are only comparatively able, with regard to the still weaker herd:  having fewer weaknesses themselves, they are able to avail themselves of the innumerable ones of the generality of mankind:  being more masters of themselves, they become more easily masters of others.  They address themselves to their weaknesses, their senses, their passions; never to their reason; and consequently seldom fail of success.  But then analyze those great, those governing, and, as the vulgar imagine, those perfect characters, and you will find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, the great Cardinal Richelieu a jealous poetaster, and the great Duke of Marlborough a miser.  Till you come to know mankind by your own experience, I know no thing, nor no man, that can in the meantime bring you so well acquainted with them as le Duc de la Rochefoucault:  his little book of “Maxims,” which I would advise you to look into, for some moments at least, every day of your life, is, I fear, too like, and too exact a picture of human nature.

I own, it seems to degrade it; but yet my experience does not convince me that it degrades it unjustly.

Now, to bring all this home to my first point.  All these considerations should not only invite you to attempt to make a figure in parliament, but encourage you to hope that you shall succeed.  To govern mankind, one must not overrate them:  and to please an audience, as a speaker, one must not overvalue it.  When I first came into the House of Commons, I respected that assembly as a venerable one; and felt a certain awe upon me, but, upon better acquaintance, that awe soon vanished; and I discovered, that, of the five hundred and sixty, not above thirty could understand reason, and that all the rest were ‘peuple’; that those thirty only required plain common sense, dressed up in good language; and that all the others only required flowing and harmonious periods, whether they conveyed any meaning or not; having ears to hear, but not sense enough to judge.  These considerations made me speak with little concern the first time, with less the second, and with none at all the third.  I gave myself no further trouble about anything, except my elocution, and my style; presuming, without much vanity, that I had common sense sufficient not to talk nonsense.  Fix these three truths strongly in your mind:  First, that it is absolutely necessary for you to speak in parliament; secondly, that it only requires a little human attention, and no supernatural gifts; and, thirdly, that you have all the reason in the world to think that you shall speak well.  When we meet, this shall be the principal subject of our conversations; and, if you will follow my advice, I will answer for your success.