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diff --git a/old/60071-0.txt b/old/60071-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0956325..0000000 --- a/old/60071-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3894 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Principles of politeness, and of knowing -the world, by Philip Dormer Stanhope (Earl of Chesterfield) - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Principles of politeness, and of knowing the world - -Author: Philip Dormer Stanhope (Earl of Chesterfield) - -Release Date: August 7, 2019 [EBook #60071] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCIPLES OF POLITENESS *** - - - - -Produced by Turgut Dincer, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - PRINCIPLES - OF POLITENESS, - AND OF - KNOWING THE WORLD. - - By the late LORD CHESTERFIELD. - - Methodised and digested under distinct Heads, - - WITH ADDITIONS, - - By the Rev. Dr. JOHN TRUSLER: - - CONTAINING - - Every Instruction necessary to complete the - GENTLEMAN and MAN OF FASHION; to - teach him a Knowledge of Life, and make - him well received in all Companies. - - TO WHICH IS NOW FIRST ANNEXED - - A FATHER’S LEGACY - TO HIS DAUGHTERS: - - By the late Dr. GREGORY, - OF EDINBURGH. - - The whole admirably calculated for the - IMPROVEMENT of YOUTH, yet not beneath - the attention of any. - - ------------------------------------------- - - PORTSMOUTH, NEW-HAMPSHIRE: - PRINTED BY MELCHER and OSBORNE. - M,DCC,LXXXVI. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration] - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - TO THE PORTSMOUTH EDITION. - - -The two parts of this work, which have heretofore been printed separate, -are now offered to the Public in one volume, as a system of polite and -moral instruction for both sexes: This edition is critically corrected, -with the special design of furnishing English schools, at a small -expence, with a proper book for reading and parsing their own language, -that the teacher may be provided with suitable means for mending the -manners of his pupils, while he informs their understandings, by -analyzing the grammatical construction, and pointing out the beauties of -the most approved style. - -PORTSMOUTH, Jan. 1786. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ADVERTISEMENT. - - -_The late Lord_ CHESTERFIELD _having been universally allowed to be one -of the best bred men of the age, and most intimately acquainted with the -principles and manners of mankind, the Editor of the following pages -humbly apprehends he could not do the rising generation a greater -service, than by collecting those valuable precepts which are contained -in his celebrated letters to his son, digesting them under distinct -heads, and thereby forming a system of the most useful instruction._ - -_To that end, he has diligently selected every observation and remark -that can possibly improve or inform the mind, within the rules of -morality: and where there seemed a deficiency in any part of the system, -from the occasional chasms in Lord Chesterfield’s correspondence, he has -endeavoured to supply it. Much might have been said on the subject of -indelicacy, but as instructions on that head, to persons possessed of a -liberal education, must have been unnecessary, they are here purposely -omitted. Some may be apt to think, that many things in this work are too -frivolous to be mentioned; but when it is remembered they are calculated -for the multitude, it is presumed they will be received as respectable -admonitions. In short, it has been the Editor’s study to make Lord -Chesterfield useful to every class of youth; to lay that instruction -before them, which they with difficulty must have found amidst a heap of -other matter; in a word, to give the very essence of his letters, and at -a tenth part of the_ price _those letters sell for_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PRINCIPLES - OF - POLITENESS, &c. - - ADDRESSED TO - EVERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN. - - -As all young men, on their first outset in life, are in want of some -experienced and friendly hand to bring them forward, and teach them a -knowledge of the world; I think I cannot do the rising generation a -greater service, than by directing the young man’s steps, and teaching -him how to make his way among the crowd. I will suppose him already -instructed in the principles of religion, and necessity of moral -virtues; (for without these he must be most unhappy) of course shall, in -a series of chapters, point out, under distinct heads, the -qualifications necessary to make him well received in the world; without -which, he cannot expect to bear his part in life, agreeably to his own -wishes, or the duty he owes to society; and as modesty is the basis of a -proper reception, I shall begin with that. - - - MODESTY. - -Modesty is a polite accomplishment, and