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terated good policy and right reasoning. In such fituations I would be more particularly and noblement civil, easy, and frank, with the man whole designs I 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, fometimes more fo; 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 enunciation, the graces, add great efficacy to the fuaviter in modo, and great dignity to the fortiter in re; and consequently they deserve the utmost actention.
• From what has been said, I conclude with this observation, that gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind, is a short, but full description of human perfection, 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 sincere and ardent with of yours.'
We shall now add part of another Letter, chiefly for the fake of a parliamentary anecdote, which will be acceptable to our more scientific Readers.
• I acquainted you in a former letter, that I had brought a bill into the Houfe of Lords for correcting 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 reflections 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 13th corrected this error ; his reformed 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 honourable 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 correspondences, whether political or
mercantile. I determined, therefore, to attempt the reformation ; [ consulted the best lawyers, and the most skilful astronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpose. But then my difficulty began : 1 was to bring in this bill, which was necessarily composed of law jar. gon and astronomical calculations, to both which I am an urter tranger. 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 themfelves, which they do not. For my own part, I could just as foon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them, as astronomy, and they would have understood me fall as well : so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please initead 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 epifodes; but I was particularly attentive to the choice of my words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, to my elocution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever will fucceed; they thought I informed, because I pleased them: and many of them said, that I had
made the whole very clear to them; when, God knows, I had not even attempted it. Lord Macclesfield, who had the greatest share in forming the bill, and who is one of the greatest mathematicians and afronomers in Europe, spoke afterwards, with infinite knowledge, and all the clearness that fo intricate a matter would admit of : but as his words, his periods, and his utterance, were not near fo good as mine, the preference was most unanimously, though most unjuftly, given to me. This will ever be the case; every numerous assembly is mob, let the individuals who compose it be what they will. Mere reason and good senfe is never to be talked to a mob: their palions, their sentiments, their senses, and their seeming interests, are alone to be applied to. Understanding they have collectively none; bot they have ears and eyes, which must be flattered and reduced; and this can only be done by eloquence, tuneful periods, graceful action, 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 moft grody mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked only according to your eloquence, and by no means according to your matter; every body knows the matter 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 resolved not to utter one word, even in common conversation, that should not be the mo& expreflive, and the mot 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 objects. Your fole bumpels now, is to shine, not to weigh. Weight without luftre is leade You had better talk trifles elegantly, to the molt trifting woman, than coarfe inelegant sense, to the most solid man • you had better return a dropped fan genteely, than give a thoasaad 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 enfoy to embaffador ; but your address, your manner, your air, if good, very prebably may. Marcel can be of much more use to you than Aristotle. I would, upon my word, much rather that you had Lord Bolingbroke's style and eloquence, in speaking and writing, than all the learning of the Academy of Sciences, the Royal Society, and the two Universities united.
Having mentioned Lord Boling broke's style, which is, undoubt edly, infinitely superior to any body's; I would have you read his works, which you have, over and over again, with particular atten, tion to his style. Transcribe, imitate, emulate it, if pollble: that would be of real use to you in the House of Commons, in negatia tions, in conversation ; with that, you may juftly hope to pleafe, to persuade, to seduce, to impose ; and you will fail in those articles, in proportion as you fall short of it, Upon the whole, Jay ande,
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. Prenez l'éclat et le brillant d'un galant bomme.'
Here we cannot help observing, by the way, how extremely folicitous the noble preceptor appears, not in the above-quoted letter only, but in many other parts of the series, to qualify his Son for making an agreeable figure in the House of Commonswithout once attempting to point out to him the great line of his duty there, or shewing him the proper objects of his attention and regard, not merely as a Senator, but as an ENGLISHMAN. Here and there, indeed, we meet with a few political hints; but they are such as might be expected from a man emulous rather of the character of a Machiavel, than of an Hampden or a Trenchard.
It was, perhaps, from this and other obvious confiderations, that a certain great Moralist is said to have been provoked to censure the present publication, as firted only to inculcate “ the morals of a whore, with the manners of a dancingmafter."
With regard to elegance of manners, however, we prefume that every Connoisseur in what is justly esteemed Politeness, will totally diffent from the opinion of the learned Moralift; who will not, we apprehend, be allowed, by bis acquaintance, to decide on a subject, on which he may be deemed as little qualified to judge, as a Rhinoceros would be, with respect to the graceful agility of an Antelope.
