o hurt you. Would you show a sullen, pouting, impotent
resentment? I hope not; leave that silly, unavailing sort of resentment
to women, and men like them, who are always guided by humor, never by
reason and prudence. That pettish, pouting conduct is a great deal too
young, and implies too little knowledge of the world, for one who has
seen so much of it as you have. Let this be one invariable rule of your
conduct,--Never to show the least symptom of resentment which you cannot
to a certain degree gratify; but always to smile, where you cannot
strike. There would be no living in courts, nor indeed in the world if
one could not conceal, and even dissemble, the just causes of resentment,
which one meets with every day in active and busy life. Whoever cannot
master his humor enough, 'pour faire bonne mine a mauvais jeu', should
leave the world, and retire to some hermitage, in an unfrequented desert.
By showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you authorize the
resentment of those who can hurt you and whom you cannot hurt; and give
them that very pretense, which perhaps they wished for, of breaking with,
and injuring you; whereas the contrary behavior would lay them under, the
restraints of decency at least; and either shackle or expose their
malice. Besides, captiousness, sullenness, and pouting are most
exceedingly illiberal and vulgar. 'Un honnete homme ne les connoit
point'.

I am extremely glad to hear that you are soon to have Voltaire at
Manheim: immediately upon his arrival, pray make him a thousand
compliments from me. I admire him most exceedingly; and, whether as an
epic, dramatic, or lyric poet, or prose-writer, I think I justly apply to
him the 'Nil molitur inepte'. I long to read his own correct edition of
'Les Annales de l'Empire', of which the 'Abrege Chronologique de
l'Histoire Universelle', which I have read, is, I suppose, a stolen and
imperfect part; however, imperfect as it is, it has explained to me that
chaos of history, of seven hundred years more clearly than any other book
had done before. You judge very rightly that I love 'le style le r et
fleuri'. I do, and so does everybody who has any parts and taste. It
should, I confess, be more or less 'fleuri', according to the subject;
but at the same time I assert that there is no subject that may not
properly, and which ought not to be adorned, by a certain elegance and
beauty of style. What can be more adorned than Cicero's Philosophical
Works? Wh