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Sixtus the Vth was the son of a swineherd; and raised himself to the Popedom by his abilities: he was a great knave, but an able and a singular one.

Here is History enough for to-day; you shall have some more
foon. Adieu.

LETTER CXXII.

London, June the 21st, O. S. 1748.

DEAR BOY,

YOUR very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such real concern, that it will be the subject of this, and, I believe, of many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself, that I was informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it; and shall ever think myself, as hereafter you will, I am sure, think yourself, infinitely obliged to Sir Charles Williams, for informing me of it. Good God! if this ungraceful and dif- agreeable manner of speaking had, either by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in company, or in a public assembly? Who would have liked you in the one, or have attended to you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say of Enunciation, and see what a flets they lay upon the gracefulness of it; nay, Cicero goes further, and even maintains, that a good figure is necessary for an Orator; and, particularly, that he must not be vaflus; that is, overgrown and plumfy. He shows by it, that he knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a graceful manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their hearts, than by their understandings. The way to the heart is, thorough the fens; short

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fenſes; pleafe their eyes and their ears, and the work is half done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided for ever by his firſt addrefs. If it is pleafing, people are hurried involuntarily into a perſuafion that he has a merit, which poffibly he has not; as, on the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced againſt him; and unwilling to allow him the merit which, it may be, he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjuſt and unreafonable as at firſt it may seem; for, if a man has parts, he muſt know of what infinite conſequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of ſpeaking, and a genteel and pleafing addrefs: he will cultivate and improve them to the utmoſt. Your figure is a good one; you have no natural defect in the organs of ſpeech; your addrefs may be engaging, and your manner of speaking graceful, if you will; ſo that, if they are not ſo, neither I, nor the world, can aſeribe it to any thing but your want of parts. What is the conſtant and juſt obſervation, as to all actors upon the ſlage? Is it not, that thofe who have the beſt ſenſe always ſpeak the beſt, though they may happen not to have the beſt voices? They will ſpeak plainly, diſlinctly, and with the proper emphaſis, be their voices ever ſo bad. Had Rofeius ſpoken quick, thick, and ungracefully, I will anſwer for it, that Cicero would not have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favour. Words were given us to communicate our ideas by; and there muſt be ſomething inconceivably abſurd, in uttering them in ſuch a manner, as that either people cannot understand them, or will not define to understand them. I tell you, truly and ſincerely, that I ſhall judge of your parts by your ſpeaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will never be at reſt till you have brought yourſelf to a habit of ſpeaking moſt gracefully; for I aſer, that it is in your power. You will define Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him, every

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day; and that he will interrupt and correct you, every time that
you read too fast, do not observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong
emphasis. You will take care to open your teeth when you
speak; to articulate every word distinctly; and to beg of Mr.
Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whoever you speak to, to remind, and stop
you, if ever you fall into the rapid and unintelligible mutter. You
will even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utterance to your
own ear; and read at first much slower than you need to do, in
order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster
than you ought. In short, you will make it your business, your
study, and your pleasure, to speak well, if you think right. There-
fore, what I have said in this, and in my last, is more than suffi-
cient, if you have done; and ten times more would not be suffi-
cient, if you have not: so here I rest it.

Next to graceful speaking, a genteel carriage, and a graceful
manner of prefenting yourself, are extremely necessary, for they
are extremely engaging; and carefulness in these points is much
more unpardonable, in a young fellow, than affectation. It
shows an offensive indifference about pleasing. I am told by one
here, who has seen you lately, that you are awkward in your mo-
tions, and negligent of your person: I am forry for both; and so
will you, when it will be too late, if you continue so some time
longer. Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating; and a total
negligence of drefs, and air, is an impertinent insult upon cuftom
and fashion. You remember Mr. * * * very well, I am sure,
and you must consequently remember his extreme awkwardness;
which, I can assure you, has been a great clog to his parts and
merit, that have, with much difficulty, but barely counterba-
lanced it at last. Many, to whom I have formerly commended
him, have answered me, That they were sure he could not have
parts, because he was so awkward; so much are people, as I ob-
served

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ferved to you before, taken by the eye. Women have great influ-
ence, as to a man's fashionable character; and an awkward man
will never have their votes; which, by the way, are very numerous,
and much oftener counted than weighed. You should therefore
give some attention to your drefs, and to the gracefulness of your
motions. I believe, indeed, that you have no perfect model for
either, at Leipzig, to form yourself upon; but, however, do not
get a habit of neglecting either: and attend properly to both,
when you go to Courts; where they are very necessary, and where
you will have good maisters, and good models for both. Your
exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, will civilize and fashion
your body and your limbs, and give you, if you will but take
it, a fair d'un honnête homme.

I will now conclude, with fuffging one reflection to you;
which is, that you should be fensible of your good fortune, in
having one who interefts himself enough in you, to inquire into
your faults, in order to inform you of them. Nobody but myself
would be so folicitous, either to know or correct them; so that
you might consequently be ignorant of them yourself; for our
own self-love draws a thick veil between us and our faults. But
when you hear yours from me, you may be sure that you hear
them from one, who, for your fake only, defires to correct them;
from one whom you cannot fuppect of any partiality but in your
favour; and from one who heartily wishes that his care of you, as
a Father, may, in a little time, render every care unnecessary but
that of a Friend. Adieu.