Our Readers will, by this time, be ready to conclude that Lord C.'s passion for pleasing had entirely taken poffeffion of the whole man; and they will not be mistaken. He did not, indeed, make any secret of his extreme devotion to les bienseances. In his forty-first letter he has, himself, curiously and frankly developed this principal part of his character.
• As I open myself, without the least reserve, whenever I think that my doing so can be of any use to you, I will give you a short account of myself. 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 leatt) at nineseen, 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 facecious, 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 necesfary, useful, or ornamental to men; and I was not without thoughts of wearing the toga virilis of the Romans, instead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the moderns. With these excellent notions, I went firt to the Hague, where, by the help of
feveral letters of recommendation, I was soon introduced into all the best company; and where I very fcon discovered, that I was totally miltaken in almost every one notion I had entertained. 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 desire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to acquire the means too. I studied attentively and minutely the dress, the air, the man. ner, 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 carefully watched his dress, motions, and attitudes, and formed my own upon them. When I heard of another, whose conversation was agreeable and engaging, I listened and attended to the turn of it. I addressed myself, though de très mauvaise grace, to all the most falhionable fine ladies ; confeffed, and laughed with them at my own awkwardness and rawness, recommending myself as an object for them to try their skill in forming. By these means, and with a pasionate desire of pleasing every body, I came by degrees to please fome; and, I can affure you, that what little figure I 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 to strong (and I am very glad it was so that I own to you fairly, I wished to make every woman I law, in love with me, and every man I met with, admire me. Without this passion, for the object, I should never have been fo attentive to the means; and I own I cannot conceive how it is poffible for any man of good nature and good sense to be without this passion. Does not good-nature incline us to please all those we converse with, of whatever rank or station they may be? And does not good senfe, and common obfervation, 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 manner, which is mere tinsel. I deny it. A man may be esteemed and respected, but I defy him to pleafe without them. Moreover, at your age, I would not have contented myself with barely pleasing ; I wanted to shine, and to distinguish myself in the world as a man of fashion and gallantry, as well as bufiness
. 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.lt is the spring of a thousand right and good things.'
The knowledge of the world was undoubtedly his Lordship's forte; and in his 57th Letter we have some striking obfervations on the subject :
April 30, 1752. • My dear Friend, • Avoir du monde is, in my opinion, a very juft and happy express fion, for having address, manners, and for knowing how to behave properly in all companies; and it implies very truly, that a man, who hath not those accomplishments, is not of the world. Without them, the best parts are inefficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. A learned parson, rafting in his cell, at Oxford or Cam
bridge, bridge, will reason admirably well upon the nature of man ; will profoundly analyse the head, the heart, the reason, the will, the pasions, the senses, the sentiments, and all those subdivisions of we know not what; and yer, unfortunately, he knows 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 the capital ones are seen ; but an experienced dyer knows all their various shades and gradations, together with the result of their feveral mixtures. Few men are of one plain, decided colour; moft are mixed, shaded, and blended; and vary as much, from different situations, as changeable filks do from different lights. The man qui à du monde knoivs all this from his own experience and observation: the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows nothing of it from his own theory; his practice is absurd and improper; and he acts 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 : fee by what methods they firft make, and afterwards improve impressions in their favour. Those impressions are much oftener owing to little causes, than to intrinsic merit ; which is lefs volatile, and hath not so sudden an effect. Strong minds have undoubtedly an ascendant over weak ones, as Galigai Maréchale d’Ancre very juftly observed, when, to the disgrace and reproach of those times, the 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 bullied, though most are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often seen people of fuperior, governed by people of much inferior parts, without knowing or even fufpecting that they were so governed. This can only happen, when those people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity and experience, than those they govern. They see the weak and unguarded part, and apply to it : they take it, and all the rest follows. Would you gain either men or women, and every man of sense desires to gain both, il faut du monde. You have had more opportunities than ever any man had, at your age, of acquiring ce monde; you have been in the best companies in most countries, at an age when others have hardly been int any company at all. You are maller of all those languages, which John Trott feldom speaks at all, and never well, consequently you netd be a stranger no where. This is the way, and the only way, of having du monde ; but if you have it not, and have till any coarse rusticity about you, may one not apply to you the rufticus expellat of Horace?
· This knowledge of the world teaches us more particularly two things, both of which are of infinite consequence, and to neither of which nature inclines us ; I mean, the command of our temper, and of our countenance. A man who has no mondo is inllained with anger, or annihilated with shame, at every disagreeable incident: the one makes him act and talk like a madman, the other makes i Rev. June, 1774. Hh