DEAR 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 virtutes’, which must procure you their
love and affection. The former, unassisted and unadorned by the latter,
will extort praise; but will, at the same time, excite both fear and
envy; two sentiments absolutely incompatible 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 virtutes’ which Cato wanted, and
which made him beloved, even by his enemies, and gained him the hearts of
mankind, in spite of their reason: while Cato was not even beloved by his
friends, notwithstanding 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 least with success), and the latter could have protected,
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 humor. 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 nowhere beloved. Whereas Henry
IV. of France, who had full as much courage, and was much longer engaged
in wars, was generally beloved upon account of his lesser and social
virtues. We are all so formed, 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 engaged by the ‘leniores
virtutes’ alone, 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 manner that he thinks it
mere condescension in him; and that his goodness alone bestows upon you
what you have no pretense to claim. He intimates his protection, instead
of his friendship, by a gracious nod, instead of a usual bow; and rather
signifies his consent that you may, than his invitation that you should
sit, 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
insinuates 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 inflicts it upon you; and is
(if possible) more desirous to show you your own ignorance 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 favor conferred, by reminding us of the
motive which produced, and the manner which accompanied it.
These faults point out their opposite perfections, and your own good
sense will naturally suggest them to you.
But besides these lesser virtues, there are what may be called the lesser
talents, or accomplishments, which are of great use to adorn and
recommend all the greater; and the more so, as all people are judges of
the one, and but few are of the other. Everybody feels the impression,
which an engaging address, an agreeable manner of speaking, and an easy
politeness, makes upon them; and they prepare the way for the favorable
reception of their betters. Adieu.