<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"></SPAN></p>
<h2> LETTER CXX </h2>
<h3> LONDON, November 1, O. S. 1750 </h3>
<p>MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope that this letter will not find you still at
Montpelier, but rather be sent after you from thence to Paris, where, I am
persuaded, that Mr. Harte could find as good advice for his leg as at
Montpelier, if not better; but if he is of a different opinion, I am sure
you ought to stay there, as long as he desires.</p>
<p>While you are in France, I could wish that the hours you allot for
historical amusement should be entirely devoted to the history of France.
One always reads history to most advantage in that country to which it is
relative; not only books, but persons being ever at hand to solve doubts
and clear up difficulties. I do by no means advise you to throw away your
time in ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and unimportant
parts of remote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read what blockheads
wrote. And a general notion of the history of France, from the conquest of
that country by the Franks, to the reign of Louis the Eleventh, is
sufficient for use, consequently sufficient for you. There are, however,
in those remote times, some remarkable eras that deserve more particular
attention; I mean those in which some notable alterations happened in the
constitution and form of government. As, for example, in the settlement of
Clovis in Gaul, and the form of government which he then established; for,
by the way; that form of government differed in this particular from all
the other Gothic governments, that the people, neither collectively nor by
representatives, had any share in it. It was a mixture of monarchy and
aristocracy: and what were called the States General of France consisted
only of the nobility and clergy till the time of Philip le Bel, in the
very beginning of the fourteenth century, who first called the people to
those assemblies, by no means for the good of the people, who were only
amused by this pretended honor, but, in truth, to check the nobility and
clergy, and induce them to grant the money he wanted for his profusion;
this was a scheme of Enguerrand de Marigny, his minister, who governed
both him and his kingdom to such a degree as to, be called the coadjutor
and governor of the kingdom. Charles Martel laid aside these assemblies,
and governed by open force. Pepin restored them, and attached them to him,
and with them the nation; by which means he deposed Childeric and mounted
the throne. This is a second period worth your attention. The third race
of kings, which begins with Hugues Capet, is a third period. A judicious
reader of history will save himself a great deal of time and trouble by
attending with care only to those interesting periods of history which
furnish remarkable events, and make eras, and going slightly over the
common run of events. Some people read history as others read the
"Pilgrim's Progress"; giving equal attention to, and indiscriminately
loading their memories with every part alike. But I would have you read it
in a different manner; take the shortest general history you can find of
every country; and mark down in that history the most important periods,
such as conquests, changes of kings, and alterations of the form of
government; and then have recourse to more extensive histories or
particular treatises, relative to those great points. Consider them well,
trace up their causes, and follow their consequences. For instance, there
is a most excellent, though very short history of France, by Le Gendre.
Read that with attention, and you will know enough of the general history;
but when you find there such remarkable periods as are above mentioned,
consult Mezeray, and other of the best and minutest historians, as well as
political treatises upon those subjects. In later times, memoirs, from
those of Philip de Commines, down to the innumerble ones in the reign of
Louis the Fourteenth, have been of great use, and thrown great light upon
particular parts of history.</p>
<p>Conversation in France, if you have the address and dexterity to turn it
upon useful subjects, will exceedingly improve your historical knowledge;
for people there, however classically ignorant they may be, think it a
shame to be ignorant of the history of their own country: they read that,
if they read nothing else, and having often read nothing else, are proud
of having read that, and talk of it willingly; even the women are well
instructed in that sort of reading. I am far from meaning by this that you
should always be talking wisely in company, of books, history, and matters
of knowledge. There are many companies which you will, and ought to keep,
where such conversations would be misplaced and ill-timed; your own good
sense must distinguish the company and the time. You must trifle only with
triflers; and be serious only with the serious, but dance to those who
pipe. 'Cur in theatrum Cato severs venisti?' was justly said to an old
man: how much more so would it be to one of your age? From the moment that
you are dressed and go out, pocket all your knowledge with your watch, and
never pull it out in company unless desired: the producing of the one
unasked, implies that you are weary of the company; and the producing of
the other unrequired, will make the company weary of you. Company is a
republic too jealous of its liberties, to suffer a dictator even for a
quarter of an hour; and yet in that, as in republics, there are some few
who really govern; but then it is by seeming to disclaim, instead of
attempting to usurp the power; that is the occasion in which manners,
dexterity, address, and the undefinable 'je ne sais quoi' triumph; if
properly exerted, their conquest is sure, and the more lasting for not
being perceived. Remember, that this is not only your first and greatest,
but ought to be almost your only object, while you are in France.</p>
<p>I know that many of your countrymen are apt to call the freedom and
vivacity of the French petulancy and illbreeding; but, should you think
so, I desire upon many accounts that you will not say so; I admit that it
may be so in some instances of 'petits maitres Etourdis', and in some
young people unbroken to the world; but I can assure you, that you will
find it much otherwise with people of a certain rank and age, upon whose
model you will do very well to form yourself. We call their steady
assurance, impudence why? Only because what we call modesty is awkward
bashfulness and 'mauvaise honte'. For my part, I see no impudence, but, on
the contrary, infinite utility and advantage in presenting one's self with
the same coolness and unconcern in any and every company. Till one can do
that, I am very sure that one can never present one's self well. Whatever
is done under concern and embarrassment, must be ill done, and, till a man
is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every company, he will never be
thought to have kept good company, nor be very welcome in it. A steady
assurance, with seeming modesty, is possibly the most useful qualification
that a man can have in every part of life. A man would certainly make a
very considerable fortune and figure in the world, whose modesty and
timidity should often, as bashfulness always does (put him in the
deplorable and lamentable situation of the pious AEneas, when 'obstupuit,
steteruntque comae; et vox faucibus haesit!). Fortune (as well as women)—</p>
<p>"————-born to be controlled,<br/>
Stoops to the forward and the bold."<br/></p>
<p>Assurance and intrepidity, under the white banner of seeming modesty,
clear the way for merit, that would otherwise be discouraged by
difficulties in its journey; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy and
blustering harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper.</p>
<p>You will think that I shall never have done recommending to you these
exterior worldly accomplishments, and you will think right, for I never
shall; they are of too great consequence to you for me to be indifferent
or negligent about them: the shining part of your future figure and
fortune depends now wholly upon them. These are the acquisitions which
must give efficacy and success to those you have already made. To have it
said and believed that you are the most learned man in England, would be
no more than was said and believed of Dr. Bentley; but to have it said, at
the same time, that you are also the best-bred, most polite, and agreeable
man in the kingdom, would be such a happy composition of a character as I
never yet knew any one man deserve; and which I will endeavor, as well as
ardently wish, that you may. Absolute perfection is, I well know,
unattainable; but I know too, that a man of parts may be unweariedly
aiming at it, and arrive pretty near it. Try, labor, persevere. Adieu.</p>
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