus, if you attend to the thoughts and images in French or Eng- liſh poetry, they will be of uſe to you when you com- poſe in Latin or Greek. I have met lately with a very pretty copy of Engliſh verſes, which I here ſend you to learn by heart; but firſt, I will give you the thought in proſe, that you may obſerve how it is expreſſed, and adorned by poetical dićtion, X- The poet tells his miſtreſs, Florella, that ſhe is ſo unkind to him, ſhe will not even ſuffer him to look at her; that, to avoid her cruelty, he addreſſes himſelf to . other women, who receive him kindly; but that, not- withſtanding this, his heart always returns to her, though ſhe uſes him ſo ill; and then he concludes with this beautiful and apt ſimile, in which he compares his fate to that of exiles (that is, people who are baniſhed from their own country), who, though they are pitied in whatever country they go to, yet long to return to their own, where they are ſure to be uſed ill, and puniſhed. - • Why will Florella, when I gaze, My raviſh'd eyes reprove, - And hide from them the only face They can behold with love? To ſhun her ſcorn, and eaſe my care, I ſeek a nymph more kind, . . And while I rove from fair to fair, * . Still gentler uſage find. But oh how faint is every joy, Where Nature has no part . New beauties may my eyes employs But you engage my heart. Poetical Licences. a. }S). So reſtleſs exiles, dºom'd to roam, Meet pity ey ery - where; Yet ſanguiſh for their native heme, Though death attends them there. You will obſerve that theſe verſes have alternate rhymes; that is, the third line rhymes to the firſt, and the fourth line to the ſecond ; the firſt and third lines having four feet each ; and the ſecond and fourth hav- ing but three feet each. A foot, in Engliſh verſe, is moſt commonly two ſyllables. To uſe your ear a little to Engliſh verſe, and to make you attend to the ſenſe too, I have tranſpoſed the words of the follºwing lines; which I would have you put in their proper order, and ſend me in your next. - Life conſider cheat a when tis all I Hope with fool’d, deceit men yet with favour Repay will to-morrow truſt on think and Falſer former day to-morrow's than the Worſe lies bleſt be ſhall when and we ſays it liope now ſome poſſeſs'd cuts off with we what. The ſimile. Adieu ! . J - - - - ... * , - $ LETTER XIII, Poetical Licences. -- p ga R Boy, * Tunbridge, Auguſt the 14th. I AM very glad to hear from Mr. Maittaire, that you are ſo ready at ſcanning both Greek and Latin verſes; but I hope you mind the ſenſe of the words, as well as the quantities. The great advantage of knowing many languages conſiſts in underſtanding the ſenſe of thoſe nations, and authors, who ſpeak and write thoſe lan- guages; but not being able to repeat the words like a parrot, without knowing their true force and meaning. The poets require your attention and obſervation more than the proſe authors; poetry being more out of the common way than proſe compoſitions are. Poets have greater liberties allowed them than proſe writers, which is, called the poetical licence. Horace ſays, that poets. and painters have an equal privilege of attempting any, thing. Fićtion, that is, invention, is ſaid to be the £0. Descriptice Poetry... Epithets, ſoul of poetry. For example, the poets give life to ſeveral inanimate things; that is, to things that have no life: as, for inſtance, they repreſent the paſſions, as Love, Fury, Envy, &c. under human figures; which figures are allegorical ; that is, repreſent the qualities and effects of thoſe paſſions. . Thus the poets repreſent Love as a little boy, called Cupid, becauſe love is the º of young people chiefly. He is repreſented lind likewiſe, becauſe Love makes no diſtinétion, and takes away the judgement. He has a bow and arrows, with which he is ſuppoſed to wound people, becauſe Love gives pain; and he has a pair of wings to fly with, becauſe Love is changeable, and apt to fly from one ob- jećt to another. Fury is likewiſe repreſented under the figures of three women, called the three furies, Alećto, Megaera, and Tifiphone. They are deſcribed with lighted torches or flambeaux in their hands, becauſe Rage and Fury is for ſetting fire to every thing. They are likewiſe drawn with ſerpents hiſſing about their heads, becauſe ſerpents are poiſonous and deſtrućtive animals. Envy is deſcribed as a woman, melancholy, pale, livid, and pining; becauſe envious people are never pleaſed, but always repining at other people's happineſs. She is ſuppoſed to feed upon ſerpents; be- cauſe envious people only comfort themſelves with the misfortunes of others. * With this paſſion I hope you will have too generous a mind ever to be infected; but that, on the contrary, you will apply yourſelf to virtue and learning, in ſuch a manner as to become an objećt of envy yourſelf. Adieu: • *ºne--- LETTER xiv. x Descriptive Poetry...Epithets. ' º prak Box, . . . I MENTIONED deſcription, or painting, as one of the ſhining marks or charaćteriſtics of poetry. The likeneſs muſt be ſtrong and lively, and make us almoſt think that we ſee the thing before our eyes. Friday, - Descriptive Poetry... Epithets. 21 1 will now give you an excelleat piece of painting, or deſcription, in Engliſh verſe; it is in the tragedy of Phaedra and Hippolytus. Phaedra was the ſecond wife of the famous Theſeus, one of the firſt kings of Athens; and Hippolytus was his ſon by his former wife. Look for the further particulars of their ſtory in your dic- tionary, under the articles Phedra and Hippolitus. So when bright Venus yielded up her charms, The bleft Adonis languiſh’d in her arms. His idle horn on fragrant myrtles hung; His arrows ſcatte'd, and his bow unſtrung. Obſcure, in coverts, lie his deaming hounds, And bay the fan, ied boar with feeble ſounds. For nobler ſports he quits the ſavage fields, And all tire hero to the lover yields. I have marked the epithets, that you may the better obſerve them. Venus is called bright, upon account of her beauty: Adonis is called blºff, becauſe Venus was in love with him : his horn is ſaid to be idle, be. cauſe he then laid it by, and made no uſe of it: the myrtles are called fragrant, becauſe the myrtle is a ſweet-ſmelling tree; moreover, the myrtle is, the parti- cular tree ſacred to Venus: ſcatter'd arrows, becauſe laid by here and there, careleſsly. The #w un/rung; it was the cuſtom to unſtring the bow when they did not uſe it, and it was the ſtronger for if afterwards. I}reaming hounds: hounds that are uſed to hunt often dream they are hunting; as appears by their making the ſame noiſe, only not ſo loud, when they are aſleep, as they do when they are hunting ſome wild beaſt; there- fore, the ſounds are called feeble. Savage fields; ſo called from the roughneſs of field ſports, in compariſon with the tenderneſs and ſoftneſs of love., Adonis was extremely handſome, and a great ſportſ- man; he uſed to employ his whole time in hunting boars and other wild beaſts. Venus fell in love with him, and uſed frequently to come down to him : he was at laſt killed by a wild-boar, to the great grief of Venus. Look for Adonis in your dićtionary; for, though you have read his ſtory in Ovid's Metamor- phoſes, I believe that excellent memory of yours wants refreſhing. - Hence, when a man is extremely hand- ſome, he is called, by metaphor, an Adonis.-Adieu.! [ 22 J LETTER XV. & | g * Poetical Description. DEA R P oy, Saturday. YOUR laſt tranſlations were very well done, and I believe you begin to apply yourſelf more. This you may depend upon, that the more you apply, the eaſier you will find your learning, and the ſooner you will have done with it. But, as I have often told you be- fore, it is not the words only that you ſhould mind, but the ſenſe and beauties of the authors you read ; which will furniſh you with matter, and teach you to think juſtly upon ſubjećts. For example, if you were to ſay, in poetry, that it was morning, you would not barely ſay it was morning, that would not be poetical; but you would repreſent the morning under ſome image, or by deſcription; as thus, Lo! from the roſy eaſt, her /iu/ile doors The Moin unfolds, adorn'd with blu/img flowers. The Jeffen’d ſtars draw off and diſappear, ! gr Whoſe bright battalions, laſily, Lucifer * Q, and quits his ſtation in the rear. - fººhe day always riſes in the eaſt ; and ... ºd, from the roſy eaſt : roſy is the epi- ,"becauſe the break of day, or the Aurora, is of a reddiſh roſy colour. Obſerve too, that Lucifer is the name of that ſtar that diſappears the laſt in the morn- ing; for the aſtrongſhers have given names to moſt of the ſtars. The three. lines, which have the ſame rhymes, are gaºl a tripſet, which is always marked as I have maſſed it.” Here is another way of ſaying that it is morning, hºts Virgil expreſſes it: ~ And now Aurora, harbinger of day, Roſe from the ſaffron bed where Tithon lay, *And ſprinkled o'er the world with new-born light: The ſup now ſhining, all things brought to ſight. Look in your dićtionary for the articles Aurora and Titi onus, where you will find their ſtory. Tithon was the huſband of Aruora. Aurora, in poetical language, means the break of day, or the firſt part of the morn. ing. Harbinger (by the way) means forerunner, or a Ostracism of the Athenians... Reading. 23 perſon who is ſent before-hand, by another, upon a journey, to prepare things for him. The king has ſe- veral harbingers, that go before him upon the road, to prepare his lodging, and get every thing ready. So Aurora, or the morning, is called, by a metaphor, the harbinger of day, becauſe it foreruns the day. I expect very good verſes, of your making, by that time you are ten years old; and then you ſhall be called Poeta Decennis “, which will be a very uncommon, and, conſequently, a very glorious title. Adieu ! •-mºº ºm- LETTER XVI. Ostracism of the Athenians...Reading. to E A R Box, Bath, Oétober the 14th. SINCE I have recommended to you to think upon ſub- jećts, and to confider things in their various lights and circumſtances, I am perſuaded you have made ſuch a progreſs, that I ſhall ſometimes deſire your opinion, upon difficult points, in order to form my own. For inſtance, though I have, in general, a great veneration for the manners and cuſtoms of the ancients, yet I am in ſome doubt whether the oſtraciſm of the Athenians was either juſt or prudent ; and ſhould be glad to be determined by your opinion. You know very well, that the oſtraciſm was the method of baniſhing thoſe whoſe diſtinguiſhed virtue made them popular, and Conſequently (as the Athenians thought) dangerous to the public liberty. And, if ſix hundred citizens of Athens gave in the name of any one Athenian, written upon an oyſter-ſhell (whence it is called oſtraciſm) that man was baniſhed Athens for ten years. On one hand, it is certain, that a free people cannot be too careful or jealous of their liberty; and it is certain too, that the love and applauſe of mankind will always attend a man of eminent and diſtinguiſhed virtue; conſequent- ly, they are more likely to give up their liberties to ſuch a one than to another of leſs merit. But then, ". * A poet of ten years old. * f* f 24 Study of Languages... Latin Radicals. on the other hand, it ſeems extraordinary to diſcourage virtue upon any account, ſince it is only by virtue that any ſociety can flouriſh, and be conſiderable. There are many more arguments, on each ſide of this queſtion, which will naturally occur to you; and, when you have confidered them well, I deſire you will write me your opinion, whether the oſtraciſm was a right or a wrong thing ; and your reaſons for being of that opi- nion. Let nobody help you, but give me exactly your own ſentiments, and your own reaſons, whatever they are, w I hope Mr. Pelnote makes you read Rollin with great care and attention, and recapitulate to him whatever you have read that day; I hope, too, that he makes you read aloud, diſtinétly, and obſerve the ſtops. Defire your mamma to tell him ſo from me; and the ſame to Mr. Martin: for it is a ſhame not to read perfeótly well. —-m— LETTER XVII. Study of Languages... Latin Radicals. D.E.A.R. Bo Y, THE ſhorteſt and beſt way of learning a language is to know the roots of it; that is, thoſe original, primi- tive words, of which many other words are made, by adding a letter, or a prepoſition to them, or by ſome ſuch ſmall variation, which makes ſome difference in the ſenſe: thus, you will obſerve, that the prepoſitions, a, ač, abº, e, ex, pro, prae, per, inter, circum, ſuper, tranſ, and many others, when added to the primitive verb or noun, alter its ſignification accordingly ; and, when you have obſerved this in three or four inſtances, you will know it in all. It is likewiſe the ſame in the • Greek, where, when you once know the roots, you will ſoon know the branchese Thus, in the paper I ſend you to get by heart, you will obſerve, that the verb fero, I carry, is the root of fixteen others, whoſe fignifications differ from the root, only by the addition of a letter or two, or a prepoſition; which letters or prepoſitions make the ſame alterations to all words to which they -, * * Memory...Attention...Posture in Reading. *25 are added: as, for example, ex, which fignifies out, when joined to co, I go, makes, I go out, exeo ; when joined to traho, I draw, it makes, I draw out, extraho; and ſo in all other caſes of the ſame nature. The pre- poſition per, which ſignifies thoroughly or completely, as well as by, when joined to a verb or noun, adds that ſignification to it; when added to fero, I carry, it makes perfero, I carry thoroughly; when added to facio, I do, it makes perficio, I finiſh, I do thoroughly, I complete : when added to nouns, it has the ſame effect; difficilis, hard ; perdifficilis, thoroughly, completely hard; jucun- dus, agreeable; perjucundus, thoroughly agreeable... If you attend to theſe obſervations, it will ſave you a great deal of trouble in looking in the Dićtionary. As you are now pretty well maſter of moſt of the rules, what you chiefly want, both in Latin and Greek, is the words, in order to conſtrue authors; and therefore I would adviſe you to write down, and learn by heart, every day, for your own amuſement, befides what you do with Mr. Maittaire, ten words in Greek, Latin, and Engliſh, out of a dićtionary or a vocabulary, which will go a great way in a year's time, confidering the words you know already, and thoſe you will learn be. fides in conſtruing with Mr. Maittaire. Adieu ! -sºº ºmºse- LETTER XVIII. Memory....Attention... Posture in Reading. DE AR BOY, Tueſday. IWISH I had as much reaſon to be ſatisfied with your remembering what you have once learned, as with your learning it; but what fignifies your learning any thing ſoon, if you forget it as ſoon Memory depends upon attention, and your forgetfulneſs proceeds ſingly from a want of attention. For example, I dare ſay, if I told you that ſuch a day next week you ſhould have ſomething that you liked, you would certainly remem- ber the day, and call upon me for it. And why? only becauſe you would attend to it. Now, a Greek or a Latin verſe is as eaſily raiga as a day of the week, if 26 Memory...Attention...Posture in Reading. you would give the ſame attention to it. I now re- member, and can ſtill fººpeat, all that I learnt when I was of your age; but it is becauſe I then attended to it, knowing that a little attention would ſave me the trouble of learning the ſame things over and over again. A man will never do any thing well, that cannot com- mand his attention immediately from one thing to an- other, as occaſion requires. If while he is at his bu- ſineſs he thinks of his diverſions, or if while he is at his diverſions he thinks of his buſineſs, he will ſucceed in neither, but do both very awkwardly. Hoc age, was a maxim among the Romans, which means, Do what you are about, and do that only. A little mind is always hurried by twenty things at once; but a man of ſenſe does but one thing at a time, and reſolves to excel in it; for whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well. Therefore remember to give yourſelf up entirely to the thing you are doing, be it what it will, whether your book or your play; for if you have a right ambi- tion, you will deſire to excel all boys of your age, at *... cricket, at trap-ball, as well as in learning. You have one rival in learning, whom I am ſure you ought to take particular care to excel, and that is your own pic- ture. Remember what is written there, and conſider what a ſhame it would be, if when you are decennis #, you ſhould not have got further than when you were oétennis F. Who would not take pains to avoid ſuch a diſgrace? Another thing I muſt mention to you, which, though not of the ſame conſequence, is, however, worth mind- ing—and that is, the trick you have got of looking cloſe to your book, when you read, which is only a trick, for I am ſure you are not ſhort-fighted. It is ..an ugly.trick, and has a dull look, and, over and above, will ſpoil your eyes; therefore always hold your book ... as far off as you can when you read, and you will ſoon come tosread at a great diſtance. Theſe little things * are not to be negle&ted; for the very beſt things receive forme addition, by a genteel and graceful manner of doing them. Demoſthenes, the famous Graecian ora- * Ten years of age. + Eight years of age. On Ambition...Different Characters it assumes. 27 tor, being aſked which were the three principal parts of an orator, anſwered, Aëtion, ačtion, ačtion;–meaning, that the force and perſuaſion of an orator conſiſted a great deal in his graceful ačtion, and good elocution. Adieu ! -mº Tºm-- LETTER XIX. On Ambition...Different Characters it assumes. DEAR BOY, ISEND you here a few more Latin roots, though I am not ſure that you will like my roots ſo well as thoſe that grow in your garden; however, if you will attend to them, they may ſave you a great deal of trouble- Theſe few will naturally point out many others to your own obſervation, and enable you, by compariſon, to find out moſt derived and compound words, when once you know the original root of them. You are old enough now to make obſervation; upon what you learn; which, if you would be pleaſed to do, you cannot imagine how much time and trouble it would ſave you. Remember, you are now very near nine years old—an age at which all boys ought to know a great deal, but you, particularly, a great deal more, confidering the care and pains that have been employed about you; and, if you do not anſwer thoſe expectations, you will loſe your charaćter, which is the moſt mortifying thing that can happen to a generous mind. Every body has ambition, of ſome kind or other, and is vexed when that ambition is diſappointed: the difference is, that the ambition of ſilly people is a ſilly and miſtaken am- bition, and the ambition of people of ſenſe is a right and commendable one. & For inſtance, the ambition of a ſilly boy, of your age, would be to have fine clothes, and money to throw away in idle follies; which, you plainly ſee, would be no proofs of merit in him, but only of folly in his parents, in dreſſing him out like a jackanapes, and giving him money to play the fool with. Whereas a boy of good ſenſe places his ambi- tion in excelling other º of his own age, and even 2. *# 23 Plagiarism...Pectical Description. older, in virtue and knowledge. His glory is in being known always to ſpeak the truth, in ſhowing good-na- ture and compaſſion, in learning quicker, and apply- ing himſelf more, than other boys. Theſe are real proofs of merit in him, and conſequently proper ob- jećts of ambition; and will acquire him a ſolid reputa- tion in charaćter. This holds true in men, as well as in boys: the ambition of a filly fellow will be to have a fine equipage, a fine houſe, and fine clothes; things which any body, that has as much money, may have as well as he—for they are all to be bought : but the ambition of a man of ſenſe and honour is, to be diſtin- guiſhed by a charaćter and reputation of knowledge, truth, and virtue—things which are not to be bought, and that can only be acquired by a good head and a good heart. Such was the ambition of the Lacedaemo- nians and the Romans, when they made the greateſt figure; and ſuch, I hope, yours will always be. Adieu ! *º Sºma- LETTER XX. Plagiarism...Poetical Description. DEAR Boy, *Thurſday. YOU will ſeldom hear from me without an admoni- tion to think. All you learn, and all you can read, will be of little uſe, if you do not think and reaſon upon it yourſelf. One reads to know other people's thoughts; but if we take them upon truſt, without examining and comparing them with our own; it is really living upon other people's ſcraps, or retailing other people's goods. To knew the thoughts of others is of uſe, becauſe it fuggeſts thoughts to one's-ſelf, and helps one to form a judgment; but to repeat other people's thoughts, with- Jout confidering, whether they are right or wrong, is the talent only of a parrot, or at moſt a player. If night were given you as a ſubjećt to compoſe upon, you would do very well to look what the beſt authors have ſaid upon it, in order to help your own invention; but then you muſt think of it afterwards yourſelf,gºd * sº & ** Plagiarism...Poetical Description. 29 expreſs it in your own manner, or elſe you would be at beſt but a plagiary. A plagiary is a man who ſteals other people's thoughts, and puts them off for his own You would find, for example, the following account of night in Virgil: 'Twas dead of night, when weary bodies cloſe Their eyes in balmy ſleep, and ſoft repoſe: The winds no longer whiſper through the woods, Nor murm'ring tides diſturb the gentle floods. The ſtars in filent order mov’d around, And peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground. \/The flocks and herds, and parti-colour’d fowl, , Which hauntº the woods, and ſwim the weedy pool, Stretch'd on the quiet earth ſecurely lay, Forgetting the paſt labours of the day. Here you ſee the effects of night; that it brings reſt to men, when they are wearied with the labours of the day; that the ſtars move in their regular courſe; that flocks and-birds repoſe themſelves, and enjoy the quiet of the night. This, upon examination, you would find to be all true: but then, upon conſideration too, you would find, that it is not all that is to be ſaid upon night: and many more qualities and effects of night ould occur to you. AS, for inſtance, though night is in general the time of quiet and repoſe, yet it is often the time too for the commiſfion and ſecurity of crimes; ſuch as robberies, murders, and violations; which generally ſeek the advantage of darkneſs as favourable for the eſcapes of the guilty. Night too, though it brings reſt and refreſhment to the innocent and virtu- ous,” brings diſquiet and horror to the guilty. The conſciouſneſs of their crimes torments them, and denies them ſlēp and quiet. You might, from theſe reflex- ions, corrider what would be the proper epithets to give to night; as, for example, if you were to repre- ſent night in its moſt pleaſing ſhape, as procuring quiet and refreſhment from labour and toil, you might call it the friendly night, the ſilent night, the welcome night, the peaceful night ; but if, on the contrary, you were to repreſent it as inviting to the commiſſion of crimes, you would call it the guilty night, the conſci- ous night, the horrid night, with many other epithets C 3 #, 3O Writing Themes recommended...Wärtue. that carry along with them the idea of horror and guilt; for an epithet, to be proper, muſt always be adapted (that is, ſuited) to the circumſtances of the perſon or thing to which it is given. Thus Virgil, who generally gives Aºneas the epithet of pious, becauſe of his piety to the Gods, and his duty to his father, calls him duº AEneas where he repreſents him making love to Dido, as a proper epithet for him in that fituation; becauſe making love becomes a general much better than a man of fingular piety. Lay aſide, for a few minutes, the thoughts of play, and think of this ſeriouſly. Amoto quaeramus ſeria ludo *. - Adieu ! -ºm- LETT BR XXI. Writing Themes recommended...Wirtue. ref AR Boy, Sunday. I SHALL not ſoon leave the ſubjećt of invention and thinking; which I would have you apply to, as much as your age and giddineſs will permit. Uſe will make it every day eaſier to you, and age and obſervation will -improve it. Virtue is a ſubjećt that deſerves your and every man’s attention; and ſuppoſe I were to bid you make ſome verſes, or give me your thoughts in proſe, upon the ſubjećt of virtue, how would you go about it? Why you would firſt conſider what virtue is, and then what are the effeóts and marks of it, both with regard to others and one’s-ſelf. You would find, then, that virtue conſiſts in doing good, and in ſpeaking truth; and that the effe&ts of it are advantageous to all man- kind, and to one’s-ſelf in particular. Virtue makes us pity and relieve the misfortunes of mankind; it makes us promote juſtice and good order in ſociety; and, in general, contributes to whatever tends to the real good of mankind. To ourſelves it gives an inward comfort and ſatisfaction, which nothing elſe can do, and which # Amuſement for once laid afide, let us apply to ſerious buſineſs. ‘. On Good-Breeding. 3 I nothing can rob us of. All other advantages depend upon others, as much as upon ourſelves. Riches, power, and greatneſs, may be taken away from us by the vio- lence and injuſtice of others, or by inevitable acci- dents; but virtue depends only upon ourſelves, and no- body can take it away from us. Sickneſs may deprive us of all the pleaſures of the body; but it cannot de- prive us of virtue, nor of the ſatisfaction which we feel from it. A virtuous man, under all the misfortunes of life, ſtill finds an inward comfort and ſatisfaction, which makes him happier than any wicked man can be, with all the other advantages of life. If a man has acquired great power and riches by falſehood, injuſtice, and op- preſſion, he cannot enjoy them; becauſe his conſcience will torment him, and conſtantly reproach him with the means by which he got them. The ſtings of his conſcience will not even let him ſleep quietly; but he will dream of his crimes; and in the day-time, when alone, and when he has time to think, he will be un- eaſy and melancholy. He is afraid of every thing; for, as he knows mankind muſt hate him, he has reaſon to think they will hurt him, if they can. Whereas, if a virtuous man be ever ſo poor or unfortunate in the world, ſtill his virtue is its own reward, and will comfort him under all afflićtions. The quiet and ſatis- fačtion of his conſcience make him cheerful by day, and ſleep ſound of nights; he can be alone with plea- ſure, and is not afraid of his own thoughts. Beſides - this, he is univerſally eſteemed and reſpected; for even the moſt wicked people themſelves cannot help admir- ing and reſpecting virtue in others. All theſe, and many other advantages, you would aſcribe to virtue, if you were to compoſe upon that ſubjećt. Adieu ! *º ºmes LETTER XXII. On Good-Breeding. --- pe AR BOY, Wedneſday. Y OU behaved yourſelf ſo well at Mr. Boden's, laſt Sunday, that you juſtly deſerve commendation: be- C 32 On Good-Breeding. flies, you encourage me to give you ſome rules of po- liteneſs and good-breeding, being perſuaded that you will obſerve them. Know then, that as learning, ho- nour, and virtue, are abſolutely neceſſary to gain you the eſteem and admiration of mankind, politeneſs and good-breeding are equally neceſſary to make you wel- come and agreeable in converſation and common life. Great talents, ſuch as honour, virtue, learning, and parts, are above the generality of the world, who nei- ther poſſeſs them themſelves, nor judge of them right- ly in others: but all people are judges of the leſſer talents, ſuch as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable addreſs and manner; becauſe they feel the effects of them, as making ſociety eaſy and pleaſing. Good-ſenſe muſt, in many caſes, determine good-breed- ing; becauſe the ſame thing that would be civil at one time, and to one perſon, would be quite otherwiſe at another time, and to another perſon; but there are ſome general rules of good-breeding, that hold always true, and in all caſes. As, for example, it is always extremely rude to anſwer only Yes or No to any body, without adding Sir, My Lord, or Madam, according to the quality of the perſon you ſpeak to. It is likewiſe extremely rude not to give the proper attention, and a civil anſwer, when people ſpeak to you ; or to go ~ away, or be doing ſomething elſe, while they are ſpeaking to you; for that convinces them that you deſpiſe them, and do not think it worth your while to hear or anſwer what they ſay. I dare ſay I need not tell you how rude it is to take the beſt place in a room, or to ſeize immediately upon what you like at table, without offering firſt to help others, as if you confider- ed nobody but yourſelf. On the contrary, you ſhould always endeavour to procure all the conveniences you can to the people you are with. Beſides being civil, which is abſolutely neceſſary, the perfeótion of good- breeding is, to be civil with eaſe, and in a gentleman- like manner. For this, you ſhould obſerve the French people, who excel in it, and whoſe politeneſs ſeems as eaſy and natural as any other part of their converſation: whereas the Engliſh are often awkward in their civili- ties; and when they mean to be civil, are too much $ The lesser Talents...Awkwardness. - 33 aſhamed to get it out. But, pray, do you remember never to be aſhamed of doing what is right: you would have a great deaſ of reaſon to be aſhamed if you were not civil ; but what reaſon can you have to be aſhamed of being civil 8 and why not ſay a civil and an oblig- ing thing as eaſily and as naturally as you would aſk what o'clock it is This kind of baſhfulneſs, which is juſtly called, by the French, mauvaiſe homte ", is the diſ- tinguiſhing charaćter of an Engliſh booby, who is frightened out of his wits when people of faſhion ſpeak to him; and, when he is to anſwer them, bluſhes, itammers, can hardly get out what he would ſay, and becomes really ridiculous, from a groundleſs fear of being laughed at; whereas, a really well-bred man would ſpeak to all the kings in the world, with as little con cern, and as much eaſe, as he would ſpeak to you. Remember then, that to be civil, and to be civil with eaſe (which is properly called good-breeding), is the only way to be beloved, and well-received in com- pany; that to be ill-bred, and rude, is intolerable, and the way to be kicked out of company. As I am ſure you will mind and pračtiſe all this, I expect that when you are novennis, you will not only be the beſt ſcholar, but the beſt-bred boy in England of your age.—Adieu ! *º ºsmº - I.ETTER XXIII. The lesser Talents...Awkwardness... Description of an awkward Person. PEAR Bo Y, Spa, the 25th July. I HAVE often told you in my former letters (and it is moſt certainly true), that the ſtrićteſt and moſt ſcru- ulous honour and virtue can aloné make you eſteem- ed and valued by mankind; that parts and learning can alone make you admired and celebrated by them ; but that the poſſeſſion of leſſer talents was moſt abſo- lutely neceſſary, towards making you liked, beloved, and ſought after in private life. Of theſe leſſer talents, # Falſe ſharne, wº- .." -- C 5 Fº 34 The lesser Talents...Awkwardness. good-breeding is the principal and moſt neceſſary one, not only as it is very important in itſelf; but as it adds great luſtre to the more ſolid advantages both of the heart and the mind. I have often touched upon good- breeding to you before; ſo that this letter ſhall be upon the next neceſſary qualification to it, which is a genteel eaſy manner and carriage, wholly free from thoſe odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardneſſes, which even many very worthy and ſenſible people have in their behaviour. However trifling a genteel manner may ſound, it is of very great conſequence towards pleaſing in private life, eſpecially the women, whom, one time or other, you will think worth pleaſing: and I have known many a man, from his awkwardneſs, give people fuch a diſlike of him at firſt, that all his merit could not get the bet- ter of it afterwards: whereas a genteel manner pre- poſſeſſes people in your favour, bends them towards you, and makes them wiſh to like you. Awkwardneſs can proceed from but two cauſes, either from not hav- ing kept good company, or from not having attended to it. As for your keeping good company, I will take care of that ; do you take care to obſerve their ways and manners, and to form your own upon them. Atten- tion is abſolutely neceſſary for this, as indeed it is for every thing elſe; and a man without attention is not fit to live in the world. When an awkward fellow firſt comes into a room, it is highly probable that his ſword gets between his legs, and throws him down, or makes him ſtumble at leaſt ; when he has recovered this acci- dent, he goes and places himſelf in the very place of the whole room where he ſhould not; there he ſoon lets his hat fall down, and, in taking it up again, throws down his cane; in recovering his cane, his hat falls a ſecond time; ſo that he is a quarter of an hour before he is in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he certain- ly ſcalds i. mouth, and lets . the cup or the ſaucer fall, and ſpills the tea or coffee in his breeches. At p. dinner, hiº, #.º.º. as he has more to do : there he holds his knife, fork, and ſpoon, differently from other people; eats with his knife, to the great danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with his fork; and puts his ſpoon, which has been The lesser Talents...Awkwardness. 35 in his throat twenty times, into the diſhes again. If he is to carve, he can never hit the joint; but in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, ſcatters the ſauce in every body's face. He generally daubs himſelf with foup and greaſe, though his napkin is commonly ſtuck through a button-hole, and tickles his 'chin. When he drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glaſs, and beſprinkles the company. Beſides all this, he has ſtrange tricks and geſtures; ſuch as ſnuffing up his noſe, making faces, putting his fingers in his noſe, or blówing it and look- ing afterwards in his handkerchief, ſo as to make the company fick. His hands are troubleſome to him, . when he has not ſomething in them, and he does not know where to put them, but they are in perpetual motion between his boſom and his breeches: he does not wear his clothes, and, in ſhort, does nothing, like other people. All this, I own, is not in any de- gree criminal; but it is highly diſagreeable and ridi- culous in company, and ought moſt carefully to be avoided, by whoever defires to pleaſe. From this account of what you ſhould not do, you may eaſily judge what you ſhould do ; and a due atten- tion to the manners of people of faſhion, and who have ſeen the world, will make it habitual and familiar to Oll. y There is, likewiſe, an awkwardneſs of expreſfion and words moſt carefully te be avoided; ſuch as falſe Eng- liſh, bad pronunciation, old ſayings, and common pro- verbs; which, are ſo many proofs of having kept bad and low company. For example, if, inſtead of ſaying that taſtes are different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you ſhould let off a proverb, and ſay, That what is one man’s meat is another man's poiſon; or elſe, Every one as they like, as the good man ſaid when he kiſſed his cow; every one would be perſuaded that you had never kept company with any body above footmen and houſe-maids. Attention will do all this; and without attention no- thing is to be done: want of attention, which is really want of thought, is either folly or madneſs. You ſhould not only have attention to every thing, but a quickneſs of attention, ſo as to oº: at once, all, the people. 36 On Pulgarity and Awkwardness. in the room, their motions, their looks, and their words, and yet without ſtaring at them, and ſeeming to be an obſerver. This quick and unobſerved obſer- vation is of infinite advantage in life, and is to be ac- quired with care; and, on the contrary, what is called abſence, which is a thoughtleſſneſs, and want of atten- tion about what is doing, makes a man ſo like either a fool or a madman, that, for my part, I ſee no real dif- ference. A fool never has thought; a madman has loſt it; and an abſent man is, for the time, without it.— Adieu ! wº -º-º- LETTER XXIV. On Vulgarity and Awkwardness. DE AR Boy, Spa, Auguſt the 6th. I AM very well pleaſed with the ſeveral performances you ſent me, and ſtill more with Mr. Maittaire's letter, that accompanied them, in which he gives me a much better account of you than he did in his former. Lau- a'ari a laudato viro *, was always a commendable ambi- tion; encourage that ambition, and continue to deſerve the praiſes of the praiſe-worthy. While you do ſo, you ſhall have whatever you will from me; and when you ceaſe to do ſo, you ſhall have nothing. I am glad you have begun to compoſe a little; it will give you an habit of thinking upon ſubjećts, which is at leaſt as neceſſary as reading them: therefore pray ſend ſend me your thoughts upon this ſubjećt : Non fibi, fed toti genitum ſe’ credere mundo t. It is a part of Cato's charaćter in Lucan ; who ſays, that Cato did not think himſelf born for himſelf only, but for all mankind. Let me know then, whether you think that a man is born only for his own pleaſure and advantage, or whether he is not obliged to contribute to the good of the ſociety in which he lives, and of all mankind in general. This is certain, that every man * To be praiſed by a praiſe-worthy man. + To believe yourſelf born not for yourſelf, but for the world, * \w ** On Pulgarity and Awkwardness. 37 receives advantages from ſociety, which he could not have if he were the only man in the world: therefore, is he not, in ſome meaſure, in debt to ſociety and is he not obliged to do for others what they do for him You may do this in Engliſh or Latin, which you pleaſe; for it is the thinking part, and not the language, that I mind in this caſe. I warned you, in my laſt, againſt thoſe diſagreeable tricks and awkwardneſſes, which many people contraćt when they are young, by the negligence of their parents, and cannot get quit of them when they are old; ſuch as odd motions, ſtrange poſtures, and ungenteel car. riage. But there is likewiſe an awkwardneſs of the mind, that ought to be, and with care may be avoided; as, for inſtance, to miſtake or forget names; to ſpeak of Mr. What-d’ye-call-him, or Mr. Thingum, or How-d'ye-call-her, is exceſſively awkward and vulgar. To call people by improper titles and appellations is ſo too; as, My Lord for Sir, and Sir for My Lord. To begin a ſtory or narration, when you are not perfeót in it, and cannot go through with it, but are forced, poſſi- bly, to ſay in the middle of it “I have forgotten the reſt,” is very unpleaſant and bungling. One muſt be extreme- ly exact, clear, and perſpicuous, in every thing one ſays, otherwiſe, inſtead of entertaining or informing others, one only tires and puzzles them. The voice and manner of ſpeaking, too, are not to be neglećted: .ome people almoſt ſhut their mouths when they ſpeak, and mutter ſo, that they are not to be underſtood; others ſpeak ſo faſt, and ſputter, that they are not to be underſtood neither: ſome always ſpeak as loud as if they were talking to deaf people; and others ſo low, that one cannot hear them. All theſe habits are awk- ward and diſagreeable, and are to be avoided by atten- tion: they are the diſtinguiſhing marks of the ordinary people, who have had no care taken of their education. You cannot imagine how neceſſary it is to mind all theſe : little things; for I have ſeen many people, with great talents, ill received, for want of having theſe talents too; and others well received only from their little talents, and who had no great ones. [ 38 ) LETTER XXV. Short Account of Paris...Oratory...Demosthenes. DEAR box, SINCE my laſt, I have changed conſiderably for the better; from the deſarts of Spa to the pleaſures of Paris; which, when you come here, you will be better able to enjoy than I am. It is a moſt magnificent town, not near ſo big as London, but much finer,-the houſes being much larger, and all built of ſtone. It was not only much enlarged, but embelliſhed, by the magnifi- cence of the laſt king, Lewis XIV; and a prodigious number of expenſive buildings, and uſeful and charitable foundations, ſuch as libraries, hoſpitals, ſchools, &c. will long remain the monuments of the magnificence of that prince. Though the people here are very gay and lively, they have attention to every thing, and al- ways mind what they are about. I hope you do ſo too, now, and that my higheſt expe&tations of your improvement will be more than anſwered, at my re- turn; for I expect to find you conſtrue both Greek and Latin, and likewiſe tranſlate into thoſe languages pretty readily; and alſo make verſes in them both, with ſome little invention of your own. All this may be, if you pleaſe; and I am perſuaded you would not have me diſappointed. As to the genius of poetry, I own, if nature had not given it you, you cannot have it; for it is a true maxim, that Poeta naſcitur, non fit * : but then, that is only as to the invention, and imagination, of a poet; for every body can, by application, make themſelves maſters of the mechanical part of poetry, which conſiſts of the numbers, rhymes, meaſure, and harmony of verſe. Ovid was born with ſuch a genius for poetry, that he ſays, he could not help thinking in verſe, whether he would or not; and that very often he ſpoke verſes without intending it. It is much other- wiſe with oratory; and the maxim there is Orator fit f : for it is certain, that, by ſtudy and application, every * The poet is born, and not-formed by education. + The orator is formed by ſtudy. Account of Marseilles. 39 man can make himſelf a pretty good orator, eloquence depending upon obſervation and care. Every man, if he pleaſes, may chuſe good words inſtead of bad ones, may ſpeak properly inſtead of improperly, may be clear and perſpicuous in his recitals, inſtead of dark and muddy; he may have grace inſtead of awkwardneſs in his motions and geſtures; and, in ſhort, may be a very agreeable, inſtead of a very diſagreeable ſpeaker, if he will take care and pains. And ſurely it is very well worth while to take a great deal of pains, to excel other men in that particular article in which they excel beaſts..." Demoſthenes, the celebrated Greek orator, thought it ſo abſolutely neceſſary to ſpeak well, that though he naturally ſtuttered, and had weak lungs, he reſolved, by application and care, to get the better of thoſe diſadvan- tages. Accordingly, he cured his ſtammering, by putting ſmall pebbles into his mouth; and ſtrengthened his lungs gradually, by uſing himſelf every day to ſpeak aloud and diſtinétly for a conſiderable time. He likewiſe went often to the ſea-ſhore, in ſtormy weather, when the ſea made moſt noiſe, and there ſpoke as loud as he could, in order to uſe himſelf to the noiſe and murmurs of the popular aſſemblies of the Athenians, before whom he was to ſpeak. By ſuch care, joined to the conſtant ſtudy of the beſt authors, he became at laſt the greateſt orator of his own or any other age or country, though . he was born without any one natural talent for it.- Adieu ! Copy Demoſthenes. -*º lººm-a- LETTER XXVI. Account of Marseilles. DEAR Boy, Marſeilles, September the 22d. YOU find this letter dated from Marſeilles, a ſea-port town in the Mediterranean ſea. It has been famous and conſiderable, for theſe two thouſand years at leaſt, upon account of its trade and fituation. It is called Maſhlia in Latin, and diſtinguiſhed itſelf, in favour of the Ro- man liberty, againſt Julius Caeſar. It was here, too, 40 - Account of Marseilles. that Milo was baniſhed, for killing Clodius. You will find the particulars of theſe fačts, if you look in your Dićtionary for the articles Marſeilles and Milo. It is now a very large and fine town, extremely rich from its commerce; it is built in a ſemi-circle round the port, which is always full of merchant ſhips of all na- tions. Here the king of France keeps his gallies, which are very long ſhips rowed by oars, ſome of forty, ſome of fifty, and three-ſcore oars. The people who row them are called galley-ſlaves, and are either pri- ſoners taken from the Turks, on the coaſt of Africa, or criminals, who, for various crimes committed in France, are condemned to row in the gallies, either for life, or for a certain number of years. They are chained by the legs, with great iron chains, two and two together. The proſpect, for two leagues round this place, is the moſt pleafing that can be imagined, conſiſt- ing of high hills, covered with vineyards, olive-trees, fig-trees, and almond-trees, with above ſix thouſand little country houſes interſperſed, which they call here, dés Baſtides. \ * - Within about ten leagues of this place, as you will find in the map, is Toulon, another ſea-port town upon the Mediterranean, not near ſo big as this, but much ſtronger: there moſt of the French men of war are built and kept, and likewiſe moſt of the naval ſtores, fuch as ropes, anchors, ſails, maſts, and whatever be- longs to ſhipping. If you look into your Geographical Dićtionary for Provence, you will find the hiſtory of this country, which is worth your reading; and when you are look- ing in your Dićtionary, look for Dauphiné too, which is the next province to this, and there you will find when Dauphiné was united to the crown of France, upon condition that the king of Fiance's eldeſt ſon ſhould always be called le Dauphin. . You ſhould, in truth, omit no one opportunity of informing yourſelf of modern hiſtory and geography, which are the com- mon ſubječts of all converſation, and conſequently it is a ſhame to be ignorant of them. ... On Modern History...Governments of Europe. 41 Since you have begun compoſition, I ſend you here another ſubjećt to compoſe a few lines upon : Nil conſcire fibi, nullá palleſcere culpá *. Whoever obſerves that rule, will always be very hap- pay. May you do it!—Adieu ! LETTER XXVII. Modern IHistory...Origin of the present Governments of Europe. DEA R. Bo Y, SINCE you are now in modern hiſtory, it is neceſſary you ſhould have a general notion of the origin of all the preſent kingdoms and governments of Europe, which are the objećts of modern hiſtory. The Romans, as you very well know, were maſters of all Europe, as well as of great part of Aſia and Africa, till the third or fourth centuries, that is, about four- teen or fifteen hundred years ago; at which time the 'Goths broke in upon them, beat them, made them- ſelves maſters of all Europe, and founded the ſeveral kingdoms of it. Theſe Goths were originally the inhabitants of the northern part of Europe, called Scandinavia, north of Sweden; part of which is to this day called Gothland, and belongs to Sweden. They were extremely nume- rous, and extremely poor; and finding that their own barren, cold country, was unable to ſupport ſuch great numbers of them, they left it, and went out in ſwarms to ſeek their fortunes in better countries. When they came into the northern parts of Germany, they beat thoſe who oppoſed them, and received thoſe who were willing to join them, as many of thoſe northern people did—ſuch as the Vandals, the Huns, the Franks, who are all comprehended under the general name of Goths. Thoſe who went weſtward were called the Viſigoths; and thoſe who went eaſtward the Oſtrogoths. Thus increaſing in numbers and ſtrength, they entirely ſub- * To have a clear conſcience, and to have no crime to bluſh at. ^, 42 Modern History...Governments of Europe. , verted the Roman empire, and made themſelves ma- fters of all Europe: and hence modern hiſtory be- gins. That part of the Goths, who were called the Franks, ſettled themſelves in Gaul, and called it France; the Angli, another ſet of them, came over here into Britain, ſince which time it is called England. The Goths were a brave but barbarous nation. War was their whole buſineſs, and they had not the leaſt no- tion of arts, ſciences, and learning; on the contrary, they had an averſion to them, and deſtroyed, wherever they went, all books, manuſcripts, pićtures, ſtatues, and all records and monuments of former times; which is the cauſe that we have ſo few of thoſe things now remaining: and at this time, a man that is ignorant of, and deſpiſes arts and ſciences, is proverbially called, a Goth, or a Vandal. The Gothic form of government was a wiſe one; for though they had kings, their kings were little more than generals in time of war, and had very little power in the civil government; and could do nothing with- out the conſent of the principal people, who had regu- lar aſſemblies for that purpoſe; whence our parlia- ments are derived. Europe continued, for many centuries, in the groſſeſt and darkeſt ignorance, under the government of the Goths; till at laſt, in the fifteenth century, that is about three hundred years ago, learning, arts, and ſciences, revived a little, and ſoon afterwards flouriſhed, under Pope Leo X. in Italy, and under Francis I. in France: what ancient Greek and Latin manuſcripts had eſcaped the fury of the Goths and Vandals were then recovered and publiſhed; and painting and ſculpture were carried to their higheſt perfeótion. What contributed the moſt to the improvement of learning, was the invention of printing, which was diſcovered at Haerlem in Holland, in the fifteenth century, in the year 1440, which is juſt three hundred years ago. Adieu ! Look in your Dićtionary for the following articles; Goths, W Vandales, Viſigoths, Alaric. Oſtrogoths, * [ 43 ] LETTER XXVIII. General Description of France. FRANCE, take it all in all, is the fineſt country in Europe; for it is very large, very rich, and very fer- tile : the climate is admirable; and never either too hot, as in Italy and in Spain; nor too cold, as in Swed- en and in Denmark. Towards the north, it is bounded by the Channel; and, towards the ſouth, by the Mediterranean ſea : it is ſeparated from Italy by the Alps, which are high mountains, covered with £now the greateſt part of the year; and divided from Spain by the Pyrenean mountains, which are alſo very high. France is divided into twelve govern- ments or provinces, which are — Picardy, Burgundy, Normandy, Lyonnois, The Iſle of France, Guienne, or Gaſcony, Champagne, Languedoc, Brittany, Dauphiné, Orléannois, Provence. The French are generally very volatile; but it is a brilliant ſort of volatility: they are very brave. The government of France is an abſolute monarchy, or ra- ther deſpotiſm; that is to ſay, the king does whatever he pleaſes, and the people are abſolutely ſlaves. Picardy. Picardy is the moſt northern province of all France. It is an open country, and produces hardly any thing but corn. The capital town is Amiens. Abbeville is another town in that province, confiderable for the manufačtory of woollen cloths eſtabliſhed there. Ca- lais is alſo another good town, and a ſea-port: there we uſually land, in our paſſage from England to France. Normandy. Nº. joins Picardy; its largeſt towns are Rouén and Caén. This province produces vaſt quan- tities of apples, with which they make cyder. As for 44 . General Description of France. wine, there, as well as in Picardy, they make but little; becauſe, being ſo far northward, grapes will not ripen. The Normans are reckoned litigious, and fond of law-ſuits. If they are aſked a queſtion, they never return a direét anſwer; ſo that when a man gives an evaſive anſwer, it is become a proverb to ſay, He an- ſwers like a Norman. .* The Iſle of France. Paris, the capital of the whole kingdom, is in the Iſle of France; its ſituation is upon the Seine; a ſmall, and even a muddy river. It is a large town, but not by a great deal ſo big as London. Champagne. Rheims is the principal town of Champagne. In that town the kings of France are crowned. This province produces the beſt wine in France—Cham- Paign. Brittany. Brittany is divided into high and low. In High Brittany is the town of Nantz, where the beſt brandy is made. Here is alſo St. Malo, a very good ſea-port. In Lower Brittany they ſpeak a kind of language, which has leſs firmilitude to French than it has to Welſh. Orléannois. Orléannois contains ſeveral great and fine towns. Orléans, rendered famous by Joan of Arc, commonly called the Maid of Orléans, who drove the Engliſh out of France; Blois, the ſituation of which is charming, and where the beſt French is ſpoken; Tours, that con- tains a manufactory of thick luteſtring, called gros de Tours. , Burgundy. Dijon is the capital of this province: the wine, called Burgundy, is one of the beſt wines in France. r; Lyonnois. Lyons is the capital; it is a very large fine town, and extremely rich, on account of the manufactures General Description of France. - 45 eſtabliſhed here, of ſilks, and gold and ſilver ſtuffs, with which it ſupplies almoſt all Europe. Your fine filver waiſtcoat comes from thence. Guienne or Gaſcony. There-are many confiderable towns in Guienne, as the town of Bourdeaux, which is very large and rich. Moſt of the wine drank at London, and called in Engliſh claret, comes from thence. It is an excellent place for good eating: you have there ortolans, and red partridge, in great abundance. In this province is the town of Perigueux, where they make delicious paſties of red partridge and trufles: Bayonne, whence come excellent hams. The Gaſcons are the moſt’ lively people in France, but rather inclined to lying and boaſting, particularly upon the articles of ſenſe and courage : ſo that it is ſaid of a man who boaſts, and is preſumptuous, he is a Gaſcon. Languedoc. Languedoc is the moſt ſouthern province of France; and conſequently the warmeſt. It contains a great number of fine towns; among others, Narbonne, fa- mous for its excellent honey; and Nimes, celebrated on account of the ancient Roman amphitheatre, which is ſtill to be ſeen. In this province is alſo ſituated the town of Montpellier, the air of which is ſo pure, and the climate ſo fine, that ſick people, even from Eng- land, are often ſent thither for the recovery of their health. --- Dauphiné. Grenoble is the capital town. The king of France's eldeſt ſon, who is always called Dauphin, takes his , title from this province. *. r’ Provence. Provence is a very fine province, and extremely fer- tile. It produces the beſt oil, with which it ſupplies other countries. The fields are full of orange, lemon, and olive trees. The capital is called Aix. In this province is, likewiſe, the town of Marſeilles, a large 46 General Description of Germany. and fine city, and celebrated ſea-port, ſituated upon the Mediterranean : here the king of France's galleys are kept. Galleys are large ſhips with oars; and thoſe who row, people condemned to it, as a puniſhment for ſome crime. --ºm- -LETTER XXIX. General Description of Germany. GERMANY is a country of vaſt extent: the ſouthern parts are not unpleaſant; the northern exceedingly bad and deſart. It is divided into ten diſtrićts, which are called the ten circles of the empire. The emperor is head, but not maſter of the empire; for he can do but little without the conſent of the eleētors, princes, and imperial free towns; which, all together, form what is called the diet of the empire, that aſſembles in the town of Ratiſbon. There are nine eleētors; which are, ſ Mentz, Triers, Cologne, Bohemia, The Ele&tor of « Bavaria, Saxony, Brandenburg, Palatine, U Hanover. Theſe nine elečt the emperor; for the empire is not hereditary: that is to ſay, the ſon does not ſucceed his father; but, when an emperor dies, thoſe nine eleētors aſſemble, and chuſe another. The eleētors are ſove- reign princes: thoſe of Mentz, Triers, and Cologne, are eccleſiaſtics, being archbiſhops. The eleētor of Bohemia is king of Bohemia, and his capital town Prague. The eleētor of Bavaria's capital is Munich. The eleētor of Saxony is the moſt conſiderable of all the eleētors, and his elećtorate the fineſt: Dreſden is the capital, and a beautiful town. The eleētor of Brandenburg is alſo king of Pruſſia, and maſter of a Queen of Hungary...Contests in Germany. 47 great extent of country : the capital town of Branden- burg is Berlin. The two moſt conſiderable towns be- longing to the elector Palatine, are Manheim and Duſ- ſeldorp. The eleētor of Hanover is alſo king of Eng- land; the capital town of that elečtorate is Hanover, a miſerable capital of a miſerable country “. Beſides the eleētors, there are other ſovereign princes, and powerful ones, as the landgrave of Heſſe Caffel, the duke of Wirtemberg, &c. [The reſt of this geographical deſcription of Germany, and the beginning of that of Aſia, are unfortunately loſt.] -mºº ºm- IETTER XXX. Queen of Hungary...Origin of the late Contests in Ger- many. DEAR 2 OY, I ALWAYS write to you with pleaſure, when I can write to you with kindneſs; and with pain, when I am obliged to chide. You ſhould, therefore, for my ſake as well as your own, apply and behave yourſelf in ſuch a manner, that I might always receive good accounts of you. The laſt I had from Mr. Maittaire was ſo good a one, that you and I are at preſent extremely well together; and I depend upon your taking care that we ſhall continue ſo. I am ſure you now hear a great deal of talk about the queen of Hungary, and the wars which ſhe is and will be engaged in ; it is therefore right that you ſhould know a little of that matter. The laſt emperor, Charles the Sixth, who was father to this queen of Hungary, was the laſt male of the houſe of Auſtria; and fearing that, as he had no ſons, his dominions might at his death be divided between his daughters, and conſe- quently weakened, he ſettled them all upon his eldeſt daughter, the queen of Hungary, by a public ačt, which is called the pragmatic ſančtion: ſo that at the * His lordſhip is miſtaken with regard to the country of Han- over; which is tolerably good, rather pleaſant, and not unfruitful. 48 Queen of Hungary...Contests in Germany. death of the emperor ſhe ſucceeded to Auſtria, Bohe- mia, Sileſia, Hungary, Tranſilvania, Stiria, Carinthia, and the Tirol, in Germany; to all Flanders; and to Parma, Placentia, Milan, and Mantua, in Italy, be- ſides Tuſcany, which is her huſband’s. : The houſe of Auſtria is deſcended from Rodolph count of Hapſbourg, who, about ſeven hundred years ago, acquired the dutchy of Auſtria. His deſcendents, partly by con- queſt, and partly by advantageous marriages, increaſed their dominions ſo conſiderably, that Charles the Fifth, who was emperor about two hundred years ago, was at once in poſſeſſion of the empire, Spain, the Weſt In- dies, almoſt all Italy, and the Seventeen Provinces, which before that time compoſed the dutchy of Bur- gundy. When he grew old, he grew weary of govern- ment, retired into a monaſtery in Spain, and divided his dominions between his ſon Philip the Second, king of Spain, and his brother Ferdinand, who was elečted emperor in his room. To his ſon Philip he gave Spain and the Weſt Indies, Italy, and the Seventeen Provinces. To his brother, all he had in Germany. From that time to this, the emperors have conſtantly been eleēted out of the Houſe of Auſtria, as the beſt able to defend and ſupport the dignity of the empire. The duke of Tuſcany, who, by his wife the queen of Hungary, is now in poſſeſſion of many of thoſe do- minions, wants to be choſen emperor : but France, that was always jealous of the power of the Houſe of Auſtria, ſupports the eleētor of Bavaria, and wants to have him get ſome of thoſe dominions from the queen of Hungary, and be choſen emperor: for which pur- poſe they have now ſent an army into Bavaria to lis aſſiſtance. This ſhort account may enable you to talk the politics now in faſhion; and if you have a mind to be more particularly informed about the Houſe of Auſtria, look in your Hiſtorical Dićtionary for Rodolphe de Hapſbourg, Autriche, and Charlequint. As Charles the Fifth inherited Spain by his mother, and the Seven- teen Provinces by his grandmother, who, being only daughter of the laſt duke of Burgundy, brought them in marriage to his grandfather, the emperor Maximilian ; Account of the Pope. - 49 the following diſtich was made upon the good fortune of the Houſe of Auſtria in their marriages: , --- Bella gerant alii: tu, felix Auſtria, nube; Nam quae Mars aliis, dat tibi regna Venus *. And ſo good night to you, my young politician. LETTER XXXI. Account of the Pope. My DEAF child, - AS, in one deſcription, which I ſent you, I have mentioned the pope, I believe you will wiſh to know who that perſon is. The pope, then, is an old cheat, who calls himſelf the vicar of Jeſus Chriſt; that is to ſay, the perſon who repreſents Jeſus Chriſt upon earth, and has the power of ſaving people, or of danming them. By virtue of this pretended power he grants in- dulgences; that is to ſay, pardons for fins: or elſe he thunders out excommunications; this means ſending people to the devil. The cathplics, otherwiſe called. papiſts, are filly enough to believe this. Beſides which, they believe the pope to be infallible; that is, that he never can miſtake; that whatever he ſays is true, and whatever he does is right. Another abſurdity : the pope pretends to be the greateſt prince in Chriſtendom; and takes place of all kings. The proteſtant kings, however, do not allow this. The pope creates the cardinals, who are ſeventy- two in number, and higher if rank than biſhops and archbiſhops. The title given to the Gardinal is, Your Eminence; and to the pope, Your Holineſs. When a pope dies, the cardinals aſſemble to eleēt another, and that aſſembly is called a conclave. Whenever a per- fon is preſented to the pope, they kiſs his foot, and not. his hand, as we do to other princes. Laws, made by the pope, are called bulls. The palace he inhabits, at Rome, is called the Vatican ; and contains the fineſt library in the world. - . . . *Let others wage war, but thou, fortunate Auſtria, -form tender alliances; For the kingdoms which Mars gives to others, Venus beſtows on you, * *, * gy :53 . . General Piew of English History. - 3. - The pope is, in reality, nothing more than biſhop of Rome; but, on the one fide, weakneſs and ſuper- ftition, and ori the other the artifice and ambition of the clergy, have made him what he is; that is to ſay, a confiderable prince, and head of the catholic church. ... We proteſtants are not weak enough to give into all this nonſenſe. We believe, and with reaſon, that God alone is infallible; and that he only can make people happy or miſerable: • * Adieu ! I)ivert yourſelf and be merry, there is no- thing like it. , ' ' ' ' *º Tºm-- ‘LETTER xxxii. General Piew of English History. ENGLAND was originally called Britain, when the Romans, under Julius Caeſar, firſt invaded it: the Ro- mans continued in Britain about four hundred years. The Romans quitted Britain of themſelves; and then the Scotch, who went by the name of Pićts (from pingere, to paint), becauſe they painted their ſkins, at- tacked the Britains, and beat them ; upon which the Britains called over the Angli, a people of Saxony, to their aſſiſtance againſt the Pićts. The Angli came and beat the Pićts; but then beat the Britains too, and made themſelves maſters of the kingdom, which, from their own name, they called Anglia, whence it was called England. - * . ..Theſe Saxons divided England into ſeven kingdoms; which were called the Saxon Heptarchy, from #TTa, ſeven, and 2pxwy, chief. . . . Afterwards the Danes invaded England, and made themſelves maſters of it; but were ſoon driven out again, and the Saxon government reſtored. , The laſt invaſion of England was by the Normans, under William the Conqueror, in 1966; that is, about feven hurſdred years ago. * - Though William came in by conqueſt, he did not pretend to , govern abſolutely, as a conqueror, but thought it his ſafeſt way to conform himſelf to the con- ftitution of this country. He was a great man. . General View of English History, #1 . His ſon, William Rufus, ſo called becauſe he had red hair, ſucceeded him. He was killed accidentally by one of his own people as he was hunting. He died without children, and was ſucceeded by his younger brother, Henry the Firſt. - - Henry the Firſt was a great king. As he had no ſons, he was ſucceeded by his nephew Stephen. Stephen was attacked by the empreſs Maud, who was daughter to Henry the Firſt, and had conſequently a better right to the crown than Stephen. He agreed to a treaty with her, by which ſhe let him reign for his life; and he obliged himſelf to ſettle the crown after his death upon her ſon, Henry the Second, who in effect ſucceeded him." ... * * . . . Henry the Second was a very great king; he con- quered Ireland, and annexed it to the crown of Eng- land. He was ſucceeded by his ſon, Richard the Firſt. Richard the Firſt was remarkable by nothing but by his playing the fool in a croiſado to Jeruſalem, a prevailing folly of thoſe times, when the Chriſtians thought to merit heaven by taking Jeruſalem from the Turks. He was ſucceeded by John. King John was oppreſſive and tyrannical; ſo that the people roſe againſt him, and obliged him to give them a charter, eonfirming all their liberties and pri- vileges; which charter ſubfiſts to this day, and is called Magna Charta. He was ſucceeded by his ſon, Henry the Third. • Henry the Third had a long but troubleſome reign, being in perpetual diffutes with the people and the nobles; ſometimes beating, ſometimes beaten. He was ſucceeded by his ſon, Edward the Firſt. , Edward the Firſt was one of the greateſt kings of England. He conquered the principality of ºl. and annexed it to the crown of England; ſince which time the eldeſt ſon of the king of England has always been prince of Wales. He beat the Scotch ſeveral times. Many of our beſt laws were made in his reign. His ſon, Edward the Second, ſucceeded him. Edward the Second was a wretched, weak creature, and ālways governed by favourites; ſo that he was de- * º - D 2, - *- .. * *- W.- 52 General View of English History. poſed, put into priſon, and ſoon afterwards put to death. - . . . His ſon, Edward the Third, ſucceeded him, and was one of the greateſt kings England ever had. He de- clared war againſt France; and with an army of thirty thouſand men beat the French army of fixty thouſand men, at the famous battle of Crecy, in Picardy, where above thirty thouſand French were killed. His ſon, who was called the Black Prince, beat the French again at the battle of Poićtiers, and took the king of France priſoner. The French had above threeſcore thouſand men; and the Black Prince had but eight thouſand. . This king founded the order of the garter. His ſon, the Black Prince, died before him, ſo that he was ſue- ceeded by his grandſon, Richard the Second, fon to the Black Prince. - This Richard the Second had none of the virtues of his father, or grandfather, but was governed by fa- vourites; was proflife, neceſſitous, and endeavoured to make himſelf abſolute; ſo that he was depoſed, put into priſon, and ſoon after put to death by Henry the Fourth, who ſucceeded him, and who was the firſt of the houſe of Lancaſter. Henry the Fourth was deſcended from Edward the Third, by John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaſter, and had conſequently no hereditary right to the crown. He beat both the Scotch and Welſh. He was a confider- able man. - º:* Henry the Fifth, his ſon, ſucceeded him, and was, without diſpute, one of the greateſt kings of England ; though he promiſed little while he was prince of Wales, for he led a diſſolute and riotous life, even robbing ſometimes upon the highway. But, as ſoon as he came to the throne, he left thoſe ſhameful courſes, declared war againſt France, and entirely routed the French army, fix times more numerous than his own, at the famous battle of Agincourt, in Picardy. He died before he had completed the conqueſt of France; and was ſucceeded by his ſon, Henry the Sixth, a minor, who was left under the guardianſhip of his uncles, the Dukes of Bedford and Glouceſter. General Piew of English History. 53 - Henry the Sixth was ſo little like his father, that he foon loſt all that his father had got ; and, though crowned king of France, at Paris, was driven out of France; and, of all his father's conqueſts, retained only Calais. . It was a remarkable accident that gave the firſt turn to the ſucceſſes of the Engliſh, in France. They were beſieging the town of Orléans, when an ordinary girl, called Joanne d'Arques, took it into her head that God had appointed her to drive the Engliſh out of France. Accordingly ſhe attacked, at the head of the French troops, and entirely beat the Engliſh. The French call her, La pucelle d’Orléans #. She was afterwards taken by the Engliſh, and ſhamefully burnt for a witch. Henry had not better ſucceſs in England; for, being a weak man himſelf, and entirely governed by his wife, he was depoſed by Edward the Fourth, of the houſe of York, who had the hereditary right to the (CrOW 11, ! Edward the Fourth did nothing confiderable, except againſt the Scotch, whom he beat. He intended to have attempted the recovery of France, but was pre- vented by his death. He left two ſons under age; the eldeſt of which was proclaimed king, by the name of Edward the Fifth. But the duke of Glouceſter, their uncle and guardian, murdered them both, to make way for himſelf to the throne. He was Richard the Third, commonly called crook-bäck Richard, becauſe he was crooked. -- - - Richard the Third was ſo cruel and ſanguinary, that he ſoon became univerſally hated. Henry the Seventh, of the houſe of Lancaſter, profited of the general hatred of the people to Richard, raiſed an army, and beat Richard at the battle of Boſworth-field, in Leiceſter- ſhire, where Richard was killed. . Henry the Seventh was proclaimed king, and ſoon after married the daughter of Edward the Fourth ; re- uniting thereby the pretenſions of both the houſes of York and Lancaſter; or, as they were then called, the white roſe and the red : the white roſe being the arms of the houſe of York; and the red roſe the arms of # The maid of Orléans, * D 3 { * 5% General Piew of English History. the houſe of Lancaſter. Henry the Seventh was a ſuſ. len, cunning, and covetous king, oppreſfing his ſub- jećts to ſqueeze money out of them; and accordingly died unlamented, and immenſely rich. Henry the Eighth ſucceeded his father. His reign deſerves your attention, being full of remarkable events, particularly that of the Reformation. He was as profuſe as his father was avaricious, and ſoon ſpent in idle ſhow and pleaſures the great ſums his father left him. . He was violent and impetuous in all his paſſions, in ſatisfying which he ſtopped at no- thing. He had married, in his father's life-time, Ca- tharine, princeſs of Spain, the widow of his elder bro- ther prince Arthur; but growing weary of her, and being in love with Anne Boleyn, he was reſolved to be divorced from his wife, in order to marry Anne. The pope would not conſent to this divorce; at which Henry was ſo incenſed, that he threw off the pope's authority in England, declared himſelf head of the church, and divorced himſelf. You muſt know, that in thoſe days of popery and ignorance, the pope pretended to be above all kings, and to depoſe them when he thought proper. He was univerſal head of the church, and diſpoſed of biſhoprics and eccleſiaſtical matters in -every country in Europe. To which unreaſonable pre- tenſions all princes had been fools enough, more or leſs, to ſubmit. But Henry put an end to thoſe pretenſions i." England; and reſolved to retain no part of popery that was inconſiſtent either with his paſſions or his in- tereſt; in conſequence of which, he diffolved the mo- naſieries and religious houſes in England, took away their eſtate-, kept ſome for himſelf, and diſtributed the reſt among the conſiderable people of this country. This was the beginning of the Reformation in England, and happened about two hundred years ago. . As it is neceſſary you ſhould know what the Reformation is, I muſt tell you, that a little more than two hundred years ago, all Europe were papiſts, till one Martin Luther, a German Auguſtine Monk, began in Germany to re- form religion from the errors, abſurdities, and ſuper- ſtitions of popery. Many German princes, particularly the eleētor of Saxony, embraced his doćtrine, and pro- ** General Piew of English History. 55 teſted againſt the church of Rome; whence they were called proteſtants. Read the article Luther in your Dićtionary. - - 1. • * - To return to Henry the Eighth ; he married ſix wives, one after another, two of whom he beheaded for adultery, and put away two becauſe he did not like them. He was for ſome time governed abſolutely by his firſt miniſter, cardinal Wolſey, who was at laſt. diſgraced, and broke his heart. He was ſucceeded by his ſon, Edward the Sixth, who was but nine years old; but his guardians being proteſtants, the Reformation was eſtabliſhed in England. He died at fifteen years old, and was ſucceeded by his half ſiſter, Mary. ' ' Queen Mary was the daughter of Henry the Eighth, by his firſt wife, Catharine of Spain. She was a zeal- ous and cruel papiſt, in priſoned and burnt the pro- teſtants, and did all ſhe could to root out the Reforma- tion in England; but did not reign long enough to do it. She was married to Philip the Second of Spain; but having no children, was ſucceeded by her ſiſter, queen Elizabeth. - * The reign of queen Elizabeth is, without diſpute, the moſt glorious in the Engliſh hiſtory,7She eſta- bliſhed the Reformation, encouraged trade and Sqanu- fačtures, and carried the nation to a pitch of happineſs and glory it had never ſeen before, and has never ſeen ſince. She defeated the fleet which Philip the Second of Spain ſent to invade England, and which he called the Invincible Armada. She aſſiſted the Dutch, wh9. had revolted from the tyranny of the ſame king's go- vernment, and contributed to the eſtabliſhment of the republic of the United Provinces. She was the ſupport of the proteſtant cauſe in Europe. In her reign we made our firſt ſettlement in America, which was Vir- ginia, ſo called from her, becauſe ſhe was a virgin, and never married. She beheaded her couſin, Mary queen of Scotland, who was continually forming plots to dethrone her and uſurp the kingdom. She reigned four-and-forty years, with glory to herſelf, and advan- tage to her kingdom.) Lord Burleigh was her wiſe and honeſt miniſter during almoſt her whole reign. As ſhe . . . . D 4. w g §§ General Piew of English History. died without children, ſhe was ſucceeded by her neareſt relation, king James the Firſt, the ſon of Mary queen of Scots, who was beheaded. With king James the Firſt the family of the Stuarts came to the throne, and ſupplied England ſucceſſively with four very bad kings. King James had no one of the virtues of his predeceſſor queen Elizabeth, but had all the faults and vices that a man, or even a king, can have. He was a moſt notorious coward and liar, a formal pedant, thinking and calling himſelf wiſe, without being ſo in any degree; wanting always to make himſelf abſolute, without either parts or courage to compaſs it. He was the bubble of his favourites, whom he enriched, and always in neceſſity himſelf. His reign was inglorious and ſhameful, and laid the foun- dation of all the miſchief that happened under the reign of his ſon and ſucceſſops king Charles the Firſt. Obſerve, that till king James the Firſt, Scotland had its own kings, and was independent of England; but he being king of Scotland when queen Elizabeth died, º and Scotland have from that time been united under the ſame kings. King Charles the Firſt ſucceeded his father, king james the Firſt; and, though he was nothing very ex- traordinary, was ſtill much better than his father, hav- ing both more ſenſe and more courage. He married a princeſs of France, daughter to Henry the Great, who, being a zealous papiſt, and a buſy, meddling woman, had an influence over him, which contributed much io his misfortunes. He had learned from his father to fancy that he had a right to be abſolute; and had the courage, that his father wanted, to try for it. This made him quarrel with parliaments, and attempt to raiſe money without them, which no king has a right to do: but there was then ſpirit and virtue enough in the nation to oppoſe it. He would likewiſe, by the advice of a hot-headed prieſt (archbiſhop Laud), eſta- bliſh the Common Prayer through the whole kingdom by force, to which the preſbyterians would not ſubmit. Theſe, and many other violences, raiſed a civil war in the nation, in which he was beaten, and taken priſoner. A high court of juſtice was erected on purpoſe for his General Piew of English History. 57 trial, where he was tried and condemned for high trea-- fon againſt the conſtitution; and was beheaded pub- licly, about one hundred years ago, at Whitehall, on the 30th of January. This ačtion is much blamed ; but, however, if it had not happened, we had had no liberties left. * After Charles's death, the parliament governed for a time; but the armv ſoon took the power out of their hands; and then Oliver Cromwell, a private gentle- man of Huntingdonſhire, and a colonel in that army, uſurped the government, and called himſelf the pro- tečtor. He was a very brave, and a very able man, and carried the honour of England to the higheſt pitch of glory; making himſelf both feared and reſpećted by all the powers in Europe. He got us the iſland of Jamaica from the Spaniards; and Dunkirk, which Charles, the Second ſhamefully ſold afterwardsº the French. He died in about ten years after he had uſurped the govern- ment, which he left to his ſon Richard, who, being a blockhead, could not keep it; ſo that king Charles the Second was reſtored, by the means of general Monk, who was then at the head of the army. King Charles the Second, who, during the life of Cromwell, had been wandering about from one coun- try to another, inſtead of profiting by his adverſities, had only colle&ted the vices of all the countries he had been in. .He had no religion, or, if any, was a papiſt; and his bröther, the duke of York, was a declared one. He gave all he bad to whores and favourites; and was fo neceſſitous, that he became a penſioner to France. He lived uneaſily with his people and his parliament; and was at laſt poiſoned. As he died without children, he was ſucceeded by his brother, the duke of York, then King James the Second, who was of a four, cruel, and tyrannical diſpoſition, and a zealous papiſt : he reſolved at once to be above the laws, make himſelf abſolute, and eſtabliſh popery; upon which the nation, very wiſely and juſtly, turned him out, before he had reigned quite four years; and called the prince of *Orange from Holland, who had married king James's eldeſt daughter, Mary. D; * *s 58 Exhortation to good Behaviour in Company. . . The prince and princeſs of Orange were then de- clared, by parliament, king and queen of England, by the title of king William the Third and queen Mary; and this is called the Revolution. Queen Mary was an excellent princeſs; but ſhe died ſeven years before king William, without children. King William was a brave and warlike king: he would have been glad of more power than he ought to have ; but his parliaments kept him within due bounds, againſt his will. To this revolution we again owe our liberties. King William, dying without children, was ſucceeded by queen Anne, the ſecond daughter of king James the Second. The reign of queen Anne was a glorious one, by the ſucceſs of her arms againſt France, under the duke of Nîarlborough. Asaſhe died without children, the fa- imily of the Stuart&ºaded in her; and the crown went to the houſe of Hanover, as the next proteſtant family: ſo that ſhe was ſucceeded by king George the Firſt, fa- ther of the preſent king. - mºm- , LETTER XXXIII. Exhortation to Good-Behaviour in Company. *~, SIR, Saturday. THE fame of your erudition, and other ſhining qua- Tifications, having reached to lord Orrery, he deſired me that you might dine with him, and his ſon, lord Boyle, next Sunday; which I told him you ſhould. By this time, I ſuppoſe, you have heard from him; but, if you have not, you muſt, however, go there between two and three to-morrow, and ſay, that you come to wait upon lord Boyle, according to his lordſhip’s or- ders, of which I informed you. As this will deprive me of the honour and pleaſure of your company at din- her to-morrow, I will hope for it at breakfaſt, and ſhall take care to have your chocolate ready. *- Though I need not tell one of your age, experience, and knowledge of the world, how neceſſary good-breed- ing is, to recommend one to mankind; yet; as your Good-Breeding...Marks of Respect. 