MY DEAR FRIEND: I receive this moment your letter of the 19th, N. S.,
with the inclosed pieces relative to the present dispute between the King
and the parliament. I shall return them by Lord Huntingdon, whom you will
soon see at Paris, and who will likewise carry you the piece, which I
forgot in making up the packet I sent you by the Spanish Ambassador. The
representation of the parliament is very well drawn, ‘suaviter in modo,
fortiter in re’. They tell the King very respectfully, that, in a certain
case, WHICH THEY SHOULD THINK IT CRIMINAL To SUPPOSE, they would not obey
him. This hath a tendency to what we call here revolution principles. I
do not know what the Lord’s anointed, his vicegerent upon earth, divinely
appointed by him, and accountable to none but him for his actions, will
either think or do, upon these symptoms of reason and good sense, which
seem to be breaking out all over France: but this I foresee, that, before
the end of this century, the trade of both king and priest will not be
half so good a one as it has been. Du Clos, in his “Reflections,” hath
observed, and very truly, ‘qu’il y a un germe de raison qui commence a se
developper en France’;--a developpement that must prove fatal to Regal
and Papal pretensions. Prudence may, in many cases, recommend an
occasional submission to either; but when that ignorance, upon which an
implicit faith in both could only be founded, is once removed, God’s
Vicegerent, and Christ’s Vicar, will only be obeyed and believed, as far
as what the one orders, and the other says, is conformable to reason and
to truth.
I am very glad (to use a vulgar expression) that You MAKE AS IF YOU WERE
NOT WELL, though you really are; I am sure it is the likeliest way to
keep so. Pray leave off entirely your greasy, heavy pastry, fat creams,
and indigestible dumplings; and then you need not confine yourself to
white meats, which I do not take to be one jot wholesomer than beef,
mutton, and partridge.
Voltaire sent me, from Berlin, his ‘History du Siecle de Louis XIV. It
came at a very proper time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how
history should be read; Voltaire shows me how it should be written. I am
sensible that it will meet with almost as many critics as readers.
Voltaire must be criticised; besides, every man’s favorite is attacked:
for every prejudice is exposed, and our prejudices are our mistresses;
reason is at best our wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded.
It is the history of the human understanding, written by a man of parts,
for the use of men of parts. Weak minds will not like it, even though
they do not understand it; which is commonly the measure of their
admiration. Dull ones will want those minute and uninteresting details
with which most other histories are encumbered. He tells me all I want to
know, and nothing more. His reflections are short, just, and produce
others in his readers. Free from religious, philosophical, political and
national prejudices, beyond any historian I ever met with, he relates all
those matters as truly and as impartially, as certain regards, which must
always be to some degree observed, will allow him; for one sees plainly
that he often says much less than he would say, if he might. He hath made
me much better acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV., than the
innumerable volumes which I had read could do; and hath suggested this
reflection to me, which I have never made before--His vanity, not his
knowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and sciences
in his country. He opened in a manner the human understanding in France,
and brought it to its utmost perfection; his age equalled in all, and
greatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, Pedants!) the Augustan. This
was great and rapid; but still it might be done, by the encouragement,
the applause, and the rewards of a vain, liberal, and magnificent prince.
What is much more surprising is, that he stopped the operations of the
human mind just where he pleased; and seemed to say, “Thus far shalt thou
go, and no farther.” For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his
power, free and rational thoughts upon either, never entered into a
French head during his reign; and the greatest geniuses that ever any age
produced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of Kings, or the
infallibility of the Church. Poets, Orators, and Philosophers, ignorant
of their natural rights, cherished their chains; and blind, active faith
triumphed, in those great minds, over silent and passive reason. The
reverse of this seems now to be the case in France: reason opens itself;
fancy and invention fade and decline.
I will send you a copy of this history by Lord Huntingdon, as I think it
very probable that it is not allowed to be published and sold at Paris.
Pray read it more than once, and with attention, particularly the second
volume, which contains short, but very clear accounts of many very
interesting things, which are talked of by everybody, though fairly.
understood by very few. There are two very puerile affectations which I
wish this book had been free from; the one is, the total subversion of
all the old established French orthography; the other is, the not making
use of any one capital letter throughout the whole book, except at the
beginning of a paragraph. It offends my eyes to see rome, paris, france,
Caesar, I henry the fourth, etc., begin with small letters; and I do not
conceive that there can be any reason for doing it, half so strong as the
reason of long usage is to the contrary. This is an affectation below
Voltaire; who, I am not ashamed to say, that I admire and delight in, as
an author, equally in prose and in verse.
I had a letter a few days ago from Monsieur du Boccage, in which he says,
‘Monsieur Stanhope s’est jete dans la politique, et je crois qu’il y
reussira’: You do very well, it is your destination; but remember that,
to succeed in great things, one must first learn to please in little
ones. Engaging manners and address must prepare the way for superior
knowledge and abilities to act with effect. The late Duke of
Marlborough’s manners and address prevailed with the first king of
Prussia, to let his troops remain in the army of the Allies, when neither
their representations, nor his own share in the common cause could do it.
The Duke of Marlborough had no new matter to urge to him; but had a
manner, which he could not, nor did not, resist. Voltaire, among a
thousand little delicate strokes of that kind, says of the Duke de la
Feuillade, ‘qu’il etoit l’homme le plus brillant et le plus aimable du
royaume; et quoique gendre du General et Ministre, il avoit pour lui la
faveur publique’. Various little circumstances of that sort will often
make a man of great real merit be hated, if he hath not address and
manners to make him be loved. Consider all your own circumstances
seriously; and you will find that, of all arts, the art of pleasing is
the most necessary for you to study and possess. A silly tyrant said,
‘oderint modo timeant’; a wise man would have said, ‘modo ament nihil
timendum est mihi’. Judge from your own daily experience, of the efficacy
of that pleasing ‘je ne sais quoi’, when you feel, as you and everybody
certainly does, that in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in women
than beauty.
I long to see Lord and Lady-------(who are not yet arrived), because they
have lately seen you; and I always fancy, that I can fish out something
new concerning you, from those who have seen you last: not that I shall
much rely upon their accounts, because I distrust the judgment of Lord
and Lady-------, in those matters about which I am most inquisitive. They
have ruined their own son by what they called and thought loving him.
They have made him believe that the world was made for him, not he for
the world; and unless he stays abroad a great while, and falls into very
good company, he will expect, what he will never find, the attentions and
complaisance from others, which he has hitherto been used to from Papa
and Mamma. This, I fear, is too much the case of Mr. ----; who, I doubt,
will be run through the body, and be near dying, before he knows how to
live. However you may turn out, you can never make me any of these
reproaches. I indulged no silly, womanish fondness for you; instead of
inflicting my tenderness upon you, I have taken all possible methods to
make you deserve it; and thank God you do; at least, I know but one
article, in which you are different from what I could wish you; and you
very well know what that is I want: That I and all the world should like
you, as well as I love you. Adieu.