generally an attendant upon -merit: It is engaging to the highest degree, and wins the heart of all -our acquaintance. On the contrary, none are more disgustful in company -than the impudent and presuming. - -THE man who is, on all occasions, commending and speaking well of -himself, we naturally dislike. On the other hand, he who studies to -conceal his own defects, who does justice to the merit of others, who -talks but little of himself, and that with modesty, makes a favourable -impression on the persons he is conversing with, captivates their minds, -and gains their esteem. - -MODESTY, however, widely differs from an awkward bashfulness, which is -as much to be condemned as the other is to be applauded. To appear -simple is as ill-bred as to be impudent. A young man ought to be able to -come into a room and address the company, without the least -embarrassment. To be out of countenance when spoken to, and not to have -an answer ready, is ridiculous to the last degree. - -AN awkward country fellow, when he comes into company better than -himself, is exceedingly disconcerted. He knows not what to do with his -hands, or his hat, but either puts one of them in his pocket, and -dangles the other by his side; or perhaps twirls his hat on his fingers, -or fumbles with the button. If spoken to, he is in a much worse -situation, he answers with the utmost difficulty, and nearly stammers; -whereas a gentleman, who is acquainted with life, enters a room with -gracefulness and a modest assurance, addresses even persons he does not -know, in an easy and natural manner, and without the least -embarrassment. This is the characteristic of good-breeding, a very -necessary knowledge in our intercourse with men; for one of inferior -parts, with the behaviour of a gentleman, is frequently better received -than a man of sense, with the address and manners of a clown. - -IGNORANCE and vice are the only things we need be ashamed of; steer -clear of these, and you may go into any company you will: Not that I -would have a young man throw off all dread of appearing abroad; as a -fear of offending, or being disesteemed, will make him observe a proper -decorum. Some persons from experiencing the inconveniencies of false -modesty, have run into the other extreme, and acquired the character of -impudent: This is as great a fault as the other. A well-bred man keeps -himself within the two, and steers the middle way. He is easy and firm -in every company, is modest but not bashful, steady but not impudent. He -copies the manners of the better people, and conforms to their customs -with ease and attention. - -TILL we can present ourselves in all companies with coolness and -unconcern, we can never present ourselves well; nor will a man ever be -supposed to have kept good company, or ever be acceptable in such -company, if he cannot appear there easy and unembarrassed. A modest -assurance, in every part of life, is the most advantageous qualification -we can possibly acquire. - -INSTEAD of becoming insolent, a man of sense, under a consciousness of -merit, is more modest. He behaves himself indeed with firmness, but -without the least presumption. The man who is ignorant of his own merit, -is no less a fool than he who is constantly displaying it. A man of -understanding avails himself of his abilities, but never boasts of them; -whereas the timid and bashful can never push himself in life, be his -merit as great as it will; he will be always kept behind by the forward -and bustling. A man of abilities, and acquainted with life, will stand -as firm in defence of his own rights, and pursue his plans as steadily -and unmoved, as the most impudent man alive; but then he does it with a -seeming modesty. Thus manner is every thing; what is impudence in one, -is proper assurance only in another; for firmness is commendable, but an -overbearing conduct is disgustful. - -FORWARDNESS being the very reverse of modesty, follow rather than lead -the company; that is, join in discourse upon subjects, rather than start -one of your own: If you have parts, you will have opportunities enough -of shewing them on every topic of conversation, and if you have none, it -is better to expose yourself upon a subject of other people’s than of -your own. - -BUT, be particularly careful not to speak of yourself, if you can help -it. An impudent fellow lugs in himself abruptly upon all occasions, and -is ever the hero of his own story. Others will colour their arrogance -with, ‘It may seem strange, indeed, that I should talk in this manner of -myself; it is what I by no means like, and should never do, if I had not -been cruelly and unjustly accused; but when my character is attacked, it -is a justice I owe to myself, to defend it.’ This veil is too thin not -to be seen through on the first inspection. - -OTHERS again, with more art, will _modestly_ boast of all the principal -virtues, by calling those virtues weaknesses, and saying, they are so -unfortunate as to fall into weaknesses. ‘I cannot see persons suffer,’ -says one of this cast, ‘without relieving them; though my circumstances -are very unable to afford it.’ ‘I cannot avoid speaking truth, though it -is often very imprudent,’ and so on. - -THIS angling for praise is so prevailing a principle, that it frequently -stoops to the lowest objects. Men will often boast of doing that, which, -if true, would be rather a disgrace to them than otherwise. One man -affirms that he rode twenty miles within the hour; ’tis probably a lie; -but suppose he did, what then? He had a good horse under him, and is a -good jockey. Another swears he has often at a sitting, drank five or six -bottles to his own share. Out of respect to him, I will believe _him_ a -liar, for I would not wish to think him a beast. - -THESE and many more are the follies of idle people, which, while they -think they procure them esteem, in reality make them despised. - -TO avoid this contempt, therefore, never speak of yourself at all, -unless necessity obliges you; and even then, take care to do it in such -a manner, that it may not be construed in to fishing for applause. -Whatever perfections you may have, be assured, people will find them -out; but whether they do or not, nobody will take them upon your own -word. The less you say of yourself, the more the world will give you -credit for; and the more you say, the less they will believe you. - - - LYING. - -OF all the vices, there is no one more criminal, more mean, and more -ridiculous, than lying. The end we design by it is very seldom -accomplished, for lies are always found out, at one time or other; and -yet there are persons who give way to this vice, who are otherwise of -good principles, and have not been ill educated. - -LIES generally proceed from vanity, cowardice, and a revengeful -disposition, and sometimes from a mistaken notion of self-defence. - -HE who tells a malicious lie, with a view of injuring the person he -speaks of, may gratify his wish for a while, but will, in the end, find -it recoil upon himself; for, as soon as he is detected (and detected he -most certainly will be) he is despised for the infamous attempt, and -whatever he may say hereafter of that person, will be considered as -false, whether it be so or not. - -IF a man lies, shuffles, or equivocates, for, in fact, they are all -alike, by way of excuse for any thing he has said or done, he aggravates -the offence rather than lessens it; for the person to whom the lie is -told has a right to know the truth, or there would have been no occasion -to have framed a falsehood. This person, of course, will think himself -ill treated for being a second time affronted; for what can be a greater -affront than an attempt to impose upon any man’s understanding? Besides, -lying, in excuse for a fault, betrays fear, than which nothing is more -dastardly, and unbecoming the character of a gentleman. - -THERE is nothing more manly, or more noble, if we have done wrong, than -frankly to own it. It is the only way of meeting forgiveness. Indeed, -confessing a fault and asking pardon, with great minds, is considered as -a sufficient atonement. ‘I have been betrayed into an error,’ or ‘I have -injured you, Sir, and am heartily ashamed of it, and sorry for it,’ has -frequently disarmed the person injured, and where he would have been our -enemy, has made him our friend. - -THERE are persons also, whose _vanity_ leads them to tell a thousand -lies. They persuade themselves, that if it be no way injurious to -others, it is harmless and innocent, and they shelter their falsehoods -under the softer name of _untruths_. These persons are foolish enough to -imagine, that if they can recite any thing wonderful, they draw the -attention of the company, and if they themselves are the objects of that -wonder, they are looked up to as persons extraordinary. This has made -many men to see things that never were in being, hear things that never -were said, atchieve feats that never were attempted, dealing always in -the marvellous. Such may be assured, however unwilling the persons they -are conversing with may be to laugh in their faces, that they hold them -secretly in the highest contempt; for he who will tell a lie thus idly, -will not scruple to tell a greater, where his interest is concerned. -Rather than any person should doubt of my veracity for one minute, I -would deprive myself of telling abroad either what I had really seen or -heard, if such things did not carry with them the face of probability. - -OTHERS again will boast of the great respect they meet with in certain -companies; of the honors that are continually heaped on them there; of -the great price they give for every thing they purchase; and this to be -thought of consequence; but, unless such people have the best and most -accurate memory, they will, perhaps, very