59' warious occupations of Greek and cricket, Latin and pitch-farthing, may poſſibly divert your attention from this objećt, I take the liberty of reminding you of it, and de firing you to be very well-bred at lord Orrery's. it is good-breeding alone that can prepoſſeſs people in your favour at firſt ſight; more time being neceſſary to diſcover greater talents. This good-breeding, you know, does not confiſt in low bows and formal ceremony; but in an eaſy, civil, and reſpectful behaviour. You. will therefore take care to anſwer with complaiſance, when you are ſpoken to; to place yourſelf at the lower end of the table, unleſs bid to go higher; to drink firſt to . the lady of the houſe, and next to the maſter; not to- eat a W fººd; or dirtily; not to fit when others ſtand : and to do all this with an air of complaiſance, and not with a grave, four look, as if you did it all unwillingly. I do not mean a filly, inſipid ſmile, that fools have when they would be civil; but an air of ſenſible good. humour. I hardly know any thing ſo difficult to attain, or ſo neceſſary to poſſeſs, as perfeót good-breeding; which is equally inconſiſtent with a ſtiff formality, an: impertinent forwardneſs, and an awkward baſhfulneſs. A little ceremony is often neceſſary ; a certain degree of firmneſs is abſolutely ſo ; and an qutward modeſty is extremely becoming: the knowledge of the world, and your own obſervations, muſt, and alone can, tell. you the proper quantities of each.-Adieu ! Ö -º-º: LETTER XXXIV. 600d-Breeding...Marks of Respect...Civility to the Females 4. r Sea. DE AR Bo Y, Tueſday. GOOD-BREEDING is ſo important an article in life,. and ſo abſolutely neceſſary for you, if you would pleaſe, and be well received in the world, that'ſ muſt give you another lećture upon it, and poſſibly this-will not be the laſt neither. * : . I only mentioned, in my laſt, the general rules of common civility, which, whoever does not obſerve, will. * GO Marks of Respect...Civility to Females. ‘paſs for a bear, and be as unwelcome as one in com- pany; and there is hardly any body brutal enough not to anſwer when they are ſpoken to, or not to ſay, Sir, My £ord, or Madam, according to the rank of the people they ſpeak to. But it is not enough not to be rude; you ſhould be extremely civil, and diſtinguiſhed for your º The firſt principle of this good- breeding is, never to ſay any thing that you think can ibe diſagreeable to any body in company; but, on the * Great Power of France...JPeakness in Allied Powers, 121 author, but analyſe them yourſelf, and judge whether they are true or not. - But, to return to the politics of France, from which I have digreſſed; you have certainly made one farther refle&tion of an advantage which France has, over and above its abilities in the cabinet, and the ſkill of its ne- gociators; which is (if I may uſe the expreſſion) its ſoleneſs, continuity of riches and power within itſelf, and the nature of its government. Near twenty mil- lions of people, and the ordinary revenue of above thirteen millions ſterling a year, are at the abſolute diſ- poſal of the crown. This is what no other power in Europe can ſay ; ſo that different powers muſt now unite to make a balance againſt France ; which union, though formed upon the principle of their common intereſt, can never be ſo intimate as to compoſe a ma- chine ſo compaćt and fimple as that of one great king- dom, direéted by one will, and moved by one intereſt. The allied powers (as we have conſtantly ſeen) have, beſides the common and declared objećt of their al- liance, ſome ſeparate and concealed view, to which they often ſacrifice the general one ; which makes them, either direétly or indireétly, pull different ways. Thus, the deſign upon Toulon failed, in the year 17c6, only from the ſecret view of the houſe of Auſtria upon’ Naples; which made the court of Vienna, notwith- ſtanding the repreſentations of the other allies to the contrary, ſend to Naples the 12,000 men that would have done the buſineſs at Toulon. In this laſt war, too, the ſame cauſes had the ſame effects: the queen of Hungary, in ſecret, thought of nothing but recovering Sileſia, and what ſhe had loſt in Italy; and therefore never ſent half that quota, which ſhe promiſed, and we paid for, into Flanders; but left that country to the maritime powers to defend as they could. The king of Sardinia's real objećt was Savona, and all the Riviera di Ponente; for which reaſon he concurred ſo lamely in the invaſion of Provence; whither the queen of Hun. gary, likewiſe, did not ſend one third of the force ſtipu. lated; engroſſed as ſhe was, by her oblique views upon the plunder of Genoa, and the recovery of Naples. Inſomuch that the expedition into Provence, which G. 122 Causes of Weakness in Allied Powers. would have diſtreſſed France to the greateſt degree, and have cauſed a great detachment from their army in Flanders, failed ſhamefully, for want of every thing neceſſary for its ſucceſs. Suppoſe, therefore, any four or five powers, who, altogether, ſhall be equal, or even a little ſuperior, in riches and ſtrength, to that one ower againſt which they are united, the advantage will ſtill be greatly on the ſide of that ſingle power; becauſe it is but one. The power and riches of Charles V. were, in themſelves, certainly ſuperior to thoſe of Francis I. ; and yet, upon the whole, he was not an overmatch for him. Charles the Fifth's domi- nions, great as they were, were ſcattered and remote from each other; their conſtitutions different ; and wherever he did not reſide, diſturbances aroſe: whereas the compaćtneſs of France made up the difference in the ſtrength. This obvious refle&tion convinced me of the abſurdity of the treaty of Hanover, in 1725, between France and England, to which the Dutch aft- erwards acceded; for it was made upon the appre- henſions, either real or pretended, that the marriage of Don Carlos with the eldeſt archducheſs, now queen of Hungary, was ſettled in the treaty of Vienna, of the fame year, between Spain and the late emperor, Charles VI. ; which marriage, thoſe conſummate po- liticians ſaid, would revive in Europe the exorbitant power of Charles V. I am ſure, I heartily wiſh it had; as, in that caſe, there would have been, what there certainly is not now—one power in Europe to counter- balance that of France; and then the maritime powers would, in reality, have held the balance of Europe in their hands. Even ſuppoſing that the Auſtrian power would then have been an overmatch for that of France, which (by the way) is not clear, the weight of the ma- ritime powers, then thrown into the ſcale of Europe, would infallibly have made the balance at leaſt even. In which caſe, too, the moderate efforts of the maritime powers, on the fide of France, would have been ſuffi- cient ; whereas, now, they are obliged to exhauſt and beggar themſelves, and that too ineffectually, in hopes to ſupport the ſhattered, beggared, and inſufficient houſe of Auſtria. I 128 J LETTER LXI. Cardinal de Retz...Popular Meetings...Traits of Heroism... Secrets. DeAR Bo Y, - London, September the 13th. I HAVE more than once recommended to you the Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz, and to attend parti- cularly to the political refleótions interſperſed in that excellent work. I will now preach a little upon two or three of thoſe texts. - In the diſturbances at Paris, monſieur de Beaufort, who was a very popular, though a very weak man, was the cardinal’s tool with the populace. Proud of his popularity, he was always for aſſembling the people of Paris together, thinking that he made a great figure at the head of them. The cardinal, who was factious enough, was wiſe enough, at the ſame time, to avoid gathering the people together, except when there was occaſion, and when he had ſomething particular for them to do. However, he could not always check monſieur de Beaufort; who having aſſembled them once very unneceſſarily, and without any determined objećt, they ran riot, would not be kept within bounds by their leaders, and did their cauſe a great deal of harm; upon which the cardinal obſerves, moſt judici- ouſly, Que monſteur de Beaufort me ſº avoit pas, que qui aſſemble le peuple l'émieut *. It is certain, that great numbers of people met together, animate each other, and will do ſomething, either good or bad, but oftener bad : and the reſpective individuals, who were ſepa- rately very quiet, when met together in numbers, grow tumultuous as a body, and ripe for any miſchief that may be pointed out to them by the leaders; and, if their leaders have no buſineſs for them, they will find ſome for themſelves. The demagogues, or leaders of popular fačtions, ſhould therefore be very careful not to aſſemble the people unneceſſarily, and without a ſettled and well-conſidered objećt. Befides that, by making thoſe popular aſſemblies too frequent, they * M. de Beaufort did not know, that whoever aſſembles the people excites them to inſurrection. . G 2 #24 Popular Meetings...Traits of Heroism, &c. make them likewiſe too familiar, and conſequently leſs reſpected by their enemies. Obſerve any meetings of people, and you will always find their eagerneſs and impetuoſity riſe or fall in proportion to their numbers: when the numbers are very great, all ſenſe and reaſon ſeem to ſubfide, and one ſudden phrenzy to ſeize on all, even the cooleſt of them. Another very juſt obſervation of the cardinal's, is, That the things which happen in our own times, and which we ſee ourſelves, do not ſurpriſe us near ſo much as the things which we read of in times paſt, though not in the leaſt more extraordinary; and adds, that he is perſuaded, that, when Caligula made his horſe a conſul, the people of Rome, at that time, were not greatly ſurpriſed at it, having neceſſarily been in ſome degree prepared for it, by an inſenſible gradation of extravagances from the ſame quarter. This is ſo true, that we read every day, with aſtoniſhment, things which we ſee every day without ſurpriſe. We wonder at the intrepidity of a Leonidas, a Codrus, and a Cur- tius; and are not in the leaſt ſurpriſed to hear of a ſea- captain, who has blown tip his ſhip, his crew, and himſelf, that they might not fall into the hands of the enemies of his country. I cannot help reading of Porſenna and Regulus with ſurpriſe and reverence ; and yet I remember that I ſaw, without either, the execution of Shepherd *, a boy of eighteen years old, who intended to ſhoot the late king, and who would have been pardoned, if he would have expreſſed the leaſt ſorrow for his intended crime; but, on the contrary, he declared, That, if he was pardoned, he would attempt it again; that he thought it a duty which he owed his country; and that he died with pleaſure for having endeavoured to perform it. Rea- ſon equals Shepherd to Regulus; but prejudice, and the recency of the fact, makes Shepherd a common malefactor, and Regulus a hero. - Examine carefully, and reconſider all your notions * James Shepherd, a coach-painter's apprentice, was executed at Tyburn for high-treaſon, March the 17th, 1718, in the reign of George the Firſt. * . Cardinal de Ret:...Secrets. I 25. of things; analyſe them, and diſcover their component parts, and ſee if habit and prejudice are not the princi- . pal ones; weigh the matter, upon which you are to " form your opinion, in the equal and impartial ſcales of reaſon. It is not to be conceived how many peo- people, capable of reaſoning if they would, live and die in a thouſand errors, from lazineſs; they will ra- ther adopt the prejudices of others, than give them- ſelves the trouble of forming opinions of their own. They ſay things, at firſt, becauſe other people have ſaid them; and then they perfiſt in them, becauſe they have faid them themſelves. The laſt obſervation that I ſhall now mention of the cardinal’s, is, That a ſecret is more eaſily kept by a good many people, than one commonly imagines. By this he means a ſecret of importance, among peo- ple intereſted in the keeping of it. And it is certain that people of buſineſs know the importance of ſecrecy, and will obſerve it, where they are concerned in the event. And, the cardinal does not ſuppoſe that any body is filly enough to tell a ſecret, merely from the deſire of telling it, to any one that is not ſome way or other intereſted in the keeping of it, and concerned in the event. To go and tell your friends a ſecret with which they have nothing to do, is diſcovering to them ſuch an unretentive weakneſs, as muſt convince them that you will tell it to twenty others, and conſequently that they may reveal it without the riſque of being diſ- covered. But a ſecret properly eommunicated, only to thoſe who are to be concerned in the thing in queſtion, will probably be kept by them, though they ſhould be a good many. Little ſecrets are commonly told again, but great ones generally kept.—Adieu ! # G 3 { 126 j LETTER LXII. Modern Latin...War...Quibbles of Lawyers...General Prin- ciples of Justice...Casuistry...Common Sense the best Sense ... Letter Writing. DEAR Bo Y, London, September the 27th. I HAVE received your Latin le&ture upon war, which, though it is not exačtly the ſame Latin that Caeſar, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid ſpoke, is, however, as good Latin as the erudite Germans ſpeak or write. I have always obſerved, that the moſt learned people, that is thoſe who have read the moſt Latin, write the worſt; and this diſtinguiſhes the Latin of a gentleman ſcholar from that of a pedant. A gentleman has, pro- bably, read no other Latin than that of the Auguſtan age; and therefore can write no other: whereas the pedant has read much more bad Latin than good; and conſequently writes ſo too. He looks upon the beſt claſſical books as books for ſchool-boys, and conſe- quently below him; but pores over fragments of ob- ſcure authors, treaſures up the obſolete words which he meets with there, and uſes them, upon all occaſions, to ſhow his reading, at the expenſe of his judgment. Plautus is his favourite author, not for the ſake of the wit and the vis comica * of his comedies, but upon ac- count of the many obſolete words, and the cant of low charaćters, which are to be met with no where elſe. He will rather uſe olli than illi, optume than optime, and any bad word, rather than any good one, provided he can but prove, that, ſtrićtly ſpeaking, it is latin; that is, that it was written by a Roman. By this rule, I might now write to you in the language of Chaucer or Spenſer, and aſſert that I wrote Engliſh, becauſe it was Engliſh in their days; but I ſhould be a moſt af- feóted puppy if I did ſo, and you would not underſtand three words of my letter. All theſe, and ſuch-like af- feated peculiarities, are the charaćteriſtics of learned coxcombs and pedants, and are carefully avoided by all men of ſenſe. * - Modern Latin...If ar, &c. 127 I dipped, accidentally, the other day, into Pitiſcus's preface to his Lexicon; where I found a word that puzzled me, and which I did not remember ever to have met with before. It is the adverb praeft/ciné; which means, in a good hour: an expreſſion, which, by the ſuperſtition of it, appears to be low and vulgar. I looked for it; and at laſt I found, that it is once or twice made uſe of in Plautus; upon the ſtrength of which, this learned pedant thruſts it into his preface. Whenever you write Latin, remember that every word or phraſe which you make uſe of, but cannot find in Caeſar, Cicero, Livy, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, is bad, illiberal Latin, though it may have been written by a Roman. I muſt now ſay ſomething as to the matter of the lećture; in which, I confeſs, there is one doćtrine laid down that ſurpriſes me: it is this; Quum vero hoſis ſit lenta citave morte omnia dira nobis minitans quocumque bel- Iantibus negotium eſt, parum ſame interfuerit quo modo eum obruere et interficere ſatagamus ſº ferociam exuere cºnefelur. Ergo veneno quoque uti fas eff, &c.” whereas I cannot conceive that the uſe of poiſon can, upon any account, come within the lawful means of ſelf-defence. Force may, without doubt, be juſtly repelled by force, but not by treachery and fraud; for I do not call the ſtra- tagems of war, ſuch as atmbuſcades, maſked batteries, falſe attack, &c. frauds or treachery; they are mutual- ly to be expected and guarded againſt; but poiſoned arrows, poiſoned waters, or poiſon adminiſtered to your enemy (which can only be done by treachery) I have always heard, read, and thought, to be unlawful and infamous means of defence, be your danger ever ſo great : but, ſº ferociam exuere cunéfeturf; muſt Ira- ther die than poiſon this enemy Yes, certainly ; much rather die than do a baſe or criminal ačtion: nor can I be ſure, before-hand, that this enemy may not, in the laſt moment, ferociam evuere 4. But the public law- * When an enemy is conſtantl; contriving for us every wicked. mode of deſtruction, we ſeem authoriſed to take every method to re- move or deſtroy him, if his ferocity remains yet unſubdued. In that caſe, it may be lawful even to enploy poiſon. + If his ferocity remains unſubdued. : Lay aſide his ferocity. h G 4 128 Quibblesoflawyers...Principles ofJustice... Casuistry. yers, now, ſeem to me, rather to warp the law, in or- * der to authoriſe, than to check, thoſe unlawful pro- ceedings of princes and ſtates; which, by being become common, appear leſs criminal; though cuſtom can never alter the nature of good and ill. # , Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinements of caſuiſts, break into the plain notions of right and wrong, which every man’s right reaſon, and plain common-ſenſe; ſuggeſt to him. To do as you would be done by, is the plain, ſure, and undiſputed rule of morality and juſtice. Stick to that, and be convinced, that whatever breaks into it, in any degree, however fpeciouſly it may be turned, and however puzzling it may be to anſwer it, is, notwithſtanding, falſe in itſelf, unjuſt, and criminal. I do not know a crime in the world, which is not, by the caſuiſts among the Jeſuits (eſpecially the twenty-four colle&ted, 1 think, by Eſ. cobar) allowed in ſome, or many caſes, not to be cri- minal. The P”. firſt laid down by them are often ſpecious, the ſeaſonings plauſible, but the con- cluſion always a lie : for it is contrary to that evident and undeniable rule of juſtice, which I have mentioned above, of not doing to any one what you would not have him do to you. But, however, theſe refined pieces of caſuiſtry and ſophiſtry, being very convenient and welcome to people's paſſions and appetites, they gladly accept the indulgence, without deſiring to detect the fallacy of the reaſoning : and indeed many, I might ſay moſt people, are not able to do it; which makes the publication of ſuch quibblings and refinements the more permicious. I am no ſkilful caſuiſt, nor ſubtle diſputant; and yet I would undertake to juſtify and qualify the profeſſion of a highwayman, ſtep by ſtep +, and ſo plauſibly, as to make many ignorant people em- brace the profeſſion, as an innocent, if not even a laud- able one; and to puzzle people, of ſome degree of knowledge, to anſwer me point by point. I have ſeen a book, entitled Quidlibet ex Quolibet, or, The Art of + It is remarkable that this has actually been done ſince his lordſhip wrote, by ſome atheiſtical metaphyſicians, who have at- tempted to ſet afide all the Inoral obligations. - --- * – " Casuistry...Common Schse the best Sense, &c. 129 making any thing out of any thing; which is not ſo difficult as it would ſeem, if once one quits certain plain truths, obvious in groſs to every underſtanding, in order to run after the ingenious refinements of warm imaginations and ſpeculative reaſonings. Dr. Berke- ley, biſhop of Cloyne, a very worthy, ingenious, and learned mãn, has written a book to prove, that there is no ſuch thing as matter, and that nothing exiſts but in idea: that you and I only fancy ourſelves eating, drink- ing, and ſleeping; you at Leipſig, and I at london ; that we think we have fleſh and blood, legs, arms, &c. but that we are only ſpirit. His arguments are, ſtrićtly ſpeaking, unanſwerable; but yet I am ſo far from being convinced by them, that I am determined to go on toº eat and drink; aſid walk and ride, in order to keep that Amatter, which I’ſo miſtakenly imagine my body at pre- ſent to conſiſt of, in as good plight as poſſible. Common fenſe (which, in truth, is very uncommon) is the beſt ſenſe I, know of: abide by it, it ºil counſel you beſt. Read and hear, for your amuſemé gºingenious ſyſtems, nice queſtions ſubtily agitated, whº all the refinements that warm imaginations ſuggeſt; but conſider them only as exercitations for the mind, and return always to ſet- tle with commen ſenſe. . . . . . . cy. " I ſtumbled the other day, at a bookſeller's, upon Comte de Gabalis; in two very little volumes, which I had formerly read, Iread, it over again, and with freſh aſtoniſhment. Moſt of the extravagances are taken from the Jewiſh rabbins, who broached thoſe wild notions, and delivered them in the unintelligible jargon which the Caballiſts and Roſicrucians deal in £o this day. Their number is, I believe, much leſſened, but there are ſtill fome;sand. I'myſelf have known two; who ſtudied, and firmly believed. in that myſtical non- ſenſº;3 what extravagancy is not man capable of en- tertaining; when,0pce his ſhackled reaſon is led in tri- umph by-fancy, and prejudiceſ . The ancient, alche- miſts gaye very much into this ſtuff, by which they thought they-ſhould diſcover the philoſopher’s ſtone; and ſome of the moſt celebrated empirics employed it in the purſuit of the univerſal medicine, Paracelſus; a bold empiric, and wild caballiſt, aſſerted, that he had º' ' ' G & > - +38 Tetter J.P.riting. diſcovered it; and called it his alkaheſt. Why, or wherefore, God knows; only that thoſe madmen call nothing, by an intelligible name. You may eaſily get this book from the Hague: read it, for it will both di- vert and aſtoniſh you; and at the ſame time teach you zil admirari “ —a very neceſſary leſſon: Your letters, except when upon a given ſubjećt, are exceedingly laconic, and neither anſwer my deſires, nor the purpoſe of letters, which ſhould be familiar con- verſations between abſent friends. As I deſire to lives with you upon the footing of an intimate friend, and not of a parent, I could-wiſh that your letters gave me more particular accounts of yourſelf, and of your leſſer tranſaćtions. When you write to me, ſuppoſe yourſelf sonverſing freely with me, by the fire-ſide. In that caſe, you would naturally mention the incidents of the day; as, where you had been, whom you had ſeen, what you thought of them, &c. Do this in your let- ters; acquaint me ſºmetimes with your ſtudies, ſome- times with your divºſions; tell me of any new perſons and charaćters that you meet with in company, and add your own obſervations upon them: in ſhort, let me ſee more of you in your letters. How do you go on with lord Pulteney P and how does he go on at 1.eipfig 2 Has he learning, has he parts, has he appli- cation ? Is he good or ill-natured in ſhort, what is he ; at leaſt, what do you think of him 2 You may tell me without reſerve, for I promiſe you ſecrecy. You are now of an age that I am deſirous to begin a confi- dential correſpondence with you; and as I ſhall, on my part, write to you very freely, my opinion upon men and things, which I ſhould often be very unwilling that any body but you and Mr. Harte ſhould ſee; ſo, on your part, if you write to me without reſerve, you may depend upon my inviolable ſecrecy. Tell me what books you are now reading, either by way of ftudy or amuſement; how you paſs your evenings when at home, and where you paſs them when abroad. I know that you go ſometimes to madame Valentin's aſſembly: what do you do there 2 do you play, or ſup, or is it only la belle converſation 3 & * To wonder at nothing, The Question discussed, What is good Company P 13F I ſhould wiſh that you were poliſhed, before you go to Berlin; where, as you will be in a great deal of good company, I would have you have the right man- ners for it. In your deſtination this will be abſolutely neceſſary; for a miniſter who only goes to the court he refides at in form, to aſk an audience of the prince or the miniſter, upon his laſt inſtrućtions, puts them. upon their guard, and will never know any thing more. than what they have a mind that he ſhould know. Here women may be put to ſome uſe. But then, in this caſe, the height of that ſort of addreſs which ſtrikes women is requiſite; I mean that eaſy politeneſs, genteel and graceful addreſs, and that extérieur brilliant", which they cannot withſtand. There is a ſort of men ſo like wo— men, that they are to be taken juſt in the ſame way; I mean thoſe who are commonly called fine men; who ſwarm at all courts; who have little refle&tion, and leſs. knowledge; but who, by their good-breeding, and train- tran of the world, are admitted into all companies; and, by the imprudence or careleſſneſs of their ſupe- riors, pick up ſecrets worth knowing, which they as eaſily impart to others, who have only a proper ad- dreſs.-Adieu ! - —- LETTER LXIII. The Question discussed, What is good Company ”...Case tions against low Company...Against the Adoption of fashionable Pices, - DEA R Boy, Bath, Oćtober the 12th. T CAME here three days ago, upon account of a diſ- order in my ſtomach, which affected my head, and gave me vertigos. I already find myſelf ſomething better. But how-ever, and where-ever I am, your welfare, your charaćter, 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 * Faſcinating exterior. *º ºr - * +32 The Question discussed, iPhat is good Company? come too late ; with you, every thing is to come, even, in ſome manner, refle&tion itſelf; ſo that this is the very time when my refle&tions, 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 im- portance to you; but thoſe which you ſhall receive will be decifive, for they always ſtick. To keep good company, eſpecially at your firſt ſetting out, is the way to receive good impreſfions. 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 reſpe&tive ſets of com- pany 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 fome objećtions which they may form to ſome of the individuals who compoſe it. It confiſts chiefly (but by no means without excep- tion) of people of conſiderable birth, rank, and cha- raćter : for people of neither birth nor rank, are fre- quently, and very juſtly, admitted into it, if diſtin- guiſhed 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 protećtion of ſome conſider- able perſon; and ſome even of indifferent charaćters and morals make part of it. But, in the main, the good part preponderates, and people of infamous and blaſt- ed charaćters are never admitted. In this faſhionable good company, the beſt manners, and the beſt lan- guage of the place, are moſt unqueſtionably 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 aſcer- tain either. - A company confiſting wholly of people of the firſt quality, cannot, for that reaſon, be called good com- pany, in the common acceptation of the phraſe, unleſs Cautions against low Company, &c. 133 they are, into the bargain, the faſhionable and accredit- ed company of the place; for people of the very firſt quality can be as filly, 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 of the world, as they do not live in it. If you can bear your part well in ſuch a company, it is extreme- Iy right to be in it ſometimes, and you will be 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. . . . 2 . - - * r The company of profeſſed wits and poets is extreme- ly inviting to moſt young men; who, if they have wit themſelves, are pleaſed with it; and if they have none, are fillily proud of being one of it: but it ſhould be frequented with moderation and judgement, 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 confidered only. as one of that particular ſet. f - 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 ne- ceſſary to warn you againſt ſuch company ; , but, yet I do not think it wholly unneceſſary, after the many in- 134. Against the Adoption of fashionable Pices. ſtances 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 dićtates, is applauded, admired; and for the ſake of being the Coryphaeus * of that wretched chorus, diſgraces, and diſqualifies himſelf ſoon for any better company. De- pend 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 you who you are.” Make it, therefore, your bufineſs, 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 com- pany. 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 before obſerved) is compoſed of a great variety of faſhionable people, whoſe charaćters 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 obječts of his imitation. He has often heard that abſurd term of genteel and faſhion- able vices. He there ſees ſome people who ſhine, and who in general are admired and eſteemed; and ob- ferves, that theſe people are whore-maſters, drunkards, or gameſters: upon which he adopts their vices, miſ- taking their defects for their perfeótions, and thinking that they owe their faſhion and their luſtre to thoſe genteel vices. Whereas it is exačtly 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, * Leader of the band. Against the Adoption of fashionable Pices. 135 of their own, in time, by theſe genteel and faſhion- able vices. A whore-maſter, 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, is, doubtleſs, a fine model to copy from. And a gameſter, tearing his hair, and blaſpheming, for hav- ing loſt more than he had in the world, is ſurely a moſt amiable charaćter. No ; theſe are atlays, and great ones too, which can never adorn any charaćter, 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 charaćters, the good part only makes people forgive, but not ap- prove, 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 con- vinced, ruined ten times more young men, than na- tural 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 that many people, of ſhining rank and charaćter, gamed too. I was then young enough, and filly enough, to believe, that gaming was one of their accompliſhments; and, as I aimed at perfečtion, I adopted gaming as a neceſ- ſary ſtep to it. Thus I acquired, by error, the habit of a vice, which, far from adorning my charaćter, has, I am conſcious, been a great blemiſh in it. . Imitate, then, with diſcernment and judgement, the real perfeótions of the good company, into which you ! may get; copy their politeneſs, their carriage, their : te $º | *. * * #36 . .” - Rules for Conversation, &c. addreſs, and the eaſy and well-bred turn of their con- Averſation; but remember, that, let them ſhine ever ſo bright, their vices, if-they have any, are fo 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 misfortuhe 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 &garemensãº, I will now ſhow, you a little of my right ſide. I always en- deavoured 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 f ; but, on the con- trary, attended to everything that was, ſaid, done, or even looked, in company: I never failed in the mi- nuteſt attentions, and was never journalier . . Theſe things, and not my garemens, made me faſhionable. Adieu ! this letter is full long enough. . . . . . . . -mº ºne-- - LETTER LXIV. . . . . Rules for Conversation...Cautions against a Spirit of arguº ing in Company...Instances of ridiculous ſaility in Con- ºversation...Cautions against Egotism...Prudent Reserve, Scandal...Mimicry...Swearing... Laughter. , * My DEAR CHILD, . . . . . . . . Bath, Oétober, the 19th. j. HAVING, in my laſt, pointed out, what ſort of com: pany you ſhould keep, I will now give you ſome rules for your condućt in it, rules which my own experi- ence and obſervation enable me to Jay down, and communicate to you, with ſome degree of confidence. I have often given you hints ºf this kind before, but then it has been by ſnatches; I will now be more re- gular and methodical. I ſhall ſay, hothing with regard to your bodily carriage and addreſs, but leave them to your own attention to the beſt models: remember, however, that they are of conſequence... . . . . . * Errors, * Pºssi, 3- f Capricious, • 2 - ? -- $ . . . . . Rules for Conversitiion, &c. I 37 Talk often, but never long; in that caſe, if you do not pleaſe, at leaſt you are ſure not to tire your hearers. . Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat the whole company; this being one of the very few caſes in which people do not care to be treated, every one being fully convinced that he has where withal to pay. Tell ſtories very ſeldom, and abſolutely never but where they are very apt, and very ſhort. Omit every circumſtance that is not material, and beware of di. greſſions. To have frequent recourſe to narrative, betrays great want of imagination. - Never hold any body by the button, or the hand, in order to be heard out; for, if people are not willing to hear you, you had much better hold your tongue than them. Moſt long talkers fingle out ſome one unfortunate man in company (commonly him whom they obſerve to be the moſt filent) or their next neighbour, to whiſ. per, or at leaſt, in a half voice, to convey a continuity of words to. This is exceſſively ill-bred, and, in ſome degree, a fraud; converſation-ſtock being a joint and common property. But, on the other hand, if one of theſe unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, hear him with patience (and at leaſt ſeeming attention), if he is good and worth obliging; for nothing will oblige him more than a patient hearing; as nothing would hurt him more, than either to leave him in the midſt of his diſcourſe, or to diſcover your impatience under, your afflićtion. . . . . Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are in. If you have parts, you will ſhow them, more or leſs, upon every ſubjećt ; and if you have not, you had better talk fillily upon a ſubjećt of other people's, than of your own chufing. Avoid, as much as you can, in mixed companies, argumentative, polemical converſations; which, though they ſhould not, yet certainly do, indiſpoſe for a time, the contending parties towards each other : and, if the controverſy grows warm and noiſy, endeavour to put an end to it, by ſome genteel levity or joke. I quiet- ed ſuch a converſation hubbub once, by repreſenting to them, that, though I was perſuaded none there pre- *. * *#. + I 38 Cautions against Egotism in Conversation. ſent would repeat, out of company, what paſſed in it, yet I could not anſwer for the diſcretion of the paſſen- gers in the ſtreet, who muſt neceſſarily hear all that was ſaid. - Above all things, and upon all occaſions, avoid ſpeaking of yourſelf, if it be poſſible. Such is the na- tural pride and vanity of our hearts, that it perpetually breaks out, even in people of the beſt parts, in all the various modes and figures of the egotiſm. Some, abruptly, ſpeak advantageouſly of themſelves, without either pretence or provocation. They are im- pudent. Others proceed more artſully, as they ima- gine, and forge accuſations againſt themſelves, com- plain of calumnies which they never heard, in order to juſtify themſelves, by exhibiting a catalogue of their many virtues. They acknowledge it may, indeed, ſeem odd, that they ſhould talk in that manner of them- ſelves; it is what they do not like, and what they never would have done; no, no tortures ſhould ever have forced it from them, if they had not been thus unjuſtly and monſtrouſly accuſed. But, in theſe caſes, juſtice is ſurely due to one’s-ſelf, as well as to others; and, when our charaćter is attacked, we may ſay, in our own juſtification, what otherwiſe we never would have ſaid. This thin veil of modeſty drawn before vanity, is much too tranſparent to conceal it, even from very moderate diſcernment. - Others go more modeſtly and more ſlily ſtill (as they think) to work: but, in my mind, ſtill more ridicul- ouſly. They confeſs themſelves (not without ſome degree of ſhame and confuſion) into all the cardinal virtues; by firſt degrading them into weakneſſes, and then owning their misfortune, in being made up of thoſe weakneſſes. They cannot ſee people ſuffer, with- out ſympathifing with, and endeavouring to help them. They cannot ſee people want, without relieving them ; though, truly, their own circumſtances cannot very well afford it. They cannot help ſpeaking truth, though they know all the imprudence of it. In ſhort, they know that, with all theſe weakneſſes, they are not fit to live in the world, much leſs to thrive in it. But they are now too old to change, and muſt rub on as Cautions against Egotism in Conversation, 139 well as they can. This ſounds too ridiculous and outré, almoſt, for the ſtage; and yet, take my word for it, you will frequently meet with it, upon the common ſtage of the world. And here I will obſerve, by the bye, that you will often meet with charaćters in nature, ſo extravagant, that a diſcreet poet would not venture to ſet them upon the ſtage, in their true and high co- Iouring. - This principle of vanity and pride is ſo ſtrong in hu- man-nature, that it deſcends even to the loweſt objećts; and one often ſees people angling for praiſe, where, admitting all they ſay to be true, (which, by the way, it ſeldom is) no juſt praiſe is to be caught. One man affirms that he rode poſt an hundred miles in ſix hours: probably it is a lie; but, ſuppoſing it to be true, what then * Why he is a very good poſt-boy, that is all. Another aſſerts, and probably not without oaths, that he has drunk ſix or eight bottles of wine at a ſitting: out of charity, I will believe him a liar; for, if I do not, I muſt think him a beaſt. , Such, and a thouſand more, are the follies and ex- travagances which vanity draws people into, and which always defeat their own purpoſe; and, as Wal- ler ſays, upon another ſubjećt, Make the wretch the moſt deſpiſed, Where moſt he wiſhes to be prized. The only ſure way of avoiding theſe evils, is, never to ſpeak of yourſelf at all. But when, hiſtorically, you are obliged to mention yourſelf, take care not to drop one ſingle word, that can direétly or indireétly be conſtrued as fiſhing for applauſe. Be your charaćter what it will, it will be known; and nobody will take it upon your own word. Never imagine that any thing you can ſay yourſelf will varniſh your defects, or add luſtre to your perfeótions; but, on the contrary, it may, and nine times in ten will, make the former more glaring, and the latter obſcure. If you are filent upon your own ſubjećt, neither envy, indignation, nor ridi- cule, will obſtrućt gr allay the applauſe which you may really deſerve; but if you publiſh your own panegyric, upon any occaſion, or in any ſhape whatſoever, aſid * #. 140 Prudent Reserve...Scandal...Mim icy, &c. – however artfully dreſſed or diſguiſed, they will all con- ſpire againſt you, and you will be diſappointed of the very end you aim at. …” Take care never to ſeem dark and myſterious; which is not only a very unamiable charaćter, but a very ſuſpicious one too: if you ſeem myſterious with others, they will be really ſo with you, and you will know nothing. The height of abilities is, to have volto ſciolto, and pen/ſeri ſãretti; that is, a frank, open, and ingenu- ous exterior, with a prudent and reſerved interior, as far as virtue warrants, or rather dićtates to you. De- pend upon it, nine in ten of every company you are in. will avail themſelves of every indiſcreet and un- guarded expreſſion of yours, if they can turn it to their own advantage. A prudent reſerve is, therefore, com- monly a virtue ; as by an unwarrantable frankneſs you may injure others as well as yourſelf. Always look people in the face when you ſpeak to them; the not doing it is thought to imply conſcious guilt; beſides that, you loſe the advantage of obſerving by their countenances what impreſſion your diſcourſe makes upon them. In order to know people's real ſenti- ments, I truſt much more to my eyes than to my ears; for they can ſay whatever they have a mind I ſhould hear, but they can ſeldom help looking what they have no intention that I ſhould know, - Neither retail nor receive ſcandal, willingly; , for though the defamation of others may, for the preſent, gratify the malignity or the pride of our hearts, cool refle&tion will draw very diſadvantageous concluſions from ſuch a diſpoſition: and in the caſe of ſcandal, as in that of robbery, the receiver is always thought as bad as the thief. * Mimicry, which is the common and favourite amuſe- ment of little, low -minds, is in the utmoſt contempt with great ones. It is the loweſt and moſt illiberal of all buffoonery. Pray, neither, pračtiſe it yourſelf, nor applaud it in others. Beſides that, the perſon mimick- ed is inſulted ; and, as I have often obſerved to you before, an inſult is never forgiven., . . r I need not (I believe) adviſe: you to adapt your converſation to the people you are converſing with : Rules for Conversation...Swearing... Laughter. 141 or I ſuppoſe you would not, without this caution, have talked upon the ſame ſubjećt, and in the ſame manner, to a miniſter of ſtate, a biſhop, a philoſopher, a captain, and a woman. A man of the world muſt, like the cameleon, be able to take every different hue; which is by no means a criminal or abjećt, but a ne- ceſſary complaiſance, for it relates only to manners, and not to morals. - One word only, as to ſwearing; and that, I hope and believe, is more than is neceſſary. You may ſome- times hear ſome people, in good company, interlardº their diſcourſe with oaths, by way of embelliſhment, as they think; but you muſt obſerve, too, that thoſe who do ſo are never thoſe who contribute, in any de- gree, to give that company the denomination of good company. They are always ſubalterns, or people of low education; for that practice, beſides that it has no one temptation to plead, is as ſilly, and as illiberal, as it is wicked. -- - Houd laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are only pleaſed with filly things ; for true wit or good ſenſe never excited a laugh ſince the creation of the world. A man of parts and faſhion is therefore often ſeen to ſmile, but ſeldom heard to laugh. But, to conclude this long letter,-all the above- mentioned rules, however carefully you may obſerve them, will loſe half their effect, if unaccompanied by the Graces. Whatever you ſay, if you ſay it with a ſupercilious, cynical face, or an embarraſſed counte- nance, or a filly, diſconcerted grin, will be ill received. If, into the bargain, you mutter it, or utter it indi- ſtinétly, and ungracefully, it will be ſtill worſe received. If your air and addreſs are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, you may be eſteemed, indeed, if you have great intrinſic merit; but you will never pleaſe: and, with- out pleaſing, you will riſe but heavily. Venus, among the ancients, was ſynonymous with the Graces, who were always ſuppoſed to accompany her; and Horace tells us, that even youth, and Mercury, the god of arts and eloquence, would not do without her. *. Paru in comis fine te Juventas Ale:*::::iu fºue. [ 142 j LETTER Lxv. Cautions against the Levity and Giddiness of Youth...Against Indiscretion in Conversation, and Captiousness...Against meddling in other People's Concerns...Against repeating in one Company what passes in another... Bons Diables... Steadiness...Complaisance...Marks of a low Mind. in EAR Bo Y, Bath, Oétober the 29th. MY anxiety for your ſucceſs increaſes, in proportion as the time approaches of your taking your part upon the great ſtage of the world. The audience will form their opinion of you upon your firſt appearance (mak- ing the prope rallowance for your inexperience), and ſo far it will be final, that, though it may vary as to the degrees, it will never totally change. This conſidera- tion excites that reſtleſs attention, with which I am conſtantly examining how I can beſt contribute to the E. of that charaćter, in which the leaſt ſpot or lemiſh would give me more real concern than I am now capable of feeling upon any other account what- ſoever. I have long ſince done mentioning your great religi- ous and moral duties; becauſe I could not make your underſtanding ſo bad a compliment, as to ſuppoſe that you wanted, or could receive, any new #. upon thoſe two important points. Mr. Harte, I am fure, has not negle&ted them; beſides, they are ſo ob- vious to common ſenſe and reaſon, that commentators may (as they often do) perplex, but cannot make them clearer. My province, therefore, is to ſupply, by my experience, your hitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of the world. People at your age are in a ſtate of natural ebriety; and want rails, and gardefour, wherever they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. This drunkenneſs of youth is not only tolerated, but even pleaſes, if kept within certain bounds of diſcre- tion and decency. Thoſe bounds are the point, which it is difficult for the drunken man himſelf to find out; and there it is that the experience of a friend may not only ſerve, but ſave him. Cautious against Ill-conduct in Company. 143 Carry with you, and welcome, into company, all the gaiety and ſpirits, but as little of the giddineſs of youth as you can. The former will charm; but the latter will often, though innocently, implacably offend. Inform yourſelf of the charaćters and ſituations of the company, before you give way to what your imagina- tion may prompt you to ſay. There are, in all com- panies, more wrong heads than right ones, and many more who deſerve, than who like cenſure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praiſe of ſome virtue, which ſome in company notoriouſly want; or declaim againſt any vice, which others are notoriouſly infected with ; your refle&tions, however general and unapplied, will, by being applicable, be thought perſonal, and levelled at thoſe people. This confideration points out to you, ſufficiently, not to be ſuſpicious and captious yourſelf, nor to ſuppoſe that things, becauſe they may, are therefore meant at you. The manners of well-bred people ſecure one from thoſe indireét and mean at- tacks; but if, by chance, a flippant woman, or a pert coxcomb, lets off any thing of that kind, it is much better not to ſeem to underſtand, than to reply to it. Cautiouſly avoid talking of either your own or other people's domeſtic affairs. Yours are nothing to them, but tedious; theirs are nothing to you. The ſubjećt is a tender one; and it is odds but you touch ſomebody or other's ſore place; for, in this caſe, there is no truſt- ing to ſpecious appearances ; which may be, and often are, ſo contrary to the real ſituation of things, between men and their wives, parents and their children, ſeem- ing friends, &c. that, with the beſt intentions in the world, one often blunders diſagreeably. Remember, that the wit, humour, and jokes, of moſt mixed-companies, are local. They thrive in that parti- cular ſoil, but will not, often, bear tranſplanting. Every company is differently circumſtanced, has its particular cant and jargon; which may give occaſion to wit and mirth, within that circle, but would ſeem flat and inſipid in any other, and therefore will not bear repeating. Nothing makes a man look fillier, than a pleaſantry, not reliſhed or not underſtood; and if he meets with a profound filence, when he expe&ted a ge- j4 Cautions against Ill-conduct in Company, neral applauſe, or, what is worſe, if he is deſired to explain the bon mot, his awkward and embarraſſed ſitua- tion is eaſier imagined than deſcribed. A-propos of re- peating ; take great care never to repeat (I do not mean here the pleaſantries) in one company what you hear in another. Things, ſeemingly indifferent, may, by cir- culation, have much graver conſequences than you would imagine. Beſides, there is a general tacit truſt in converſation, by which a man is obliged not to re- port any thing out of it, though he is not immediately enjoined ſecrecy. A retailer of this kind is ſure to draw himſelf into a thouſand ſcrapes and diſcuſſions, and to be ſhily and uncomfortably received, wherever he goes. You will find, in moſt good company, ſome people, who only keep their place there by a contemptible title enough; theſe are what we call very good-natured fel- lows, and the French bons diables. The truth is, they are people without any parts or fancy, and who, having no will of their own, readily aſſent to, concur in, and applaud, whatever is ſaid or done in the company; and adopt, with the ſame alacrity, the moſt virtuous or the moſt criminal, the wiſeſt or the fillieſt ſcheme, that hap- pens to be entertained by the majority of the company. This fooliſh, and often criminal complaiſance, flows from a fooliſh cauſe,_the want of any other merit. I hope you will hold your place in company by a nobler tenure, and that you will hold it (you can bear a quib- ble, I believe, yet) in capite. Have a will and an opinion of your own, and adhere to them ſteadily; but then do it with good-humour, good-breeding, and (if you have it) with urbanity; for you have not yet beard enough either to preach or cenſure. All other kinds of complaiſance are not only blame- leſs, but neceſſary in good company. Not to ſeem to perceive the little weakneſſes, and the idle but innocent affectations of the company, is not only very allowable, but, in truth, a ſort of polite duty. They will be pleaſed with you, if you do ; and will certainly not be reformed by you, if you do not. For inſtance, you will find, in every groupe of company, two principat figures; viz. the fine lady and the fine gentleman : who abſolutely give the law of wit, language, faſhion, and taſte, to the Conduct in Coupany...Cemplaisanee, &c. 145 reſt of that ſociety. There is always a ſtrićt, and often, for the time being, a tender alliance between theſe two figures. The lady looks upon her empire as founded upon the divine right of beauty (and full as good a di- vine right it is, as any king, emperor, or pope, can pretend to); ſhe requires, and commonly meets with, unlimited paſſive obedience. And why ſhould ſhe not meet with it? Her demands go no higher than to have her unqueſtioned pre-eminence in beauty, wit, and fa- ſhion, firmly eſtabliſhed. Few ſovereigns (by the way) are ſo reaſonable. The fine gentleman's claims of right are, mutatis mutandis, the ſame ; and though, indeed, he is not always a wit de jure, yet, as he is the wit de fačio of that company, he is entitled to a ſhare of your allegiance; and every body expe&ts at leaſt as much as they are entitled to, if not ſomething more. Prudence bids you make your court to theſe joint ſovereigns; and no duty, that I know of, forbids it. Rebellion here is exceedingly dangerous, and inevitably puniſhed by ba- niſhment, and immediate forfeiture of all your wit, manners, taſte, and faſhion": as, on the other hand, a cheerful ſubmiſfion, not without ſome flattery, is fure to procure you a ſtrong recommendation, and moſt effectual paſs, throughout all their, and probably the neighbouring dominions. With a moderate ſhare of ſagacity, you will, before you have been half an hour in their company, eaſily diſcover theſe two principal figures; both by the deference which you will obſerve. the whole company pay them, and by that eaſy, care- leſs, and ſerene air, which their conſciouſneſs of power gives them. As in this caſe, ſo in all others, aim al- ways at the higheſt ; get always into the higheſt com- pany, and addreſs yourſelf particularly to the higheſt in it. The ſearch after the unattainable philoſopher's ſtone has occaſioned a thouſand uſeful diſcoveries, which otherwiſe would never have been made. What the French juſtly call le; maniere; nobles, are only to be acquired in the very beſt companies, They are the diſtinguiſhing charaćteriſtics of men of faſhion: people of low education never wear them to cloſe, but that ſome part or other of the original vulgariſm appears. Les manieres nobles equally forbid inſoleut Iq.6 Graces of Manner and Behaviour, &c. contempt, or low envy and jealouſy. Low people, in good circumſtances, fine clothes, and equipages, will. infolently ſhow contempt for all thoſe who cannot af- ford as fine cloths, as good equipage, and who have not (as their term is), as much money in their pockets: on the other hand, they are gnawed with envy, and cannot help diſcovering it, at thoſe who ſurpaſs them in any of theſe articles; which are far from being ſure criterions of merit. They are, likewiſe, jealous of being ſlighted; and, conſequently ſuſpicious and cap- tious : they are eager and hot about trifles; becauſe trifles were, at firſt, their affairs of conſequence. Les . manieres nobles imply exačtly the reverſe of all this. Study them early ; you cannot make them too habi- tual and familiar to you. - - By your account of the German play, which I do not know whether I ſhall call tragedy or comedy, the only ſhining part of it (ſince I am in a way of quibbling) - feems to have been the fox’s tail. I preſume, too, that the play has had the ſame fate with the ſquib, and has gone off no more. I remember a ſquib much better applied, when it was made the device of the colours of a French regiment of grenadiers; it was repreſented burſting, with this motto under it, Peream dum luceam *. I expect to meet Mr. Eliot in London, in about , three weeks, after which you will ſoon ſee him at Leipſig.-Adieu ! -mººn-- . . , LETTER LXVI. Graces of Manner and Behaviour...The Duke of Marl- borough...General Instructions on the Sulject. London, November the 18th. DEAR Box, A * WHATEVER I ſee, or whatever I hear, my firſt con- ſideration is, whether it can, in any way, be uſeful to you. As a proof of this, I went accidentally, the other day, into a print-ſhop, where, among many others, I found one print from a famous deſign of Carlo Maratti, * I ſhall periſh while I ſhine, * © * * Graces of Manner and Behaviour, &c. 1,47 who died about thirty years ago, and was the laſt emi- nent painter in Europe: the ſubjećt is, Il Studio del Di- ' ſegno ; or, The School of Drawing. An old man, ſuppoſed to be the maſter, points to his ſcholars, who are variouſly employed, in perſpective, geometry, and the obſervation of the ſtatues of antiquity. With re- gard to perſpective, of which there are ſome little ſpe- cimens; he has written, 7am to che baſi, that is, As much as is ſufficient ; with regard to geometry, Tanta che baſii again; with regard to the contemplation of the ancient ſtatutes, there is written, Nom ma; a baſian- za, There can never be enough. But, in the clouds, at the top of the piece, are repreſented the three Graces; with this juſt ſentence written over them, Senza di moi ognifatica & vana, that is, Without us all labour is vain. . . . This, every body allows to be true, in painting; but all people do not ſeem to confider, as I hope you will, that this truth is full as applicable to every other art or ſcience; indeed to everything that is to be ſaid or done. I will ſend you the print itſelf, by Mr. Eliot, when he returns: and I will adviſe you to make the ſame uſe of it that the Roman-catholics ſay they do of the pićtures and images of their ſaints; which is, only to remind them of thoſe ; for the adoration they diſclaim. Nay, I will go farther, and, as the tranſition from Popery to Paganiſm is ſhort and eaſy, I will claſſically and poeti- cally adviſe you to invoke, and ſacrifice to them every day. * f you aſk me how you ſhall acquire what neither you nor I can define or aſcertain; I can only anſwer, By obſervation. Form yourſelf, with regard to others, upon what you feel pleaſes you, in them. I can tell you the importance, the advantage, of having the graces; but I cannot give them you : [ heartily wiſh I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know a better preſent that I could make you. To ſhow you that a very wiſe, philoſophical, and retired man, thinks upon that ſubjećt as I do, who have always lived in the world, I ſend you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr. Locke's book upon Education; in which you will find the ſtreſs that he lays upon the graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. Iº marked all the parts of $ . * 2. * - * I 48 The Duke of Marlborough, &c. * that book, which are worth your attention; for as he begins with the child, almoſt from its birth, the parts relative to its infancy would be uſeleſs to you. Ger- many is, ſtill leſs than England, the ſeat of the Graces; however, you had as good not ſay ſo while you are there. But the place which you are going to, in a great degree is; for I have known as many well-bred men come from Turin, as from any part of Europe. The late king, Vićtor Amedéus, took great pains to form ſuch of his ſubjećts as were of any confideration, both to bufineſs and manners; the preſent king I am told follows his example: this, however, is certain, that in all courts and congreſſes, where there are various foreign mini- ſters, thoſe of the king of Sardinia are generally the ableſt, and the politeſt. You will therefore, at Turin, have very good models to form yourſelf upon; and, remember, that with regard to the beſt models, as well as to the antique Greek ſtatues in the print, mon mai a baſtanza. Obſerve every word, look, and motion of thoſe who are allowed to be the moſt accompliſhed perſons there. Obſerve their natural and careleſs, but genteel air; their unembarraſſed good-breeding; their unaſſuming, but yet unproſtituted dignity. Mind their decent mirth, their diſcreet frankneſs, and that entregent, which, as much above the frivolous as below the im- portant and the ſecret, is the proper medium for con- verſation in mixed companies. Of all the men that ever I knew in my life, (and I knew him extremely well) the late duke of Marlborough poſſeſſed the graces in the higheſt degree, not to ſay en- groſſed them; and indeed he got the moſt by them; for I will venture (contrary to the cuſtom of profound hi- ſtorians, who always aſſign deep cauſes for great events) to aſcribe the better half of the duke of Marlborough's greatneſs and riches to thoſe graces. He was eminently illiterate; wrote bad Engliſh, and ſpelled it ſtill worſe. He had no ſhare of what is commonly called parts; that is, he had no brightneſs, nothing ſhining in his genius. He had, moſt undoubtedly, an excellent good plain underſtanding, with found judgment. But theſe, alone, would probably have raiſed him but ſomething higher than they found him ; which was page to king Graces of Manner and Behaviour, &c. 149. James the Second's queen. There the graces protećted and promoted him; for, while he was an enſign of the Guards, the ducheſs of Cleveland, then favourite mi- ftreſs to king Charles the Second, ſtruck by thoſe very graces, gave him five thouſand pounds; with which he immediately bought an annuity for his life, of five hun- dred pounds a year, of my grandfather, Halifax; which was the foundation of his ſubſequent fortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner was irreſiſtible, by either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled, during all his war, to conneét the various and jarring powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main ob- jećt of the war, notwithſtanding their private and ſepa- rate views, jealouſies, and wrong-headedneſs. What- ever court he went to (and he was often obliged to go himſelf to ſome reſtive and refraćtory ones), he as con- ſtantly prevailed, and brought them into his meaſures. The penſionary Heinſius, a venerable old miniſter, grown grey in buſineſs, and who had governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was abſolutely governed by the duke of Marl- borough, as that republic feels to this day. He was always cool; and nobody ever obſerved the leaſt varia- tion in his countenance: he could refuſe more grace- fully than other people could, grant; and thoſe who went away from him the moſt diſſatisfied, as to the ſub- ſtance of their buſineſs, were yet perſonally charmed with him, and, in ſome degree, comforted by his man- ner. With all his gentleneſs and gracefulneſs, no man living was more conſcious of his ſituation, nor main- tained his dignity better. - Do not miſtake, and think that theſe graces, which I ſo often and ſo earneſtly recommend to you, ſhould only accompany important tranſačtions, and be worn only les jours de gala + no; they ſhould, if poſſible, ac- company even the leaſt thing that you do or ſay; for if you neglect them in little things, they will leave you in great ones. I ſhould, for inſtance, be extremely * On holydays. * H 3 150 Admonitions on first going into the IP'orld, &c. concerned to ſee you even drink a cup of coffee un- gracefully, and ſlop yourſelf with it, by your awkward manner of holding it; nor ſhould I like to ſee your coat buttoned, or ſhoes buckled awry. But I ſhould be ou- trageous, if I heard you mutter your words unintelligibly, ſtammer in your ſpeech, or heſitate, miſplace, and miſ- take in your narrations; and I ſhould run away from you, with greater rapidity, if poſſible, than I ſhould now run to embrace you, if I found you deſtitute of all theſe graces, which I have ſet my heart upon their making you one day, omnibus ornatum excellere rebus *. -º- * LETTER LXVII. 4dmonitions on first going into the World...Dress...}’i- vacity. - - ºr DE AR Boy, London, December the 30th. I DIRECT this letter to Berlin, where, I ſuppoſe, it will either find you, or, at leaſt, wait but a little time for you. I cannot help being anxious for your ſucceſs, at this your firſt appearance upon the great ſtage of the world; for, though the ſpectators are always candid enough to give great allowances, and to ſhow great in- dulgence to a new actor; yet, from the firſt impreſ- ſion which he makes upon them, they are apt to de- cide, in their own minds at leaſt, whether he will ever be a good one or not ; if he ſeems to underſtand what he ſays, by ſpeaking it properly; if he is attentive to his part, inſtead of ſtaring negligently about ; and if, upon the whole, he ſeems ambitious to pleaſe, they willingly paſs over little-awkwardneſſes and inaccura- cies, which they aſcribe to a commendable modeſty in a young and unexperienced ačtor. They pronounce that he will be a good one in time : and, by the en- couragement which they give him, make him ſo the ſooner. This, I hope, will be your caſe: you have ſenſe enough to underſtand your part: a coaſtant at- Af * Prepared to excel in all things. s Admonitions on going into the World...Dress. 15 k tention, and ambition to excel in it, with a careful ob- fervation of the beſt ačtors, will inevitably qualify you, if not for the firſt, at leaſt for confiderable parts. Your dreſs (as inſignificant a thing as dreſs is in it- ſelf) is now become an objećt worthy of ſome atten- tion ; for, I confeſs, I cannot help forming ſome opinion of a man’s ſenſe and charaćter from his dreſs; and I believe moſt people do, as well as myſelf. . Any affectation whatſoever in dreſs, implies, in my mind, a flaw in the underſtanding. Moſt of our young fellows, here, diſplay ſome charaćter or other by their dreſs; ſome affect the tremendous, and wear a great and fierce- ly cocked hat, an enormous ſword, a ſhort waiſtcoat, and a black cravat: theſe I ſhould be almoſt tempted to ſwear the peace againſt, in my own defence, if I was not convinced that they are but meek aſſes in lions’ ſkins. Others go in brown frocks, leather. breeches, great oaken cudgets in their hands, their hats uncocked, and their hair unpowdered ; and imi- ſtate grooms, ſtage-coachmen, and country bumpkins, ſo well, in their outſides, that I do not make the leaſt doubt of their reſembling them equally in their inſides. A man of ſenſe carefully avoids any particular charac- ter in his dreſs: he is accurately clean for his own ſake; but all the reſt is for other people's. He dreſſes as well, and in the ſame manner, as the people of ſenſe and faſhion in the place where he is. If he dreſſes bet- ter, as he thinks, that is, more than they, he is a fop ; if he dreſſes worſe, he is unpardonably negligent : but, of the two, I would rather have a young fellow too much than too little dreſſed ; the exceſs on that ſide will wear off, with a little age and refle&tion; but, if he is negligent at twenty, he will be a ſloven at forty, and ſtink at fifty years old. Dreſs yourſelf fine, . where others are fine; and plain, where others are plain ; but take care, always, that your clothes are well made, and fit you, for otherwiſe they will give you a very awk- ward air. When you are once well dreſſed for the day, think no more of it afterwards; and, without any ſtiff- neſs for fear of diſcompoſing that dreſs, let all your mo- tions be as eaſy and natural as if you had no clothes on *g H 4. 152 Admonitions on going into the World...Picacity. at all. So much for dreſs, which I maintain to be a thing of conſequence in the polite world. As to manners, good-breeding, and the graces, I have ſo often entertained you upon theſe important ſubjećts, that I can add nothing to what I have for- merly ſaid. Your own good ſenſe will ſuggeſt to you the ſubſtance of them ; and obſervation, experience, and good company, the ſeveral modes of them. Your great vivacity, which I hear of from many people, will be no hindrance to your pleaſing in good company; on the contrary, will be of uſe to you, if tempered by good- breeding, and accompanied by the graces. But then, I ſuppoſe your vivacity to be a vivacity of parts, and not a conſtitutional reſtleſſneſs; for the moſt diſagree- able compoſition that I know in the world, is that of ſtrong animal ſpirits, with a cold genius. Such a fellow is troubleſomely ačtive, frivolouſly buſy, fool- iſh lively; talks much, with little meaning, and laughs more, with leſs reaſon; whereas, in my opinion, a warm and lively genius, with a cool conſtitution, is the per- fe&tion of human-nature. * - - Do what you will at Berlin, provided you do but do ſomething all day long. All I deſire of you is, that you will never ſlattern away one minute in idleneſs and in doing nothing. When you are not in company, learn what either books, maſters, or Mr. Harte, can teach you ; and when you are in company, learn (what company only can teach you) the charaćters and man- ners of mankind. I really aſk your pardon for giving you this advice; becauſe, if you are a rational creature, and a thinking being, as I ſuppoſe, and verily believe you are, it muſt be unneceſſary, and, to a certain de- gree, injurious. If I did not know, by experience, that ſome men paſs their whole time in doing nothing, I ſhould not think it poſſible for any being, ſuperior to monfieur Deſcartes’ automatons, to ſquander away in abſolute idleneſs one fingle minute of that ſmall por- tion of time which is allotted us in this world. I ſend you, my dear child ! (and you will not doubt) very ſincerely, the wiſhes of the ſeaſon, May you de- ſerve a great number of happy new-years l and, if you Instructions relative to Expenses, &c. 158 deſerve, may you have them. Many new-years, in- deed, you may ſee, but happy ones you cannot ſee without deſerving them. Theſe virtue, honour, and knowledge, alone can merit, alone can procure. Dii tibi dent ammos / de te mam caetera ſumes *, was a pretty piece of poetical flattery, where it was ſaid; I hope that, in time, it may be no flattery when ſaid to you. But I aſſure you, that, whenever I cannot apply the lat- ter part of the line to you with truth, I ſhall neither ſay, think, nor wiſh the former.—Adieu ! -smº ºm- LETTER LXVIII. Instructions relative to Expenses...Necessity of keeping cor- rect Accounts...Attention to the State of Prussia. D EAR Boy, London, January the 10th. I HAVE received your letter of the 13th December. Your thanks for my preſent, as you call it, exceed the value of the preſent; but the uſe, which you aſſure me that you will make of it, is the thanks which I defire to receive. Due attention to the inſide of books, and due contempt for the outſide, is the proper relation between a man of ſenſe and his books. - Now that you are going a little more into the world, I will take this occaſion to explain my intentions as to your future expenſes, that you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan accord- ingly. I ſhall neither deny nor grudge you any money, that may be neceſſary for either your improvement of your pleaſures; I mean, the pleaſures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement, I mean the beſt books, and the beſt maſters, coſt what they will; I alſo mean all the expenſe of lodgings, coach, dreſs, ſervants, &c. which, according to the ſeveral places where you may be, ſhall be reſpe&tively neceſſary, to enable you to keep the beſt company. Under the head of rational pleaſures, I comprehend, firſt, proper cha- rities, to real and compaſſionate objećts of it; ſecondly, * May the Gods give you long life! for every thing elſe is your own. *g H 5 154 Necessity of keeping correct Accounts, &c. proper preſents, to thoſe to whom you are obliged, or whom you deſire to oblige; thirdly, a conformity of expenſe to that of the company which you keep : as in public ſpectacles; your ſhare of little entertain- ments; a few piſtoles at games of mere commerce; and other incidentāl calls of good company. The only two articles which I will never ſupply, are, the profu- ſion of low riot, and the idle laviſhneſs of negligence and lazineſs. A fool ſquanders away, without credit or advantage to himſelf, more than a man of ſenſe fpends with both. The latter employs his money as he does his time, and never ſpends a ſhilling of the one, jor a minute of the other, but in ſomething that is ei- ther uſeful or rationally pleaſing to himſelf or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withſtand the charms of a toy-ſhop; ſnuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, &c. are his deſtruction. His ſervants and tradeſ- men conſpire with his own indolence, to cheat him ; and, in a very little time, he is aſtoniſhed, in the midſt of all the ridiculous ſuperfluities, to find himſelf in want of all the real comforts and neceſſaries of life. Without care and method, the largeſt fortune will not, and with them, almoſt the ſmalleſt will, ſupply all neceſſary ex- penſes. As far as you can poſſibly, pay ready money for every thing you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that money too yourſelf, and not through the hands of any ſervant; who always either ſtipulates poundage, or requires a preſent for his good word, as they call it. Where you muſt have bills (as for meat and drink, clothes, &c.) pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. Never, from a miſtaken Ceco- nomy, buy a thing...you do not want, becauſe it is cheap; or, from a filly pride, becauſe it is dear. Keep jº, in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; for no man, who knows what – he receives, and what he pays, ever runs out. I do not mean that you ſhould keep an account of the ſhillings and half-crowns which you may ſpend in chair- hire, operas, &c. they are unworthy of the time, and of the ink that they would conſume; leave ſuch minutiae to dull, penny-wiſe fellows ; but remember, in Ceconomy, * Instructions relative to Expenses, &c. I 55 as well as in every other part of life, to have the pro- per attention to proper objećts, and the proper contempt for little ones. A ſtrong mind ſees things in their true. proportions; a weak one views them through a magni- fying medium; which, like the microſcope, makes an elephant of a flea ; magnifies all little objećts, but can- not receive great ones. I have known many a many paſs for a miſer, by ſaving a penny, and wrangling for two-pence, who was undoing himſelf, at the ſame time, by living above his income, and not attending to effen- tial articles, which were above his portée. The ſure charaćteriſtic of a found and ſtrong mind, is, to find, in every thing, thoſe certain bounds, quos ultra citraque. nequit com/ftere rešium *. Theſe boundaries are marked: out by a very fine line, which only good-ſenfe and at- tention can diſcover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this line is good-breeding; beyond it, is troubleſome ceremony; ſhort of it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides often- tatious puritaniſm from criminal relaxation; in reli- gion, ſuperſtition from impiety; and, in ſhort, every virtue from its kindred vice or weakneſs, I think your have ſenſe enough to diſcover the line: keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; reſt º sº Harte, and he will poiſe you, till you are able to go. alone. By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line, than upon the ſlack rope; and, therefore, a good performer ſhines ſo much the more. . Your friend, comte Pertingue, who conſtantly in- quires after you, has written to comte, Salmour, the governor of the academy at Turin, to prepare a room for you there, immediately after the Aſcenſion , and has recommended you to him, in a manner, which E hope, you will give him no reaſon to répent, at be aſhamed of . As comte Salmour's ſon, now reſiding at the Hague, is my particular acquaintance, I ſhall have regular and authentic accounts of all that you do at Turin. 4 e - . . . . . . During your ſtay at Berlin, I expe&t that yóu ſhould inform yourſelf thoroughly of the preſent ſtate of: • 4 * On either fide of which is error,. . . H 6 156 Necessity of an carly Habit of Reflexion, &c. the civil, military, and eccleſiaſtical government of the king of Pruſſia's dominions. You muſt alſo inform yourſelf of the reformation which the king of Pruſſia has lately made in the law; by which he has both leſ- fened the number, and ſhortened the duration of law- ſuits: a great work, and worthy of ſo great a prince 1 . As he is indiſputably the ableſt prince in Europe, every part of his government deſerves your moſt diligent in- quiry, and your moſt ſerious attention. It muſt be owned, that you ſet out well, as a young politician, by beginning at Berlin, and then going to Turin, where you will ſee the next ableſt monarch to that of Pruſſia; ſo that, if you are capable of making political reflex- ions, thoſe two princes will furniſh you with ſufficient matter for them. -º Dºmºse-- LETTER LXIX. Necessity of an early Habit of Reflexion....Account of the Author’s early Conduct...Prejudices... Enthusiasm for the Ancients...Homer... Milton...Prejudices of Fashion...The Pope...The Pretender...Prejudices of the French and Eng- hsh...Free and despotic Governments. DEAR Boy, London, February the 7th. YoU are now come to an age capable of reflexion; and I hope you will do what, however, few people at your age do, exert it, for your own ſake, in the ſearch of truth and ſound knowledge. I will confeſs (for I am not unwilling to diſcover my ſecrets to you) that it is not many years ſince I have preſumed to refle&t for myſelf. Till ſixteen or ſeventeen, I had no reflexion; and, for many years after that, I made no uſe of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the company I kept, without examining whether they were juſt or not; and I rather choſe to run the riſk of eaſy error, than to take the time and trouble of inveſ- tigating truth. . Thus, partly from lazineſs, partly from diſfipation, and partly from the mauvaiſe honte of rejećt- ing faſhionable notions, I was (as I have ſince found) hurried away by prejudices, inſtead of being guided by Early Prejudices...Enthusiasm for the Ancients. 157 reaſon; and quietly cheriſhed error, inſtead of ſeeking for truth. But, ſince I have taken the trouble of reaſon- ing for myſelf, and have had the courage to own that I do ſo, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, and in how different a light I now ſee them, from that in which I formerly viewed them, through the deceitful medium of prejudice or authority. Nay, I may poſſibly ſtill retain many errors, which, from long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions; for it is very difficult to diſtinguiſh habits, early acquir- ed and long entertained, from the reſult of our reaſon and reflexion. My firſt prejudice (for I do not mention the preju- dices of boys and women, ſuch as hobgoblins, ghoſts, dreams, ſpilling ſalt, &c.) was my claſſical enthuſiaſm, which I received from . the books I read, and the ma- ſters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been no common ſenſe nor common honeſty in the world for theſe laſt fifteen hundred years; but, that they were totally extinguiſhed with the ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no faults, becauſe they were ancient; Mil- ton and Taſſo could have no merit, becauſe they were modern. And I could almoſt have ſaid, with regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very abſurdly and unbe- comingly for a philoſopher, ſays with regard to Plato, Cum quo errare malim quam cum aliis reëte ſentiré”. Whereas inow, without any extraordinary effort of genius, I have diſcovered, that nature was the ſame three thouſand years ago, as it is at preſent; that men were but men then as well as now; that modes and cuſtoms vary often, but that human-nature is always the ſame. And I can no more ſuppoſe, that men were better, braver, or wiſer, fifteen hundred or three thou- ſand years ago, than I can ſuppoſe that the animals, or vegetables, were better then than they are now. I dare aſſert too, in defiance of the favourers of the an- cients, that Homer's hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a ſcoundrel, and conſequently an improper charac- ter for the hero of an epic poem: he had ſo little re- * I would rather err with him than be right with others, *: 158 Enthusiasm for the Ancients...Prejudices of Fashion. gard for his country, that he would not aćt in defence of it, becauſe he “had quarrelled with Agamemnon about, a w-e; and then afterwards, animated by pri- wate reſentment only, he went about killing people baſely, I will call it, becauſe he knew himſelf invulne- rable; and yet, invulnerable as lie was, he wore the ſtrongeſt armour in the world; which I humbly appre- hend to be a blunder: for a horſe-ſhoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been ſufficient. On the other hand, with ſubmiſſion to the favourers of the moderns, I aſſert with Mr. Dryden, that the Devil is in truth the hero of Milton’s poem : his plan, which he lays, purſues, and at laſt executes, being the ſubjećt of the poem. From all which confiderations, I impar- tially conclude, that the ancients had their excellences and their defects, their virtues and their vices, juſt like the moderns: pedantry and affectation of learning decide clearly in favour of the former; vanity and ig- norance, as peremptorily, in favour of the latter. Re- ligious prejudices kept pace with my claſſical ones; and there was a time when I thought it impoſfible for the honeſteſt man in the world to be ſaved, out of the pale of the church of England : not confidering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will ; and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man fhould differ in opinion from me, as that I ſhould differ from him ; and that, if we are both ſincere, we are both blameleſs; and ſhould conſequently have mutual indulgence for each other. The next prejudices I adopted, were thoſe of the Beau monde ; in which, as I was determined to ſhine, I took what are commonly called the genteel vices to be neceſſary. I had heard them reckoned fo, and, without further inquiry, I believed it; or, at leaſt, ſhould have i... been aſhamed to have denied it, for fear of expoſing q' ...' r; myſelf to the ridicule of thoſe whom I confidered as the models of fine gentlemen. But I am now neither . aſhamed nor afraid to aſſert, that thoſe genteel vices, as they are falſely called, are only ſo many blemiſhes in the charaćter of even a man of the world, and what is called a fine gentleman, and degrade him in the opinions : of thoſe very people, to whom he hopes to recommend *y wº is: Prejudices...The Pope...The Pretender,...