extraneous objects, which have not the least relation to themselves; such
as being descended from, related to, or acquainted with, people of
distinguished merit and eminent characters. They talk perpetually of
their grandfather such-a-one, their uncle such-a-one, and their intimate
friend Mr. Such-a-one, with whom, possibly, they are hardly acquainted.
But admitting it all to be as they would have it, what then? Have they
the more merit for those accidents? Certainly not. On the contrary, their
taking up adventitious, proves their want of intrinsic merit; a rich man
never borrows. Take this rule for granted, as a never-failing one: That
you must never seem to affect the character in which you have a mind to
shine. Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for praise. The
affectation of courage will make even a brave man pass only for a bully;
as the affectation of wit will make a man of parts pass for a coxcomb. By
this modesty I do not mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. On the
contrary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value whatever it
may be, and act upon that principle; but take great care to let nobody
discover that you do know your own value. Whatever real merit you have,
other people will discover, and people always magnify their own
discoveries, as they lessen those of others.

For God's sake, revolve all these things seriously in your thoughts,
before you launch out alone into the ocean of Paris. Recollect the
observations that you have yourself made upon mankind, compare and
connect them with my instructions, and then act systematically and
consequentially from them; not 'au jour la journee'. Lay your little plan
now, which you will hereafter extend and improve by your own
observations, and by the advice of those who can never mean to mislead
you; I mean Mr. Harte and myself.

LETTER CXIV

LONDON, May 24., O. S. 1750

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 7th, N. S., from
Naples, to which place I find you have traveled, classically, critically,
and 'da virtuoso'. You did right, for whatever is worth seeing at, all,
is worth seeing well, and better than most people see it. It is a poor
and frivolous excuse, when anything curious is talked of that one has
seen, to say, I SAW IT, BUT REALLY I DID NOT MUCH MIND IT. Why did they
go to see it, if they would not mind it? or why not mind it when they saw
it? Now that you are at Naples, you pass part of your time there 'en