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<h2> LETTER CXXVIII </h2>
<h3> LONDON, January 21, O. S.. 1751 </h3>
<p>MY DEAR FRIEND: In all my letters from Paris, I have the pleasure of
finding, among many other good things, your docility mentioned with
emphasis; this is the sure way of improving in those things, which you
only want. It is true they are little, but it is as true too that they are
necessary things. As they are mere matters of usage and mode, it is no
disgrace for anybody of your age to be ignorant of them; and the most
compendious way of learning them is, fairly to avow your ignorance, and to
consult those who, from long usage and experience, know them best. Good
sense and good-nature suggest civility in general; but, in good-breeding
there are a thousand little delicacies, which are established only by
custom; and it is these little elegances of manners which distinguish a
courtier and a man of fashion from the vulgar. I am assured by different
people, that your air is already much improved; and one of my
correspondents makes you the true French compliment of saying, 'F'ose vous
promettre qu'il sera bientot comme un de nos autres'. However unbecoming
this speech may be in the mouth of a Frenchman, I am very glad that they
think it applicable to you; for I would have you not only adopt, but
rival, the best manners and usages of the place you are at, be they what
they will; that is the versatility of manners which is so useful in the
course of the world. Choose your models well at Paris, and then rival them
in their own way. There are fashionable words, phrases, and even gestures,
at Paris, which are called 'du bon ton'; not to mention 'certaines Petites
politesses et attentions, qui ne sont rien en elle-memes', which fashion
has rendered necessary. Make yourself master of all these things; and to
such a degree, as to make the French say, 'qu'on diroit que c'est un
Francois'; and when hereafter you shall be at other courts, do the same
thing there; and conform to the fashionable manners and usage of the
place; that is what the French themselves are not apt to do; wherever they
go, they retain their own manners, as thinking them the best; but,
granting them to be so, they are still in the wrong not to conform to
those of the place. One would desire to please, wherever one is; and
nothing is more innocently flattering than an approbation, and an
imitation of the people one converses with.</p>
<p>I hope your colleges with Marcel go on prosperously. In these ridiculous,
though, at the same time, really important lectures, pray attend, and
desire your professor also to attend, more particularly to the chapter of
the arms. It is they that decide of a man's being genteel or otherwise,
more than any other part of the body. A twist or stiffness in the wrist,
will make any man in Europe look awkward. The next thing to be attended to
is, your coming into a room, and presenting yourself to a company. This
gives the first impression; and the first impression is often a lasting
one. Therefore, pray desire Professor Marcel to make you come in and go
out of his room frequently, and in the supposition of different companies
being there; such as ministers, women, mixed companies, etc. Those who
present themselves well, have a certain dignity in their air, which,
without the least seeming mixture of pride, at once engages, and is
respected.</p>
<p>I should not so often repeat, nor so long dwell upon such trifles, with
anybody that had less solid and valuable knowledge than you have.
Frivolous people attend to those things, 'par preference'; they know
nothing else; my fear with you is, that, from knowing better things, you
should despise these too much, and think them of much less consequence
than they really are; for they are of a great deal, and more especially to
you.</p>
<p>Pleasing and governing women may, in time, be of great service to you.
They often please and govern others. 'A propos', are you in love with
Madame de Berkenrode still, or has some other taken her place in your
affections? I take it for granted, that 'qua to cumque domat Venus, non
erubescendis adurit ignibus. Un arrangement honnete sied bien a un galant
homme'. In that case I recommend to you the utmost discretion, and the
profoundest silence. Bragging of, hinting at, intimating, or even
affectedly disclaiming and denying such an arrangement will equally
discredit you among men and women. An unaffected silence upon that subject
is the only true medium.</p>
<p>In your commerce with women, and indeed with men too, 'une certaine
douceur' is particularly engaging; it is that which constitutes that
character which the French talk of so much, and so justly value, I mean
'l'aimable'. This 'douceur' is not so easily described as felt. It is the
compound result of different things; a complaisance, a flexibility, but
not a servility of manners; an air of softness in the countenance,
gesture, and expression, equally whether you concur or differ with the
person you converse with. Observe those carefully who have that 'douceur'
that charms you and others; and your own good sense will soon enable you
to discover the different ingredients of which it is composed. You must be
more particularly attentive to this 'douceur', whenever you are obliged to
refuse what is asked of you, or to say what in itself cannot be very
agreeable to those to whom you say it. It is then the necessary gilding of
a disagreeable pill. 'L'aimable' consists in a thousand of these little
things aggregately. It is the 'suaviter in modo', which I have so often
recommended to you. The respectable, Mr. Harte assures me, you do not
want, and I believe him. Study, then, carefully; and acquire perfectly,
the 'Aimable', and you will have everything.</p>
<p>Abbe Guasco, who is another of your panegyrists, writes me word that he
has taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain's; where you will be
welcome as often as you please, and the oftener the better. Profit of
that, upon the principle of traveling in different countries, without
changing places. He says, too, that he will take you to the parliament,
when any remarkable cause is to be tried. That is very well; go through
the several chambers of the parliament, and see and hear what they are
doing; join practice and observation to your theoretical knowledge of
their rights and privileges. No Englishman has the least notion of them.</p>
<p>I need not recommend you to go to the bottom of the constitutional and
political knowledge of countries; for Mr. Harte tells me that you have a
peculiar turn that way, and have informed yourself most correctly of them.</p>
<p>I must now put some queries to you, as to a 'juris publici peritus', which
I am sure you can answer me, and which I own I cannot answer myself; they
are upon a subject now much talked of.</p>
<p>1st. Are there any particular forms requisite for the election of a King
of the Romans, different from those which are necessary for the election
of an Emperor?</p>
<p>2d. Is not a King of the Romans as legally elected by the votes of a
majority of the electors, as by two-thirds, or by the unanimity of the
electors?</p>
<p>3d. Is there any particular law or constitution of the empire, that
distinguishes, either in matter or in, form, the election of a King of the
Romans from that of an Emperor? And is not the golden bull of Charles the
Fourth equally the rule for both?</p>
<p>4th. Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the electors (I
have forgotten when), some rules and limitations agreed upon concerning
the election of a King of the Romans? And were those restrictions legal,
and did they obtain the force of law?</p>
<p>How happy am I, my dear child, that I can apply to you for knowledge, and
with a certainty of being rightly informed! It is knowledge, more than
quick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business. A man who is master of
his matter, twill, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, and
indeed anywhere else, for a man of-better parts, who knows his subject but
superficially: and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and elocution,
he must necessarily soon be at the head of that assembly; but without
those two, no knowledge is sufficient.</p>
<p>Lord Huntingdon writes me word that he has seen you, and that you have
renewed your old school-acquaintance.</p>
<p>Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormount: and
also of the other English people of fashion you meet with. I promise you
inviolable secrecy on my part. You and I must now write to each other
—as friends, and without the least reserve; there will for the
future be a thousand-things in my letters, which I would not have any
mortal living but yourself see or know. Those you will easily distinguish,
and neither show nor repeat; and I will do the same by you.</p>
<p>To come to another subject (for I have a pleasure in talking over every
subject with you): How deep are you in Italian? Do you understand Ariosto,
Tasso, Boccaccio and Machiavelli? If you do, you know enough of it and may
know all the rest, by reading, when you have time. Little or no business
is written in Italian, except in Italy; and if you know enough of it to
understand the few Italian letters that may in time come in your way, and
to speak Italian tolerably to those very few Italians who speak no French,
give yourself no further trouble about that language till you happen to
have full leisure to perfect yourself in it. It is not the same with
regard to German; your speaking and writing it well, will particularly
distinguish you from every other man in England; and is, moreover, of
great use to anyone who is, as probably you will be, employed in the
Empire. Therefore, pray cultivate them sedulously, by writing four or five
lines of German every day, and by speaking it to every German you meet
with.</p>
<p>You have now got a footing in a great many good houses at Paris, in which
I advise you to make yourself domestic. This is to be done by a certain
easiness of carriage, and a decent familiarity. Not by way of putting
yourself upon the frivolous footing of being 'sans consequence', but by
doing in some degree, the honors of the house and table, calling yourself
'en badinant le galopin d'ici', saying to the masters or mistress, 'ceci
est de mon departement; je m'en charge; avouez, que je m'en acquitte a
merveille.' This sort of 'badinage' has something engaging and 'liant' in
it, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable and
useful to establish in good houses and with people of fashion. Mere formal
visits, dinners, and suppers, upon formal invitations, are not the thing;
they add to no connection nor information; but it is the easy, careless
ingress and egress at all hours, that forms the pleasing and profitable
commerce of life.</p>
<p>The post is so negligent, that I lose some letters from Paris entirely,
and receive others much later than I should. To this I ascribe my having
received no letter from you for above a fortnight, which to my impatience
seems a long time. I expect to hear from you once a-week. Mr. Harte is
gone to Cornwall, and will be back in about three weeks. I have a packet
of books to send you by the first opportunity, which I believe will be Mr.
Yorke's return to Paris. The Greek books come from Mr. Harte, and the
English ones from your humble servant. Read Lord Bolingbroke's with great
attention, as well to the style as to the matter. I wish you could form
yourself such a style in every language. Style is the dress of thoughts;
and a well-dressed thought, like a well-dressed man, appears to great
advantage. Yours. Adieu.</p>
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