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<h2> LETTER CLXVI </h2>
<h3> LONDON, May 11, O. S. 1752. </h3>
<p>DEAR FRIEND: I break my word by writing this letter; but I break it on the
allowable side, by doing more than I promised. I have pleasure in writing
to you; and you may possibly have some profit in reading what I write;
either of the motives were sufficient for me, both for you I cannot
withstand. By your last I calculate that you will leave Paris upon this
day se'nnight; upon that supposition, this letter may still find you
there.</p>
<p>Colonel Perry arrived here two or three days ago, and sent me a book from
you; Cassandra abridged. I am sure it cannot be too much abridged. The
spirit of that most voluminous work, fairly extracted, may be contained in
the smallest duodecimo; and it is most astonishing, that there ever could
have been people idle enough to write or read such endless heaps of the
same stuff. It was, however, the occupation of thousands in the last
century, and is still the private, though disavowed, amusement of young
girls, and sentimental ladies. A lovesick girl finds, in the captain with
whom she is in love, all the courage and all the graces of the tender and
accomplished Oroondates: and many a grown-up, sentimental lady, talks
delicate Clelia to the hero, whom she would engage to eternal love, or
laments with her that love is not eternal.</p>
<p>"Ah! qu'il est doux d'aimer, si Pon aimoit toujours!<br/>
Mais helas! il'n'est point d'eternelles amours."<br/></p>
<p>It is, however, very well to have read one of those extravagant works (of
all which La Calprenede's are the best), because it is well to be able to
talk, with some degree of knowledge, upon all those subjects that other
people talk sometimes upon: and I would by no means have anything, that is
known to others, be totally unknown to you. It is a great advantage for
any man, to be able to talk or to hear, neither ignorantly nor absurdly,
upon any subject; for I have known people, who have not said one word,
hear ignorantly and absurdly; it has appeared in their inattentive and
unmeaning faces.</p>
<p>This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you as to anybody of your
age: and if you will but add a versatility and easy conformity of manners,
I know no company in which you are likely to be de trop.</p>
<p>This versatility is more particularly necessary for you at this time, now
that you are going to so many different places: for, though the manners
and customs of the several courts of Germany are in general the same, yet
everyone has its particular characteristic; some peculiarity or other,
which distinguishes it from the next. This you should carefully attend to,
and immediately adopt. Nothing flatters people more, nor makes strangers
so welcome, as such an occasional conformity. I do not mean by this, that
you should mimic the air and stiffness of every awkward German court; no,
by no means; but I mean that you should only cheerfully comply, and fall
in with certain local habits, such as ceremonies, diet, turn of
conversation, etc. People who are lately come from Paris, and who have
been a good while there, are generally suspected, and especially in
Germany, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. Take great
care that nothing of this kind appear, at least outwardly, in your
behavior; but commend whatever deserves any degree of commendation,
without comparing it with what you may have left, much better of the same
kind, at Paris. As for instance, the German kitchen is, without doubt,
execrable, and the French delicious; however, never commend the French
kitchen at a German table; but eat of what you can find tolerable there,
and commend it, without comparing it to anything better. I have known many
British Yahoos, who though while they were at Paris conformed to no one
French custom, as soon as they got anywhere else, talked of nothing but
what they did, saw, and eat at Paris. The freedom of the French is not to
be used indiscriminately at all the courts in Germany, though their
easiness may, and ought; but that, too, at some places more than others.
The courts of Manheim and Bonn, I take to be a little more unbarbarized
than some others; that of Mayence, an ecclesiastical one, as well as that
of Treves (neither of which is much frequented by foreigners), retains, I
conceive, a great deal of the Goth and Vandal still. There, more reserve
and ceremony are necessary; and not a word of the French. At Berlin, you
cannot be too French. Hanover, Brunswick, Cassel, etc., are of the mixed
kind, 'un peu decrottes, mais pas assez'.</p>
<p>Another thing, which I most earnestly recommend to you, not only in
Germany, but in every part of the world where you may ever be, is not only
real, but seeming attention, to whoever you speak to, or to whoever speaks
to you. There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so little forgiven, as
a seeming inattention to the person who is speaking to you: and I have
known many a man knocked down, for (in my opinion) a much lighter
provocation, than that shocking inattention which I mean. I have seen many
people, who, while you are speaking to them, instead of looking at, and
attending to you, fix their eyes upon the ceiling or some other part of
the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl their snuff-box,
or pick their nose. Nothing discovers a little, futile, frivolous mind
more than this, and nothing is so offensively ill-bred; it is an explicit
declaration on your part, that every the most trifling object, deserves
your attention more than all that can be said by the person who is
speaking to you. Judge of the sentiments of hatred and resentment, which
such treatment must excite in every breast where any degree of self-love
dwells; and I am sure I never yet met with that breast where there was not
a great deal: I repeat it again and again (for it is highly necessary for
you to remember it), that sort of vanity and self-love is inseparable from
human nature, whatever may be its rank or condition; even your footmen
will sooner forget and forgive a beating, than any manifest mark of slight
and contempt. Be therefore, I beg of you, not only really, but seemingly
and manifestly attentive to whoever speaks to you; nay, more, take their
'ton', and tune yourself to their unison. Be serious with the serious, gay
with the gay, and trifle with the triflers. In assuming these various
shapes, endeavor to make each of them seem to sit easy upon you, and even
to appear to be your own natural one. This is the true and useful
versatility, of which a thorough knowledge of the world at once teaches
the utility and the means of acquiring.</p>
<p>I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never make use of a silly
expression, which is the favorite expression, and the absurd excuse of all
fools and blockheads; I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING; a thing by no means either
morally or physically impossible. I CANNOT attend long together to the
same thing, says one fool; that is, he is such a fool that he will not. I
remember a very awkward fellow, who did not know what to do with his
sword, and who always took it off before dinner, saying that he could not
possibly dine with his sword on; upon which I could not help telling him,
that I really believed he could without any probable danger either to
himself or others. It is a shame and an absurdity, for any man to say that
he cannot do all those things, which are commonly done by all the rest of
mankind.</p>
<p>Another thing that I must earnestly warn you against is laziness; by which
more people have lost the fruit of their travels than, perhaps, by any
other thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go and see
things; and the rest of the day go and see people. If you stay but a week
at a place, and that an insignificant one, see, however, all that is to be
seen there; know as many people, and get into as many houses, as ever you
can.</p>
<p>I recommend to you likewise, though probably you have thought of it
yourself, to carry in your pocket a map of Germany, in which the postroads
are marked; and also some short book of travels through Germany. The
former will help to imprint in your memory situations and distances; and
the latter will point out many things for you to see, that might otherwise
possibly escape you, and which, though they may be in themselves of little
consequence, you would regret not having seen, after having been at the
places where they were.</p>
<p>Thus warned and provided for your journey, God speed you; 'Felix
faustumque sit! Adieu.</p>
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