&c., 159 ' ºr tºg himſelf by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends ſo far, that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, inſtead of carefully concealing thoſe they had. Uſe and aſſert your own reaſon; reflect, examine, and analyſe every thing, in order to form a found and ma- ture judgment; let no gro; ago, impoſe upon your un- derſtanding, miſlead your ačtions, or dićtate your con- verſation. Be early, what, if you are not, you will, when too late, wiſh you had been. Conſult your rea- ſon by times: I do not ſay that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human reaſon is not infallible: but it will prove the leaſt erring guide that you can follow, except holy writ. Books and converſation may aſfiſt it; but adopt neither, blindly and impli- citly: try both by that rule, which God has given to direét us, reaſon. Of all the troubles, do not decline, as many people do, that of thinking. The herd of mankind can hardly be ſaid to think; their notions are almoſt all adoptive; and, in general, I believe it is better that it ſhould be ſo; as ſuch common prejudices contribute more to order and quiet, than their own fe- parate reaſonings would do, uncultivated and unim- proved as they are. We have many of thoſe uſeful prejudices in this country, which I ſhould be very forry to ſee removed. The good proteſtant convićtion, that the pope is both antichrift, and the whore of Ba- bylon, is a more effectual preſervative, in this country, againſt popery, than all the ſolid and unanſwerable ar- guments of Chillingworth. The idle ſtory of the Pretender's having been intro- duced in a warming-pan, into the queen's bed, though as deſtitute of all probability as of all foundation, has been much more prejudicial to the cauſe of Jacobitiſm than all that Mr. Locke and others have written, to ſhow the unreaſonableneſs and the abſurdity of the doc- trines of indefeaſible hereditary right, and unlimited paſ. five obedience. And that filly, ſanguine notion, which is firmly entertained here, that one Engliſhman can beat three Frenchmen, encourages, and has ſometimes enabled one Engliſhman, in reality, to beat two. A Frenchman ventures his life with alacrity pour l'hon- ..º. * sº 160 Prejudices...Free and despolic Governments. neur du roi “ , were you to change the objećt, which he has been taught to have in view, and tell him that it was pour le bien de la pairie #, he would very probably run away. Such groſs, local prejudices, prevail with the herd of mankind; and do not impoſe upon culti- wated, informed, and refle&ting minds : but then there are notions equally falſe, though not ſo glaringly ab- ſurd, which are entertained by people of ſuperior, and improved underſtandings, merely for want of the ne- ceſſary pains to inveſtigate, the proper attention to ex- amine, and the penetration requiſite to determine the truth. Thoſe are the prejudices which I would have you guard againſt, by a manly exertion and attention of your reaſoning faculty. To mention one inſtance, of a thouſand that I could give you—it is a general prejudice, and has been propagated for theſe ſixteen hundred years, that arts and ſciences cannot flouriſh under an abſolute government; and that genius muſt neceſſarily be cramped, where freedom is reſtrained. This ſounds plauſible, but is falſe in fact, Mechanic arts, as agriculture, manufactures, &c. will indeed be diſcouraged, where the profits and property are, from the nature of the government, inſecure : but why the deſpotiſm of a government ſhould cramp the genius of a mathematician, an aſtronomer, a poet, or an orator, I confeſs I could never diſcover. It may indeed de- prive the poet, or the orator, of the liberty of treating of certain ſubjećts in the manner they would wiſh, but it leaves them ſubjećts enough to exert genius upon, if they have it. Can an author with reaſon complain, that he is cramped and ſhackled, if he is not at liberty to publiſh blaſphemy, bawdry, or ſedition all which are equally prohibited in the freeſt governments, if they are wiſe and well-regulated ones. This is the preſent general complaint of the French authors; but, indeed, chiefly of the bad ones. No wonder, ſay they, that England produces ſo many great geniuſes; people there may think as they pleaſe, and publiſh what they think. Véry true; but who hinders them from thinking as they * The honour of the king. + The good of his country, Of liberal and illiberal Pleasures. 164 pleaſe ? If, indeed, they think in a manner deſtrućtive of all religion, morality, or good manners, or to the diſturbance of the ſtate, an abſolute government will certainly more effectually prohibit them from, or puniſh them for publiſhing ſuch thoughts, than a free one could do. But how does that cramp the genius of an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet P or how does it corrupt the eloquence of an orator, in the pulpit, or at the bar The celebrated authors of the Auguſtan age did not ſhine till after the fetters were rivetted upon the Roman people, by that cruel and worthleſs emperor. The revival of letters was not owing, either, to any free government, but to the encouragement and pro- tećtion of Leo X, and Francis I. ; the one as abſolute a pope, and the other as deſpotic a prince as ever reigned. Do not miſtake, and imagine, that, while I am onl expoſing a prejudice, I am ſpeaking in favour of arbi- trary power; which from my ſouſ I abhor, and look upon as a groſs and criminal violation of the natural rights of mankind.—Adieu ! * Lººm- LETTER LXX. 6f Pleasures...Liberal and illiberal Pleasures... Music...In- structions relative to Manners and visiting Foreign Coun- tries. DEAR Boy, London, April the 19th. THIS letter will, I believe, ſtill find you at Venice, in all the diffipation of maſquerades, ridottos, operas, &c. :-with all my heart; they are decent evening amuſements, and very properly ſucceed that ſerious ap- plication to which I am ſure you devote your mornings. There are liberal and illiberal pleaſures, as well as liberal and illiberal arts. There are ſome pleaſures, that degrade a gentleman, as much as ſome trades could do. . Sottiſh drinking, indiſcriminate gluttony, driving coaches, ruſtic ſports, ſuch as fox-chaſes, horſe-races, &c. are, in my opinion, infinitely below the honeſt and induſtrious profeſſions of a taylor and a ſhoemaker, which are ſaid to déroger. - - 162 - Music...Manners, &c. As you are now in a muſical country, where finging, fiddling, and piping, are not only the common topics of converſation, but almoſt the principal objećts of at- tention, I cannot help cautioning you againſt giving into thoſe (I will call them illiberal) pleaſures, (though muſic is commonly reckoned one of the liberal arts) to the degree that moſt of your countrymen do, when they travel in Italy. If you love muſic, hear it; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I infift upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourſelf. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous, contemptible light ; brings him into a great deal of bad company; and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to ſee you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth. I have had a great deal of converſation with comte du Perron, upon your ſubjećt; and I was very glad to hear, from one whom I think ſo good a judge, that you wanted nothing but des manieres; which I am con- vinced you will now ſoon acquire, in the company which henceforwards you are likely to keep. By manieres, I do not mean bare common civility; every body muſt have that, who would not be kicked out of company: but I mean engaging, and even ſhining manners; a diſtinguiſhed politeneſs, an almoſt irreſiſti- ble addreſs; a ſuperior gracefulneſs in all you ſay and do. It is this alone that can give all your other talents their full luſtre and value; and, conſequently, it is this which ſhould now be the principal objećt of your at- tention. - g The exerciſes of the academy, and the manners of . courts, muſt be attended to and acquired, and, at the ſame time, your other ſtudies continued. "I am ſure you will not paſs, nor defire, one ſingle idle hour at Turin; for I do not foreſee that you can, in any part of your life, put out ſix months to greater intereſt, than thoſe next which you are to ſpend there. We will talk hereafter about your ſtay at Rome, and in other parts of Italy. This only I will now recom- mend to you; which is, to extraćt the ſpirit of every. place you go to. In thoſe places, which are only diſ- Cautions against fashionable Pices, &c. I 63. tinguiſhed by , claſſical fame, and valuable remains of antiquity, have your claſſics in your hand and in your head; compare the ancient geography, and deſcriptions, with the modern ; and never fail to take notes, Rome will furniſh you with buſineſs enough of that ſort; but then it furniſhes you with many other objećts, well deſerving your attention ; ſuch as deep eccleſiaſtical craft and policy.—Adieu ! * . § -ºxººrººº- LETTER LXXI. Cautions against the Contagion of fashionable Pices...Ill Con- , duct and Manners of Englishmen on their Travels, &c. DEA R B O Y, • London, May the 15th. THIS letter will, I hope, find you ſettled to your ſerious ſtudies, and your neceſſary exerciſes, at Turin, after the hurry and diffipation of the carnival at Venice. I mean that your ſtay at Turin ſhould, and I flatter my- ſelf that it will, be an uſeful and ornamental period of your education ; but, at the ſame time, I miſt tell you, that all my affection for you has never yet given me ſo much anxiety as that which I now feel. While you are in danger, I ſhall be in fear; and you are in danger at Turin. Mr. Harte will, by his care, arm you as well as he can againſt it; but your own good ſenſe and reſolution can alone make you invulnerable. 1'am in- formed, there are now many Engliſh at the academy at Turin; and I fear, thoſe are juſt ſo many dangers for you to encounter. Who they are, I do not know ; but I well know the general ill-condućt, the indecent behaviour, and the illiberal views, of my young coun- trymen abroad; eſpecially wherever they are in num- bers together. Ill example is of itſelf dangerous enough; but thoſe who give it, ſeldom ſtop there; they add their infamous exhortations and invitations; and, if theſe fail, they have recourſe to ridicule, which is harder for one of your age and experience to withſtand than either of the former. Be upon your guard, there- fore, againſt theſe batteries, which will all be played upon you. You are not ſent abroad to converſe with # 64 Cautious against fashionable Pices, &c. - your own countrymen ; among them, in general, you will get little knowledge, no languages, and, I am ſure, no manners. I deſire that you will form no con- neétions, nor (what they impudently call) friendſhips, with theſe people, which are, in truth, only combina- tions and conſpiracies againſt good morals, and good manners. There is commonly, in young people, a facility that makes them unwilling to refuſe any thing that is aſked of them; a mauvaiſe homte, that makes them aſhamed to refuſe; and, at the ſame time, an am- bition of pleaſing and ſhining in the company they keep ; theſe ſeveral cauſes produce the beſt effect in good company, but the very worſt in bad. If people had no vices but their own, few would have ſo many as they have. For my own part, I would ſooner wear other people's clothes than their vices; and they would fit upon me juſt as well. I hope you will have none; but if ever you have, I beg, at leaſt, they may be all your own. Vices of adoption are, above all others, the moſt diſgraceful and unpardonable. There are degrees in vices, as well as in virtues; and I muſt do my coun- trymen the juſtice to ſay, they generally take their vices in the loweſt degree. Their gallantry is the in- famous mean debauchery of ſtews, juſtly attended and rewarded by the loſs of their health, as well as their eharaćter. Their pleaſures of the table end in beaſtly drunkenneſs, low riot, broken windows, and very often (as they well deſerve) broken bones. They game, for the ſake of the vice, not of the amuſement; and there- fore carry it to exceſs; undo, or are undone by their companions. By ſuch condućt, and in ſuch company. abroad, they come home, the unimproved, illiberal, and ungentleman-like creatures, that one daily ſees them ; that is, in the Park, and in the ſtreets, for one never meets them in good company; where they have neither manners to preſent themſelves, nor merit to be received. But, with the manners of footmen and grooms, they aſſume their dreſs too; for you muſt have obſerved them in the ſtreets here, in dirty blue frocks, with oaken ſticks in their hands, and their hair greaſy and unpowdered, tucked up under their hats of an enormous ſize. Thus finiſhed and adorned by their | Aº Cautions against fashionable Pices, &c. 1.65 travels, they become the diſturbers of playhouſes; they break the windows, and commonly the landlords, of the taverns where they drink; and are at once the ſupport, the terror, and the vićlims, of the bawdy- houſes they frequent. . Theſe poor miſtaken people think they ſhine, and ſo they do indeed; but it is as putrefaction ſhines,—in the dark. I am not now preaching to you, like an old fellow, upon either religious or moral texts; I am perſuaded you do not want the beſt inſtrućtions of that kind : but I am adviſing you as a friend, as a man of the world, as one who would not have you old while you are young, but would have you take all the pleaſures that reaſon points out, and that decency warrants. I will therefore ſuppoſe, for argument's-ſake (for upon no other account can it be ſuppoſed), that all the vices above mentioned were perfeótly innocent in themſelves; they would ſtill degrade, vilify, and ſink, thoſe who practiſed them; would obſtrućt their riſing in the world, by debaſing their charaćters; and give them a low turn of mind and manners, abſolutely inconſiſtent with their making any figure in upper life and great buſineſs. What I have now ſaid, together with your own good ſenſe, is, I hope, ſufficient to arm you againſt the ſe- dućtion, the invitations, or the profligate exhortations (for I cannot call them temptations) of thoſe unfor- tunate young people. On the other hand, when they would engage you in theſe ſchemes, content yourſelf with a decent but ſteady refuſal; avoid controverſy upon ſuch plain points. You are too young to convert them, and, I truſt, too wiſe to be converted by them. Shun them, not only in reality, but even in appear- ance, if you would be well received in good company; for people will always be ſhy of receiving a man, who comes from a place where the plague rages, let him look ever ſo healthy. There are ſome expreſſions, both in French and Engliſh, and ſome chara&ters, both in thoſe two and in other countries, which have, I dare ſay, miſled many young men to their ruin–Une hom- méte dé%auche, une folie débauche; an agreeable rake, a man, of pleaſure. Theſe are phraſes invented by the 166 Rules for Conduct in ihe ſºorld, &c. wicked and profligate, at once to conceal or excuſe their own vices, and to debauch others. What I have ſaid, with regard to my countrymen in general, does not extend to them all without excep- tion; there are ſome who have both merit and man- mers. Your friend, Mr. Stevens, is among the latter, and I approve of your conneétion with him. You may happen to meet with ſome others, whoſe friendſhip may be of great uſe to you hereafter, either from their fuperior talents, or their rank and fortune; cultivate them : but then I. deſire that Mr. Harte may be the judge of thoſe perſons. * Adieu, my dear child ! Confider ſeriouſly the im- portance of the two next years, to your charaćter, your figure, and your fortune. - --sºmim-- sº LETTER LXXII. . . zº Rules for Conduct in the great and busy World...Coolness and Self-command...Perseverance in Business... Boris Mois. DE AR #6 Y, - ...’ London, May the 22d. I RECOMMENDED to you, in my laſt, ſome cau- tions againſt adopting the paſſions and vices of others. Let me now put you a little on your guard againſt your own. There are many little points of condućt which are neceſſary in the courſe of the world, and which he who pračtiſes the earlieſt, will pleaſe the moſt, and riſe the ſooneſt. The ſpirits and vivacity of youth are apt to neglećt them as uſeleſs, or rejećt them as trouble- ſome. But ſubſequent knowledge, and experience of the world, remind us of their importance, commonly when it is too late. The principal of theſe things, is the maſtery of one's temper, and that coolneſs of mind, and ſerenity of countenance, which hinders us from diſcovering, by words, ačtions, or even looks, thoſe paſſions or ſentiments, by which we are inwardly moved or agitated; and the diſcovery of which gives cooler and abler people ſuch infinite advantage overus, not only in great buſineſs, but in all the moſt common occurrences of life. A man who does not poſſeſs him- , Coolness and Self-Command, r &c. - ró7 - felf enough to hear diſagreeable things withoutiviſible marks of anger and change of countenancé, grºagree- able ones without ſudden burſts of joy, and expanſion of countenance, is at the mercy of every artful knave, or pert coxcomb : the former will provoke or pleaſe you by deſign, to catch unguarded words or looks; by which he will eaſily decypher the ſecrets of your heart; of which you ſhould keep the key yourſelf, and truſt, it with no man living. The latter will, by his abſurdity, and without intending it, produce the ſame diſcoveries, of which other people will avail themſelves. You will ſay, poſſibly, that this coolneſs muſt be conſtitutional, and conſequently does not depend upon the will; and I will allow that conſtitution has ſome power over us; but I will maintain, too, that people very often, to excuſe themſelves, very unjuſtly accuſe their conſtitu- tions. Care and refleótion, if properly uſed, will get the better; and a man may as ſurely get a habit of letting his reaſon prevail over his conſtitution, as of letting, as moſt people do, the latter prevail over the former. If you find yourſelf ſubjećt to ſudden ſtarts of paſſion, or madneſs (for I ſee no difference be- tween them, but in their duration), reſolve within your- ſelf, at leaſt, never to ſpeak, one word, while you feel that emotion within you. Determine, too, to keep your countenance as unmoved and unembarraſſed as poſſible; which ſteadineſs you may get a habit of, by conſtant attention. This is ſo neceſſary at ſome games, fuch as berlan, quinze, &c. that a man who had not the command of his temper, and countenance, would in- fallibly be undone by thoſe who had, even though they played fair; and in political buſineſs, you always play with ſharpers, to whom, at leaſt, you ſhould give no fair advantages. . . . Make yourſelf abſolute maſter, therefore, of your temper, and your countenance; ſo far, at leaſt, as that no viſible change do appear in either, whatever you may feel inwardly. This may be difficuit, but it is by no means impoſſible; and, as a man of ſenſe never at- tempts impoſſibilities on one hand, on the other he is never diſcouraged by diſficulties: on the contrary, he redoubles his induſtry and his diligence, he perſeveres, 168 Perseverance in Business...Bons Mots. and infallibly prevails at laſt. In any point, which prudence bids you purſue, and which a manifeſt utility attends, let difficulties only animate your induſtry, not deter you from the purſuit. If one way has failed, try another; be ačtive, perſevere, and you will conquer. The time ſhould likewiſe be judiciouſly choſen: every man has his mollia tempora, but that is far from being all day long; and you would chuſe your time very ill, if you applied to a man about one buſineſs, when his head was full of another, or when his heart was full of grief, anger, or any other diſagreeable ſentiment. In order to judge of the inſide of others, ſtudy your own; for men in general are very much alike ; and though one has one prevailing paſſion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the ſame ; and whatever engages or diſguſts, pleaſes or offends you, in others, will, mutatis mutandis, engage, diſguſt, pleaſe, or offend others, in you. Obſerve, with the utmoſt at- tention, all the operations of your own mind, the na- ture of your paſſions, and the various motives that de- termine your will ; and you may, in a great degree, know all mankind. For inſtance; do you find your- ſelf hurt and mortified, when another makes you feel his ſuperiority, and your own inferiority, in know- ledge, parts, rank, or fortune You will certainly take great care not to make a perſon, whoſe good will, good word, intereſt, eſteem, or friendſhip, you would gain, feel that ſuperiority in you, in caſe you have it. If diſagreeable infinuations, ſly ſneers, or repeated con- tradićtions, teaze and irritate you, would you uſe them, where you wiſhed to engage and pleaſe ? Surely not ; and I hope you wiſh to engage and pleaſe, al- moſt univerſally. The temptation of ſaying a ſmart or witty thing, or bon mot, and the malicious applauſe with which it is commonly received, has made people who can ſay them, and ſtill oftener people who think they can, but cannot, and yet try, more enemies, and implacable ones too, than any one other thing that I know of. When ſuch things, then, ſhall happen to be ſaid at your expenſe (as ſometimes they certainly will) refle&t ſeriouſly upon the ſentiments of uneaſineſs, anger, and reſentinent, which they excite in you ; and Observations on Penice. ... [69 -confider whether it can be prudent, by the ſame means, to excite the ſame ſentiments in others, againſt you. It is a decided folly, to loſe a friend for a jeſt; but, in my mind, it is not a much leſs degree of folly, to make an enemy of an indifferent, and neutral perſon, for the ſake of a bon mot. When things of this kind happen to be ſaid of you, the moſt prudent way is to ſeem not to . ſuppoſe that they are meant at you, but to avoid ſhow- ing whatever degree of anger you may feel inwardly; and, ſhould they be ſo plain, that you cannot be ſup- poſed ignorant of their meaning, to join in the laugh of the company againſt yourſelf; acknowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jeſt a good one, and play off the whole thing in ſeeming good-humour: but by no means reply in the ſame way; which only ſhows that you are hurt, and publiſhes the vićtory which you might have concealed. - - As the female part of the world has ſome influence, and often too much, over the male, your condućt with regard to women (I mean women of charaćter, for I cannot ſuppoſe you capable of converſing with any others) deſerves ſome ſhare in your refle&tions. They are a numerous and loquacious body: their hatred would be more prejudicial, than their friendſhip can be advantageous to you. - This torn ſheet, which I did not obſerve when I be- gan upon it, as it alters the figure, ſhortens too the length of my letter. It may very well afford it: my anxiety for you carries me inſenſibly to theſe lengths, - . God bleſs you, child ! LETTER LXXIII. Observations on Venice...Music...The Fine Arts. DEAR box, London, June the 22d. THE outfide of your. letter of the 7th, dire&ted by your own hand, gave me more pleaſure than the in- ſide of any other letter ever did. I approve of your going to Venice, as much as I diſ- approved of your going to jºiniana. 17 O Penice...Music...The Fine Arts. The time you will probably paſs at Venice, will al- low you to make yourſelf maſter of that intricate and fingular form of government, of which few of our tra- vellers know any thing. Read, aſk, and ſee every that is relative to it. There are, likewiſe, many valu- able remains of the remoteſt antiquity, and many fine pieces of the antico moderno; all which deſerve a different ſort of attention from that which your country- men commonly give them. . They go to ſee them, as they go to ſee the lions, and kings on horſeback, at the Tower here—only to ſay that they have ſeen them. You will, I am ſure, view them in another light; you will confider them as you would a poem, to which in- deed they are akin. You will obſerve, whether the ſculptor has animated his ſtone, or the painter his can- vas, into the juſt expreſſion of thoſe ſentiments and paſſions, which ſhould charaćteriſe and mark their ſeveral figures. You will examine, likewiſe, whether, in their groupes, there be an unity of ačtion, or proper relation; a truth of dreſs and manners. Sculpture and painting are very juſtly called liberal arts; a lively and ſtrong imagination, together with a juſt obſerva- tion, being abſolutely neceſſary to excel in either: which, in my opinion, is by no means the caſe of muſic, though called a liberal art, and now in Italy placed even above the other two: a proof of the decline of that country. The Venetian ſchool produced many great painters, ſuch as Paul Veroneſe, Titian, Palma, &c. by whom you will ſee, as well in private houſes as in churches, very fine pieces. The Laſt Supper, by Paul Veroneſe, in the church of St. George, is reckon- ed his capital performance, and deſerves your attention; as does alſo the famous pićture of the Cornaro family, by Titian. A taſte of ſculpture and painting is, in my mind, as becoming, as a taſte of fiddling and piping is unbecoming a man of faſhion. The former is con- ne&ted with Hiſtory and Poetry; the latter, with no- thing, that I know of, but bad company. - [ 171 J LETTER LXXIV. Knowledge of the IP'orld... Dignity of Manners...Flattery... Pulgar Language.... Frivolous Curiosity.... Decorum... Courts. D EAR BOY, London, Auguſt the i ()th. LET us reſume our refle&tions upon men, their cha- raēters, their manners; in a word, our refle&tions upon the world. They may help you to form yourſelf, and to know others. A knowledge very uſeful at all ages, very rare at yours: it ſeems as if it was nobody’s buſineſs to communicate it to young men. Their ma- ſters teach them, fingly, the languages, or the ſciences of their ſeveral departments; and are indeed generally incapable of teaching them the world: their parents are often ſo too, or at leaſt negle&t doing it; either from avocations, indifference, or from an opinion, that throwing them into the world (as they call it) is the beſt way of teaching it them. . This laſt notion is in a great degree true; that is, the world can doubtleſs never be well known by theory; praćtice is abſolutely neceſſary : but ſurely it is of great uſe to a young man, before he ſets out for that country, full of mazes, windings, and turnings, to have at leaſt a general map of it, made by ſome experienced traveller. - There is a certain dignity of manners abſolutely ne- ceſſary, to make even the moſt valuable charaćter either reſpected or reſpectable. - Horſe-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiſcriminate familiarity, will ſink both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compoſe at moſt a merry fellow ; and a merry fellow was never yet a reſpećtable man. Indiſcriminate familiarity either offends your ſuperi- ors, or elſe dubbs you their dependent, and led cap- tain. It gives your inferiors, juiſt, but troubleſome and improper claims of equality. A joker is near akin' to a buffoon ; and neither of them is the leaſt related to wit. Whoever is admitted or ſought for, in Company, upon any other account than that of his merit and man- ners, is never reſpected tºº, but only made uſe of. -. 2. º : , - * * 4 * 172 Flattery...Pulgar Language... Frivolous Curiosity, Śe. We will have ſuch-a-one, for he fings prettily; we will invite ſuch-a-one to a ball, for he dances well; we will have ſuch a-one at ſupper, for he is always joking and laughing; we will aſk another, becauſe he plays deep at all games, or becauſe he can drink a great deal. Theſe are all vilifying diſtinétions, mortifying prefe- rences, and exclude all ideas of eſteem and regard. Whoever is had (as it is called) in company, for the fake of any one thing fingly, is fingly that thing, and will never be conſidered in any other light; confe- quently never reſpected, let his merits be what they will. This dignity of manners, which I recommend ſo much to you, is not only as different from pride, as true courage is from bluſtering, or true wit from jok- ing; but is abſolutely inconſiſtent with it; for nothing , viiifies and degrades more than pride. The preten- fions of the proud man are oftener treated with ſneer and contempt, than with indignation : as we offer ridi- culouſly too little to a tradeſman, who aſks ridiculouſly too much for his goods; but we do not haggle with ene who only aſks a juſt and reaſonable price. Abjećt flattery and indiſcriminate aſſentation degrade, as much as indiſcriminate contradićtion and noiſy de- bate diſguſt. But a modeſt affºrtion of one's own opinion, and a complaiſant acquieſcence in other peo- ple's, preſerve dignity. - vulgar, low expreſſions, awkward motions and ad- dreſs, vilify, as they imply, either a very low turn of mind, or low education, and low company. & Frivolous curioſity about trifles, and a laborious at- tention to little objećts, which neither require nor de- ferve a moment’s thought, lower a man; who from thence is thought (and not unjuſtly) incapable of greater matters. Cardinal de Retz, very ſagaciouſly, marked out cardinal Chigi for a little mind, from the moment that he told him he had written three years with the ſame pen, and that it was an excellent good one ſtill. A certain degree of exterior ſeriouſneſs in looks, and motions, gives dignity, without excluding wit and de- cent cheerfulneſs, which are always ſerious themſelves. A conſtant ſmirk upon the face, and a whiffling ačtivity * Admonitions against a Waste of Time. I 73 of the body, are ſtrong indications of futility. Who- ever is in a hurry, ſhows that the thing he is about is too big for him. Haſte and hurry are very different things. - I have only mentioned ſome of thoſe things which may, and do, in the opinion of the world, lower and ſink charaćters, in other reſpe&ts valuable enough ; but I have taken no notice of thoſe that affeót and ſink the moral charaćters. They are ſufficiently obvious. A man who has patiently been kicked, may as well pre- tend to courage, as a man, blaſted by vices and crimes, may to dignity of any kind. But an exterior decency and dignity of manners will even keep ſuch a man longer from finking, than otherwiſe he would be : of ſuch conſequence is the to trastroy, even though affected and put on Pray read frequently, and with the ut- moſt attention, nay get by heart if you can, that in- comparable chapter in Cicero's offices, upon the to Trgetow, or the decorum. It contains whatever is ne- ceſſary for the dignity of manners. In my next, I will ſend you a general map of courts; a region yet unexplored by you ; but which you are one day to inhabit. The ways are generally crooked and full of turnings, ſometimes ſtrewed with flowers, ſometimes choaked up with briars; rotten ground and deep pits frequently lie concealed under a ſmooth and pleaſing ſurface: all the paths are ſlippery, and every ſlip is dangerous. Senſe and diſcretion muſt accom- pany you at your firſt ſetting out; but, notwithſtanding thoſe, till experience is your guide, you will every now and then ſtep out of your way, or ſtumble. # *-*ºmme- LETTER LXXV. Admonitions against a Iſaste of Time...Humorous Dialogue. DEAR Boy, London, September the 12th. IT ſeems extraordinary, but it is very true, that my anxiety for you increaſes in proportion to the good ac- counts which I receive of you from all hands, My I 3 174 Admonitions against a Waste of Time. wiſhes, and my plan, were to make you ſhine, and diſtinguiſh yourſelf equally in the learned and the po- lite world. Few have been able to do it. Deep learn- ing is generally tainted with pedantry, or at leaſt un- adorned by manners; as, on the other hand, polite manners, and the turn of the world, are too often un- ſupported by knowledge, and conſequently end con- temptibly, in the frivolous diſſipation of drawing-rooms and ruelles. You are now got over the dry and difficult parts of learning; what remains, requires much more time than trouble. You have loſt time by your illneſs; you muſt regain it now or never, I therefore moſt earneſtly deſire, for your own ſake, that for theſe next fix months, at leaſt ſix hours every morning, uninter- ruptedly, may be inviolably ſacred to your ſtudies with Mr. Harte. I do not knew whether he will require ſo much, but I know that I do, and hope you will, and conſequently prevail with him to give you that time: I own it is a good deal; but when both you and he con- ſider, that the work will be ſo much better, and ſo much ſooner done, by ſuch an affiduous and continued application, you will neither of you think it too much, and each will find his account in it. So much for the mornings, which, from your own good ſenſe, and Mr. Harte's tenderneſs and care of you, will, I am ſure, be thus well employed. It is not only reaſonable, but uſeful too, that your evenings ſhould be devoted to amuſements and rational pleaſures; with this reſtrićtion only, that the conſequences of the evenings' diverſions may not break in upon the mornings' ſtudies, by break- faſtings, viſits, and idle parties into the country. At your age, you need not be aſhamed, when any of theſe morning parties are propoſed, to ſay you muſt beg to be excuſed, for you are obliged to devote your morn- ings to Mr. Harte; that I will have it ſo ; and that you dare not do otherwiſe, Lay it all upon me; though I am perſuaded it will be as much your own inclination as it is mine. But thoſe frivolous, idle people, whoſe time hangs upon their own hands, and who deſire to make others loſe theirs too, are not to be reaſoned with ; and indeed it would be doing them too much honour. The ſhorteſt, civil anſwers, are the beſt;-I cannot, I IIumorous Dialogue. I75 dare not, inſtead of I will not ; for, if you were to enter with them into the neceſſity of ſtudy, and the uſefulneſs of knowledge, it would only, furniſh them with matter for their filly jeſts; which, though I would not have you mind, I would not have you invite. I will ſuppoſe you at Rome, ſtudying fix hours uninter- ruptedly with Mr. Harte, every morning, and paſſing your evenings with the beſt company of Rome, ob- ſerving their manners and forming your own; and I will ſuppoſe a number of idle, ſauntering, illiterate Engliſh, as there commonly is there, living entirely with one another, ſupping, drinking, and fitting up late at each other's lodgings; commonly in riots and ſcrapes when drunk; and never in good company when ſober. I will take one of theſe pretty fellows, and give you the dialogue between him and yourſelf; ſuch as I dare ſay it will be on his ſide, and ſuch as I hope it will be on yours. Engliſhman. Will you come and breakfaſt with me to-morrow ; there will be four or five of our country- men; we have provided chaiſes, and we will drive formewhere out of town after breakfaſt 2 Stanhope. I am very ſorry I cannot; but I am obliged to be at home all morning. *- Engliſhman. Why then we will come and breakfaſt with you. Stanhope. I can't do that neither, I am engaged. Engliſhman. Well then, let it be the next day. t Stanhope. To tell you the truth, it can be no day in the morning; for I neither go out, nor ſee any-body at home before twelve. Engliſhman. And what the devil do you do with ..yourſelf till twelve o'clock.” - Stanhope. I am not by myſelf, I am with Mr. Harte. hi Engliſhman. Then what the devil do you do with him f Stanhope. We ſtudy different things; we read, we converſe. - Engliſhman. Very pretty amuſement indeed Are you to take orders then P i I 4 } | 6 Humorous Dialogue. º Yes, my father's orders, I believe I muſt take. Engliſhman. ...Why haſt thou no more ſpirit, than to mind an old fellow a thouſand miles off Stanhope. If I don't mind his orders, he won't mind my draughts. Engliſhman. ... What does the old prig threaten, then Threatened folks live long; never mind threats. Stanhope. No, I can't ſay that he has ever threatened me in his life; but I believe I had beſt not provoke him. Engliſhman. Pooh! you would have one angry letter from the old fellow, and there would be an end of it. Stanhope. You miſtake him mightily; he always does more than he ſays. He has never been angry with me yet, that I remember, in his life: but if I was to provoke him, I am ſure he would never forgive me: he would be cooly immoveable, and I might beg and *pray, and write my heart out to no purpoſe. Engliſhman. Why then he is an odd dog, that's all I can ſay: and pray, are you to obey your dry-nurſe too, this fame, what’s his name—Mr. Harte Stanhope. Yes. Engliſhman. So he ſtuffs you all morning with Greek, and Latin, and logic, and all that. Egad!, I have a dry-nurſe too; but I never looked into a book with him in my life: I have not ſo much as ſeen the face of him this week, and don’t care a louſe if I never ſee it again. s Stanhope. My dry-nurſe never defires any thing of me that is not reaſonable, and for my own good; and the efore I like to be with him. Engliſhman. Very ſententious and edifying, upon my word . At this rate you will be reckoned a very good young man. t Stanhope. Why, that will do me no harm. Engliſhman. Will you be with us to-morrow in the evening, then We ſhall be ten with you; and I have got ſome excellent good wine; and we’ll be very merry. Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am engaged for all the evening, to-morrow ; firſt at car- * Humorous Dialogue. 177 dinal Albani's ; and then to ſup at the Venetian em- baſſadreſs’s. , Engliſhman. How the devil can you like being al- ways with theſe foreigners ?, I never go amongſt them, with all their formalities and ceremonies. I am never eaſy in company with them, and I don't know why, but I am aſhamed. Stanhope. I am neither aſhamed nor afraid ; I am very eaſy with them ; they are very eaſy with me; I get the language, and I ſee their charaćters, by con- verſing with them; and that is what we are ſent abroad. for. Is it not Engliſhman. I hate your modeſt women’s company; your women of faſhion as they call 'em. I don’t know what to ſay to them, for my part. Stanhope. Have you ever converſed with them? Engliſhman. No. I never converſed with them; . but I have been ſometimes in their company, though much againſt my will. Stanhope. But at leaſt they have done you no hurt; . which is, probably, more than you can ſay of the wo- men you do converſe with. Engliſhman. That’s true, I own; but for all that, I would rather keep company with my ſurgeon half the year, than with your women of faſhion the year. round. Stanhope. Taſtes are different, you know, and every." man follows his own. Engliſhman. That’s true; but thine's a deviliſh odd one, Stanhope. All morning with thy dry-nurſe; all the evening in formal fine company; and all day long afraid of old daddy in England. Thou art a queer fellow, and I am afraid there’s nothing to be made of thee. Stanhope. I am afraid ſo too. Engliſhman. Well, then, good-night to you : you have no objećtion, I hope, to my being drunk to-night, which I certainly will be. ‘Stanhope. Not in the leaſt; nor to your being fick to-morrow, which you as certainly will be;—and ſo good-night too. - I 5 J78 Absence of Mind in Company. You will obſerve, that I have not put into your mouth thoſe good arguments, which upon ſuch an oc- caſion would, I am ſure, occur to you; as piety and af. feótion toward me ; regard and friendſhip for Mr. Harte; reſpect for your own moral charaćter, and for all the relative duties of man, ſon, pupil, and citizen. Such ſolid arguments would be thrown away upon ſuch ſhallow puppies. Leave them to their ignorance, and to their dirty, diſgraceful vices. They will ſeverely feel the effects of them, when it will be too late. With- out the comfortable refuge of learning, and with all the fickneſs and pains of a ruined ſtomach, and a rotten carcaſe, if they happen to arrive at old age, it is an un- eaſy and ignominious one. The ridicule which ſuch fellows endeavour to throw upon thoſe who are not like them, is, in the opinion of all men of ſenſe, the moſt authentic panegyric. Go on, then, my dear child, in the way you are in, only for a year and a half more; that is all I aſk of you. After that, I promiſe that you ſhall be your own maſter, and that I will pre- tend to no other title than that of your beſt and trueſt friend. You ſhall receive advice, but no orders, from me; and in truth you will want no other advice but ſuch as youth and inexperience muſt neceſſarily require. You ſhall certainly want nothing, that is requiſite, not only for your conveniency, but alſo for your pleaſures, which I always defire ſhould be gratified. You will ſuppoſe that I mean the pleaſures of a rational being. -*Eºmm- LETTER LXXVI.e. Absence of Mind in Company...Carelessness in Manner and Dress...Description of an awkward Pérson. DEAR Bo Y, •" London, September the 22d. IF I had faith in philters and love potions, I ſhould ſuſpect that you had given Sir Charles Williams ſome, by the manner in which he ſpeaks of you, not only to me, but to every body elſe. You will eaſily ima- ine how many queſtions I aſked, and how narrow- iy I fifted him upon your ſubjećt he anſwered me, & Absence of Mind in Company. i79 and I dare ſay with truth, juſt as I could have wiſhed; till, ſatisfied entirely with his accounts of your charac- ter and learning, I inquired into other matters, intrin- fically indeed of leſs conſequence, but ſtill of great conſequence to every man, and of more to you than to almoſt any man; I mean, your addreſs, manners, and air. To theſe queſtions, the ſame truth which he had obſerved before obliged him to give me much leſs ſa- tisfactory anſwers. And, as he thought himſelf, in friendſhip both to you and me, obliged to tell me the diſagreeable, as well as the agreeable truths; upon the fame principle, I think myſelf obliged to repeat them to you. He told me then, that in company you were fre- quently moſt provokingly inattentive, abſent, and diſ. trait. That you came into a room, and preſented yourſelf very awkwardly; that at table you conſtantly threw down knives, forks, napkins, bread, &c, and that you negle&ted your perſon and dreſs, to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much more ſo at yours. Theſe things, how immaterial ſoever they may ſeem to people who do not know the world, and the nature of mankind, give me, who know them to be exceed- ingly material, very great concern. I have long diſ- truſted you, and therefore frequently admoniſhed you, upon theſe articles; and I tell you plainly, that I ſhall not be eaſy, till I hear a very different account of them. I know no one thing more offenſive to a company, than that inattention and diſtraćtion. It is ſhowing them the utmoſt contempt; and people never forgive contempt. No man is diſtrait with the man he fears, or the wo- man he loves; which is a proof that every man can get the better of that diſtraćtion, when he thinks it worth his while to do ſo; and, take my word for it, it is al- ways worth his while. For my own part, I would ra- ther be in company with a dead man, than with an ab- ſent one; for if the dead man gives me no pleaſure, at leaſt he ſhows me no contempt; whereas the abſent man, filently indeed, but very plainly, tells me that he does not think me worth his attention. Beſides, can an abſent man make any obſervations upon the charāc-. ters, cuſtoms, and manner, º: the company No. He 180 Carelessness in Manner and Dress. may be in the beſt companies all his life-time (if they will admit him, which, if I were they, I would not). and never be one jot the wiſer. I never will converſe: with an abſent man; one may as well talk to a deaf one, . It is, in truth, a pračtical blunder, to addreſs ourſelves to a man, who, we ſee plainly, neither hears, minds, nor underſtands us. Moreover, I aver that no man is, in any degree, fit for either buſineſs or con- verſation, who cannot, and does not, direét and com- mand his attention to the preſent objećt, be that what it will. You know, by experience, that I grudge no expenſe in your education, but I will poſitively not Reep you a flapper. You may read, in Dr. Swift, the deſcription of theſe flappers, and the uſe they were of to your friends the Laputans; whoſe minds (Gulliver fays) are ſo taken up with intenſe ſpeculations, that they, neither can ſpeak, nor attend to the diſcourſes of others, without being rouſed by ſome external tačtion upon the organs of ſpeech and hearing; for which reaſon, thoſe people who are able to afford it, always keep a flapper in their families, as one of their domeſtics; nor ever walk about, or make viſits, without him. This flapper is likewiſe employed diligently to attend his maſter in his walks; and, upon occaſion, to give a ſoft flap upon his eyes; becauſe he is always ſo wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in manifeſt danger of falling down every precipice, and bouncing his head againſt every poſt, and, in the ſtreets, of joſtling others, or being joſtled into the kennel himſelf. If Chriſtian will un- dertake this province into the bargain, with all my heart; but I will not allow him any increaſe of wages upon that ſcore. In ſhort, I give you. fair warning, that, when we meet, if you are abſent in mind, I will foon be abſent in body; for it will be impoſiible for me to ſtay in the room ; and if, at table, you throw down your knife, plate, bread, &c. and hack the wing of a chicken for half an hour, without being able to cut it off, and your ſleeve all the time in another diſh, I muſt riſe from table to eſcape the fever you would cer- tainly give me. How I ſhould be ſhocked, if you came into my room, for the firſt time, with two left legs, preſenting yourſelf with all the graces and dignity of a Description of an awkward Person. 181 taylor, and your cloaths hanging upon you, like thoſe in Monmouth-ſtreet upon tenterhooks; whereas I ex- pećt, nay require to ſee you preſent yourſelf with the eaſy and genteel air of a man of faſhion, who has kept good company. I expečt you not only well dreſſed, but very well dreſſed : I expect a gracefulneſs in all your motions, and ſomething particularly engaging in your dreſs. All this I expect, and all this it is in your power, by care and attention, to make me find; but, to tell you the plain truth, if I do not find it, we ſhall not converſe very much together; for I cannot ſtand inattention and awkwardneſs; it would endanger my health. You have often ſeen, and I have as often made "you obſerve L **'s diſtinguiſhed inattention and awk- wardneſs. Wrapped up, like a Laputan, in intenſe thought, and poſſibly, ſometimes, in no thought at all. (which, I believe, is very often the caſe of abſent peo- ple), he does not know his moſt intimate acquaintance by fight, but anſwers them as if he was at croſs-pur- poſes. He leaves his hat in one room, his ſword in another, and would leave his ſhoes in a third, if his buckles, though awry, did not ſave them: his legs and arms, by his awkward management of them, ſeem to have undergone the queſtion extraordinary; and his head always hanging upon one or other of his ſhoulders, ſeems to have received the firſt ſtroke upon a block. É ſincerely value and eſteem him for his parts, learning, and virtue; but, for the ſoul of me, I cannot love him in company. A young fellow ſhould be ambitious to ſhine in every thing; and, of the two, always rather overdo than underdo, I ſhould be ſorry you were an egregi- ous fop ; but, I proteſt, that, of the two, I would rather have you a fop than a ſloven. I think negligence in my own dreſs, even at my age, when certainly I expect no advantages from my dreſs, would be indecent with regard to others. I have done with fine clothes; but I will have my plain clothes fit me, and made like other people's. In the evenings, I recommend to you the company of women of faſhion, who have a right to attention. Their company will ſmooth your manners, and give you a habit of attention and reſpect; of which you will find the advantage among men. # ( 18? ) LETTER LXXVII. Pulgarity how acquired...Description of a vulgar Person ...Vulgar Language...Trite and proverbial Expressions... Travelling in Italy. DE.A.R. Bo Y, London, September the 27th. A VULGAR, ordinary way of thinking, aćting, or ſpeaking, implies a low education, and a habit of low company. Young people contraćt it at ſchool, or annong ſervants, with whom they are too often uſed to converſe; but, after they frequent good company, they muſt want attention and obſervation very much, if they do not lay it quite afide. And indeed, if they do not, good company will be very apt to lay them aſide. The various kinds of vulgariſms are infinite; I cannot pretend to point them out to you; but I will É. ſome ſamples, by which you may gueſs at the Jº Cit. A vulgar man is captious and jealous; eager and im- petuous about trifles. He ſuſpećts himſelf to be ſlight- ed, thinks every thing that is ſaid meant at him : if the company happens to laugh, he is perſuaded they laugh at him; he grows angry and teſty, ſays ſomething very impertinent, and draws himſelf into a ſcrape, by ſhow- ing what he calls a proper ſpirit, and aſſerting himſelf. A man of faſhion does not ſuppoſe himſelf to be either the ſole or principal objećt of the thoughts, looks, or words of the company; and never ſuſpects that he is either ſlighted or laughed at, unleſs he is conſcious that he deſerves it. And if (which very ſeldom happens) the company is abſurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he does not care two-pence, unleſs the inſult be ſo groſs and plain as to require ſatisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them; and, wherever they are concerned, rather acquieſces than wrangles. A vulgar man’s con- verſation always ſavours ſtrongly of the lowneſs of his education and company. It turns chiefly upon his do- meſtic affairs, his ſervants, the excellent order he keeps in his own family, and the little anecdotes of the neigh- * Pulgar Language...Trite Expressions, &c. 183 bourhood; all which he relates with emphaſis, as in- tereſting matters. He is a man goffip. Vulgariſm in language is the next, and diſtinguiſhing charaćteriſtic of bad company, and a bad education. A man of faſhion avoids nothing with more care than that. Proverbial expreſſions, and trite ſayings, are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he ſay, that men differ in their taſtes; he both ſupports and adorns that opinion, by the good old ſaying, as he reſpectfully calls it, that “What is one man's meat is another man's poi- ſon.” If any body attempts being “ſmart,” as he calls it, upon him; he gives him “tit for tat,-aye that he does.' . He has always ſome favourite word for the time being; which, for the ſake of uſing often, he commonly abuſes. Such as vaſtly angry, vaſtly kind, vaſtly handſome, and vaſtly ugly. Even his pronunciation of proper words carries the mark of the beaſt along with it. . He calls the earth yearth; he is obleiged, not obliged to you. He goes to wards, and not towards ſuch a place. He ſometimes affe&ts hard words, by way of ornament, which he always mangles like a learned woman. A man of faſhion never has recourſe to proverbs, and vulgar aphoriſms; uſes neither favourite words nor hard words; but takes great care to ſpeak very correótly and grammatically, and to pronounce-properly; that is, ac- cording to the uſage of the beſt companies. - An awkward addreſs, ungraceful attitudes and ačtions, and a certain left-handineſs (if I may uſe that word), loudly proclaim low education and low company; for it is impoſſible to ſuppoſe that a man can have frequent- ed good company, without having caught ſomething, at leaſt, of their air and motions. A new-raiſed man is diſtinguiſhed in a regiment by his awkwardneſs; but he muſt be impenetrably dull, if, in a month or two's time, he cannot perform at leaſt the common manual exerciſe, and look like a ſoldier. The very accoutre- ments of a man of faſhion are grievous incumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loſs what to do with his hat, when it is not upon his head; his cane (if unfor- tunately he wears one) is at perpetual war with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks; deſtroys them firſt, 184 Olyects of rational Inquiry to a Traveller. , and then accompanies them in their fall. His ſword is formidable only to his own legs, which would poſ- fibly carry him faſt enough out of the way of any ſword but his own. His clothes fit him ſo ill, and conſtrain, him ſo much, that he ſeems rather their priſoner than their proprietor. He preſents himſelf in company, like a criminal in a court of juſtice; his very air con- demns him ; and people of faſhion will no more con- neét themſelves with the one, than people of charaćter will with the other. This repulſe drives and ſinks him into low company; a gulf whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged. You are travelling now in a country once ſo famous both for arts and arms, that (however degenerated at preſent) it ſtill deſerves yóur attention and refle &tion. View it therefore with care, compare its former with its preſent ſtate, and examine into the cauſes of its riſe, ‘and its decay. Confider it claſſically and politically, and do not run through it, as too many of your young countrymen do, muſically, and (to uſe a ridiculous word) knickknackically. No piping or fiddling, I be- ſeech you; no days loſt in poring upon almoſt imper- ceptible intaglios and cameos : and do not become a vir- tuoſo of ſmall wares. Form a taſte of painting, ſculp- ture, and archite&ture, if you pleaſe, by a careful exa- mination of the works of the beſt ancient and modern, artiſts; thoſe are liberal arts, and a real taſte and know- ledge of them become a man of faſhion very well. But, beyond certain bounds, the man of taſte ends, and the frivolous virtuoſo begins. -vºm- LETTER LXXVIII. Oljects of rational Inquiry to a Traveller...Architecture... Painting and Sculpture, Yº EAR Hoy, London, Oétober the 17th. I HAVE, at laſt, received Mr. Harte's letter of the 19th September, from Verona. Your reaſons for leav- ing that place were very good ones; and, as you ſtaid Objects of Inquiry...Architecture, &c. I85 there tong enough to ſee what was to be ſeen, Venice is, in my opinion, a much better place for your refi- dence. - I am very well pleaſed with your account of Carnio- la: thoſe are the kind of objećts worthy of your inqui- ries and knowledge. The produce, the taxes, the trade, the manufaātures, the ſtrength, the weakneſs, the government, of the ſeveral countries, which a man of ſenſe travels through, are the material points to which he attends; and leaves the ſteeples, the market- places, and the ſigns, to the laborious and curious re- ſearches of Dutch and German travellers. Mr. Harte tells me, that he intends to give you, by means of ſignor Vicentini, a general notion of civil and military, archite&ture; with which I am very well pleaſ- ed. They are frequent ſubjećts of converſation; and it is very right that you ſhould have ſome idea of the latter, and a good taſte of the former; and you may very ſoon learn as much as you need know of either. If you read about one-third of Palladio’s Book of Ar- chite&ture, with ſome ſkilful perſon, and then, with that perſon, examine the beſt buildings by thoſe rules, you will know the different proportions of the different or- ders; the ſeveral diameters of their columns; their in- tercolumniations; their ſeveral uſes, &c. The Corin- thian order is chiefly uſed in magnificent buildings, where ornament and decoration are the principal ob- jećts; the Doric is calculated for ſtrength; and the Ionic partakes of the Doric ſtrength and of the Corin- thian ornaments. The Compoſite and the Tuſcan orders are more modern, and were unknown to the Greeks: the one is too light, the other too clumſy. You may ſoon be acquainted with the confiderable parts of civil archite&ture; and for the minute and mechanical parts of it, leave them to maſons, bricklayers, and lord But- lington, who has, to a certain degree, leſſened himſelf, by knowing them too well. Obſerve the ſame method as to military archite&ture: underſtand the terms: know the general rules, and then ſee them in execution with ſome ſkilful perſon. Go with ſome engineer, or old officer, and view, with care, the real fortifications of ſome ſtrong place; and you will get a clearer idea of 186 General Piew of a good Education. baſtions, half-moons, horn-works, ravelins, glacis, &c. than all the maſters in the world could give you upon paper. And thus much I would, by all means, have you know of both civil and military archite&ture. 1 would alſo have you acquire a liberal taſte of the two liberal arts of painting and ſculpture; but with- out deſcending into thoſe minutiae, which our modern virtuoſi moſt affectedly dwell upon. Obſerve the great parts attentively ; ſee if nature is truly repreſented; if the paſſions are ſtrongly expreſſed ; if the charaćters are preſerved; and leave the trifling parts, with their little jargon, to affeóted puppies. I would adviſe you, alſo, to read the hiſtory of the painters and ſculptors; and I know none better than Felibien's. There are many in Italian; you will inform yourſelf which are the beſt. It is a part of hiſtory, very entertaining, curious enough, and not quite uſeleſs. All theſe ſort of things I would have you know, to a certain degree; but remember, that they muſt only be the amuſements, and not the buſineſs of a man of parts. *** – - LETTER LXXIX. General Piew of a good Education...Principles of Pirtue... Learning...Good-Breeding...Ease... Equality...Civility to Inferiors. r DEAR Boy, London, November the 3d. FROM the time that you have had life, it has been the principal and favourite objećt of mine, to make you as perfeót as the imperfeótions of human-nature will allow : in this view, I have grudged no pains nor ex- penſe in your education; convinced that education, more than nature, is the cauſe of that great difference which we ſee in the chara&ters of men. While you were a child, I endeavoured to form your heart habi- tually to virtue and honour, before your underſtanding was capable of ſhowing you their beauty and utility. Thoſe principles, which you then got, like your gram- mar rules, only by rote, are now, I am perſuaded, fixed and confirmed by reaſon. And indeed they are ſo plain f • *. *s Principles of Pirtue...Learning...Good-Breeding. 187 and clear, that they require but a very moderate degree of underſtanding, either to comprehend or pračtiſe them. Lord Shafteſbury ſays, very prettily, that he would be virtuous for his own ſake though nobody were to know it; as he would be clean for his own ſake, though nobody were to ſee him. I have therefore, ſince you have had the uſe of your reaſon, never written to you upon thoſe ſubjećts: they ſpeak beſt for themſelves; and I ſhould now, juſt as ſoon think of warning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire, as into diſhonour or vice. This view of mine I confider as fully attain.d. My next objećt was, ſound and uſeful learning. My own care firſt, Mr. Harte's afterwards, and of late (1 will own it to your praiſe) your own application, have more than anſwered my expe&tations in that particular; and, I have reaſon to believe, will anſwer even my wiſhes. All that remains for me then to wiſh, to recommend, to inculcate, to order, and to inſiſt upon, is good-breed- ing; without which, all your other qualifications will be lame, unadorned, and, to a certain degree, unavail- ing. And here I fear, and have too much reaſon to be- lieve, that you are greatly deficient. The remainder of this letter, therefore, ſhall be upon this ſubjećt. A friend of yours and mine has very juſtly defined good-breeding to be, the reſult of much good-ſenſe, ſome good-nature, and a little ſelf-denial for the ſake of others, and with a view to obtain the ſame indul- gence from them. Taking this for granted (as I think it cannot be diſputed), it is aſtoniſhing to me, that any body, who has good-ſenſe and good-nature (and I be- lieve you have both), can eſſentially fail in good-breed- ing. As to the modes of it, indeed, they vary accord- ing to perſons, places, and circumſtances; and are only to be acquired by obſervation and experience; but the ſubſtance of it is every-where and eternally the ſame. Good manners are, to particular ſocieties, what good morals are to ſociety in general: their cement, and their ſecurity. And, as laws are enaćted to enforce good morals, or at leaſt to prevent the ill effects of bad ones, ſo there are certain rules of civility, univerſally implied and received, to enforce good manners, and puniſh bad ones. And indeed there ſeems to me to be leſs difference, * 188 Good-Breeding...Ease...Equality. toth between the crimes and puniſhments, than at firſt one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades another’s property, is juſtly hanged for it; and the ill- bred man, who by his ill manners invades and diſturbs the quiet and comforts of private life, is by common conſent as juſtly baniſhed ſociety. Mutual complai- ſances, attentions, and ſacrifices of little conveniences, are as natural an implied compaćt between civiliſed People, as protećtion and obedience are between kings and fabjećts: whoever, in either caſe, violates that compaét, juſtly forfeits all advantages ariſing from it. For my own part, I really think, that, next to the con- feiouſneſs of doing a good ačtion, that of doing a civil one is the moſt pleaſing: and the epithet which I ſhould covet the moſt, next to that of Ariſtides, would be that of well-bred. Thus much for good-breeding in general. I will now conſider ſome of the various modes and de- grees of it. - Very few, ſcarcely any, are wanting in the reſpect which they ſhould ſhow to thoſe whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their ſuperiors; ſuch as crowned heads, princes, and public perſons of diſtinguiſhed and emi- nent poſts. It is the manner of ſhowing that reſpect which is different. The man of faſhion, and of the world, expreſſes it in its fulleſt extent; but naturally, eaſily, and without concern: whereas a man, who is not uſed to keep good company, expreſſes it awkwardly; one fees that he is not uſed to it, and that it coſts him a great deal; but I never ſaw the worſt-bred man living, guilty of lolling, whiſtling, ſcratching his head, and ſuch-like indecencies, in company that he reſpected. In ſuch companies, therefore, the only point to be attended to is, to ſhow that reſpect, which every body means to ſhow, in an eaſy, unembarraſſed; and graceful manner. This is what obſervation and experience inuſt teach you. In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for the time at leaſt, ſuppoſed to be upon a footing of equality with the reſt; and, conſe- quently, as there is no one principal objećt of awe and reſpect, people are apt to take a greater latitude in their behaviour, and to be leſs upon their guard; and ſo they may, provided it be within certain bounds, which Good Breeding...Cicility to Inferiors. 189 are upon no occaſion to be tranſgreſſed. But, upon theſe occaſions, though no one is entitled to diſtin- guiſhed marks of reſpect, every one claims, and very juſtly, every mark of civility and good-breeding, Eaſe is allowed, but careleſſneſs and negligence are ſtrićtly forbidden. If a man accoſts you, and talks to you ever ſo dully or frivolouſly, it is worſe than rudeneſs, it is brutality, to ſhow him, by a manifeſt inattention to what he ſays, that you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more ſo with re- gard to women; who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, in confideration of their ſex, not only to an at- tentive, but an officious good breeding from men. Their little wants, likings, diſlikes, preferences, antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impertinences, muſt be offi- ciouſly attended to, flattered, and, if poſſible, gueſſed at and anticipated, by a well-bred man. You muſt never uſurp to yourſelf thoſe conveniences and agrémens which are of common right; ſuch as the beſt places, the beſt diſhes, &c.; but, on the contrary, always de- cline them yourſelf, and offer them to others; who, in in their turns, will offer them to you: ſo that, upon the - whole, you will, in your turn, enjoy your ſhare of the common right. It would be endleſs for me to enu- merate all the particular inſtances in which a well-bred man ſhows his good-breeding in good company; and it would be injurious to you to ſuppoſe, that your own good-ſenſe will not point them out to you; and then your own good-nature will recommend, and your ſelf- intereſt enforce the pračtice. There is a third ſort of good-breeding, in which peo- ple are the moſt apt to fail, from a very miſtaken notion that they cannot fail at all—I mean, with regard to one’s moſt familiar friends and acquaintances, or thoſe who really are our inferiors; and there, undoubtedly, a greater degree of eaſe is not only allowed, but pro- per, and contributes much to the comforts of a private, ſocial life. But that eaſe and freedom have their bounds too, which muſt by no means be violated. A certain degree of negligence and careleſſneſs becomes injurious and inſulting, from the real or ſuppoſed inferiority of . I90 - Good-Breeding, 3e. the perſons: and that delightful liberty of converſation among a few friends, is ſoon deſtroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried to licentiouſneſs. But ex- ample explains things beſt, and I will put a pretty ſtrong caſe. Suppoſe you and me alone together; I believe you will allow that I have as good a right to unlimited freedom in your company, as either you or I can poſſibly have in any other; and I am apt to be- lieve, too, that you would indulge me in that freedom as far as any body would. But, notwithſtanding this, do you imagine that I ſhould think there were no bounds to that freedom I aſſure you, I ſhould not think ſo; and I take myſelf to be as much tied down by a certain degree of good manners, to you, as by other degrees of them to other people. Were I to ſhow you, by a manifeſtinattention to what you ſaid to me, that I was thinking of ſomething elſe the whole time; were I to yawn extremely, ſnore, or break-wind in your company, I ſhould think that I behaved myſelf to you like a beaſt, and ſhould not expect that you would care to frequent me. No : the moſt familiar and intimate habitudes, connections, and friendſhips, require a de- gree of good-breeding, both to preſerve and cement them. If ever a man and his wife, who paſs. nights as well as days together, abſolutely lay aſide all good- breeding, their intimacy will ſoon degenerate into a coarſe familiarity, infallibly produćtive of contempt or diſguſt. The beſt of us have our bad ſides; and it is as imprudent, as it is ill-bred, to exhibit them. I ſhall certainly not uſe ceremony with you; it would be miſ- placed between us; but I ſhall certainly obſerve that degree of good-breeding with you, which is, in the firſt place, decent, and which, I am ſure, is abſolutely neceſſary to make us like one another's company long. I will ſay no more, now, upon this important ſub- jećt of good-breeding; upon which I have already dwelt too long, it may be, for one letter; and upon which I ſhall frequently refreſh your memory here- after : but I ſhall conclude with theſe axioms. That the deepeſt learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome and tireſome pedantry, and of uſe no where / = Of Style in Writing. 191 but in a man's own cloſet: and conſequently of houſe at ali. - - That man, who is not perfeótly well-bred, is unfit for good company, and unwelcorne in it; will conſe- quently diſlike it ſoon, afterwards renounce it; and be reduced to ſolitude, or, what is worſe, to low and bad company. - • * ~ -” That a man, who is not well-bred, is full as unfit for buſineſs as for company. w" * -ºsmºs- LETTER LXXX. Of Style in Writing. .Adcantages of a good Style...Examples - of a bad Style...Cicero and Quintilian. r EAR Bo Y, ^ - London, November the 24th. EVERY rational being (I take it for granted) propoſes to himſelf ſome objećt more important than mere re- ſpiration, and obſcure animal exiſtence. He deſires to diſtinguiſh himſelf among his fellow-creatures; and, alicui negotio intentus, praeclari facinoris, aut artis bonae, famam quarit *. Caeſar, when embarking in a ſtorm, ſaid, that it was not neceſſary he ſhould live; but that it was abſolutely neceſſary he ſhould get to the place to which he was going. And Pliny leaves mankind this only alternative; either of doing what deſerves to be written, or of writing what deſerves to be read. As for thoſe who do neither, eorum vitam mortemque juxta aeſtumo; quomiam de utraque ſºleturf. You have, I am convinced, one or both of theſe objećts in view ; but you muſt know, and uſe the neceſſary means, or your purſuit will be vain and frivolous. In either caſe, ſa- were eſt principium et fons : ; but it is by no means all. "That knowledge muſt be adorned, it muſt have luſtre as well as weight, or it will be oftener taken for lead than for gold. Knowledge you have, and will have: * Intent on ſome obječt, expects fame from a great action, or a liberal art. * - + I account their life and their death of equal importance, ſince nothing is to be ſaid of either. - * # To be wife is the principle and the ſource. 192 Qf Style in Writing...Example of a bad Style. I am eaſy upon that article. . But my buſineſs, as your friend, is not to compliment you upon what you have, but to tell you with freedom what you want; and I muſt tell you plainly, that I fear you want every thing but knowledge. - -- - I have written to you, ſo often, of late, upon good- breeding, addreſs, les manieres liantes 4, the graces, &c. that I ſhall confine this letter to another ſubjećt, pretty near akin to them, and which, I am ſure, you are full as deficient in ;-I mean, ſtyle. - Style is the dreſs of thoughts; and let them be ever ſo juſt, if your ſtyle is homely, coarſe, and vulgar, they will appear to as much diſadvantage, and be as ill received, as your perſon, though ever ſo well propor- tioned, would, if dreſſed in rags, dirt, and tatters. It is not every underſtanding that can judge of matter;. but every ear can and does judge, more or leſs, of ſtyle: and was I either to ſpeak or write to the public, I ſhould prefer moderate matter, adorned with all the beauties and elegancies of ſtyle, to the ſtrongeſt matter in the world, ill-worded, and ill-delivered. 'Your bu- fineſs is, negotiation abroad, and oratory in the Houſe of Commons at home. What figure can you make in either caſe, if your ſtyle be inelegant, I do not ſay bad Imagine yourſelf writing an office-letter to a ſecretary of ſtate, which letter is to be read by the whole Cabinet Council, and, very poſſibly, afterwards, laid before Parliament ; any one barbariſm,' ſoleciſm, or vul- gariſm in it, would, in a very few days, circulate through the whole kingdom, to your diſgrace and ri- dicule. For inſtance, I will ſuppoſe you had written the following letter from the Hague, to the ſecretary of ſtate at London; and leave you to ſuppoſe the confe- quences of it. . My Lo R D, # - - I had, laſt night, the honour of your lordſhip's let- ter, of the 24th ; and will ſet about doing the orders contained therein; and if ſo be that I can get that affair done by the next poſt, I will not fail for to give your lordſhip an account of it by next poff. I have told the * Engaging manners, Examples of a bad Style. 193 . French miniſter, as how, that if that affair be not ſoon concluded, your lordſhip would think it all long of him; and that he muſt have negle&ted for to have wrote to his court about it. I muſt beg leave to put yout lordſhip in mind, as how, that I am now full three quarters in arrear;, and if ſo be that I do not very ſoon receive at leaſt one;half year, I ſhall cut a very bad figure; for this here.place is very dear. I ſhall be vaſily beholden to your łordſhip for that there mark of your favour; and ſo I. reſt, or remain, Yours, &c. You will tell me, poſſibly, that this is a caricatura of an illiberal and inelegant ſtyle: I will admit it ; but aſſure you, at the ſame time, that a diſpatch with leſs than half theſe faults would blow you up for ever. It is by no means ſufficient to be free from faults, in ſpeaking and writing; you muſt do both correótly and . elegantly. In faults of this kind, it is not ille optimus qui minimis urgetur *. But he is unpardonable who has any at all, becauſe it is his own fault. He need only attend to, obſerve, and imitate the beſt authors. It is a very true ſaying, that a man muſt be born a poet, but that he may make himſelf an orator; and the very firſt principle of an orator is, to ſpeak his own. language particularly, with the utmoſt purity and ele- gance. A man will be forgiven, even great errors, in a foreign language; but in his own, even the leaſt ſlips are juſtly laid hold of and ridiculed. A perſon of the Houſe of Commons, ſpeaking, two years ago, upon naval affairs, aſſerted, that we had then the fineſt navy upon the face of the yearth. This happy mixture of blunder and vulgariſm, you may eaſily imagine, was matter of immediate ridicule; but, I can aſſure you, that it continues ſo ſtill, and will be re- membered as long as he lives and ſpeaks. Another, fpeaking in defence of a gentleman, upon whom a cenſure was moved, happily ſaid, that he thought that gentleman was more liable to be thanked and rewarded, than cenſured. You know, I preſume, that liable cau Rever be uſed in a good ſenſe. # The beſt who commits feweſt faults. 194 Cicero and Quintilian, You have with you three or four of the beſt Engliſh authors, - Dryden, Atterbury, and Swift; read them with the utmoſt care, and with a particular view to 'their language; and they may poſſibly correót that cu- rious infelicity of dićtion, which you acquired at Weſt- minſter. Mr. Harte excepted, I will admit that you have met with very few Engliſh abroad, who could improve your ſtyle; and with many, I dare ſay, who ſpeak as ill as yourſelf, and it may be worſe; you muſt therefore take the more pains, and conſult your au- thors, and Mr. Harte, the more. I need not tell you how attentive the Romans and Greeks, particularly the Athenians, were to this objećt. It is alſo a ſtudy among the Italians and the French, witneſs their re- fpe&tive academies and dićtionaries, for improving and fixing their language. To our ſhame be it ſpoken, it is leſs attended to here than in any polite country; but that is no reaſon why you ſhould not attend to it; on the contrary, it will diſtinguiſh you the more. Cicero ſays, very truly, that it is glorious to excel other men in that very article, in which men excel brutes— ſpeech. - -- Conſtant experience has ſhown me, that great purity and elegance of ſtyle, with a graceful elocution,. cover a multitude of faults, in either a ſpeaker or a writer. For my own part, I confeſs (and I believe moſt people are of my mind), that if a ſpeaker ſhould ungracefully mutter and ſtammer out to me the ſenſe of an angel, deformed by barbariſms and ſoleciſms, or larded with vulgariſms, he ſhould never ſpeak to me a ſecond time, if I could help it. - You have read Quintilian,—the beſt book in the world to form an orator: pray read Cicero De Ora- tore—the beſt book in the world to finiſh one. Tranſ. late and re-tranſlate, from and to Latin, Greek, and Engliſh ; make yourſelf a pure and elegant Engliſh ſtyle: it requires nothing but application. I do not find that God has made you a poet; and I am very glad that he has not ; therefore, make yourſelf an ora- tor, which you may do. Though I ſtill call you boy, † confider you no longer as ſuch ; and when I reflečt ~" . observations on Men in General. 195 upon the prodigious quantity of manure that has been laid upon you, I expe&t you ſhould produce more at eighteen, than uncultivated ſoils do at eight-and- twenty. - —-mº- LETTER LXXXI. Observations on Men in General...Eloquence...The Elo- quence of Popular Assemblies...Examples. DEAR Fox, London, December the 5th. THOSE who ſuppoſe, that men in general ačt ratio- nally, becauſe they are called rational creatures, know very little of the world; and if they ačt themſelves upon that ſuppoſition, will, nine times in ten, find themſelves groſsly miſtaken. That man is, animal bi- pes, implume, rifthle”, I entirely agree; but for the ra- tionale +, I can only allow it him in ačite primož (to talk logic), and ſeldom in attu ſecundo S. Thus, the ſpecu- lative, cloiſtered pedant, in his ſolitary cell, forms ſyſtems of things as they ſhould be, not as they are; and writes as deciſively and abſurdly upon war, poli- tics, manners, and charaćters, as that pedant talked, who was ſo kind as to inſtrućt Hannibal in the art of war. Such cloſet politicians never fail to aſſign the deepeſt motives for the moſt trifling ačtions; inſtead of often aſcribing the greateſt ačtions to the moſt trifling cauſes, in which they would be much ſeldomer miſ. taken. They read and write of kings, heroes, and ſtateſmen, as never doing any thing but upon the deepeſt principles of ſound policy. But thoſe who ſee and obſerve kings, heroes, and ſtateſmen, diſcover that they have head-achs, indigeſtions, humours, and paſ. ſions, juſt like other people; every one of which, in their turns, determines their wills, in defiance of their reaſon. Had we only read in the life of Alexander, that he burnt Perſepolis, it would doubtleſs have been accounted for from deep policy; we ſhould have been * An animal biped, unplumed, and inclined to laughter. + Rational. - . - - . In the firſt inſtance. § In the ſecond inſtance, t K 2. , s f 196 The Eloquence of Popular Assemblies. told, that his new conqueſt could not have been ſecur- ed without the deſtrućtion of that capital, which would have been the conſtant ſeat of cabals, conſpiracies, and revolts. But, luckily, we are informed at the ſame time, that this hero, this demi-god, this ſon and heir of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get extremely drunk with his w-e ; and, by way of frolick, deſtroyed one of the fineſt cities in the world. Read men, therefore, yourſelf, not in books, but in nature. Adopt no ſyſtems, but ſtudy them yourſelf. Obſerve their weakneſſes, their paſſions, their humours, of all which their underſtandings are, nine times in ten, the dupes. You will then know that they are to be gained, influ- enced, or led, much oftener by little things than by great ones; and, conſequently, you will no longer think thoſe things little, which tend to ſuch great purpoſes. - Let us apply this now to the particular objećt of this letter; I mean, ſpeaking in, and influencing popular aſſemblies. The nature of our conſtitution makes elo- quence more uſeful and more neceſſary, in this coun- try, than in any other in Europe. A certain degree of . good ſenſe and knowledge is requiſite for that, as well as for every thing elſe; but beyond that, the purity of dićtion, the elegancy of ſlyle, the harmony of periods, a pleafing elocution, and a graceful ačtion, are the things which a public ſpeaker ſhould attend to the moſt ; becauſe his audience certainly does, and under- ſtands them the beſt, or rather indeed underſtands little elſe. The late lord-chancellor Cowper's ſtrength, as an orator, lay by no means in his reaſonings, for he often hazarded very weak ones; but ſuch was the purity and elegancy of his ſtyle, ſuch the propriety and charms of his elocution, and ſuch the gracefulneſs of his ačtion, that he never ſpoke without univerſal ap- plauſe: the ears and the eyes gave him up the hearts and the underſtandings of the audience. On the con- trary, the late lord Townſhend always ſpoke materially, with argument and knowledge, but never pleaſed. Why? His dićtion was not only inelegant, but fre- quently ungrammatical, always vulgar; his cadences falſe, his voice unharmonious, and his action ungrace- *. Examples of Eloquence. 