LETTER XCIX

LONDON, December 26, O. S. 1749.

MY DEAR FRIEND: The new year is the season in which custom seems more particularly to authorize civil and harmless lies, under the name of compliments. People reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form; and concern, which they seldom feel. This is not the case between you and me, where truth leaves no room for compliments.

'Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes', was said formerly to one by a man who certainly did not think it. With the variation of one word only, I will with great truth say it to you. I will make the first part conditional by changing, in the second, the 'nam' into 'si'. May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! or may you rather die before you cease to be fit to live, than after! My true tenderness for you makes me think more of the manner than of the length of your life, and forbids me to wish it prolonged, by a single day, that should bring guilt, reproach, and shame upon you. I have not malice enough in my nature, to wish that to my greatest enemy. You are the principal object of all my cares, the only object of all my hopes; I have now reason to believe, that you will reward the former, and answer the latter; in that case, may you live long, for you must live happy; 'de te nam caetera sumes'. Conscious virtue is the only solid foundation of all happiness; for riches, power, rank, or whatever, in the common acceptation of the word, is supposed to constitute happiness, will never quiet, much less cure, the inward pangs of guilt. To that main wish, I will add those of the good old nurse of Horace, in his epistle to Tibullus: 'Sapere', you have it in a good degree already. 'Et fari ut possit quae sentiat'. Have you that? More, much more is meant by it, than common speech or mere articulation. I fear that still remains to be wished for, and I earnestly wish it to you. 'Gratia and Fama' will inevitably accompany the above-mentioned qualifications. The 'Valetudo' is the only one that is not in your own power; Heaven alone can grant it you, and may it do so abundantly! As for the 'mundus victus, non deficiente crumena', do you deserve, and I will provide them.

It is with the greatest pleasure that I consider the fair prospect which you have before you. You have seen, read, and learned more, at your age, than most young fellows have done at two or three-and-twenty. Your destination is a shining one, and leads to rank, fortune, and distinction. Your education has been calculated for it; and, to do you justice, that education has not been thrown away upon you. You want but two things, which do not want conjuration, but only care, to acquire: eloquence and manners; that is, the graces of speech, and the graces of behavior. You may have them; they are as much in your power as powdering your hair is; and will you let the want of them obscure (as it certainly will do) that shining prospect which presents itself to you. I am sure you will not. They are the sharp end, the point of the nail that you are driving, which must make way first for the larger and more solid parts to enter. Supposing your moral character as pure, and your knowledge as sound, as I really believe them both to be; you want nothing for that perfection, which I have so constantly wished you, and taken so much pains to give you, but eloquence and politeness. A man who is not born with a poetical genius, can never be a poet, or at best an extremely bad one; but every man, who can speak at all, can speak elegantly and correctly if he pleases, by attending to the best authors and orators; and, indeed, I would advise those who do not speak elegantly, not to speak at all; for I am sure they will get more by their silence than by their speech. As for politeness: whoever keeps good company, and is not polite, must have formed a resolution, and take some pains not to be so; otherwise he would naturally and insensibly take the air, the address, and the turn of those he converses with. You will, probably, in the course of this year, see as great a variety of good company in the several capitals you will be at, as in any one year of your life; and consequently must (I should hope) catch some of their manners, almost whether you will or not; but, as I dare say you will endeavor to do it, I am convinced you will succeed, and that I shall have pleasure of finding you, at your return here, one of the best-bred men in Europe.

I imagine, that when you receive my letters, and come to those parts of them which relate to eloquence and politeness, you say, or at least think, What, will he never have done upon those two subjects? Has he not said all he can say upon them? Why the same thing over and over again? If you do think or say so, it must proceed from your not yet knowing the infinite importance of these two accomplishments, which I cannot recommend to you too often, nor inculcate too strongly. But if, on the contrary, you are convinced of the utility, or rather the necessity of those two accomplishments, and are determined to acquire them, my repeated admonitions are only unnecessary; and I grudge no trouble which can possibly be of the least use to you.

