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<h2> LETTER XLIII </h2>
<h3> LONDON, July 1, O. S. 1748. </h3>
<p>DEAR Boy: I am extremely well pleased with the course of studies which Mr.
Harte informs me you are now in, and with the degree of application which
he assures me you have to them. It is your interest to do so, as the
advantage will be all your own. My affection for you makes me both wish
and endeavor that you may turn out well; and, according as you do turn
out, I shall either be proud or ashamed of you. But as to mere interest,
in the common acceptation of that word, it would be mine that you should
turn out ill; for you may depend upon it, that whatever you have from me
shall be most exactly proportioned to your desert. Deserve a great deal,
and you shall have a great deal; deserve a little, and you shall have but
a little; and be good for nothing at all, and, I assure you, you shall
have nothing at all.</p>
<p>Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and great
foundation of your future fortune and character; for I never mention to
you the two much greater points of Religion and Morality, because I cannot
possibly suspect you as to either of them. This solid knowledge you are in
a fair way of acquiring; you may, if you please; and I will add, that
nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their power than you
have. But remember, that manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way
through the world. Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a
closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value; but it will
never be worn or shine if it is not polished. It is upon this article, I
confess, that I suspect you the most, which makes me recur to it so often;
for I fear that you are apt to show too little attention to everybody, and
too much contempt to many. Be convinced, that there are no persons so
insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, some time or other, have it in
their power to be of use to you; which they certainly will not, if you
have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven; but contempt
never is. Our pride remembers it forever. It implies a discovery of
weaknesses, which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a
man will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never knew a man who
would tell his silly weaknesses to his most intimate one—as many a
friend will tell us our faults without reserve, who will not so much as
hint at our follies; that discovery is too mortifying to our self-love,
either to tell another, or to be told of one's self. You must, therefore,
never expect to hear of your weaknesses, or your follies, from anybody but
me; those I will take pains to discover, and whenever I do, shall tell you
of them.</p>
<p>Next to manners are exterior graces of person and address, which adorn
manners, as manners adorn knowledge. To say that they please, engage, and
charm, as they most indisputably do, is saying that one should do
everything possible to acquire them. The graceful manner of speaking is,
particularly, what I shall always holloa in your ears, as Hotspur holloaed
MORTIMER to Henry IV., and, like him too, I have aimed to have a starling
taught to say, SPEAK DISTINCTLY AND GRACEFULLY, and send him you, to
replace your loss of the unfortunate Matzel, who, by the way, I am told,
spoke his language very distinctly and gracefully.</p>
<p>As by this time you must be able to write German tolerably well, I desire
that you will not fail to write a German letter, in the German character,
once every fortnight, to Mr. Grevenkop: which will make it more familiar
to you, and enable me to judge how you improve in it.</p>
<p>Do not forget to answer me the questions, which I asked you a great while
ago, in relation to the constitution of Saxony; and also the meaning of
the words 'Landsassii and Amptsassii'.</p>
<p>I hope you do not forget to inquire into the affairs of trade and
commerce, nor to get the best accounts you can of the commodities and
manufactures, exports and imports of the several countries where you may
be, and their gross value.</p>
<p>I would likewise have you attend to the respective coins, gold, silver,
copper, etc., and their value, compared with our coin's; for which purpose
I would advise you to put up, in a separate piece of paper, one piece of
every kind, wherever you shall be, writing upon it the name and the value.