soon after, contradict their -former assertions, and subject themselves to contempt and derision. - -REMEMBER then as long as you live, that nothing but strict truth can -carry you through life with honor and credit. Liars are not only -disagreeable but dangerous companions, and, when known, will ever be -shunned by men of understanding. Besides, as the greatest liars are -generally the greatest fools, a man who addicts himself to this -detestable vice, will not only be looked upon as vulgar, but will never -be considered as a man of sense. - - - GOOD-BREEDING. - -VOID of good-breeding, every other qualification will be imperfect, -unadorned, and to a certain degree unavailing. - -GOOD-BREEDING being the result of good sense and good nature, is it not -wonderful that people possessed of the one, should be deficient in the -other? The modes of it, varying according to persons, places, and -circumstances, cannot indeed be acquired otherwise than by time and -observation, but the substance is every where and always the same. - -WHAT good morals are to society in general, good manners are to -particular ones; their band and security. Of all actions, next to that -of performing a good one, the consciousness of rendering a civility is -the most grateful. - -WE seldom see a person, let him be ever so ill-bred, want in respect to -those whom he acknowledges to be his superiors; the manner of shewing -this respect, then, is all I contend for. The well-bred man expresses it -naturally and easily, while he who is unused to good company expresses -it awkwardly. Study, then, to shew that respect which every one wishes -to shew, in an easy and grateful way; but this must be learnt by -observation. - -IN company with your equals, or in mixed companies, a greater latitude -may be taken in your behaviour; yet, it should never exceed the bounds -of decency; for, though no one in this case, can claim any distinguished -marks of respect, every one is entitled to civility and good manners. A -man need not, for example, fear to put his hands in his pockets, take -snuff, sit, stand, or occasionally walk about the room; but it would be -highly unbecoming to whistle, wear his hat, loosen his garters, or throw -himself across the chairs. Such liberties are offensive to our equals, -and insulting to our inferiors. Easiness of carriage by no means implies -inattention and carelessness. No one is at liberty to act, in all -respects, as he pleases; but is bound by the laws of good manners to -behave with decorum. - -LET a man talk to you ever so stupidly or frivolously, not to pay some -attention to what he says, is savageness to the greatest degree. Nay, if -he even forces his conversation to you, it is worse than rudeness not to -listen to him; for your inattention in this case, tells him, in express -terms, that you think him a blockhead and not worth the hearing. Now, if -such behaviour is rude to men, it is much more so to women, who, be -their rank what it will, have, on account of their sex, a claim to -officious attention from the men. Their little wants and whims, their -likes and dislikes, and even their impertinences, are particularly -attended to and flattered, and their very thoughts and wishes guessed at -and instantly gratified, by every well-bred man. - -IN promiscuous companies, you should vary your address, agreeably to the -different ages of the persons you speak to. It would be rude and absurd -to talk of your amours or your pleasures to men of certain dignity and -gravity, to clergymen, or men in years; but still you should be as easy -with them as with others, your manner only should be varied; you should, -if possible, double your respect and attention to them; and were you to -insinuate occasionally, that from their observation and experience you -wish to profit, you would insensibly win their esteem; for flattery, if -not fulsome and gross, is agreeable to all. - -WHEN invited to dinner or supper, you must never usurp to yourself the -best places, the best dishes, &c. but always decline them, and offer -them to others, except, indeed, you are offered any thing by a superior, -when it would be a rudeness, if you liked it, not to accept it -immediately, without the least apology.