I flatter myself, that your stay at Rome will go a great way toward answering all my views: I am sure it will, if you employ your time, and your whole time, as you should. Your first morning hours, I would have you devote to your graver studies with Mr. Harte; the middle part of the day I would have employed in seeing things; and the evenings in seeing people. You are not, I hope, of a lazy, inactive turn, in either body or mind; and, in that case, the day is full long enough for everything; especially at Rome, where it is not the fashion, as it is here and at Paris, to embezzle at least half of it at table. But if, by accident, two or three hours are sometimes wanting for some useful purpose, borrow them from your sleep. Six, or at most seven hours sleep is, for a constancy, as much as you or anybody can want; more is only laziness and dozing; and is, I am persuaded, both unwholesome and stupefying. If, by chance, your business, or your pleasures, should keep you up till four or five o'clock in the morning, I would advise you, however, to rise exactly at your usual time, that you may not lose the precious morning hours; and that the want of sleep may force you to go to bed earlier the next night. This is what I was advised to do when very young, by a very wise man; and what, I assure you, I always did in the most dissipated part of my life. I have very often gone to bed at six in the morning and rose, notwithstanding, at eight; by which means I got many hours in the morning that my companions lost; and the want of sleep obliged me to keep good hours the next, or at least the third night. To this method I owe the greatest part of my reading: for, from twenty to forty, I should certainly have read very little, if I had not been up while my acquaintances were in bed. Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination; never put off till to-morrow what you can do today. That was the rule of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt; who, by strictly following it, found time, not only to do the whole business of the republic, but to pass his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as if he had had nothing else to do or think of.

Adieu, my dear friend, for such I shall call you, and as such I shall, for the future, live with you; for I disclaim all titles which imply an authority, that I am persuaded you will never give me occasion to exercise.

'Multos et felices', most sincerely, to Mr. Harte.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A joker is near akin to a buffoon Ablest man will sometimes do weak things Above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them Advise those who do not speak elegantly, not to speak Always does more than he says Always some favorite word for the time being Architecture Arrogant pedant Ascribing the greatest actions to the most trifling causes Assign the deepest motives for the most trifling actions Attend to the objects of your expenses, but not to the sums Attention to the inside of books Awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions Being in the power of every man to hurt him Can hardly be said to see what they see Cardinal Mazarin Cardinal Richelieu Complaisance due to the custom of the place Conjectures supply the defect of unattainable knowledge Connive at knaves, and tolerate fools Corneille Deep learning is generally tainted with pedantry Deepest learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome Desirous of pleasing Dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them Dissimulation is only to hide our own cards Do not become a virtuoso of small wares Does not give it you, but he inflicts it upon you Endeavors to please and oblige our fellow-creatures Every man pretends to common sense Every numerous assembly is a mob Eyes and the ears are the only roads to the heart Few dare dissent from an established opinion Few things which people in general know less, than how to love Flattering people behind their backs Fools never perceive where they are either ill-timed Friendship upon very slight acquaintance Frivolous curiosity about trifles Frivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their own hands Gain the heart, or you gain nothing General conclusions from certain particular principles Good manners Haste and hurry are very different things Herd of mankind can hardly be said to think Human nature is always the same Hurt those they love by a mistaken indulgence Idleness is only the refuge of weak minds If I don't mind his orders he won't mind my draughts Inattention Inattentive, absent; and distrait Incontinency of friendship among young fellows Indiscriminate familiarity Inquisition Insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself Insolent civility It is not sufficient to deserve well; one must please well too Know the true value of time Known people pretend to vices they had not Knows what things are little, and what not Learn, if you can, the WHY and the WHEREFORE Leave the company, at least as soon as he is wished out of it Led, much oftener by little things than by great ones Little failings and weaknesses Love with him, who they think is the most in love with them Machiavel Mastery of one's temper May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! May you rather die before you cease to be fit to live Moderation with your enemies Most people have ears, but few have judgment; tickle those ears Never implicitly adopt a character upon common fame Never would know anything that he had not a mind to know Nickname No man is distrait with the man he fears, or the woman he loves Nothing in courts is exactly as it appears to be Our understandings are generally the DUPES of our hearts People will repay, and with interest too, inattention Perfection of everything that is worth doing at all Pliny POLITICIANS NEITHER LOVE NOR HATE Public speaking Quietly cherished error, instead of seeking for truth Reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form Reserve with your friends Six, or at most seven hours sleep Sooner forgive an injury than an insult Style There are many avenues to every man Those who remarkably affect any one virtue Three passions that often put honesty to most severe trials To great caution, you can join seeming frankness and openness Trifling parts, with their little jargon Truth leaves no room for compliments We have many of those useful prejudices in this country Whatever pleases you most in others World is taken by the outside of things