197. ful. Nobody heard him with patience; and the young fellows uſed to joke upon him, and repeat his inaccu- racies. The late duke of Argyle, though the weakeſt reaſoner, was the moſt pleaſing ſpeaker I ever knew in my life. He charmed, he warmed, he forcibly raviſhed the audience; not by his matter certainly, but by his manner of delivering it. A moſt genteel figure, a graceful no', le air, all harmonio is voice, an elegancy of ſtyle, and a ſtrength of emphaſis, conſpired to make him the moſt affecting, perſuaſive, and ap- plauded ſpeaker, I ever ſaw. I was captivated like others; but when I came home, and cooly conſidered what he had ſaid, ſtripped of all thoſe ornaments in which he had dreſſed it, I often found the matter flimſy, the arguments weak, and I was convinced of the power of thoſe adventitious concurring circumſtances, which ignorance of mankind only calls trifling ones. Cicero, in his book De Oratore, in order to raiſe the dignity of that profeſſion, which he well knew himſelf to be at the head of, aſſerts, that a complete orator muſt be a complete every thing-lawyer, philoſopher, divine, &c. That would be extremely well, if it was poffible : but man's life is not long enough ; and I hold him to be the completeſt orator who ſpeaks the beſt upon that fubjećt which occurs; whoſe happy choice of words, whoſe lively imagination, whoſe elocution and action, adorn and grace his matter; at the ſame time that they excite the attention, and engage the paſſions of his audience. - * - You will be of the Houſe of Commons as ſoon as you are of age ; and you muſt firſt make a figure there, if you would make a figure, or a fortune, in your coun- try. This you can never do without that correótneſs and elegancy in your own language, which you now ſeem to negle&t, and which you have entirely to learn. Fortunately for you, it is to be learned. Care and ob- ſervation will do it; but do not flatter yourſelf that all the knowledge, ſenſe, and reaſoning in the world, will ever make you a popular and applauded ſpeaker, with- out the ornaments and the graces of ſtyle, elocution, and action. Senſe and argument, though coarſely de- K 3 I 98 Of Eloquence. livered, will have their weight in a private converſa- tion, with two or three people of ſenſe; but in a public aſſembly they will have none, if naked, and deſtitute of the advantages I have mentioned. Cardinal de Retz obſerves, very juſtly, that every numerous aſ- ſembly is a mob, influenced by their paſſions, humours, and affections, which nothing but eloquence ever did, or ever can engage. This is ſo important a confi- deration for every body in this country, and more particularly for you, that I earneſtly recommend it to your moſt ſerious care and attention. Mind your dićtion, in whatever language you either write or fpeak; contračt a habit of correótneſs and elegance; confider your ſtyle, even in the freeſt converſation, and moſt familiar letters. After, at leaſt, if not be- fore you have ſaid a thing, refle&t if you could not have ſaid it better. Where you doubt of the pro- priety or elegancy of a word or phraſe, conſult ſome good dead or living authority in that language. Uſe yourſelf to tranſlate, from various languages, into Engliſh : correót thoſe tranſlations till they ſatisfy your ear, as well as your underſtanding. And be convinced of this truth, That the beſt ſenſe and reaſon in the world will be as unwelcome in a pub- lic aſſembly, without theſe ornaments, as they will in public companies, without the affiſtance of man- ners and politeneſs. If you will pleaſe people, you muſt pleaſe them in their own way : and, as you cannot make them what they ſhould be, you muſt take them as they are. I repeat it again, they are only to be taken by agrémens #, and by what flatters their ſenſes and their hearts. Rabelais firſt wrote a moſt excellent book, which nobody liked ; then, de- termined to conform to the public taſte, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which every body liked, extravagant as it was.-Adieu ! i * The pleaſing. º { 199 | LETTER LXXXII. The Subject of Style continued...Parliamentary jºis. Cicero’s Definition of an Orator confuted. DEAR box, London, December the 9th. IT is now above forty years fince I have never ſpoken nor written one ſingle word, without giving myſelf at . leaſt one moment’s time to conſider whether it was a good one or a bad one, and whether I could not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, at this time, ſhocks my ears; and I, like all the reſt of the world, will willingly exchange, and give up ſome degree of rough ſenſe, for a good degree of pleafing ſound. I will freely and truly own to you, without either vanity or falſe modeſty, that whatever reputation I have acquired, as a ſpeaker, is more owing to my conſtant attention to my dićtion, than to my matter, which was neceſſarily juſt the ſame as other people's. When you come inte parliament, your re- putation as a ſpeaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods, than upon the ſubjećt. The ſame matter occurs equally to every body of com- mon-ſenſe, upon the ſame queſtion; the dreſſing it well is what excites the attention and admiration of the audience. It is in parliament that I have ſet my heart upon your making a figure: it is there that I want to have you juſtly proud of yourſelf, and to make me juſtly proud of you. This means that you muſt be a good ſpeaker there: I uſe the word muff, becauſe I know you may if you will. The vulgar, who are al- ways miſtaken, look upon a ſpeaker and a comet with the ſame aſtoniſhment and admiration, taking them both for praeternatural phaenomena. This error diſ. courages many young men from attempting that cha- raēter; and good ſpeakers are willing to have their ta- lent conſidered as ſomething very extraordinary, if not a peculiar gift of God to his eleēt. Butlet you and I analyſe and ſimplify this good ſpeaker; let us ſtrip him of thoſe adventitious plumes, with which his own pride, and the ignorance of others have decked him; and we ſhall find the true definition of him to be no - - K 4. - 200 Cicero's Definition of an Orator confuted. more than this—A mad of good common ſenſe, who reaſons juſtly, and expreſſes himſelf elegantly on that ſubjećt upon which he ſpeaks." There is, ſurely, no witchcraft in this. A man of ſenſe, without a ſuperior and aftoniſhing degree of parts, will not talk nonſenſe upon any ſubjećt; nor will he, if he has the leaſt taſte. or application, talk inelegantly. What then does all this mighty art and myſtery of ſpeaking in parliament amount to ? Why, no more than this, that the man who ſpeaks in the houſe of commons, ſpeaks in that houſe, and to four hundred people, that opinion, upon a given ſubjećt, which he would make no difficulty of ſpeaking in any houſe in England, round the fire, or at table, to any fourteen people whatſoever—better judges, perhaps, and ſeverer critics of what he ſays; than any fourteen gentlemen of the houſe of commons. I have ſpoken frequently in parliament, and not al- ways without ſome applauſe; and therefore, I can aſſure you, from my experience, that there is very little in it. The elegancy of the ſtyle, and the turn of the periods, make the chief impreſſion upon the hear- ers. Give thern but one or two round and harmonious periods in a ſpeech, which they will retain and repeat, and they will go home as well ſatisfied as people do from an opera, humming all the way one or two fa- vourite tunes that have ſtruck their ears and were eaſily caught. Moſt people have ears, but few have judg- ment: tickle thoſe ears, and, depend upon it, you will catch their judgments, ſuch as they are. . - Cicero, conſcious that he was at the top of his pro- feſſion (for in his time eloquence was a profeſſion), in order to ſet himſelf off, defines, in his treatiſe De Ora- tore, an orator to be ſuch a man as never was, or never will be; and by this fallacious argument, ſays, that he muſt know every art and ſcience whatſoever, or how ſhall he ſpeak upon them But with ſubmiſſion to ſo great an authority, my definition of an orator is ex- tremely different from, and 'I believe much truer than his. I call that man an orator, who reaſons juſtly, and expreſſes himſelf elegantly upon whatever ſubjećt. he treats. Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, proceſſes in chemiſtry, and experiments in anatomy, The Subject of Eloquence continued. 201 are never, that I have heard of, the objećts of elo- quence; and therefore, I humbly conceive, that a man may be a very fine ſpeaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, algebra, chemiſtry, or anatomy. The ſub- jećts of all parliamentary debates, are ſubjećts of com- mon ſenſe ſingly. - - . - Thus I write, whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either to form or inform you. May my labour not be in vain and it will not, if you will but have half the concern for yourſelf, that I have for you.-Adieu ! * - - * - • * * . -- * LETTER LXXXIII. The Sulject of Eloquence continued...Lord Bolingbroke... - His History. - D.E.A.R. Bo Y, * London, December the 12th. LORD Clarendon, in his Hiſtory, ſays of Mr. John Hampden, that he had a head to contrive, a tongue to perſuade, and a hand to execute any miſchief. I ſhall not now enter into the juſtneſs of this chara&ter of Mr. Hampden, to whoſe brave ſtand againſt the illegal de- mand of ſhip-money we owe our preſent liberties; but I mention it to you as the charaćter, which, with the alteration of one ſingle word, good, inſtead of miſchief, I would have you aſpire to, and uſe your utmoſt en- deavours to deſerve. The head to contrive, God muſt, to a certain degree, have given you ; but it is in your own power greatly to improve it, by ſtudy, obſerva- tion, and refle&tion. . As for the tongue to perſuade, it wholly depends upon yourſelf; and without it the beſt head will contrive to very little purpoſe. The hand to execute, depends likewiſe, in my opinion, in a great meaſure upon yeurſelf. Serious refle&tion will always give courage in a good cauſe ; and the courage ariſing from refle&tion is of a much ſuperior nature to the ani: mal and conſtitutional courage of a foot-ſoldier. The former is ſteady and unſhaken, where the nodus is dig- nus vindice; the latter is oftener improperly than pro- perly exerted, but wººly. ~5 202 The Subject of Eloquence continued. The ſecond member of my text (to ſpeak eccleſiaſti. cally) ſhall be the ſubjećt of my following diſcourſe; the tongue to perſuade.—As judicious preachers recom- mend thoſe virtues, which they think their ſeveral au- diences want the moſt : ſuch as truth and continence, at court ; diſintereſtedneſs, in the city; and ſobriety, in the country. * * You muſt certainly, in the courſe of your little ex- perience, have felt the different effects of elegant and inelegant ſpeaking. Do you not ſuffer, when people accoſt you in a ſtammering or heſitating manner; in an untuneful voice, with falſe aggents and cadences; puz- zling and blundering through ſoleciſms, barbariſms, and vulgariſms ; miſplacing even their bad words, and inverting all method 2 Does not this prejudice you againſt their matter, be it what it will; nay, even againſt their perſons? I am ſure it does me. On the other hand, do you not feel yourſelf inclined, prepoſ- feſſed, nay, even engaged in favour of thoſe who ad- dreſs you in the direét contrary manner The effects of a correół and adorned ſtyle, of method and perſpi- cuity, are incredible towards perſuaſion; they often Aſupply the want of reaſon and argument; but, when uſed in the ſupport of reaſon and argument, they are irreſiſtible. If you have the leaſt defect in your elocu- tion, take the utmoſt care and pains to correót it. Do not negle&t your ſtyle, whatever language you ſpeak in, or whomever you ſpeak to, were it your footman. Seek always for the beſt words and the happieſt expreſ- fions you can find. Do not content yourſelf with being barely underſtood; but adorn your thoughts, and dreſs, them as you would your perſon; which, however well proportioned it might be, it would be very improper and indecent to exhibit naked, or even worſe dreſſed 'than people of your ſort are. , - I have ſent you, in a packet which your Leipſig ac- guaintance, Duval, ſends to his correſpondent at Rome, 3 ord Bolingbroke's book", which he publiſhed about - a year ago. I deſire that you will read it over and over again, with particular attention to the ſtyle, and to all * Letters on the ſpirit of patriótiſm, on the idea of a patriot king, Lord Bolingbroke.His History. 203 thoſe beauties of oratory with which it is adorned. Till H read that book, I confeſs I did not not know all the extent and powers of the Engliſh language. Lord Bo- lingbroke has both a tongue and a pen to perſuade; his manner of ſpeaking in private converſation is full as elegant as his writings; whatever ſubjećt he either fpeaks or writes upon, he adorns it with the moſt ſplen- did eloquence;—not a ſtudied or laboured eloquence, but ſuch a flowing happineſs of dićtion, which (from care perhaps at firſt) is become ſo habitual to him, that even his moſt familiar converſations, if taken down in writing, would bear the preſs, without the leaſt cor- rećtion either as to method or ſtyle. If his condućt had been equal to all his natural and acquired talents, he would moſt juſtly have merited the epithet of all-ac- compliſhed. . But he has been a moſt mortifying inſtance of the violence of human paſſions, and of the weakneſs of the moſt exalted human reaſon. His virtues and his vices, his reaſon and his paſſions, did not blend themſelves by a gradation of tints, but formed a ſuining and ſudden contraſt. - ~ Here the darkeſt, there the moſt ſplendid colours, and both rendered more ſhining from their proximity. Impetuoſity, exceſs, and almoſt extravagancy, chara&ter- iſed not only his paſſions, but even his ſenſes. His youth was diſtinguiſhed by all the tumult and ſtorm of pleaſures, in which he moſt licentiouſly triumphed, diſ- daining all decorum. His fine imagination has often been heated and exhauſted with his body, in celebrat-, ing and deifying the proſtitute of the night; and his convivial joys were puſhed to all the extravagancy of frantic Bacchanals. Thoſe paſſions were interrupted but by a ſtronger, ambition. The former impaired both his conſtitution and his charaćter, but the latter deſtroyed both his fortune and his reputation. He has noble and generous ſentiments, rather than fixed refle&ted principles of good-nature and friendſhip; but they are more violent than laſting, and ſuddenly and often varied to their oppoſite extremes, with regard . even to the ſame perſons. He receives the common attentions of civility as obligations, which he returns K. - q 204, Lord Bolingbroke...His History. with intereſt; and reſents with paſſion the little inad- vertencies of human-nature, which he repays with in- tereſt too. Even a difference of opinion upon a philo- fophical ſubjećt, would provoke, and prove him no practical philoſopher, at leaſt. -- * Notwithſtanding the diffipation of his youth, and the tumultupus agitation of his middle age, he has an in- finite fund of various knowledge, which, from the cleareſt and quickeſt conception, and happieſt memory, that ever man was bleſſed with, he always carries , about him. It is his pocket-money, and he never has occaſion to draw upon a book for any ſum. He excels more particularly in hiſtory, as his hiſtorical works plainly prove. The relative political and commercial intereſts of every country in Europe, particularly of his own, are better known to him than, perhaps, to any man in it; but how ſteadily he has purſued the latter, in his public condućt, his enemies, of all parties and denominations, tell with joy. He engaged young, and diſtinguiſhed himſelf in buſineſs; and his penetration was almoſt intuition. I am old enough to have heard him ſpeak in parliament. And I remember, that, though prejudiced againſt him by party, I felt all the force and charms of his elo- quence. Like Belial, in Milton, “he made the worſe “appear the better cauſe.” All the internal and ex- ternal advantages and talents of an orator are undoubt- `edly his. Figure, voice, elocution, knowledge; and, above all, the pureſt and moſt florid dićtion, with the juſteſt metaphors, and happieſt images, had raiſed him to the poſt of ſecretary-at-war, at four-and-twenty- years old—an age at which others are hardly thought fit for the ſmalleſt employments. He has had a very handſome perſon, with a moſt en- gaging addreſs in his air and manners: he has all the dignity and good-breeding which a man of quality ſhould or can have, and which ſo few, in this country at leaſt, really have. Upon the whole of this extraordinary man, what can we ſay, but alas, poor human-nature I 203 ) . LETTER Lxxxiv. General Observations on Human Characters... Ambition and, Avarice...Cardinal Mazarin...Cardinal Richelieu... Women, &c. " - DEA R B O Y, . London, December the 19th. THE knowledge of mankind is a very uſeful know- ledge for every body : a moſt neceſſary one for you, who are deſtined to an ačtive, public life. You will have to do with all ſorts of charaćters; you ſhould, therefore, know them thoroughly, in order to manage them ably. This knowledge is not to be gotten ſyſte- matically; you muſt acquire it yourſelf, by your own obſervation and ſagacity : I will give you ſuch hints as I think may be uſeful land-marks in your intended , progreſs. - - : ... I have often told you (and it is moſt true), that, with regard to mankind, we muſt not draw general conclus ſions from certain particular principles, though, in the main, true ones. We muſt not ſuppoſe, that, becauſe a man is a rational animal, he will therefore ačt rationally; or becauſe he has ſuch or ſuch a predominant paſſion, that he will ačt invariably and conſequentially in the pur- ſuit of it. No: we are complicated machines; and though we have one main ſpring, that gives motion to the whole, we have an infinity of little wheels, which, in their turns, retard, precipitate, and ſometimes ſtop that mo- tion. Let us exemplify. I will ſuppoſe ambition to be (as it commonly is) the predominant paſſion of a mini- ſter of ſtate; and I will ſuppoſe that miniſter to be an able one. Will he, therefore, invariably purſue the objećt of that predominant paſſion ? May I be ſure that he will do ſo and ſo, becauſe he ought? Nothing leſs. Sickneſs, or low ſpirits, may damp this predo- minant paſſion; humour and peeviſhneſs may triumph over it; inferior paſſions, may, at times, ſurpriſe it, and prevail. Is this ambitious ſtateſman amorous In- diſcreet and unguarded confidences, made in tender moments, to his wife or his miſtreſs, may defeat all his ſchemes. Is he avaricious 2 . Some great lucrative ob- jećt, ſuddenly preſenting itſelf, may unravel all the 206 Ambition and Avarice...Mazarin...Richelieu. work of his ambition. Is he paſſionate Contradic- tion and provocation (ſometimes, it may be, too, art- fully intended) may extort raſh and inconfiderate ex- preſſions, or aćtions, deſtrućtive of his main objećt. Is he vain, and open to flattery An artful, flattering favourite may miſlead him; and even lazineſs may, at certain moments, make him negleót or omit the ne- ceſſary ſteps to that height at which he wants to arrive. There are two inconſiſtent paſſions, which, how- ever, frequently accompany each other, like man and wife; and which, like man and wife too, are com- monly clogs upon each other. I mean ambition and avarice: the latter is often the true cauſe of the former; and then is the predominant paſſion. It ſeems to have been ſo in cardinal Mazarin; who did any thing, ſub- mitted to anything, and forgave any thing, for the ſake of plunder. He loved and courted power like an uſurer, becauſe it carried profit along with it. Who- ever ſhould have formed his opinion, or taken his mea- ſures, fingly from the ambitious part of cardinal Maza- rin's charaćter, would have found himſelf often miſtak- £n. Some, who had found this out, made their for- tunes by letting him cheat them at play. On the con- trary, cardinal Richelieu’s prevailing paſſion ſeems to have been ambition; and his immenſe riches, only the natural conſequences of that ambition gratified : and yet, I make no doubt, but that ambition had now and then its turn with the former, and avarice with the lat- ter. Richelieu (by the way) is ſo ſtrong a proof of the inconſiſtency of human-nature, that I cannot help ob- ferving to you, that, while he abſolutely governed both his king and his country, and was, in a great degree, the arbiter of the fate of all Europe, he was more jea- lous of the great reputation of Corneille, than of the power of Spain; and more flattered with being thought (what he was not) the beſt poet, than with being thought (what he certainly was) the greateſt ſtateſman in Eu- rope; and affairs ſtood ſtill, while he was concerting £he criticiſm upon the Cid. Could one think this poſſi- ble, if one did not know it to be true Though men are all of one compoſition, the ſeveral ingredients are fo differently proportioned in each individual, that no f "Sº. Human Characters...}} omen, &c. 20? .* two are exactly alike ; and no one, at all times, like himſelf. The ableſt man will, ſometimes, do weak things; the proudeſt man, mean things; the honeſteſt man, ill things; and the wickedeſt man, good ones. Study individuals, then; and if you take (as you ought to do) their outlines from their prevailing paſſion, ſuſ- pend your laſt finiſhing ftrokes, till you have attended to, and diſcovered the operations of their inferior paffions, appetites, and humours. A man's general charaćter may be that of the honeſteſt man of the world: do not diſpute it; you might be thought envi- ous or ill-natured: but, at the ſame time, do not take this probity upon truſt, to ſuch a degree as to put your life, fortune, or reputation in his power. This honeſt man may happen to be your rival in power, in intereſt, or in love—three paſſions that often put honeſty to moſt ‘ſevere trials, in which it is too often caſt: but firſt analyſe this honeſt man yourſelf; and then, only, you will be able to judge, how far you may, or may not, with ſafety truſt him. A - Women are much more like each other than men; they have, in truth, but two paſſions, vanity and love :- theſe are their univerſal charaćteriſtics. An Agrippina may ſacrifice them to ambition, or a Meſſalina to ſuſt; but ſuch inſtances are rare; and, in general, all they ſay, and all they do, tends to the gratification of their vanity, or their love. He who flatters them hoſt, pleaſes them beſt; and they are moſt in love with him, who they think is moſt in love with them. No adulation is too ſtrong for them; no affiduity too great; no ſimulation of paſſion too groſs: as, on the other hand, the leaſt word- or ačtion, that can poſſibly be conſtrued into a ſlight or contempt, is unpardonable, and never forgotten. Men are, in this reſpe&t, tender too, and will ſooner forgive an injury than an inſult. Some men are more captious than others; ſome are always wrong-headed : but every man living has ſuch a ſhare of vanity, as to be hurt by marks of ſlight and contempt. Every man does not pretend to be a poet, a mathematician, or a {tateſman, and confidered as ſuch ; but every man pre- tends to common-ſenſe, and to fill his place in the world with common decency; and, conſequently, does f 303 &bservations on Human Characters. not eaſily forgive thoſe negligences, inattentions, and ſlights, which ſeem to call in queſtion, or utterly deny him both theſe pretenſions. - Suſpect, in general, thoſe who remarkably affect any one virtue; who raiſe it above all others, and who, in a manner, intimate that they poſſeſs it excluſively. I ſay ſuſpe&t, them; for they are commonly impoſtors : but do not be ſure that they are always ſo; for 1 have ſometimes known bluſterers really brave, reformers of manners really honeſt, and prudes really chaſte. Pry into the receſſes of their hearts yourſelf, as far as you are able, and never implicitly adopt a charaćter upon common fame; which, though generally right as to the great outlines of charaćters, is always wrong in ſome particulars. - - ... Be upon your guard againſt thoſe, who, upon very flight acquaintance, obtrude their unaſked and un- merited friendſhip and confidence upon you; for they robably cram you with them only for their own eat- ing : but, at the ſame time, do not roughly rejećt them upon that general ſuppoſition. ... Examine further, and fee whether thoſe unexpected offers flow from a warm heart and a filly head, or from a deſigning head and a cold heart; for knavery and folly have often the ſame ſymptoms. - ' There is an incontinency of friendſhip among young fellows, who are aſſociated by their mutual pleaſures only ; which has, very frequently, bad conſequences. Bear your part in young companies; nay, excel, if you can, in all the ſocial and convivial joy and feſtivity that become youth. Truſt them with your love-tales, - if you pleaſe; but keep your ſerious views ſecret. Truſt thoſe only to ſome tried friend, more experienced than yourſelf, and who, being in a different walk of life from you, is not likely to become your rival; for I would not adviſe you to depend ſo much upon the heroic virtue of mankind, as to hope, or believe, that your competitor will ever be your friend, as to the objećt of that competition. [ 209 J 3 & LETTER LXXXV. Necessity of the lesser Pirtues...Cato and Caesar...The Proud Man and the Pedant. . . . . 3 pe AR BOY, GREAT talents, and great virtues (if you ſhould have them), will procure you the reſpect and the admiration of mankind; but it is the leſſer talents, the leniores vir- tutes, which muſt procure you their love and affection. The former, unaffiſted and unadorned by the latter, will extort praiſe; but will, at the ſame time, excite both fear and envy; two ſentiments abſolutely incom- % * patible with love and affection. . . . . . . . . . . Caeſar had all the great vices, and Cato all the great virtues, that men could have. But Caeſar had the leniores vi, tutes, which Cato wanted; and ~which made him beloved, even by his enemies, and gained him the hearts of mankind, in ſpight of their reaſon ; while Cato was not even beloved by his friends, not with- ſtanding the eſteem and reſpect which they could not refuſe to his virtues; and I am apt to think, that if Caeſar had wanted, and Cato poſſeſſed, thoſe leniores virtutes, the former would not have attempted (at leaſh with ſucceſs), and the latter could have protećted, the liberties of Rome. Mr. Addiſon, in his Cato, ſays of Caeſar (and I believe with truth), . . . . . . Curſe on his virtues, they've undone his country, By which he means, thoſe leſſer, but engaging virtues, of gentleneſs, affability, complaiſance, and good-hus mour. The knowledge of a ſcholar, the courage of a hero, and the virtue of a ſtoic, will be admired ; , but if the knowledge be accompanied with arrogance, the courage with ferocity, and the virtue with inflexible ſeverity, the man will never be loved. The heroiſm of Charles XII. of Sweden (if his brutal courage deſerves that name) was univerſally admired, but the man no where beloved. Whereas Henry IV. of France, who had full as much courage, and was much longer en- gaged in wars, was generally beloved upon account of his leſſer and ſocial virtues. We are all ſo formed, 2] O The Proud Man and the Pedant. that our underſtandings are generally the dupes of our hearts, that is, of our paſſions; and the ſureſt way to the former is through the latter, which muſt be en- gaged by the leniores virtutes aione, and the manner of exerting them. The inſolent civility of a proud man is (for example), if poſſible, more ſhocking than his rudeneſs could be ; becauſe he ſhows you, by his man- ner, that he thinks it mere condeſcenſion in him ; and that his goodneſs alone beſtows upon you what you have no pretence to claim. He intimates his protećtion, inſtead of his friendſhip, by a gracious nod, inſtead of an uſual bow; and rather ſignifies his conſent that you may, than his invitation that you ſhould fit, walk, eat, or drink with him. : . - The coſtive liberality of a purſe-proud man inſults the diſtreſſes it ſometimes relieves ; he takes care to make you feel your own misfortunes, and the difference between your ſituation and his ; both which he in finuates to be juſtly merited : yours, by your folly ; his, by his wiſdom. The arrogant pedant does not communicate, but promulgates his knowledge. He does not give it you, but he inflićts it upon you ; and is (if poſſible) more deſirous to ſhow you your own ig- norance, than his own learning. Such manners as theſe, not only in the particular inſtances which I have mentioned, but likewiſe in all others, ſhock and revolt that little pride and vanity, which every man has in his heart; and obliterate in us the obligation for the favour conferred, by reminding us of the motive, which pro- duced, and the manner which accompanied it. Theſe faults point out their oppoſite perfeótions, and your own good ſenſe will naturally ſuggeſt them to you.-Adieu ! - [ 211 ) * LETTER LXXXVI. Respect for Religion recommended...Irreligious and in- moral Writers censured...Strict Morals and Religion equally necessary to Conduct and Character...The in- famous Chartres...Anecdote of him... Lying...Dignity of Character. - DEAR EOY, - London, January the 8th. I HAVE ſeldom or never written to you upon the ſub- jećt of religion and morality: your own reaſon, I am perſuaded, has given you true notions of both ; they fpeak beſt for themſelves; but, if they wanted aſſiſt- ance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example. A few obſervations, however, I ſhall now offer upon the external reſpect which theſe im- portant obječts demand, and which is equally neceſ. ſary with that internal veneration which every rational man-muſt maintain for them in his heart. When I fpeak of religion, I do not mean that you ſhould talk or act like a miſſionary, or an enthuſiaſt, nor that you, ſhould take up a controverſial cudgel againſt whoever attacks the ſeót you are of; this would be both uſeleſs, and unbecoming your age; but I mean that you ſhould by no means ſeem to approve, encourage, or applaud, thoſe libertine notions, which ſtrike at religions equal- . ly, and which are the poor thread-bare topics of half- wits, and ſelf-created philoſophers. Even thoſe who are filly enough to laugh at their jokes, are ſtill wiſe enough to diſtruſt and deteſt their charaćters : for, putting moral virtues at the higheſt, and religion at the loweſt, religion muſt ſtill be allowed to be a great collateral ſecurity, at leaſt, to virtue; and every prudent man will ſooner truſt to two ſecurities than to one. Whenever, therefore, you happen to be in company with thoſe pretended eſprits forts *, or with thoughtleſs libertines, who laugh at all religion to ſhow their wit, or diſclaim it to complete their riot, let no word or look of yours intimate the leaſt approbation; on the £ontrary, let a filent gravity expreſs your diſlike: but * Strong minds. 212 Necessity of a Moral and Religious Conduct, &c, enter not into the ſubjećt, and decline ſuch unprofit- able and indecent controverfies. Depend upon this truth, that every man is the worſe looked upon, and the leſs truſted, for being thought to have no religion; in ſpite of all the pompous and ſpecious epithets he may aſſume, of . * * } . - . . . . . . . . ;- - MY DEAR FRIEND, . . . . . . London, January the 3d. BY your letter of the 5th, I find that your début at Paris has been a good one; you are entered into good company, and I dare ſay you will not ſink into bad. Frequent the Houſes where you have been once invited, and have none of that ſhyneſs which makes moſt of your countrymen ſtrangers, where they might be inti- mate and domeſtic if they pleaſed. Wherever you have a general invitation to fup when you pleaſe, profit of it with decency, and go every now and then, “Lord Albemarle will, I am fure, be extremely kind to you; but his houſe is only a dinner houſe; and, as I am in: formed, frequented by no French people. Should he happen to employ you in his bureau, which I much doubt, you muſt write a better hand than your common one, or you will get no great credit by your manuſcripts; for your hand is at preſent an illiberal one: it is nei- ther a hand of buſineſs, nor of a gentleman; but the hand of a ſchool-boy writing his exerciſe, which he hopes will never be read. * * s Madame de Monconſeil gives me a favourable ac- count of you, and ſo do marquis de Matignon and madame du Boccage; they all ſay that you déſire to. pleaſe, and conſequently promiſe me that you will: and they judge right; for whoever really deſires to .* * 275 Politeness. ** pleaſe, and has (as you now have) the means of learn- ing how, certainly will pleaſe: and that is the great point of life; it makes all other things eaſy. When- ever you are with madame de Monconſeil, madame du Boccage, or other women of faſhion, with whom you are tolerably free, ſay frankly and naturally, je n'ai point d'uſage du monde, jºy ſuis encore bien neuf; je ſoukai- terois ardemment de plaire, mais je ne ſcais gueres comment m'y prendre. Aiez la Monté, madame, de me faire part de votre ſecret de plaire à tout le monde. ...?” en ferai ma for- tune, et il vous en rºſłera fourtant toujours, plus qu’il me vous en faut *. When, in conſequence of this requeſt, they ſhall tell you of any little error, awkwardneſs, or impropriety, you ſhould not only feel, but expreſs the warmeſt acknowledgment. Though nature ſhould ſuf- fer, and ſhe will at firſt hearing them; tell them, Que la critique la plus ſévère, ºft & votre égard la preuve la plus marquée de leur amitié +. Madame du Boccage tells me particularly to inform you, Qu'il me fera toujours plai- ſir et honneur de me venir voir : il eſ' vrai qu’à ſon age le plaiſir de cauſer eff froid; mais je tacherai de lui faire faire connoiſſance avec des jeunes.gens, &c.f. Make uſe of this invitation; and, as you live in a manner next door to her, ſtep in and out there frequently. Monſieur du 'Böccage will go with you, he tells me, with great plea- ſure to the plays, and point out to you whatever de- ferves your knowing there. This is worth your ac- ceptance too, he has a very good taſte. I have not yet heard from lady Hervey upon your ſubjećt; but as you inform me that you have already ſupped with her once, I look upon you as adopted by her : conſult her in all. your little matters; tell her any difficulties that may * “I know little of the work'. I am quite a novice in it; and, although very deſirous of pleaſing, I am at a loſs for the means. Be ſo good, madam, as to let me into your ſecret of pleafing every body. I ſhall owe my ſucceſs to it, and you will always have more than falls to your ſhare.” • * - + “That you will look upon the moſt ſevere criticiſms as the greateſt proof of their friendſhip.” : “I ſhall always receive the honour of his viſits with pleaſure : it is true, that at his age the pleaſures of converſation are, cold ; but I will endeavour to bring him acquainted with young pee- * ple,” &c." Proper Use of Time. 279 occur to you; aſk her what you ſhould do or ſay, in ſuch or ſuch caſes. Madame de Berkenrode is equally polite and elegant, and your quotation is very appli- cable to her. You may be there, I dare ſay, as often as you pleaſe; and I would adviſe you to ſup there once a week. You ſay, very juſtly, that, as Mr. Harte is leaving you, you ſhall want advice more than ever; you ſhall never want mine; and as you have already had ſo much of it, I muſt rather repeat, than add to what I have already given you; but that I will do, and add to it occaſionally, as circumſtances may require. At preſent, I ſhall only remind you of your two great objećts, which you ſhould always attend to : they are, parliament, and foreign af- fairs. With regard to the former, you can do nothing, while abroad, but attend carefully to the purity, cor- rečtneſs, and elegancy of your dićtion; the clearneſs and gracefulneſs of your utterance, in whatever lan- guage you ſpeak. As for the parliamentary know- ledge, I will take care of that, when you come home. With regard to foreign affairs, every thing you do abroad may and ought to tend that way. Your read- ing ſhould be chiefly hiſtorical; I do not mean of re- mote, dark, and fabulous hiſtory, ſtill leſs of jimcrack; but I mean the uſeful, political, and conſtitutional hi- ſtory of Europe, for theſe laſt three centuries and an half. The other thing neceſſary for your foreign ob- jećt, and not leſs neceſſary than either ancient or modern knowledge, is a great knowledge of the world, manners, politèneſs, and addreſs. In that view, keeping a great deal of good company is the principal point to which you are now to attend. What with your exerciſes, in- deed, ſome reading, and a great deal of company, your day is, I confeſs, extremely taken up ; but the day, if well employed, is long enough for every thing, and I am ſure you will not ſlattern away one moment of it in ina&tion. At your age people have ſtrong and ačive ſpirits, alacrity, and vivacity in all they do ; are indefa- tigable, and quick. The difference is, that a young fel. low of parts exerts all thoſe happy diſpoſitions in the purſuit of proper objećts; endeavours to excel in the ſolid, and in the ſhowiſh parts of life : whereas a filly V. 280 Dignity of Character. puppy, or a dull rogue, throws away all his youth and ſpirits upon trifles, when he is ſerious ; or upon diſ- graceful vices, while he aims at pleaſures. This, I am ſure, will not be your caſe; your good ſenſe and your good condućt hitherto are your guarantees with me for the future. Continue only at Paris as you have begun, and your ſtay there will make you, what I have always wiſhed you to be—as near perſe&tion as our nature permits. . . . . . . Adieu, my dear; remember to write to me once a week, not as to a father, but without reſerve, as to a friend. . . t . . . . * • . LETTER CVII. - # Dignity of Character...Constitution and Commerce of Eng- land...Oldcastle's Remarks on the History of England... Character of a Well-bred Man. MY DEA R FRIEND, London, January the 14th. AMONG the many good things Mr. Harte has told me of you, two in particular gave me great pleaſure. The firſt, that you are exceedingly careful and jealous of the dignity of your charaćter : that is the ſure and ſolid foundation upon which you muſt both ſtand and riſe. A man's moral charaćter is a more delicate thing than a woman's reputation of chaſtity. A falſe ſtep may poſſibly be forgiven her, and her charaćter may be cla- rified by ſubſequent and continued good condućt: but a man's moral charaćter once tainted is irreparably de- ſtroyed. The ſecond was, that you had acquired a moſt correót and extenſive knowledge of foreign af- fairs; ſuch as the hiſtory, the treaties, and the forms of government of the ſeveral countries of Europe. This ſort of knowledge, little attended to here, will make you not only uſeful, but neceſſary, in your fu- ture deſtination, and carry you very far. He added, that you wanted ſome books relative to our laws and ..conſtitution, our Colonies, and our commerce,—of which you know leſs than of thoſe of any other part of Europe. 'I will ſend you what ſhort books I can find - Constitutions and Commerce of England. 281 of that ſort, to give you a general notion of thoſe things; but you cannot have time to go into their depths at preſent, you cannot now engage with new folios; you and I will refer the conſtitutional part of this country to our meeting here, when we will enter ſeriouſly into it, and read the neceſſary books together. In the mean time, go on in the courſe you are in, of . foreign matters; converſe with miniſters and others of every country, watch the tranſačtions of every court, and endeavour to trace them up to their ſource. I will ſend you, by the firſt opportunity, a ſhort book written by Lord Bolingbroke, under the name of Sir John Oldcºſtle, containing remarks upon the Hiſtory of England; which will give you a clear general notion of our conſtitution, and which will ſerve you, at the ſame time (like all Lord Bolingbroke's works) for a model of eloquence and ſtyle. I will alſo ſend you Sir Joſiah Childe’s little book upon trade, which may pro- perly be called the Commercial Grammar. He lays down the true principles of commerce; and his conclu- fions from them are generally very juſt. . . Since you turn your thoughts a little towards trade- and commerce, which I am very glad you do, I will recommend a French book to you, that you will eaſily get at Paris, and which I take to be the beſt book in the world of that kind; I mean the Dićtionnaire de Com- merce de Savary *, in three volumes in folio;, where you will find every, thing that relates to trade, commerce, ſpecie, exchange, &c. moſt clearly ſtated; and not only relative to France, but to the whole world. You will eaſily ſuppoſe, that I do not adviſe you to read ſuch a book toute de ſuite ; but I only mean that you ſhould have it aßhand, to have recourſe to occa- ſionally. sºrt tº : 3. With this great ſtock of both uſeful and ornamental knowledge, which you have already acquired, and which, by your application and induſtry, you are daily increaſing, you will lay ſuch a ſolid foundation of future figure and fortune, that, if you complete it by all the accompliſhments, of manners, graces, &c. I * Savary's Dićtionary of Commerce. 289 Character of a well-bred Man. know nothing which you may not aim at, and, in time, hope for. Your great point at preſent at Paris, to which all other conſiderations muſt give way, is to become en- tirely a man of faſhion; to be well-bred without cere- mony, eaſy without negligence, ſteady and intrepid with modeſty, genteel without affectation, infinuating without meanneſs, cheerful without being noiſy, frank without, indifcretion, and ſecret without myſteriouſ- neſs; to know the proper time and place for whatever you ſay or do, and to do it with an air of condition : all this is not ſo ſoon nor ſo eaſily learned as people ima- gine, but requires obſervation and time. The world is an immenſe folio, which demands a great deal of time and attention to be read and underſtood as it ought to be : you have not yet read above four or five pages of it; and you will have but barely time to dip now and then in other leſs important books. s Lord Albemarle has (I know) written to a friend of his here, that you do not frequent him ſo much as he expected and deſired; that he fears ſomebody or other has given you wrong impreſſions of him; and that I may poſſibly think, from your being ſeldom at his houſe, that he has been wanting in his attentions to you. I told the perſon who told me this, that, on the con- trary, you ſeemed, by your letters to me, to be ex- tremely pleaſed with Lord Albemarle's behaviour to you ; but that you were obliged to give up dining abroad, during your courſe of experimental philoſo- phy. I gueſſed the true reaſon, which I believe was, that, as no French people frequent his houſe, you ra- ther choſe to dine at other places, where you were likely to meet with better company than your own country: men; and you were in the right & it. However, f. would have you ſhow no ſhyneſs to Lord Albemarle, but go to him, and dine with him oftener than it may be you would wiſh—for the ſake of having him ſpeak well of you here when he returns. He is a good deal in faſhion here, and his puffing you (to uſe an awkward expreſſion) before you return here, will be of great uſe to you afterwards. People in general take chara&ers, as they do moſt things, upon truſt, rather than be at the trouble of examining them themſelves; and the de- Csx. º # ; - • 2 a. Conforming to the Aſanners of Foreigners. 2S3 ciſions of four or five faſhionable people, in every place, are final,—more particularly with regard to cha- raćters, which all can hear, and but few judge of . Do not mention the leaſt of this to any mortal, and take care that Lord Albemarle do not ſuſpect that you know any thing of the matter. Lord Hintingdon and Lord Stormont are, I hear, arrived at Paris; you have, doubtleſs, ſeen them. Lord Stormont is well ſpoken of here; however, in your conne&tions, if you form any with them, ſhow rather a preference to Lord Huntingdon, for reaſons which you will eaſily gueſs. - * Mr. Harte goes this week to Cornwall, to take poſ- ſeſſion of his living; he has been inſtalled at Windſor; he will return hither in about a month, when your li- terary correſpondence with him will be regularly car: ried on. Your mutual concern at parting was a good ſign for both.—Adieu ! + * *tºlºss- LETTER CVIII. Docility...Necessity of conforming to the Manuers of Fo- reigners... Suavity of Mainers... Mode of electing the King of the Romans...Uses of the Italian and German Languages. - * t Á MY DEAR FRIEND, London, January the 21ſt. IN all my letters from Paris, I have the pleaſure of finding, among many other good things, your docility mentioned with emphaſis: this is the ſure.'way of im- proving in thoſe things, which you only want. It is true, they are littº; but it is as true too that they are neceſſary things. As they are mere matters of uſage and mode, it is no diſgrace for any body of your age to be ignorant of them; and the moſt compendious ' way of learning them is, fairly to avow your ignorance, and to conſult thoſe, who, from long uſage and experi- ence, know them, beſt. Good ſenſe, and good nature, fuggeſt civility in general; but, in good-breeding, there are a thouſand little delicacies, which are eſtabliſhed only by cuſtom; and it is theſe little elegancies of man- * 2S4 , Suavity of Manners. ners which diſtinguiſh a courtier, and a man of faſhion, from the vulgar. I am aſſured, by different people, that your air is already much improved; and one of my correſpondents makes you the true French compli- ment of ſaying, 7'oſe vous prometre qu'il ſera bientôt comme un de mcus autres *. However unbecoming this ſpeech may be in the mouth of a Frenchman, I am very glad that they think it applicable to you; for I would have you not only adopt, but rival, the beſt manners and uſages of the place you are at, be they what they will; that is the verſatility of manners, which is ſo uſeful in the courſe of the world. Chuſe your models well at Paris; and then rival them in their own way. There are faſhionable words, phraſes, and even geſtures, at Paris, which are called du bon ton ; not to mention certaines petites politéſes et attentions, qui ne ſont. rien en elles mémes f, which faſhion has rendered neceſ- ſary. Make yourſelf maſter of all theſe things; and to ſuch a degree as to make the French ſay, qu'on diroit que c'eſ' un François t ; and when hereafter you ſhall be at other courts, do the ſame thing there, and conform to the faſhionable manners and uſage of the place; that is what the French themſelves are not apt to do: where- ever they go, they retain their own manners, as think- ing them the beſt; but, granting them to be ſo, they are ſtill in the wrong, not to conform to thoſe of the place. One would deſire to pleaſe, wherever one is ; and nothing is more innocently flattering, than an ap- probation, and an imitation of the people one con- verſes with. - - - - - In your commerce with women, and indeed with men too, une certaine doucer § is particularly engaging; it is that which conſtitutes that cºraćter which the French talk of ſo much, and ſo juſtly value; I mean l'aimable. This douceur is not ſo eaſily deſcribed as felt. It is the compound reſult of different things: a complaiſance, a flexibility, but not a ſervility of man- * I dare venture to promiſe that he will ſoon be like ourſelves. + Certain little politeneſſes and attentions, which are nothing in. themſelves. . - # That he may be called a Frenchman. , § Suavity of manners. --- Mode of electing the King of the Romans. 285 ners: an air of ſoftneſs in the countenance, geſture, and expreſſion ; equally, whether you concur or dif- fer with the perſon you converſe with. Obſerve thoſe carefully who have that douceur which charms you and others; and your own good ſenſe will ſoon enable you to diſcover the different ingredients of which it is com- poſed. You muſt be more particularly attentive to this douceur, whenever you are obliged to refuſe what is aſked of you, or to ſay what in itſelf cannot be very agreeable to thoſe to whom you ſay it. It is then the neceſſary gilding of a diſagreeable pill. L'aimable con- ſiſts in a thouſand of theſe little things aggregately. It is the ſadviſer in modo, which I have ſo often recom- mended to you. The reſpećtable, Mr. Harte aſſures me, you do not want, and I believe him. Study then carefully, and acquire perfeótly the aimable, and you will have every thing. -. - Abbé Guaſco, who is another of your panegyriſts, writes me word, that he has taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain's; where you will be welcome , as often as you pleaſe, and the oftener the better. Pro- fit of that, upon the principle of travelling in different countries, without changing places. He ſays too, that he will take you to the parliament, when any remark- able cauſe is to be tried. That is very well; go through the ſeveral chambers of the parliament, and ſee and hear what they are doing: join practice and obſerva- tion to your theoretical knowledge of their rights and privileges. No Engliſhman has the leaſt notion of them. I need not recommend you to go to the bottom of the conſtitutional and political knowledge of countries; for Mr. Harte tells me, that you have a peculiar turn that way, and have informed yourſelf moſt correótly of them. • - I muſt now put ſome queries to you, as to a juris publici peritus *, which I am ſure you can anſwer me, and which I own 1 cannot anſwer myſelf: they are upon a ſubjećt now much talked of. 1ſt, Are there any particular forms requiſite for the ele&tion of a king of the Romans, different from thoſe which are neceſſary for the elečtion of an emperor * , * Skilled in the public law of the empire. 286 Uses of the Italian and German Languages. 2dly, Is not a king of the Romans as legally elećted by the votes of a majority of the eleētors, as by two- thirds, or by the unanimity of the eleētors? 3dly, Is there any particular law, or conſtitution of the empire, that diſtinguiſhes, either in matter or in form, the eleētion of a king of the Romans from that of an emperor And is not the golden bull of Charles the fourth equally the rule for both 2 - 4thly, Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the elećtors (I have forgotten when) ſome rules and limitations agreed upon concerning the elec- tion of a king of the Romans? And were thoſe re- ſtrićtions legal, and did they obtain the force of law How happy am I, my dear child, that I can apply to you for knowledge, and with a certainty of being rightly informed It is knowledge, more than quick, flaſhy parts, that makes a man of buſineſs. A man who is maſter of his matter will, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, and indeed any-where elſe, for a man of better parts, who knows his ſubjećt but ſu- perficially: and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and elocution, he muſt neceſſarily ſoon be at the head of that aſſembly: but without thoſe two, no know- ledge is ſufficient. - '. Lord Huntingdon writes me word he has ſeen you, and that you have renewed your old ſchool-acquaint- ance. Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormont; and alſo of the other Engliſh people of faſhion you meet with. I promiſe you in- violable ſecrecy on my part. You and I muſt now write to each other as friends, and without the leaſt reſerve; there will for the future be a thouſand things in my letters, which I would not have any mortal liv- ing but yourſelf ſee or know. Thoſe you will eaſily diſtinguiſh, and neither ſhow nor repeat; and I will do the ſame by you. -, * * - To come to another ſubjećt, for I have a pleaſure in talking over every ſubjećt with you,-how deep are {zzº- you in Italian * Do you underſtand Arioſto, Taſſo, , Bocacció, and Machiavelli? If you do, you know enough of it, and may know all the reſt, by reading, when you have time. Little or no buſineſs is written * Bad-writing...Signatures, &c. . 287 in Italian, except in Italy; and if you know enough of it to underſtand the few Italian letters that may in time come in your way, and to ſpeak Italian tolerably to thoſe very few Italians who ſpeak no French, give yourſelf no farther trouble about that language, till you happen to have full leiſure to pèrfeót yourſelf in it. It is not the ſame with regard to German; your ſpeaking and writing that well will particularly diſtinguiſh you from every other man in England; and is, moreover, of great uſe to any one who is, as probably you will be, employed in the empire. Therefore, pray culti- vate it ſedulouſly, by writing four or five lines of Ger- man every day, and by ſpeaking it to every German you meet with. I have a packet of books to ſend you by the firſt op- portunity, which, I believe, will be Mr. Yorke's re- turn to Paris. The Greek books come from Mr. Harte, and the Engliſh ones from your humble ſervant. Read Lord Bolingbroke's with great attention, as well to the ſtyle as to the matter. I wiſh you could form yourſelf ſuch a ſtyle in every language. Style is the dreſs of thoughts, and a well-dreſſed thought, like a well-dreſſed man, appears to great advantage. Yours, —Adieu. - - —- LETTER CIX. Bad-writing... Signatures...Poulets...Haste and Hurry... Civility to old Acquaintances...Friends. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, January the 28th. A BILL, for ninety pounds ſterling, was brought me the other day, ſaid to be drawn upon me by you;-I ſcrupled paying it at firſt, not upon account of the ſum, but becauſe you had ſent me no letter of advice, which is always done in thoſe tranſačtions; and ſtill more, becauſe I did not perceive that you had ſigned it. . The perſon who preſented it deſired me to look again, and that I ſhould diſcover your name at the bottom; ac- cordingly I looked again, and, with the help of my mag- nifying glaſs, did perceive, that what I had firſt taken only for ſomebody's mark, was, in truth, your name, ^. $288 Bad-writing...Poulets...Haste and Hurry. * written in the worſt and ſmalleſt hand I, ever ſaw in my life. I cannot write quite ſo ill, but it was ſomething like this, 2.3%'.3% ºx- ºve . However, I paid it at a venture; though I would almoſt rather loſe the mo- ney than that ſuch a ſignature ſhould be yours. All gen- themen, and all men of buſineſs, write their names always in the ſame way, that their fignature may be ſo well known as not to be eaſily counterfeited; and they gene- rally ſign in rather a larger charaćter than their common hand : whereas your name was in a leſs, and a worſe, than your common writing. This ſuggeſted to me the various accidents which may very probably happen to you, while you write ſo ill. For inſtance, if you were to write in ſuch a chara&ter to the ſecretary's office, your letter would immediately be ſent to the decypherer, as containing matters of the utmoſt ſecrecy, not fit to be truſted to the common claraćier. If you were to write ſo to an antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of learning) would certainly try it by the Runic, Celtic, or Sclavonian alphabet; never ſuſpecting it to be a modern chara&ter. And, if you were to ſend a poulet * to a fine woman, in ſuch a hand, ſhe would think that it really came from the poulailler +, which, by the bye, is the etymology of the word poulet; for Henry the Fourth of France uſed to ſend billets-doux to his miſtreſſes, by his poulaillier, under pretence of ſend- ing them chickens; which gave the name of poulets to thoſe ſhort, but expreſſive matſuſcripts. I have often told you, that every man, who has the uſe of his eyes and of his band, can write whatever hand he pleaſes; and it is plain that you can, ſince you write both the Greek and German charaćters, which you never learn- ed of a writing-waſter, extremely well, though your common hand, which you learned of a maſter, is an exceeding bad and illiberal one, equally unfit for buſi- neſs or common uſe. I do not deſire that you ſhould write the laboured ſtiff charaćter of a writing-maſter: a man of buſineſs muſt write quick and well ; and that depends ſingly upon uſe. I would therefore adviſe you to get ſome very good writing-maſter at Paris, and ap- * A love-letter. + A poulterer. t Haste and Hurry. s 233 ply to it for a month only, which will be ſufficient; for, upon my word, the writing of a genteel plain hand of buſineſs is of much more importance than you think. You will ſay, it may be, that when you write ſo very ill, it is becauſe you are in a hurry: to which I anſwer, why are you ever in a hurry A man of ſenſe may be in haſte, but can never be in a hurry, becauſe he knows, that whatever he does in a hurry he muſt ne- ceſſarily do very ill. He may be in baſte to diſpatch an affair, but he will take care not to let that haſte hinder his doing it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the objećt proves (as it commonly does) too big for them; they run, they hare, they puzzle, confound, and perplex themſelves; they want to do every thing at once, and never do it at all. But a man of ſenſe takes the time neceſſary for doing the thing he is about, well; and his haſte to diſpatch a buſineſs only appears by the continuity of his application to it; he purſues it with a cool ſteadineſs, and finiſhes it before he begins any other. I own your time is much taken up, and you have a great many different things to do; but re- member, that you had much better do half of them well, and leave the other half undone, than do them all indifferently. Moreover, the few ſeconds that are ſaved in the courſe of the day, by writing ill inſtead of well, do not amount to an objećt of time, by any means equivalent to the diſgrace or ridicule of writing the ſcrawl of a common woman. Conſider, that if : your very had writing could furniſh me with matter of ridicule, what will it not do to others, who do not view you in that partial light that I do. There was a pope, I think it was pope Chigi, who was juſtly ridiculed for his attention to little things, and his inability in great ones; and therefore called maximuſ in minimir, and mi- mimus in maximis". Why Becauſe he attended to little things when he had great ones to do. At this particu- lar period of your life, and at the place you are now in, you have only little things to do; and you ſhould make it habitual to you to do them well, that they may re- quire no attention from you when you have, as I hope * The greateſi in little things, and the leaſt in-great ones. O : -º ſº 290 Civility to Old Acquaintances...Friends. you will have, greater things to mind. Make a good hand-writing familiar to you now, that you may here- after have nothing but your matter to think of, when you have occaſion to write to kings and miniſters. As I am eternally thinking of every thing that can be relative to you, one thing has occurred to me, which I think neceſſary to mention, in order to pre- vent the difficulties, which it might otherwiſe lay you under : it is this; as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impoſfible for you to frequent your firſt acquaintances, ſo much as you did while you had no others. As for example, at your firſt début, I ſup- poſe, you were chiefly at madame Monconſeil’s, lady Hervey’s, and madame Du Boccage's. Now that you have got ſo many other houſes, you cannot be at theirs ſo often as you uſed; but pray take care not to give them the leaſt reaſon to think that you negle&t or de- ſpiſe them, for the ſake of new and more dignified and ſhining acquaintances; which would be ungrateful and imprudent on your part, and never forgiven on theirs. Call upon them often, though you do not ſtay with hem ſo long as formerly ; tell them that you are ſorry you are obliged to go away, but that you have ſuch and ſuch engagements, with which good-breeding obliges you to comply ; and infinuate that you would rather ſtay with them. In ſhort, take care to make as many perſonal friends, and as few perſonal enemies, as poſſible. I do not mean, by perſonal friends, intimate and confidential friends, of which no man can hope to have half a dozen in the whole courſe of his life; but I, mean friends, in the common acceptation of the word; that is, people who ſpeak well of you, and who would rather do you good than harm, conſiſtently with their own intereſt, and no farther. Upon the whole, I recommerd to you again and again the graces. Adorn- ed by them, you may, in a manner, do what you pleaſe; it will be approved of: without them, your beſt qualities will loſe half their efficacy. Endeavour to be faſhionable among the French, which will ſoon make you faſhionable here. , t- - { 291 ) LETTER CX. - Modesty and Firmness...Modern Historical and Political Learning... La Bruyere... La Rochefoucault. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, February the 4th. THE accounts which I receive of you from Paris grow every day more and more ſatisfactory. Lord Albemarle has written a ſort of panegyric on you, which has been feen by many people here, and which will be a very uſeful forerunner for you. Being in faſhion is an im- portant point for any body, any where; but it would be a very great one for you to be eſtabliſhed in the faſhion here before you return. Your buſineſs would be half done by it, as I am ſure you would not give people reaſon to change their favourable prae-ſenti- ments of you. The good that is ſaid of you will not, § am convinced, make you a coxcomb; and, on the other hand, the being thought ſtill to want ſome little accompliſhments will, I am perſuaded, not mortify you, but only animate you to acquire them : I will, therefore, give you both fairly in the following extraćt of a letter which I lately received from an impartial and diſcerning friend. . - *- “ Permit me to aſſure you, Sir, that Mr. Stanhope will ſucceed. He has a great fund of knowledge, and an uncommonly good memory, though he does not make any parade of either the one or the other. He is deſirous of pleaſing, and he will pleaſe. He has an expreſſive countenance; his figure is elegant, al- though little. He has not the leaſt awkwardneſs, though he has not as yet acquired all the graces re- quiſite. In ſhort, he wants nothing but thoſe things, which, at his age, muſt unavoidably be wanting; I “mean, a certain turn and delicacy of manners, which “ are to be acquired only by time, and in good Com- “ pany. Ready, as he is, he will ſoon learn them; particiilarly as he frequents ſuch companies as are the moſt proper to give them.” - By this extract, which I can aſſure you is a faithful one, you and I have both of us the ſatisfaction of know- ing, how much you hº and how little you want. 2. t K & & & & { º & % § º 292 Historical and Political Learning. Let what you have, give you (if poffible) rather more external modeſty, but at the ſame time more interior firmneſs; and let what you want, which you ſee is very attainable, redouble your attention and endeavours to acquire it. You have, in truth, but that one thing to apply to; and a very pleaſing application it is, ſince it is through, pleaſures that you muſt arrive at it. Com- pany, ſuppers, balls, ſpectacles, which ſhow you the models upon which you muſt form yourſelf, and all the little uſages, cuſtoms, and delicacies, which you muſt adopt, and make habitual to you, are now your only ſchools and univerſities. * I have ſent you, by the opportunity of Pollock the courier, who was once my ſervant, two little parcels of Greek and Engliſh books: and ſhall ſend you two more by Mr. Yorke; but I accompany them with this caution; that, as you have not much time to read, yo Íhould employ it in reading what is the moſt neceſſarº; and that is, indiſputably, modern hiſtorical, geographi- cal, chronological, and political knowledge; the pre- ſent conſtitution, maxims, force, riches, trade, com- merce, characters, parties, and cabals, of the ſeveral courts of Europe. Many who are reckoned good ſcho- lars, though they know pretty accurately the govern- ments of Athens and Rome, are totally ignorant of the conſtitution of any one country now in Europe, even of their own. Read juſt Latin and Greek enough to keep up your claſſical learning, which wil be an or- nament to you while young, and a comfort to you when old. But the true uſeful knowledge, and eſpe- cially for you, is the modern knowledge above-men- tioned. It is that which muſt qualify you both for do- meſtic and foreign buſineſs, and it is to that, therefore, that you ſhould principally direét your attention; and "I know with great pleaſure, that you do ſo. I would not thus commend you to yourſelf, if I thought com- mendations would have upon you thoſe ill effects which they frequently have upon weak minds. I think you are much above being a vain coxcomb, over-rating your own merit, and inſulting others with the ſuper- abundance of it. On the contrary, I am convinced, that the conſciouſneſs of merit makes a man of ſenſe La Bruyere... La Rochefoucault. 29% more modeſt, though more firm. A man who diſplays his own merit is a coxcom , and a man who does not know it is a fool. A man of ſenſe knows it, exerts it, avails himſelf of it, but I e er boaſts of it; and always ſeems rather to under than over value it, though, in truth, he ſets the right value upon it. A man who is really diffident, timid, and baſhful, be his merit what it will, never can puſh himſelf in the world; his de- ſpondency throws him into inačtion; and the forward, the buſtling, and the petulant, will always get the better of him. The manner makes the whole differ- ence. What would be impudence in one man, is only a proper and decent aſſurance in another. A man of ſenſe, and of knowledge of the world, will aſſert his own rights, and purſue his own objećts, as ſteadily and intrepidly as the moſt impudent man living, and com- monly more ſo; but then he has addreſs enough to give an air of modeſty to all he does. This engages and prevails, whilſt the very ſame things ſhock and fail, from the over-bearing or impudent manner only of doing them. I repeat my maxim, Suavitër in modo, ſed. fortitºr in re.”. Would you know the charaćters, modes, and manners of the latter end of the laſt age, which are very like thoſe of the preſent, read La Bruyere. But would you know man, independently of modes, read La Rochefoucault, who, I am afraid, paints him very exactly. Give the encloſed to abbé Guaſco, of whom you make good uſe, to go about with you, and ſee things. Between you and me, he has more knowledge than parts. Mais un habile homme ſºait tirer parti de tout f : and every body is good for fomething Preſident Mon- feſquieu is, iſ every ſenſe, a moſt uſeful acquaintance. He has parts joined to great reading and knowledge of the world. Adieu ! May the graces attend you. If they do not come to you willingly, raviſh them, and force them to accompany all you think, all you ſay, and all you do. ...sº * Gentle in manner, firm in conduct. f An able man draws advantages from every thing. O 3 [ 294 J LETTER CXI. Manner in Speaking...Parliamentary Orators...Lord Chat- ham...Lord Hansfield...The Citizen turned Gentleman. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, February the 11th. WHEN you go to the play, you muſt certainly have obſerved the very different effects which the ſeveral parts have upon you, according as they are well or ill aćted. The beſt tragedy of Corneille, if well ſpoken and ačted, intereſts, engages, agitates, and affe&ts your paſſions. Love, terror, and pity, alternately poſſeſs you. But, if ill ſpoken and acted, it would only excite your indignation or your laughter. Why? It is ſtill Corneille's; it is the ſame ſenſe, the ſame mat- ter, whether well or ill ačted. It is then merely the manner of ſpeaking and ačting that makes this great difference in the effects. Apply this to yourſelf, and conclude from it, that if you would either pleaſe in a private company, or perſuade in a public aſſembly, air, looks, geſtures, graces, enunciation, proper accents, juſt emphaſis, and tuneful cadences, are full as neceſ- ſary as the matter itſelf. Let awkward, ungraceful, in- elegant, and dull fellows, ſay what they will in behalf of their ſolid matter, and ſtrong reaſonings; and let them deſpiſe all thoſe graces and ornaments which en- gage the ſenſes and captivate the heart; they will find (though they will poſſibly wonder why) that their rough unpoliſhed matter, and their unadorned, coarſe, but ſtrong arguments, will neither pleaſe nor perſuade; but, on the contrary, will tire out attention, and excite diſ- guſt. We are ſo made, we love to be pleaſed, better than to be informed; information is, in a certain de- gree, mortifying, as it implies our previous ignorance; it muſt be ſweetened-to be palatable. - * To bring this direétly to you ; know that no man can make a figure in this country, but by parliament. Your fate depends upon your ſucceſs there as a ſpeaker: and, take my word for it, that ſucceſs turns much more upon manner than matter. , Mr. Pitt, and Mr. Murray, the ſolicitor-general, uncle to Lord Stormont, Manner in Speaking. 295 are, beyond compariſon, the beſt ſpeakers. Why? Only becauſe they are the beſt orators. They alone can in- flame or quiet the houſe; they alone are ſo attended to, in that numerous and noiſy aſſembly, that you might hear a pin fall while either of them is ſpeaking. Is it that their matter is better, or their arguments ſtronger than other people's Does the houſe expect extraor- dinary information from them Not in the leaſt; but the houſe expects pleaſure from them, and therefore at- tends; finds it, and therefore approves. Mr. Pitt, par- ticularly, has very little parliamentary knowledge; his matter is generally flimſy, and his arguments often weak: but his eloquence is ſuperior, his ačtion grace- ful, his enunciation juſt and harmonious; his periods are well turned, and every word he makes uſe of is the very beſt, and the moſt expreſſive, that can be uſed in that place. This, and not his matter, made him pay- maſter, in ſpite of both king and miniſters. From this, draw the obvious concluſion. The ſame thing holds full as true in converſation; where even trifles elegantly expreſſed, well looked, and accompanied with graceful aćtion, will ever pleaſe, beyond all the home-ſpun, un- adorned ſenſe in the world. Refle&t, on one ſide, how you feel within yourſelf, while you are forced to ſuffer the tedious, muddy, and, ill-turned narration of ſome awkward fellow, even though the fact may be intereſt- ing; and, on the other hand, with what pleaſure you attend to the relation of a much leſs intereſting matter, when elegantly expreſſed, genteely turned, and grace- fully delivered. By attending carefully to all theſe agrémens in your daily converſation, they will become habitual to you, before you come into parliament; and you will have nothing then to do, but to raiſe them a little when you come there. I would wiſh you to be ſo attentive to this objećt, that I would not have you ſpeak to your footman but in the very beſt words that the ſubjećt admits of, be the language which it will. Think of your words, and of their arrangement, be- fore you ſpeak; chuſe the moſt elegant, and place them in the beſt order. Conſult your own ear, to avoid ca- cophony; and what is very near as bad, monotony. Think alſo of your geſture and looks, when you are O 4 296 The Citizen turned Gentleman.' - ſpeaking even upon the moſt trifling ſubjećts. The ſame things, differently expreſſed, looked, and delivered, ceaſe to be the ſame things. The moſt paſſionate lover in the world cannot make a ſtronger declaration of love, than the bourgeois gentilhomme * does in this happy form of words, Mourir d’amour me font belle mar- quiſe vs beaux yeux t / I defy any body to ſay more ; and yet I would adviſe nobody to ſay that ; and I would recommend to you, rather to ſmother and conceal your paſſion entirely, than to reveal it in theſe words. . Seriouſly, this holds in every thing, as well as in that Judicrous inſtance. The French, to do them juſtice, attend very minutely to the purity, the correctneſs, and the elegancy of their ſtyle in converſation, and in their letters. Bien marrer f is an objećt of their ſtudy; and though they ſometimes carry it to affeótation, they never fink into inelegancy, which is much the worſt extreme of the two. Obſerve them, and form your French ſtyle upon theirs; for elegancy in one langu.ge wiłł re-produce itſelf in all. I knew a young man, who being juſt eleēted a member of parliament, was laughed at for being diſcovered, through the key-hole of his chamber-door, ſpeaking to himſelf in the glaſs, and forming his looks and geſtures. I could not jºin in that laugh; but, on the contrary, thought him much wiſer than thoſe who laughed at him; for he knew the importance of thoſe little graces in a public aſſembly, and they did not. Your little perſon (which I am told by the way is not ill turned), whether in a laced coat, or a blanket, is ſpecifically the ſame; but yet, I be- lieve, you chuſe to wear the former ; and you are in the right, for the ſake of pleaſing more. The worſt- bred man in Europe, if a lady let fall her fan, would certainly take it up and give it her : the beſt-bred man in Europe could do no more. The difference however would be confiderable; the latter would pleaſe by doing it gracefully; the former would be laughed at for doing it awkwardly. I repeat it, and repeat it ... * Citizen turned gentleman, the charaćter in Moliere from which Foote drew his Commiſſa: y. - - + Beautiful marchionels, your fine eyes cauſe me to dic of love ; To narrate well. - Love and Respect. 297 again, and ſhall never ceaſe repeating it to you—air, manners, graces, ſtyle, elegancy, and all thoſe orna- ments, muſt now be the objećts of your attention; it is now, or never, that you muſt acquire them. Poſt- pone, therefore, all other conſiderations; make them now your ſerious ſtudy : you have not one moment to loſe. The ſolid and the ornamental united are un- doubtedly beſt; but were I reduced to make an option, I ſhould, without heſitation, chuſe the latter. .' -ºº ºm- LETTER CXII. Love and Respect... Martial's celebrated Epigram para- phrased... Dr. Johnson delineated...University of Cam bridge...Bill for reforming the Calendar. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, February the 28th. THIS epigram in Martial, - a w. - Non amo te, Sabidi, nec poſſum dicere quare, Hoc tantum poſſum dicere, non amo te *; has puzzled a great many people, who cannot conceive how it is poſſible not to love any body, and yet not to know the reaſon why. I think I conceive Martial’s meaning very clearly, though the nature of epigram, which is to be ſhort, would not allow him to explain it more fully; and I take it to be this: “O Sabidis, you are a very worthy deſerving man; you have a thouſand good qualities, you have a great deal of learning; I eſteem, I reſpect, but for the ſoul of me I cannot love you, though I cannot particularly ſay why. You are not amiable; you have not thoſe engaging manners, thoſe pleaſing attentions, thoſe graces, and that addreſs, which are abſolutely neceſſary to pleaſe, though im- poſſible to define, . I cannot ſay it is this or that parti- cular thing that hinders me from loving you, it is the whole together; and upon the whole you are not agree- * Thus happily rendered in Engliſh : I do not love thee Dr. Fell, The reaſon why I cannot teil; But I don’t love thee Dr. Fell. f O 5 298 Dr. J ohnson delinealed...Cambridge. able.” How often have I, in the courſe of my life, found myſelf in this fituation, with regard to many of my acquaintance, whom I have honoured and reſpected, without being able to love I did not know why, be- cauſe, when one is young, one does not take the trouble, nor allow one’s-ſelf the time, to analyſe one’s ſentiments, and to trace them up to their ſource. But ſubſequent obſervation and refle&tion have taught me why. There is a man * whoſe moral charaćter, deep learning, and ſuperior parts, I acknowledge, admire, and reſpect; but whom it is ſo impoſſible for me to love, that I am almoſt in a fever whenever I am in his company. His figure (without being deformed) ſeems made to diſgrace or ridicule the common ſtrućture of the human body. His legs and arms are never in the poſition, which, ac- cording to the fituation of his body, they ought to be in ; but conſtantly employed in committing ačts of hoſtility upon the graces. He throws any where, but down his throat, whatever he means to drink; and only mangles what he means to carve. Inattentive to all the regards of ſocial life, he miſ-times or miſ-places every thing. He diſputes with heat, and indiſcrimi- nately; mindleſs of the rank, charaćter, and ſituation of thoſe with whom he diſputes: abſolutely ignorant of the ſeveral gradations of familiarity or reſpect, he is exačtly the ſame to his ſuperiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore, by a neceſſary conſequence, abſurd to two of the three. Is it poſſible to love ſuch a man 2 No. The utmoſt I can do for him, is to con- ſider him as a reſpectable Hottentot. * - I remember, that when I came from Cambridge, I had acquired, among the pedants of that illiberal ſemi- nary, a ſaucineſs of literature, a turn to ſatire and con- tempt, and a ſtrong tendency to argumentation and contradićtion. But I had been but a very little while in the world, before I found that this would by no means do; and I immediately adopted the oppoſite charaćter : I concealed what learning I had ; I ap- plauded often, without approving; and I yielded com- monly, without convićtion. Suaviter in modo was ºmy #. Suppoſed to be Dr. Johnſon. Bill for reforming the Calendar. 299 law and my prophets; and if I pleaſed (between you and me) it was much more owing to that, than to any ſuperior knowledge or merit of my own. A-propos, the word pleaſing puts one always in mind of Lady Hervey: pray tell her, that I declare her reſponſible to me for your pleaſing: that I confider her as a pleafing Falſtaff, who not only pleaſes herſelf, but is the cauſe of pleaſ- ing in others: that I know ſhe can make any thing of any body; and that, as your governeſs, if ſhe does not make you pleaſe, it muſt be only becauſe ſhe will not, and not becauſe ſhe cannot. I hope you are, du bois. domſ on en fait *; and if ſo, ſhe is ſo good a ſculptor, that I am ſure ſhe can give you whatever form ſhe pleaſes. A verſatility of manners is as neceſſary in ſocial, as a verſatility of parts is in political life. One. muſt often yield, in order to prevail; one muſt hum- ble one’s-ſelf, to be exalted; one muſt, like St. Paul, become all things to all men, to gain ſome; and (by the way) men are taken by the fame means, mutatis. mutandis, that women are gained,—by gentleneſs, in- finuation, and ſubmiſfion ; and theſe lines of Mr. Dry- den’s will hold to a miniſter as well as to a miſtreſs : The proſtrate lover, when he loweſt lies, - } But ſtoops to conquer, and but kneels to riſe. * In the courſe of the world, the qualifications of the cameleon are often neceſſary; nay, they muſt be car- ried a little farther, and exerted a little ſooner; for you ſhould, to a certain degree, take the hue of either the man or the woman that you want, and wiſh to be upon terms with. But this is a ſubjećt upon which I ſhall take an early occaſion to enlarge. - I have of late been a fort of an aſtronome malgré moř F, by bringing, laſt Monday, into the houſe of lords, a bill for reforming our preſent calendar, and taking the new ſtyle, upon which occaſion I was obliged to talk ſome aſtronomical jargon, of which I did not underſtand. one word, but got it by heart, and ſpoke it. by rote from a maſter. I wiſhed that I had khown a little more of it myſelf: and ſo much I would have you. * Wood that will bear carving. # An aſtronomer in ſpite of myſelf. f O. - 3) * 360 On the Words • Gentle in Manner, firm in Conduct.” know. But the great and neceſſary knowledge of all is, to know yourſelf and others: this knowledge re- quires great attention and long experience: exert the former, and may you have the latter-Adieu ! - P.S.. I have this moment received your letters of the 27th February, and the 2d March. The ſeal ſhall be done as ſoon as poſſible. I am glad that you are em- ployed in Lord Albemarle's bureau : it will teach you, at leaſt, the mechanical part of that buſineſs, ſuch as folding, entering, and docketing, letters; for you muſt not imagine that you are let into the fin fin of the cor- reſpondence, nor indeed is it fit that you ſhould, at your age. However, uſe yourſelf to ſecrecy as to the letters you either read or write, that in time you may be truſted with ſecret, very ſecret, ſeparate, apart, &c. -º 2 ºme- LETTER CXIII. Comment on the Words ‘ Gentle in Manner, firm in Conduct’ ... Kings and Ministers...Command of Temper. MY DEAR FRIEND, I MENTIONED to you, ſome time ago, a ſentence, which I would moſt earneſtly wiſh you always to re- tain in your thoughts, and obſerve in your condućt. It is ſuaviter in modo, fortitër in re. ... I do not know any one rule ſo unexceptionably uſeful and neceſſary in every part of life. I ſhall therefore take it for my text to-day; and, as old men love preaching, and I have ſome right to preach to you, I here preſent you with my ſermon upon theſe words. To proceed then regu- Tarly and pulpitically; I will firſt ſhow you, my be- Howed the neceſſary connection of the two members of my text, —ſuavitér in modo ; fortiter in re. In the next place, I ſhall ſet forth the advantages and utility reſult- ing from a ſtrićt obſervance of the precept contained inº my text; and conclude with an application of the whole. The ſuaviter in modo alone would degenerate and ſink into a mean, timid complaiſance, and paſſive- neſs, if not ſupported and dignified by the fortiter in re; tº Aïngs and Ministers. 30+ which would alſo run into impetuoſity and brutality, if not tempered and ſoftened by the ſuavitär in modo : however, they are ſeldom united. The warm, choleric man, with ſtrong animal ſpirits, deſpiſes the ſuaviſer in modo, and thinks to Čarry all before him by the fortitºr in re. He may poſſibly, by great accident, now and then ſucceed, when he has only weak and timid people to deal with ; but his general fate will be, to ſhock, offend, be hated, and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty man, thinks to gain all his ends by the ſuaviter in modo only: he becomes all things to all men; he ſeems to have no opinion of his own, and ſervilely adopts the preſent opinion of the preſent perſon ; he inſinuates himſelf only into the eſteem of fools, but is ſoon dete&ted, and ſurely deſpiſed by every body elſe. The wiſe man (who differs as much from the cunning, as from the choleric man) alone joins the ſuaviter in modo with the fortitºr in re.