MY DEAR FRIEND: I never think my time so well employed, as when I think
it employed to your advantage. You have long had the greatest share of
it; you now engross it. The moment is now decisive; the piece is going to
be exhibited to the public; the mere out lines and the general coloring
are not sufficient to attract the eyes and to secure applause; but the
last finishing, artful, and delicate strokes are necessary. Skillful
judges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the ignorant will,
without knowing why, feel their power. In that view, I have thrown
together, for your perusal, some maxims; or, to speak more properly,
observations on men and things; for I have no merit as to the invention:
I am no system monger; and, instead of giving way to my imagination, I
have only consulted my memory; and my conclusions are all drawn from
facts, not from fancy. Most maxim mongers have preferred the prettiness
to the justness of a thought, and the turn to the truth; but I have
refused myself to everything that my own experience did not justify and
confirm. I wish you would consider them seriously, and separately, and
recur to them again ‘pro re nata’ in similar cases. Young men are as apt
to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselves
sober enough. They look upon spirit to be a much better thing than
experience; which they call coldness. They are but half mistaken; for
though spirit, without experience, is dangerous, experience, without
spirit, is languid and defective. Their union, which is very rare, is
perfection; you may join them, if you please; for all my experience is at
your service; and I do not desire one grain of your spirit in return. Use
them both, and let them reciprocally animate and check each other. I mean
here, by the spirit of youth, only the vivacity and presumption of youth,
which hinder them from seeing the difficulties or dangers of an
undertaking, but I do not mean what the silly vulgar call spirit, by
which they are captious, jealous of their rank, suspicious of being
undervalued, and tart (as they call it) in their repartees, upon the
slightest occasions. This is an evil, and a very silly spirit, which
should be driven out, and transferred to an herd of swine. This is not
the spirit of a man of fashion, who has kept good company. People of an
ordinary, low education, when they happen to fail into good company,
imagine themselves the only object of its attention; if the company
whispers, it is, to be sure, concerning them; if they laugh, it is at
them; and if anything ambiguous, that by the most forced interpretation
can be applied to them, happens to be said, they are convinced that it
was meant at them; upon which they grow out of countenance first, and
then angry. This mistake is very well ridiculed in the “Stratagem,” where
Scrub says, I AM SURE THEY TALKED OF ME FOR THEY LAUGHED CONSUMEDLY. A
well-bred man seldom thinks, but never seems to think himself slighted,
undervalued, or laughed at in company, unless where it is so plainly
marked out, that his honor obliges him to resent it in a proper manner;
‘mais les honnetes gens ne se boudent jamais’. I will admit that it is
very difficult to command one’s self enough, to behave with ease,
frankness, and good-breeding toward those, who one knows dislike, slight,
and injure one, as far as they can, without personal consequences; but I
assert that it is absolutely necessary to do it: you must embrace the man
you hate, if you cannot be justified in knocking him down; for otherwise
you avow the injury which you cannot revenge. A prudent cuckold (and
there are many such at Paris) pockets his horns when he cannot gore with
them; and will not add to the triumph of his maker by only butting with
them ineffectually. A seeming ignorance is very often a most necessary
part of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly advisable to
seem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and when they say, Have
you not heard of such a thing? to answer No, and to let them go on;
though you know it already. Some have a pleasure in telling it, because
they think that they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as being
the sagacious discoverers; and many have a vanity in showing that they
have been, though very undeservedly, trusted; all these would be
disappointed, and consequently displeased, if you said Yes. Seem always
ignorant (unless to one’s most intimate friend) of all matters of private
scandal and defamation, though you should hear them a thousand times; for
the parties affected always look upon the receiver to be almost as bad as
the thief: and, whenever they become the topic of conversation seem to be
a skeptic, though you are really a serious believer; and always take the
extenuating part. But all this seeming ignorance should be joined to
thorough and extensive private informations: and, indeed, it is the best
method of procuring them; for most people have such a vanity in showing a
superiority over others, though but for a moment, and in the merest
trifles, that they will tell you what they should not, rather than not
show that they can tell what you did not know; besides that such seeming
ignorance will make you pass for incurious and consequently undesigning.
However, fish for facts, and take pains to be well informed of everything
that passes; but fish judiciously, and not always, nor indeed often, in
the shape of direct questions, which always put people upon their guard,
and, often repeated, grow tiresome. But sometimes take the things that
you would know for granted; upon which somebody will, kindly and
officiously, set you right: sometimes say that you have heard so and so;
and at other times seem to know more than you do, in order to know all
that you want; but avoid direct questioning as much as you can. All these
necessary arts of the world require constant attention, presence of mind,
and coolness. Achilles, though invulnerable, never went to battle but
completely armed. Courts are to be the theatres of your wars, where you
should be always as completely armed, and even with the addition of a
heel-piece. The least inattention, the least DISTRACTION, may prove
fatal. I would fain see you what pedants call ‘omnis homo’, and what Pope
much better calls ALL-ACCOMPLISHED: you have the means in your power; add
the will; and you may bring it about. The vulgar have a coarse saying, of
SPOILING A SHIP FOR A HALFPENNY WORTH OF TAR; prevent the application by
providing the tar: it is very easily to be had in comparison with what
you have already got.
The fine Mrs. Pitt, who it seems saw you often at Paris, speaking of you
the other day, said, in French, for she speaks little English, . . .
whether it is that you did not pay the homage due to her beauty, or that
it did not strike you as it does others, I cannot determine; but I hope
she had some other reason than truth for saying it. I will suppose that
you did not care a pin for her; but, however, she surely deserved a
degree of propitiatory adoration from you, which I am afraid you
neglected. Had I been in your case, I should have endeavored, at least,
to have supplanted Mr. Mackay in his office of nocturnal reader to her. I
played at cards, two days ago, with your friend Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her
most sublime mother, Mrs. Seagrave; they both inquired after you; and
Mrs. Fitzgerald said, she hoped you went on with your dancing; I said,
Yes, and that you assured me, you had made such considerable improvements
in it, that you had now learned to stand still, and even upright. Your
‘virtuosa’, la Signora Vestri, sung here the other day, with great
applause: I presume you are INTIMATELY acquainted with her merit. Good
night to you, whoever you pass it with.
I have this moment received a packet, sealed with your seal, though not
directed by your hand, for Lady Hervey. No letter from you! Are you not
well?