Such a collection will be curious enough in itself; and that sort of
knowledge will be very useful to you in your way of business, where the
different value of money often comes in question.</p>
<p>I am doing to Cheltenham to-morrow, less for my health; which is pretty
good, than for the dissipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stay
about a fortnight.</p>
<p>L'Abbe Mably's 'Droit de l'Europe', which Mr. Harte is so kind as to send
me, is worth your reading. Adieu.</p>
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<h2> LETTER XLIV. </h2>
<h3> CHELTENHAM, July 6, O. S. 1748. </h3>
<p>DEAR BOY: Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney,—[Only child of the
Right Hon. William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. He died before his father.]—set
out last week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipsig soon after
this letter: you will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do
him any service that you can while you stay there; let him know that I
wrote to you to do so. As being older, he should know more than you; in
that case, take pains to get up to him; but if he does not, take care not
to let him feel his inferiority. He will find it out of himself without
your endeavors; and that cannot be helped: but nothing is more insulting,
more mortifying and less forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a
man feel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, etc. In the
two last articles, it is unjust, they not being in his power: and in the
first it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding, and good-nature,
do incline us rather to raise and help people up to ourselves, than to
mortify and depress them, and, in truth, our own private interest concurs
in it, as it is making ourselves so many friends, instead of so many
enemies. The constant practice of what the French call 'les Attentions',
is a most necessary ingredient in the art of pleasing; they flatter the
self-love of those to whom they are shown; they engage, they captivate,
more than things of much greater importance. The duties of social life
every man is obliged to discharge; but these attentions are voluntary
acts, the free-will offerings of good-breeding and good nature; they are
received, remembered, and returned as such. Women, particularly, have a
right to them; and any omission in that respect is downright ill-breeding.</p>
<p>Do you employ your whole time in the most useful manner? I do not mean, do
you study all day long? nor do I require it. But I mean, do you make the
most of the respective allotments of your time? While you study, is it
with attention? When you divert yourself, is it with spirit? Your
diversions may, if you please, employ some part of your time very
usefully. It depends entirely upon the nature of them. If they are futile
and frivolous it is time worse than lost, for they will give you an habit
of futility. All gaming, field-sports, and such sort of amusements, where
neither the understanding nor the senses have the least share, I look upon
as frivolous, and as the resources of little minds, who either do not
think, or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of parts either
flatter the senses or improve the mind; I hope at least, that there is not
one minute of the day in which you do nothing at all. Inaction at your age
is unpardonable.</p>
<p>Tell me what Greek and Latin books you can now read with ease. Can you
open Demosthenes at a venture, and understand him? Can you get through an
"Oration" of Cicero, or a "Satire" of Horace, without difficulty? What
German books do you read, to make yourself master of that language? And
what French books do you read for your amusement? Pray give me a
particular and true account of all this; for I am not indifferent as to
any one thing that relates to you. As, for example, I hope you take great
care to keep your whole person, particularly your mouth, very clean;
common decency requires it, besides that great cleanliness is very
conducive to health. But if you do not keep your mouth excessively clean,
by washing it carefully every morning, and after every meal, it will not
only be apt to smell, which is very disgusting and indecent, but your
teeth will decay and ache, which is both a great loss and a great pain. A
spruceness of dress is also very proper and becoming at your age; as the
negligence of it implies an indifference about pleasing, which does not
become a young fellow. To do whatever you do at all to the utmost
perfection, ought to be your aim at this time of your life; if you can
reach perfection, so much the better; but at least, by attempting it, you
will get much nearer than if you never attempted it at all.</p>
<p>Adieu! SPEAK GRACEFULLY AND DISTINCTLY if you intend to converse ever
with, Yours.</p>
<p>P. S. As I was making up my letter, I received yours of the 6th, O. S. I
like your dissertation upon Preliminary Articles and Truces. Your
definitions of both are true. Those are matters which I would have you be
master of; they belong to your future department, But remember too, that
they are matters upon which you will much oftener have occasion to speak
than to write; and that, consequently, it is full as necessary to speak
gracefully and distinctly upon them as to write clearly and elegantly. I
find no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the moderns, for
indistinct and unintelligible utterance. The Oracles indeed meant to be
obscure; but then it was by the ambiguity of the expression, and not by
the inarticulation of the words. For if people had not thought, at least,
they understood them, they would neither have frequented nor presented
them as they did. There was likewise among the ancients, and is still
among the moderns, a sort of people called Ventriloqui, who speak from
their bellies, on make the voice seem to come from some other part of the
room than that where they are. But these Ventriloqui speak very distinctly
and intelligibly. The only thing, then, that I can find like a precedent
for your way of speaking (and I would willingly help you to one if I
could) is the modern art 'de persifler', practiced with great success by
the 'Petits maitres' at Paris. This noble art consists in picking out some
grave, serious man, who neither understands nor expects, raillery, and
talking to him very quick, and inarticulate sounds; while the man, who
thinks that he did not hear well; or attend sufficiently, says, 'Monsieur?
or 'Plait-il'? a hundred times; which affords matter of much mirth to
those ingenious gentlemen. Whether you would follow, this precedent, I
submit to you.</p>
<p>Have you carried no English or French comedies of tragedies with you to
Leipsig? If you have, I insist upon your reciting some passages of them
every day to Mr. Harte in the most distinct and graceful manner, as if you
were acting them upon a stage.</p>
<p>The first part of my letter is more than an answer to your questions
concerning Lord Pulteney.</p>
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