LONDON, February 12, 1754.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I take my aim, and let off this letter at you at Berlin;
I should be sorry it missed you, because I believe you will read it with
as much pleasure as I write it. It is to inform you, that, after some
difficulties and dangers, your seat in the new parliament is at last
absolutely secured, and that without opposition, or the least necessity
of your personal trouble or appearance. This success, I must further
inform you, is in a great degree owing to Mr. Eliot’s friendship to us
both; for he brings you in with himself at his surest borough. As it was
impossible to act with more zeal and friendship than Mr. Eliot has acted
in this whole affair, I desire that you will, by the very next post,
write him a letter of thanks, warm and young thanks, not old and cold
ones. You may inclose it in yours to me, and, I will send it to him, for
he is now in Cornwall.
Thus, sure of being a senator, I dare say you do not propose to be one of
the ‘pedarii senatores, et pedibus ire in sententiam; for, as the House
of Commons is the theatre where you must make your fortune and figure in
the world, you must resolve to be an actor, and not a ‘persona muta’,
which is just equivalent to a candle snuffer upon other theatres. Whoever
does not shine there, is obscure, insignificant and contemptible; and you
cannot conceive how easy it is for a man of half your sense and knowledge
to shine there if he pleases. The receipt to make a speaker, and an
applauded one too, is short and easy.--Take of common sense ‘quantum
sufcit’, add a little application to the rules and orders of the House,
throw obvious thoughts in a new light, and make up the whole with a large
quantity of purity, correctness, and elegance of style. Take it for
granted, that by far the greatest part of mankind do neither analyze nor
search to the bottom; they are incapable of penetrating deeper than the
surface. All have senses to be gratified, very few have reason to be
applied to. Graceful utterance and action please their eyes, elegant
diction tickles their ears; but strong reason would be thrown away upon
them. I am not only persuaded by theory, but convinced by my experience,
that (supposing a certain degree of common sense) what is called a good
speaker is as much a mechanic as a good shoemaker; and that the two
trades are equally to be learned by the same degree of application.
Therefore, for God’s sake, let this trade be the principal object of your
thoughts; never lose sight of it. Attend minutely to your style, whatever
language you speak or write in; seek for the best words, and think of the
best turns. Whenever you doubt of the propriety or elegance of any word,
search the dictionary or some good author for it, or inquire of somebody,
who is master of that language; and, in a little time, propriety and
elegance of diction will become so habitual to you, that they will cost
you no more trouble. As I have laid this down to be mechanical and
attainable by whoever will take the necessary pains, there will be no
great vanity in my saying, that I saw the importance of the object so
early, and attended to it so young, that it would now cost me more
trouble to speak or write ungrammatically, vulgarly, and inelegantly,
than ever it did to avoid doing so. The late Lord Bolingbroke, without
the least trouble, talked all day long, full as elegantly as he wrote.
Why? Not by a peculiar gift from heaven; but, as he has often told me
himself, by an early and constant attention to his style. The present
Solicitor-General, Murray,--[Created Lord Mansfield in the year
1756.]--has less law than many lawyers, but has more practice than any;
merely upon account of his eloquence, of which he has a never-failing
stream. I remember so long ago as when I was at Cambridge, whenever I
read pieces of eloquence (and indeed they were my chief study) whether
ancient or modern, I used to write down the shining passages, and then
translate them, as well and as elegantly as ever I could; if Latin or
French, into English; if English, into French. This, which I practiced
for some years, not only improved and formed my style, but imprinted in
my mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors. The trouble was
little, but the advantage I have experienced was great. While you are
abroad, you can neither have time nor opportunity to read pieces of
English or parliamentary eloquence, as I hope you will carefully do when
you return; but, in the meantime, whenever pieces of French eloquence
come in your way, such as the speeches of persons received into the
Academy, ‘orasions funebres’, representations of the several parliaments
to the King, etc., read them in that view, in that spirit; observe the
harmony, the turn and elegance of the style; examine in what you think it
might have been better; and consider in what, had you written it
yourself; you might have done worse. Compare the different manners of
expressing the same thoughts in different authors; and observe how
differently the same things appear in different dresses. Vulgar, coarse,
and ill-chosen words, will deform and degrade the best thoughts as much
as rags and dirt will the best figure. In short, you now know your
object; pursue it steadily, and have no digressions that are not relative
to, and connected with, the main action. Your success in parliament will
effectually remove all OTHER OBJECTIONS; either a foreign or a domestic
destination will no longer be refused you, if you make your way to it
through Westminster.
I think I may now say, that I am quite recovered from my late illness,
strength and spirits excepted, which are not yet restored.
Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa will, I believe, answer all my purposes.
I long to hear an account of your reception at Berlin, which I fancy will
be a most gracious one. Adieu.