letters to his son, 1750-第10章

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l　garni'；　if　in　the　meantime　I　hear　well　of　you；　and　that　you　frequent；　and　are　esteemed　in　the　best　French　companies。　　You　want　nothing　now；　thank　God；　but　exterior　advantages；　that　last　polish；　that　'tournure　du　monde'；　and　those　graces；　which　are　so　necessary　to　adorn；　and　give　efficacy　to；　the　most　solid　merit。　　They　are　only　to　be　acquired　in　the　best　companies；　and　better　in　the　best　French　companies　than　in　any　other。　　You　will　not　want　opportunities；　for　I　shall　send　you　letters　that　will　establish　you　in　the　most　distinguished　companies；　not　only　of　the　beau　monde；　but　of　the　beaux　esprits；　too。　　Dedicate；　therefore；　I　beg　of　you；　that　whole　year　to　your　own　advantage　and　final　improvement；　and　do　not　be　diverted　from　those　objects　by　idle　dissipations；　low　seduction；　or　bad　example。　　After　that　year；　do　whatever　you　please；　I　will　interfere　no　longer　in　your　conduct；　for　I　am　sure　both　you　and　I　shall　be　safe　then。　　Adieu！




LETTER　CXI

LONDON；　April　30；　O。　S。　　1750

MY　DEAR　FRIEND：　Mr。　Harte；　who　in　all　his　letters　gives　you　some　dash　of　panegyric；　told　me　in　his　last　a　thing　that　pleases　me　extremely；　which　was　that　at　Rome　you　had　constantly　preferred　the　established　Italian　assemblies　to　the　English　conventicles　setup　against　them　by　dissenting　English　ladies。　　That　shows　sense；　and　that　you　know　what　you　are　sent　abroad　for。　　It　is　of　much　more　consequence　to　know　the　'mores　multorem　hominum'　than　the　'urbes'。　　Pray　continue　this　judicious　conduct　wherever　you　go；　especially　at　Paris；　where；　instead　of　thirty；　you　will　find　above　three　hundred　English；　herding　together　and　conversing　with　no　one　French　body。

The　life　of　'les　Milords　Anglois'　is　regularly；　or；　if　you　will；　irregularly；　this。　　As　soon　as　they　rise；　which　is　very　late；　they　breakfast　together；　to　the　utter　loss　of　two　good　morning　hours。　　Then　they　go　by　coachfuls　to　the　Palais；　the　Invalides；　and　Notre…Dame；　from　thence　to　the　English　coffee…house；　where　they　make　up　their　tavern　party　for　dinner。　　From　dinner；　where　they　drink　quick；　they　adjourn　in　clusters　to　the　play；　where　they　crowd　up　the　stage；　dressed　up　in　very　fine　clothes；　very　ill…made　by　a　Scotch　or　Irish　tailor。　　From　the　play　to　the　tavern　again；　where　they　get　very　drunk；　and　where　they　either　quarrel　among　themselves；　or　sally　forth；　commit　some　riot　in　the　streets；　and　are　taken　up　by　the　watch。　　Those　who　do　not　speak　French　before　they　go；　are　sure　to　learn　none　there。　　Their　tender　vows　are　addressed　to　their　Irish　laundress；　unless　by　chance　some　itinerant　Englishwoman；　eloped　from　her　husband；　or　her　creditors；　defrauds　her　of　them。　　Thus　they　return　home；　more　petulant；　but　not　more　informed；　than　when　they　left　it；　and　show；　as　they　think；　their　improvement　by　affectedly　both　speaking　and　dressing　in　broken　French：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃Hunc　to　Romane　caveito。〃

Connect　yourself；　while　you　are　in　France；　entirely　with　the　French；　improve　yourself　with　the　old；　divert　yourself　with　the　young；　conform　cheerfully　to　their　customs；　even　to　their　little　follies；　but　not　to　their　vices。　　Do　not；　however；　remonstrate　or　preach　against　them；　for　remonstrances　do　not　suit　with　your　age。　　In　French　companies　in　general　you　will　not　find　much　learning；　therefore　take　care　not　to　brandish　yours　in　their　faces。　　People　hate　those　who　make　them　feel　their　own　inferiority。　　Conceal　all　your　learning　carefully；　and　reserve　it　for　the　company　of　les　Gens　d'Eglise；　or　les　Gens　de　Robe；　and　even　then　let　them　rather　extort　it　from　you；　than　find　you　over…willing　to　draw　it。　　Your　are　then　thought；　from　that　seeming　unwillingness；　to　have　still　more　knowledge　than　it　may　be　you　really　have；　and　with　the　additional　merit　of　modesty　into　the　bargain。　　A　man　who　talks　of；　or　even　hints　at；　his　'bonnes　fortunes'；　is　seldom　believed；　or；　if　believed；　much　blamed；　whereas　a　man　who　conceals　with　care　is　often　supposed　to　have　more　than　he　has；　and　his　reputation　of　discretion　gets　him　others。　　It　is　just　so　with　a　man　of　learning；　if　he　affects　to　show　it；　it　is　questioned；　and　he　is　reckoned　only　superficial；　but　if　afterward　it　appears　that　he　really　has　it；　he　is　pronounced　a　pedant。　　Real　merit　of　any　kind；　'ubi　est　non　potest　diu　celari'；　it　will　be　discovered；　and　nothing　can　depreciate　it　but　a　man's　exhibiting　it　himself。　　It　may　not　always　be　rewarded　as　it　ought；　but　it　will　always　be　known。　　You　will　in　general　find　the　women　of　the　beau　monde　at　Paris　more　instructed　than　the　men；　who　are　bred　up　singly　for　the　army；　and　thrown　into　it　at　twelve　or　thirteen　years　old；　but　then　that　sort　of　education；　which　makes　them　ignorant　of　books；　gives　them　a　great　knowledge　of　the　world；　an　easy　address；　and　polite　manners。

