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<h2> LETTER XXII </h2>
<h3> LONDON, December 18, O. S. 1747. </h3>
<p>DEAR Boy: As two mails are now due from Holland,</p>
<p>I have no letters of yours, or Mr. Harte's to acknowledge; so that this
letter is the effect of that 'scribendi cacoethes,' which my fears, my
hopes, and my doubts, concerning you give me. When I have wrote you a very
long letter upon any subject, it is no sooner gone, but I think I have
omitted something in it, which might be of use to you; and then I prepare
the supplement for the next post: or else some new subject occurs to me,
upon which I fancy I can give you some informations, or point out some
rules which may be advantageous to you. This sets me to writing again,
though God knows whether to any purpose or not; a few years more can only
ascertain that. But, whatever my success may be, my anxiety and my care
can only be the effects of that tender affection which I have for you; and
which you cannot represent to yourself greater than it really is. But do
not mistake the nature of that affection, and think it of a kind that you
may with impunity abuse. It is not natural affection, there being in
reality no such thing; for, if there were, some inward sentiment must
necessarily and reciprocally discover the parent to the child, and the
child to the parent, without any exterior indications, knowledge, or
acquaintance whatsoever; which never happened since the creation of the
world, whatever poets, romance, and novel writers, and such
sentiment-mongers, may be pleased to say to the contrary. Neither is my
affection for you that of a mother, of which the only, or at least the
chief objects, are health and life: I wish you them both most heartily;
but, at the same time, I confess they are by no means my principal care.</p>
<p>My object is to have you fit to live; which, if you are not, I do not
desire that you should live at all. My affection for you then is, and only
will be, proportioned to your merit; which is the only affection that one
rational being ought to have for another. Hitherto I have discovered
nothing wrong in your heart, or your head: on the contrary I think I see
sense in the one, and sentiments in the other. This persuasion is the only
motive of my present affection; which will either increase or diminish,
according to your merit or demerit. If you have the knowledge, the honor,
and probity, which you may have, the marks and warmth of my affection
shall amply reward them; but if you have them not, my aversion and
indignation will rise in the same proportion; and, in that case, remember,
that I am under no further obligation, than to give you the necessary
means of subsisting. If ever we quarrel, do not expect or depend upon any
weakness in my nature, for a reconciliation, as children frequently do,
and often meet with, from silly parents; I have no such weakness about me:
and, as I will never quarrel with you but upon some essential point; if
once we quarrel, I will never forgive. But I hope and believe, that this
declaration (for it is no threat) will prove unnecessary. You are no
stranger to the principles of virtue; and, surely, whoever knows virtue
must love it. As for knowledge, you have already enough of it, to engage
you to acquire more. The ignorant only, either despise it, or think that
they have enough: those who have the most are always the most desirous to
have more, and know that the most they can have is, alas! but too little.</p>
<p>Reconsider, from time to time, and retain the friendly advice which I send
you. The advantage will be all your own.</p>
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<h2> LETTER XXIII </h2>
<h3> LONDON, December 29, O. S. 1747 </h3>
<p>DEAR BOY: I have received two letters from you of the 17th and 22d, N. S.,
by the last of which I find that some of mine to you must have miscarried;
for I have never been above two posts without writing to you or to Mr.
Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received a letter from Mr.
Harte, which gives me great satisfaction: it is full of your praises; and
he answers for you, that, in two years more, you will deserve your
manumission, and be fit to go into the world, upon a footing that will do
you honor, and give me pleasure.</p>
<p>I thank you for your offer of the new edition of 'Adamus Adami,' but I do
not want it, having a good edition of it at present. When you have read
that, you will do well to follow it with Pere Bougeant's 'Histoire du
Traite de Munster,' in two volumes quarto; which contains many important
anecdotes concerning that famous treaty, that are not in Adamus Adami.</p>
<p>You tell me that your lectures upon the 'Jus Publicum' will be ended at
Easter; but then I hope that Monsieur Mascow will begin them again; for I
would not have you discontinue that study one day while you are at
Leipsig. I suppose that Monsieur Mascow will likewise give you lectures
upon the 'Instrumentum Pacis,' and upon the capitulations of the late
emperors. Your German will go on of course; and I take it for granted that
your stay at Leipsig will make you a perfect master of that language, both
as to speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing any language
imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all: people
being as unwilling to speak in a language which they do not possess
thoroughly, as others are to hear them. Your thoughts are cramped, and
appear to great disadvantage, in any language of which you are not perfect
master. Let modern history share part of your time, and that always
accompanied with the maps of the places in question; geography and history
are very imperfect separately, and, to be useful, must be joined.</p>
<p>Go to the Duchess of Courland's as often as she and your leisure will
permit. The company of women of fashion will improve your manners, though
not your understanding; and that complaisance and politeness, which are so
useful in men's company, can only be acquired in women's.</p>
<p>Remember always, what I have told you a thousand times, that all the
talents in the world will want all their lustre, and some part of their
use too, if they are not adorned with that easy good-breeding, that
engaging manner, and those graces, which seduce and prepossess people in
your favor at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to
be neglected; always extremely clean; upon proper occasions fine. Your
carriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your
manner and address, when you present yourself in company. Let them be
respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteel
without affectation, and insinuating without any seeming art or design.</p>
<p>You need not send me any more extracts of the German constitution; which,
by the course of your present studies, I know you must soon be acquainted
with; but I would now rather that your letters should be a sort of journal
of your own life. As, for instance, what company you keep, what new
acquaintances you make, what your pleasures are; with your own reflections
upon the whole: likewise what Greek and Latin books you read and
understand. Adieu!</p>
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