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<h2> LETTER CXCIII </h2>
<h3> LONDON, January 15, 1754 </h3>
<p>MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 26th past
from Munich. Since you are got so well out of the distress and dangers of
your journey from Manheim, I am glad that you were in them:</p>
<p>"Condisce i diletti<br/>
Memorie di pene,<br/>
Ne sa che sia bene<br/>
Chi mal non soffri."<br/></p>
<p>They were but little samples of the much greater distress and dangers
which you must expect to meet within your great, and I hope, long journey
through life. In some parts of it, flowers are scattered, with profusion,
the road is smooth, and the prospect pleasant: but in others (and I fear
the greater number) the road is rugged, beset with thorns and briars, and
cut by torrents. Gather the flowers in your way; but, at the same time,
guard against the briars that are either mixed with them, or that most
certainly succeed them.</p>
<p>I thank you for your wild boar; who, now he is dead, I assure him, 'se
laissera bien manger malgre qu'il en ait'; though I am not so sure that I
should have had that personal valor which so successfully distinguished
you in single combat with him, which made him bite the dust like Homer's
heroes, and, to conclude my period sublimely, put him into that PICKLE,
from which I propose eating him. At the same time that I applaud your
valor, I must do justice to your modesty; which candidly admits that you
were not overmatched, and that your adversary was about your own age and
size. A Maracassin, being under a year old, would have been below your
indignation. 'Bete de compagne', being under two years old, was still, in
my opinion, below your glory; but I guess that your enemy was 'un Ragot',
that is, from two to three years old; an age and size which, between man
and boar, answer pretty well to yours.</p>
<p>If accidents of bad roads or waters do not detain you at Munich, I do not
fancy that pleasures will: and I rather believe you will seek for, and
find them, at the Carnival at Berlin; in which supposition, I eventually
direct this letter to your banker there. While you are at Berlin (I
earnestly recommend it to you again and again) pray CARE to see, hear,
know, and mind, everything there. THE ABLEST PRINCE IN EUROPE is surely an
object that deserves attention; and the least thing that he does, like the
smallest sketches of the greatest painters, has its value, and a
considerable one too.</p>
<p>Read with care the Code Frederick, and inform yourself of the good effects
of it in those parts of, his dominions where it has taken place, and where
it has banished the former chicanes, quirks, and quibbles of the old law.
Do not think any detail too minute or trifling for your inquiry and
observation. I wish that you could find one hour's leisure every day, to
read some good Italian author, and to converse in that language with our
worthy friend Signor Angelo Cori; it would both refresh and improve your
Italian, which, of the many languages you know, I take to be that in which
you are the least perfect; but of which, too, you already know enough to
make yourself master of, with very little trouble, whenever you please.</p>
<p>Live, dwell, and grow at the several courts there; use them so much to
your face, that they may not look upon you as a stranger. Observe, and
take their 'ton', even to their affectations and follies; for such there
are, and perhaps should be, at all courts. Stay, in all events, at Berlin,
till I inform you of Sir Charles Williams's arrival at Dresden; where I
suppose you would not care to be before him, and where you may go as soon
after him as ever you please. Your time there will neither be unprofitably
nor disagreeably spent; he will introduce you into all the best company,
though he can introduce you to none so good as his own. He has of late
applied himself very seriously to foreign affairs, especially those of
Saxony and Poland; he knows them perfectly well, and will tell you what he
knows. He always expresses, and I have good reason to believe very
sincerely, great kindness and affection for you.</p>
<p>The works of the late Lord Bolingbroke are just published, and have
plunged me into philosophical studies; which hitherto I have not been much
used to, or delighted with; convinced of the futility of those researches;
but I have read his "Philosophical Essay" upon the extent of human
knowledge, which, by the way, makes two large quartos and a half. He there
shows very clearly, and with most splendid eloquence, what the human mind
can and cannot do; that our understandings are wisely calculated for our
place in this planet, and for the link which we form in the universal
chain of things; but that they are by no means capable of that degree of
knowledge, which our curiosity makes us search after, and which our vanity
makes us often believe we arrive at. I shall not recommend to you the
reading of that work; but, when you return hither, I shall recommend to
your frequent and diligent perusal all his tracts that are relative to our
history and constitution; upon which he throws lights, and scatters
graces, which no other writer has ever done.</p>
<p>Reading, which was always a pleasure to me, in the time even of my
greatest dissipation, is now become my only refuge; and, I fear, I indulge
it too much at the expense of my eyes. But what can I do? I must do
something; I cannot bear absolute idleness; my ears grow every day more
useless to me, my eyes consequently more necessary; I will not hoard them
like a miser, but will rather risk the loss, than not enjoy the use of
them.</p>
<p>Pray let me know all the particulars, not only of your reception at
Munich, but also at Berlin; at the latter, I believe, it will be a good
one; for his Prussian Majesty knows, that I have long been AN ADMIRER AND
RESPECTER OF HIS GREAT AND VARIOUS TALENTS. Adieu.</p>
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