BATH, March 9, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I must from time to time, remind you of what I have often
recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much; SACRIFICE
TO THE GRACES. The different effects of the same things, said or done,
when accompanied or abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. They
prepare the way to the heart; and the heart has such an influence over
the understanding, that it is worth while to engage it in our interest.
It is the whole of women, who are guided by nothing else: and it has so
much to say, even with men, and the ablest men too, that it commonly
triumphs in every struggle with the understanding. Monsieur de
Rochefoucault, in his “Maxims,” says, that ‘l’esprit est souvent la dupe
du coeur.’ If he had said, instead of ‘souvent, tresque toujours’, I fear
he would have been nearer the truth. This being the case, aim at the
heart. Intrinsic merit alone will not do; it will gain you the general
esteem of all; but not the particular affection, that is, the heart of
any. To engage the affections of any particular person, you must, over
and above your general merit, have some particular merit to that person
by services done, or offered; by expressions of regard and esteem; by
complaisance, attentions, etc., for him. And the graceful manner of doing
all these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or rather
insures, their effects. From your own observation, reflect what a
disagreeable impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure, an
ungraceful manner of speaking, whether stuttering, muttering, monotony,
or drawling, an unattentive behavior, etc., make upon you, at first
sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though for
aught you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect,
on the other hand, how much the opposites of all these things prepossess
you, at first sight, in favor of those who enjoy them. You wish to find
all good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do
not. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, conspire to
form these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always please. A pretty
person, genteel motions, a proper degree of dress, an harmonious voice,
something open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing; a
distinct and properly varied manner of speaking: All these things, and
many others, are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing
je ne sais quoi, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe.
Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be
persuaded, that in general; the same things will please or displease them
in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against
it: and I could heartily wish, that you may often be seen to smile, but
never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the
characteristic of folly and in manners; it is the manner in which the mob
express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In
my mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible
laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; they are
above it: They please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the
countenance. But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always
excite laughter; and that is what people of sense and breeding should
show themselves above. A man’s going to sit down, in the supposition that
he has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breech for want of
one, sets a whole company a laughing, when all the wit in the world would
not do it; a plain proof, in my mind, how low and unbecoming a thing
laughter is: not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the
shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily
restrained, by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connected
with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I
am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing
and as apt to be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that, since I have had
the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people,
at first, from awkwardness and ‘mauvaise honte’, have got a very
disagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak; and I know
a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing
without laughing; which makes those, who do not know him, take him at
first for a natural fool. This, and many other very disagreeable habits,
are owing to mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. They
are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted, that they do not know what
they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance;
which tricks afterward grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in
their nose, others scratch their heads, others twirl their hats; in
short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency does
not justify the thing, and all these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses,
though not criminal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, as
they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remember, that to
please is almost to prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it.
You, who have your fortune to make, should more particularly study this
art. You had not, I must tell you, when you left England, ‘les manieres
prevenantes’; and I must confess they are not very common in England; but
I hope that your good sense will make you acquire them abroad. If you
desire to make yourself considerable in the world (as, if you have any
spirit, you do), it must be entirely your own doing; for I may very
possibly be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own rank
and fortune will not assist you; your merit and your manners can alone
raise you to figure and fortune. I have laid the foundations of them, by
the education which I have given you; but you must build the
superstructure yourself.
I must now apply to you for some informations, which I dare say you can,
and which I desire you will give me.
Can the Elector of Saxony put any of his subjects to death for high
treason, without bringing them first to their trial in some public court
of justice?
Can he, by his own authority, confine any subject in prison as long as he
pleases, without trial?
Can he banish any subject out of his dominions by his own authority?
Can he lay any tax whatsoever upon his subjects, without the consent of
the states of Saxony? and what are those states? how are they elected?
what orders do they consist of? Do the clergy make part of them? and
when, and how often do they meet?
If two subjects of the elector’s are at law, for an estate situated in
the electorate, in what court must this suit be tried? and will the
decision of that court be final, or does there lie an appeal to the
imperial chamber at Wetzlaer?
What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magistrates, of civil
and criminal justice?
What is the common revenue of the electorate, one year with another?
What number of troops does the elector now maintain? and what is the
greatest number that the electorate is able to maintain?
I do not expect to have all these questions answered at once; but you
will answer them, in proportion as you get the necessary and authentic
informations.
You are, you see, my German oracle; and I consult you with so much faith,
that you need not, like the oracles of old, return ambiguous answers;
especially as you have this advantage over them, too, that I only consult
you about past end present, but not about what is to come.
I wish you a good Easter-fair at Leipsig. See, with attention all the
shops, drolls, tumblers, rope-dancers, and ‘hoc genus omne’: but inform
yourself more particularly of the several parts of trade there. Adieu.