VIRTUE DISCOURAGED.--If six hundred citizens of Athens gave in the
name of any one Athenian, written upon an oyster-shell (from whence
it is called ostracism), that man was banished Athens for ten years.
On one hand, it is certain, that a free people cannot be too careful
or jealous of their liberty; and it is certain, too, that the love
and applause of mankind will always attend a man of eminent and
distinguished virtue; and, consequently, they are more likely to give
up their liberties to such-a-one than to another of less merit. But
then, on the other hand, it seems extraordinary to discourage virtue
upon any account; since it is only by virtue that any society can
flourish, and be considerable. There are many more arguments, on each
side of this question, which will naturally occur to you; and when you
have considered them well, I desire you will write me your opinion,
whether the ostracism was a right or a wrong thing, and your reasons
for being of that opinion. Let nobody help you, and give me exactly
your own sentiments and your own reasons, whatever they are. [_October,
1740._]
AMBITION.--Everybody has ambition of some kind or other, and is
vexed when that ambition is disappointed; the difference is, that
the ambition of silly people is a silly and mistaken ambition; and
the ambition of people of sense is a right and commendable one. For
instance, the ambition of a silly boy, of your age, would be to have
fine clothes, and money to throw away in idle follies; which, you
plainly see, would be no proofs of merit in him, but only of folly in
his parents, in dressing him out like a jackanapes, and giving him
money to play the fool with. Whereas a boy of good sense places his
ambition in excelling other boys of his own age, and even older, in
virtue and knowledge. His glory is in being known always to speak the
truth, in showing good nature and compassion, in learning quicker,
and applying himself more than other boys. These are real proofs of
merit in him, and consequently proper objects of ambition; and will
acquire him a solid reputation and character. This holds true in men
as well as in boys; the ambition of a silly fellow will be to have a
fine equipage, a fine house, and fine clothes; things which anybody,
that has as much money, may have as well as he; _for they are all
to be bought_; but the ambition of a man of sense and honor is to
be distinguished by a character and reputation of knowledge, truth,
and virtue--things which are not to be bought, and that can only be
acquired by a good head and a good heart. [_Not dated._]
HUMANITY.--It is certain that humanity is the particular
_characteristic_ of a great mind; little, vicious minds are full of
anger and revenge, and are incapable of feeling the _exalted_ pleasure
of forgiving their enemies, and of bestowing marks of favor and
generosity upon those of whom they have gotten the better. Adieu![22]
NOVELS AND ROMANCES.--A novel is a kind of abbreviation of a romance;
for a romance generally consists of twelve volumes, all filled with
insipid love nonsense, and most incredible adventures. The subject of
a romance is sometimes a story entirely fictitious, that is to say,
quite invented; at other times a true story, but generally so changed
and altered that one cannot know it. For example: in “Grand Cyrus,”
“Clelia,” and “Cleopatra,” three celebrated romances, there is some
true history; but so blended with falsities and silly love adventures,
that they confuse and corrupt the mind, instead of forming and
instructing it. The greatest heroes of antiquity are there represented
in woods and forests, whining insipid love tales to their inhuman fair
one; who answers them in the same style. In short, the reading of
romances is a most frivolous occupation, and time merely thrown away.
[The little boy was then reading the historical novel of “Don Carlos,”
by the Abbé de St. Real. (_Not dated._)]
VIRTUE.--Virtue is a subject that deserves your and every man’s
attention; and suppose I were to bid you make some verses, or give
me your thoughts in prose, upon the subject of virtue, how would you
go about it? Why, you would first consider what virtue is, and then
what are the effects and marks of it, both with regard to others and
one’s self. You would find, then, that virtue consists in doing good,
and in speaking truth; and that the effects of it are advantageous to
all mankind, and to one’s self in particular. Virtue makes us pity
and relieve the misfortunes of mankind; it makes us promote justice
and good order in society; and, in general, contributes to whatever
tends to the real good of mankind. To ourselves it gives an inward
comfort and satisfaction which nothing else can do, and which nothing
can rob us of. All other advantages depend upon others, as much as
upon ourselves. Riches, power, and greatness may be taken away from us
by the violence and injustice of others or inevitable accidents, but
virtue depends only on ourselves and nobody can take it away. [_Headed
only Sunday._]
THE REWARD OF VIRTUE.--If a virtuous man be ever so poor or unfortunate
in the world, still his virtue is his own reward and will comfort him
under his afflictions. The quiet and satisfaction of his conscience
make him cheerful by day and sleep sound of nights; he can be alone
with pleasure and is not afraid of his own thoughts. Besides this, he
is esteemed and respected; for even the most wicked people themselves
cannot help admiring and respecting virtue in others. A poet says:
“Ipsa quidem virtus, sibimet pulcherrima merces.”[23]
POLITENESS A NECESSITY.--Know, then, that as learning, honor, and
virtue are absolutely necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration
of mankind; politeness and good breeding are equally necessary, to
make you welcome and agreeable in conversation and common life. Great
talents, such as honor, virtue, learning, and parts, are above the
generality of the world; who neither possess them themselves, nor judge
of them rightly in others; but all people are judges of the lesser
talents, such as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable
address and manner; because they feel the good effects of them, as
making society easy and pleasing.
