The Sun.
London, England, 1822-11-26 00:00:00

FOR THE SUN.

MR. EDITOR—I observe in your Paper a cha-
racter of FONTENELLE, drawn by one of the last
in that school, which was more renowned for taste
than feeling, and which seemed to take delight
in looking at the worst side of human nature,
even in the most celebrated perk)nages of their
own country. I therefore send you some few
traits of this same person, which will tend to do
him more justice, and though not to free him from
a great portion of indifference, yet to present
him in a far more amiable light, and more con-
sistent with his real history. We know that he
sprung from nothing : his talents were his only
patrimony ; and they were to him so many talents
of gold, for he died worth a princely fortune ;
and yet he employed his talents in secret for
many others who were by his kind assistance
raised from the greatest poverty. This was the,
more honourable to him, as his left band knew
not what his right hand did ; and it was not till
very late in a long life that he confest the writ-
ings which had been so beneficial to others were
his own. Nor was the confession made till the
reputed authors were dead ; and in general they
were not voluntary, but extracted from him by
some allusion of pleasantry to what was, contain-
ed in them, when he was telling his numerous
stories of which he was very fond, and he had an
admirable art in telling them, without encumber-
ing the spirit with a weight of words.
ASS to his declaratio❑ that he would smother
the truth, if he had it his possession, it
was nothing more than a strong expression
in his lively manlier of the danger there is
in all ages' from speaking the truth. What we
say should always be what we believe to be
true, but the truth need not at all times be
spoken. Before we open our mouths, we must
look to the times and seasons, or, like Galileo,
we may be clapped into prison : for truth itself
may be a libel, and the truer it is the more li-
bellous it may appear. Under this impression,
perhaps, he deserved the imputation which was
laid to his charge, that he was the patriarch of
a sect, to which he himself did not belong, al-'
luding to his Old age, and to the part which he
took in the controversy between the ancients and
moderns in literature, in favour of the hitter,
when his real opinion seems to have-been in fa-
vour of the ancients ; but the dead could not hurt
him, and be was glad to keep the living in good
humour. That he was a man of benevolence is
clear enough, from several anecdotes recorded of
him by those who were well acquainted with his
private life. His great maxim waaito,deny himself
luxuries, in order to provide for Alert's ; an'd when
men were praising themselves for any charitable
action, be used to say,, that is only a debt.—
Among many examples of this, his theory, is that.
which is related of Marivaux, to whom he went
when he was taken ill ; he desired to speak a
word in private with him, and said to him with
all that earnest sensibility to which he is supi
-
posed to be a stranger—" My friend, in your
present distress, are you not in want of money ;
and true friends ought not to wait to be asked,
what they should find in their own hearts ;" say-
ing this, he held out his purse, which Marivaux
refused in as handsome a manner—" I look upon
this money as received," says he ; " I have made
use of it, and return-it to you with the gratitude
which such a favour demands."

- A similar anecdote is told of him, in h.is libe-
rality to one of his old schoolfellows, who, in his
diktress, had. written to him in this laconic style :
) " You have-1000 crowns,send them to-.me." " Just
• at the receipt of your letter," replied 1,1 e," I was
about to lay out the money -to advantage, which if
I once lose, the opportunity may never return.
How then can I comply with your request?" All
,the reply which he . received was, still send me-
-1000 crowns, which F. accordingly sent, .much
pleased with the: frank simplicity of his friend.
These are sothe'among,the numerous traits which
are recorded of him,, to testify the goodness of
his heart, notwithstanding all the slander against
him, -which might often arise from the temptal-
tion which will sometimes prevail with men of--
wit, •tO display their humour at the expence of
their. real feelings. . There would be no- epd of
my subject if I were to attempt to bring for-
ward
all the instances whiCh are recorded of one'
so distinguished for his fund of wit: Notwith-
standing his display-of this dangerous faculty,
he was no less distinguished for his great popu-
larity ; and once being asked how he came to
make •so Many friends, and not one enemy ? he
answered--" Simply by these two axioms ; every
thing is possible, and every body is right." And
on another occasion, being asked how he could
attain- such clearness of ideas expressed in,so ap-
propriate a style upon - subjects the most ab-
stract and profound, he replied, " I have ever
endeavoured to understand myself." What vo-
lumes of abstruse controversy would this one
measure universally put in practice, 'have saved
the world, which has been inundated in all ages -
by a body of Authors, who'think to make others
understand them, before they, have once attempt-
ed to understand themselves ; not considering.j
that 'nothing can be' intelligible either to •orfroin
them that'are not intelligent..
He was remarked not only for his clearness of
comprehension but for his kindness and-good hu-
mour, particularly to all the young Authors who
'Used to come and consult him as their oracle.—
He always kept their secret, and whetherthey:
chose to follow his advice or not, even when they
ventured to -publish against his opinion, when it•
was once-in-print, he gave the work all the praise
he could;•not -only in private but in -public, re-
marking
that he was a great foe to manuscript's,
but a friend to print. In the same spirit, he used