—Now to the advantages ariſing from the ſtrićt obſervance of this precept. Jf you are in authority, and have a right to com- mand, your commands delivered ſuaviter in modo will be willingly, cheerfully, and conſequently well obeyed; whereas, if given only fortiter, that is brutally, they will rather, as Tacitus ſays, be interpreted than exe- . cuted. For my own part, if I bid my footman bring me a glaſs of wine, in a rough inſulting manner, I ſhould expect, that, in obeying me, he would contrive to ſpill ſome of it upon me; and I am ſure I ſhould de- ſerve it. A cool, ſteady reſolution ſhould ſhow, that where you have a right to command, you will be obeyed; but, at the ſame time, a gentleneſs in the manner of enforcing that obedience ſhould make it a cheerful one, and ſoften, as much as poſſible, the mor- tifying conſciouſneſs of inferiority. If you are to aſk a favour, or even to ſolicit your due, you muſt do it ſuaviter in modo, or you will give thoſe, who have a mind to refuſe you either, a pretence to do it, by re- ſenting the manner; but, on the other hand, you muſt, by a ſteady perſeverance and decent tenaciouſneſs, ſhow the fortiter in re. The right, motives are ſeldom the true ones of men's ačtions, eſpecially of kings, mini- ſters, and people in high ſtations, who often give to 302 Command of Temper. importunity and fear what they would refuſe to juſtice or to merit. By the ſuaviter in modo engage their hearts, if you can ; at leaſt, prevent the pretence of offence : but take care to ſhow enough of the fortirer in re to ex- tort from their love of eaſe, or their fear, what you might in vain hope for from their juſtice or good-na- ture. People in high life are hardened to the wants and diſtreſſes of mankind, as ſurgeons are to their baily pains ; they ſee and hear of them all day long, and even of ſo many fimulated ones, that they do not know which are real, and which not. Other ſentiments are therefore to be applied to than thoſe of mere juſtice and humanity; their favour muſt be captivated by the Juavitör in modo: their love of eaſe diſturbed by un- wearied importunity, or their fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of implacable, cool reſentment: this is the true fortiter in re. This precept is the only way I know in the world, of being loved without being de- ſpiſed, and feared without being hated. It conſtitutes the dignity of charaćter, which every wiſe man muſt endeavour to eſtabliſh. - - - Now to apply what has been ſaid, and ſo conclude. If you find that you have a baſtineſs in your temper, which unguardedly breaks out into indiſcreet ſallies, or rough expreſſions, to either your ſuperiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it narrowly, check it carefully, and call the ſuavier in modo to your aſſiſtance: at the firſt impulſe of paſſion, be ſilent, till you can be ſoft. Labour even to get the command of your countenance ſo well, that thoſe emotions may not be read in it;—a moſt unſpeakable advantage in buſineſs . On the other hand, let no complaiſance, no gentleneſs of temper, no weak deſire of pleaſing on your part, no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, on other people's, make you re- cede one jot from any point that reaſon and prudence have bid you purſue; but return to the charge, perſiſt, perſevere, and you will find moſt things attainable that are poſſible. A yielding, timid meekneſs is always abuſed and inſulted by the unjuſt and the unfeeling; but when ſuſtained by the fortiter in re is always re- ſpected, commonly ſucceſsful. In your friendſhips and connections, as well as in your enmities, this rule is: **% Command of Temper. 303 particularly uſeful; let your firmneſs and vigour pre- ſerve and invite attachments to you; but, at the ſame time, let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends and dependants from becoming yours: let your enemies be diſarmed by the gentleneſs of your manner; but let them feel, at the ſame time, the ſteadineſs of your juſt reſentment; for there is great difference be- tween bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, and a reſolute ſelf-defence, which is always prudent and juſtifiable. In negotiations with foreign miniſters, remember the fortiter in re; give up no point, accept of no expedient, till the utmoſt neceſſity reduces you to it, and even then diſpute the ground inch by inch ; but then, while you are contending with the miniſter fortiter in re, remember to gain the man by the ſuavitér in modo. Tell him, in a frank gallant manner, that your miniſterial wrangles do not leſſen your perſonal regard for his merit; but that, on the contrary, his zeal and ability, in the ſervice of his maſter, increaſe it; and that, of all things, you deſire to make a good friend of ſo good a ſervant. By theſe means you may and will very often be gainer,-you never can be a loſer. Some people cannot gain upon themſelves to be eaſy and civil to thoſe who are either their rivals, compe- titors, or oppoſers; though, independently of thoſe ac- cidental circumſtances, they would like and eſteem them. They betray a ſhyneſs and an awkwardneſs in company with them, and catch at any little thing to expoſe them; and ſo, from temporary and only occa- ſional opponents, make them their perſonal enemies. This is exceedingly weak and detrimental, as, indeed, is all humour in buſineſs; which can only be carried on ſucceſsfully, by unadulterated good policy and right reaſoning. In ſuch ſituations I would be more particu- larly and noblement, civil, eaſy, and frank with the man whoſe deſigns H traverſed ; this is commonly called generoſity and magnanimity, but is, in truth, good ſenſe and policy. . The manner is often as important as the matter, ſometimes more ſo; a favour may make an enemy, and an injury may make a friend, according to the different manner in which they are ſeverally done. The countenance, the addreſs, the words, the enuncia- $04 Command of Temper. tion, the graces, add great efficacy to the ſuavitér in modo, and great dignity to the fortitär in re; and con- ſequently they deſerve the utmoſt attention. From what has been ſaid, I conclude with this ob- ſervation, That gentleneſs of manners, with firmneſs of mind, is a ſhort, but full deſcription of human per- fe&tion, on this ſide of religious and moral duties: that you may be ſeriouſly convinced of this truth, and ſhow it in your life and converſation, is the moſt fincere and ardent wiſh of yours. - * , -ººººº- LETTER CXIV. Love and Hatred equally critical...Attentions in Company. ...Constitution of Things at Paris...Difference between Seeing and Staring. MY DEA R FRIEND, London, March the 11th. I RECEIVED by the laſt poſt a letter from abbé Guaſco, in which he joins his repreſentations to thoſe of lord Albemarle, againſt your remaining any longer in your very bad lodgings at the academy; and, as I do not find that any advantage can ariſe to you, from being interne in an academy, which is full as far from the riding-houſe, and from all your other maſters, as your lodgings will probably be, I agree to your remov- ing to an hôtel garni’’; the abbé will help you to find one, as I defire him by the incloſed, which you will give him. I muſt, however, annex one condition to your going into private lodgings, which is, an abſolute excluſion of Engliſh breakfaſts and ſuppers at them ; the former conſume the whole morning, and the latter employ the evenings very ill, in ſenſeleſs, toaſting 3 l'Angloiſe in their infernal claret. You will be ſure to go to the riding-houſe as often as poſſible, that is, whenever your new buſineſs at lord Albemarle's does not hinder you. By the way, you may take your lodgings for one whole year certain, by which means you may get them much cheaper; for though I intend * A futniſhed houſe. :-rº. * . Loce and Hatred equally critical. 365 to ſee you here in leſs than a year, it will be but for a little time, and you will return to Paris again, where I intend you ſhall ſtay till the end of April twelve- month; at which time, provided you have got all le po- fitt/ſº, les manières, les attentions, et les graces du, beau monde, I ſhall place you in ſome buſineſs ſuitable to your deſtination. - - I have received, at laſt, your preſent of the carton, from Dominichino, by Blanchét. It is very finely done; it is pity that he did not take in all the figures of the original. I will hang it up, where it ſhall be your own again ſome time or other. - Mr. Harte is returned in perfeót health from Corn- wall, and has taken poſſeſſion of his prebendal houſe at Windſor, which is a very pretty one. As I dare ſay you will always feel, I hope you will always expreſs, the ſtrongeſt ſentiments of gratitude and friendſhip for him. Write to him frequently, and attend to the let- ters you receive from him. He ſhall be with us at Blackheath, alias Bañole, all the time that I propoſe you ſhall be there, which, I believe, will be the month of Auguſt next. Having thus mentioned to you the probable time of our meeting, I will prepare you a little for it, Hatred, jealouſy, or envy, make moſt people attentive to diſcover the leaſt defeóts of thoſe they do not love; they rejoice at every new diſcovery they make of that kind, and take care to publiſh it. I thank God, I do not know what thoſe three ungenerous paſſions are, having never felt them in my own breaſt ! but love has juſt the ſame effeót upon me, except that I conceal, inſtead of publiſhing, the defeóts. which my attention makes me diſcover in thoſe I love. I curiouſly pry into them ; I analyſe them; and wiſh- ing either to find them perfeót, or to make them ſo, nothing eſcapes me, and I ſoon diſcover every the leaſt gradation towards, or from that perfection. You muſt, therefore, expect the moſt critical examen that ever any body underwent : I ſhall diſcover your leaſt, as well as your greateſt defeats, and I ſhall very freely tell you of them, Non quod odio habeam, ſºd quod amen #. But I ſhall tell them you tête-à tête, and as Micio, not as * Not becauſe I hate, but becauſe I love you. 306 - Difference between Seeing and Staring. Demea ; and I will tell them to nobody elſe. I think it but fair to inform you beforehand, where I ſuſpect that my criticiſms are iikely to fall; and that is more upon the outward, than upon-the in ward man. I nei- ther ſuſpect your heart nor your head ; but, to be plain with you, I have a ſtrange diſtruſt of your air, your addreſs, your manners, your tournure, and parti- cularly of your énunciation and elegancy of ſtyle. Theſe wili be all put to the tria; ; for while you are with me, you muſt do the honours of my houſe and table; the leaſt inaccuracy or inelegancy will not eſcape me ; as you will find by a look at the time, and by a remon- ſtrance afterwards when we are alone. You will ſce a great deal of company of all forts at Babiole, and par- ticularly foreigners. Make, therefore, in the mean time, all theſe exterior and ornamental qualifications your peculiar care, and diſappoint all my imaginary ſchemes of criticiſm. Some authors have criticiſed their own works firſt, in hopes of hindering others from doing it afterwards : but then they do it themſelves with ſo much tenderneſs and partiality for their own production, that not only the produćtion itſelf, but the preventive criticiſm is criticiſed. I am not one of thoſe authors ; but, on the contrary, my ſeverity increaſes with my fondneſs for my work; and if you will but effectually correót all the faults I ſhall find, I will enſure you from all ſubſequent criticiſms from other quarters. Are you got a little into the interior, into the con- ſtitution of things at Paris? Have you ſeen what you have ſeen thoroughly For, by the way, few people ſee what they ſee, or hear what they hear. For exam- ple, if you go to les Invalides, do you content yourſelf with feeing the building, the hall where three or four hundred cripples dine, and the galleries where they lie; or do you inform yourſelf of the numbers, the condi- tions of their admiſſion, their allowance, the value and nature of the fund by which the whole is ſupported 2 This latter I call ſeeing, the former is only ſtaring. Many people take the opportunity of les vacances, to go and fee the empty rooms, where the ſeveral chambers of the parliament did fit; which rooms are exceedingly like all other large rooms: when you go there, let it be . Reformation of the Calendar. 307 when they are full; ſee and hear what is doing in them; learn their reſpective conſtitutions, juriſdićtions, objećts, and methods of proceeding; hear ſome cauſes tried in every one of the different chambers. Appro- fondiſſez les choſes *. - - . . . I am glad to hear that you are ſo well at marquis de St. Germain’s +, of whom I hear a very good charac- ter. How are you with the other foreign miniſters at Paris? Do you frequent the Dutch embaſſador or em- baſſadreſs Have you any footing at the Nuncio’s, or at the Imperial and Spaniſh embaſſadors It is uſeful. Be more particular in your letters to me, as to your manner of paſſing your time, and the company you keep. Where do you dine and ſup ofteneſt ? Whoſe houſe is moſt your home f—Adieu ! * **º-ºººººmanºe-gº LETTER CXV. Reformation of the Calendar...His Lordship's Conduct in that Affair...His Speech in the House ºf Lords...Lord Macclesfield’s ... The pleasing Speaker more ſpada than the well-informed...Lord Bolingbroke's Style, My peAR FRIEND, London, March the 18th. I ACQUAINTED you in a former letter that I had brought a bill into the houſe of lords for correóting and reforming our preſent calendar, which is the Julian ; and for adopting the Gregorian. I will now give you. a more particular account of that affair; from which refle&tions will naturally occur to you, that I hope may be uſeful, and which I fear you have not made. It was notorious, that the Julian calendar was erroneous, and had overcharged the ſolar year with eleven days. Pope Gregory the XIIIth correóted this error; his re- formed calendar was immediately received by all the catholic powers of Europe, and afterwards adopted by all the proteſtant ones, except Ruſſia, Sweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honoura- * Inquire deeply. - . . . . t + At that time embaſſador from the king of Sardinia at the court of France, . - 308. Speeches on the Reformation of the Cafendar. ble for England to remain in a groſs and avowed error, eſpecially in ſuch company; the inconveniency of it was likewiſe felt by all thoſe who had foreign corre. fpondences, whether political or mercantile. I deter- mined, therefore, to attempt the reformation; I con- ſulted the beſt lawyers, and the moſt ſkilful aſtrono- mers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpoſe. But then my difficulty began : I was to bring in this bill, which was neceſſarily compoſed of law jargon and aſtro- nomical calculations, to both which I am an utter ſtranger. However, it was abſolutely neceſſary to make the houſe of lords think that I knew ſomething of the matter; and alſo, to make them believe that they knew ſomething of it themſelves, which they do not. For my own part, I could juſt as ſoon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as aſtronomy, and they would have underſtood me full as well: ſo I reſolved to do better than ſpeak to the purpoſe, and to pleaſe inſtead of informing them. I gave them, therefore, only an hiſtorical account of calendars, from the Egyptian down to the Gregorian, amuſing them now and then with little epiſodes; but I was particularly attentive to the choice of my words, to the harmony and roundneſs of my periods, to my elocution, to my ačtion. This ſuc- &eeded, and ever will ſucceed ; they thought I inform- ed, becauſe I pleaſed then : and many of them ſaid, that 1 had made the whole very clear to them; when, God knows, I had not even attempted it. Lord Mac- clesfield, who had the greateſt ſhare in forming the bill, and who is one of the greateſt mathematicians and aſtronomers in Europe, ſpoke afterwards with infinite knowledge, and all the clearneſs that ſo intricate a mat- ter would admit of: but as his words, his periods, and his utterance, were not near ſo good as mine, the pre- ference was moſt unanimouſly, though moſt unjuſtly, given to me. This will ever be the caſe ; every nu- merous aſſembly is mob, let the individuals who com- poſe it be what they will. Mere reaſon and good ſenſe is never to be talked to a mob : their paſſions, their ſentiments, their ſenſes, and their ſeeming intereſts, are alone to be applied to. Underſtanding they have colle&tively none; but they have ears and eyes, which muſt be flattered and ſeduced; and this can only be Lord Bolingbroke's Style. : 309 done by eloquence, tuneful periods, graceful ačtion, and all the various parts of oratory. When you come into the houſe of commons, if you imagine that ſpeaking plain and unadorned ſenſe and reaſon will do your buſineſs, you will find yourſelf moſt groſly miſtaken. As a ſpeaker, you will be rank- ed only according to your eloquence, and by no means according to your matter; every body knows the mat- ter almoſt alike, but few can adorn it. I was early convinced of the importance and powers of eloquence; and from that moment I applied myſelf to it. I re- ſolved not to utter one word, even in common con- verſation, that ſhould not be the moſt expreſſive, and the moſt elegant, that the language could ſupply me with for that purpoſe; by which means I have acquired ſuch a certain degree of habitual eloquence, that I muſt now really take ſome pains if I would expreſs myſelf very inelegantly. I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which you ſeem by no means to be convinced of yet, that ornaments are at preſent your only objećts. Your ſole buſineſs now is to ſhine, not to weigh. Weight without luſtre is lead. You had better talk trifles elegantly to the moſt trifling wo- man, than coarſe inelegant ſenſe to the moſt ſolid man : you had better return a dropped fan genteely, than give a thouſand pounds awkwardly : and you had better refuſe a favour gracefully, than grant it clumſily. Manner is all, in every thing: it is by manner only that you can pleaſe, and conſequently riſe. All your Greek will never advance you from ſecretary to envoy, or from envoy to embaſſador; but your addreſs, your manner, your air, if good, very probably may, I would, upon my word, much rather that you had lord Bolingbroke's ſtyle and eioquence, in ſpeakin and writing, than all the learning of the Academy of Sciences, the Royal Society, and the two univerſities united. - - Having mentioned lord Bolingbroke's ſtyle, which is, undoubtedly, infinitely ſuperior to any-body's, I would have you read his works, which you have, over and over again, with particular attention to his ſtyle. | '1'ranſcribe, imitate, emulate it, if poſſible: that would -** $10 Knowledge of the IWorld. be of real uſe to you in the houſe of commons, in ne- gotiations, in converſation; with that you may juſtly hope to pleaſe, to perſuade, to ſeduce, to impoſe; and you will fail in thoſe articles, in proportion as you fall ſhort of it. Upon the whole, lay aſide, during your year’s reſidence at Paris, all thoughts of all that dull fellows call ſolid, and exert your utmoſt care to acquire what people of faſhion call ſhining. . . . . Among the commonly called little things, to which you do not attend, your hand-writing is one, which is indeed ſhamefully bad, and illiberal; it is neither the hand of a man of buſineſs, nor of a gentleman, but of a truant ſchool-boy; as ſoon, therefore, as you have done with abbé Nolet, pray get an excellent writing- maſter (fince you think that you cannot teach yourſelf to write what hand you pleaſe), and let him teach you to write a genteel, legible, liberal hand, and quick; not the hand of a procureur, or a writing-maſter, but that ſort of hand in which the firſt commis in foreign bureaus commonly write : for I tell you truly, that were I lord Albemarle, nothing ſhould remain in my bureau, written in your preſent hand. - . In a fortnight or three weeks, you will ſee Sir Charles Hotham at Paris, in his way to Toulouſe, where he is to ſtay a year or two. Pray be very civil to him, but dó not carry him into company, except preſenting him to lord Albemarle ; for as he is not to ſtay at Paris above a week, we do not defire that he ſhould taſte of that diffipation : you may ſhow him a play and an opera, —Adieu, my dear child. . • . § LETTER Cxvi. & Knowledge of the IP,orld...Necessary Accomplishments of a Foreign Minister...Domestic Politics...Death of the Prince of Wales. * # MY DEAR FRIEND, London, March the 25th. WHAT a happy period of your life is this! Pleaſure is now, and ought to be, your buſineſs. While you were younger, dry rules, and unconneéted words, Accomplishments of a Foreign Minister. 311 were the unpleaſant objećts of your labours. When you grow older, the anxiety, the vexations, the diſappoint- ments, inſeparable from public buſineſs, will require the greateſt ſhare of your time and attention; your pleaſures may, indeed, conduce to your buſineſs, and your buſineſs will quicken your pleaſures; but ſtill your time muſt, at leaſt, be divided : whereas now it is wholly your own, and cannot be ſo well employed as in the pleaſures of a gentleman. The world is now the only book you want, and almoſt the only one you ought to read: that neceſſary book can only be read incompany, in pub- lic places, at meals, and in circles. You muſt be in the pleaſures, in order to learn the manners of good. company. In premeditated, or in formal buſineſs, peo- ple conceal, or at leaſt endeavour to conceal, their cha- raēters; whereas pleaſures diſcover them, and the heart . breaks out through the guard of the underſtanding. Thoſe are often propitious moments for ſkilful nego- tiators to improve. In your deſtination particularly, the able condućt of pleaſures is of infinite uſe: to keep a good table, and to do the honours of it gracefully, is abſolutely neceſſary for a foreign miniſter. There is a certain light table chit-chat, uſeful to keep off in proper and too ſerious ſubječts, which is only to be learned in the pleaſures of good company. In truth, it may be trifling; but, trifling as it is, a man of parts, and ex- perience of the world, will give an agreeable turn to it. An engaging addreſs towards the female ſex is often of very great ſervice to foreign miniſters. Women have, direétly or indireétly, a good deal to ſay in moſt courts. The late lord Strafford governed, for a con- ſiderable time, the court of Berlin, and made his own fortune, by being well with madame de Wartemberg, the firſt king of Pruſſia's miſtreſs; and I could name many other inſtances of that kind. Let every other book then give way for the preſent to this great and neceſſary book, the World; of which there are ſo many various readings, that it requires a great deal of time and attention to underſtand it well: contrary to all other books, you muſt not ſtay at home, but go abroad to read it; and, when you ſeek it abroad, you will not find it in bookſellers' ſhops and ſtalls, but in courts, in 312 Domestic Politics...Death of the Prince of Wales. hôtels, at entertainments, balls, aſſemblies, ſpe&tacles, &c. Put yourſelf upon the foot of an eaſy domeſtic, but polite familiarity and intimacy, in the ſeveral French houſes to which you have been introduced. Your pro- feſſion has this agreeable pecularity in it, which is, that it is conneéted with, and promoted by pleaſures; and it is the only one, in which a thorough knowledge of the world, polite manners, and an engaging addreſs, are abſolutely neceſſary. If a lawyer knows his law, a parſon his divinity, and a financier his calculations, each may make a figure and a fortune in his profeſſion, with- out great knowledge of the world, and without the manners of gentlemen. But your profeſſion throws you into all the intrigues, and cabals, as well as pleaſures of courts : in thoſe windings and labyrinths, a know- ledge of the world, a diſcernment of charaćters, a ſup- pleneſs and verſatility of mind, and an elegancy of manners, muſt be your clue: you muſt know how to ſooth and lull the monſters that guard, and how to ad- dreſs and gain the fair that keep, the golden fleece. Theſe are the arts and the accompliſhments abſolutely neceſſary for a foreign miniſter; in which it muſt be owned, to our ſhame, that moſt other nations out-do the Engliſh; and, caeteris pariéus, a French miniſter will get the better of an Engliſh one at any third court in Europe. The cardinal d'Offat was looked upon at Rome as an Italian, and not as a French cardinal ; and monſieur d’Avaux, wherever he went, was never con- fidered as a fot ign miniſter, but as a native, and a per- ſonal friend. Mere plain truth, ſenſe, and knowledge, wili by no means do alone in courts; art and orna- ments muſt come to their aſſiſtance. - The death of the prince of Wales, who was more beloved for his affability and good-nature, than eſteem- ed for his ſteadineſs and conduct, has given concern to many, and apprehenſions to all. The great difference of age in the king and prince George preſents the proſpect of a minority, a diſagreeable proſpect for any nation : . But it is to be hoped, and is moſt probable, that the king, who is now perfeótly recovered of his late indiſpoſition, may live to ſee his grandſon of age. He is, ſeriouſly, a moſt hopeful boy; gentle and good- Courts...Keeping Secrets, &c. 3 13. natured, with good ſound ſenſe. This event has made all ſorts of people here hiſtorians, as well as politicians. Our hiſtories are rummaged for all the particular cir- cumſtances of the ſix minorites we have had ſince the conqueſt; viz. thoſe of Henry III. Edward III. Ri- chard II. Henry VI. Edward V. and Edward VI.; and the reaſonings, the ſpeculations, the conječtures, and the predićtions, you will eaſily imagine, muſt be in- numerable and endleſs, in this nation, where every porter is a conſummate politician. Dočtor Swift ſays, very humourouſly, “Every man knows that he under- ſtands religion and politics, though he never learned them; but many people are conſcious they do not un- derſtand many other ſciences, from having never learn- ed them.”—Adieu ! - -mºº –- LETTER CXVII. * Courts...Keeping Secrets...Study of Astronomy and Geome- try...Lord Chesterfield's Speech...Oratory. • MY DEAR FRIEND, London, April the 7th. HERE you have, all together, the pocket books, the compaſſes, and the patterns. When your three Graces have made their option, you need only ſend me, in a letter, ſmall pieces of the three mohairs they fix upon. If I can find no way of ſending them ſafely, and di- rečtly to Paris, I will contrive to have them left with madame Morel, at Calais, who, being madame Mon- conſeil's agent there, may find means of furthering them to your three ladies, who all belong to your friend madame Monconſeil. You will alſo find, in the packet, a compaſs ring ſet round with little diamonds, which I adviſe you to make a preſent of to abbé Guaſco, who has been uſeful to you, and will continue to be ſo-: as it is a mere bauble, you muſt add to the value of it by your manner of giv- ing it him. All thoſe little gallantries depend entirely upon the manner of doing them; as, in truth, what does not The greateſt favours may be done ſo awk- wardly and bunglingly as offend, and diſagreeable 31 4. Study of Astronomy and Geometry. things may be done ſo agreeably as almoſt to oblige. Endeavour to acquire this great ſecret; it exiſts, it is to be found, and is worth a great deal more than the grand ſecret of the alchymiſts would be if it was, as it is riot, to be found. This is only to be learned in courts, where claſhing views, jarring opinions, and cordial hatreds, are ſoftened, and kept within decent bounds, by politeneſs and manners. Frequent, obſerve, and learn courts. Are you free of that at St. Cloud º Are you often at Verſailles Infinuate and wriggle your- ſelf into favour at thoſe places. L'abbé de la Ville, my old friend, will help you at the latter; your three ladies may eſtabliſh you in the former. The good- breeding de la Pille et de la Cour * are different; but, without deciding which is intrinſically the beſt, that of the court is, without doubt, the moſt neceſſary for you, who are to live, to grow, and to riſe in courts. In two years time, which will be as ſoon as you are fit for it, I hope to be able to plant you in the ſoil of a young court here; where, if you have all the addreſs of a good courtier, you will have a great chance of thriving and flouriſhing. Young favour is eaſily acquired, if the proper means are employed; and, when acquired, it is warm, if not durable; and the warm moments muſt be ſnatched and improved. Do not mention this view of mine for you to any mortal; but learn to keep your own ſecrets, which, by the way, very few people can do." - If your courſe of experimental philoſophy, with abbé Nolét, is over, ºf would have you apply to abbé Sal- lier for a maſter to give you a general notion of aſtro- nomy and geometry; of both which you may know as much as I deſire you ſhould in fix months time. I only deſire that you ſhall have a clear notion of the preſent planetry ſyſtem, and the hiſtory of all the for- mer ſyſtems. Fonténelle's Pluralité des Mondes will al- moſt teach you all you need know upon that ſubjećt. As for geometry, the ſeven firſt books of Euclid will be a ſufficient portion of it for you. It is right to have a general notion of thoſe abſtruſe ſciences, ſo as not to \ * City and court. Judgment in Paintings. 3.15 appear quite ignorant of them, when they happen, as ſometimes they do, to be the topics of converſation; but a deep knowledge of them requires too much time, and engroſſes the mind too much. I repeat it again. and again to you, let the great book of the World be your principal ſtudy. Whatever may be ſaid at Paris of my ſpeech upon the bill for the reformation of the preſent calendar, or whatever applauſe it may have met with here, the whole, I can aſſure you, is owing to the words and to the delivery, but by no means to the matter; which, as I told you in a former letter, I was not maſter of. I mention this again, to ſhow you the importance of well- choſen words, harmonious periods, and good delivery; for, between you and me, lord Macclesfield's ſpeech was, in truth, worth a thouſand of mine. It will ſoon be printed, and I will ſend it you. It is very inſtruc- tive. You ſay, that you wiſh to ſpeak but half as well as I did : you may eaſily ſpeak full as well as ever I did, if you will but give the ſame attention to the ſame objećts that I did at your age, and for many years after- wards; I mean, correótneſs, purity and elegancy of ſtyle, harmony of periods, and gracefulneſs of delivery. Read over and over again the third book of Cicero de Oratore, in which he particularly treats of the ornamen- tal parts of oratory: they are indeed properly oratory, for all the reſt depends only upon common ſenſe, and ſome knowledge of the ſubjećls you ſpeak upon. But if you would pleaſe, perſuade, and prevail in ſpeaking, it muſt be by the ornamental parts of oratory.—Adieu! *-ºſ tº lººse- LETTER CXVIII. Judgment in Paintings...Style of Conversation at Paris... Necessity of adapting ourselves to the Company. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, April the 22d. I APPLY to you now, as to the greateſt virtuoſº of this, or perhaps any other age; one whoſe ſuperior judgment and diſtinguiſhing eye hindered the king of Poland from buying a ºuts at Venice, and whoſe 2. t 316 Style of Conversation at Paris. deciſions in the realms of virtà are final, and without appeal. Now to the point. I have had a catalogue ſent me, for the ſale of ſome pićtures at the apartments of the Sieur Araignon Aperén, valet de chambre de la Reine, Jur le quai de la Mégiffe, ie, au coin de l'Arche Marion. There I obſerve two large pićtures of Titian, as de- ſcribed in the incloſed page of the catalogue, N° 18, which I ſhould be glad to purchaſe, upon two condi- tions; the firſt is, that they be undoubted originals of Titian, in good preſervation; and the other, that they come cheap. To aſcertain the firſt (but without diſ- paraging your ſkill), I wiſh you would get ſome un- doubted connoiſſeurs to examine them carefully; and if, upon ſuch critical examination, they ſhould be unanimouſly allowed to be undiſputed originals of Ti- tian, and well preſerved, then comes the ſecond point, the price: I will not go above two hundred pounds ſterling for the two together; but as much leſs as you can get them for. I acknowledge that two hundred pounds ſeems to be a very ſmall ſum for two undoubted Titians of that ſize; but, on the other hand, as large Italian pićtures are now out of faſhion at Paris, where faſhion decides of every thing, and as theſe pićtures are too large for common rooms, they may poſſibly come within the price above limited. I leave the whole of this tranſačtion (the price excepted, which I will not exceed) to your conſummate ſkill and prudence, with proper advice joined to them. Should you happen to buy them for that price, carry them to your own lodg- ings, and get a frame made to the ſecond, which I ob- ferve has none, exačtly the ſame with the other frame, and have the old one new gilt; and then get them care- fully packed up, and ſent me by Rouen. I hear much of your converſing with les beaux eſprits at Paris: I am very glad of it ; it gives a degree of re- putation, eſpecially at Paris; and their converſation is generally inſtructive, though ſometimes affected. It muſt be owned, that the polite converſation of the men and women of faſhion at Paris, though not always very deep, is much leſs futile and frivolous than ours here. It turns at leaſt upon ſome ſubjećt, ſomething of taſte, ſome point of hiſtory, criticiſm, and even philoſophy; Necessity of adapting ourselves to the Company. 317 which, though probably not quite ſo ſolid as Mr. Locke's, is however better, and more becoming ra- tional beings, than our frivolous diſſertations upon the weather, or upon whiſt. Monſieur du Clos obſerves, and I think very juſtly, qu'il y a 3 preſent en France une fermentation univerſelle de la raiſon qui tend à ſe développer*. Whereas, I am ſorry to ſay, that here that fermenta- tion ſeems to have been over ſome years ago, the ſpirit evaporated, and only the dregs left. Moreover, les beaux eſprits at Paris are commonly well bred, which ours very frequently are not : with the former your manners will be formed; with the latter, wit muſt generally be compounded for at the expenſe of manners. Are you acquainted with Marivaux, who has certainly ſtudied, and is well acquainted with the heart; but who refines ſo much upon its plis et replis f, and de- feribes them ſo affectedly, that he often is unintelligible to his readers, and ſometimes ſo, I dare ſay, to him- ſelf Do you know Crébillon de Fils 2 He is a fine painter, and a pleaſing writer; his charaćters are ad- mirable, and his refle&tions juſt. Frequent theſe peo- ple, and be glad, but not proud, of frequenting them : never boaſt of it, as a proof of your own merit; nor inſult, in a manner, other companies, by telling them affectedly what you, Monteſquieu, and Fonténelle were talking of the other day; as I have known many people do here, with regard to Pope and Swift, who had never been twice in company with either: nor carry into other companies the tone of thoſe meetings of beaux e/prits. Talk of literature, taſte, philoſophy, &c. with them; but with the ſame eaſe talk of pompons, moires, &c. with madame de Blot, if ſhe requires it. Almoſt every ſubjećt in the world has its proper time and place; in which no one is above or below diſcuſſion. The point is, to talk well upon the ſubjećt you talk upon; and the moſt trifling, frivolous ſubjećts, will ſtill give a man of parts an opportunity of ſhowing them. L'uſage du grand monde # can alone teach that. This was the * That there is at preſent in France a general fermentation of reaſon, which tends to a criſis. - T. Foldings and reſoldings. † Frequenting the great world. & P 3 3 IB Attention to Manners. diſtinguiſhing charaćteriſtic of Alcibiades, and a happy one it was; that he could occaſionally, and with ſo much eaſe, adopt the moſt different, and even the moſt oppoſite habits and manners, that each ſeemed natural to him. Prepare yourſelf for the great world, as the athletae uſed to do for their exerciſes; oil (if I may uſe that expreſſion) your mind, and your manners, to give them the neceſſary ſuppleneſs and flexibiity; ſtrength i. will not do, as young people are too apt to think. -ms-- LETTER CXIX. 4ttention to Manners...Corpulency...Behaviour in different Companies. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, May the 2d. TWO accounts, which I have very lately received of you, from two good judges, have put me into great fpirits; as they have given me reaſºnable hopes, that you will ſoon acquire all that I believe you want; I mean the air, the addreſs, the graces, and the manners of a man of faſhion. As theſe two pićtures of you are very unlike that which I received, and ſent you ſome months ago, I will name the two painters: the firſt is an old friend and acquaintance of mine, monſieur D'Aillon. His pićture is, I hope, like you; for it is a very good one: monſieur Tollot's is ſtill a better; and ſo advantageous a one, that I will not ſend you a copy of it, for fear of making you too vain. So far I will tell you, that there was only one but in either of their accounts; and it was this : I gave D’Aillon the queſ- tion, ordinary and extraordinary, upon the important article of manners; and extorted this from him : “But, ſince you will know it, he ſtill wants that laſt beautiful varniſh, which raiſes the colours, and gives brilliancy to the piece. Be perſuaded that he will acquire it; he has too much ſenſe not to know its value; and, if I am not greatly miſtaken, more perſons than one are now endeavouring to give it him.” Monfieur Tollot ſays, “ In order to be exačtly all that you wiſh him, he only Corpulency...Enumciation. 3.19 wants thoſe little nothings, thoſe graces in détail, and that amiable eaſe, which can only be acquired by uſage of the great world. I am aſſured that he is, in that reſpect, in good hands.” I congratulate you and my- ſelf upon your being ſo near that point at which I ſo anxiouſly wiſh you may arrive... I am ſure, that all your attention and endeavours will be exerted ; and, if exerted, they will ſucceed. Mr. Tollot ſays, that you are inclined to be fat; but I hope you will decline it as much as you can ; not by taking any thing corroſive to make you lean, but by taking as little as you can of thoſe things that would make you fat. Drink no cho- colate, take your coffee without cream : you cannot poſſibly avoid ſuppers at Paris, unleſs you avoid com- pany too, which I would by no means have you do; but eat as little at ſupper as you can, and make even an allowance for that little at your dinners. Take, occa- fionally, a double doſe of riding and fencing; and now that the ſummer is come, walk a good deal in the Tuilleries: it is a real inconveniency to any body to be fat; and, beſides, it is upgraceful for a young fellow. A-propos, I had like to have forgotten to tell you, that I charged Tollot to attend particularly to your utter- ance and dićtion; two points of the utmoſt importance. To the firſt he ſays, “ His enunciation is not bad, but it is to be wiſhed that it was ſtill better; and he ex- preſſes himſelf with more fire than elegancy. Uſage of good company will inſtrućt him likewiſe in that.” Theſe, I allow, are all little things, ſeparately ; but, aggregately, they make a moſt important and great ar- ticle in the account of 'a gentleman. In the houſe of commons you can never make a figure, without ele- gancy of ſtyle, and gracefulneſs of utterance; and you can never ſucceed as a courtier at your own court, or as a miniſter at any other, without thoſe innumerable petits riens dans les manières et dans lef attentions *. Mr. Yorke is by this time at Paris; make your court to him, but not ſo as to diſguſt, in the leaſt, lord Albe- marle, who may poſſibly diſlike your confidering Mr. Yorke as the man of buſineſs, and him as only pour * Little nothings in the manners and attentions, A P 4 320 Behaviour in different Companies. orner la ſcene *. Whatever your opinion may be upon that point, take care not to let it appear; but be well with them both, by ſhowing no public preference to either. ...” - - Though I muſt neceſſarily fall into repetitions, by treating the ſame ſubjećt ſo often, I cannot help recom- mending to you again the utmoſt attention to your air. and addreſs. Learn to fit genteely in different com- panies; to loll genteely, and with good manners, in thoſe companies where you are authoriſed to be free, and to fit up reſpectfully where the ſame freedom is not allowable. Learn even to compoſe your countenance occaſionally to the reſpectful, the cheerful, and the infinuating. Take particular care that the motions of your hands and arms be eaſy and graceful; for the genteelneſs of a man conſiſts more in them than in any thing elſe. Deſire ſome women to tell you of any little awkwardneſs that they obſerve in your carriage : the are the beſt judges of thoſe things; and if they are ſatis- fied, the men will be ſo too. Think, now, only of the decorations. Are you acquainted with madame Geof- frain, who has a great deal of wit, and who, I am in- formed, receives only the very beſt company in her houſe. Do you know madame du Pin, who, I remem- ber, had beauty, and I hear has wit and reading I could wiſh you to converſe only with thoſe, who, ei- ther from their rank or their merit, require conſtant at- tention ; for a young man can never improve in com- pany, where he thinks he may negle&t himſelf. A new bow muſt be conſtantly kept bent; when it grows older, and has taken the right turn, it may now and then be relaxed. I have this moment paid your draft of 4.89. I 5 s. it was figned in a very good hand; which proves that a good hand may be written without the aſſiſtance of magic. Nothing provokes me much more, than to hear people indolently ſay, that they cannot do what is in every body's power to do, if it be but in their will.—Adieu ! f # To fill up the ſcene. * - [ 321 J LETTER CXX. A decisive and peremptory Manner censwed... Address in conducting an Arguinent. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, May the 6th. THE beſt authors are always the ſevereſt critics of their own works ; they reviſe, correót, file, and poliſh them, till they think they have brought them to perfec- tion. Confidering you as my work, I do not look upon myſelf as a bad author, and am therefore a ſevere critic. I examine narrowly into the leaſt inaccuracy or inele- gancy, in order to correót, not to expoſe them, and that the work may be perfeót at laſt. You are, I know, exceedingly improved in your air, addreſs, and manners, ſince you have been at Paris; but ſtill there is, I be- lieve, room for farther improvement, before you come to that perfeótion which I have ſet my heart upon ſee- ing you arrive at ; and till that moment I muſt conti- nue filing and poliſhing. In a letter that I received by laſt poſt, from a friend of yours at Paris, there was this paragraph:-‘‘I have the honour to aſſure you, with- out flattery, that Mr. Stanhope ſucceeds beyond what might be expected from a perſon of his age. He goes into very good company; and that kind of manner, which was at firſt thought to be too deciſive and pe- remptory, is now judged otherwiſe; becauſe it is ac- knowledged to be the effeót of an ingenuous frankneſs, accompanied by politeneſs, and by a proper deference. He ſtudies to pleaſe, and ſucceeds. Madame de Pui- fieux was the other day ſpeaking of him with compla- cency and friendſhip. You will be ſatisfied with him in all reſpects.” This is extremely well, and I rejoice at it: one little circumſtance only may, and I hope will, be altered for the better. Take pains to undeceive thoſe who thought that your manner was a little too deciſive and peremptory: as it is not meant ſo, let it not ap- pear ſo. Compoſe your countenance to an air of gen- tleneſs and douceur; uſe ſome expreſſions of diffidence of your own opinion, and deference to other people’s ; ſuch as, If I might be permitted to ſay—I ſhould think— Isit not rather ſo? At leaſt, I have the greateſt reaſon P 5 322 A decisive and peremptory Manner ce...sured. to be diffident of myſelf—Such mitigatiºs, engaging words do by no means weaken your argument; but, on the contrary, make it more powerful, by making it more pleaſing. If it is a quick and haſty manner of ſpeaking that people miſtake for decided and peremp- tory, prevent their miſtakes for the future by ſpeaking more deliberately, and taking a ſofter tone of voice: as in this caſe you are free from the guilt, be free from the fuſpicion too. Mankind, as I have often told you, is more governed by appearances than by realities: and, with regard to opinion, one had better be really rough and hard, with the appearance of gentleneſs and ſoft- neſs, than juſt the reverſe. Few people have pere- tration enough to diſcover, attention enough to obſerve, or even concern enough to examine, beyond the exte- rior; they take their notions from the ſurface, and go no deeper; they commend, as the gentleſt and beſt- natured man in the world, that man who has the moſt engaging exterior manner, though poſſibly they have been but once in his company. An air, a tone of voice, a compoſure of countenance to mildneſs and fofineſs, which are all eaſily acquired, do the buſineſs; and without farther examination, and poſſibly with the contrary qualities, that man is reckoned the gentleſt, the modeſteſt, and the beſt-natured man alive. Happy the man who, with a certain fund of parts and know- ledge, gets acquainted with the world early enough to make it his bubble, at an age when moſt people aſe the bubbles of the world ! for that is the common caſe of youth. They grow wifer when it is too late; and, aſhamed and vexed at having been bubbles ſo long, too often turn knaves at laſt. Do not therefore truſt to appearances and outſide yourſelf, but pay other people with them ; becauſe you may be ſure that nine in ten of mankind do, and ever will, truſt to them. This is by no means a criminal or blameable fimulation, if not uſed with an ill intention. I am by no means blame- able in deſiring to have other people's good word, good will, and affection, if I do not mean to abuſe them. Your heart, I know, is good, your ſenſe is ſound, and your knowledge extenſive. What then remains for you to do? Nothing, but to adorn thoſe fundamental qua- Argument. ..Pictures, &c. 323 lifications with ſuch engaging and captivating man- ners, ſoftneſs, and gentleneſs, as will endear you to thoſe who are able to judge of your real merit, and which al- ways ſtand in the ſtead of merit with thoſe who are not. I do not mean by this to recommend to you the inſipid ſoftneſs of a gentle fool : no, aſſert your own . opinion, oppoſe other people's when wrong; but let your manner, your air, your terms, and your tone of voice be ſoft and gentle, and that eaſily and naturally, not affe&tedly. Uſe palliatives when you contradićt; ſuch as, I may be miſtaken, I am not ſure, but I be- lieve, I ſhould rather think, &c. Finiſh any argu- ment or diſpute with ſome little good-humoured plea- ſantry, to ſhow that you are neither hurt yourſelf, nor meant to hurt your antagoniſt; for an argument, kept up a good while, often occaſions a tenſporary alienation on each ſide. Pray obſerve particularly, in thoſe French people who are diſtinguiſhed by that charaćter, cette douceur de maeurs et de manières *, which they talk of ſo much, and value ſo juſtly; ſee in what it con- ſiſts; in mere trifles, and moſt eaſy to be acquired, where the heart is really good. Imitate, copy it, till it becomes habitual and eaſy to you. Adieu !—I have not heard from you theſe three weeks, which I think a great while. —-m- LETTER CXXI. Pictures...Rembrandt...Acquaintances and Friends...Ma- thematics, &c. MY DEAR FRIEND, - London, May the 10th. I RECEIVED yeſterday, at the ſame time, your letters of the 4th and the 11th ; and being much more careful of my commiſſions than you are of yours; I do not de- lay one moment ſending you my final inſtructions con- cerning the pićtures. The man you allow to be a Ti- tian, and in good preſervation; the woºnan is an indif. * That ſoftneſs of manners. * P 6 324 Rembrandt....Acquaintances and Friends. ferent and a damaged pićture; but, as I want them for furniture for a particular room, companions are neceſ- fary; and therefore I am willing to take the woman, for better for worſe, upon account of the man; and if ſhe is not too much damaged, I can have her tolerably re- paired, as many a fine woman is, by a ſkilful hand here; but then I expe&t the lady ſhould be, in a manner, thrown into the bargain with the man : and, in this ftate of affairs, the woman being worth little or nothing, I will not go above fourſcore louis for the two toge- ther. As for the Rembrandt you mention, though it is very cheap if good, I do not care for it. I love la belle mature; Rembrandt paints caricaturas. -- I would, by all means, have you go now and then, for two or three days, to maréchal Coigny’s, at Orli; it is but a proper civility to that family, which has been particularly civil to you; and moreover, I would have you familiariſe yourſelf with, and learn the interior and domeſtic manners of people of that rank and faſhion. I alſo deſire that you will frequent Verſailles and St. Cloud, at both which courts you have been received with diſtinétion. Profit by that diſtinétion, and fami- liariſe yourſelf at both. Great courts are the ſeats of true good-breeding; you are to live at courts, loſe no time in learning them. Go and ſtay ſometimes at Ver- failles for three or four days, where you will be domeſtic in the beſt families, by means of your friend madame de Puifieux, and mine, l'abbé de la Ville. Go to the king's and the dauphin’s levees, and diſtinguiſh yourſelf from the reſt of your countrymen, who, I dare ſay, never go there when they can help it. Though the young Frenchmen of faſhion may not be worth forming inti- mate conne&tions with, they are well worth making ac- quaintance with ; and I do not ſee how you can avoid it, frequenting ſo many good French houſes as you do, where, to be ſure, many of them come. Becautious how you contraćt friendſhips, but be deſirous, and even induſtrious, to obtain an univerſal acquaintance. Be eaſy, and even forward, in making new acquaintances; that is the only way of knowing manners and charac- ters in general, which is, at preſent, your great objećt, Graces of Manner &nd Behaviour. - 325 : You are emfºnt de famille * in three miniſters’ houſes; but I wiſh you had a footing, at leaſt, in thirteen; and that, I ſhould think, you might eaſily bring about, by that common chain, which, to a certain degree, con- neéts thoſe you do not with thoſe you do know. For inſtance, I ſuppoſe that neither lord Albemarle, nor marquis de St. Germain, would make the leaſt difficulty to preſent you to comte Caunitz, the Nuncio, &c. . When you have got your emaciated Philomath, I de- fire that his triangles, rhomboids, &c. may not keep you one moment out of the good company you would otherwiſe be in. Swallow all your learning in the morning, but digeſt it in company in the evenings. The reading of ten new charaćters is more your buſi- neſs now than the reading of twenty old books: ſhow- iſh and ſhining people always get the better of all others, though ever ſo ſolid. If you would be a great man in the world when you are old, ſhine and be ſhowiſh in it while you are young; know every body, and endeavour to pleaſe every body, I mean exteriorly; s for fundamentally it is impoſſible. Modes and man- ners vary in different places, and at different times; you muſt keep pace with them, know them, and adopt them . wherever you find them. The great uſage of the world, the knowledge of charaćters, is all that you now want. Study the, beau monde with great application; but read Homer and Horace only when you have nothing elſe to do. . Adieu ! Send me your patterns by the next poſt, and alſo your inſtrućtions to Grevenkop about the ſeal, which you ſeem to have forgotten. -*- .* LETTER CXXII. Graces of Manner and Behaviour easily acquired...Instance in 43/oung Recruit...Elegance of Language. - MY DEAR Friend, $ - London, May the 16th. IN about three months, from this day, we ſhall pro- bably meet, I look upon that moment as a young * One of the family, 326 Grace of Manner...Young Recruit. woman does upon her bridal night; I expe&t the greateſt pleaſure, and yet cannºt help fearing ſome little mixture of pain. My reaſon bids me doubt a little, of what my imagination makes me expect. In ſome arti- cles, I am very ſure that my moſt ſanguine wiſhes will not be diſappointed ; and thoſe are the moſt material ones. In others, f fear ſomething or other, which I can better feel than deſcribe. However, I will attempt it. I fear the want of that amiable and engaging je ne ſcais quoi, which, as ſome philoſophers have, unintel- ligibly enough, ſaid of the ſoul, is all in all, and all in every part; it ſhould ſhed its influence over every word and ačtion. I fear the want of that air, and firſt abord, which ſuddenly lays hold of the heart, one does not know diſtinétly how nor why. I fear an inaccuracy, or, at leaſt, inelegancy of dićtion, which will wrong, and lower, the beſt and juſteſt matter. And, laſtly, I fear an ungraceful, if not an unpleaſant utterance, which would diſgrace and vilify the whole. Should theſe fears be at preſent founded, yet the objećts of them are (thank God) of ſuch a nature, that you may, if you pleaſe, between this and our meeting, remove every one of them. All theſe engaging and endearing accompliſhments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care and obſervation, as eaſily as turning or any me- chanical trade. A common country fellow, taken from the plough, and inliſted in an old corps, ſoon lays afide his ſhambling gait, his ſlouching air, his clumſy and awkward motions, and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and the whole exerciſe of the corps, and particularly of his right and left hand man. How ſo * Not from his parts, which were juſt the ſame before as after he was inliſted; but either from a comº, mendable ambition of being like, and equal to thoſe he is to live with ; or elſe from the fear of being pu- niſhed for not being ſo. If then both or either of theſe motives change ſuch a fellow, in about ſix months’ time, to ſuch a degree as that he is not to be known again, how much ſtronger ſhould both theſe motives be with you to acquire, in the utmoſt perfeótion, the whole exerciſe of the people of faſhion, with whom you are to live all your life Ambition ſhould make sº Books that teach to know Mankind. 327 you reſolve to be at leaſt their equal in that exerciſe, as well as the fear of puniſhment, which moſt inevi- tably will attend the want of it. By that exerciſe, I mean the air, the manners, the graces, and the ſtyle of people of faſhion. A friend of yours, in a letter I re- ceived from him by the laſt poſt, after ſome other com- mendations of you, ſays, “It is ſurpriſing, that, think- ing with ſo much ſolidity as he does, and having ſo true and refined a taſte, he ſhould expreſs himſelf with ſo little elegancy and delicacy. He even totally negle&ts the choice of words and turn of phraſes.” This I ſhould not be ſo much ſurpriſed or concerned at, if it related only to the Engliſh language; which, hitherto, you have had no opportunity of ſtudying, and but few of ſpeaking, at leaſt to thoſe who could correót your inaccuracies. But if you do not expreſs yourſelf ele- gantly and delicately in French and German (both which languages I know you poſſeſs perfeótly, and ſpeak eternally) it can be only from an unpardonable inattention to what you moſt erroneouſly think a little objećt, though in truth it is one of the moſt important of your life. Solidity and delicacy of thought muſt be given us, it cannot be acquired, though it may be improved; but elegancy and delicacy of expreſfion may be acquired by whoever will take the neceſſar care and pains. I am ſure you love me ſo well, that you would be very ſorry, when we meet, that I ſhould be either diſappointed or mortified; and I love you ſo well, that I aſſure you I ſhould be both, if I ſhould find you want any of thoſe exterior accompliſhments which are the indiſpenſably neceſſary ſteps to that figure and fortune, which I ſo earneſtly wiſh you may one *day make in the world. - -º- LETTER CXXIII, Books that teach.to know Mankind... La Rochefoucault...La Bruyere...Marchioness of Lambert’s Advice to her Son... Courts and Cottages compared. MY DEA R FRIEND, Greenwich, June the 6th. SOLICITOUS and anxious as I have ever been to form your heart, your mind, and your manners, and 323 La Rochefoucault...La Bruyère. to bring you as near perfeótion as the imperfeótion of our natures will allow, I have exhauſted, in the courſe of our correſpondence, all that my own mind could ſuggeſt, and have borrowed from others whatever I thought could be uſeful to you; but this has neceſſarily been interruptedly, and by ſnatches. It is now time, and you are of an age to review and to weigh in your own mind, all that you have heard, and all that you have read upon theſe ſubjećts, and to form your own charaćter, your condućt, and your manners, for the reſt of your life; allowing for ſuch improvements as a farther knowledge of the world will naturally give you. In this view I would recommend to you to read, with the greateſt attention, ſuch books as treat parti- cularly of thoſe ſubjects; refle&ting ſeriouſly upon them, and then comparing the ſpeculation with the pračtice. For example, if you read in the morning ſome of la Rochefoucault's maxims, confider them, examine them weii, and compare them with the real charaćters you meet with in the evening. Read la Bruyere in the morning, and ſee in the evening whe- ther his pićtures are like. Study the heart and the mind of man, and begin with your own. Meditation and reflection muſt lay the foundation of that know- ledge; Büt experience and pračtice muſt, and alone can, complete it. Books, it is true, point out the ope- rations of the mind, the ſentiments of the heart, the influence of the paſſions; and ſo far they are of previ- ous uſe : but without ſubſequent pračtice, experience, and obſervation, they are as ineffectual, and would even lead you into as many errors in fact, as a map would do, if you were to take your notions of the towns and provinces from their delineations in it. Aº man would reap very little benefit by his travels, if he made them only in his cloſet upon a map of the whole world. Next to the two books that I have already mentioned, I do not know a better for you to read and ſeriouſly refle&t upon than avis d'une mere à un fils par la marquiſe de Lambert. She was a woman of a ſuperior underſtanding and knowledge of the world, had al- ways kept the beſt company, was ſolicitous that her ſon ſhould make a figure and a fortune in the world, Marchioness of Lambert's Advice to her Son. 329 and knew better than any body how to point out the means. It is very ſhort, and will take you much leſs time to read than you ought to employ in refie&ting upon it after you have read it. Her ſon was in the army; ſhe wiſhed he might riſe there; but ſhe well knew, that, in order to riſe, he muſt firſt pleaſe: ſlie ſays to him, therefore, “With regard to thoſe upon whom you depend, the chief merit is a pleaſe.” And, in another place, “In ſubaltern employments, the art of pleafing muſt be your ſupport. Maſters are like mi- ſtreſſes; whatever ſervices they may be indebted to you for, they ceaſe to love when you ceaſe to be agreeable.” This, I can aſſure you, is at leaſt as true in courts as in camps, and poſſibly more ſo. If to your merit and knowledge you add the art of pleaſing, you may very probably come in time to be ſecretary of ſtate; but, take my word for it, twice your merit and knowledge, without the art of pleaſing, would at moſt raiſe you to the important poſt of reſident at Hamburg or Ratiſbon. I need not tell you now, for I often have, and your own diſcernment muſt have told you, of what num- berleſs little ingredients that art of pleaſing is com- pounded, and how the want of the leaſt of them lowers the whole. Madame Lambert tells her ſon, “Let your conneétions be with people above you; by that means you will acquire a habit of reſpect and politeneſs, With one's equals one is apt to become negligent, and the mind grows torpid.” She adviſes him, too, to fre- quent thoſe people, and to ſee their inſide. “In order to judge of men, one muſt be intimately conneéted ; thus you ſee them without a veil, and with their mere every-day merit.” A happy expreſſion It was for this reaſon-that I have ſo often adviſed you to eſtabliſh and domeſticate yourſelf, wherever you can, in good houſes. of people above you, that you may ſee their every- day charaćter, manners; habits, &c. One muſt ſee people undreſſed, to judge truly of their ſhape; when they are dreſſed to go abroad, their cloaths are con- trived to conceal, or at leaſt palliate, the defeóts of it: as full-bottomed wigs were contrived for the duke of Burgundy, to conceal his hump back. Happy thoſe who have no faults to diſguiſe, nor weakneſſes to con- ~ 330 Directions for Conduct and Behaviour. ceal there are few, if any ſuch : but unhappy thoſe, who know ſo little of the world as to judge by outward appearances. Courts are the beſt keys to charaćters; there every paſſion is buſy, every art exerted, every charaćter analyſed : jealouſy, ever watchful, not only diſcovers but expoſes the myſteries of the trade, ſo that even by-ſtanders learn there to divine. There too the great art of pleaſing is pračtiſed, taught, and learned, with all its graces and delicacies. It is the firſt thing needful there: it is the abſolutely neceſſary harbinger of merit and talents, let them be ever ſo great. There is no advancing a ſtep without it. Let miſanthropes and would-be philoſophers declaim as much as they pleaſe againſt the vices, the ſimulation, and diffinulation of courts; thoſe invečtives are always the reſult of ignorance, ill-humour, or ven vy. Let them ſhow me a cottage where there are not the ſame vices of which they accuſe courts; with this difference only, that in a cottage they appear in their native de- formity, and that in courts, manners and good-breed- ing make them leſs ſhocking, and blunt their edge.— No, be convinced that the good-breeding, the tournure, Ha douceur dans les manières, which alone are to be ac- guired at courts, are not the ſhowiſh trifles only which forme people call or think them : they are a ſolid good ; they sprevent a great deal of real miſchief; they create, adorn, and ſtrengthen friendſhips; they keep hatred within bounds; they promote good-humour and good-will in families, where the want of good-breeding and gentleneſs of manners is commonly the original cauſe of diſcord. -mº ºm- LETTER CXXIV. Directions for Conduct and Behaviour in the Company of great Persons...In mixt Companies...Respect to different Characters. - - MY DEAR FRIEND, Greenwich, June the 13th. LES Bienſéances” are a moſt neceſſary part of the knowledge of the world. They conſiſt in the relations * This fingle word implies decorum, good-breeding, and pro- priety. - In the Company of great Persons...In mirt Companies. 331 of perſons, things, time, and place; good ſenſe points them out, good company perfeóts them (ſuppoſing always an attention and a deſire to pleaſe), and good policy recommends them. - Were you to converſe with a king, you ought to be as eaſy and unembarraſſed as with your own valet de chambre : but yet every look, word, and ačtion, ſhould imply the utmoſt reſpect. What would be proper and well-bred with others, much your ſuperiors, would be abſurd and ill-bred with one ſo very much ſo. You muſt wait till you are ſpoken to ; you muſt receive, not give, the ſubjećt of converſation; and you muſt even take care that the given ſubjećt of ſuch converſa- tion do not lead you into any impropriety. The art would be to carry it, if poſſible, to ſome indireét flat- tery : ſuch as commending thoſe virtues in ſome other perſon, in which that prince either thinks he does, or at leaſt would be thought by others to excel. Almoſt the ſame precautions are neceſſary to be uſed with mi- niſters, generals, &c. who expe&t to be treated with very near the ſame reſpect as their maſters, and com- monly deſerve it better. There is, however, this dif- ference, that one may begin the converſation with them, if on their ſide it ſhould happen to drop, pro- vided one does not carry it to any ſubječt upon which it is improper either for them to ſpeak or be ſpoken to. In theſe two caſes certain attitudes and actions would be extremely abſurd, becauſe too eaſy, and conſe- quently diſreſpectful. As for inſtance, if you were to put your arms acroſs in your boſom, twirl your ſnuff- box, trample with your feet, ſcratch your head, &c., it would be ſhockingly ill-bred in that company, and in- deed not extremely well-bred in any other. The great difficulty in thoſe caſes, though a very ſurmountable one by attention and cuſtom, is to join perfeót inward eaſe with perfeót outward reſpe&t. In mixed companies with your equals (for in mixed companies all people are to a certain degree equal) greater eaſe and liberty are allowed; but they too have their bounds within bienſéance. There is a ſocial re- ſpect neceſſary': you may ſtart your own ſubjećt of converſation with modeſty, taking great care, however, 332 Respect to different Characters. de me jamais parler de cordes dams la maiſon d'un pendá.* Your words, geſtures, and attitudes, have a greater de- gree of latitude, though by no means an unbounded one. You may have your hands in your pockets, take ſnuff, fit, ſtand, or occaſionally walk, as you like : but I believe you would not think it very bien/?ant to whiſtle, put on your hat, looſen your garters or your buckles, lie down upon a couch, or go to bed and wel- ter in an eaſy chair. Theſe are negligences and free- doms which one can only take when quite alone : they are injurious to ſuperiors, ſhocking and offenſive to equals, brutal and inſulting to inferiors. That eaſineſs of carriage and behaviour, which is exceedingly en- gaging, widely differs from negligence and inattention, and by no means implies that one may do whatever one pleaſes : it only means that one is not to be ſtiff, for- mal, embarraſſed, diſconcerted, and aſhanned, like country bumpkins, and people who have never been in good company; but it requires great attention to, and . a ſcrupulous obſervation of les bienſéances : whatever one ought to do is to be done with eaſe and uncon- cern; whatever is improper muſt not be done at all.— in mixed companies alſo, different ages and ſexes are to be differently addreſſed. Men of a certain age, gravity, and dignity, juſtly expect from young people a degree of deference and regard. You ſhould be full as eaſy with them as with people of your own years : but your manner muſt be different; more reſpect muſt be implied; and it is not amiſs to infinuate, that from them you expe&t to learn. It flatters and comforts age, for not being able to take a part in the joy and titter of youth." To women you ſhould always addreſs yourſelf with great outward reſpect and attention, whatever you feel in wardly; their ſex is by long prefcription entitled to it, and it is among the duties of bienſéance : at the ſame time, that reſpe&t is very properly and very agree- ably mixed with a degree of enjouement, if you have it. But here too, great attention muſt be had to the dif- ference of age, rank, and ſituation. A maréchale of * Never to mention a rope in the family of a man witc has been hanged. 27 Directions for Conduct and Behaviour. 333 fifty muſt not be played with like a young coquette of fifteen : reſpect and ſerious enjouement, if I may couple thoſe two words, muſt be uſed with the former, and mere badimage is pardonable with the latter. Another important point of les bienſéances, ſeldom enough attended to, is, not to run your own preſent humour and diſpoſition indiſcriminately againſt every body : but to obſerve, conform to, and adopt theirs. For example: if you happened to be in high good- humour, and a flow of ſpirits, would you go and fing a pont neuf ’, or cut a caper, to la maréchale de Coigny, the Pope's Nuncio, or abbé Sallier, or to any perſon of natural gravity and melancholy, or who at that time ſhould be in-grief? I believe not ; as, on the other hand, I ſuppoſe, that if you were low in ſpirits, or real grief, you would not chuſe to bewail your ſituation with madame Blot. If you cannot command your preſent humour and diſpoſition, ſingle out thoſe to converſe with who happen to be in the humour the neareſt to your own. - - Loud laughter is extremely inconſiſtent with les bien- ſtances, as it is only the illiberal and noiſy teſtimony of the joy of the mob at ſome very filly thing. A gen- tleman is often ſeen, but very ſeldom heard to laugh. Nothing is more contrary to les bienſéances than horſe play, or jeux de main of any kind whatever, and has often very ſerious, ſometimes very fatal conſequences. Romping, ſtruggling, throwing things at one another's head, are the becoming pleaſantries of the mob, but degrade a gentleman ; Giuoco di mano, giuoco di villanof, is a very true ſaying, among the few true ſayings of the Italians. - Peremptorineſs and deciſion in young people is con- traire aux bienſéances : they ſhould ſeldom ſeem to aſſert, and always uſe ſome mitigating expreſfion, which ſoft. ens the manner without giving up or even weakening the thing. People of more age and experience expect, and are entitled to, that degree of deference, . There is a bienſéance alſo with regard to people of the loweſt degree; a gentleman obſerves it with his foot- # Ballad. . + Manual wit is the wit of the vulgar, i; 334 Directions for Conduct and Behaviour. man, even with a beggar in the ſtreet. He conſiders them as objećts of compaſſion, not of inſult; he ſpeaks to neither d'un ton &ruſque, but correóts the one coolly, and refuſes the other with humanity. There is no one occaſion in the world in which le ton braſue is becom- ing a gentleman. In ſhort, les &ienſéances are another word for manners, and extend to every part of life.— They are propriety ; the Graces ſhould attend to com- plete them ; the Graces enable us to do genteely and pleaſingly what les bienſéances require to be done at all. The latter are an obligation upon every man; the for- mer are an infinite advantage and ornament to any II)3 fl. Now, that all tumultuous paſſions and quick ſenſa- tions have ſubſided with me, and that I have no tor- menting cares nor boiſterous pleaſures to agitate me, my greateſt joy is to confider the fair proſpect you have before you, and to hope and believe you will enjoy it. You are already in the world, at an age when others have hardly heard of it. Your charaćter is hitherto not only unblemiſhed in its moral part, but even unſullied by any low, dirty, and ungentleman-like-vice; and will, I hope, continue ſo. Your knowledge is ſound, extenſive, and avowed, eſpecia'ly in every thing rela- tive to your deſtination. With ſuch materials to begin, what then is wanting 2 Not fortune, as you have found by experience. You have had, and ſhall have, fortune ſufficient to aſſiſt your merit and your induſtry; and, if I can help it, you never ſhall have enough to make you negligent of either. You have, too, mens ſana in corpore ſano”, the greateſt bleſfing of all. All there- fore that you want, is as much in your power to ac- quire, as to eat your breakfaſt when ſet before you : it is only that knowledge of the world, that elegancy of manners, that univerſal politeneſs, and thoſe graces, which keeping good company, and ſeeing variety of places and charaćters, muſt inevitably, with the leaſt attention on your part, give you. Your foreign deſti- nation leads to the greateſt things, and your parlia- mentary fituation will facilitate your progreſs. Confider , * A found mind in a found body. Seeing and not Seeing, &c. 335 then this pleaſing proſpect as attentively for yourſelf as I conſider it for you. Labour on your part to realiſe it, as I will on mine to aſſiſt and enable you to do it. Nullum numen abeft, ſi ſit prudentia. zº Adieu ! my dear child. I count the days till I have the pleaſure of ſeeing you : I ſhall ſoon count the hours, and at laſt the minutes, with increaſing im- patience. -º-sº ºm- LETTER CXXV. Seeing and not seeing...Conversation more improving on Po- !itical Subjects than Books... Military Affairs...Commerce of France... Small Talk. - MY DEAR FRIEND, Greenwich, June the 20th. SO very few people, eſpecially young travellers, ſee what they ſee, or hear what they hear, that though I really believe it may be unneceſſary with you, yet there can be no harm in reminding you, from time to time, to ſee what you ſee, and to hear what you hear; that is, to ſee and hear as you ſhould do. Frivolous futile peo- ple, who make at leaſt three parts in four of mankind, only deſire to ſee and hear what their frivolous and fu- tile prae-curſors have ſeen and heard : as St. Peter's, the Pope, and high maſs, at Rome; Nôtre Dame, Verſailles, the French king, and the French comedy, in France. A man of parts ſees and hears very diffe- rently from theſe gentlemen, and a great deal more.— He examines and informs himſelf thoroughly of every thing he ſees or hears; and, more particularly, as it is relative to his own profeſſion or deſtination. Your de- ſtination is political; the objećt therefore of your in- quiries and obſervations ſhould be the political inte- rior of things; the forms of government, laws, regu- lations, cuſtoms, trade, manufactures, &c. of the ſe- veral nations of Europe. This knowledge is much better acquired by converſation with ſenſible and well-- informed people, than by books; the beſt of which, upon theſe ſubjećts, are always imperfeót. For exam. ple, there are preſent ſtates of France as there are of England, but they are always defective, being pub- * 336 Affairs of France. liſhed by people uninformed, who only copy one ano- ther: they are, however, worth looking into, becauſe they point out objećts for inquiry, which otherwiſe might poſſibly never have occurred to one's mind; but an hour's converſation with a ſenſible préſident, or con- ſeiller, will let you more into the true ſtate of the par- liament of Paris than all the books in France. In the ſame manner, the Almanach Militaire is worth your having ; but two or three converſations with officers will inform you much better of their military regula- tions. People have, commonly, a partiality for their own profeſſions, love to talk of them, and are even flattered by being conſulted upon the ſubjećt; when, therefore, you are with any of thoſe military gentle- men (and you can hardly be in any company without forme,) aſk them military queſtions. Inquire into their methods of diſcipline, quartering, and clothing their men; inform yourſelf of their pay, their perquiſites, &c. Do the ſame as to the marine, and make yourſelf particularly maſter of that détail, which has, and al- ways will have, a great relation to the affairs of Eng- land; and, in proportion as you get good informations, make minutes of them in writing. The regulations of trade and commerce in France are excellent, as appears but too plainly for us, by the great increaſe of both within theſe thirty years; for, not to mention their extenſive commerce in both the Eaſt and Weſt Indies, they have got the whole trade of the Levant from us, and now -ſupply all the foreign markets with their ſugars, to the ruin almoſt of our fugar colonies, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the Leeward Iſlands. Get, therefore, what information you can of theſe matters alſo. : Inquire too into their church matters; for which the preſent diſputes, between the court and the clergy, give you fair and frequent opportunities. Know the parti- cular rights of the Galliean church, in oppoſition to the pretenſions of the See of Rome. I need not re- commend eccleſiaſtical hiſtory to you, ſince I hear you ſtudy Du Pinº very affiduouſly. - * .* A punning alluſion to madame Du Pin, a lady to whom young Stanhope was ſuppoſed to be partial. - small Talk. - 837 - - You cannot imagine how much this ſolid and uſeful knowledge of other countries will diſtinguiſh you in your own (where, to ſay the truth, it is very little known or cultivated), beſides the great uſe it is of in all foreign negotiations : not to mention that it enables a man to ſline in all companies. When kings and princes have any knowledge, it is of this ſort, and more particularly : therefore it is the uſual topic of their levee converſations, in which it will qualify you to bear a confiderable part : it brings you more ac- quainted with them, and they are pleaſed to have peo- ple talk to them on a ſubjećt in which they think to ſhine. - - -- There is a ſort of chit-chat, or ſmall talk, which is the general run of converſation at courts, and in moſt mixed companies. it is a fort of middling converſa- tion, neither ſilly nor edifying ; , but, however, very neceſſary for you to be maſter of. It turns upon the publical events of Europe, and then is at its beſt ; ver often upon the number, the goodneſs or badneſs, the diſcipline, or the clothing of the troops of different princes; ſometimes upon the families, the marriages, the relations of princes and conſiderable people, and ſometimes ſur la bonne chºre, the magnificence of public entertainments, balls, maſquerades, &c. . I would wiſh you to be able to talk upon all theſe things better, and with more knowledge than other people; inſomuch that, upon thoſe occaſions, you ſhould be applied to, and that people ſhould ſay, I dare ſay Mr. Stanhope can tell us. -- * Second-rate knowledge and middling talents carry a man farther at courts, and in the buſy part of the world, than ſuperior knowledge and ſhining parts. Tacitus very juſtly accounts for a man's having always kept in favour, and enjoyed the beſt employments, under the tyranničal reigns, of three or four of the very worſt emperors, by ſaying that it was not propter aliquam ex- imian artem, ſed quia par negotiis meque ſupra e arº. Diſ- cretion is the great article; all thoſe things are to be * Not becauſe, of excelling in any particular, but becauſe he was a man of buſineſs, and did not diſguſt by ſuperiority. Q- * 333 Author's Introduction into the Iſºorld. learned, and only learned by keeping a great deal of - the beſt company. Frequent thoſe gºod houſes where you have already a footing, and wriggle yourſelf ſome- how or other into every other. Haunt the courts par- ticularly, in order to get that routine. - - You ſay that you want ſome hints for a letter to Lady Cheſterfield; more uſe and knowledge of the world will teach you occaſionally to write and talk genteely, ſur des riens, which I can tell you is a very uſeful part of worldly knowledge; for, in ſome com- panies, it would be imprudent to talk upon any thing elſe, and with very many people it is impoſſible to talk of any thing elſe; they would not underſtand you.