P. S. I condole with you for the untimely and violent death of
the tuneful Matzel *.

* The Editor being in poffection of the original of the following Letter and Copy of Verſes, which are ſo very appoſite to the ſubject mentioned in the Poſtſcript, thinks that they

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LETTER CXXIII.

London, July the 1st, O.S. 1748.

DEAR BOY,

I AM extremely well pleafed with the course of ſtudies which Mr. Harte informs me you are now in, and with the degree of application which he affures 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 endeavour that you may turn out well; and, according as you do turn out, I ſhall be either 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 what-ever you have from me ſhall be moſt exaſtly proportioned to your deſert. Deſerve a great deal, and you ſhall have a great deal; deſerve 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.

Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the firſt and great foundation of your future fortune and character; for I never mention the two much greater points to you, 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 pleafe; 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, nor ſhine, if it is not poſſed. It is upon this article, I confefs, that

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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 every body, and too much contempt to many. Be convinced, that there are no perſons ſo insigniſcant and inconfiderable, but may, ſome time or other, and in ſome thing 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 for ever. It implies a diſcovery of weakneſſes, which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man will confefs 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 ſollies: 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 ſollies, from any body but me; thofe I will take pains to diſcover, and whenever I do, ſhall tell you of them.

Next to Manners, are exterior graces of perſon and ad-drefs; which adorn Manners, as Manners adorn Know-ledge. To ſay that they pleafe, engage, and charm, as they moſt indiſputably do, is ſaying, that one ſhould do every thing poſſible to acquire them. The graceful manner of ſpeaking, is, particularly, what I ſhall always hollow in your ears, as Hot-ſpur hollowed Mortimer to Henry IV; and, like him too, I have aimed to have a Starling taught to ſay, *ſpeak diſtinetly and gracefully*, and ſend him you, to replace your loſs of the unfor-tunate Matzel; who, by the way, I am told, ſpoke his language very diſtinetly and gracefully.

VOL. I.

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As,

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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.

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 *Landaffini* and *Amptaffii*.

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.

I would likewise have you attend to the respective Coins, gold, silver, copper, &c. and their value, compared with our Coins: 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 fort of knowledge will be very useful to you in your way of bufnefs, where the different value of money often comes in question.

I am going to Cheltenham to-morrow, left for my health, which is pretty good, than for the diffipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stay about a fortnight.

L'Abbé Mably's *Droit de l'Europe*, which Mr. Harte is so kind as to send me, is worth your reading. Adieu.

LETTER

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LETTER CXXIV.

Cheltenham, July the 6th, O. S. 1748.

DEAR BOY,

YOUR school-fellow, Lord Pulteney, got out laft week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipzig 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 endeavours; and that cannot be helped: but nothing is more inflicting, more mortifying, and left forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a man feel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, &c. In the two laft articles, it is unjust, they not being in his power; and, in the firft, it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding, and good-nature, do incline us rather to help and raife people up to ourselves, than to mortify and deprecate 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 conftant practice of what the French call *les Attentions*, is a most neceffary ingredient in the art of pleafing; they flatter the self-love of thofe 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;

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them; and any omission, in that respect, is downright ill-breed-
ing.

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 divergions may, if you pleafe, em-
ploy some part of your time very usefully. It depends intirely upon
the nature of them. If they are futile and frivolous, it is time
worse than loft, for they will give you an habit of futility. All
gaming, field-sports, and such sort of amufements, where neither
the underfanding nor the fenſes have the leaſt ſhare, I look
upon as frivolous, and as the refources of little minds, who either
do not think, or do not love to think. But the pleafures 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.

Tell me what Greek and Latin books you can now read with
eafe. Can you open Demofthenes at a venture, and underftand
him? Can you get through an Oration of Cicero, or a Satire of
Horace, without difficulty? What German book do you read, to
make your ſelf 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; befides that, great cleanli-
neſs is very conducive to health. But if you do not keep your
mouth excejively clean, by washing it carefully every morning,
and after every meal, it will not only be apt to ſmell, which is
very diſguſing and indecent; but your teeth will decay and ach,
which

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which is both a great loſs, and a great pain: A ſpruceneſs of
dreſs is almo very proper and becoming, at your age; as the negligi-
gence of it implies an indifferency about pleafing, which does not
become a young fellow. To do, whatever you do at all, to the ut-
moſt 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 at-
tempted it at all.

Adieu ! *Speak gracefully and diffinétly*, if you intend to converſe
ever with, Yours.

P. S. As I was making-up my letter, I received yours of the
6th N. S. I like your differtation upon Preliminary Articles, and
Truces. Your definitions of both are true. Thofe are matters
which I would have you be maſter of; they belong to your ſu-
ture department. But remember, too, that they are matters upon
which you will much oftener have occafion to ſpeak than to write;
and that, confequently, it is full as neceſſary to ſpeak gracefully
and diffinétly upon them, as to write clearly and elegantly. I
find no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the
moderns, for indifinét and unintelligible utterance. The Oracles
indeed meanded to be obſcure; but then it was by the ambiguity
of the expreflion, and not by the inarticulation of the words.
For, if people had not thought, at leaſt, they underſood them,
they would neither have frequented nor prefented them as
they did. There was likewife, among the ancients, and is ſill
among the moderns, a ſort of people called *Ventriloqui*, who ſpeak
from their bellies, or make the voice ſeem to come from ſome
other part of the room than that where they are. But theſe *Ven-
triloqui* ſpeak very diffinétly and intelligibly. The only thing,
then, that I can find like a precedent for your way of ſpeaking
(and

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