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.
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.
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.
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)--
“---------born to be controlled,
Stoops to the forward and the bold.”
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.
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.