- Adieu ! - : *-ºs, sºme- LETTER CXXVI. Detail of the Author’s Introduction into the World... Dress, MY DEAR FRIEND, London, June the 24th. AIR, addreſs, manners, and graces, are of ſuch infi- nite advantage to whoever has them, and ſo peculiarly and eſſentially neceſſary for you, that now, as the time of our meeting draws near, I tremble for fear I ſhould not find you poſſeſſed of them : and, to tell you the truth, I doubt you are not yet ſufficiently convinced of their importance. There is, for inſtance, your intimate friend Mr. H-, who, with great merit, deep knowledge, and a thouſand good qualities, will never make a figure in the world while he lives. Why? Merely for want of thoſe external and ſhowiſh accom- pliſhments which he began the world too late to ac- quire, and which, with his ſtudious and philoſophical turn, I believe he thinks are not worth his attention. He may, very probably, make a figure in the republic of letters; but he had ten thouſand times better make a figure as a ii.an of the world and of buſineſs in the republic of the United Provinces; which, take my word for it, he never will - - As I open myſelf without the leaſt reſerve whenever I think that my doing ſo can be of any uſe to you, I 4. Author's Introduction into the JP'orld. 339 will give you a ſhort account of my felf when I firſt came into the world, which was at the age you are of now ; ſo that (by the way) you have got the ſtart of me in that important article by two or three years at leaſt. At nineteen I left the univerſity of Cambridge, where I was an abſolute pedant : when I talked my beſt, I quoted Horace; when I aimed at being face- tious, I quoted Martial; and when I had a mind to be a fine gentleman, I talked Ovid. I was convinced that none but the ancients had common ſenſe; that the claſſics contained every thing that was either ne- ceſſary, uſeful, or ornamental to men; and I was not without thoughts of wearing the toga virilis of the Ro- mans, inſtead of the vulgar and illiberal dreſs of the moderns. With theſe excellent notions I went firſt to the Hague, where, by the help of ſeveral letters of re- commendation, I was ſoon introduced into all the beſt company, and where I very ſoon diſcovered that I was totally miſtaken in almoſt every one notion I had en- tertained. Fortunately, I had a ſtrong deſire to pleaſe (the mixed reſult of good-nature, and a vanity by no means blameable), and was ſenſible that I had nothing but the defire. I therefore reſolved, if poſſible, to ac- quire the means too. I ſtudied attentively and minutely the dreſs, the air, the manner, the addreſs, and the turn of converſation of all thoſe whom I found to be the people in faſhion, and moſt generally allowed to pleaſe. I imitated them as well as I could : if I heard that one man was reckoned remarkably genteel, I care- fully watched, his dreſs, motions, and attitudes, and formed my own upon them. When I heard of ano- ther, whoſe converſation was agreeable and engaging, I liſtened and attended to the turn of it. I addreſſed myſelf, though de frès mauvaiſe grace*, to all the moſt faſhionable fine ladies; confeſſed, and laughed with them at my own awkwardneſs and rawneſs, recom- mending myſelf as an objećt for them to try their ſkill in forming. By theſe means, and with a paſſionate de- fire of pleaſing every body, I came by degrees to pleaſe ſome; and, I can aſſure you, that what little figure I * With a very bad grace. Q_2 340 - Dress. have made in the world has been much more owing to that paſſionate deſire I had of pleaſing univerſally, than to any intrinſic merit or ſound knowledge I might ever have been maſter of My paſſion for pleaſing was ſo ftrong (and I am very glad it was ſo) that, I own to you fairly, I wiſhed to make every woman I ſaw in love with me, and every man I met with admire me. With- out this paſſion for the objećt, I ſhould never-have been fo attentive to the means; and I own I cannot conceive how it is poſſible for any man of good-nature and good fenſe to be without this paſſion. Does not good-nature incline us to pleaſe all thoſe we converſe with, of what- ever rank or ſtation they may be And does not good fenſe and common obſervation ſhow of what infinite uſe it is to pleaſe ? Oh! but one may pleaſe by the good qualities of the heart and the knowledge of the head, without that faſhionable air, addreſs, and man- ner, which is mere tinſel. I deny it. A man may be eſteemed and reſpešted, but I defy him to pleaſe with- out them. Moreover, at your age, I would not have contented myſelf with barely pleafing; I wanted to ſhine, and to diſtinguiſh myſelf in the world as a man of faſhion as well as buſineſs. And that ambition or vanity, call it what you pleaſe, was a right one ; it hurt nobody, and made me exert whatever talents I had. It is the ſpring of a thouſand right and good things. . I was talking you over the other day with one very much your friend, and who had often been with you both at Paris and in Italy. Among the innumerable queſtions, which you may be ſure I aſked him concern- ing you, I happened to mention your dreſs (for, to ſay the truth, it was the only thing of which I thought him a competent judge), upon which he ſaid, that you dreſſed tolerably well at Paris, but that in Italy you dreſſed ſo ill that he uſed to joke with you upon it, and even to tear your clothes. Now, I muſt tell you, that at your age it is as ridiculous not to be very well dreſſed, as at my age it would be if I was to wear a white feather and red-heeled ſhoes. Dreſs is one of the various ingredients that contribute to the art of pleaſing ; it pleaſes the eyes at leaſt, and more eſpeci- Instructive Company, &c. 34:1 ally of women. Addreſs yourſelf to the ſenſes, if you would pleaſe ; dazzle the eyes, ſooth and flatter t!,e 'ears of mankind ; engage their heart, and let their rea- ſon do its worſt againſt you. Suavitºr in modo is the great ſecret. Whenever you find yourſelf engaged in- ſenſibly in favour of any body df no ſuperior merit nor diſtinguiſhed talents," examine and ſee what it is that has made thoſe impreſfions upon you : you will find it to be that douceur, that gentleneſs of manners, that air and addreſs, which I have ſo often recommended to you ; and from thence draw this obvious concluſion, that what pleaſes you in them will pleaſe others in you ; for we are all made of the ſame clay, though ſome of the lumps are a little finer and ſome a little coarſer; but, in general, the ſureſt way to judge of others is to examine and analyſe one’s-ſelf thoroughly. When we meet, I will affiſt you in that analyſis, in which every man wants ſome aſſiſtance againſt his own ſelf-love— Adieu !. - — LETTER CXXVII, Puchesse d’Aiguillon... Lady Sandwich... Instructive Com- pany...Hunting...Studies to be adapted to our Desting- tion... Dispute between the Court and the Clergy. “ . MY DEAR FRIEND, . Greenwich, June the 30th. PRAY give the incloſed to our friend the abbé; it is to congratulate him upon his canonicat, which I am really very glad of, and I hope it will fatten him up to Boileau's Chanoine; at preſent he is as meagre as an apoſtle or a prophet. By the way, has he ever intro- duced you to la ducheſſe d’Aiguillon 2 If he has not, make him preſent you; and if he has, frequent her, and make her many compliments from me. She has uncommon ſenſe and knowledge for a woman, and her houſe is the reſort of one ſet of les beaux eſprits. It is a ſatisfaction and a ſort of credit to be acquainted with thoſe gentlemen, and it puts a young fellow in faſhion. A propos de beaux eſprits ; have you been introduced at lady Sandwich's, who, old as ſhe was, when I ſaw her Q-3 342 Hunting...Studies adapted to our Destination. laſt, had the ſtrongeſt parts of any woman I ever, knew in my life 2 If you are not acquainted with her, either the ducheſs d’Aiguillon or lady Hervey can, and I dare ſay will, introduce you. I can aſſure you it is very well worth your while, both upon her own ac- count, and for the ſake of the people of wit and learn- ing who frequent her. In ſuch companies there is al- ways ſomething to be learned, as well as manners: the converſation turns upon ſomething above trifles: ſome point of literature; criticiſm, hiſtory, &c. is diſcuſſed with ingenuity and good manners; for I muſt do the French pedple of learning juſtice; they are not bears, as moſt of ours are, they are gentlemen. Our abbé writes me word that you were gone to Compiegne; I am very glad of it; other courts muſt form you for your own. He tells me too that you have left off riding at the manège ; I have no objećtion to that, it takes up a great deal cf the morning ; and if you have got a genteel and firm ſeat on horſeback, it is enough for you, now that tilts and tournaments are laid aſide. I ſuppoſe you have hunted at Compiegne. The king's hunting there, I am told, is a fine ſight. The French manner of hunting is gentleman-like ; ours is only for bumpkins and boobies. The poor beaſts here are purſued and run down by much greater beaſts than themſelves; and the true Britiſh fox-hunter is moſt undoubtedly a ſpecies appropriated and pecu- liar to this country, which no other part of the globe produces. - I hope you apply the time you have ſaved from the riding-houſe to uſeful, more than to learned purpoſes; for I can aſſure you they are very different things. ... I would have you allow but one hour a day for Greek; and that more to keep what you have than to increaſe it: by Greek, I mean uſeful Greek books, ſuch as De- moſthenes, Thucydides, &c. and not the poets, with whom you are already enough acquainted. Your La- tin will take care of itſelf. Whatever more time you have for reading, pray beſtow it upon thoſe books which are, immediately relative to your deſtination; ſuch as modern hiſtory, in the modern languages; memoirs, anecdotes, letters, Begotiations, &c. Collečt alſo, if Dispute between the Court and the Clergy. 34.3 you can, authentically, the preſent ſtate of all the courts and countries in Europe, the charaćters of the kings and princes, their wives, their miniſters, &c. their fe- weral views, connections, and intereſts; the ſtate of their finances, their military force, their trade, manu- fačtures, and commerce. That is the uſeful, the nex ceſſary knowledge for you, and indeed for every gen- tleman. But with all this, remember that living books are much better than dead ones; and throw away no time (for it is thrown away) with the latter, which you can employ well with the former; for books muſt now be only your amuſement, but by no means your buſi- neſs. r - - I hear the diſpute between the court and the clergy is made up amicably; both parties have yielded, ſome- thing; the king being afraid of loſing more of his foul; and the clergy more of their revenue. The Romiſh clergy are very ſkilful in making the moſt of the vices and the weakneſſes of the laity. I hope you have read and informed yourſelf fully of every thing relative to that affair; it is a very important queſtion, in which the prieſthood of every country in Europe is highly concerned. If you would be thoroughly convinced that their tythes are of divine inſtitution, and their property the property of God himſelf, not to be touch- ed by any power upon earth, read Frä-Paolo De Beneft- ciis, an excellent and ſhort book; for which, and ſome other treatiſes againſt the court of Rome, he was ſti- . lettoed ; which made him ſay afterwards, upon ſeeing an anonymous book written againſt him, by order of the pope, Conoſco bene lo ſfile Romano *. **. The parliament of Paris, and the ſtates of Langue- doc, will, I believe, hardly ſcramble off; having only reaſon and juſtice, but no terrors on their, fide. Thoſe, are political and conſtitutional queſtions, that well de- ſerve your attention aid your inquiries—I hope you are thoroughly maſter of them. It is alſo worth your while to collečt and keep all the pieces written upon thoſe ſubjećts. * I have reaſon to know the Roman ſtyle, * Q_4 [ 344 J LETTER cxxviii. Conduct of the Temper...Connections necessary to Advance- nient in mixed Governments... Dress. MY DEAR FRIEND, Greenwich, July the 8th. THE laſt mail brought me your letter of the 3d July. I am glad that you are ſo well with colonel Yorke, as to be let into ſecret correſpondences. Lord Albemarle's reſerve to you is, I believe, more owing to his ſecretary than to himſelf; for you ſeem to be much in favour with him; and poſſibly, too, he has no very ſecret letters to communicate. However, take care not to diſcover the leaſt diſſatisfaction upon this feore: make the pro- per acknowledgements to colonel Yorke for what he does ſhow you ; but let neither lord Albemarle nor his people perceive the leaſt coldneſs on your part, upon account of what they do not ſhow you. It is very oft- eu neceſſary not to manifeſt all one feels. Make your court to, and connect yourſelf as-much as poſſible with, colonel Yorke; he may be of great uſe to you here- after; and when you take leave, not only offer to bring over any letters or packets, by way of ſecurity, but even aſk, as a favour, to be the carrier of a letter from him to his father the chancelior. A-propos of your coming here, I confeſs that I am weakly impatient for it, and think a few days worth getting; I would there- fore, inſtead of the 25th of next month, which was the day that ſome time ago I appointed for your leaving Paris, have you ſet out on Friday the 20th of Auguſt; in conſequence of which you will be at Calais #. time on the Sunday following, and probably at Dover within four-and-twenty hours afterwards. If you land in the morning, you may, in a poſt-chaife, get to Sit- tingbourne that day; if you come on ſhore in the eve- ning, you can only get to Canterbury, where you will be better lodged than at Dover. I will not have you travel in the night, nor fatigue and overheat yourſelf, by running on four ſcore miles the moment you land. You will come ſtraight to Blackheath, where I ſhall be ready to meet you, and which is direétly upon the Do- ver road to London; and we will go to town together, Connections...Dress. 343 after you have reſted yourſelf a day or two here. All the other direétions, which I gave you in my former letter, hold ſtill the ſame. - I had a letter the other day from lord Huntingdon, of which one half at leaſt was your panegyric: it was extremely welcome to me from ſo good a hand. , Cul- tivate that friendſhip; it will do you honour, and give you ſtrength. Conneétions, in our mixed-parliamentary government, are of great uſe. - Since I wrote what goes before, I have talked you over minutely with lord Albemarle; who told me, that he could very ſincerely commend you upon every arti- cle but one; but upon that one you were often joked, both by him and others. I deſired to know what that was ; he laughed, and told me, it was the article of dreſs, in which you were exceedingly negligent. Though he laughed, I can aſſure you, that it is no laughing matter for you; and you will poſſibly be ſurpriſed, when I I aſſert, (but, upon my word, it is literally true) that to be very well dreſſed is of much more importance to you than all the Greek you know will be of theſe thirty years. Remember the world is now your only buſineſs; and you muſt adopt its cuſtoms and manners, be they filly, or be they not. To neglect your dreſs is an affront to all the women you keep company with, as it implies that you do not think them worth that attention which every body elſe does; they mind dreſs, and you will never pleaſe them if you negleót yours; and if you do not pleaſe the women, you will not pleaſe half the men you otherwiſe might. It is the women who put a young fellow in faſhion, even with the men. A young fellow ought to have a certain fund of coquetry; which ſhould make him try all the means of pleaſing as much as any coquette in Europe can do. Old_as I am, and littie thinking of women, God knows, I am very far from be- ing negligent of my dreſs; and why? From conför- mity to cuſtom, and out of decency to mem, who expect that degree of complaiſance. I do not, indeed, wear feathers, and red heels; which would ill ſuit my age; but I take care to have my clothes well made, my wig well combed and powdered, my Hinen and erſon € X* tremely clean. I even allow my footmen for ty ſhillings Q 5 346 The proper Use of Friends. a year extraordinary, that they may be ſpruce and neat. Your figure eſpecially, which, from its ſtature, cannot be very majeſtic and intereſting, ſhould be the more at- fended to in point of dreſs. It will not admit of negli- gence and careleſſneſs. - - * . ºf ... I believe Mr. Hayes thinks you have ſlighted him a little of late, ſince you have got into ſo much other company. I do not, by any means, blame you for not frequenting his houſe ſo much as you did at firſt, before you had got into ſo many other houſes, more entertain- ing and more inſtructing than his on the contrary, you do very well; however, as he was extremely civil to you, take care to be ſo to him ; and make up in manner what you omit in matter. See him, dine with him before you come away, and aſk his commands for England. - - Your triangular ſeal is done, and I have given it to an Engliſh gentleman, who ſets out in a week for Paris, and who will deliver it to Sir John Lambert for you. -ºš zº- LETTER CXXIX: The proper Use ºf Friends...Anecdotes...English Language and Constitution...Art ºf Pleasing. MY DEAR FRIEND, Greenwich, July the 15th. AS this is the laſt, or the laſt letter but one, that I think I ſhall write before I have the pleaſure of ſeeing you here, it may not be amiſs to prepare you a little for our interview, and for the time we ſhall paſs together. Before kings and princes meet, miniſters on each ſide adjuſt the important points of precedents, arm chairs, right hand and left, &c, ſo that they know previouſly what they are to expe&t, what they have to truſt to : and it is right they ſhould; for they commonly envy or hate, but moſt certainly diſtruſt each other. We ſhall meet upon very different terms; we want no ſuch preli- minaries: wou know my tenderneſs, I know your af- fe&tion. My, only objećt, therefore, is to make your ſhort ſtay with me as uſeful as I can to you ; and yours, I hope, is to co-operate with me. Whether, by mak- The proper Use of Friends...Anecdotes. 3.17 ing it wholeſome, I ſhall make it pleaſant to you, I am not ſure. Emetics and cathartics I ſhall not admini- ſter, becauſe I am ſure you do not want them ; but for alteratives you muſt expe&t a great many; and I can tell you that I have a number of nostrums, which I ſhall communicate to nobody but yourſelf. To ſpeak with- out a metaphor, I ſhall endeavour to aſſiſt your youth with all the experience that I have purchaſed, at the price of ſeven-and-fifty years. In order to this, fre- quent reproofs, correótions, and admonitions, will be neceſſary; but then, I promiſe you, that they ſhall be in a gentle, friendly, and ſecret manner; they ſhall not put you out of countenance in company, nor out of humour when we are alone. I do not expe&t that, at nineteen, you ſhould have that knowledge of the world, thoſe manners, that dexterity, which few people have at nine-and-twenty. But I will endeavour to give them you ; and I am ſure you will endeavour to learn them, as far as your youth, my experience, and the time we ſhall paſs together, will allow. You may have many inaccuracies, (and to be ſure you have, for who has not at your age) which few people will tell you of, and ſome nobody can tell you of but myſelf. You may poſſibly have others too, which eyes leſs intereſted, and leſs vigilant than mine, do not diſcover : all thoſe you ſhall hear of, from one whoſe tenderneſs for you will excite his curioſity, and ſharpen his penetration. - The ſmalleſt inattention, or error in manners, the minuteſt . inelegancy of dićtion, the leaſt awkwardneſs in your dreſs and carriage, will not eſcape my obſervation, nor paſs without amicable correótion. Two of the moſt inti- mate friends in the world can freely tell each other their faults, and even their crimes; but cannot poſſibly tell each other of certain little weakneſſes, awkwardneſſes, and blindneſſes of ſelf-love: to authoriſe that unre- ſerved freedom, the relation between us is abſolutely neceſſary. For example, I had a very worthy friend, with whom I was intimate enough to tell him his faults; he had but few ; I told him of them, he took it kindly of me, and correóted them. But then, he had ſome weakneſſes that I could never tell him of directly, and which he was ſo little º of himſelf, that hints of -** - Q 6 - *-- *** 3.48 English Language and Constitution, them were loſt upon him. He had a ſcrag neck, of about a yard long; notwithſtanding which, bags being in fa- ſhion, truly he would wear one to his wig, and did ſo ; but never behind him, for, upon every motion of his head, his bag came forwards over one ſhoulder or the other. He took it into his head, too, that he muſt, oc- caſionally, dance minuets, becauſe other people did; and he did ſo, not only extremely ill, but ſo awkward, ſo disjointed, ſo ſlim, ſo meagre was his figure, that, had he danced as well as ever Marcel did, it would have been ridiculous in him to have danced at all. I hinted theſe things to him as plainly as friendſhip would allow, and to no purpoſe; but to have told him the whole, ſo as to cure him, I muſt have been his father, which, thank God, I am not. As fathers commonly go, it is ſeldom a misfortune to be fatherleſs; and, conſidering the general run of ſons, as ſeldom a misfortune to be childlefs. You and I form, I believe, an exception to that rule; for I am perſuaded, that we would neither of us change our relation, was it in our power. You will, I both hope and believe, be not only the comfort, but the pride of my age; and, I am ſure I will be the ſup- port, the friend, the guide of your youth. Truſt me without reſerve; I will adviſe you without private in- tereſt, or ſecret envy. Mr. Harte will do ſo too; but ſtill there may be ſome hittle things proper for you to know, and neceſſary for you to correót, which even his friendſhip would not let him tell you of ſo freely as ! ſhould ; and ſome of which he may poſſibly not be ſo good a judge of as I am, not having lived ſo much in the great world. - One principal topic of our converſation will be, not only the purity, but the elegancy of the Engliſh lan- guage ; in both which you are very deficient. An- other will be the conſtitution of this country, of which, I believe, you know leſs than of moſt other countries in Europe. Manners, attentions, and addreſs, will alſo be the frequent ſubječts of our lečtures; and whatever I know of that important and neceſſary art, the art of pleafing, I will unreſervedly communicate to you.- Dreſs too (which, as things are, I can logically prove, requires ſeme attention) will not always eſcape our no- Letters of Business...Perspicuity. 349 tice. Thus my le&tures will be more various, and in forme reſpects more uſeful, than profeſſor Maſcow's ; aud, therefore, I can tell you, that I expect to be paid for them : but, as poſſibly you would not care to part with your ready money, and as I do not think that it would be quite handſome in me to accept it, I will compound for the payment, and take it in attention and pračtice. - - - - Pray remember to part with all your friends and ac- quaintances at Paris in ſuch a manner as may make them not only willing but impatient to ſee you there again. All people ſay pretty nearly the ſame things upon thoſe occaſions; it is the manner only that makes the difference; and that difference is great. Avoid, how- ever, as much as you can, charging yourſelf with com- miſſions, on your return to Paris; I know, by expe- rience, that they are exceedingly troubleſome, com-. monly expenſive, and very ſeldom ſatisfactory at laſt, to the perſons who give them : ſome you cannot refuſe, to people to whom you are obliged, and would oblige in your turn ; but as to common fiddle-faddle commiſ- fions, you may excuſe yourſelf from them with truth, by ſaying that you are to return to Paris through Flan- ders, and ſee all thoſe great towns; which I intend you fhall do, and ſtay a week or ten days at Bruſſels. Adieu ! A good journey to you, if this is my laſt; if not, I can repeat again what I ſhall wiſh conſtantly, —sº- LETTER CXxx. I.etters of Business...Perspicuily...General Rules for Com- position... Use ºf the Relative...Ornament and Grace...Pe- dantry ºf Business. ! - - MY DEAR FRIEND, London, December the 19th. YOU are now entered upon a ſcene of buſineſs, where I hope you will one day make a figure. Uſe does a great deal, but care and attention muſt be joined to it. The firſt thing neceſſary, in writing letters of buſineſs, is extreme clearneſs and perſpicuity; every paragraph ihould be ſo clear, and unambiguous, that the dulleſt f 350 Rules for Composition...Use of the Relative. fellow in the world may not be able to miſtake it, nor obliged to read it twice in order to underſtand it. This neceſſary clearneſs implies a correótneſs, without ex- cluding an elegancy of ſtyle. Tropes, figures, anti- theſes, epigrams, &c. would be as miſplaced, and as impertinent in letters of buſineſs, as they are ſometimes (if judiciouſly uſed) proper and pleaſing in familiar let- ters, upon common and trite ſubjećts. In buſineſs, an elegant ſimplicity, the reſult of care, not of labour, is required. Buſineſs muſt be well, not affeótedly dreſſed; but by no means negligently. Let your firſt attention be to clearneſs, and read every paragraph after you have written it, in the critical view of diſcovering whether it is poſſible that any one man can miſtake the true ſenſe of it; and correót it accordingly. . Our pronouns and relatives often create obſcurity or ambiguity; be therefore exceedingly attentive to them, and take care to mark out with preciſion their particu- lar relations. For example: Mr. Johnſon acquainted me that he had ſeen Mr. Smith, who had promiſed him to ſpeak to Mr. Clarke, to return him (Mr. Johnſon) thoſe papers, which he (Mr. Smith) had left ſome time. ago with him (Mr. Clarke): it is better to repeat a name, though unneceſſarily, ten times, than to have the perſon miſtaken once. Who, you know, is ſingly rela- tive to perſons, and cannot be applied to things; which, and that, are chiefly relative to things, but not abſo- lutely excluſive of perſons; for one may ſay, the man that robbed or killed ſuch-a-one; but it is much better to ſay, the man who robbed or killed. One never ſays, the man or the woman which. Which and that, though chiefly relative to things, cannot be always uſed indifferently as to things; and the evgovia” muſt ſome- times determine their place. For inſtance; the letter". which I received from you, which you referred to in your laſt, which came by lord Albemarle's meſſenger, and which I ſhowed to ſuch-a-one; F would change it thus— The letter that I received from you, which you referred to in your laſt, that came by lord Albemarle’s meſſen- ger, and which I ſhowed to ſuch-a-one. * Pleaſing found. Ornament and Grace. - 351 Buſineſs does not exclude (as poſſibly you wiſh it did) the uſual terms of politeneſs and good-breeding; but, on the contrary, ſtrićtly requires them; ſuch as –I have the honour to acquaint your lordſhip; Permit me to aſ . ſure you; If I may be allowed to give my opinion, &c., For the miniſter abroad, who writes to the miniſter at home, writes to his ſuperior; poſſibly to his patron, or at leaſt to one who he deſires ſhould be ſo. Letters of buſineſs will not only admit of, but be the better for certain graces : but then, they muſt be ſeatter- ed with a ſparing and a ſkilful hand; they muſt fit their place exaétly. They muſt decently adorn without in- cumbering, and modeſtly ſhine without glaring. But as this is the utmoſt degree of perfeótion in letters of buſineſs, I would not adviſe you to attempt thoſe em- belliſhments, till you have firſt laid your foundation well. - Cardinal d’Oſſat’s letters are the true letters of bufi- neſs; , thoſe of monſieur d’Avaux are excellent ; Sir William Temple's are very pleaſing, but, I fear, too affected. Carefully avoid all Greek or Latin quota- tions; and bring no precedents from the virtuous Spar- fans, the polite Athenians, and the brave Romans. Leave all that to futile pedants. No flouriſhes, no declama- tion. But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant ſim- plicity and dignity of ſtyle abſolutely neceſſary for good letters of buſineſs; attend to that carefully. Let your periods be harmonious, without ſeeming to be labour- ed; and let them not be too long, for that always oc- cafions a degree of obſcurity. I ſhould not mention correót orthography, but that you very often fail in that particular, which will bring ridicule upon you ; for no man is allowed to ſpell ill. I wiſh too that your hand- writing was much better; and I cannot conceive why it is not, ſince every man certainly may write whatever hand he pleaſes. Neatneſs in folding up, ſealing, and dire&t- ing your packets, is by no means to be neglected ; though, I dare ſay, you think it is. But there is ſome- thing in the extérior even, of a packet, that may pleaſe or diſpleaſe, and conſequently worth ſome attention. You ſay that your time is very well employed, and ſo it is, though as yet only in the outlines, and firſt routine 352 - Parliaments of France. of buſineſs. They are previouſly neceſſary to be known; they ſmooth the way for parts and dexterity. Bufineſs requires no conjuration nor ſupernatural talents, as people, unacquainted with it, are apt to think. Me- thod, diligence, and diſcretion, will carry a man, of good ſtrong common ſenſe, much higher than the fineſt parts, without them, can do. Par negotiis, neque ſupra, is the true charaćter of a man of buſineſs: but then it implies ready attention, and no abſences; and a flexibi- lity and verſatility of attention from one objećt to an- other, without being engroſſed by any one. - Be upon your guard againſt the pedantry and affecta- tion of buſineſs, which young people are apt to fall into, from the pride of being concerned in it young. They look thoughtful, complain of the weight of bu- fineſs, throw out myſterious hints, and ſeem big with: ſecrets which they do not know. Do you, on the con- trary, never talk of buſineſs but to thoſe with whom you tranſa&t it; and learn to ſeem vacuus, and idle, when . you have the moſt buſineſs. * *-* Tºme- LETTER CXXXI. Parliaments of France...Disputes between Crown and Par- liaments...States-General...Pais d’Etats. Mx D EAR FRIEN p, London, December the 30th. THE Parliaments are the courts of juſtice of France, and are what our courts of juſtice in Weſtminſter-hall are here. They uſed anciently to follow the court, and adminiſter juſtice in the preſence of the king. Philip le. Bel firſt fixed it at Paris, by an edićt of 1302. It conſiſt- ed then of but one chambre, which was called La Cham- bre de Prélats, moſt of the members being eccleſiaſtics; but the multiplicity of buſineſs made it by degrees ne- ceſſary to create ſeveral other chambres. It conſiſts now of ſeven chambres. La Grande Chambre, which is the higheſt court of juſ- tice, and to which appeals lie from the others. Les cinq Chambres des Enquété, which are like our Common Pleas and Court of Exchequer. - Disputes between Crown and Parliament. 353 / La Tournelle, which is the court for criminal juſtice, and anſwers to our Old Bailey and King's Bench. There are in all twelve parliaments in France. 1. Paris. 2. Toulouſe. . Grenoble. Bourdeaux. . Dijon. . Rouen. . Aix en Provence. . Rennes en Bretagne. . Pau en Navarre, Io. Metz. 1 1. Dole en Franche Comté, 12. Douay. - * There are three conſeil; ſouverains, which may almoſt be called parliaments; they are thoſe of Perpignan. Arras. Alſace. g For further particulars of the French parliaments, read Bernard de la Rochefavin des Pariémens de France, and other authors, who have treated that ſubjećt conſti- tutionally. But what will be ſtill better, converſe upon it with people of ſenſe and knowledge, who will inform you of the particular objećts of the ſeveral cham&res, and the buſineſſes of the reſpe&tive members, as, le; préſident, les préſidens a mortier (theſe laſt ſo called from their black velvet caps laced with gold), les maîtres des requétes, les gréffers, le procureur général, les avocats généraur, les conſeil- lers, &c. The great point in diſpute is, concerning the powers of the parliament of Paris, in matters of ſtate, and relatively to the crown. They pretend to the powers of the ſtates-general of France, when they uſed to be aſſembled (which, I think, they have not been fince the reign of Lewis the XIIIth, in the year rô15). The crown denies thoſe pretenſions, and confiders them only as courts of juſtice. Mezeray ſeems to be on the fide of the parliament in this queſtion, which is very well worth your inquiry. But, be that as it will, the parlia- ment of Paris is certainly a very reſpectable body, and much regarded by the whole kingdom. The edićts of 354 . States General...Tiers d’Etats. the crown, eſpecially thoſe for levying money on the ſubjećts, ought to be regiſtered in parliament; I do not ſay to have their effeót, for the crown would take good care of that; but to have a decent appearance, and to procure a willing acquieſcence in the nation. And the crown itſelf, abſolute as it is, does not love that ſtrong oppoſition, and thoſe admirable remonſtrances, which it ſometimes meets with from the parliaments. Many of thoſe detached pieces are well worth your colle&t- ing; and I remember, a year or two ago, a remon- ſtrance of the parliament of Douay, upon the ſubjećt, as I think, of the vingtième, which was, in my mind, one of the fineſt and moſt moving compoſitions 1 ever read. They owned themſelves, indeed, to be ſlaves, and ſhowed their chains, but humbly begged of his majeſty to make them a little lighter and leſs gailing. The States of France were general aſſemblies of the three ſtates or orders of the kingdom; the clergy, the nobility, and the tiers &rar, that is, the people. They uſed to be called together by the king, upon the moſt important affairs of ſtate, like our lords and commons in parliament, and our clergy in convocation. Our parlia- ment is our ſtates, and the French parliaments are only their courts of juſtice. The nobility conſiſted of all thoſe of noble extraćtion, whether belonging to the ſword or the robe, excepting ſuch as were choſen (which ſometimes happened) by the tiers štat, as their deputies to the ſtates-general. The tiers átai was ex- aćtly our houſe of commons, that is, the people, repre- ſented by deputies of their own chooſing. Thoſe who had the moſt conſiderable places, dans la robe, aſſiſted at thoſe aſſemblies as commiſſioners on the part of the crown. The ſtates met, for the firſt time that I can find (I mean by the name of les états), in the reign of Pharamond, 424, when they confirmed the Salic law. From that time they have been very frequently aſſem- bled; ſometimes upon important occaſions, as making war and peace, reforming abuſes, &c.; at other times, upon ſeemingly trifling ones, as coronations, marriages, &c. Francis the firſt aſſembled them, in 1526, to de- clare null and void his famous treaty of Madrid, ſigned and ſworn to by him during his captivity there. They º Indolence and Inatſſcution. 355 grew troubleſome to the kings and to their miniſters, and were but ſeldom called, after the power of the crown grew ſtrong; and they have never been heard of fince the year 1615. Richelieu came and ſhackled the nation, and Mazarin and Lewis the XIVth riveted the ſhackles. r There ſtill ſubſiſt in ſome provinces in France, which are called pais d'états, an humble local imitation, or ra-- ther mimicry, of the great états, as in Languedoc, Bre- . tagne, &c. They meet, they ſpeak, they grumble, and finally ſubmit to whatever the king orders, Independently of the intrinſic utility of this kind of knowledge to every man of buſineſs, it is a ſhame for any man to be ignorant of it, eſpecially relatively to any country he has been long in-Adieu ! . T -*masº ºn- LETTER CXXXII. ! g - Indolence and Inattention...Improvement to be reaped from good Conversation...French Laws and Customs. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, January the 2d. LAZINESS of mind, or inattention, are as great ene- mies to knowledge as incapacity ; for, in truth, what difference is there between a man who will not and a man who cannot be informed * This difference only, that the former is juſtly to be blamed, the latter to be pitied. And yet how many are there, very capable of receiving knowledge, who, from lazineſs, inattention, and incuriouſneſs, will not ſo much as aſk for it, much leſs take the leaſt pains to acquire it? Our young Engliſh travellers generally diſtinguiſh themſelves by a voluntary privation of all that uſeful knowledge for which they are ſent abroad ; and yet, at that age, the moſt uſeful knowledge is the moſt eaſy to be acquired ; converſation being the book, and the beſt book, in which it is contained. The drudgery of dry grammatical learning is over, and the fruits of it are mixed with and adorned by the flowers of conver- ſation. How many of our young men have been a year at Rome, and as long at Paris, without knowing the Y. 356 Improvement from good Conversation. meaning and inſtitution of the conclave in the former, and of the parliament in the latter and this merely for want of aſking the firſt people they met with in thoſe feveral places, who could at leaſt have given them ſome general notions of thoſe matters. You will, I hope, be wiſer, and omit no opportu- nity (for opportunities preſent themſelves every hour in the day) of acquainting yourſelf with all thoſe po- litical and conſtitutional particulars of the kingdom and government of France. For inſtance; when you hear people mention le chancelier, or le garde des ſeaux, is it any great trouble for you to aſk, or for others to tell you, what is the nature, the powers, the objećts, and the profits, of thoſe two employments, either when joined together, as they often are, or when ſeparate, as they are at preſent When you hear of a gouvermour, a lieu- tenant de roi, a commandant, and an intendant of the ſame province, is it not natural, is it not becoming, is it not neceſſary, for a ſtranger to inquire into their re- ſpective rights and privileges: And yet I dare ſay there are very few Engliſhmen who know the difference be- tween the civil department of the intendant and the military powers of the others. When you hear (as I am perſuaded you muſt every day) of the vingtième, which is one in twenty, and conſequently five per cent, inquire upon what that tax is laid, whether upon lands, money, merchandiſe, or upon all three; how levied; and what it is ſuppoſed to produce. When you find in books (as you will ſometimes) alluſion to par- ticular laws and cuſtoms, do not reſt till you have traced them up to their ſource. To give you two ex- amples; you will meet, in ſome French comedies, Cri, or Clameur de Haro; aſk what it means, and you will be told that it is a term of the law in Normandy, and means citing, arreſting, or obliging any perfon to ap- pear in the courts of juſtice, either upon a civil or crimi- nal account; and that it is derived from a Raoul, which Raoul was anciently duke of Normandy, and a prince eminent for his juſtice; inſomuch that when any injuf- tice was committed, the cry immediately was Penez & Raoul, à Raoul / which words are now corrupted and jumbled into halo. Another, Le vol du chapon, that iss-a- * - _* French Taws and Customs. .* 357 certain diſtrićt of ground immediately contiguous to the manſion feat of a family, and anſwers to what we call, in Engliſh, demeſnes. It is in France computed at about 16oo feet round the houſe, that being ſuppoſed to be the extent of the capon's flight from la baſe cour. This little diſtriót muſt go along with the manſion ſeat, however the reſt of the eſtate may be divided. - I do not mean that you ſhould be a French lawyer; but I would not have you be unacquainted with the ge- neral principles of their law, in matters that occur every day. Such is the nature of their deſcents; that is, the inheritance of lands: Do they all go to the eldeſt ſon, or are they equally divided among the children of the deceaſed ?. In England, all lands unſettled deſcend to the eldeſt ſon, as heir at law, unleſs otherwiſe diſpoſed of by the father's will ; except in the county of Kent; where a particular cuſtom prevails, called Gavel-kind; by which, if the father dies inteſtate, all the children divide his lands equally among them. In Germany, as you know, all lands that are not fiefs are equally divid- ed among all the children, which ruins thoſe families; but all male fiefs of the empire deſcend unalienably to the next male heir, which preſerves thoſe families. in France, I believe, deſcents vary in different pro- yınces. . * The nature of marriage contraćts deſerves inquiry. In England, the general prađtice is, the huſband takes all the wife's fortune, and, in eonſideration of it, ſet- tles upon her a proper pin-money, as it is called; that is, an annuity during his life, and a jointure after his death. In France it is not ſo, particularly at Paris, where communauté des biens is eſtabliſhed. Any married woman at Paris, (if you are acquainted with one) can inform you of all theſe particulars. . - Theſe, and other things of the ſame nature, are the uſeful and rational objećts of the curioſity of a man of ſenſe and buſineſs. Could they only be attained by la- borious reſearches in folio books and worm-eaten ma- nuſcripts, I ſhould not wonder at a young fellow’s be- ing ignorant of them; but as they are the frequent to- pics of converſation, and to be known by a very little 358 g State of France. degree of curioſity, inquiry, and attention, it is unpar- donable not to know them. Thus I have given you ſome hints only for your in- quiries; l’Etat de la France, l'Almanach Royal, and twenty other ſuch ſuperficial books, will-furniſh you with a thouſand more. , Approfondiſſez. - How often, and how juſtly, have I ſince regretted neg- ligences of this kind in my youth ! And how often have I ſince been at great trouble to learn many things, which I could then have learned without any Save yourſelf now, then, I beg of you, that regret and trou- ble hereafter. Aſk queſtions, and many queſtions, and leave nothing till you are thoroughly informed of it. Such pertinent queſtions are far from being ill-bred, or troubleſome to thoſe of whom you aſk them; on the contrary, they are a tacit compliment to their know- ledge; and people have a better opinion of a young man when they ſee him deſirous to be informed. I have, by laſt poſt, received your two letters of the 1ſt and 5th January. I am very glad that you have been at all the ſhows at Verſailles; frequent the courts. I can conceive the murmurs of the French at the poor- neſs of the fire-works, by which they thought their king or their country degraded; and, in truth, were things always as they ſhould be, when kings give ſhows, they ought to be magnificent. - I thank you for the théſe de la Sorbonne, which you intend to ſend me, and which I am impatierſt to re- ceive. But pray read it carefully yourſelf firſt; and inform yourſelf what the Sorbonne is, by whom found- ed, and for what purpoſes. ~/ - Since you have time, you have done very well to take an Italian and a German maſter; but pray take care to leave yourſelf time enough for company; for it is in company only that you can learn what will be much more uſeful to you than either Italian or Ger- man.—Adieu ! - : -- - [ 359 LETTER CXXXIII. The Sorbonne... Theological Disputes... Jesuits... Ignatius Loyala... Policy of the Society... Paschal's Provincial Letters. * - MY DEAR FRIEND, . London, January the 6th. I RECOMMENDED to you, in my laſt, ſome inqui- ries into the conſtitution of that famous ſociety, the Sorbonne; but as I cannot wholly truſt to the diligence of thoſe inquiries, I will give you here the outlines of that eſtabliſhment, which may poſſibly excite you to inform yourſelf of particulars that you are more & por- tée to know than I am. • It was founded by Robert de Sorbon, in the year 1256, for fixteen poor ſcholars in divinity; four of each nation, of the univerſity of which it made a part; ſince that it hath been much extended and enriched, eſpecially by the liberality and pride of cardinal Riche- lieu ; who made it a magnificent building, for ſix-and- thirty doćtors of that ſociety to live in ; beſides which, there are fix profeſſors and ſchools for divinity. This ſociety hath been long famous for theological know- ledge and exercitations. There unintelligible points are debated with paſſion, though they can never be deter- mined by reaſon. Logical ſubtilties ſet common ſenſe at defiance, and myſtical refinements disfigure and diſ- guiſe the native beauty and ſimplicity of true religion : wild imaginations form ſyſtems, which weak minds adopt implicitly, and which ſenſe and reaſon oppoſe in vain; their voice is not ſtrong enough to be heard in ſchools of divinity. Political views are by no means negle&ted in thoſe ſacred places; and queſtions are agi- tated and decided, according to the degree of regard, or rather ſubmiſſion, which the ſovereign is pleaſed to fhow the church. Is the king a ſlave to the church, though a tyrant to the laity the leaſt refiſtance to his will ſhall be declared damnable. But if he will not ac- knowledge the ſuperiority of their ſpiritual over his temporal, nor even admit their imperium in imperio #, * An empire in an empire. 360 Theological Disputes.Jesuits...Ignatius Loyola. which is the leaſt they will compound for, it becomes meritorious, not only to reſiſt, but to depoſe him. And I ſuppoſe that the bold propoſitions in the theſis you mention are a return for the valuation of les biens du clergé". ~ - - - I would adviſe you, by all means, to attend two or three of their public diſputations, in order to be in- formed both of the manner and the ſubſtance of thoſe ſcholaſtic exerciſes. Pray remember to go to all ſuch kind of things. Do not put it off, as one is too apt to do things which one knows can be done every day, or any day; for one afterwards repents extremely, when too late, the not having done them. - But there is another (ſo called) religious ſociety, of which the minuteſt circumſtance deſerves attention, and furniſhes great matter for uſeful refle&tions. You eaſily gueſs that I mean the ſociety of les R. R. P. P. jeſuites, eſtabliſhed but in the year 1540, by a bull of pope Paul III. Its progreſs, and I may ſay its vićtories, were more rapid than thoſe of the Romans; for within the ſame century, it governed all Europe; and in the next it extended its influence over the whole world. Its founder was an abandoned profligate Spaniſh officer, Ignatius Loyola, who, in the year 152 I, being wounded in the leg at the fiege of Pampelona, went mad from the ſmart of his wound, the reproaches of his conſcience, and his confinement, during which he read the Lives of the Saints. Conſciouſneſs of guilt, a fiery temper, and a wild imagination, the common ingredients of enthu- ſiaſm, made this madman devote himſelf to the parti- cular ſervice of the Virgin Mary; whoſe knight-errant he declared himſelf, in the very.ſame form in which the old knights-errant in romances uſed to declare them- ſelves the knights and champions of certain beautiful and incomparable princeſſes, whom ſometimes they had, but oftener had not ſeen. For Dulcinea del To- boſo was by no means the firſt princeſs whom her faithful and valorous knight had never ſeen in his life. The enthuſiaſt went to the Holy Land, whence he re- turned to Spain, where he began to learn Latin and phi- * The eſtates of the clergy, Policy of the Jesuits. 36 t †oſophy at three-and-thirty years old, ſo that no doubt but he made a great progreſs in both. The better to carry on his mad and wicked deſigns, he choſe four diſ- ciples, or rather apoſtles, all Spaniards, viz. Laynés, Salmeron, Bobadilla, and Rodriguèz. He then corn- poſed the rules and conſtitutions of his order; which, in the year 1 ;47, was called the Order of the Jeſuits, from the church of Jeſus in Rome, which was given them. Ignatius died in 1556, aged ſixty-five, thirty- five years after his converſion, and ſixteen years after the eſtabliſhment of his ſociety. He was cagoniſed in the year 1609. g …” - If the religious and moral principles of this ſociety are to be deteſted, as they juſtly are, the wiſdom of their political principles is as juſtly to be admired. Su- ſpected, colle&tively as an order, of the greateſt crimes, and convićted of many, they have either eſcaped pu- niſhment or triumphed after it, as in France, in the reign of Henry IV. They have, direétly or indireétly, go- verned the conſciences and the councils of all the catho- lic princes in Europe: they almoſt governed China, in the reign of Cang-ghi; and they are now ačtually in poſ- feſſion of the Paraguay in America, pretending, but paying no obedience to the crown of Spain. As a col- lećtive body, they are deteſted, even by all the catho- lics, not excepting the clergy, both ſecular and regu- lar; and yet, as individuals, they are loved, reſpected; and they govern wherever they are. Two things, I believe, chiefly contribute to their ſucceſs. The firſt, that paſſive, implicit, unlimited obedience to their general (who always reſides at ...} and to the ſuperiors of their ſeveral houſes, appointe by him. This obedience is obſerved by them all, to a moſt aſtoniſhing degree; and, I believe, there is no one ſociety in the world, of which ſo many individuals ſacrifice their private intereſt to the general-one of the ſociety itſelf. The ſecond is, the education of youth, which they have in a manner engroſſed; there they give the firſt, and the firſt are the laſting impreſſions: thoſe impreſſions are always calculated to be favourable to the ſociety. I have known many catholics, eda- cated by the Jeſuits, who, though they deteſted the . -- R 362 Paschal's Provincial Letters. ſociety, from reaſon and knowledge, have always re- mained attached to it, from habit and prejudice. The Jeſuits know, better than any ſet of people in the world, the importance of the art of pleaſing, and ſtudy it more: they become all things to all men, in order to gain, not a few, but many. In Aſia, Africa, and America, they becomeºmore than half Pagans, in order to convert the Pagans to be leſs than half Chriſtians.— In private families they begin by infinuating themſelves as friends, they grow to be favourites, and they end directors. Their manners are not like thoſe of any other regulars in the world, but gentle, polite, and en- gaging. They are all carefully bred up to that particu- lar deſtination to which they ſeem to have a natural turn; for which reaſon one ſees moſt Jeſuits excel in ſome particular thing. They even breed up ſome for martyrdom, in caſe of need; as the ſuperior of a Jeſuit feminary at Rome told lord Bolingbroke. Inform yourſelf minutely of every thing concerning this extraordinary eſtabliſhment: go into their houſes, get acquainted with individuals, hear ſome of them preach. The fineſt preacher I ever heard in my life is le Père Neufville, who, I believe, preaches ſtill at Paris, and is ſo much in the beſt company, that you may eaſily get perſonally acquainted with him. * If you would know their morale, read Paſchal’s Let- fres Provinciales, in which it is very truly diſplayed from their own writings. * f Upon the whole, this is certain, that a ſociety, of which ſo little good is ſaid, and ſo much ill believed, and that ſtill not only ſubſiſts but flouriſhes, muſt be a very able one. It is always mentioned as a proof of the ſuperior abilities of the cardinal Richelieu, that, though hated by all the nation, and ſtill more by his maſter, he kept his power in ſpight of both. : I would earneſtly wiſh you to do every thing now which I wiſh that I had done at your age and did not do, Every country has its peculiarities, which one can he much better informed of during one's refidence there than by reading all the books in the world afterwards. While. you are in catholic countries, inform yourſelf of all the forms and ceremonies of that tawdry church : 2- French and English Drama. 363 ſee their convents both of men änd women, know their ſeveral rules and orders, attend their moſt re- markable ceremonies; have their terms of art explained to you, their tierce, ſexte, nones, matines, vépres, com- plies ; their breviaires, roſaires, heures, chapelets, agnus, &c. things that many people talk of from habit, though few know the true meaning of any one of them. Con- verſe with, and ſtudy the charaćters of ſome of thoſe incarcerated enthuſiaſts. Frequent ſome parloirs, and ſee the air and manners of thoſe recluſes, who are a diſtinét nation themſelves, and like no other. . . . - LETTER CXXXIV. New Tragedy...French and English Drama...Critical Re- marks on Tragedy, Comedy, and Opera. . . MY DEAR FRIEND, - London, January the-23d. HAVE you ſeen the new tragedy of Paron”, and what do you think of it Let me know, for I am de- termined to form my taſte upon yours. I hear that the . ſituations and incidents are well brought on, and the cataſtrophe unexpećted and ſurpriſing, but the verſes bad. I ſuppoſe it is the ſubjećt of all the converſations at Paris, where both women and men are judges and critics of all ſuch performances: ſuch converſations, that both form and improve the taſte and whet the judgment, are ſurely preferable to the converſations of our mixed companies here ; which, if they happen to riſe above bragg and whiſt, infallibly ſtop ſhort of every thing either pleaſing or inſtrućtive. I take the reaſon of this to be, that (as women generally give the tone to the converſation) our Engliſh women are not near ſo well informed and cultivated as the French ; beſides that they are naturally more ſerious and filent. I could wiſh there were a treaty made between the French and the Engliſh theatres, in which both parties • ſhould make confiderable conceſſions. The Engliſh ought to give up their notorious violations of all the unities, and all their maſſacres, racks, dead bodies, and mangled carcaſes, which they ſo frequently exhibit * Written by the Picomte de Grave, and at that time the general topic of converſation at Paris * - 2. 3.54 - Critical Remarks on Tragedy. upon their ſtage. The French ſhould engage to have more a&tion, and leſs declamation ; and not to cram and crowd things together, to almoſt a degree of is- poſſibility, from a too ſcrupulous adherence to the unities. The Engliſh ſhould reſtrain the licentiouſneſs of their poets, and the French enlarge the liberty of theirs: their poets are the greateſt ſlaves in their coun- try, and that is a bold word ; ours are the moſt tu- multuous-ſubjećts in England, and that is ſaying a good deal. Under ſuch regulations, one might hope to ſee a play in which one ſhould not be lulled to ſleep by the length of a monotonical declamation, nor frightened and ſhocked by the barbarity of the aëtion. The unity of time extended occaſionally to three or four days, and the unity of place broken into, as far as the ſame ſtreet, or ſometimes the ſame town ; both which, I will affirm, are as probable as four and-twenty hours and the ſame room. - - More indulgence too, in my mind, ſhould be ſhown than the French are willing to allow to bright thoughts and to ſhining images; for though I confeſs it is not very natural for a hero or princeſs to ſay fine things in all the violence of grief, love, rage, &c. yet I can as well ſuppoſe that, as I can that they ſhould talk to themſelves for half an hour; which they muſt neceſ. ſarily do, or no tragedy could be carried on, unleſs they had recourſe to a much greater abſurdity, the cho- ruſes of the antients. Tragedy is of a nature that one muſt ſee it with a degree of ſelf-deception ; we muſt lend ourſelves a little to the deluſion ; and I am very wiliing to carry that complaiſance a little farther than the French do. - z - Tragedy muſt be ſomething bigger than life, or it would not affed us. In nature the moſt violent paſ- fions are ſilent; in tragedy they muſt ſpeak, and ſpeak with dignity too. Hence the neceſſity of their being written in verſe, and, unfortunately for the French, from the weakneſs of their language, in rhymes. And for the ſame reaſon, Cato the Stoic, expiring at Utica, rhymes maſculine and feminine at Paris, and fetches his laſt breath at london in moſt harmonious and correót blank verſe. Comedy, and Opera. - - - 365 It is quite otherwiſe with comedy, which ſhould be mere common life, and not one jot bigger. Every charaćter ſhould ſpeak upon the ſtage, not only what it would utter in the fitüation there repreſented, but in the ſame manner in which it would expreſs it. 6t which reaſon I cannot allow rhymes in comedy, unleſs they were put into the mouth, and came out of the mouth of a mad poet. But it is impoſſible to deceive one’s-ſelf enough (nor is it the leaſt neceſſary in co- medy) to ſuppoſe a dull 'rogue of an uſurer cheating, or gros jean blundering in the fineſt rhymes in the world. . . - : - • As for operas, they are eſſentially too abſurd and extra- vagant to mention : I look upon them as a magic ſcene, contrived to pleaſe the eyes and the ears at the expence of the underſtanding; and I confider ſinging, rhymi- ing, and chiming heroes, and princeſſes and philoſo- phers, as I do the hills, the trees, the birds, and the beaſts, who amicably joined in one common country- dance to the irreſiſtible tune of Orpheus's lyre. When- ever ſ go to an opera, I leave my ſenſe aid reaſon at the door with my half guinea, and deliver myſelf up to my eyes and my ears, Thus I have made you my poetical confeſſion; in which I have acknowledged, as many fins againſt the eſtabliſhed taſte in both countries, as a frank heretic. could have owned againſt the eſtabliſhed church in ei- ther; but I am now privileged by my age to taſte and think for myſelf, and not to care what other people think of me in thoſe reſpects; an advantage which youth, among its many advantages, has not. It muſt bccaſionally and outwardly conform, to a certain de- gree, to eſtabliſhed taſtes, faſhions, and decificns. A young man may, with a becoming modeſty, diſſent in private companies from public opinions and prejudices; but he muſt not attack them with warmth, nor magi- ſterially ſet up his own ſentiments againſt them. En- deavour to hear and know all opinions; receive them with complaiſance; form your own with coolneſs, and, give it with modeſty. .. . g R. 3 f : 366, ) - LETTER Cxxxv. Crities...Question debated how far Ridicule is the Test of ... Truth...Order of St. Esprit...Anecdote of a Dane...Dis- putes between King and Parliament. - - MY DEAR FRIEND, - London, February the 6th. YOUR criticiſm of Paron is ſtrićtly juſt, but, in truth, ſevere. You French critics ſeek for a fault as eagerly as I do for a beauty: you conſider things in the worſt light to ſhow your ſkill, at the expence of your plea- ſure; I view them in the beſt, that I may have more pleaſure, though at the expence of my judgment. But let us ſee if we cannot bring off the author.— . The great queſtion upon which all turns, is to diſcover and aſcertain who Cleonice really is. There are doubts concerning her état ; how ſhall they be cleared Had the truth been extorted from Palom (who alone knew) by the rack, it would have been a true tragical dénoue- ment. But that would probably not have done with Paron, who is repreſented as a bold, determined, wicked, and at that time deſperate fellow ; for he was in the hands of an enemy who he knew could not for- give him with common prudence or ſafety. The rack would therefore have extorted no truth from him ; , but he would have died enjoying the doubts of his enemies, and the confuſion that muſt neceſſarily attend thoſe doubts. A ſtratagem is therefore thought of, to diſco- ver what force and terror could not; and the ſtratagem fuch as no king or miniſter would diſdain, to get at an important diſcovery. If you call that ſtratagem a tricë, you vilify it, and make it comical ; but call that trick a ſératagem or a meaſure, and you dignify it up to tragedy : ſo frequently do ridicule or dignity turn upon one ſingle word. It is commonly ſaid, and more par- ticularly by lord Shafteſbury, that ridicule is the beſt teſt of truth, for that it will not ſtick where it is not juſt. I deny it. . A truth learned in a certain light, and attacked in certain words, by men of wit and humour, may and often doth become ridiculous, at leaſt ſo far, that the truth is only remembered and repeated for the Order of St. Esprit. 367 fake of the ridicule. The overturn of Mary of Medicis into a river, where ſhe was half drowned, would never . have been remembered, if madame de Vernueil, who ſaw it, had not ſaid, La reine boit. Pleaſure or mali- gnity often gives ridicule a weight, which it does not deſerve.—The verſification, I muſt confeſs, is too much neglečted, and too often bad; but, upon the whole, I read-the play with pleaſure. If there is but a great deal of wit and charaćter in your new comedy, I will readily compound for its having little or no plot. I chiefly mind dialogue and charaćter in comedies. Let dull critics feed upon the carcaſes of plays; give me the taſte and the dreſſing. I am very glad you went to Verſailles, to ſee the ce- remony of creating the prince de Condé Chevalier de POrdre ; and I do not doubt but that, upon this occa- fiori, you informed yourſelf thoroughly of the inſtitu- tion and rules of that order. If you did, you were certainly told it was inſtituted by Henry III. immedi- ately after his return, or rather his flight from Poland; he took the hint of it at Venice, where he had ſeen the original manuſcript of an order of the St. Eſprit, ou droit déſir, which had been inſtituted in 1352 by Louis d’Anjou, king of Jeruſalem and Sicily, and huſband to Jane, queen of Naples, counteſs of Provence.— This order was under the protećtion of St. Nicholas de Bari, whoſe image hung to the collar. Henry IIſ. found the order of St. Michael proſtituted and de- graded, during the civil wars; he therefore joined it to his new order of the St. Eſprit, and gave them both together; for which reaſon every knight of the St. Eſprit is now called Chevalier des Ordres du Roi. The number of the knights hath been different, but is now fixed to one hundred, excluſive of the ſovereign. There are many officers who wear the ribband of this order, like the other knights; and what is very fingular is, that theſe officers frequently ſell their employments, but ob- tain leave to wear the blue ribband ſtill, though the pur. chaſers of thoſe offices wear it alſo. A * As you will have been a great while in France, peo- ple will expect that you ſhould be au fair of all theſe ſort of things relative to that country. But the hiſtory R 4 368 Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on History. of all the orders of all countries is well worth your knowledge; the ſubjećt occurs often, and one ſhould not be ignorant of it, for fear of ſome ſuch accident as happened to a ſolid Dane at Paris, who, upon ſeeing 1’Ordre du St. Eſprit, ſaid, Nótre St. Eſprit chez mous c'eſ: wn Eliphant. Almoſt all the princes of Germany have their orders too not dated, indeed, from any important events, or direéted to any great objećt; but becauſe they will have orders, to ſhow that they may ; as ſome of them, who have the ſh; cudenda moneta”, borrow ten ſhillings worth of gold to coin a ducat. However, wherever you meet with them, inform yourſelf, and minute down a ſhort account of them : they take in all the colours of Sir Iſaac Newton's priſms. N. B. When you inquire about them, do not ſeem to laugh. I thank you for le mandement de monſeigneur l'arche- véque; it is very well drawn, and becoming an arch- biſhop. But pray do not loſe fight of a much more important objećt ; I mean the political diſputes between the king and the parliament, and the king and the clergy; they ſeem both to be patching up ; however, get the whole clue to them, as far as they have gone. g | --rººm— LETTER CXXXVI. Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on History...How History is to be read with Effect...Necessity of Civility even to In- feriors. - MY DEAR FRIEND, London, February the 14th. IN a month's time, I believe, I ſhall have the plea- ſure of ſending you, and you will have the pleaſure of reading, a work of lord Bolingbroke's, in two vo- fumes oétavo, upon the uſe of hiſtory, in ſeveral letters to lord Hyde, then lord Cornbury. It is now put into the preſs. It is hard to determine whether this work will inſtručt or pleaſe moſt : the moſt material hiſtorical facts, from the great aera of the treaty of Munſter, are touched upon, accompanied by the moſt ſolid refle&tions, and adorned by all that elegancy of * The right of coinage. How History is to be read with Effect. 369' ſtyle which was peculiar to himſelf, and in which, if Cicero equals, he certainly does not exceed him; but every other writer falls ſhort of him. I would adviſe you almoſt to get this book by heart. I think you have a turn to hiſtory, you love it, and have a memory to retain it; this book will teach you the proper uſe of it. —Some people load their memories, indiſcriminately, with hiſtorical facts, as others do their ſtomachs with food; and bring out the one, and bring up the other, entirely crude and undigeſted. You will find in lord. Bolingbroke's book an infallible ſpecific againſt that epidemical complaint”. - - - . I remember a gentleman who had read hiſtory irº this thoughtleſs and undiſtinguiſhing manner, and who, having travelled, had gone through the Valteline. He told me that it was a miſerable poor country, and therefore it was ſurely a great error in cardinal Riche- lieu to make ſush a rout, and put France to ſo much expence about it. Had my friend read hiſtory, as he ought to have done, he would have known that the great objećt df "that great miniſter was to reduce the power of the houſe of Auſtria; and, in order to that, to cut off, as much as he could, the communication be- tween the ſeveral parts of their then extenſive domi- hions; which refle&tions would have juſtified the car- dinal. to him, in the affair of the Valteline. But it was eaſier to him to remember facts; than to combine and refle&t. - - - * * One ebſervation, I hope, you wiłł make in reading hiſtory; for it is an obvious and a true one; Pt is, that more people have made great figures and great for- tunes in courts by their exterior accompliſhments, than by their interior qualifications. Their engaging ad- . dreſs, the politeneſs of their manners, their air, their turn, hath almoſt always paved the way for their ſupe- rior abilities, if they have ſuch, to exert themſelves.-- They have been favourites before they have been mi- * We cannot but obſerve with pleaſure, that at this time lord Bolingbroke's philoſophical works had not appeared; which ac- counts for lord Cheſterfield’s recommending to his ſon, in this as well as in ſome foregoing paſſages, the ſtudy of lord Bolingbroke's writings, - - R 5 370 Necessity of Civility, even to Inferiors. niſters. In courts, an univerſal gentleneſs and dowceur dans les manières” is moſt abſolutely neceſſary: an of- fended fool, or a ſlighted valet de chambre, may, very poſſibly, do you more hurt at court than ten men of merit can do you good. Fools and low people are al- ways jealous of their dignity, and never forget nor for- give what they reckon a ſlight. On the other hand, they take civility and a little attention as a favour; re- member, and acknowledge it : this, in my mind, is buying them cheap, and therefore they are worth buy- ing. The prince himſelf, who is rarely the ſhining genius of his court, eſteems you only by hearſay, but likes you by his ſenſes; that is, from your air, your politeneſs, and your manner of addreſſing him ; of which alone he is a judge. There is a court garment, as well as a wedding garment, without which you will not be received. That garment is an impoſing air, an elegant politeneſs, eaſy and engaging manners, univer- ſal attention, an infinuating gentleneſs, and all thoſe je ne ſcais quoi that compoſe the graces. * I am this moment difagreeably interrupted by a let- ter; not from you, as I expected, but from a friend of yours at Paris, who informs me that you have a fever, which confines you at home. Since you have a fever, I am glad you have prudence enough with it to ſtay at home, and take care of yourſelf; a little more pru- dence might probably have prevented it. By the way, I do deſire and inſiſt, that, whenever, from any indiſpoſition, you are not able to write to me upon the fixed days, Chriſtian ſhall, and give me a true account how you are. I do not expect from him the Ciceronian epiſtolary ſtyle; but I will content myſelf with the Swiſs ſimplicity and truth. I hope you extend your acquaintance at Paris, and frequent variety of companies, the only way of know- ing the world: every ſet of company differs in ſome particulars from another; and a man of buſineſs muſt, in the courſe of his life, have to do with all ſorts. It is a very great advantage to know the languages of the fe- veral countries one travels in ; and different companies .* Gentleneſs of manners, Necessity of aiming at Perfection. 37 l' may, in ſome degree, be conſidered as different coun- tries: each hath its diſtinétive language, cuſtoms, and manners : know them all, and you will wonder at none. Adieu, child ! Take care of your health; there are no pleaſures without it. LETTER CXXXVII. Necessity of aiming at Perfection... Francis's Eugenia... Parliament ºf Paris...Grand Conseil. My DeAR FRIEND, London, February the 20th. IN all ſyſtems whatſoever, whether of religion, go- vernment, morals, &c. perfeótion is the objećt always propoſed, though poſſibly unattainable; hitherto at leaſt certainly unattained. However, thoſe who aim care- fully at the mark itſelf, will unqueſtionably come nearer it than thoſe who, from deſpair, negligence, or indo- lence, leave to chance the work of ſkill. This maxim holds equally true in common life; thoſe who aim at perfeótion will come infinitely nearer it than thoſe de- ſponding, or indolent ſpirits, who fooliſhly ſay to them- ſelves, ‘Nobody is perfeót; perſe&tion is unattainable; to attempt it is chimerical; I ſhall do as well as others; why then ſhould I give myſelf trouble to be what I never can, and what, according to the common courſe of things, I need not be, perfeółº - ... I am very ſure that I need not point out to you the weakneſs and the folly of this reaſoning, if it deſerves the name of reaſoning. It would diſcourage, and put a ſtop to the exertion of any one of our faculties. On the contrary, a man of ſenſe and ſpirit ſays to himſelf, though the point of perfeótion may (confidering the imperfeótion of our nature) be unattainable, “My Care, my endeavours, my attention, ſhall not be wanting to get as near it as I can. I will approach it every day; poſſibly I may arrive at it at laſt; at leaſt (what I am ſure is in my own power) I will not be diſtanced.” Many fools (ſpeaking of you) fay to me, ‘What, would you have him perfeót: ' I anſwer, “Why not What hurt would it do him or ". O, but that is impoſſible I’ $72 Necessity of aiming at Perfection. ſay they. I reply, “I am not ſure of that: perfeótion in the abſtraćt I admit to be unattainable; but what is commonly called perfeótion in the charaćter 1 main- tain to be attainable, and not only that, but in every man’s power.” “He hath,’ continue they, “a good head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, which will increaſe daily;-what would you have more ?” “Why, I would have every thing more that can adorn and complete a charaćter. Will it do his head, his heart, or his knowledge, any harm, to have the utmoſt deli- cacy of manners, the moſt ſhining advantages of air and addreſs, the moſt endearing attentions, and the moſt engaging graces P. “But as he is,’ ſay they, “he is loved wherever he is known.” “I am very glad of it,' ſay I; ‘ but I would have him be liked before he is known, and loved afterwards. I would have him, by his firſt abord and addreſs, make people with to know him, and inclined to love him : he will ſave a great deal of time by it.” “Indeed, reply they, “you are too nice, too exaët, and lay too much ſtreſs upon things that are of very little conſequence.’ ‘ Indeed, rejºin I, ‘you know very little of the nature of mankind, if you take thoſe things to be of little conſequence: one cannot be too attentive to them ; it is they that always engage the heart, of which the underſtanding is commonly the bubble. And I would much rather that he erred in a point of grammar, of hiſtory, of philoſophy, &c. than in a point of manners and addreſs,’ ‘But confider, he is very young; all this wiil come in time.” “I hope ſo; but that time muſt be while he is young, or it will never be at ali: the right pii muſt be taken young, or it will never be eaſy, nor ſeem natural.’ “Come! come!” * fay they (ſubſtituting, as is frequently done, aſſertion inſtead of argument) depend upon it he will do very well ; and you have a great deal of reaſon to be ſatis- fied with him.’ “I hope and believe he will do well; but I would have him do better than well. I am very well pleaſed with him.; but I would be more, I would be proud of him. I would have him have luſtre as well as weight,” “Did you ever know any body that re-united all theſe talents * : * Yes, I did ; lord Boling- broke joined all the politeneſs, the manners, and the Francis's Eugenia...Parliament of Paris. 373 graces of a courtier, to the ſolidity of a ſtateſman, and to the learning of a pedant. He was ominis homo; and pray what ſhould hinder my boy from being ſo too, if he hath, as I think he hath, all the other qualifications that you allow him Nothing can hinder him, but neglect of, or inattention to thoſe objećts, which his own good ſenſe muſt tell him are of infinite conſe- quence to him, and which, therefore, I will not ſup- poſe him capable of either negle&ting or deſpiſing.” This (to tell you the whole trith) is the reſult of a controverſy that paſſed yeſterday, between lady Hervey and myſelf, upon your ſubjećt, and almoſt in the very words. I ſubmit the deciſion of it to yourſelf; let your own good ſenſe determine it, and make you ačt in con- ſequence of that determination. The receipt to make this compoſition is ſhort and infallible; here I give it you. - . Take variety of the beſt company, wherever you are; be minutely attentive to every word and ačtion; imitate reſpectively thoſe whom you obſerve to be diſtinguiſh- ed and conſidered for any one accompliſhment; then mix all thoſe ſeveral accompliſhments together, and ferve them up yourſelf to others. . Francis's Cénie # hath been ačted twice, with moſt univerſal applauſe; to-night is his third night, and I am going to it. I did not think it would have ſucceeded ſo well, confidering how long our Britiſh audiences have been accuſtomed to murder, racks, and poiſon, in every tragedy; but it affected the heart ſo much, that it triumphed over habit and prejudice. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. The pro- logue, which is a very good one, was made entirely by Garrick. The epilogue is old Cibber's; but correóted, though not enough, by Francis. He will get a great deal of money by it; and, conſequently, be better able to lend you ſix-pence upon any emergency. - The parliament of Paris, I find by the newspapers, has not carried its point, concerning the hoſpitals; and though the king has given up the archbiſhop, yet, as he has put them under the management and direétion * Francis's Eugenia. 374 - Grand Conseil. du grand conſeil, the parliament is equally out of the queſtion. This will naturally put you upon inquiling into the conſtitution of the grand conſeil. You will, doubtleſs, inform yourſelf, who it is compoſed of, what things are de ſon réſort *, whether or not there lies an appeal thence to any other place, and of all other particulars that may give you a clear notion of this aſſembly. There are alſo three or four other conſeil; in France, of which you ought to know the conſtitution, and the objećts: I dare ſay you do know them already; but if you do not, loſe no time in informing yourſelf. Theſe things, as I have often told you, are beſt learned in various French companies; but in no Engliſh ones; for none of our countrymen trouble their heads about them. To uſe a very trite image, collečt, like the bee, your ſtore from every quarter. In ſome companies you may, by proper inquiries, get a general knowledge, at leaſt of the finances. When you are with des gens de robe, ſuck them with regard to the conſtitution, and civil government, and ſic de cacteris f. This ſhows you the advantage of keeping a great deal of different French company,–an advantage much ſuperior to any that you can poſſibly receive from loitering and ſaun- tering away evenings in any Engliſh company at Paris, not even excepting lord A****'s. Love of eaſe, and fear of reſtraint, (to both which I doubt you are, for a young fellow, too much addićted) may invite you among your countrymen ; but pray withſtand thoſe mean temptations, for the ſake of being in thoſe aſſem- blies which alone can inform your mind and improve your manners. You have not now many months to continue at Paris; make the moſt of them : get into every houſe there, if you can; extend acquaintance, know every thing and every body there; that, when you leave it for other places, you may be au fair, and even able to explain whatever you may hear mentioned concerning it.—Adieu! * Within its authority. + So of the reſt, [.. 375 ) *. LETTER cxxxvii.I. Criticism on Ariosto...French and English Classics...Modern, Languages...Delicacy of Expression... Fate of Eugenia. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, March the 2d. WHEREABOUTS are you in Arioſto? Or have you gone through that moſt ingenious contexture of truth and lies, of ſerious and extravagant, of knights-errant, magicians, and all that various matter, which he an- nounces in the beginning of his poem : y Le donne, i cavalier, l'arme, gli amori, Le corteſie, l'audaci impreſe io canto. I am by no means ſure that Homer had ſuperior in- vention, or excelled more in deſcription, than Arioſto. What can be more ſeducing and voluptuous than the deſcription of Alcina’s perſon and palace? What more ingeniouſly extravagant than the ſearch made in the moon for Orlando's loſt wits, and the account of other people's that were found there 2 The whole is worth your attention, not only as an ingenious poem, but as the ſource of all modern tales, novels, fables, and ro- mances; as Ovid’s Metamorphoſis was of the ancient ones : beſides, that when you have read this work, no- thing will be difficult to you in the Italian language. You will read Taſſo's Gieruſalemme, and the Decamerone di Boccaccio, with great facility afterwards; and wher: you have read theſe three authors, you will, in my opinion, have read all the works of invention, that are worth reading, in that language; though the Italians would be very angry at me for ſaying ſo. . . A gentleman ſhould know thoſe which I call claſſical works, in every language; ſuch as Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, &c. in French; Milton, Dryden, Pope, Swift, &c. in Engliſh; and the three authors above- mentioned in Italian: whether you have any ſuch in German, I am not quite ſure, nor, indeed, am I in- quiſitive. Theſe ſort of books adorn the mind, im- prove the fancy, are frequently alluded to by, and are often the ſubjećts of converſations of, the beſt com- panies. As you have languages to read, and memory -- sº, 376 Modern Languages...Delicacy ºf Expression. to retain them, the knowledge of them is very welf worth the little pains it will coſt you, and will enable you' to ſhine in company. It is not pedantic to quote and allude to them, which it would be with regard to the ancients. Among the many advantages which you have had in your education, I do not conſider your knowledge of ſeveral languages as the leaſt. You need not truſt to tranſlations; you can go to the fource : you can both converſe and negotiate with people of all nations, upon equal terms; which is by no means the cafe of a man who converſes or negotiates in a language which thoſe with whom he hath to do know much better than himſelf. In buſineſs, a great deal may depend upon the force and extent of one word ; and in converſation, a moderate thought may gain, or a good one loſe, by the propriety --- or impropriety, the elegancy or inelegancy, of one ſingle word. As therefore you know four modern lan. guages well, I would have you ſtudy (and, by the way, it will be very little trouble to you) to know them cor- rečtly, accurately, and delicately. Read ſome little books that treat of them, and aſk queſtions concerning their delicacies, of thoſe who are able to anſwer you. As for inſtance, ſhould I ſay in French, la lettre que je. vous ai écrit, or, la lettre que je vous ai écrite; in which, I think, the French differ among themſelves. - There is a ſhort French grammar, by the Port Royal, and another by Père Buffier, both which are worth your reading; as is alſo a little book called Synomimes François. There are books of that kind upon the Italian language, into ſome of which I would adviſe you to dip: poſſibly the German language may have ſomething of the ſame fort; and ſince you already ſpeak it, the more properly you ſpeak it, the better: one would, I think, as far as poſſible, do all one does, correóily and elegantly. It is extremely engaging, to people of every nation, to meet with a foreigner who hath taken pains enough to ſpeak their language correótly : it flatters that local and na- .tional pride and prejudice, of which every body hath ſome ſhare. ... " - Francis's Eugenia, which I will ſend you, pleaſed moſt people of good taſte here; the boxes were crowded *. Attention to Health...Employment of Time. - 377 till the fixth night; when the pit and gallery were to- tally deſerted, and it was dropped. Diſtreſs, without death, was not ſufficient to affect a true Britiſh au- dience, ſo long accuſtomed to daggers, racks, and bowls of poiſon; contrary to Horace's rule, they defire to ſee Medea murder her children upon the ſtage. The ſenti- ments were too delicate to move them; and their hearts are to be taken by ſtorm, not by parley. LETTER CXXXIX. Attention to Health necessary... Employment of Time... Sloth ...Poltaire's Rome Sauvée, &c. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, March the 5th. AS I have received no letter from you by the uſual poſt, I am uneaſy upon account of your health; for, had you been well, I am ſure you would have written, according to your engagement, and my requiſition. You have not the leaſt notion of any care of your health; but, though I would not have you be a valetu- dinarian, I muſt tell you, that the beſt and moſt robuſt health requires ſome degree of attention to preſerve. Young fellows, thinking they have ſo much health and time before them, are very apt to negle&t or laviſh both, and beggar themſelves before they are aware: whereas a prudent economy in both would make them rich in- deed; and ſo far from breaking in upon their pleaſures, would improve, and almoſt perpetuate them. Be you wifer; and, before it is too late, manage both with care and frugality; and lay out neither, but upon good in- tereſt and ſecurity. - - - - I will now confine myſelf to the employment of your time, which, though I have often touched upon for- merly, is a ſubjećt that, from its importance,” will bear repetition. You have, it is true, a great deal of time before you; but, in this period of your life, one hour uſefully employed may be worth more than four-and- twenty hereafter; a minute is precious to you now, whole days may poſſibly not be ſo forty years hence. Whatever time you allow, or can ſnatch for ſerious $. i-- ** *., -*. ºf s 87s . Employment of Time... Sloth. reading (I ſay ſnatch, becauſe company and the know- ledge of the world is now your chief obječt), employ it in the reading of ſome one book, and that a good one, till you have finiſhed it and do not diſtraćt your mind with various matters at the ſame time. In this light, I would recommend to you to read Grotius De jure Belli et Pacis, tranſlated by Barbeyrac, and Puffendorf's jus Gentium, tranſlated by the ſame hatid. For acci- dental quarters of hours, read works of invention, wit, and humour, of the beſt and not of trivial authors, either ancient or modern. Whatever buſineſs you have, do it the firſt moment you can ; never by halves, but finiſh it without inter- ruption, if poſſible. Buſineſs muſt not be ſauntered and trifled with ; and you muſt not ſay to it, as Felix did to Paul, “at a more convenient ſeaſon I will ſpeak “ to thee.” The moſt convenient ſeaſon for buſineſs is the firſt; but ſtudy and buſineſs, in ſome meaſure, point out their own times to a man of ſenſe; time is much oftener ſquandered away in the wrong choice and improper methods of amuſement and pleaſures, Many people think that they are in pleaſures, pro- vided they are neither in ſtudy nor in buſineſs. No- thing like it; they are doing nothing, and might juſt as well be aſleep. They contraćt habitudes from lazi- neſs, and they only frequent thoſe places where they are free from all reſtraints and attentions. Be upon your guard againſt this idle profuſion of time; and let every place you go to be either the ſcene of quick and lively pleaſures, or the ſchool of your improvements : let every company you go into either gratify your ſenſes, extend your knowledge, or refine your manners. Have ſome rational objećt of amuſement in view at ſome places; frequent others, where people of wit and taſte aſſemble; get into others, where people of ſuperior rank and dignity command reſpect and attention from the reſt of the company; but pray frequent no neutral places, from mere idleneſs and indolence. Nothing forms a young man ſo much as being uſed to keep re- ſpectable and ſuperior company, where conſtant regard and attention is neceſſary. It is true, this is at firſt a diſagreeable ſtate of reſtraint; but it ſoon grows habi- "rº- Poltaire's Rome Saurée.’ . 379 tual, and conſequently eaſy; and you are amply paid for it by the improvement you make, and the credit it gives you. What you ſaid ſome time ago was very true, concerning le palais royal ; to one of your age the ſituation is diſagreeable enough ; you cannot expect to be much taken notice of: but all that time you can take-notice of others, obſerve their manners, decypher their charaćters, and inſenſibly you will become one of the company. - - All this I went through myſelf, when I was of your age. I have ſate hours in company without being taken the leaſt notice of; but then I took notice of them, and learned in their company how to behave myſelf better in the next, till by degrees I became part of the beſt companies myſelf. But I took great care not to laviſh away my time in thoſe companies, where there were neither quick pleaſures nor uſeful im- provements to be expečted, * * - Sloth, indolence, and molleſe are pernicious, and un- becoming a -young man; let them be your reſource forty years hence at ſooneſt. Determine, at all events, and however diſagreeable it may be to you in ſome re- ſpects, and for ſome time, to keep the moſt diſtin- guiſhed and faſhionable company of the place you are at, either for their rank or for their learning. This gives you credentials to the beſt companies, wherever you go afterwards. Pray, therefore, no indolence, no lazineſs ; but employ every minute of your life in ac- tive pleaſures or uſeful employments. I long to read Voltaire's Rome Sauvée, which, by the very faults that your ſevere critics find with it, I am ſure I ſhall like ; for I will, at any time, give up a good deal of regularity for a great deal of brillant ; and for . the drillant, ſurely nobody is equal to Voltaire. Ca- tiline's conſpiracy is an unhappy ſubjećt for a tragedy; it is too fingle, and gives no opportunity to the poet to excite any of the tender paſſions; the whole is one in- tended ačt of horror. Crébillon was ſenſible of this defe&t, and, to create another intereſt, moſt abſurdly made Catiline in love with Cicero's daughter, and her with him. * Af rº- 380 Theories of Youth. I am very glad you went to Verſaillés, and dined with monſieur de St. Conteſt. That is company to }earn les bonnes manières in ; and it ſeerns you had les éons moryeaux into the bargain. Though you were no part of the king of France's converſation with the fo- reign miniſters, and probably not much entertained with it, do you think that it is not very uſeful to you to hear it, and to obſerve the turn and manners of peo- ple of that ſort 2. It is extremely uſeful to know it well. The ſame in the next rank of people, ſuch as miniſters of ſtate, &c. in whoſe company, though you cannot yet, at your age, be a part, and conſequently be di- verted, you will obſerve and learn what hereafter it may be neceſſary for you to act. - Tell Sir John Lambert, that I have this day fixed Mr. Spencer's having his credit upon him; Mr. Hoare had alſo recommended him. I believe Mr. Spencer will ſet out next month for ſome place in France, but not Paris. I am ſure he wants a great deal of France, for at preſent he is moſt entirely Engliſh; and you know very well of what I think of that. And ſo we bid you heartily good night. -*wºm- LETTER CXL. . Theories of Youth...Triumph of the Heart and Passions... Shades of Character...Election of King of the Romans... Ill Policy in Nations giving a Pretext to neighbouring Powers to interfere in their Concerns...Examples. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, March the 16th. How do you go on with the moſt uſeful and moſt neceſſary of all ſtudies, the ſtudy of the world Do you find that you gain knowledge ; and does your daily experience at once extend and demonſtrate your improvement? You will poſſibly aſk me how you cal). judge of that yourſelf. I will tell you a ſure way of knowing. Examine yourſelf, and ſee whether your notions of the world are changed, by experience, from what they were two years ago in theory; for that alone is one favourable ſymptom of improvement. At that Triumph ºf the Heart and Passions. 38-1 age (I remember it in myſelf) every notion that one forms is erroneous; one hath ſeen few models, and thoſe none of the beſt, to form one's-ſelf upon. One. thinks that every thing is to be carried by ſpirit and vi- gour; that art is meanneſs, and that verſatility and complaiſance are the refuge of puſillanimity and weak- neſs. This moſt miſtaken opinion gives an indelicacy and a roughneſs to the manners. Fools, who can never . be undeceived, retain them as long as they live : re- fle&tion, with a little experience, makes men of ſenſe. fhake them off ſoon. When they come-to be a little. better acquainted with themſelves, and with their own ſpecies, they diſcover that plain right reaſon is, nine times in ten, the fettered and ſhackled attendant of the triumph of the heart and the paſſions; conſequently, they addreſs themſelves nine times in ten to the con- queror, not to the conquered : and conquerors, you know, muſt be applied to in the gentleſt, the moſt en- gaging, and the moſt infinuating manner. Have you; diſcovered what variety of little things affe&t the heart, and how ſurely they colle&tively gain it If you have, you have made ſome progreſs. I would try a man’s knowledge of the world as I would a ſchool-boy's knowledge of Horace; not by making him conſtrue Maecenas atavis edite regibus, which he could do in the firſt form, but by examining him as to the delicacy and curioſa felicitas” of that poet. A man requires very. Hittle knowledge and experience of the world to under- fand glaring, high-coloured, and decided charaćters; they are but few, and they ſtrike at firſt : but to diſtin- guiſh the almoſt imperceptible ſhades, and the nice gradations of virtue and vice, ſenſe and folly, ſtrength - and weakneſs; (of which charaćters are commonly compoſed) demands ſome experience, great obſervā- tion, and minute attention. In the ſame caſes moſt people do the ſame things, but with this material dif. ference, upon which the ſucceſs commonly turns—A man who hath ſtudied the world knows when to time, and where to place them ; he hath analyſed the charac- ters he applies to, and adapted his addreſs and his argu- º: Happy expreſſion. ^ 382 Shades of Character. ments to them : but a man of what is called plain good ſenſe, who hath only reaſoned by himſelf, and not aćted with mankind, miſ-times, miſ-places, runs pre- cipitately and bluntly at the mark, and falls upon his noſe in the way. In the common manners of ſocial hife, every man of common ſenſe hath the rudiments, the A B C of civility; he means not to offend, and even wiſhes to pleaſe; and, if he hath any real merit, will be received and tolerated in good company. But that is far from being enough ; for, though he may be received, he will never be defired; though he does not offend, he will never be loved ; but, like ſome little, inſignificant, neutral power, ſurrounded by great ones, he will neither be feared nor courted by any; but, by turns, invaded by all, whenever it is their intereſt. A moſt contemptible ſituation | Whereas, a man who hath carefully attended to and experienced the various workings of the heart, and the artifices of the head; and who, by one ſhade, can trace the progreſſion of . the whole colour; who can, at the proper times, em- ploy all the ſeveral means of perſuading the under- ſtanding, and engaging the heart ; may, and will have enemies, but will and muſt have friends: he may be oppoſed, but he will be ſupported too; his talents may excite the jealouſy of ſome, but his engaging arts will make him beloved by many more ; he will be confider- able, he will be conſidered. Many different qualifica- tions muſt conſpire to orm ſuch a man, and to make him at once reſpectable and amiable, and the leaſt muſt be joined to the greateſt; the latter would be unavail- ing without the former, and the former would be futile and frivolous without the latter. Learning is acquired by reading books; but the much more neceſſary learn- ing, the knowledge of the world, is only to be ac- quired by reading men, and ſtudying all the various editions of them. Many words in every language are generally thought to be ſynonymous; but thoſe who ſtudy the language attentively will find that there is no ſuch thing; they will diſcover ſome little difference, ſome diſtinétion, between all thoſe words that are vul- garly called ſynonymous ; one hath always more energy, extent, or delicacy, than another: it is the ſame with Election of King of the Romans. 333 men; all are in general, and yet no two in particular, exačtly alike. Thoſe who have not accurately ſtudied, perpetually miſtake them: they do not diſcern the ſhades and gradations that diſtinguiſh charaćters ſeem- ingly alike. Company, various company, is the only. ſchool for this knowledge. You ought to be, by this time, at leaſt in the third form of that ſchool, whente the riſe to the uppermoſt is eaſy and quick; but then you muſt have application and vivacity; and you muſt not only bear with, but even ſeek reſtraint in moſt companies, inſtead of ſtagnating in one or two only, where indolence and love of eaſe may be indulged. In the plan which I gave you in my laſt “ for your future motions, L forgot to tell you, that, if a king of the Romans ſhould be choſen this year, you ſhall cer- tainly be at that eleētion; and as upon thoſe occaſions all ſtrangers are excluded from the place of the ele&tion, except ſuch as belong to ſome embaſſador, I have already eventually ſecured you a place in the ſuite of the king's eleētoral embaſſador, who will be ſent upon that account to Frankfort, -or wherever elſe the eleētion may be. This will not only ſecure you a fight of the ſhow, but a knowledge of the whole thing; which is likely to be a conteſted one, from the oppo- fition of ſome of the eleētors, and the proteſts of ſome of the princes of the empire. That election, if there is one, will in my opinion be a memorable aera in the hiſtory of the empire: pens at leaſt, if not ſwords, will be drawn; and ink, if not blood, will be plentifully ſhed by the contending parties in that diſpute. During the fray, you may ſecurely plunder, and add to your preſent ſtock of knowledge of the jus publicum imperii. —The court of France hath, I am told, appointed le préſident Ogier, a man of great abilities, to go imme- diately to Ratiſbon, pour y ſtuffer la diſcordet. It muſt be owned, that France hath always profited ſkilfully of its having guaranteed the treaty of Munſter, which hath given it a conſtant pretence to thruſt itſelf into the affairs of the empire. When France got Alſace yielded by treaty, it was very willing to have held it as a fief of the empire ; but the empire was then wiſer. * That letter is miſſing. + To blow up diſcord, $84. Dispute between the King and Parliament. Every power ſhould be very careful not to give the leaſt pretence to a neighbouring power to meddle with the affairs of its interior. Sweden hath already felt the effects of the Czarina's calling herſelf guarantee of its preſent form of government, in conſequence of the treaty of Neuſtadt, confirmed afterwards by that of Abo ; though, in truth, that guarantee was rather a proviſion againſt Ruſſia's attempting to alter the then new-eſtabliſhed form of government in Sweden, than any right given to Ruſſia to hinder the Swedes from eſtabliſhing what form of government they pleaſed.— Read them both, if you can get them.—Adieu ! -ºuma- LETTER CXLI. Dispute between the King and Parliament... Prophecy of the French Revolution...?'oltaire's Age of Louis X1/.../n- judicious Parents, Enemies to their Children. DEAR FRIEND, London, April the 13th. I Receive this moment your letter of the 19th, with the incloſed pieces relative to the preſent diſpute be- tween the king and the parliament. I ſhall return them by lord Huntingdon, whom you will ſoon ſee at' Paris, and who will likewiſe carry you the piece, which I forgot in making up the packet I ſent you by the Spaniſh embaſſador. The repreſentation of the par- liament is very well drawn, ſuavitér in modo, fortitºr in re. They tell the king very reſpectfully, that in a certain caſe, which they /ould think it criminal to ſuppoſe, they would not obey him. This bath a tendency to what we call here revolution principles. I do not know what the Lord's anointed, his vicegerent upon earth, divinely appointed by him, and accountable to none but him for his ačtions, will either think or do upon theſe ſymptoms of reaſon and good ſenſe, which ſeem to be breaking out all over France ; but this I foreſee, that, before the end of this century, the trade of both king and prieſt will not be half ſo good a one as it has been. —Du Clos, in his refle&tions, hath obſerved, and very. truly, Qu'il y a un germe de raiſon qui commence & ſe dé- * Poltaire's Age of Lewis IP. 38.5 velopper en France". . A développement that muſt prove fatal to regal and papal pretenſions. Prudence may, in many caſes, recommend an occaſional ſubmiſſion to either ; but when that ignorance, upon which an im- plicit faith in both could only be founded, is once re- moved, God's vicegerent, and Chriſt's vicar, will only be obeyed and believed as far as what the one orders, and the other ſays, is conformable to reaſon and to truth. - - - I am very glad (to uſe a vulgar expreſſion) that yore make as if you were not well, though you really are ; E am ſure it is the likelieſt way to keep ſo. Pray leave off entirely your greaſy, heavy paſtry, fat creams, and in- digeſtible dumplings; and then you need not confine yourſelf to white meats, which I do not take to be one jot wholeſomer than beef, mutton, and partridge. Voltaire ſent me from Berlin his hiſtory du Siècle de H.ouis XIV. It came at a very proper time; Lord Bo- lingbroke had juſt taught me how hiſtory ſhould be read; Voltaire ſhows me how it ſhould be written. I am ſenſible, that it will meet with almoſt as many cri- tics as readers, Voltaire muſt be criticiſed: beſides, every man's favourite is attacked; for every prejudice is expoſed, and our prejudices are our miſtreſſes; rea- ſon is at beſt our wife, very often heard indeed, but ſel- dom minded. It is the hiſtory of the human under- ſtanding, written by a man of parts, for the uſe of men. of parts. ‘Weak minds will not like it, even though they do not underſtand it; which is commonly the mea- ſure of their admiration. Dull ones will want thoſe mi- nute and unintereſting details, with which moſt other hiſ- tories are incumbered. He tells me all I want to know, and nothing more. His reflections are ſhort, juſt, and produce others in his readers. Free from political and national prejudices, he relates all thoſe matters as truly and as impartially as certain regards, which muſt al- ways be to ſome degree obſerved, will allow him : for one ſees plainly, that he often ſays much leſs than he would ſay if he might. He has made me much better * That there is a germ of reaſon which begins to develope itſelf in France. - - S 386 /oltaire's Age of Lewis IP. acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV. than the innu- merable volumes which I had read could do ; and hath függeſted this refle&tion to me, which I had never made before—his vanity, not his knowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and ſciences in his country. He opened in a manner the human un- derſtanding in France, and brought, it to its utmoſt per- fečtion; his age equalled in all, and greatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, pedants 1) the Auguſtan. This was great and rapid; but ſtill it might be done by the encouragement, the applauſe, and the rewards, of a vain, liberal, and magnificent prince. What is much more ſurpriſing is, that he ſtopped the operations of the human mind juſt where he pleaſed, and ſeemed to ſay, “Thus far ſhalt thou go, and no farther.” For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his power, free and ra- tional thoughts upon either never entered into a French head during his reign; and the greateſt geniuſes that ever any age produced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of kings, or the infallibility of the church. Poets, orators, and philoſophers, ignorant of their natural rights, cheriſhed their chains; and blind aćtive faith triumphed, in thoſe great minds, over ſilent and paſſive reaſon. The reverſe of this ſeems now to be the caſe in France: reaſon opens itſelf; fancy and invention fade and decline. - - I will ſend you a copy of this hiſtory by lord Hun- tingdon, as I think it very probable that it is not al- lowed to be publiſhed and ſold at Paris. Pray read it more than once, and with attention, particularly the fecond volume; which contains, ſhort, but very clear accounts of many very intereſting things which are talked of by every body, though fairly underſtood by very few. There are two very puerile affectations, which I wiſh this book had been free from ; the one is, the total ſubverſion of all the old eſtabliſhed French orthography; the other is, the not making uſe of any one gapital letter throughout the whole book, except at the beginning of a paragraph. It offends my eyes to ſee rome, paris, france, caeſar, henry the 4th, &c. begin with ſmall letters; and I do not conceive that there can be any reaſon for doing it half ſo ſtrong as Injudicious Parents, Enemies to their Children, 337 the reaſon of long uſage is to the contrary. This is an affectation below Voltaire. * * I had a letter, a few days ago, from monfieur du Boccage; in which he ſays, Monſieur Stanhope sºft jetté dant la politique, et je crois qu'il y réuffra” ; you do very well, it is your deſtination ; but remember, that, to {ucceed in great things, one muſt firſt learn to pleaſe in little ones. Engaging manners and addreſs muſt pre- pare the way for ſuperior knowledge and abilities to ačt with effect. The late duke of Marlborough's man- ners and addreſs prevailed with the firſt king of Pruſſia to let his troops remain in the army of the allies, when neither their repreſentations, nor his own ſhare in the common cauſe, could do it. The duke of Marlbo- rough had no new matter to irge to him; but had a manner which he could not, and did not reſiſt. Vol- taire, among a thouſand little delicate ſtrokes of that kind, ſays of the duke de la Feuillade, Qu'il &oie l'homme le plus brillant et le plus aimable du rôiaume, et quoigue gendre du général et miniſłre, 'il avoit pour lui la faveur publique S. . Various little circumſtances of toat fort will often make a man of great real merit be hated, if he hath not addréſs and manners to make him be loved. Conſider all your own circumſtances ſeriouſly, and you will find that, of all arts, the art of pleaſing is the moſt neceſſäry for you to ſtudy and poſſeſs. A filly tyrant ſaid, Oderint modo timeant a wiſe man would have ſaid, Modo ament nihil timendum eſ; mihif.- Judge, from your own daily experience, of the efficacy of that pleaſing je me ſcais quoi, when you feel, as you and every body certainly does, that in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in women than beauty. I long to ſee lord and lady ***, (who are not yet arrived) becauſe they have lately ſeen you; and I al- ways fancy that I call fiſh out ſomething new from thoſe # Mr. Stanhope is involved in the vortex of politics, and I think he will succeed. . § That he was the moſt brilliant and anaiable man in the kingdom, and, though the ſon-in-law of a general and a ininiſter, was yet a favourite with the public. ... - - + Let theta hate, if they but fear. : While they love me I have nothing to fear. S 2. w 3$8 Yarieties in the Human Character. who have ſeen you laſt : not that I ſhall much rely upon their accounts, becauſe I diſtruſt the -judgment of lord and lady *** in thoſe, matters about which I am moſt inquiſitive. They have ruined their own ſon, by what they called and thought loving him. They have made him believe that the world was made for him, not he for the world; and unleſs he ſtays abroad a great while, and falls into very good company, he will expect, what he will never find, the attentions and com- plaiſance from others which he has hitherto been uſed to from papa and mamma. This I fear is too much the caſe of Mr. ****, who, I doubt, will be run through the body, and be near dying, before he knows how to live. However you may turn out, you can never make me any of theſe reproaches. I indulged no ſilly, wo- maniſh fondneſs for you : inſtead of inflićting my ten- derneſs upon you, I have taken all poſſible methods to make you deſerve it; and thank Gold you do; at leaſt I know but one article in which you are different from what I could wiſh you, and you very well-know what that is. I want that I and all the world ſhould like 3 ou as well as I love you. Adieu. • ~-ºm- LETTER CXLII. P'arieties and nice Distinctions in the Human Character... Command of Temper. - MY DEAR FRIEND, . - London, April the 30th. .1/Oſr du monde is, in my opinion, a very juſt and happy expreſſion for having addreſs, manners, and for knowing how to behave properly in all companies; and it implies very truly, that a man that bath, not theſe accompliſhments is not of the world. . Without them, the beſt parts are inefficient, civility is abſurd, and freedom offenſive. A learned parſon, ruſting in his cell at Oxford or Cambridge, will reaſon admirably well upon the nature of man; will profoundly analyſe the head, the heart, the reaſon, the will, the paſſions, the ſenſes, the ſentiments, and all thoſe fubdiviſions of we know not what; and yet, unfortunately, he knows Alice Distinctions in the Human Character. 389 nothing of man : for he hath not lived with him; and is ignorant of all the various modes, habits, prejudices, and taſtes, that always influence and often determine him. He views man as he does colours in Sir Iſaac Newton’s priſm, where only capital ones are ſeen ; but an experienced dyer knows all their various ſhades and gradations, together with the reſult of their ſeveral mixtures. Few men are of one plain, decided colour; moſt are mixed, ſhaqed, and blended ; and vary as much, from different ſituations, as changeable filks do from different lights. The man qui a du monde knows. all this from his own experience and obſervation: the conceited, cloiſtered philoſopher knows nothing of it from his own theory; his pračtice is abſurd and im- proper; and he ačts as awkwardly as a man would dance who had never ſeen others dance, nor learned of a dancing-maſter, but who had only ſtudied the notes by which dances are now pricked down, as well as- tunes. Obſerve and imitate, then, the addreſs, the arts, and the manners of thoſe qui ont du monde : ſee by . what methods they firſt make, and afterwards improve . . impreſſions in their favour. Thoſe impreſſions are “ much oftener owing to little cauſes, than to intrinſic merit, which is leſs volatile, and hath not ſo ſudden an effect. Strong minds have undoubtedly an aſcendant over weak ones, as Galigai maréchale d'Ancre very juſtly obſerved, when, to the diſgrace and reproach of thoſe times, ſhe was executed for having governed Mary of Medicis by the arts of witchcraft and magic. But then aſcendant is to be gained by degrees, and by thoſe arts only which experience and the knowledge of - the world teaches; for few are mean enough to be bul- lied, though moſt are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often ſeen people of ſuperior, governed by people of much inferior parts, without knowing or even ſu- ſpecting that they were ſo governed. This Can only happen, when thoſe people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity and experience than thoſe they go- vern. They ſee the weak and unguarded part, and apply to it: they take it, and all the reſt follows. . This knowledge of the world teaches us more par- ticularly two things, both of which are of infinite con- * 390 Command of Nemper. ſequence, and to neither of which nature inclines us ; I mean the command of our temper, and of our counte- nance. A man who has no monde is inflamed with an- ger, or annihilated with ſhame at every diſagreeable incident: the one makes him ağ and talk like a mad- man, the other makes him look like a fool. But a man who has du monde, ſeems not to underſtand what he cannot or ought not to reſent. If he makes a ſlip him- ſelf, he recovers it by his coolneſs, inſtead of plunging deeper by his confuſion like a ſtumbling horſe. He is firm, but gentle; and pračtiſes that moſt excellent maxim, ſuavitºr in modo, fortitºr in re. People, unuſed to the world, have babbling countenances; and are unſkilful enough to ſhow what they have ſenſe enough not to tell, In the courſe of the world, a man muſt very often put on an eaſy, frank countenance, upon wery diſagreeable ſituations; he muſt ſeem pleaſed, when he is very much otherwiſe; he muſt be able to accoſt and receive with ſmiles, thoſe whom he would much rather meet with ſwords. All this may, pay muſt be done, without falſehood and treachery : for it muſt o no farther than politeneſs and manners, and muſt # ſhort of aſſurances and profeſſions of fimulated friendſhip. Good manners to thoſe one does not love are no more a breach of truth, than “your humble . ſervant” at the bottom of a challenge is; they are uni- verſally agreed upon, and underſtood to be things of courſe. They are neceſſary guards of the decency and peace of ſociety : they muſt only ačt defenſively; and then not with arms poiſoned with perfidy. Truth, but not the whole truth, muſt be the invariable principle of every man who hath either religion, honour, or pru- dence. Thoſe who violate it may be cunning, but they are not able. Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools and cowards.—Adieu ! ſ 391 . I LETTER CXLIII. - w º ** * Românce of Cassandra...German Courts...Attention to those who speak... Favourite Expression of Fools. . MY DEAR FRIEND, t - London,. May the 11th. I BREAK my word by writing this letter; but I break it on the allowable ſide, by doing more than I promiſed. I have pleaſure in writing to you, and you may poſſibly have ſome profit in reading what I write: either of the motives were ſufficient for me; both I cannot withſtand. By your laſt I calculate that you will leave Paris this day ſevennight; upon that ſuppoſition this letter may ſtill find you there. . . . . . Colonel Perry arrived here two or three days ago, and ſent me a book from you; “Caſſandra abridged.” P am ſure it cannot be too much abridged. The ſpirit of that moſt vollºquinous work, fairly extraćted, may be contained in the ſmalleſt dućdecimo; and it is moſt aſto- niſhing that there ever could have been people idle enough to write or read ſuch endleſs heaps of the ſame ftuff. It was, however, the occupation of thouſands in the laſt century; and is ſtill the private, though diſ- avowed, amuſement of young girls and ſentimental ladies, A love-ſick girl finds, in the captain with whom ſhe is in love, all the courage and all the graces of the tender and accompliſhed Oroondates; and many a grown-up fentimental lady talks delicate Clelia to the hero whom fhe would engage to eternal love, or laments with her that love is not eternal. .. It is, however, very well to have read one of thoſe extravagant works (of all, which La Calprenede's are the beſt) becauſe it is well to be able to talk, with ſome degree of knowledge, upon all thoſe ſubjećts that other people talk ſometimes upon; and I would by no means have any thing, that is known to others, be totally un- known to you. It is a great advantage for any man to be able to talk, or to hear, neither ignorantly nor ab- ſurdly, upon any ſubjećt; for I have known people, who have not ſaid one word, hear ignorantly and ab- furdly; it has appeared in their inattentive and unmean- ing faces. • S4 ^, 392 - German Courts. This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you, as to any body of your age : and, if you will but add a ver- ſatility and eaſy conformity of manners; I know no company in which you are likely to be de trop. This verſatility is more particularly neceſſary for you at this time, now that you are going to ſo many different places; for though the manners and cuſtoms of the feveral courts of Germany are in general the fame, yet every one has its particular charaćteriſtic, fone peculiarity or other which diſtinguiſhes it from the next. This you ſhould carefully attend to, and imme- diately adopt. Nothing flatters people more, nor makes. ſtrangers ſo welcome, as ſuch an occaſional conformity. I do not mean by this, that you ſhould mimic the air and ſtiffneſs of every awkward German court; no, by no means; but I mean that you ſhould only cheerfully com- ply, and fall in with certain local habits, ſuch as ceremo- nies, diet, turn of converſation, &c. People who are lately come from Paris, and who have been a good while there, are generally ſuſpected, and eſpecially in Germany, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. Take great care that nothing of this kind ap- pear, at leaſt outwardly, in your behaviour; but com- mend whatever deſerves any degree of commendation, without comparing it with what you may have left much better of the ſame kind at Paris. As, for inſtance, the German kitchen is, without doubt, execrable, and the French delicious; however, never commend the French kitchen at a German table, but eat of what you can find tolerable there, and commend it, without comparing it. to any thing better. I have known many Britiſh Ya- hoos, who, though while they were at Paris conformed to no one French cuſtom, as ſoon as they got any where elſe, talked of nothing but what they did, ſaw, and eat at Paris. The freedom of the French is not to be uſed indiſcriminately at all the courts in Germany, though their eaſineſs may, and ought; but that too at ſome places more than others. The courts of Manheim and Bonn, I take to be a little more unbarbariſed than ſome others; that of Mayence, an eccleſiaſtical one, as well as that of Treves, (neither of which is much frequented by foreigners) retains, I conceive, a great deal of the Attention to those who speak. , 393 Goth and Vandal ſtill, There, more reſerve and cere- mony are neceſſary; and not a word of the French. At Berlin, you cannot be too French. Hanover, Brunſ wick, Caſſel, &c. are of the mixed kind. * - Another thing, which I moſt earneſtly recommend to you, not only in Germany, but in every part of the world where you may ever be, is, not dmly real, but ſeeming attention to whomever you ſpeak to, or to whoever ſpeaks to you. There is nothing ſo brutally ſhocking, nor ſo little forgiven, as a ſeeming inattention to the perſon who is ſpeaking to you'; and I have known many a man knocked down, for (in my opinion) . a much ſlighter provocation, than that ſhocking inat- tention which I mean, I have ſeen many people, who, while you are ſpeaking to them, inſtead of looking at, and attending to you, fix their eyes upon the ceiling, or ſome other part of the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl their ſnuff-box, or pick their noſe. Nothing diſcovers a little, futile, frivolous mind more than this, and nothing is ſo offenſively ill-bred : it is an explicit declaration on your part, that every the moſt trifling objećt deſerves your attention more than all that can be ſaid by the perſon who is ſpeaking to you. Judge of the ſentiments of hatred and reſentment which ſuch treatment muſt excite, in every breaſt where any degree of ſelf-love dwells; and I am ſure, I never yet met with that breaſt where there was not a great deal. . it again and again, (for it is highly ne- ceſſary for you to remember it) that ſort of vanity and ſelf-love is inſeparable from human nature, whatever may be its rank or condition; even your footman will ſooner forget and forgive a beating, than any manifeſt mark of ſlight and contempt. Be therefore, I beg of you, not only really, but ſeemingly and manifeſtly, at- tentive to whoever ſpeaks to you; nay more, take their tone, and tune yourſelf to their uniſon. Be ſerious with the ſerious, gay with the gay, and trifle with the triflers. In aſſuming theſe various ſhapes, endeavour to make each of them ſeem to fit eaſy upon you, and even to appear to be your own natural one. This is the true and uſeful verſatility, of which a thorough knowledge | -- % S 5 - * *. 394. Favourite Erpression ºf Fools. of the world at once teaches the utility and the means of acquiring, I am very ſure, at leaſt I hope, that you will never make uſe of a filly expreſſion, which is the favourite ex- preſſion, and the abſurd excuſe of all fools and block- heads; “I cannot do ſuch a thing :” a thing by no means either morally or phyſically impoffiblé. “I cannot attend long together to the ſame thing,” ſays one fool: that is, he is ſuch a fool that he will not. I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not know what to do with his ſword, and who always took it off before dinner, ſaying, that he could not poſſibly dine with his ſword on ; upon which I could not help telling him, that I really believed he could, without any probable danger either to himſelf or others. It is a ſhame and an abſur- dity for any man to ſay, that he cannot do all thoſe things which are commonly done by all the reſt of fnankind. * Another thing, that I muſt earneſtly warn you againſt, is lazineſs; by which more people have loſt the fruit of their travels than (perhaps) by any other thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go and ſee things; and the reſt of the day go and ſee people. If you ſtay but a week at a place, and that an inſignificant one, ſee, however, all that is to be ſeen there; know as many people, and get into as many houſes as ever you can. I recommend to you likewiſe, though probably you have thought of it yourſelf, to carry in your pocket a map of Germany, in which the poſt-roads are marked; and alſo ſome ſhort book of travels through Germany. The former will help to imprint in your memory ſitua- tions and diſtances; and the latter will point out many things for you to ſee, that might otherwiſe poſſibly eſcape you; and which, though they may in themſelves be of little conſequence, you would regret not having ſeen, after having been at the places where they were. Thus warned and provided for your journey, God ſpeed you. Felix fauffumque ſit *! Adieu. w * Happy and propitious be it, 395 LETTER CXLIV. Fºjudicious Conduct of Parents in general... Faulty Educe- tion...Polite Education...Lord Albemarle...Duc de Riche- lieu. **. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, May the 27th. I SEND you the incloſed original, from a friend of ours, with my own commentaries upon the text; a text which I have ſo ofted paraphraſed, and commented upon already, that I believe I can hardly ſay any thing new upon it; but, however, I cannot give it over till I am better convinced than P. yet am, that you feel all the utility, the importance, and the neceſſity of it; nay, not only feel, but pračtiſe it. Your panegyriſt allows you, what moſt fathers would be more than ſatisfied with in a ſon, and chides me for not contenting myſelf with Peſentiellement bon *; but I, who have been in no one reſpect like other fathers, cannot neither, like them, content myſelf with l'eſſentiellement bon, becauſe I know that it will not do your buſineſs in the world, while you want quelques couches de 'vermis #.” Few fathers care much for their ſons, or, at leaſt, moſt of them care more for their money; and conſequently content themſelves with giving them, at the cheapeſt rate, the common run of education; that is, a ſchool till eighteen; the univerſi- ty till twenty; and a couple of years of riding poſt through the ſeveral towns of Europe, impatient till their boobies come home to be married, and, as they call it, ſettled. Of thoſe who really love their fons, few know how to do it. Some ſpoil them by fondling them while they are young, and then. Quarrel with them when they are own up for having been ſpoiled; ſome love them like mothers, and attend only to the bodily health and ſtrength of the hopes of their family, folemniſe his. birth-day, and rejoice, like the ſubjećts of the Great Mogul, at the increaſe of his bulk: while others, mind- ing, as they think, only eſſentials, take pains and plea- füre to ſee in their heir all their favourite weakneſſes and imperfeótions. I hope and believe that I have kept clear } # The eſſentially good. * A coat of varnish. * S 6 396 • Faulty Education...Polite Education. of all theſe errors, in the education which I have given you, No weakneſſes of my own have warped it, no parfimony has ſtarved it, no rigour has deformed it. Sound and extenſive learning was the foundation which I meant to lay; I have laid it; but that alone, I knew, would by no means be ſufficient : the ornamental, the ſhowiſh, the pleafing ſuperſtructure was to be begun. In that view I threw you into the great world, entirely your own maſter, at an age when others either guzzle at the univerſity, or are ſent abroad in ſervitude to ſome awkward, pedantic, Scotch governor. This was to put you in the way, and the only way, of acquiring thoſe manners, that addreſs, and thoſe graces, which excluſively diſtinguiſh people of faſhion; and without which all moral virtues, and all acquired learning, are of no ſort of uſe in courts and the great world. They are, indeed, feared and diſliked in thoſe places, as too ſevere, if not ſmoothed and introduced by the graces. Now, pray let me aſk you, cooly and ſeriouſly, why are you wanting in theſe graces For you may as eaſily aſ fume them, as you may wear more or leſs powder in your hair, more or leſs lace upon your coat. I can, therefore, account for your wanting them no other way in the world than from your not being convinced of their full value. You have heard ſome Engliſh bucks fay, “ Damn theſe finical outlandiſh airs; give me a manly, reſolute manner. They make a rout with their graces, and talk like a parcel of dancing-maſters, and dreſs like a parcel of fops; one good Engliſhman will beat three of them.” Butlet your own obſervation un- deceive you of theſe prejudices. I will give you one inſtance only, inſtead of an hundred that I could give you, of a very ſhining fortune and figure, raiſed upon no other foundation whatſoever than that of addreſs, manners, and graces. Between you and me (for this example muſt go no farther), what do you think made our friend, lord A****e, colonel of a regiment of guards, governor of Virginia, groom of the ſtole, and embaſſador to Paris; amounting in all to ſixteen or feventeen thouſand pounds a year Was it his birth? No; a Dutch gentleman only. Was it his eſtate 2 No, he had none. Was it his learning, his parts, his poli- Leisure Hours... Useless Books, &c. 397 tical abilities and application ? You can anſwer theſe queſtions as eaſily, and as ſoon as I can aſk them. What was it then Many people wondered, but I do not; for I-know, and will tell you. It was his air, his ad- dreſs, his manners, and his graces. . He pleaſed, and by pleaſing became a favourite; and by becoming a favourite, became all that he has been ſince. Show me any one inſtance, where intrinſic worth and merit, un- affiſted by exterior accompliſhments, have raiſed any man ſo high. You know the duc de Richelieu, now maréchal, cordon bleu, gentilhomme de la chambre, twice embaſſador, &c. By what means? Not by the purity of his charaćter, the depth of his knowledge, or any un- common penetration and ſagacity. Women alone formed and raiſed him. The ducheſs of Burgundy took a fancy to him before he was fixteen years old; this put him in faſhion among the beau monde: and the late regent's eldeſt daughter, now madäme de Modene, fell in love with him next, and was near marrying him. Man or woman cannot reſiſt an engaging exterior; it will pleaſe, it will make its way. With your know- ledge and parts, if adorned by manners and graces, what may you not hope one day to be But without them. you will be in the ſituation of a man who ſhould be very fleet of one leg, but very lame of the other. He could not run, the lame leg would check and clog the well one, which would be very near uſeleſs. *mº ºm- LETTER CXLV. Leisure Hours...Useless and frivolous Books... Utility of reading systematically...Short View of the History of Europe from the Treaty of Munster...Caution to avoid Disputes. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, May the 31st. THE world is the book, and the only one to which, at preſent, I would have you apply yourſelf. How- ever, as the moſt tumultuous life, whether of buſineſs or pleaſure, leaves ſome vacant moments every day, in 398 Utility of Reading systematically. which a book is the refuge of a rational being, I mean now to point out to you the method of employing thoſe moments (which will and ought to be-but few) in the moſt advantageous manner. Throw away none of your time upon thoſe trivial, futile books, publiſhed by idle or neceſſitous authors, for the amuſement of idle and ignorant readers: ſuch fort of books ſwarm and buzz about one every day; flap them away, they have no fting. Certum pete finem, have ſome one objećt for thoſe leiſure moments, and purſue that objećt invariably till you have attained it; and then take ſome other. For inſtance, confidering your deſtination, I would adviſe you to fingle out the moſt remarkable and intereſting aeras of modern hiſtory, and confine all your reading to that arra. If you pitch upon the treaty of Münſter, (and that is the proper period to begin with, in the courſe which I am now recommending) do not inter- rupt it by dipping and deviating into other books, un- relative to it: but conſult only the moſt authentic hiſ- tories, letters, memoirs, and negotiations, relative to that great tranſačtion; reading and comparing them, with all that caution and diſtruſt which lord Boling- • broke recommends to you, in a better manner and in better words than I can. The next period, worth your particular knowledge, is the treaty of the Pyrénées; which was calculated to lay, and in effect did lay, the foundation of the ſucceſſion of the houſe of Bourbon to the crown of Spain. Purſue that in the ſame manner, ſingling, out of the millions of volunes written upon that occaſion, the two or three moſt authentic ones, and particularly letters, which are the beſt authorities in matters of negotiation. Next come the treaties of Ni- meguen and Rhyſwick, poſtſcripts in a manner to thoſe of Munſter and the Pyrénées. Thoſe two tranſačtions have had great light thrown upon them by the publi- cation of many authentic and original letters and pieces. The conceſſions made at the treaty of Rhyſwick, by the then triumphant Lewis the XIVth, aſtoniſhed all thoſe who viewed things &nly ſuperficially; but, I ſhould think; muſt have been eaſily accounted for by thoſe who knew the ſtate of the kingdom of Spain, as well as ef the health of its king, Charles the IId at that time. # Short Fiew of the History of Europe. 399 The interval, between the concluſion of the peace of Rhyſwick, and the breaking out of the great war in 1702, though a ſhort, is a moſt intereſting one. Every week of it almoſt produced ſome great event. Two partition treaties, the death of the king of Spain, his unexpe&ted will, and the acceptance of it by Lewis the XIVth, in violation of the ſºcond treaty of partition, juſt figned and ratified by him.—Ruilip the Vth, quietly and cheerfully received in Spain, and acknowledged as king of it, by moſt of thoſe powers, who afterwards joined in an alliance to, dethrone him. I cannot help making this obſervation upon that occaſion,--that cha- raēter has often more to do in great tranſa&tions than prudence and ſound policy: for Lewis the XIVth gra- tified his perſonal pride, by giving a Bourbon king to Spain, at the expenſe of the true intereſt of France; which would have acquired much more ſolid and per- manent ſtrength by the addition of Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine, upon the foot of the ſecond partition treaty; and I think it was fortunate for Europe that he preferred the will. It is true, he might hope to influence his grandſon; but he could never expe&t that his Bourbon poſterity in France ſhould influence his Bourbon poſt- erity in Spain; he knew too well how weak the ties of blood are among men, and how much weaker ſtill they are among princes. The Memoirs of Count Harrach, and of Las Torres, give a good deal of light into the tranſačtions of the court of Spain, previous to the death of that weak king; and the Letters of the Maréchal d'Harcourt, then the French embaſſador in Spain, of which I have authentic copies in manufcript, from the year 1698 to 1701, have cleared up that whole affair to me. I keep that book for you. It appears by thoſe letters, that the imprudent condućt of the houſe of Auſtria, with regard to the king and queen of Spain, and madame Berlips, her favourite, together with the knowledge of the partition treaty, which incenſed all Spain, were the true and only reaſons of the will in favour of the duke of Anjou. Neither cardinal Porto- careero, nor any of the grandees, were bribed by France, as was generally reported and believed at that time; which confirms Voltaire's Anecdote upon that ſubjećt. i 400 Short View of the History of Europe. Then opens a new ſcene and a new century: Lewis the XIVth's good fortune forſakes him, till the duke of Marlborough and prince Eugene make him amends for all the miſchief they had done him, by making the al- lies refuſe the terms of peace offered by him at Ger- truydenberg. How the diſadvantageous peace of Utrecht was afterwards brought on, you have lately read; and you cannot inform yourſelf too minutely of all thoſe circumſtances, that treaty being the freſheſt ſource, whence the late tranſa&tions of Europe have flowed. The alterations which have ſince happened, whether by wars or treaties, are ſo recent, that all the written accounts are to be helped out, proved, or con- tradićted, by the oral ones of almoſt every informed perſon, of a certain age or rank in life. For the fačts, dates, and original pieces of this century, you will find them in Lamberti, till the year 1715, and after that time in Rouſſet’s Recueil. I do not mean that you ſhould plod hours together in reſearches of this kind; no, you may employ your time more uſefully : but I mean, that you ſhould make the moſt of the moments you do employ, by method, and the purſuit of one ſingle objećt at a time; nor ſhould I call it a digreſſion from that objećt, if, when you meet with claſhing and jarring pretenſions of different princes to the ſame thing, you had immediately recourſe to other books, in which thoſe ſeveral pretenſions were clearly ſtated; on the contrary, that is the only way of remembering thoſe conteſted rights and claims: for, were a man to read tout de ſuite, Schwederus's Theatrum Pretenſionum", he would only be confounded by the variety, and remember none of them; whereas, by ex- amining them occaſionally, as they happen to occur, either in the courſe of your hiſtorical reading, or as they are agitated in your own times, you will retain them, by conneéting them with thoſe hiſtorical facts which occaſioned your inquiry. For example, had you read, in the courſe of two or three folios of Pretenſions, thoſe, among others, of the two kings of England and Pruffia to Oſt Friſe, it is impoſſible that you ſhould | * From beginning to end, Schweder's Theatre of Pretensions. Utility ºf Reading systematically. 40 # haye remembered them; but now that they are become the debated objećt at the Diet at Ratiſbon, and the topic of all political converſations, if you conſult both books. and perſons concerning them, and inform yourſelf thoroughly, you will never forget them as long as you live. You will hear a great deal of them on one ſide, at Hanover ; and as much on the other fide, afterwards, at Berlin: hear both fides, and form your own opinion, but diſpute with neither. Letters from foreign miniſters to their courfs, and from their courts to them, are, if genuine, the beſt and moſt authentic records you can read, as far as they go. Cardinal d’Offat's, preſident Jeannin's, D'Eſtrade's, Sir William Temple's, will not only inform your mind, but form your ſtyle; which, in letters of buſineſs, ſhould be very plain and ſimple, but at the ſame time exceed- ingly clear, correót, and pure. * All that I have ſaid may be reduced to theſe two or three plain principles; 1ſt, that you ſhould now read very little, but converſe a great deal: 2dly, to regi no uſeleſs, unprofitable books; and, 3dly, that thoſe which you do read, may all tend to a certain objećt, and be relative to, and conſequential of each other. In this method, half an hour's reading every day will carry you a great way. People ſeldom know how to employ their time to the beſt advantage till they have too little left to employ; but if, at your age, in the beginning of life, people would but conſider the value of it, and put every moment to intereſt, it is incredible what an additional fund of knowledge and pleaſure ſuch an oeconomy would bring in. I look back with regret upon that large ſum of time, which, in my youth, I laviſhed away idly, without either improvement or pleaſure. Take warning betimes, and employ every moment; the longeſt life is too ſhort for knowledge, conſequently every moment is precious. [ 402 j LETTER cxlvi. Court of Berlin...Court of Hanover...Pleasing by little Attentions... Anecdote. MY DEAR rR1ENr., Londºn, June the 23d. I DIRECT this letter to Mayence, where I think it is likely to meet you. Mayence will not, I believe, have charms to detain you above a week; ſo that I reckon you will be at Bonn at the end of July. There you may fray juſt as little or as long as you pleaſe, and then pro- ceed to Hanover. - I had a letter, by the laſt poſt, froſh a relation of mine at Hanover, Mr. Stanhope Aſpinwall, who is in the duke of Newcaſtle's office, and has lately been ap- pointed the king's miniſter to the Dey of Algiers; a poſt which, notwithſtanding your views of foreign affairs, H believe you do not envy him. He tells me, in that letter, there are very good lodgings to be had at one Mrs. Meyers', the next door to the duke of Newcaſtle's, which he offers to take for you : I have deſired him to do it, in caſe Mrs. Meyers will wait for you till the latter end of Auguſt, or the beginning of September, which, I ſuppoſe, is about the time when you will be at Hanover. * As you are entirely maſter of the time when you will leave Bonn and go to Hanover, ſo are you maſter to ſtay at Hanover as long as you pleaſe, and to go thence - where you pleaſe; provided that at Chriſtmas you are at Berlin, for the beginning of the carnival: this I would - not have you ſay at Hanover, conſidering the mutual diſpoſition of thoſe two courts; but, when any body aſks you where you are to go next, ſay that you pro- poſe rambling in Germany till the next ſpring; when you intend to be in Flanders, in your way to England. J take Berlin, at this time, to be the politeſt, the moſt ſhining, and the moſt uſeful court in Europe for a young man to be at: and,therefore I would, upon no account, not have you there, for at leaſt a couple of months of the carnival. If you are as well received, and paſs your time as well at Bonn, as I believe you will, Iywould adviſe you to remain there till about the Pleasing ly little Attentions. 46% 2 oth of Auguſt; in four days more you will be at Ha- nover. As for your ſtay there, it muſt be ſhorter or longer, according to certain circumſtances which you *now of ; ſuppoſing them at the beſt, then ſtay till with- in a week or ten days of the king's return to England; but ſuppoſing them at the worſt, your ſtay muſt net be too ſhort, for reaſons which you alſo know : no reſent- ment muſt either appear or be ſuſpe&ted; therefore, at worſt, I think you muſt remain there a month, and at beſt, as long as ever you pleaſe. But I am convinced that all will turn out very well for you there. Every body is engaged or inclined to help you; the miniſters, both Engliſh and German, the principal ladies, and moſt of the foreign miniſters; ſo that I may apply to you mullum numen abeſ, ſº ſit prudentia. Du Perron will, I believe, be back there from Turin, much about the time you get thither: pray be very attentive to him, and conneét yourſekf with him as much as ever you can : for, beſides that he is a very pretty and well-in- formed man, he is very. much in faſhipn at Hanover, is perſonally very well with the king, and certain ladies; , ſo that a viſible intimacy and connection with him will do you credit and ſervice. Pray cultivate monſieur Hop, the Dutch miniſter, who has always been wery much my friend, and will, I am ſure, be yours: his manners, it is true, are not very engaging; he is rough, but he is ſincere. It is very uſeful ſometimes to ſee the things which one ought to avoid, as it is right to ſee very often thoſe which one ought to imitate; and my friend Hop's manners will frequently point out to you what yours ought to be, by the rule of contraries. Congreve points out a ſort of critics, to whom he ſays that we are doubly obliged; Rules for good writing they with pains indite, Then ſhow us what is bad, by what they write. It is certain that monſieur Hop, with the beſt heart in the world, and a thouſand good qualities, has a thou- ſand enemies, , and hardly a friend; ſingly from the roughneſs of his manners. * I recommend to you again, though I have already done it twice or thrice, to ſpeak German, even affect- edly, while you are at Hanover; which will ſhow that * 40 #. Court of Hanover. you prefer that language, and be of more uſe to you there with ſomebody, than you can imagine. When you carry my letters to nonfieur Münchauſen, and non- fieur Schwiegeldt, addreſs you feif to them in German; the latter ſpeaks French very well, but the former ex- trèmely ill. Show great attention to madame Mün- schauſen’s daughter, who is a great ſavourite; theſe hittle trifles pleaſe mothers, and ſometimes fathers, ex- tremely. Obſerve and you will find, almoſt univerſally, that the leaſt things either pleaſe or diſpleaſe moſt ; be- cauſe they neceſſarily imply, either a very ſtrong deſire of obliging, or an unpardenable indifference about it. I will give you a ridiculous inſtance enough of this truth, from my own experience. When I was embaſ- ſador the firſt time in Holland, comte de Waſſenaer and his wife, people of the firſt rank and confideration, had a little boy of about three years old, of whom they were exceedingly fond : in order to make my court to them, 5 was ſo too, and uſed to take the child often upon my lap, and play with him. One day his noſe was very ſnotty, upon which I took out my handkerchief and wiped it for him; this raiſed a loud laugh, and they called me a very handy nurſe; but the father and mother were ſo pleaſed with it, that to this day it is an anecdote in the family; and I never receive a letter from comte Waſ- ſenaer, but he makes me the compliments du morveux gue j'ai mouché autrefois ; who, by the way, I am aſſured, is now the prettieſt young fellow in Holland. Where º: would gain people, remember that nothing is little. Adieu ! *. * “-ºº ºm - LETTER CXLVII. Court of Hanover... Fatour at Courts... How acquired... _{necdote...Cautions against Garning. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, June the 26th. AS I have reaſon to fear, from your laſt letter of the 18th, from Manheim, that all, or at leaſt moſt of my letters to you, ſince you left Paris, have miſcarried, I think it requiſite, at all events, to repeat in this the Favour at Courts...How acquired. 405 neceſſary parts of thoſe ſeveral letters, as far as they relate to your future motions. i ſuppoſe that this will either find you, or be but a few days before you, at Bonn, where it is direéted ; and I ſuppoſe too, that you kave fixed your time for going thence to Hanover. If things turn out well at Hanover, as in my opinion they will, ſtay there till a week or ten days before the king ſets out for England; but, ſhould they turn out ill, which I cannot imagine, ſtay however a month, that your departure may not ſeem a ſtep of diſcontent or peeviſhneſs; the very ſu- fpicion of which is by all means to be avoided. When- ever you leave Hanover, be it ſooner or later, where would you go? Would you paſs the months of No- vember and December at Brunſwick, Caſſel, &c.— Would you chuſe to go for a couple of ſmonths to Ra- tiſbon, where you would be very well recommended to, and treated by the king's eleētoral miniſter, the baron de Béhr, and where you would improve your jus publi- cum 2 Or would you rather go dire&tly to Berlin, and ſtay there till the end of the carnival Two or three months at Berlin are, confidering all circumſtances, neceſſary for you, and the carnival months are the beſt. Let me only know your decree when you have formed it. Your good or ill ſucceſs at Hanover will have a very great influence upon your ſubſequent chara&ter, figure, and fortune in the world; therefore I confeſs that I am more anxious about it than ever bride was on her wedding-night. It is your firſt criſis: the charaćter which you acquire there will, more or leſs, be that which will abide by you for the reſt of your life. You will be tried and judged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that moment there is no appeal for charaćter: it is fixed. To form that charaćter advan- tageouſly, you have three objećts particularly to attend to . your charaćter as a man of moºlity, truth, and honour; your knowledge in the obječts of your deſti- nation, as a man of buſineſs; and you, engaging and infinuating addreſs, air, and manners, as a courtier; the ſ, re and only ſteps to favour. Merit at courts, without favour, will do little or nothing ; favour, without merit, will do a good deal ; but favour and 406 Favour at Courts...How acquired. tnerit together will do every thing. Favour at courts *lepends upon ſo many, ſuch trifling, ſuch unexpečted, and unforeſeen events, that a good courtier muſt attend to every circumſtance, however little, that either does * or can happea; he muſt have no abſences, no diſłrac- tions ; he muſt not ſay, “I did not mind it; who would have thought it?”. He ought both to have minded, and to have thought it. A chamber-maid has fonetimes cauſed revolutions in courts, which have produced others in kingdoms. Were I to make my way to favour in a court, I would neither wilfully, nor by negligence, give a dog or a cat there reaſon to diſlike me. Two pies-griéches, well inſtrućted, you know, made the fortune of De Luines with Lewis XIII.- Every ſtep a man makes at court requires as much at- tention and circumſpection as thoſe which were made formerly between hot plough-ſhares in the ordeal or fiery trials; which, in thoſe times of ignorance and ſuperſtition, were looked upon as demonſtrations of in- nocence or guilt. Direét your principal battery, at Hanover, at the d– of N ’s : there are many very weak places in that citadel; where, with a very iittle ſkill, you cannot fail making a great impreſſion. Aſk for his orders, in every thing you do ; talk Auſ- trian and Antigallican to him; and, as ſoon as you are impon a foot of talking eaſily to him, tell him, en badi- nant, that his ſkill and ſucceſs in thirty or forty elec- tions in England leave you no reaſon to doubt of his carrying his eleētion for Frankfort; and that you look upon the archduke as his member for the empire. Ha his hours of feſtivity and compotation, drop, that he puts you'in mind of what Sir William Temple ſays of the penſionary de Wit, who at that time governed half Eu- rope, “that he appeared at balls, aſſemblies, and public places, as if he had nothing elſe to do or think of.”— When he talks to you upon foreign affairs, which he will often do, ſay, that you really cannot preſume to give any opinion of your own upon thoſe matters, looking upon yourſelf, at preſent, only as a poſtſcript to the corps diplomatique; but that, if his grace will be pleaſed to make you an additional volume to it, though but in duodecimo, you will do your beſt, that he ſhall *e * , Qualifications of a Courtier. 407 d w neither be aſhamed nor repent of it. He loves to have a favourite, and to open himſelf to that favourite: he has now no ſuch perſon with him ; the place is vacant, and if you have dexterity you may fill it. In one thing alone, do not humour him ; I mean drinking; for as I believe you have never yet been drunk, you do not yourſelf know how you can bear wife, and what a little too much of it finay make you do or ſay : you might , poffibly kick down all you had done before. You do not love gaming, and I thank GoD for it; but at Hanover I would have you ſhow and profeſs a particular diſlike to play, ſo as to decline it upon all occaſions, unleſs where one may be wanted to make a fourth at whiſt or tºuadrille; and then take care to de- clare it the reſult of your complaiſance, not of your inclinations. Without, ſuch precaution you may very poſſibly be ſuſpećted, though unjuſtly, of loving play, upon account of my former paſſion for it; and ſuch a ſuſpicion would do you a great deal of hurt, eſpecially with the king, who deteſts gaming. I muſt end this abruptly.—God bleſs you. . *-ºſ : ºne-- LETTER CXLVIII. qualifications of a Courtier...Cautions against Drinking... Ilanover...Court of Brunswick...George the Second. * MY DEAR re. I END, VERSATILITY as a courtier may be almoſt deciſive to you hereafter; that is, it may conduce to or retard your preferment in your own deſtination. The firſt reputation goes a great way ; and, if you fix a good one at Hanover, it will operate alſo to your advantage in England. The trade of a courtier is as much a trade as that of a ſhoemaker; and he who applies him- ſelf the moſt, will work the beſt: the only difficulty is to diſtinguiſh (what I am ſure you have ſenſe enough to diſtinguiſh) between the right and proper qualifica- tions, and their kindred faults; for there is but a line between every perfeótion and its neighbouring imper- fećtion. As, for example, you muſt be extremely well- # * : * #. 468 Cautions against Drinking. bred and polite, but without the troubleſome forms *. ſtiffneſs of ceremony. You muſt be reſpectful and #" affenting, but without being ſervile and abjećt. You muſt be frank, but without indiſcretion; and cloſe, without being coſtive. You muſt keep up dignity of charaćter, without the leaſt pride of birth or rank.-- You muſt be gay, within all the bounds of decency and reſpect; and grave, without the affe &ation of wiſ- dom, which does not become the age of twenty. You muſt be eſſentially ſecret, without being dark and myſ- terious. You muſt be firm, but with modeſty. With theſe qualifications, which, by the way, are all in your own power, I will anſwer for your ſucceſs, not only at Hanover but at any court in Europe. And I am not ſorry that you begin your apprenticeſhip at a little one; becauſe you muſt be more circumſpect, and more upon your guard there, than at a great one where every little thing is not known nor reported. When you write to me, or to any body elſe, take care that your letters contain commendations of all you ſee and hear there, for they will moſt of them be opened and read; but, as frequent couriers will come from Hanover to England, you may ſometimes write to me without reſerve; and put your letters into a very little box, which you may Fº ſafely by ſome of them. I muſt not omit mentioning to you, that, at the duke of Newcaſtle's table, where you will frequently dine, there is a great deal of drinking; be upon your guard againſt it, both upon account of your health, which would not bear it, and of the conſequences of your being fluſtered and heated with wine : it might engage you in ſcrapes and frolics, which the king (who is a very ſober man himſelf) deteſts. On the other hand, you ſhould not ſeem too grave and too wiſe to drink like the reſt of the company; therefore mix water with your wine; do not drink all that is in the glaſs; and if detected, and preſſed to drink more, do not cry out fobriety; but ſay, that you muſt beg to be excuſed for the preſent. A young follow ought to be wifer than he ſhould ſeem to be; and an old fellow ought to ſeem wiſe, whether he really be ſo or not. Čourt of Brunswick...George the Second. 409 IDuring your ſtay at Hanover, I would have you make two or three excurſions to parts of that eleētorate to Hartz, where the ſilver mines are ; Gottingen, for’ the univerſity; Stade, for what commerce there is.- You ſhould alſo go to Zell. In ſhort, ſee every thing that is to be ſeen there, and inform yourſelf well of all the details of that country. Go to Hamburgh for three or four days, know the conſtitution of that little Han- ſeatic republic, and inform yourſelf well of the nature of the king of Denmark’s pretenſions to it. If all things turn out right for you at Hanover, I would have you make it your head quarters till about a week er ten days before the king leaves it; and then go to Brunſwick, which, though a little, is a very po- fite pretty court. You may ſtay there a fortnight or three weeks, as you like it: and thence go to Caſſel, and there ſtay till you go to Berlin, where I would have you be by Chriſtmas. At Hanover you will very eaſily get good letters of recommendation to Brunſwick and to Caſſel. You do not want any to Berlin; however I will ſend you one for Voltaire. A-propos of Berlin; be very reſerved and cautious, while at Hanover, as to that king and that country; both which are deteſted, becauſe feared by every body there, from his majeſty down to the meaneſt peaſant: but, however, they both extremely deſerve your utmoſt attention, and you will ſee the arts and wiſdom of government better in that coun- try, now, than in any other in Europe. You may ſtay three months at Berlin, if you like it, as I believe you will; and after that I hope we ſhall meet here again. Of all the places in the world (I repeat it once more) eſtabliſh a good reputation at Hanover. Indeed it is of the greateſt importance to you, and will make any future application to the king in your behalf very eaſy. He is more taken by the manners, grace, and other little things, than any man, or even woman, that I ever knew in my life; and I do not wonder at him.— In ſhort, exert to the utmoſt all your means and powers to pleaſe; and remember, that he who pleaſes the moſt will riſe the ſooneſt, and the higheſt. Try but once the pleaſure and advantage of pleaſing, and I will an- {wer that you will never more hegle&t the means. * 410 George the Second...Duke of Newcastle. I ſend you herewith two letters, the one to monſieur iſ Münchauſen, the other to monſieur Schwiegeldt, an old friend of mine, and a very ſenſible knowing nian. They will both, I am ſure, be extremely civil to you, and carry you into the beſt company; and then it is your buſineſs to pleaſe that company. I never was more anxious about any period of your life, than I am about this your Hanover expedition, it being of ſo much more conſequence to you than any other. If I hear that you are liked and loved there, for your air, your manners, and addreſs, as well as eſteemed for your knowledge, I ſhall be the happieſt man in the world; judge then what I muſt be if it happens other- wfe. Adieu ! -ºn-ºr- LETTER CXLIX. George the Second...Duke of Newcastle...Author’s Account of himself...Wit...Gentleness and Complaisance more powerful Recommendations. MY DEAR FRIEND, - London, July the 21ſt. BY my calculation, this letter may probably arrive at Hanover three or four days before you. By what you have already ſeen of the German courts, I am ſure you muſt have obſerved that they are much more nice and forupulous, in points of ceremony, reſpećt, and atten- tion, than the greater courts of France and England. You will º I am perſuaded, attend to the mi- nuteſt circumſtances of addreſs and behaviour. No- body in the world is more exačt in all points of good- breeding than the king; and it is the part of every man’s charaćter that he informs himſelf of firſt. The leaſt negligence, or the ſlighteſt inattention, reported to him, may do you infinite prejudice; as their con- traries would ſervice. - If lord Albemarle (as I believe he did) truſted you with the ſecret affairs of his department, let the duke of Newcaſtle know that he did ſo; which will be an inducement to him to truſt you too, and poſſibly to …” Afuthor's Account of Himself. 4. I [. employ you in affairs of conſequence. Tell him that, though you are young, you know the importance & . ſecrecy in buſineſs, and can keep a ſecret; that I have * always inculcated this doćtrine into you, and have moreover ſtrićtly forbidden you ever to communicate, even to me, any matters of a ſecret nature which you may happen to be truſted with in the courſe of bu- ſineſs. - * - . As for buſineſs, I think I can truſt you to yourſelf; but I wiſh I could ſay as much for you with regard to thoſe exterior accompliſhments, which are abſolutely neceſſary to ſmooth and ſhorten the way to it. I will let you into one ſecret concerning myſelf; which is, that I owe much more of the ſucceſs which I have had in the world to my manners, than to any ſuperior de- gree of merit or knowledge. I deſired to pleaſe, and I negle&ted none of the means. This I can aſſure you, without any falſe modeſty, is the truth. You have more knowledge than I had at your age, but then I had much more attention and good-breeding than you.- Call it vanity, if you pleaſe, and poſſibly it was ſo; but my great objećt was to make every man I met with reſpect me, and every woman like me. I often ſuc- ceeded: but why? By taking great pains; for otherwiſe . . I never ſhould; my figure by no means entitled me to it, and I had certainly an up-hill game: whereas your countenance would help you, if you made the moſt of it, and proſcribed for ever the guilty, gloomy, and fu- nereal part of it. If you have time to read at Hanover, pray let the books you réad be all relative to the hiſtory and conſti- tution of that country, which I would have you know as correótly as any Hanoverian in the whole eleētorate. Inform yourſelf of the powers of the ſtates, and of the nature and extent of the ſeveral judicatures; the par- ticular articles of trade and commerce of Bremen, Harburg, and Stade; the details and value of the mines of the Hartz. Two or three ſhort books will give you the outlines of all theſe things; and converſation, turned upon thoſe ſubjećts, will do the reſt, and better than books can, T 2 - 2. 412 pf/ºt. As I love to provide eventually for everything that ean poſſibly happen, I will ſuppoſe the worſt that can befali you at Hanover. . In that caſe, I would have you go immediately to the duke of Newcaſtle, and beg his grace's advice, or rather orders, what you ſhould do ; adding, that his advice will always be orders to you. You will tell him, that, though you are exceedingly mortified, you are much leſs ſo than you ſhould other- wiſe be, from the conſideration, that, being utterly un- known to his M–, his objećtion could not be per- fonal to you, and could only ariſe from circum- ftances which it was not in your power either to prevent or remedy: that if his grace thought that your conti- nuing any longer there would be diſagreeable, you en- treated him to tell you ſo; and that, upon the whole, you referred yourſelf entirely to him, whoſe orders you ſhould moſt ſcrupulouſly obey. But this precaution, I. dare ſay, will prove unneceſſary; however, it is always right to be prepared for all events, the worſt as well as the beſt; it prevents hurry and ſurpriſe, two danger- ous fituations in buſineſs: for I know no one thing ſo uſeful, ſo neceſſary in all buſineſs, as great coolneſs and ſteadineſs; they give an incredible advantage over whomever one has to do with. I wrote, above a month ago, to lord Albemarle, to thank him for all his kindneſſes to you ; but pray have you done as much Thoſe are the neceſſary attentions which ſhould never be omitted, eſpecially in the be- ginning of life when a charaćter is to be eſtabliſhed. That ready wit which you ſo partially allow me, and ſo juſtly Sir Charles Williams, may create many ad- mirers, but, take my word for it, it makes few friends. . It ſhines and dazzles like the noon-day ſun, but, like that too, is, very apt to ſcorch, and therefore is always feared. The milder morning and evening fight and heat of that planet ſooth and calm our minds.— . Good ſenſe, complaiſance, gentleneſs of manners, at- tentions, and graces, are the only things that truly en- gage and durably keep the heart at long run. Never feek for wit; if it prefents itſelf, well and good; but, even in that cafe, let your judgment interpoſe; and Negotiations at Hanover, &e. 4. tº take care that it be not at the expence of any body.— Pope ſays, very truly, There are whom Heaven has bleſt with ſtore of wit, Yet want as much again to govern it. ...- And in another place, I doubt with too much truth, 4. For wit and judgment ever are at ſtrife, Though meant each other’s aid, like man and wife. e The Germans are very ſeldom troubled with any ex- traordinary ebullitions or efferveſcences of wit, and it is not prudent to try it upon them; whoever does, offendet ſolido”. Remember to write me very minute accounts of all your tranſačtions at Hanover, for they excite both my impatience and anxiety. Adieu º LETTER CL. s Negotiations at Hanover...Election of King of the Romans... Weakness of the House of ‘....}. Qf the dif- jerent Parties. MY DEAR FRIEND, - London, Auguſt the 4th, HAN OVER, where I take it for granted you are, is at preſent the ſeat and centre of foreign negotiations; . there are miniſters from almoſt every court in Europe; and you have a fine opportunity of diſplaying with mo-. deity, in converſation, your knowledge of the matters. now in agitation. The chief I take to be the eleētion of the king of the Romans, which, though I deſpair of, I heartily wiſh was brought about, for two reaſons. The firſt is, that I think it may prevent a war upon the death of the preſent emperor, who, though young and healthy, may poſſibly die, as young and healthy people often do. The other is the very reaſon that makes ſome powers oppoſe it, and others diſlike it who do not openly oppoſe it; I mean, that it may tend to make the imperial dignity, hereditary in the houſe of Auſtria; which I heartily wiſh, together with a very great increaſe of power in the empire; till when, Ger- # Will ſtrike againſt a ſolid maſs, T 3 #14, Weakness of the House of Austria. many will never be any thing near a match for France. Cardinal Richelieu ſhowed his ſuperior abilities in no- thing more than in thinking no pains nor expence too great to break the power of the houſe of Auſtria in the empire. Ferdinand had certainly made himſelf abſo- lute, and the empire conſequently formidable to France, if that cardinal had not piouſly adopted the Proteſtant cauſe, and put the empire, by the treaty of Weſtphalia, in pretty much the ſame diſ-jointed ſituation in which France itſelf was before Lewis the XIth, when princes of the blood at the head of provinces, and dukes of Britanny, &c. always oppoſed, and often gave laws to the crown. Nothing but making the empire hereditary in the houſe of Auſtria can give it that ſtrength and efficiency which I wiſh it had, for the ſake of the balance of power. For while the princes of the empire are ſo in- dependent of the emperor, ſo divided among them- ſelves, and ſo open to the corruption of the beſt bid- ders, it is ridiculous to expe&t that Germany ever will or can ačt as a compačt and well-united body againſt France. But as this notion of mine would as little pleaſe ſome of our friends, as many of our enemies, I would not adviſe you, though you ſhould be of the ſame opinion, to declare yourſelf too freely ſo. Could * the eleētor palatine be ſatisfied, which I confeſs will be difficult, confidering the nature of his pretenſions, the tenaciouſneſs and haughtineſs of the court of Vienna, and our inability to do, as we have too often done, their work for them; I ſay, if the elector palatine could be engaged to give his vote, I ſhould think it would be right to proceed to the eleētion with a clear majority of five votes; and leave the king of Pruſſia, and the elec- tor of Cologne, to proteſt and remonſtrate as much as ever they pleaſe. The former is too wiſe, and the lat- ter too weak, in every reſpect, to act in conſequence of thoſe proteſts. The diſtraćted fituation of France, with its eccleſiaſtical and parliamentary quarrels, not to mention the illneſs and poſſibly the death of the dauphin, will make the king of Pruſſia, who is cer- tainly no Frenchman in his heart, very cautious how he aëts as one. The eleētor of Saxony will be influ- enced by the king of Poland, who muſt be determined Aſanners of different Countries. 