IV.

DANCING. ALL THINGS, EVEN TRIFLES, SHOULD BE DONE WELL.

DEAR BOY,

DUBLIN CASTLE, Nov. 19, 1745.1

Now that the Christmas break

ing-up draws near, I have ordered Mr. Desnoyers to go to you during that time, to teach you to dance. I desire you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of your arms, which with the manner of putting on your hat and giving your hand is all that a gentleman need attend to. 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

1 Written during Lord Chesterfield's viceroyalty in Ireland.

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.

V.

ELOCUTION: METHOD OF DEMOSTHENES.

DUBLIN CASTLE, Feb. 8, 1746.

You propose,

I find, Demosthenes for your model, and you have chosen very well; but remember the pains he took to be what he was. He spoke near the sea in storms, both to use himself to speak aloud, and not to be disturbed by the noise and tumult of public assemblies; he put stones in his mouth to help his elocution, which naturally was not advantageous; from which facts I conclude, that whenever he spoke he opened both his lips and his teeth, and that he articulated every word and every syllable distinctly, and full loud enough to be heard the whole length of my library.

As he took so much pains for the graces of oratory only, I conclude he took still more for the more solid parts of it. I am apt to think he applied himself extremely to the propriety, the purity, and

the elegance of his language; to the distribution of the parts of his oration; to the force of his arguments; to the strength of his proofs; and to the passions as well as the judgments of his audience. I fancy he began with an exordium, to gain the good opinion and the affections of his audience; that afterwards he stated the point in question briefly but clearly; that he then brought his proofs, afterwards his arguments; and that he concluded with a peroratio, in which he recapitulated the whole succinctly, enforced the strong parts, and artfully slipped over the weak ones; and at last made his strong push at the passions of his hearers. Wherever you would persuade or prevail, address yourself to the passions; it is by them that mankind is to be taken. Caesar 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.

VI.

INATTENTION. — KNOWLEDGE OF MANKIND.

Dublin CastlE, March 10, 1746.

SIR,I most thankfully acknowledge the honor of two or three letters from you, since 1 troubled

you with my last; and am very proud of the repeated instances you give me of your favor and protection, which I shall endeavor to deserve.1

I am very glad that you went to hear a trial in the Court of King's Bench; and still more so, that you made the proper animadversions upon the inattention of many of the people in the Court. As you observed very well the indecency of that inattention, I am sure you will never be guilty of anything like it yourself. There is no surer sign in the world of a little, weak mind than inattention. Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well; and nothing can be well done without attention. It is the sure answer of a fool, when you ask him about anything that was said or done where he was present, that "truly he did not mind it." And why did not the fool mind it? What had he else to do there but to mind what was doing? A man of sense sees, hears, and retains everything that passes where he is. I desire I may never hear you talk of not minding, nor complain, as most fools do, of a treacherous memory. Mind not only what people say but how they say it; and if you have any sagacity, you may discover more truth by your eyes than by your ears. People can say what they will, but they cannot look just as they will; and their looks frequently discover what their words are calculated to conceal. Observe, therefore, people's looks carefully when they speak, not only to you, but to each other. I have often guessed by people's

1 A little badinage at the expense of the boy, who at that date was about fourteen.

faces what they were saying, though I could not hear one word they said. The most material knowledge of all I mean the knowledge of the world is never to be acquired without great attention; and I know many old people, who though they have lived long in the world, are but children still as to the knowledge of it, from their levity and inattention. Certain forms which all people comply with, and certain arts which all people aim at, hide in some degree the truth and give a general exterior resemblance to almost everybody. Attention and sagacity must see through that veil and discover the natural character. You are of an age now to reflect, to observe and compare characters, and to arm yourself against the common arts, at least of the world. If a man with whom you are but barely acquainted, and to whom you have made no offers nor given any marks of friendship, makes you on a sudden strong professions of his, receive them with civility, but do not repay them with confidence; he certainly means to deceive you, for one man does not fall in love with another at sight. If a man uses strong protestations or oaths to make you believe a thing which is of itself so likely and probable that the bare saying of it would be sufficient, depend upon it he lies, and is highly interested in making you believe it; or else he would not take so much pains.

In about five weeks I propose having the honor of laying myself at your feet, which I hope to find grown longer than they were when I left them.

Adieu.