LONDON, November 14, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: There is a natural good-breeding which occurs to every man of
common sense, and is practiced by every man, of common good-nature. This
good-breeding is general, independent of modes, and consists in endeavors
to please and oblige our fellow-creatures by all good offices, short of
moral duties. This will be practiced by a good-natured American savage,
as essentially as by the best-bred European. But then, I do not take it
to extend to the sacrifice of our own conveniences, for the sake of other
people’s. Utility introduced this sort of good-breeding as it introduced
commerce; and established a truck of the little ‘agremens’ and pleasures
of life. I sacrifice such a conveniency to you, you sacrifice another to
me; this commerce circulates, and every individual finds his account in
it upon the whole. The third sort of good-breeding is local, and is
variously modified, in not only different countries, but in different
towns of the same country. But it must be founded upon the two former
sorts; they are the matter to which, in this case, fashion and custom
only give the different shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two first
sorts will easily acquire this third sort of good-breeding, which depends
singly upon attention and observation. It is, properly, the polish, the
lustre, the last finishing stroke of good-breeding. It is to be found
only in capitals, and even there it varies; the good-breeding of Rome
differing, in some things, from that of Paris; that of Paris, in others,
from that of Madrid; and that of Madrid, in many things, from that of
London. A man of sense, therefore, carefully attends to the local manners
of the respective places where he is, and takes for his models those
persons whom he observes to be at the head of fashion and good-breeding.
He watches how they address themselves to their superiors, how they
accost their equals, and how they treat their inferiors; and lets none of
those little niceties escape him which are to good-breeding what the last
delicate and masterly touches are to a good picture; and of which the
vulgar have no notion, but by which good judges distinguish the master.
He attends even to their air, dress, and motions, and imitates them,
liberally, and not servilely; he copies, but does not mimic. These
personal graces are of very great consequence. They anticipate the
sentiments, before merit can engage the understanding; they captivate the
heart, and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of charms and
philters. Their effects were so surprising, that they were reckoned
supernatural. The most graceful and best-bred men, and the handsomest and
genteelest women, give the most philters; and, as I verily believe,
without the least assistance of the devil. Pray be not only well dressed,
but shining in your dress; let it have ‘du brillant’. I do not mean by a
clumsy load of gold and silver, but by the taste and fashion of it. The
women like and require it; they think it an attention due to them; but,
on the other hand, if your motions and carriage are not graceful,
genteel, and natural, your fine clothes will only display your
awkwardness the more. But I am unwilling to suppose you still awkward;
for surely, by this time, you must have catched a good air in good
company. When you went from hence you were naturally awkward; but your
awkwardness was adventitious and Westmonasterial. Leipsig, I apprehend,
is not the seat of the Graces; and I presume you acquired none there. But
now, if you will be pleased to observe what people of the first fashion
do with their legs and arms, heads and bodies, you will reduce yours to
certain decent laws of motion. You danced pretty well here, and ought to
dance very well before you come home; for what one is obliged to do
sometimes, one ought to be able to do well. Besides, ‘la belle danse
donne du brillant a un jeune homme’. And you should endeavor to shine. A
calm serenity, negative merit and graces, do not become your age. You
should be ‘alerte, adroit, vif’; be wanted, talked of, impatiently
expected, and unwillingly parted with in company. I should be glad to
hear half a dozen women of fashion say, ‘Ou est donc le petit Stanhope?
due ne vient-il? Il faut avouer qu’il est aimable’. All this I do not
mean singly with regard to women as the principal object; but, with
regard to men, and with a view of your making yourself considerable. For
with very small variations, the same things that please women please men;
and a man whose manners are softened and polished by women of fashion,
and who is formed by them to an habitual attention and complaisance, will
please, engage, and connect men, much easier and more than he would
otherwise. You must be sensible that you cannot rise in the world,
without forming connections, and engaging different characters to
conspire in your point. You must make them your dependents without their
knowing it, and dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them.
Those necessary connections can never be formed, or preserved, but by an
uninterrupted series of complaisance, attentions, politeness, and some
constraint. You must engage their hearts, if you would have their
support; you must watch the ‘mollia tempora’, and captivate them by the
‘agremens’ and charms of conversation. People will not be called out to
your service, only when you want them; and, if you expect to receive
strength from them, they must receive either pleasure or advantage from
you.
I received in this instant a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 2d N. S.,
which I will answer soon; in the meantime, I return him my thanks for it,
through you. The constant good accounts which he gives me of you, will
make me suspect him of partiality, and think him ‘le medecin tant mieux’.
Consider, therefore, what weight any future deposition of his against you
must necessarily have with me. As, in that case, he will be a very
unwilling, he must consequently be a very important witness. Adieu!