GOOD BREEDING AND GOOD SENSE.--Good sense must, in many cases,
determine good breeding; because the same thing that would be civil
at one time, and to one person, may be quite otherwise at another
time, and to another person; but there are some general rules of good
breeding, that hold always true, and in all cases. [_About February,
1741._]
RUDENESS AND CIVILITY.--I dare say I need not tell you how rude it
is, to take the best place in a room, or to seize immediately upon
what you like at table, without offering first to help others; as
if you consider nobody but yourself. On the contrary, you should
always endeavor to procure all the conveniences you can to the people
you are with. Besides being civil, which is absolutely necessary,
the perfection of good breeding is, to be civil with ease, and in a
gentlemanlike manner. For this, you should observe the French people;
who excel in it, and whose politeness seems as easy and natural as any
other part of their conversation. Whereas the English are often awkward
in their civilities, and, when they mean to be civil, are too much
ashamed to get it out.
MAUVAISE HONTE.--Pray, do you remember never to be ashamed of doing
what is right; you would have a great deal of reason to be ashamed,
if you were not civil; but what reason can you have to be ashamed of
being civil? And why not say a civil and an obliging thing, as easily
and as naturally, as you would ask what o’clock it is? This kind of
bashfulness, which is justly called, by the French, _mauvaise honte_,
is the distinguishing character of an English booby; who is frightened
out of his wits when people of fashion speak to him; and when he is to
answer them, blushes, stammers, can hardly get out what he would say,
and becomes really ridiculous, from a groundless fear of being laughed
at; whereas a well bred man would speak to all the kings in the world
with as little concern and as much ease as he would speak to you.
YOUTHFUL EMULATION.--This is the last letter I shall write to you
as to a little boy; for, to-morrow, if I am not mistaken, you will
attain your ninth year; so that for the future I shall treat you as a
_youth_. You must now commence a different course of life, a different
course of studies. No more levity; childish toys and playthings must
be thrown aside, and your mind directed to serious objects. What was
not unbecoming of a child would be disgraceful to a youth. Wherefore,
endeavor, with all your might, to show a suitable change; and, by
learning, good manners, politeness, and other accomplishments, to
surpass those youths of your own age, whom hitherto you have surpassed
when boys.[24] May the Almighty preserve you and bestow on you his
choicest blessings.
TRUE RESPECT.--The strictest and most scrupulous honor and virtue can
alone make you esteemed and valued by mankind; [remember] that parts
and learning can alone make you admired and celebrated by them; but
that the possession of lesser talents is most absolutely necessary,
toward making you liked, beloved, and sought after in private life. Of
these lesser talents, good breeding is the principal and most necessary
one, not only as it is very important itself; but as it adds great
lustre to the more solid advantages both of the heart and the mind.
MANNER.--An easy manner and carriage must be wholly free from those
odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardnesses, which even very worthy and
sensible people have in their behavior. [_May, 1741._]
MANNER--ABSENCE--AWKWARDNESS--ATTENTION.--However trifling a genteel
manner may sound, it is of very great consequence towards pleasing in
private life, especially the women; which (_sic_), one time or other,
you will think worth pleasing; and I have known many a man, from his
awkwardness, give people such a dislike of him at first, that all his
merit could not get the better of it afterwards. Whereas a genteel
manner prepossesses people in your favor, bends them towards you and
makes them wish to like you. Awkwardness can proceed but from two
causes: either from not having kept good company, or from not having
attended to it. As for your keeping good company, I will take care of
that; do you take care to observe their ways and manners, and to form
your own upon them. Attention is absolutely necessary for this, as,
indeed, it is for everything else; and a man without attention is not
fit to live in the world. When an awkward fellow first comes into a
room it is highly probable that his sword gets between his legs, and
throws him down, or makes him stumble at least; when he has recovered
this accident, he goes and places himself in the very place of the
whole room where he should not; there he soon lets his hat fall down,
and, in taking it up again, throws down his cane; in recovering his
cane, his hat falls a second time; so that he is a quarter of an hour
before he is in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he certainly
scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or the saucer fall, and
spills the tea or coffee in his breeches. At dinner his awkwardness
distinguishes itself particularly, as he has more to do; there he
holds his knife, fork, and spoon differently from other people; eats
with his knife to the great danger of his mouth, picks his teeth with
his fork, and puts his spoon, which has been in his throat twenty
times, into the dishes again. If he is to carve, he can never hit the
joint; but, in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the
sauce in everybody’s face. He generally daubs himself with soup and
grease, though his napkin is commonly stuck through a buttonhole, and
tickles his chin. When he drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glass
and besprinkles the company. Besides all this, he has strange tricks
and gestures; such as snuffing up his nose, making faces, putting
his fingers in his nose, or blowing it and looking afterward in his
handkerchief, so as to make the company sick. His hands are troublesome
to him when he has not something in them, and he does not know where to
put them; but they are in perpetual motion between his bosom and his
breeches; he does not wear his clothes, and, in short, does nothing
like other people. All this, I own, is not in any degree criminal; but
it is highly disagreeable and ridiculous in company, and ought most
carefully to be avoided by whoever desires to please.
