LONDON, August 20, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: Let us resume our reflections upon men, their characters, their
manners, in a word, our reflections 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 were nobody’s business to
communicate it to young men. Their masters teach them, singly, 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 neglect 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: practice 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 traveler.
There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary, to make even
the most valuable character either respected or respectable.--[Meaning
worthy of respect.]
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 respectable man. Indiscriminate familiarity either
offends your superiors, or else dubbs you their dependent and led
captain. It gives your inferiors just, 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 manners, is
never respected there, but only made use of. We will have such-a-one, for
he sings 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 distinctions,
mortifying preferences, and exclude all ideas of esteem and regard.
Whoever is HAD (as it is called) in company for the sake of any one thing
singly, is singly that thing and will never be considered in any other
light; consequently 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 joking; but is absolutely inconsistent with it; for nothing vilifies
and degrades more than pride. The pretensions of the proud man are
oftener treated with sneer and contempt, than with indignation; as we
offer ridiculously too little to a tradesman, who asks ridiculously too
much for his goods; but we do not haggle with one who only asks a just
and reasonable price.
Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation degrade as much as
indiscriminate contradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a modest
assertion of one’s own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence to other
people’s, preserve dignity.
Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and address, vilify, as they
imply either a very low turn of mind, or low education and low company.
Frivolous curiosity about trifles, and a laborious attention to little
objects which neither require nor deserve 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 wrote 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 decent cheerfulness, which are always
serious themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and a whifing
activity of the body, are strong indications of futility. Whoever 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 characters, in other respects
valuable enough,--but I have taken no notice of those that affect and
sink the moral characters. They are sufficiently obvious. A man who has
patiently been kicked may as well pretend 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 sinking, than
otherwise he would be: of such consequence is the [****], even though
affected and put on! Pray read frequently, and with the utmost attention,
nay, get by heart, if you can, that incomparable chapter in Cicero’s
“Offices,” upon the [****], or the Decorum. It contains whatever is
necessary 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 choked 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
accompany 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.
Lady Chesterfield has just now received your German letter, for which she
thanks you; she says the language is very correct; and I can plainly see
that the character is well formed, not to say better than your English
character. Continue to write German frequently, that it may become quite
familiar to you. Adieu.