4 15 by Russia, confidering his views upon Poland, which, by the bye, I hope he will never obtain; I mean, as to making that crown hereditary in his family. As for his ſon’s having it by the precarious tenure of eleētion, by which his father now holds it, & la bonne heure. But ſhould Poland have a good government under heredi- tary kings, there would be a new devil raiſed in Europe, that I do not know who could lay : I am ſure I would not raiſe him, though on my own ſide for the preſent. I do not know how I came to trouble my head ſo much about politics to-day, which has been ſo very free from them for ſome years; I ſuppoſe it was be- cauſe I knew that I was writing to the moſt conſum- mate politician of this, and his age. If I err, you will ſet me right; ſº quid noviſii rectius iſłis, candidus imperti, &c. * I am exceſſively impatient for your next letter, which I expect by the firſt poſt from Hanover, to remove my anxiety, as I hope it will, not only with regard to your health, but likewiſe to other things; in the mean time, in the language of a pedant, but with the tenderneſs of a parent, jubeo te bene valere f. - * - -ºº ºm- LETTER CLI. Manners of different Countries...Absurdity of drinking -- Healths...Fashionable Manners. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, September the 22d. THE day after the date of my laſt, I received your letter of the 8th. I approve extremely of your in- tended progreſs, and am very glad that you go to the Göhr with comte Schullemburg. I would have you ſee every thing with your own eyes, and hear every thing with your own ears; for I know, by very long experi- ence, that it is very unſafe to truſt to other people’s.- Vanity and intereſt cauſe many miſrepreſentations, and folly cauſes many more. Few people have parts enough to relate exactly and judiciouſly; and thoſe who have, } 8 * If you know better, candidly impart your knowledge. + I command you to be well. T 4 416 Absurdity of drinking Healths. forme circumſtances. - The reception which you have met with at Hanover, I look upon as an omen of your being well received every where elſe; for, to tell you the truth, it was the place that I diſtruſted the moſt in that particular. But there is a certain condućt, there are certain manners that will and muſt get the better of all difficulties of that kind; it is to acquire them that you ſtill continue abroad, and go from court to court : they are perſonal, local, and temporal; they are modes which vary, and owe their exiſtence to accidents, whim, and humour; all the ſenſe and reaſon in the world would never point them out; nothing but experience, obſervation, and what is called knowledge of the world, can poſſibly teach them, For example, it is reſpectful to bow to the king of England; it is diſreſpectful to bow to the king of France; it is the rule to courteſy to the empe- ror; and the proſtration of the whole body is required by eaſtern monarchs. Theſe are eſtabliſhed ceremonies, . and muſt be complied with; but why they were eſta- bliſhed, I defy ſenſe and reaſon to tell us. It is the ſame among all ranks, where certain cuſtoms are re- ceived, and muſt neceſſarily be complied with, though by no means the reſult of ſenſe and reaſon. As for in- ſtance, the very abſurd, though almoſt univerſal cuſtom of drinking people's healths. Can there be any thing in the world leſs relative to any other man’s health than my drinking a glaſs of wine P Common ſenſe, , certainly, never pointed it out; but yet common ſenſe tells me I muſt conform to it. Good ſenſe bids one be. civil, and endeavour to pleaſe; though nothing but ex- perience and obſervation can teach one the means pro- perly adapted to time, place, and perſons. This know- ledge is the true objećt of a gentleman's travelling, if he travels as he ought to do. By frequenting good company in every country, he himſelf becomes of every country; he is no longer an Engliſhman, a Frenchman, or an Italian, but he is an European: he adopts, reſpect- ively, the beſt manners of every country; and is a Frenchman at Paris, an Italian at Rome, an Engliſh- man at London. for ſome reaſon or other, never fail to ſink or to add Fashionable Manners. 4, 17 This advantage, I muſt confeſs, very ſeldom accrues to my countrymen from their travelling; as they have neither the deſire nor the means of getting into good company abroad ; for, in the firſt place, they are con- foundedly baſhful; and, in the next place, they either ſpeak no foreign language at all, or, if they do, it is barbarouſly. You poſſeſs all the advantages that they want; you know the languages in perfeótion, and have conſtantly kept the beſt company in the places where you have been ; ſo that you ought to be an European. Your canvas is ſolid and ſtrong, your outlines are good; but remember, that you ſtill want the beautiful colour- ing of Titian, and the delicate graceful touches of Guido. Now is your time to get them. There is, in all good company, a faſhionable air, countenance, manner, and phraſeology, which can only be acquired by being in good company, and very attentive- to all that paſſes there. When you dine or ſup at any well-bred man's houſe, obſerve carefully how he does the honours of his table to the different gueſts. Attend to the compli- ments of congratulation, or condolence, that you hear a well-bred man make to his ſuperiors, to his equals, and to his inferiors; watch even his countenance and his tone of voice, for they all conſpire in the main point of pleaſing. There is a certain diſtinguiſhing dićtion of a man of faſhion: he will not content him- {elf with ſaying, like John Trott, to a new-married man, “Sir, I wiſh you much joy;” or to a man who has loſt his ſon, “Sir, I am ſorry for your loſs;” and both with a countenance equally unmoved : but he will ſay in effect the fame thing in a more elegant and leſs trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to the occaſion. He will advance with warmth, vivacity, and a cheerful countenance, to the new-married man, and, embracing him, perhaps ſay to him, “If you do “juſtice to my attachment to you, you will judge of the “joy that I feel upon this occaſion, better than I can “expreſs it,” &c. To the other in afflićtion he will ad- vance ſlowly, with a grave compoſure of countenance, in a more deliberate manuer, and with a lower voice perhaps ſay, “I hope you do me, the juſtice to be con- “vinced that I feel whatever you feel, and ſhall ever “be affected where you are concerned.” T 5 [ 418 J LETTER CLII. Court of Berlin...Poltaire...Epic Poetry...Homer...Pirgil... Milton...Tasso...Charles XII... Heroes. MY DEAR FRIEND, Bath, Oétober the 4th. I CONSIDER you now as at the court of Auguſtus, where, if ever the deſire of pleaſing animated you, it muſt make you exert all the means of doing it. You will ſee there, full as well, I dare ſay, as Horace did at Rome, how ſtates are defended by arms, adorned by man- ners, and improved by laws. Nay, you have an Ho- race there, as well as an Auguſtus; I have lately read over all his works that are publiſhed, though I had read. them more than once before. I was induced to this by his Siècle de Louis XIV. You are ſo ſevere a claſſic, that I queſtion whether you will allow me to call his Henriade an epic poem, for want of the proper number of gods, devils, witches, and other abſurdities requiſite for the machinery: which machinery is (it ſeems) neceſſary to conſtitute the Epopée. But whether you do or not, I will declare (though poſſibly to my own ſhame) that I never read any epic poem with near ſo much pleaſure. I am grown old, and have poſſibly loſt a great deal of that fire which formerly made me love fire in others at any rate, and however attended with ſmoke: but now I muſt have all ſenſe, and cannot, for the ſake of five righteous lines, forgive a thouſand abſurd ones. In this diſpoſition of mind, judge whether I can read all Homer through. I admire his beauties; but, to tell you the truth, when he ſlumbers I ſleep. , Virgil, I con- feſs, is all ſenſe, and therefore I like him better than his model; but he is often languid, eſpecially in his five or fix laſt books, during which I am obliged to take a good deal of ſnuff. Beſides, I profeſs myſelf an ally of Tur- nus, againſt the pious AEneas, who, like many ſoi-di- fant * pious people, does the moſt flagrant injuſtice and violence, in order to execute what they impudently call the will of heaven. But what will you ſay, when I tell you truly, that I cannot poſſibly read our countryman Milton through I acknowledge him to have ſome m * Self-named, - Charles XII...H eroes. 41 9 ſublime paſſages,ſome prodigious flaſhes of light; but then you muſt acknowledge, that light is often followed by darkneſs viſible, to uſe his own expreſſion. Befides, not having the honour to be acquainted with any of the parties in his poem, except the man and the woman, the charaćters and ſpeeches of a dozen or two of angels, and of as many devils, are as much above my reach as my entertainment. Keep this ſecret for me; for if it ſhould be known, I ſhould be abuſed by every taſteleſs pedant in England. Whatever I have ſaid to the diſ- advantage of theſe three poems, holds much ſtronger - againſt Taſſo's Gieruſalemme: it is true he has very fine and glaring rays of poetry; but then they are only me- teors; they dazzle, then diſappear; and are ſucceeded by falſe thoughts, poor concerti, and abſurd impoſſibilities: witneſs the fiſh and the parrot ; extravagances unwor- thy of an heroic poem, and would much better have be- come Arioſto. - - - - I have never read the Lufiad of Camoens, except ini. a proſe tranſlation, conſequently I have never read it at all, ſo ſhall ſay nothing of it; but the Henriade is all ſenſe from the beginning to the end. What hero ever intereſted more than Henry the Fourth, who, according to the rules of epic poetry, carries on one great and long aćtion, and ſucceeds in it at laſt.” What deſcription ever excited more horror than thoſe, firſt of the maſſa- cre, and then of the famine, at Paris Was love ever painted with more truth and morbidezza than in the ninth book 2 Not better, in my mind, even in the fourth of Virgil. Upon the whole, with all your claſſical ri- gour, if you will but ſuppoſe St. Louis a god, a devil, or a witch, and that he appears in perſon, and not in a dream, the Henriade will be an epić poem, according to the ſtrióteſt ftatute laws of the Epopée; but in my court of equity it is one as it is. • . I could expatiate as much upon all his different works, but that I ſhould exceed the bounds of a letter, and run into a diſſertation. How delightful is his hiſ- tory of that northern brute, the king of Sweden for I cannot call him a man ; and I ſhould be ſorry to have him paſs for a hero, out of regard to thoſe true heroes ;. ſuch as Julius Caeſar, Titus, Trajan, and the preſent * - T 6. t - - . 420 Popular Monarchs. king of Pruſſia; who cultivated and encouraged arts and ſciences; whoſe animal courage was accompanied by the tender and ſocial ſentinents of humanity; and who had more pleaſure in improving, than in deſtroy- ing their fellow-creatures. - Good-night to you, child ! for I am going to bed, Juſt at the hour at which I ſuppoſe you are beginning to live at Berlin. - - -ºº ºmen- LETTER CLIII. Popular Monarchs... Art of Pleasing...Impediments to it in the Young...Pride... Inattention...Bashfulness...Duke of Ormond...Duke of Marlborough...Advice to associate with Superiors in Age and Rank. MY DEAR FR1END, Bath, November the 11th. IT is a very old and very true maxim, that thoſe kings reign the moſt ſecure, and the moſt abſolute, who reign in the hearts of their people. Their popularity is a bet- ter guard than their army; and the affections of their fubjećts a better pledge of their obedience than their fears. This rule is, in proportion, full as true, though upon a different ſcale, with regard to private people. A man who poſſeſſes that great art of pleaſing univerſally, and of gaining the affections of thoſe with whom he con- verſes, poſſeſſes a ſtrength which nothing elſe can give him: a ſtrength, which facilitates and helps his riſe; and which, in caſe of accidents, breaks his fall. Few people of your age ſufficiently confider this great point of popularity; and, when they grow older and wiſer, ſtrive in vain to recover what they loſt by their negli. gence. There are three principal cauſes that hinder them from acquiring this uſeful ſtrength ; pride, inat- tention, and mauvaiſe honte. The firſt, I will not, I cannot ſuſpect you of ; it is too much below your un- derſtanding. You cannot, and I am ſure you do not, think yourſelf ſuperior by nature to the Savoyard who cleans your room or the footman who cleans your ſhoes; but you may rejoice, and with reaſon, at the difference that Providence has made in your favour. Enjoy all thoſe advantages; but without inſulting thoſe who are unfortunate enough to want them, or even i Art of Pleasing...Impediments to it in Youth. 421 doing ańy thing unneceſſarily that may remind them of that want. For my own part, I am more upon my guard as to my behaviour to my ſervants, and others who are called my inferiors, than I am towards my equals; for fear of being ſuſpećted of that mean and ungenerous ſentiment, of deſiring to make others feel that difference which fortune has, and perhaps, too, un- deſervedly, made between us. Young people do not enough attend to this; but falſely imagine that the im- perative mood, and a rough tone of authority and de- ciſion, are indications of ſpirit and courage. Inat- tention is always looked upon, though ſometimes un- juſtly, as the effečt of pride and contempt; and where it is thought ſo, is never forgiven. In this ar- ticle, young people are generally exceedingly to blame, and offend extremely. Their whole attention is en- groſſed by their particular ſet of acquaintance, and by iſome few glaring and exalted objećts of rank, beauty, or parts: all the reſt they think ſo little worth their care, that they neglect even common civility towards them. I will frankly confeſs to you, that this was one of my great faults when I was of your age. Very at- tentive to pleaſe that narrow court circle in which I ſtood enchanted, I conſidered every thing elſe as bour- geois, and unworthy of common civility; I paid my court affiduouſly and ſkilfully enough to ſhining and diſtinguiſhed figures, ſuch as miniſters, wits, and beau- ties; but then I moſt abſurdly and imprudently neg- lećted, and conſequently offended all others. By this folly I made myſelf a thouſand enemies of both ſexes; who, though I thought them very inſignificant, found means to hurt me eſſentially, whefe I wanted to recommend myſelf the moſt. I was thought proud, though I was only imprudent. A general eaſy civility and attention to the common run of ugly women, and of middling men, both which I fillily thought, called, and treated as odd people, would have made me as many friends as, by the contrary condućt, I made my- felf enemies. All this too was a pure perte; for I might equally, and even more ſucceſsfully, have made my court where I had particular views to gratify. I will allow that this taſk is often very unpleaſant, and that -422 Inattention...Bashfulness. one pays, with ſome unwillingneſs, that tribute of at- tention to dull and tedious men, and to old and ugly women ; but it is the loweſt price of popularity and ge- neral applauſe, which are very well worth purchaſing, were they much dearer. I conclude this head with this advice to you : gain, by particular aſſiduity and addreſs, the men and women you want ; and, by an univerſal civility and attention, pleaſe every body ſo far as to have their good word, if not their good will; or, at leaſt, as to ſecure a partial neutrality. • . Mauvaiſe honte not only hinders young people from making a great many friends, but makes them a great many enemies. They are aſhamed of doing the thing that they know to be right, and would otherwiſe do, for fear of the momentary laugh of ſome fine gentle- man or lady, I have been in this caſe, and have often wiſhed an obſcure acquaintance at the d–l, for meet- ing and taking notice of me, when I was in what I thought and called fine company. I have returned their notice ſhily, awkwardly, and conſequently of. fenſively, for fear of a momentary joke; not conſi- dering, as I ought to have done, that the very peo- ple who would have joked upon me at firſt, would have eſteemed me the more for it afterwards. An example explains a rule beſt: ſuppoſe you were walking in the Tuilleries with ſome fine folks, and that you ſhould un- expectedly meet your old acquaintance, little crooked Grierſon; what would you do I will tell you what you ſhould do, by telling you what I would now do in that caſe myſelf. I would run up to him, and embrace him; ſay ſome kind things to him, and then re- turn to my company. There I ſhould be immedi- ately aſked: Mais qu’eſt ce que c’eſ; done que ce petit ſa- pajou que vous avez embraſſé ſi tendrement 3 Pour cela l'accolade a âté charmante*: with a great deal more feſti- vity of that ſort. To this I ſhould anſwer, without being the leaſt aſhamed, but en badinant : O! je ne vous dirai pas qui c'eſt; c'eſt un petit ami que je fiens incognito, qui a ſon merite, et qui, a force d’étre connu, fait outlier ſaf- * Who is that little monkey that you have been embracing ſo tenderly The reception was charming, Art of Plasing. ..Pride, 423 gure. Que me domnérez-vous, et je vous le preſenterai : * And then, with a little more ſeriouſneſs, I would add, Mais d'ailleurs c'eſt que je ne déſavoue jamais mes con- noiſſances, a cauſe de leur état ou de leur figure. Il faut avoir bien peu de ſentiments pour le faire f. This would at once put an end to that momentary pleaſantry, and give them all a better opinion of me than they had be- fore. Purſue ſteadily, in a word, and without fear or ſhame, whatever your reaſon tells you is right, and what you ſee is pračtiſed by people of more experience than yourſelf, and of eſtabliſhed charaćters of good fenſe and good-breeding. . -- After all this, perhaps you will ſay that it is im- poſſible to pleaſe every body. I grant it: but it does not follow that one ſhould not therefore endeavour to pleaſe as many as one can. Nay, I will go farther, and admit that it is impoſſible for any man not to have ſome enemies. But this truth, from long experience,’ I aſſert, that he who has the moſt friends, and the feweſt enemies, is the ſtrongeſt ; will riſe the higheſt with the leaſt envy ; and fall, if he does fall, the gen- tleſt, and the moſt pitied. This is ſurely an objećt worth purſuing. Purſue it according to the rules I have here given you. I will add one obſervation more, and two examples to enforce it ; and then, as the par- ſons ſay, conclude. There i no one creature ſo obſcure, ſo low, or ſo poor, who may not, by the ſtrange and unaccountable changes and viciſſitudes of human affairs, ſomehow or other, and ſome time or other, become an uſeful friend, or a troubleſome enemy, to the greateſt and the richeſt. =The late duke of Ormond was almoſt the weakeſt, but, at the ſame time, the beſt bred, and the moſt po- pular man in this kingdom. His education in courts and camps, joined to an eaſy, gentle nature, had given him that habitual affability, thoſe engaging manners, * In pleaſantry: O ! I won’t tell you who he is; he is a little private friend of mine, who has great merit, which, when known, would make you forget his appearance. What will you give me if I introduce him to you ? - * f But I muſt tell you, that I never diſavow my acquaintances, either on account of their ſituation or appearance : a man muſt have no feutiluent to do it. . - - - 424 Duke of Ormond...Duke of Marlborough. and thoſe mechanical attentions, that almoſt ſupplied the place of every talent he wanted,—and he wanted almoſt every one. They procured him the love of all men, without the eſteem of any. He was impeached after the death of queen Anne, only becauſe that, hav- ing been engaged in the ſame meaſures with thoſe who were neceſſarily to be impeached, his impeachment, for form’s ſake, became neceſſary. But he was impeached without acrimony, and without the leaſt intention that he ſhould ſuffer, notwithſtanding the party violence of thoſe times. The queſtion for his impeachment, in the houſe of commons, was carried by many fewer votes than any other queſtion of impeachment; and earl Stanhope, then Mr. Stanhope, and ſecretary of ſtate, who impeached him, very ſoon after negotiated and concluded his accommodation with the late king, to whom he was to have been preſented the next day. But the late biſhop of Rocheſter, Atterbury, who thought that the Jacobite cauſe might ſuffer by loſing the duke of Ormond, went in all haſte, and prevailed with the poor weak man to run away, aſſuring him, that he was only to be gulled into a diſgraceful ſubmiſ- fion, and not to be pardoned in conſequence of it. When his ſubſequent attainder paſſed, it excited mobs and diſturbances in town. He had not a perſonal enemy in the world, and had a thouſand friends. All this was fingly owing to his natural deſire of pleaſing, and to the mechanical means that his education, not his parts, had given him of doing it.—The other in- ſtance is the late duke of Marlborough, who ſtudied the art of pleaſing, becauſe he well knew the importance of it: he enjoyed and uſed it more than ever man did. He gained whoever he had a mind to gain ; and he had a mind to gain every body, becauſe he knew that every body was more or leſs worth gaining. Though his power, as miniſter and general, made him many poli- tical and party enemies, it did not make him one per- fonal one; and the very people who would gladly have diſplaced, diſgraced, and perhaps attainted the duke of Marlborough, at the ſame time perſonally loved Mr. Churchill, even though his private charaćter was ble- miſhed by ſordid avarice, the moſt unamiable of all Poltaire's History of the Crusades, &c. 425 vices. He had wound up and turned his whole ma- chine to pleaſe and engage. He had an inimitable ſweetneſs and gentleneſs in his countenance, a tender- neſs in his manner of ſpeaking, a graceful dignity in every motion, and an univerſal and minute attention to the leaſt things that could poſſibly pleaſe the leaſt per; ſon. This was all art in him; art, of which he well knew and enjoyed the advantages; for no man ever #: more interior ambition, pride, and avarice, than e had. - - -mºme- 1.ETTER CLIV. Poltaire's History of the Crusades, and of the Human Mind... Micromégas... Madmen and Knaves...Popes... . The New Year. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, New-Year's Day. I HAVE lately read, with great pleaſure, Voltaire's two little Hiſtories of les Croiſades, and l’Eſprit Humain; which I recommend to your peruſal, if you have not already read them. They are bound up with a moſt poor performance, called Micromégas, which is ſaid to be Voltaire's too; but I cannot believe it, it is ſo very unworthy of him : it conſiſts only of thoughts ſtolen from Swift, but miferably mangled and disfigured. But his hiſtºry of the Croiſades ſhows, in a very ſhort and ſtrong light, the moſt immoral and wicked ſcheme, that was ever contrived by knaves, and executed by madmen and fools, againſt humanity. There is a ſtrange, but never-failing relation, between honeſt madmen and ſkilful knaves; and wherever one meets with colle&ted numbers of the former, one may be very ſure that they are ſecretly direéted by the latter. The popes, who have generally been both the ableſt and the greateſt knaves in Europe, wanted all the power and money of the eaſt: for they had all that was in Europe already. The times and the minds favoured their de- ſign, for they were dark and uninformed; and Peter the hermit, at once a knave and a madman, was a fine papal tool for ſo wild and wicked an undertaking. I 426 - Countenance, &c. wiſh we had good hiſtories of every part of Europe, and indeed of the world, written upon the plan of Vol. taire's de l'Eſprit Humain; for, I own, I am provoked at the contempt which moſt hiſtorians ſhow for humanity in general; one would think by them, that the whole human ſpecies conſiſted but of about a hundred and fifty people, called and dignified (commonly very un- deſervedly too) by the titles of emperors, kings, popes, generals, and miniſters. This is the day when people reciprocally offer, and receive, the kindeſt and the warmeſt wiſhes, though, in general, without meaning them on one fide, or be- lieving them on the other. They are formed by the head, in compliance with cuſtom, though diſavowed by the heart, in conſequence of nature. His wiſhes, upon this occaſion, are the beſt, that are the beſt turn- ed; you do not, I am ſure, doubt the truth of mine, and therefore I will expreſs them with a Quaker-like ſimplicity. May this new year be a very new one in- deed to you; may you put off the old, and put on the new man but I mean the outward, not the inward man. With this alteration, I might juſtly ſum up all my wiſhes for you in theſe words, - Dii tibi dent annos l de te nam catera ſumes. -ma-— LETTER CLV. Countenance... Roughness in Manners...Cabalistical Writ- ers...Turkish History...Despotism. six de AR FRIEND, Bath, Odober the 19th. OF all the various ingredients that compoſe the uſeful and neceſſary art of pleaſing, no, one is ſo effectual and engaging as that gentleneſs, that douceur of countenance and manners, to which you are no ſtranger, though (God knows why) a ſworn enemy. Other people take great pains to conceal or diſguiſe their natural imper- fečtions; ſome, by the make of their clothes, and other arts, endeavour to conceal the defe&ts of their ſhape; women, who unfortunately have natural bad com- plexions, lay on good ones; and both men and women, Countenance... Roughness in Manners. 427 upon whom unkind nature has inflićted a ſurlineſs and ferocity of countenance, do at leaſt all they can, though often without ſucceſs, to ſoften and mitigate it; they aim at ſmiles, though often in the attempt, like the devil in Milton, they grin horribly, a ghaſtly ſmile. But you are the only perſon I ever knew, in the whole courſe of my life, who not only diſdain, but abſo- lutely rejećt and diſguiſe a great advantage that na- ture has kindly granted. You eaſily gueſs I mean coun- tenance; for ſhe has given you a very pleaſing one; but you beg to be excuſed, you will not accept it, on the contrary take ſingular pains to put on the moſt fu- neſe *, forbidding, and unpleaſing one, that can poſ- fibly be imagined. This one would think impoſſible, but you know it to be true. If you imagine that it gives you a manly, thoughtful, and deciſive air, as ſome, though very few of your countrymen do, you are moſt exceedingly miſtaken; for it is at beſt the air of a German corporal, part of whoſe exerciſe is to look fierce. You will ſay, perhaps, What, am I always to be ſtudying my countenance, in order to wear this dou- ceur 2 I anſwer, no; do it but a fortnight, and you never will have occaſion to think of it more. Take but half the pains to recover the countenance that nature gave you, that you muſt have taken to diſguiſe aud de- form it as you have, and the buſineſs will be done. Give all your motions too an air of douceur, which is direétly the reverſe of their preſent celerity and rapi- dity. Will you call this trouble 2. It will not be half an hour's trouble to you in a week's time. But ſup- poſe it be, pray tell me, why did you give yourſelf the trouble of learning to dance It is neither a religious, moral, nor civil duty: You muſt own, that you did it then ſingly to pleaſe, and you were in the right of it. Why do you wear fine clothes, and curl your hair? Both are troubleſome : lank locks, and plain flimſy rags are much eaſier. This then you alſo do in order to pleaſe, and you do very right. But then, reaſon and aćt conſequentially; and endeavour to pleaſe in other things too, ſtill more eſſential, and without which the trouble you have taken in thoſe is wholly thrown away, * Melancholy. } 428 - Roughness in Manners. You are by no means ill-natured, and would you then moſt unjuſtly be reckoned ſo Yet your common countenance intimates, and would make any body, who did not know you, believe it. A-propos of this; I muſt tell you what was ſaid the other day to a fine lady whom you know, who is very good-natured in truth, but whoſe common countenance implies ill-na- ture, even to brutality. It was miſs H--n, lady M y’s niece, whom you have ſeen at Blackheath, and at lady Hervey’s. Lady M–y was ſaying to me, that you had a very engaging countenance when you had a mind to it, but that you had not always that mind ; upon which miſs H – n ſaid, that ſhe liked your court- tenance beſt when it was as glum as her own. Why then, replied lady M-y, you two ſhould marry; for, while you wear your worſt countenances, nobody elſe will venture upon either of you; and they call her now Mrs. Stanhope. To complete this douceur of counte : nance and motions, which I ſo earneſtly recommend to you, you ſhould carry it alſo to your expreſſions and manner of thinking; take the gentle, the favourable, the indulgent fide of moſt queſtions. I own, that the manly and ſublime John Trott, your countryman, ſel- dom does ; but, to ſhow his ſpirit and deciſion, takes the rough and harſh ſide, which he generally adorns with an oath, to ſeem more formidable. This he only thinks fine; for, to do John juſtice, he is commonly as good-natured as any body. Theſe are among the many little things which you have not, and I have liv- ed long enough in the world to know of what infinite conſequence they are, in the courſe of life. Reaſon then, I repeat it again, within yourſelf, conſequentially : and let not the pains you have taken, and ſtill take, to pleaſe in ſome things, be à pure perte", by your negli- gence of, and inattention to others, of much leſs trou- ble, and much more conſequence. * I have been of late much engaged, or rather bewil- dered, in oriental hiſtory, particularly that of the Jews, fince the deſtrućtion of their temple, and their diſper- fion by Titus; but the confuſion and uncertainty of the whole, and the monſtrous extravagances and falſe- # Entirely to loſs, Cabalistical Hºriters...Turkish History. 429 hoods of the greateſt part of it, diſguſted me extremely. Their Thalmud, their Miſchnah, their Targums, and other traditions and writings of their rabbins and doc- tors, who were moſt of them cabaliſts, are really more extravagant and abſurd, if poſſible, than all that you have read in comte de Gabalis; and indeed moſt of his ſtuff is taken from them. Take this ſample of their nonſenſe, which is tranſmitted in the writings of one of their moſt conſiderable rabbins. “One Abas Saul, a man of ten feet high, was digging a grave, and hap- pened to find the eye of Goliath, in which he thought proper to bury himſelf; and ſo he did, all but his head, which the giant's eye was unfortunately not quite deep enough to receive.” This, I aſſure you, is the moſt modeſt lie of ten thouſand. I have alſo read the Turkiſh hiſtory, which, excepting the religious part, is not fabulous, though very poſſibly not true. For the Turks, having no notion of letters, and being, even by their religion, forbidden the uſe of them, except for reading and tranſcribing the Koran, they have no hiſ- torians of their own, nër any authentic records or me- morials for other hiſtorians to work upon; ſo that what hiſtories we have of that country are written by for reigners, as Platina, Sir Paul Rycaut, Prince Cantemir, &c. or elſe ſnatches only of particular and ſhort pe- riods, by ſome who happened to reſide there at thoſe times, ſuch as Buſbequius, whom I have juſt finiſh- ed. I like him, as far as he goes, much the beſt of any of them : but then his account is, properly, only an account of his own embaſſy from the emperor Charles the Vth to Solyman the Magnificent. However, there he gives, epiſodically, the beſt account I know, of the cuſtoms and manners of the Turks, and of the nature of that government, which is a moſt extraordinary one. For, deſpotic as it always ſeems, and ſometimes is, it is in truth a military republic; and the real power re- fides in the janiſſaries, who ſometimes order their ſul- tan to ſtrangle his vizir, and ſometimes the vizir to de- poſe or ſtrangle his ſultan, according as they happen to be angry at the one or the other. I own I am glad that the capital ſtrangler ſhould, in his turn, beſirangle- able, and now and then ſtrangled; for I know of no 430 Court of Manheim. brute ſo fierce, nor criminal ſo guilty, as the creature called a ſovereign, whether king, ſultan, or ſophy, who thinks himſelf, either by divine or human right, veſted with an abſolute power of deſtroying his fellow-crea- tures; or who, without inquiring into his right, lawleſsly exerts that power. The moſt excuſable of all thoſe human monſters are the Turks, whoſe religion teaches them inevitable fataliſm. I do not yet hear one jot the better for all my bathings and pumpings, though I have been here already full half my time; I conſequently go very little into com- pany, being very little fit for any. I hope you keep company enough for us both; you will get more by that, than I ſhall by all my reading. I read ſingly to amuſe myſelf, and fill up my time, of which I have too much; but you have two much better reaſons for going into company, pleaſure and profit. May you find a great deal of both, in a great deal of company.—Adieu ! -mº. ººm- LETTER CLVI. Court of Manheim...Good-breeding secures a good Recep- tion...Affairs of France...Danger to established Govern- ments from the Military...Another Prophecy of the French Revolution...The Reasons. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, December the 25th. YESTERDAY again I received two letters at once from you, the one of the 7th, the other of the 15th, from Manheim. - You never had in your life ſo good a reaſon for not writing, either to me or to any body elſe, as your fore finger lately furniſhed you. I believe it was painful, and I am glad it is cured ; but a ſore finger, however painful, is a much leſſer evil than lazineſs, of either body or mind, and attended by fewer ill conſequences. I am very glad to hear that you were diſtinguiſhed at the court of Manheim, from the reſt of your country- men and fellow-travellers: it is a ſign that you had better manners and addreſs than they ; for, take it for granted, the beſt-bred people will always be the beſt Good-Breeding...Affairs of France. 4.3 1 received, wherever they go. Good manners are the ſettled medium of ſocial, as ſpecie is of commercial life; returns are equally expected for both ; and people will no more advance their civility to a bear, than their money to a bankrupt. I really both hope and believe that the German courts will do you a great deal of good; their ceremony and reſtraint being the proper correćtives and antidotes for your negligence and inat- tention. I believe they would not greatly reliſh your weltering in your own lazineſs and an eaſy chair; nor take it very kindly, if, when they ſpoke to you, or you to them, you looked another way; as much as to ſay, Kiſs my b—h. As they give, ſo they require attention; and, by the way, take this maxim for an undoubted truth, that no young man can poſſibly improve in any company for which he has not reſpe&t enough to be under ſome degree of reſtraint. - As my letters to you frequently miſcarry, I will re- peat in this that part of my laſt which related to your future motions. Whenever you ſhall be tired of Ber- lin, go to Dreſden; where Sir Charles Williams will be, who will receive you with open arms. He dined with me to-day; and ſets out for Dreſden in about ſix weeks. He ſpoke of you with great kindneſs, and impatience to ſee you again. He will truſt and employ you in buſineſs (and he is now in the whole ſecret of import- ance) till we fix our place to meet in ; which, proba- bly, will be Spa. Wherever you are, inform yourſelf minutely of, and attend particularly to the affairs of France; they grow ſerious, and, in my opinion, will grow more and more ſo every day. The king is de- ſpiſed, and I do not wonder at it; but he has brought it about to be hated at the ſame time, which ſeldom hap- pens to the ſame man. His miniſters are known to be as diſunited as incapable : he heſitates between the church and the parliaments, like the aſs in the fable, that ſtarved between two hampers of hay; too much in love with his miſtreſs to part with her, and too much afraid for his ſoul to enjoy her : jealous of the parliaments, who would ſupport his authority; and a devoted bigot to the church, that would deſtroy it. The people are poor, conſequently diſcontented: thoſe 4.32 Prophecy of the French Revolution. who have religion are divided in their notions of it; which is ſaying, that they hate one another. The clergy never do forgive, much leſs will they forgive the parliament: the parliament never will forgive them. The army muſt, without doubt, take, in their own minds at leaſt, different parts in all theſe, diſputes, which, upon occaſion, would break out. Armies, though always the ſupporters and tools of abſolute power for the time being, are always the deſtroyers of it too, by frequently changing the hands in which they think proper to lodge it. This was the caſe of the praetorian bands, who depoſed and murdered the mon- ſters they had raiſed to oppreſs mankind. The janiſ- ſaries in Turkey, and the regiments of guards in Ruſſia, do the ſame now. The French nation reaſons freely, which they never did before, upon matters of religion and government; the officers do ſo too: in ſhort, all the ſymptoms, which I have ever met with in hiſtory, previous to great changes and revolutions in govern- ment, now exiſt, and daily increaſe in France. I am glad of it; the reſt of Europe will be the quietér, and have time to recover. England, I am ſure, wants reſt; for it wants men and money: the republic of the United Provinces wants both, ſtill more: the other powers cannot well dance, when neither France, nor the maritime powers, can, as they uſed to do, pay the piper. The firſt ſquabble in Europe, that I foreſee, will be about the crown of Poland, ſhould the preſent king die; and therefore I wiſh his majeſty a long life, and a merry Chriſtmas. So much for foreign politics: but, 3-propos of them, pray take care, while you are in thoſe parts of Germany, to inform yourſelf correótly of all the details, diſcuſſions, and agreements, which the feveral wars, confiſcations, bans, and treaties, occaſion- ed between the Bavarian and Palatine eleētorates; they are intereſting and curious. [ 433 LETTER CLVII. Parliament...Means of acquiring Distinction there...Ne- cessity of not over-rating Mankind. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, February the 15th, I CAN now with great truth apply your own motto to you, Nullum numen abeſ?, ſº ſit prudentia. You are ſure of being, as early as your age will permit, a mem- ber of that houſe, which is the only road to figure and fortune in this country. Thoſe indeed who are bred up to, and diſtinguiſh themſelves in particular profeſ- fions, as the army, the navy, and the law, may by their own merit raiſe themſelves to a certain degree; but you may obſerve too, that they never get to the top, without the aſſiſtance of parliamentary talents and influence. The means of diſtinguiſhing yourſelf in parliament are much more eaſily attained than I believe you imagine. Cloſe attendance to the buſineſs of the houſe will ſoon give you the parliamentary routine; and ſtrićt attention to your ſtyle will ſoon make you, not only a ſpeaker, but a good one. The vulgar look upon a man who is reckoned a fine ſpeaker as a phaenome- non, a ſupernatural being, and endowed with ſome peculiar gift of heaven : they ſtare at him if he walks in the Park, and cry, That is he / You will, I am ſure, view him in a juſter light, and nulla formidine *. You will confider him 6aly as a man of good ſenſe, who adorns common thoughts with the graces of elocution and the elegancy of ſtyle. The miracle will then ceaſe; and you will be convinced, that, with the ſame appli- cation and attention to the ſame objećts, you may moſt certainly equal, and perhaps ſurpaſs-this prodigy. Sir Y — , with not a quarter of your parts, and not a thouſandth part of your knowledge, has, by a glibneſs of tongue ſingly, raiſed himſelf ſucceſſively to the beſt employments of the kingdom ; he has been lord of the Admiralty, lord of the Treaſury, ſecretary at war, and is now vice-treaſurer of Ireland; and all this with a moſt ſullied, not to ſay blaſted charaćter, Re- * With no fear. U \ * 434 Means of acquiring Distinction in Parliament. preſent the thing to yourſelf, as it really is, eaſily at- tainable, and you will find it ſo. Have but ambition enough paſſionately to defire the objećt, and ſpirit enough to uſe the means, and I will be anſwerable for your ſucceſs. When I was younger than you are, I reſolved within myſelf that I would in all events be a fpeaker in parliament, and a good one too, if I could. I conſequently never loſt ſight of that objećt, and never neglečted any of the means that I thought led to it. I ſucceeded to a certain degree; and, I aſſure you, with great eaſe, and without ſuperior talents. Young people are very apt to over-rate both men and things, from not being enough acquainted with them. In pro- portion as you come to know. them better, you will value them leſs. You will find that reaſon, which al- ways ought to direét mankind, ſeldom does; but that paſſions and weakneſſes commonly uſurp its ſeat, and rule in its ſtead. You will find, that the ableſt have their weak fides too, and are only comparatively able, with regard to the ſtill weaker herd ; having fewer weakneſſes themſelves, they are able to avail themſelves of the innumerable ones of the generality of mankind : being more maſters of themſelves, they become more eaſily maſters of others. They addreſs themſelves to their weakneſſes, their ſenſes, their paſſions; never to their reaſon ; and conſequently ſeldom fail of ſucceſs. But then analyſe thoſe great, thoſe governing, and, as the vulgar imagine, thoſe perfeót charaćters; and you will find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, the great cardinal de Richelieu a jealous poetaſter, and the great duke of Marlborough a miſer. Now, to bring all this home to my firſt point—All theſe confiderations ſhould not only invite you to at- tempt to make a figure in parliament, but encourage you to hope that you ſhall ſucceed. To govern mankind, one muſt not over-rate them; and to pleaſe an audience as a ſpeaker, one muſt not over-value it. When I firſt came into the houſe of commons, I reſpe&ted that aſſem- bly as a venerable one; and felt a certain a we upon me: but, upon better acquaintance, that awe ſoon vaniſhed; and I diſcovered, that of the five hundred and ſixty not above thirty could underſtand reaſon, and that all the reſt were peuple : that thoſe thirty only required plain Method in Business. 435 common ſenſe, dreſſed up in good language; and that all the others only required flowing and harmonious periods, whether they conveyed any meaning or not ; having ears to hear, but not ſenſe enough to judge. Theſe conſiderations made me ſpeak with little concern the firſt time, with leſs the ſecond, and with none at all the third. I gave myſelf no farther trouble about any thing, except my elocation and my ſtyle; pre- ſuming, without much vanity, that I had common fenſe ſufficient not to talk nonſenſe. Fix theſe three truths ſtrongly in your mind: Firſt, That it is abſo- lutely neceſſary for you to ſpeak in parliament; ſe- condly, That it only requires a little human attention, and no ſupernatural gifts; and, thirdly, That you have all the reaſon in the world to think that you ſhall ſpeak well. When we meet, this ſhall be the principal ſub- jećt of our converſations; and, if you will follow my advice, I will anſwer for your ſucceſs. - -mºm- LETTER CLVIII. lfethod in Business...Duke of Marlborough...Duke of New- castle...Sir Robert Walpole...Indolence a Kind of Suicide ... Translating. MY DEAR FRIEND, . London, February the 26th. I HAVE received your letters of the 4th from Munich, and of the 11th from Ratiſbon ; but I have not received that of the 31ſt January, to which you refer in the for- mer. It is to this negligence and uncertainty of the poſt that you owe your accidents between Munich and Ratiſbon ; for, had you received my letters regularly, you would have received one from me before you left Munich, in which I adviſed you to ſtay, ſince you were ſo well there. But, at all events, you were in the wrong to ſet out from Munich in ſuch weather and ſuch roads, ſince you could never imagine that I had ſet my heart ſo much upon your going to Berlin as to venture your being buried in the ſnow for it. But upon the whole, conſidering all, you are very well off. Now that you are to º a man of buſineſs, I 2. - 2’ 436 Dukes of Marlborough and Newcastle...Sir R. Walpole. heartily wiſh you would immediately begin to be a man of method; nothing contributing more to facilitate and diſpatch buſineſs than method and order. Have order and method in your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of your time; in ſhort, in every thing. You cannot conceive how much time you will ſave by it, nor how much better everything you do will be done. The duke of Marlborough did by no means ſpend, but he ſlatterned himſelf into that immenſe debt, which is not yet near paid off. The hurry and confuſion of the duke of New caſtle do not proceed from his buſineſs, but from his want of method in it. Sir Robert Walpole, who had ten times the buſineſs to do, was never ſeen in a hurry, becauſe he always did it with method. The head of a man who has buſineſs, and no method nor order, is pro- perly that rudis indigeſtaque moles quam dixere chaos º. As you muſt be conſcious that you are extremely neg- ligent and flatternly, I hope you will reſolve not to be ſo for the future. Prevail with yourſelf only to ob- ferve good method and order for one fortnight; and I will venture to aſſure you, that you will never negle&t them afterwards, you will find ſuch conveniency and advantage ariſing from them. Method is the great ad- vantage that lawyers have over other people in ſpeak- ing in parliament; for, as they muſt neceſſarily obſerve it in their pleadings in the courts of juſtice, it becomes habitual to them every where elſe. Without making you a compliment, I can tell you with pleaſure, that order, method, and more ačtivity of mind, are all that you want, to make, ſome day or other, a conſiderable figure in buſineſs. You have more uſeful knowledge, more diſcernment of charaćters, and much more diſ- cretion, than is common at your age; much more, I am ſure, than I had at that age. Experience you can- not yet have, and therefore truſt in the mean time to mine. I am an old traveller; am well acquainted with all the bye as well as the great roads: I cannot miſguide you from ignorance, and you are very ſure I ſhall not from deſign. I can aſſure you, that you will have no opportunity * The rade and indigefied maſs which is called chaos. Indolence a Kind of Suicide. 43? of ſubſcribing yourſelf My Excellency’s, &c. Retire- ment and quiet were my choice ſome years ago, while I had all my ſenſes, and health and ſpirits enough to carry on buſineſs; but now I have loſt my hearing, and find my conſtitution declining daily, they are become my neceſſary and only refuge. I know myſelf, (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell you) I know what I can, what I cannot, and conſequently what I ought to do. I ought not, and therefore will not, re- turn to buſineſs, when I am much leſs fit for it than P. was when I quitted it. Still leſs will I go to Ireland, where, from my deafneſs and infirmities, I muſt ne- ceſſarily make a different figure from that which ſ once made there. ‘My pride would be too much mortified by that difference. The two important ſenſes of ſeeing and hearing ſhould not only be good, but quick in buſineſs; and the buſineſs of a lord lieutenant of Ire- land (if he will do it himſelf) requires both thoſe ſenſes in the higheſt perfeótion. It was the duke of Dorſet's. not doing the buſineſs himſelf, but giving it up to fa- vourites, that has occaſioned all this confuſion in Ire- land; and it was my doing the whole myſelf, without either favourite, miniſter, or miſtreſs, that made my adminiſtration ſo ſmooth and quiet. I remember, when I named the late Mr. Liddel for my ſecretary, every body was much ſurpriſed at it; and ſome of my friends repreſented to me, that he was no man of buſi- neſs, but only a very genteel, pretty young fellow ; I aſſured them, and with truth, that that was the very reaſon why I choſe him: for that I was reſolved to do all the buſineſs myſelf, and without even the ſuſpicion of having a miniſter; which the lord lieutenant's ſecre- tary, if he is a man of buſineſs, is always ſuppoſed, and commonly with reaſon, to be. My only remaining ambition is now to be the counſellor and miniſter of your riſing ambition. Let me ſee my own youth re- vived in you ; let me be your mentor, and, with your parts and knowledge, I promiſe you, you ſhall go far. You muſt bring, on your part, ačtivity and attention, and I will point out to you the proper objećts for them. I own I fear but one thing for you, and that is what one has generally the leaſt reaſon to fear, from one of \ U 3. 4.38 Evils of Procrastination. your age, I mean your lazineſs; which, if you indulge, will make you ſtagnate in a contemptible obſcurity all your life. It will hinder you from doing any thing that will deſerve to be written, or from writing any thing that may deſerve to be read; and yet one or other of theſe two objećts ſhould be at leaſt aimed at by every rational being. I look upon indolence as a fort of ſuicide; for the man is effe&tually deſtroyed, though the appetites of the brute may ſurvive. Uſe yourſelf, therefore, in time to be alert and diligent in your little concerns: never procraſtinate, never put off till to-morrow, what you can do to-day; and never do two things at a time: purſue your objećt, be it what it will, ſteadily and indefatigably; and let any difficul- ties (if ſurmountable) rather animate than ſlacken your endeavours. Perſeverance has ſurpriſing effects. I wiſh you would uſe yourſelf to tranſlate, every day, only three or four lines, from any book, in any lan- guage, into the correóteſt and moſt elegant Engliſh that you can think of; you cannot imagine how it will in- ſenſibly form your ſtyle, and give you an habitual ele- ancy : it would not take you up a quarter of an hour in a day. This letter is ſo long, that it will hardly leave you that quarter of an hour, the day you receive it. So good night. LETTER CLIX. Death of Mr. Pelham... Ministerial Changes...Absurd Po- - litical Speculations...Mr. For, - MY DEAR FRIEND, | London, March the 8th. A GREAT and unexpected event has lately happened in our miniſterial world—Mr. Pelham died laſt Monday, of a fever and mortification, occaſioned by a general corruption of his whole maſs of blood, which had broken out into ſores in his back. I regret him as an old ac- quaintance, a pretty near relation, and a private man, with whom I have lived many years in a ſocial and friendly way. He meaned well to the public, and was incorrupt in a poſt where corruption is commonly con- * 11:nisterial Changes...}{r. For. 439 tagious. If he was no ſhining, enterpriſing miniſter, he was a ſafe one, which I like better, Very ſhining mi- niſters, like the fun, are apt to ſcorch when they ſhine the brighteſt: in our conſtitution, 1 prefer the milder light of a leſs glaring miniſter. His ſucceſſor is not yet, at leaſt publicly, deſignatus. You will eaſily ſup- poſe that many are very willing, and very few able to fill that poſt. Various perſons are talked of, by diffe- rent people, for it, according as their intereſt prompts them to wiſh, or their ignorance to conjećture. . Mr. Fox is the moſt talked of; he is ſtrongly ſupported by the duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, the ſolicitor- general, and Dr. Lee, are likewiſe all ſpoken of, upon the foot of the duke of Newcaſtle's and the chancellor’s intereſt. Should it be any one of the three laſt, I think no great alterations will enſue; but ſhould Mr. Fox prevail, it would, in my opinion, ſoon produce changes by no means favourable to the duke of Newcaſtle. In the mean time, the wild conjećtures of volunteer poli- ticians, and the ridiculous importance which, upon theſe occaſions, blockheads always endeavour to give them- ſelves, by grave looks, figuificant ſhrugs, and inſignifi- cant whiſpers, are very entertaining to a bye-ſtander, as, thank God, I'now am. One knows ſomething, but is not yet at liberty to tell it; another has heard ſomething from a very good hand; a third congratulates himſelf upon a certain degree of intimacy which he has long had with every one of the candidates, though, perhaps, he has never ſpoken twice to any one of them. In ſhort, in theſe ſort of intervals, vanity, intereſt, and abſurdity, always diſplay themſelves in the moſt ridicu- lous light, One who has been ſo long behind the ſcenes, as I have, is much more diverted with the entertain- ment than thoſe can be who only ſee it from the pit and boxes. I know the whole machinery of the interior, and can laugh the better at the filly wonder and wild conjećtures of the uninformed ſpectators. I am this moment informed, and I believe truly, that Mr. Fox * is to ſucceed Mr. Pelham as firſt commiſ- * Henry Fox, created lord Holland, baron of Foxley, in the year 1763, ** U 4 440 Necessity of Self-Command. fioner of the Treaſury and chancellor of the Exchequer; and your friend Mr. Yorke, of the Hague, to ſucceed Mr. Fox as ſecretary at war. I am not ſorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as I have always been upon . civil terms with him, and found him ready to do me any little ſervices. He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner; and, to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon my account; if you can after- Wards make hiºn yours, upon your own, tant mieux. I have nothing more to ſay now, but adieu ! *-*— LETTER CLX. Necessity of Self-command...Florid Style...Philosophy of Cicero and Plato. MY DEAR FRIEND, London, March the 26th. YESTERDAY I received your letter of the 15th, from Manheim, where I find you have been received in the uſual gracious manner; which I hope you return in a graceful one. I am very glad that you wrote the letter to lord —, which, in every different caſe that can poſſibly be ſuppoſed, was, I am ſure, both a decent and a prudent ſtep. You will find it very difficult, when- ever we meet, to convince me that you could have any good reaſons for not doing it; for I will, for argument's ſake, ſuppoſe, what I cannot in reality believe, that he has both ſaid and done the worſt he could, of and by you. What then How will you help yourſelf Are you in a ſituation to hurt him * Certainly not; but he certainly is in a ſituation to hurt you. . Would you ſhow a fullen, pouting, impotent reſentment? I hope not; leave that filly unavailing ſort of reſentment to women, and men like them, who are always guided by humour, never by 'reaſon and prudence. That pettiſh pouting condućt is a great deal too young, and implies too little knowledge of the world for one who has ſeen ſo much of it as you have. Whoever cannot maſter his humour, ſhould leave the world, and retire to ſome hermitage in an unfrequented deſert. By ſhowing an unavailing and ſullen reſentment, you authoriſe the re- *- Florid Style...Philosophy of Cicero and Plato. 441 ſentment of thoſe who can hurt you, and whom you cannot hurt; and give them that very pretence, which, perhaps, they wiſhed, for, of breaking with, and injuring you; whereas the contrary behaviour would lay them under the reſtraints of decency at leaſt; and either ſhackle or expoſe their malice. Beſides, captiouſneſs, ſullenneſs, and pouting, are moſt exceedingly illiberal and vulgar. - I am extremely glad to hear that you are ſoon to have Voltaire at Manheim : immediately upon his arrival, pray make him a thouſand compliments from me. I long to read his own correót edition of Les Annales de l'Empire, of which the Abrégé Chronologique de l’Hiſtoire Univerſelle, which I have read, is, I ſuppoſe, a ſtolen and imperfeót part; however, imperfeót as it is, it has explained to me that chaos of hiſtory, of ſeven hundred years, more clearly than any other book had done be- fore. You judge very rightly, that I love le ſtyle leger et . fleuri +. I do, and ſo does every body who has any parts and taſte. It ſhould, I confeſs, be more or leſs fleuri, according to the ſubjećt; but at the ſame time I aſſert, that there is no ſubjećt that may not properly, and which ought not to be adorned, by a certain elegancy and beauty of ſtyle. What can be more adorned than Cicero's philoſophical works? What more than Plato's It is their eloquence only that has preſerved and tranſmitted them down to us through ſo many centuries; for the philoſophy of them is wretched, and the reaſoning part miſerable. But eloquence will always pleaſe, and has always pleaſed. Study it therefore; make it the objećt of your thoughts and attention. Uſe yourſelf to relate elegantly; that is a good ſtep towards ſpeaking well in parliament. Take ſome political ſubjećt, turn it in your thoughts, conſider what may be ſaid both for and againſt it, then put thoſe arguments into writing in the moſt correót and elegant Engliſh you can. For in- ſtance, a ſtanding army, a place-bill, &c. As to the for- mer, conſider, on one ſide, the dangers ariſing to a free country from a great ſtanding military force ; on the other ſide, conſider the neceſſity of a force to repel force * Lively and florid. U 5 * 442 Philosophy of Cicero and Plato. with. Examine whether a ſtanding army, though in it. ſelf an evil, may not, from circumſtances, become a ne- ceſſary evil, and preventive of greater dangers. As to the latter, confider how far places may bias and warp the condućt of men, from the ſervice of their country, into an unwarrantable complaiſance to the court; and, on the other hand, confider whether they can be ſup- poſed to have that effect upon the condućt of people of probity and property, who are more ſolidly intereſted in the permanent good of their country, than they can be in an uncertain and precarious employment. Seek for, and anſwer in your own mind, all the arguments that can be urged on either ſide, and write them down in an elegant ſtyle. This will prepare you for debating, and give you an habitual eloquence; for I would not give a farthing for a mere holiday eloquence, diſplayed once or twice in a ſeſſion, in a ſet declamation; but I want an every-day, ready, and habitual eloquence, to adorn extempore and debating ſpeeches; to make buſineſs not only clear but agreeable, and to pleaſe even thoſe whom You cannot inform, and who do not deſire to be in- formed. When we meet at Spa, next July, we muſt have a great many ſerious converſations; in which I will pour out all my experience of the world, and which, I hope, you will truſt to, more than to your own young notions of Inen and things. You will in time diſcover moſt of them to have been erroneous; and, if you follow them long, you will perceive your error too late; but, if you will be led by a guide, who, you are ſure, does not mean to miſlead you, you will unite two things ſeldom united in the ſame perſon; the vivacity and ſpirit of youth, with the caution and experience of age. - Laſt Saturday, Sir Thomas Robinſon *, who had been the king’s miniſter at Vienna, was declared ſecretary of ſtate for the ſouthern department, lord Holderneſs having taken the northern. Sir Thomas accepted it unwillingly, and, as I hear, with a promiſe that he ſhall. not keep it long. Both his health and ſpirits are bad, * Created lord Grantham in the year. 1761, and ſince embaſſador cxtraordinary and plenipotentiary to the court of Spain. Translations...Faults in Style, &c. 443 two very diſqualifying circumſtances for that employ- ment; yours, I hope, will enable you, ſome time or other, to go through with it. In all events, aim at it, and if you fail or fall, let it at leaſt be ſaid of you, magni; tamen excidit aufts *. Adieu. A * LETTER CLXI. Translations... Faults in Style... Fashion in Style...Singu- MY DEAR FRIEND, London, April the 5th. I AM very glad that you uſe yourſelf to tranſlations; and I do not care of what, provided you ſtudy the cor- rectneſs and elegancy of your ſtyle. The life of Sextus Quintus is the beſt book, of the innumerable books written by Gregorio Leti; but I would rather that you choſe ſome pieces of oratory for your tranſlations; whether ancient or modern, Latin or French ; which would give you a more oratorical train of thought, and turn of expreſſion. In your letter to me, you make uſe of two words, which, though true and correót Engliſh, are, however, from long diſuſe, become inelegant, and ſeem now to be ſtiff, formal, and in ſome degree ſcrip- tural: the firſt is the word namely, which you introduce thus, you inform me of a very agreeable piece of news, namely, that my eleēţion is ſecured. Inſtead of namely, I would always uſe, which is, or that is, that my eleētion is ſecured. The other word is, mine own inclimations this is certainly correót before a ſubſequent word that begins with a vowel; but it is too correót, and is now diſ- uſed as too formal, notwithſtanding the hiatus occaſioned by my own. Every language has its peculiarities; they are eſtabliſhed by uſage, and, whether right or wrong, they muſt be complied with. I could inſtance many very ab-, ſurd ones in different languages; but ſo authoriſed by the jus et norma loquendi f, that they muſt be ſubmitted to. Namely, and to wit, are very good words in thermſelves, and contribute to clearneſs, more than the relatives which * He fell in attempting great things. t The law and cuſtom of ſpeech. 444 Necessity of Attention. we now ſubſtitute in their room; but, however, they can- not be uſed, except in a ſermon, or ſome very grave and formal compoſitions. It is with language as with manners; they are both eſtabliſhed by the uſage of people of faſhion; it muſt be imitated, it muſt be com- plied with. Singularity is only pardonable in old age and retirement; I may now be as fingular as I pleaſe, but you may not. We will, when we meet, diſcuſs theſe and many other points, provided you will give me at- tention and credit; without both which it is to no pur- poſe to adviſe either you or any body elſe. Adieu. .# *-sº- With this letter the ſyſtem of education purſued and recommended by lord Cheſterfield may be confidered as terminated. Young Stanhope returned to England im- mediately after the receipt of it. He took his ſeat in parliament in the courſe of the ſpring; and was after- wards appointed envoy to the court of Dreſden, whence he returned from indiſpoſition, and died on the 16th of November 1768. . MAXIMS. BY THE EMRE OF CHESTERFIELD. A PROPER ſecrecy is the only myſtery of able men; myſtery is the only ſecrecy of weak and cunning ones. A man who tells nothing, or who tells all, will equally have nothing told him. - - If a fool knows a ſecret, he tells it becauſe he is a fool; if a knave knows one, he tells it wherever it is his intereſt to tell it. But women, and young men, are very apt to tell what ſecrets they know, from the vanity of having been truſted. Truſt none of theſe, whenever you can help it. Inattention to the preſent buſineſs, be it what it will; the doing one thing, and thinking at the ſame time of another, or the attempting to do two things at once, are the never-failing figns of a little, frivolous mind. A man who cannot command his temper, his atten- tion, and his countenance, ſhould not think of being a man of buſineſs. The weakeſt man in the world can Marins. 445 avail himſelf of the paſſions of the wiſeſt. The inatten- tive man cannot know the buſineſs, and conſequently cannot do it. And he who cannot command his coun- tenance, may e'en as well tell his thoughts as ſhow then). Diſtruſt all thoſe who love you extremely upon a very ſlight acquaintance, and without any viſible reaſon. Be upon your guard, too, againſt thoſe who confeſs, as their weakneſſes, all the cardinal virtues. - In your friendſhips, and in your enmities, let your confidence and your hoſtilities have certain bounds: make not the former dangerous, nor the latter irrecon- cileable. There are ſtrange viciſhtudes in buſineſs! . Smooth your way to the head, through the heart. The way of reaſon is a good one; but it is commonly ſome- thing longer, and perhaps not ſo ſure. Spirit is now a very faſhionable word: to ačt with ſpirit, to ſpeak with ſpirit, means only, to act raſhly, and to talk indiſcreetly. . An able man ſhows his ſpirit by gentle words and reſolute ačtions: he is neither hot nor When a man of ſenſe happens to be in that diſagree- able ſituation in which he is obliged to aſk himſelf - more than once, What ſhall I do 2 he will anſwer him- ſelf, Nothing. When his reaſon points out to him no good way, or at leaſt no one way leſs bad than another, he will ſtop ſhort, and wait for Light. A little buſy mind runs on at all events, muſt be doing; and, like a blind horſe, fears no dangers, becauſe he ſees none. Il faut ſº avoir s'ennuier. - - Patience is a moſt neceſſary qualification for buſineſs; many a man would rather you heard his ſtory, than granted his requeſt. One muſt ſeem to hear the un- reaſonable demands of the petulant, unmoved, and the tedious details of the dull, untired. That is the leaſt price that a man muſt pay for a high ſtation. - It is always right to dete&t a fraud, and to perceive a folly; but it is often very wrong to expoſe either. A man of buſineſs ſhould always have his eyes open; but muſt often ſeem to have them ſhut. - In courts, nobody ſhould be below your management and attention : the links that form the court chain are innumerable and inconceivable. You muſt hear with patience the dull grievances of a gentieman liſher, or a ,” 446 r Mariins. page of the back-ſtairs, who, very probably, intrigues with ſome near relation of the favourite maid, of the fa- vourite miſtreſs, of the favourite miniſter, or, perhaps, of the king himſelf; and who, conſequently, may do you more dark and indireét good, or harm, than the firſt man of quality. * . - One good patron at court may be ſufficient, provided you have no perſonal enemies; and, in order to have none, you muſt ſacrifice (as the Indians do to the devil) moſt of your paſſions, and much of your time, to the numberleſs evil beings that infeſt it: in order to pre- vent and avert the miſchiefs they can do you. s A young man, be his merit what it will, can never raiſe himſelf; but muſt, like the ivy round the oak, twine himſelf round ſome man of great power and in- tereſt. You muſt belong to a miniſter ſome time, be- fore any body will belong to you ; and an inviolable fidelity to that miniſter, even in his diſgrace, will be meritorious, and recommend you to the next. Miniſters love a perſonal, much more than a party attachment. As kings are begotten and born like other men, it is to be preſumed that they are of the human ſpecies; and, perhaps, had they the ſame education, they might prove like other men. But, flattered from their cradles, their hearts are corrupted, and their heads are turned, ſo that they ſeem to be a ſpecies by themſelves. No king ever ſaid to himſelf, Homo ſum, nihil humani a me alienum pure. Flattery cannot be too ſtrong for them; drunk with it from their infancy, like old drinkers, they require drams. They prefer a perſonal attachment to a public ſer- vice, and reward it better. They are vain and weak enough to look upon it as a free-will offering to their merit, and not as a burnt-ſacrifice to their power. If you would be a favourite of your king, addreſs yourſelf to his weakneſſes. An application to his reaſon will ſeldom prove very ſucceſsful. In courts, baſhfulneſs and timidity are as prejudicial on one hand as impudence and raſhneſs are on the other. A proper aſſurance, and a cool intrepidity, with a rational modeſty, are the true and neceſſary medium. Never apply for what you ſee very little probability of obtaining; for you will, by aſking improper and unattainable things, accuſtom the miniſters to refuſe you Marins. - 447 *s ſo often, that they will find it eaſy to refuſe you the propereſt and moſt reaſonable ones. . It is a common, but a moſt miſtaken rule at court, to aſk for every thing, in order to get ſomething: you do get ſomething by it, it is true; but it is refuſals and ridicule. - There is a court jargon; a chit-chat, a ſmall talk, which turns ſingly upon trifles; and which, in a great many words, ſays little or nothing. It ſtands fools in ſtead of what they cannot ſay, and men of ſenſe inſtead of what they ſhould not ſay. It is the proper language of levees, drawing rooms, and anti-chambers: it is ne- ceſſary to know it. Whatever a man is at court, he muſt be genteel and well-bred; that cloak covers as many follies, as that of charity does ſins. I knew a man of great quality, and in a great ſtation at court, confidered and reſpected, whoſe higheſt charaćter was, that he was humbly proud, and genteelly dull. * - At court, people embrace without acquaintance, ſerve one another without friendſhip, and injure one another without hatred. Intereſt, not ſentiment, is the growth of that ſoil. - +. A difference of opinion, though in the mereſt trifles, alienates little minds, eſpecially of high rank. It is full as eaſy to commend as to blame a great man’s cook, or his taylor : it is ſhorter too; and the obječts are no more worth diſputing about, than the people are worth diſ. puting with. It is impoſſible to inform, but very eaſy to diſpleaſe them. - A cheerful, eaſy countenance and behaviour, are very uſeful at court: they make fools think you a good- natured man; and they make deſigning men think you an undeſigning one. - - :- Ceremony is neceſſary in courts, as the outwork and defence of manners. - * Compliment, though a baſe coin, is the neceſſary pocket-money at court; where, by cuſtom and conſent, it has obtained ſuch a currency, that it is no longer a fraudulent, but a legal payment. l * If a miniſter refuſes you a reaſonable requeſt, and either ſlights or injures you, if you have not the power to gratify your reſentment, have the wiſdom to conceal; £º. it. Seeming good-humour on your part may preveaf Af 448 - Marims. ^ - - -- rancour on his, and, perhaps, bring things right again: but if you have the power to hurt, hint modeſtly, that, if provoked, you may poſſibly have the will too. Fear, when real, and well founded, is, perhaps, a more prevailing motive at courts than love. -- - At court, many more people can hurt than can help you : pleaſe the former, but engage the latter. . Awkwardneſs is a more real diſadvantage than it is generally thought to be ; it often occaſions ridicule, it always leſſens dignity, - * A man’s own good-breeding is his beſt ſecurity againſt other people's ill manners. - Good-breeding carries along with it a dignity, that is reſpected by the moſt petulant. Ill-breeding invites and authoriſes the familiarity of the moſt timid. No man ever ſaid a pert thing to the duke of Marlborough. . No man ever ſaid a civil one (though many a flattering one) to Sir Robert Walpole. * When the old clipped money was called in for a new coinage in king William’s time, to prevent the like for the future, they ſtamped on the edges of the crown- pieces theſe words, Et decas et tutamen. That is exactly the caſe of good-breeding. * Knowledge may give weight, but accompliſhments only give luſtre; and many more people ſee than weigh. Moſt arts require long ſtudy and application; but the moſt uſeful art of all, that of pleaſing, requires only the deſire. - t It is to be preſumed, that a man of common ſenſe, who does not defire to pleaſe, deſires nothing at all; ſince he muſt know that he cannot obtain any thing without it. - - - A ſkilful negotiator will moſt carefully diſtinguiſh between the little and the great objećts of his buſineſs, and will be as frank and open in the former as he will be ſecret and pertinacious in the latter. He will, by his manners and addreſs, endeavour, at leaſt, to make his public adverſaries his perſonal friends. He will flatter and engage the man, while he counter- works the miniſter; and he will never alienate people’s minds from him, by wrangling for points, either abſo- ºely unattainable, or not worth attaining. He will ifiake even a merit of giving up what he could pot or Maxims. 449 would not carry, and ſell a trifle for a thouſand times its value. * - - A foreign miniſter, who is concerned in great affairs, muſt neceſſarily have ſpies in his pay; but he muſt not too eaſily credit their informations, which are never exačtly true, often very falſe. His beſt ſpies will always be thoſe whom he does not pay, but whom he has en- gaged in his ſervice by his dexterity and addreſs, and who think themſelves nothing leſs than ſpies. There is a certain jargon, which, in French, I ſhould call un perſºftage d'affaires, that a foreign miniſter ought to be perfeótly maſter of, and may uſe very advan- tageouſly at great entertainments, in mixed companies, and in all occaſions where he muſt ſpeak, and ſhould ſay nothing. Well turned and well ſpoken, it ſeems to mean ſomething, though in truth it means nothing. It is a kind of political badinage, which prevents or re- moves a thouſand difficulties, to which a foreign mi- niſter is expoſed in mixed converſations. If ever the volto ſciolto, and the penſieri ſtretti are ne- ceſſary, they are ſo in theſe affairs. A grave, dark, reſerved, and myſterious air, has foenwm in cornu. An even, eaſy, unembarraſſed one, invites confidence, and leaves no room for gueſſes and conjećtures. A foreign miniſter ſhould be a moſt exačt economiſt; an expence proportioned to his appointments and for- tune is neceſſary : but, on the other hand, debt is in- evitable ruin to him. It finks him into diſgrace at the court where he reſides, and into the moſt ſervile and abjećt dependance on the court that ſent him. As he cannot reſent ill uſage, he is ſure to have enough of it. The duc de Sully obſerves very juſtly, in his Me- moirs, that nothing contributed more to his riſe than that prudent economy which he had obſerved from his youth ; and by which he had always a ſum of money before-hand, in caſe of emergencies. It is very difficult to fix the particular point of economy; the beſt error of the two is on the parſi- monious ſide. That may be correóted, the other can- In Ot. The reputation of generoſity is to be purchaſed pretty cheap; it does not depend ſo much upon a man’s gé- neral expence, as it does upon his giving handſomely 450 Maxims. where it is proper to give at all. A man, for inſtance, who ſhould give a ſervant four ſhillings, would paſs for covetous, while he who gave him a crown would be reckoned generous : ſo that the difference of thoſe two oppoſite charaćters turns upon one ſhilling. A man's chara&ter, in that particular, depends a great deal upon the report of his own ſervants; a mere trifle above common wages makes their report favourable. Take care always to form your eſtabliſhment ſo much within your income, as to leave a ſufficient fund for unexpe&ted contingences and a prudent liberality. There is hardly a year, in any man's life, in which a ſmall ſum of ready money may not be employed to great advantage. ** * , *ºmme- MAXIMS of the CARDINAL DE RETz. 1. A MIDDLING underſtanding, being ſuſceptible of unjuſt ſuſpicions, is, conſequently, of all charaćters, the leaſt fit to head a faction—As the moſt indiſpenſa- ble qualification in ſuch a chief is, to ſuppreſs, on many occaſions, and to conceal in all, even the beſt- grounded ſuſpicions. 2. Nothing animates and gives ſtrength to a commo- tion ſo much as the ridicule of him againſt whom it is raiſed. 3. Among people uſed to affairs of moment, ſecrecy is much leſs uncommon than is generally believed. 4. Deſcending to the little is the ſureſt way of at- taining to an equality with the great. ‘. 5. Sufferings, in people of the firſt ank, ſupply the want of virtue. º 6. The greateſt powers cannot injure a man's cha- raēter, whoſe reputation is unblemiſhed among his party. 7. We are as often duped by diffidence, as by con- fidence. 3. The greateſt evils are not arrived at their utmoſt period, until thoſe who are in power have loſt all ſenſe of ſhame. At ſuch a time, thoſe who ſhould obey fhäke off all reſpect and ſubordination. Then is le- thargic indolence rouſed; but rouſed by convulſions. * + *::$lis- +: + 9. A veil ought always to be drawn over whatever may be ſaid or thought concerning the fights of the people, or of kings; which agree beſt when leaſt men- tioned *. * Io. There are, at times, ſituations ſo very unfortu- Maxims. 45 k." ºl nate, that whatever is undertaken muſt be wrong. Chance, alone, never throws people into ſuch dilem- mas; and they happen only to thoſe who bring them upon themſelves. .* * 1 1. It is more unbecoming a miniſter to ſay, than to do filly things. . . ... • 12. The advice given to a miniſter by an obnoxious perſon is always thought bad. - - 13. It is as dangerous, and almoſt as criminal, with princes, to have the power of doing good, as the will of doing evil. - r 14. Timorous minds, are much more inclined to de- , liberate than to reſolve. * 15. It appears ridiculous to aſſert, but it is not the leſs true, that at Paris, during popular commotions, the moſt violent will not quit their homes paſt a ſtated hour. . . . . - - 16. Flexibility is the moſt requiſite qualification for the management of great affairs. - - 17. It is more difficult for the member of făion to live with thoſe of his own party, than to ačt againſt thoſe who oppoſe it. 18. Violent meaſures are always dangerous; but, when neceſſary, may then be looked upon as wiſe. They have, however, the advantage of never being matter of indifferency; and, when well concerted, muſt be deciſive. - 19. There may be circumſtances, in which even prudence direéts us to truſt entirely to chance. 20. Every thing in this world has its critical moś ment; and the height of good condućt conſiſts in knowing, and ſeizing it. 21. Profligacy, joined to ridicule, form the moſt abominable and moſt dangerous of all charaćters. 22. Weak minds never yield when they ought. 23. Examples taken from paſt times have infinitely * This maxim, as well as ſeveral others, evidently prove they were written by a man ſubjećt to deſpotic government. 452 . . Maxims. more pöwer over the minds of men than any of the age in which they live. 'Whatever we ſee, grows fa- miliar; and perhaps the conſulſhip of Caligula's horſe might not have aſtoniſhed us ſo much as we are apt to imagine. . . . . . . * ... - 24. Weak minds are commonly overpowered by clamour. r 25. We ought never to contend for what we are not likely to obtain. . 26. The inſtant in which we receive the moſt favour. able accounts, is juſt that wherein we ought to re- double our vigilance, even in regard to the moſt tri- fling circumſtances. --- s & 27. It is dangerous to have a known influence over the people; as thereby we become reſponſible even for what is done againſ our will. . . . . • Q Y . . . . . . . • * - 28, . . . . . . . ." § ºrie #, civil war is, that more art is required to know what ...ould be con- cealed from our friends, than what ought to be done againſt our enemies. . . . - . 29. The poſſibility of remedying imprudent ačtions is commonly an inducement to commit them. 30. In momentous affairs, no ſtep is indifferent. 3 & Nothing convinces perſons of a weak under- ſtanding ſo effectually, as what they do not comprehend. 32. When fačtions are only upon the defenſive, they ought never to do that which may be delayed. Upon ſuch occaſions, nothing is ſo troubleſome as the reſt- leſſneſs of ſubalterns, who think a ſtate of ina&tion total deſtruction. - 33. Thoſe who head factions have no way of main- taining their authority, but by preventing or quieting diſcontent. 34. A certain degree of fear produces the ſame ef- fe&ts as raſhneſs. ... • - jº 35. In affairs of importance, the choice of words is of as much conſequence as it would be ſuperfluous in thoſe of little moment. . 36. During thoſe calms which immediately ſucceed violent forms, nothing is more difficult for miniſters than to ačt properly; becauſe, while flattery increaſes, ſuſpicions are not yet ſubſided. . ELEMENT ARY.