LONDON, February 20, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In all systems whatsoever, whether of religion,
government, morals, etc., perfection is the object always proposed,
though possibly unattainable; hitherto, at least, certainly unattained.
However, those who aim carefully at the mark itself, will unquestionably
come nearer it, than those who from despair, negligence, or indolence,
leave to chance the work of skill. This maxim holds equally true in
common life; those who aim at perfection will come infinitely nearer it
than those desponding or indolent spirits, who foolishly say to
themselves: Nobody is perfect; perfection is unattainable; to attempt it
is chimerical; I shall do as well as others; why then should I give
myself trouble to be what I never can, and what, according to the common
course of things, I need not be, PERFECT?
I am very sure that I need not point out to you the weakness and the
folly of this reasoning, if it deserves the name of reasoning. It would
discourage and put a stop to the exertion of any one of our faculties. On
the contrary, a man of sense and spirit says to himself: Though the point
of perfection may (considering the imperfection of our nature) be
unattainable, my care, my endeavors, my attention, shall not be wanting
to get as near it as I can. I will approach it every day, possibly, I may
arrive at it at last; at least, what I am sure is in my own power, I will
not be distanced. Many fools (speaking of you) say to me: What! would you
have him perfect? I answer: Why not? What hurt would it do him or me? O,
but that is impossible, say they; I reply, I am not sure of that:
perfection in the abstract, I admit to be unattainable, but what is
commonly called perfection in a character I maintain to be attainable,
and not only that, but in every man’s power. He hath, continue they, a
good head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, which would increase
daily: What would you have more? Why, I would have everything more that
can adorn and complete a character. Will it do his head, his heart, or
his knowledge any harm, to have the utmost delicacy of manners, the most
shining advantages of air and address, the most endearing attentions, and
the most engaging graces? But as he is, say they, he is loved wherever he
is known. I am very glad of it, say I; but I would have him be liked
before he is known, and loved afterward. I would have him, by his first
abord and address, make people wish to know him, and inclined to love
him: he will save a great deal of time by it. Indeed, reply they, you are
too nice, too exact, and lay too much stress upon things that are of very
little consequence. Indeed, rejoin I, you know very little of the nature
of mankind, if you take those things to be of little consequence: one
cannot be too attentive to them; it is they that always engage the heart,
of which the understanding is commonly the bubble. And I would much
rather that he erred in a point of grammar, of history, of philosophy,
etc., than in point of manners and address. But consider, he is very
young; all this will come in time. I hope so; but that time must be when
he is young, or it will never be at all; the right ‘pli’ must be taken
young, or it will never be easy or seem natural. Come, come, say they
(substituting, as is frequently done, assertion instead of argument),
depend upon it he will do very well: and you have a great deal of reason
to be satisfied with him. I hope and believe he will do well, but I would
have him do better than well. I am very well pleased with him, but I
would be more, I would be proud of him. I would have him have lustre as
well as weight. Did you ever know anybody that reunited all these
talents? Yes, I did; Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, the
manners, and the graces of a courtier, to the solidity of a statesman,
and to the learning of a pedant. He was ‘omnis homo’; and pray what
should hinder my boy from being so too, if he ‘hath, as I think he hath,
all the other qualifications that you allow him? Nothing can hinder him,
but neglect of or inattention to, those objects which his own good sense
must tell him are, of infinite consequence to him, and which therefore I
will not suppose him capable of either neglecting or despising.
This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of a controversy that
passed yesterday, between Lady Hervey and myself, upon your subject, and
almost in the very words. I submit the decision of it to yourself; let
your own good sense determine it, and make you act in consequence of that
determination. The receipt to make this composition is short and
infallible; here I give it to you:
Take variety of the best company, wherever you are; be minutely attentive
to every word and action; imitate respectively those whom you observe to
be distinguished and considered for any one accomplishment; then mix all
those several accomplishments together, and serve them up yourself to
others.
I hope your fair, or rather your brown AMERICAN is well. I hear that she
makes very handsome presents, if she is not so herself. I am told there
are people at Paris who expect, from this secret connection, to see in
time a volume of letters, superior to Madame de Graffiny’s Peruvian ones;
I lay in my claim to one of the first copies.
Francis’s Genie--[Francis’s “Eugenia.”]--hath been acted twice, with most
universal applause; to-night is his third night, and I am going to it. I
did not think it would have succeeded so well, considering how long our
British audiences have been accustomed to murder, racks, and poison, in
every tragedy; but it affected the heart so much, that it triumphed over
habit and prejudice. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. The
prologue, which is a very good one, was made entirely by Garrick. The
epilogue is old Cibber’s; but corrected, though not enough, by Francis.
He will get a great deal of, money by it; and, consequently, be better
able to lend you sixpence, upon any emergency.
The parliament of Paris, I find by the newspapers, has not carried its
point concerning the hospitals, and, though the King hath given up the
Archbishop, yet as he has put them under the management and direction ‘du
Grand Conseil’, the parliament is equally out of the question. This will
naturally put you upon inquiring into the constitution of the ‘Grand
Conseil’. You will, doubtless, inform yourself who it is composed of,
what things are ‘de son ressort’, whether or not there lies an appeal
from thence to any other place; and of all other particulars, that may
give you a clear notion of this assembly. There are also three or four
other Conseils in France, of which you ought to know the constitution and
the objects; I dare say you do know them already; but if you do not, lose
no time in informing yourself. These things, as I have often told you,
are best learned in various French companies: but in no English ones, for
none of our countrymen trouble their heads about them. To use a very
trite image, collect, like the bee, your store from every quarter. In
some companies (‘parmi les fermiers generaux nommement’) you may, by
proper inquiries, get a general knowledge, at least, of ‘les affaires des
finances’. When you are with ‘des gens de robe’, suck them with regard to
the constitution, and civil government, and ‘sic de caeteris’. This shows
you the advantage of keeping a great deal of different French company; an
advantage much superior to any that you can possibly receive from
loitering and sauntering away evenings in any English company at Paris,
not even excepting Lord A------. Love of ease, and fear of restraint (to
both which I doubt you are, for a young fellow, too much addicted) may
invite you among your countrymen: but pray withstand those mean
temptations, ‘et prenez sur vous’, for the sake of being in those
assemblies, which alone can inform your mind and improve your manners.
You have not now many months to continue at Paris; make the most of them;
get into every house there, if you can; extend acquaintance, know
everything and everybody there; that when you leave it for other places,
you may be ‘au fait’, and even able to explain whatever you may hear
mentioned concerning it. Adieu.