out considering that in the first place there never were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel; and in the next place that there never was a case stated or even known by any historian with every one of its circumstances, which however ought to be known in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the case itself and the several circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly, but not from the authority of ancient poets or historians. Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous; but take them as helps only, not as guides. We are really so prejudiced by our education, that, as the ancients deified their heroes, we deify their madmen, of which, with all due regard for antiquity, I take Leonidas and Curtius to have been two distinguished ones. And yet a solid pedant would, in a speech in Parliament relative to a tax of two-pence in the pound upon some commodity or other, quote those two heroes as examples of what we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have known these absurdities carried so far by people of injudicious learning that I should not be surprised if some of them were to propose, while we are at war with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be kept in the Tower, upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome received in a parallel case from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. This way of reasoning and this way of speaking will always form a poor politician and a puerile declaimer.

There is another species of learned men, who though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less

1

impertinent. These are the communicative and shining pedants who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy quotations of Greek and Latin, and who have contracted such a familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors that they call them by certain names or epithets denoting intimacy, - as old Homer; that sly rogue Horace; Maro, instead of Virgil; and Naso, instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by coxcombs who have no learning at all, but who have got some names and some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and impertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for scholars. If therefore you would avoid the accusation of pedantry on one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the language of the company that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any other. Never seem wiser nor more learned than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket, and do not pull it out and strike it merely to show that you have one. If you are asked what o'clock it is, tell it, but do not proclaim it hourly and unasked, like the watchman.

XXI.

THE GRACES. THE ABSURDITY OF LAUGHTER.

BATH, March 9, O. s. 1748.

DEAR BOY,

I must from time to time remind

you of what I have often recommended to you, and

Sacrifice to

of what you cannot attend to too much,
the Graces. The different effects of the same things
said or done when accompanied or abandoned by
them, is almost inconceivable. They prepare the
way to the heart; and the heart has such an influ-
ence over the understanding, that it is worth while
to engage it in our interest. It is the whole of
women, who are guided by nothing else; and it has
so much to say even with men, and the ablest men
too, that it commonly triumphs in every struggle with
the understanding. Monsieur de Rochefoucault,
in his Maxims, says that "l'esprit est souvent la
dupe du cœur.” If he had said, instead of souvent,
presque toujours, I fear he would have been nearer
the truth. This being the case, aim at the heart.
Intrinsic merit alone will not do. It will gain you
the general esteem of all, but not
fection, that is, the heart, of any.
affection of any particular person, you must, over
and above your general merit, have some particular
merit to that person by services done or offered, by
expressions of regard and esteem, by complaisance,
attentions, etc., for him; and the graceful manner of
doing all these things opens the way to the heart,
and facilitates or rather insures their effects. From
your own observation, reflect what a disagreeable
impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure,
an ungraceful manner of speaking,—whether stut-
tering, muttering, monotony, or drawling, — an un-
attentive behavior, etc., make upon you, at first
sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you
against him, though for aught you know he may

the particular af

To engage the

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have great intrinsic sense and merit.

And reflect

on the other hand how much the opposites of all these things prepossess you at first sight in favor of those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do not. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, conspire to form these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always pleases. A pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree of dress, an harmonious voice, something open and cheerful in the countenance but without laughing, a distinct and properly varied manner of speaking,— all these things, and many others, are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing je ne sais quoi, which everybody feels though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded that in general the same things will please or displease them in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it; and I could heartily wish that you may often be seen to smile but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and ill manners; it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind, there is nothing so illiberal and so i bred as audible laughter. True wit or sense never yet made anybody laugh; they are above it; they please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the countenance. But it is low buffoonery or silly accidents that always excite laughter; and that is what people of sense and breeding

should show themselves above. A man's going to sit down in the supposition that he has a chair behind him, and falling down for want of one, sets a whole company a-laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it, a plain proof in my mind how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is, not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily restrained by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connected with the idea of gayety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing and as apt to be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people, at first from awkwardness and mauvaise honte, have got a very disagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak; and I know a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing without laughing, which makes those who do not know him take him at first for a natural fool. This and many other very disagreeable habits are owing to mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. They are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted that they do not know what they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance, which tricks afterwards grow habitual to them. Some scratch their heads, others twirl their hats; in short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency does not justify the thing, and all these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses, though not