From this account of what you should not do, you may easily judge what
you should do; and a due attention to the manners of people of fashion,
and who have seen the world, will make it habitual and familiar to you.
There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and words, most
carefully to be avoided; such as false English, bad pronunciation, old
sayings, and common proverbs; which are so many proofs of having kept
bad and low company. For example: if, instead of saying that tastes
are different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you should
let off a proverb, and say, “What is one man’s meat is another man’s
poison”; or else, “Every one as they like, as the good man said when he
kissed his cow”; everybody would be persuaded that you had never kept
company with anybody above footmen and housemaids.
Attention will do all this; and without attention nothing is to be
done; want of attention, which is really want of thought, is either
folly or madness. You should not only have attention to everything, but
a quickness of attention, so as to observe, at once, all the people
in the room; their motions, their looks, and their words; and yet
without staring at them, and seeming to be an observer. This quick and
unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, and is to be
acquired with care; and, on the contrary, what is called absence, which
is a thoughtlessness and want of attention about what is doing, makes
a man so like either a fool or a madman, that, for my part, I see no
real difference. A fool never has thought, a madman has lost it; and an
absent man is, for the time, without it.[25] [_Dated Spa, July 25, N.
S. 1741._]
TRUE PRAISE.--_Laudari a viro laudato_ was always a commendable
ambition; encourage that ambition and continue to deserve the praises
of the praiseworthy. While you do so you shall have everything you will
from me; and when you cease to do so you shall have nothing.
AN AWKWARD MIND.--I have warned you against odd motions, strange
postures, and ungenteel carriage. But there is likewise an
awkwardness of the mind that ought to be, and with care may be,
avoided; as, for instance, to mistake or forget names; to speak of
Mr. What-d’ye-call-him, or Mrs. Thingum, or How-d’ye-call-her, is
excessively awkward and ordinary. To call people by improper titles and
appellations is so, too; as my Lord for sir; and sir for my Lord. To
begin a story or narration, when you are not perfect in it, and cannot
go through with it, but are forced, possibly, to say in the middle of
it, “I have forgot the rest,” is very unpleasant and bungling. One
must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous in everything one
says, otherwise, instead of entertaining or informing others, one only
tires and puzzles them. The voice and manner of speaking, too, are
not to be neglected; some people almost shut their mouths when they
speak, and mutter so, that they are not to be understood; others speak
so fast and sputter so, that they are not to be understood neither;
some always speak as loud as if they were talking to deaf people; and
others so low that one cannot hear them. All these habits are awkward
and disagreeable; and are to be avoided by attention; they are the
distinguishing marks of the ordinary people, who have had no care taken
of their education. You cannot imagine how necessary it is to mind all
these little things; for I have seen many people with great talents
ill received, for want of having these talents, too; and others well
received only from their little talents, and who had no great ones.