Fashion　is　more　tyrannical　at　Paris　than　in　any　other　place　in　the　world；　it　governs　even　more　absolutely　than　their　king；　which　is　saying　a　great　deal。　　The　least　revolt　against　it　is　punished　by　proscription。　　You　must　observe；　and　conform　to　all　the　'minutiae'　of　it；　if　you　will　be　in　fashion　there　yourself；　and　if　you　are　not　in　fashion；　you　are　nobody。　Get；　therefore；　at　all　events；　into　the　company　of　those　men　and　women　'qui　donnent　le　ton'；　and　though　at　first　you　should　be　admitted　upon　that　shining　theatre　only　as　a　'persona　muta'；　persist；　persevere；　and　you　will　soon　have　a　part　given　you。　　Take　great　care　never　to　tell　in　one　company　what　you　see　or　hear　in　another；　much　less　to　divert　the　present　company　at　the　expense　of　the　last；　but　let　discretion　and　secrecy　be　known　parts　of　your　character。　　They　will　carry　you　much　further；　and　much　safer　than　more　shining　talents。　　Be　upon　your　guard　against　quarrels　at　Paris；　honor　is　extremely　nice　there；　though　the　asserting　of　it　is　exceedingly　penal。　　Therefore；　'point　de　mauvaises　plaisanteries；　point　de　jeux　de　main；　et　point　de　raillerie　piquante'。

Paris　is　the　place　in　the　world　where；　if　you　please；　you　may　the　best　unite　the　'utile'　and　the　'dulce'。　　Even　your　pleasures　will　be　your　improvements；　if　you　take　them　with　the　people　of　the　place；　and　in　high　life。　　From　what　you　have　hitherto　done　everywhere　else；　I　have　just　reason　to　believe；　that　you　will　do　everything　that　you　ought　at　Paris。　Remember　that　it　is　your　decisive　moment；　whatever　you　do　there　will　be　known　to　thousands　here；　and　your　character　there；　whatever　it　is；　will　get　before　you　here。　　You　will　meet　with　it　at　London。　　May　you　and　I　both　have　reason　to　rejoice　at　that　meeting！　Adieu。




LETTER　CXII

LONDON；　May　8；　O。　S。　　1750

MY　DEAR　FRIEND：　At　your　age　the　love　of　pleasures　is　extremely　natural；　and　the　enjoyment　of　them　not　unbecoming：　but　the　danger；　at　your　age；　is　mistaking　the　object；　and　setting　out　wrong　in　the　pursuit。　　The　character　of　a　man　of　pleasure　dazzles　young　eyes；　they　do　not　see　their　way　to　it　distinctly；　and　fall　into　vice　and　profligacy。　　I　remember　a　strong　instance　of　this　a　great　many　years　ago。　　A　young　fellow；　determined　to　shine　as　a　man　of　pleasure；　was　at　the　play　called　the　〃Libertine　Destroyed；〃　a　translation　of　'Le　Festin　de　Pierre'　of　Molieire's。　　He　was　so　struck　with　what　he　thought　the　fine　character　of　the　libertine；　that　he　swore　he　would　be　the　LIBERTINE　DESTROYED。　　Some　friends　asked　him；　whether　he　had　not　better　content　himself　with　being　only　the　libertine；　but　without　being　DESTROYED？　to　which　he　answered　with　great　warmth；　〃No；　for　that　being　destroyed　was　the　perfection　of　the　whole。〃　　This；　extravagant　as　it　seems　in　this　light；　is　really　the　case　of　many　an　unfortunate　young　fellow；　who；　captivated　by　the　name　of　pleasures；　rushes　indiscriminately；　and　without　taste；　into　them　all；　and　is　finally　DESTROYED。　　I　am　not　stoically　advising；　nor　parsonically　preaching　to　you　to　be　a　Stoic　at　your　age；　far　from　it：　I　am　pointing　out　to　you　the　paths　to　pleasures；　and　am　endeavoring　only　to　quicken　and　heighten　them　for　you。　　Enjoy　pleasures；　but　let　them　be　your　own；　and　then　you　will　taste　them；　but　adopt　none；　trust　to　nature　for　genuine　ones。　　The　pleasures　that　you　would　feel　you　must　earn；　the　man　who　gives　himself　up　to　all；　feels　none　sensibly。　　Sardanapalus；　I　am　convinced；　never　felt　any　in　his　life。　　Those　only　who　join　serious　occupations　with　pleasures；　feel　e