Voltaire sent me, from Berlin, his ’History du Siecle de Louis XIV.  It came at a very proper time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how history should be read; Voltaire shows me how it should be written.  I am sensible that it will meet with almost as many critics as readers.  Voltaire must be criticised; besides, every man’s favorite is attacked:  for every prejudice is exposed, and our prejudices are our mistresses; reason is at best our wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded.  It is the history of the human understanding, written by a man of parts, for the use of men of parts.  Weak minds will not like it, even though they do not understand it; which is commonly the measure of their admiration.  Dull ones will want those minute and uninteresting details with which most other histories are encumbered.  He tells me all I want to know, and nothing more.  His reflections are short, just, and produce others in his readers.  Free from religious, philosophical, political and national prejudices, beyond any historian I ever met with, he relates all those matters as truly and as impartially, as certain regards, which must always be to some degree observed, will allow him; for one sees plainly that he often says much less than he would say, if he might.  He hath made me much better acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV., than the innumerable volumes which I had read could do; and hath suggested this reflection to me, which I have never made before—­His vanity, not his knowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and sciences in his country.  He opened in a manner the human understanding in France, and brought it to its utmost perfection; his age equalled in all, and greatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, Pedants!) the Augustan.  This was great and rapid; but still it might be done, by the encouragement, the applause, and the rewards of a vain, liberal, and magnificent prince.  What is much more surprising is, that he stopped the operations of the human mind just where he pleased; and seemed to say, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.”  For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his power, free and rational thoughts upon either, never entered into a French head during his reign; and the greatest geniuses that ever any age produced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of Kings, or the infallibility of the Church.  Poets, Orators, and Philosophers, ignorant of their natural rights, cherished their chains; and blind, active faith triumphed, in those great minds, over silent and passive reason.  The reverse of this seems now to be the case in France:  reason opens itself; fancy and invention fade and decline.