ORATORY AND HARD WORK.--Demosthenes, the celebrated Greek orator,
thought it so absolutely necessary to speak well, that though he
naturally stuttered, and had weak lungs, he resolved, by application
and care, to get the better of those disadvantages. Accordingly, he
cured his stammering by putting small pebbles into his mouth; and
strengthened his lungs gradually, by using himself every day to speak
aloud and distinctly for a considerable time. He likewise went often
to the seashore, in stormy weather, when the sea made most noise, and
there spoke as loud as he could, in order to use himself to the noise
and murmurs of the popular assemblies of the Athenians, before whom he
was to speak. By such care, joined to the constant study of the best
authors, he became at last the greatest orator of his own or any other
age or country, though he was born without any one natural talent for
it. Adieu! Copy Demosthenes. [(?) _August, 1741._]
KEEP YOUR WORD.--I am sure you know that breaking of your word is a
folly, a dishonor, and a crime. It is a folly, because nobody will
trust you afterward; and it is both a dishonor and a crime, truth being
the first duty of religion and morality; and whoever has not truth
cannot be supposed to have any one good quality, and must become the
detestation of God and man. Therefore I expect, from your truth and
your honor, that you will do that, which independently of your promise,
your own interest and ambition ought to incline you to do; that is, to
excel in everything you undertake. When I was of your age, I should
have been ashamed if any boy of that age had learned his book better,
or played at any play better than I did; and I would not have rested a
moment till I had got before him. Julius Cæsar, who had a noble thirst
of glory, used to say that he would rather be the first in a village
than the second in Rome; and he even cried when he saw the statue
of Alexander the Great, with the reflection of how much more glory
Alexander had acquired, at thirty years old, than he at a much more
advanced age. These are the sentiments to make people considerable;
and those who have them not will pass their lives in obscurity and
contempt; whereas those who endeavor to excel all, are at least sure of
excelling a great many. [_June, 1742._]
GOOD BREEDING.--Though I need not tell one of your age,[26] experience,
and knowledge of the world, how necessary good breeding is, to
recommend one to mankind; yet, as your various occupations of Greek and
cricket, Latin and pitch-farthing, may possibly divert your attention
from this object, I take the liberty of reminding you of it, and
desiring you to be very well bred at Lord Orrery’s. It is good breeding
alone that can prepossess people in your favor at first sight; more
time being necessary to discover greater talents. This good breeding,
you know, does not consist in low bows and formal ceremony; but in an
easy, civil, and respectful behavior. You will therefore take care to
answer with complaisance, when you are spoken to; to place yourself at
the lower end of the table, unless bid to go higher; to drink first to
the lady of the house, and next to the master; not to eat awkwardly or
dirtily; not to sit when others stand; and to do all this with an air
of complaisance, and not with a grave, sour look, as if you did it at
all unwillingly. [_No date, Letter 70._]
LETTER WRITING.--Let your letter be written as accurately as you are
able--I mean with regard to language, grammar, and stops; for as to the
_matter_ of it the less trouble you give yourself the better it will
be. Letters should be easy and natural, and convey to the persons to
whom we send them, just what we should say to the persons if we were
with them. [_No date, Letter 72._]
THE RESULTS OF CARELESSNESS.--To this oscitancy we owe so many
mistakes, hiatus’s (_sic_), lacunæ, etc., in ancient manuscripts. It
may be here necessary to explain to you the meaning of the _oscitantes
librarii_; which I believe you will easily take. These persons (before
printing was invented) transcribed the works of authors, sometimes
for their own profit, but oftener (as they were generally slaves) for
the profit of their masters. In the first case, dispatch, more than
accuracy, was their object; for the faster they wrote the more they
got; in the latter case (observe this), as it was a task imposed on
them, which they did not dare to refuse, they were _idle, careless,
and incorrect; not giving themselves the trouble to read over what
they had written_. The celebrated Atticus kept a great number of these
transcribing slaves, and got great sums of money by their labors.
[_November, 1745._]
GREEK EPIGRAMS.--I hope you will keep company with Horace and Cicero
among the Romans; and Homer and Xenophon among the Greeks, and that you
have got out of the worst company in the world, the Greek epigrams.
Martial has wit and is worth your looking into sometimes, but I
recommend the Greek epigrams to your supreme contempt. Good-night to
you. [_Same date._]
DANCING TRIFLING.--Dancing is in itself a very trifling, silly thing;
but it is one of those established follies to which people of sense
are sometimes obliged to conform; and then they should be able to do
it well. And, though I would not have you a dancer, yet, when you do
dance, I would have you dance well, as I would have you do everything
you do, well. There is no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is to
be done at all) ought to be done well. And I have often told you that
I wished you even played at pitch and cricket better than any boy at
Westminster. For instance: dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it
is a very foolish thing for a man not to be well dressed, according to
his rank and way of life; and it is so far from being a disparagement
to any man’s understanding, that it is rather a proof of it, to be
as well dressed as those whom he lives with. The difference in this
case between a man of sense and a fop is, that the fop values himself
upon his dress; and the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time
that he knows he must not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish
customs of this kind, which not being criminal must be complied with,
and even cheerfully, by men of sense. Diogenes the cynic was a wise
man for despising them, but a fool for showing it. Be wiser than other
people if you can, but do not tell them so. [_Dublin Castle, Nov. 19,
1745._[27]]
THE PASSIONS.--Whenever you would persuade or prevail, address yourself
to the passions; it is by them that mankind is to be taken. Cæsar bade
his soldiers, at the battle of Pharsalia, aim at the faces of Pompey’s
men; they did so, and prevailed. I bid you strike at the passions; and
if you do, you, too, will prevail. If you can once engage people’s
pride, love, pity, ambition (or whichever is their prevailing passion)
on your side, you need not fear what their reason can do against you.
[_Same date._]