will hear you twice, who can help it. If you write
epistles as well as Cicero, but in a very bad hand,
and very ill-spelled, whoever receives will laugh
at them; and if you had the figure of Adonis, with
an awkward air and motions, it will disgust instead
of pleasing. Study manner, therefore, in everything,
if you would be anything. My principal inquiries
of my friends at Paris, concerning you, will be relative
to your manner of doing whatever you do. I shall
not inquire whether you understand Demosthenes, Tacitus,
or the ’Jus Publicum Imperii’; but I shall
inquire, whether your utterance is pleasing, your
style not only pure, but elegant, your manners noble
and easy, your air and address engaging in short,
whether you are a gentleman, a man of fashion, and
fit to keep good company, or not; for, till I am satisfied
in these particulars, you and I must by no means meet;
I could not possibly stand it. It is in your
power to become all this at Paris, if you please.
Consult with Lady Hervey and Madame Monconseil upon
all these matters; and they will speak to you, and
advise you freely. Tell them, that ‘bisogna
compatire ancora’, that you are utterly new in
the world; that you are desirous to form yourself;
that you beg they will reprove, advise, and correct
you; that you know that none can do it so well; and
that you will implicitly follow their directions.
This, together with your careful observation of the
manners of the best company, will really form you.
Abbe Guasco, a friend of mine, will come to you as
soon as he knows of your arrival at Paris; he is well
received in the best companies there, and will introduce
you to them. He will be desirous to do you any
service he can; he is active and curious, and can
give you information upon most things. He is
a sort of ‘complaisant’ of the President
Montesquieu, to whom you have a letter.
I imagine that this letter will not wait for you very
long at Paris, where I reckon you will be in about
a fortnight. Adieu.
LETTER CXXV
London, December 24, 1750
Dear friend: At length you are become
a Parisian, and consequently must be addressed in
French; you will also answer me in the same language,
that I may be able to judge of the degree in which
you possess the elegance, the delicacy, and the orthography
of that language which is, in a manner, become the
universal one of Europe. I am assured that you
speak it well, but in that well there are gradations.
He, who in the provinces might be reckoned to speak
correctly, would at Paris be looked upon as an ancient
Gaul. In that country of mode, even language is
subservient to fashion, which varies almost as often
as their clothes.