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 as