—Thus, for example, was a -superior, the master of the table, to offer you a thing of which there -was but one, to pass it to the person next you, would be indirectly -charging him that offered it to you, with a want of good manners and -proper respect to his company; or, if you were the only stranger -present, it would be a rudeness if you make a feint of refusing it with -the customary apology, ‘I cannot think of taking it from you, sir;’ or, -‘I am sorry to deprive you of it;’ as it is supposed he is conscious of -his own rank, and if he chose not to give it, would not have offered it; -your apology therefore, in this case, is putting him upon an equality -with yourself. In like manner, it is rudeness to draw back when -requested by a superior to pass a door first, or to step into a carriage -before him. In short, it would be endless to particularise all the -instances in which a well-bred man shews his politeness in good company, -such as not yawning, singing, whistling, warming his breech at the fire, -lounging, putting his legs upon the chairs, and the like, familiarities -every man’s good sense must condemn, and good-breeding abhor. - -BUT, good-breeding consists in more than merely not being ill-bred. To -return a bow, speak when you are spoken to, and say nothing rude, are -such negative acts of good-breeding, that they are little more than not -being a brute. Would it not be a very poor commendation of any man’s -cleanliness, to say that he was not offensive? If we wish for the good -will and esteem of our acquaintance, our good-breeding must be active, -cheerful, officious and seducing. - -FOR example, should you invite any one to dine or sup with you, -recollect whether ever you had observed them to prefer one thing to -another, and endeavour to procure that thing; when at table, say, ‘At -such a time, I think you seemed to give this dish a preference, I -therefore ordered it.’ ‘This is the wine I observed you like best, I -have therefore been at some pains to procure it.’ Trifling as these -things may appear, they prove an attention to the person they are said -to; and as attention in trifles is the test of respect, the compliment -will not be lost. - -I NEED only refer you to your own breast. How have these little -attentions, when shewn you by others, flattered that self-love which no -man is free from? They incline and attach us to that person, and -prejudice us afterwards, to all that he says or does. The declaration of -the women in a great degree stamps a man’s reputation of being either -ill or well-bred; you must then, in a manner, overwhelm them with these -attentions; they are used to them, and naturally expect them, and to do -them justice, they are seldom lost upon them. You must be sedulous to -wait upon them, pick up with alacrity any thing they drop, and be very -officious in procuring their carriages or their chairs in public places; -be blind to what you should not see, and deaf to what you should not -hear. Opportunities of shewing these attentions are continually -presenting themselves; but in case they should not, you must study to -create them. - -IF ever you would be esteemed by the women, your conversation to them -should be always respectful, lively, and addressed to their vanity. -Every thing you say or do, should tend to shew a regard to their beauty -or good sense: Even men are not without their vanities of one kind or -another, and flattering that vanity by words and looks of approbation, -is one of the principal characters of good-breeding. - -ADDRESS and manners, with weak persons, who are actually three-fourths -of the world, are every thing; and even people of the best understanding -are taken in with them. Where the heart is not won, and the eye pleased, -the mind will be seldom on our side. - -IN short, learning and erudition, without good-breeding, are tiresome -and pedantic; and an ill-bred man is as unfit for good company, as he -will be unwelcome in it. Nay, he is full as unfit for business as for -company. Make, then, good-breeding the great object of your thoughts and -actions. Be particularly observant of, and endeavour to imitate, the -behaviour and manners of such as are distinguished by their politeness; -and be persuaded, that good-breeding is to all worldly qualifications, -what charity is to all Christian virtues; it adorns merit, and often -covers the want of it. - - - GENTEEL CARRIAGE. - -NEXT to good-breeding is a genteel manner and carriage, wholly free from -those ill habits and awkward actions, which many very worthy persons are -addicted to. - -A GENTEEL manner of behaviour, how trifling so-ever it may seem, is of -the utmost consequence in private life. Men of very inferior parts have -been esteemed, merely for their genteel carriage and good-breeding, -while sensible men have given disgust for want of it. There is something -or other that prepossesses us at first sight, in favour of a well-bred -man, and makes us wish to like him. - -WHEN an awkward fellow first comes into a room, he attempts to bow, and -his sword, if he wears one, goes between his legs, and nearly throws him -down. Confused and ashamed, he stumbles to the upper end of the room, -and seats himself in the very chair he should not. He there begins -playing with his hat, which he presently drops; and recovering his hat, -he lets fall his cane; and in picking up his cane, down goes his hat -again; thus ’tis a considerable time before he is adjusted. When his tea -or coffee is handed to him, he spreads his handkerchief upon his knees, -scalds his mouth, drops either the cup or the saucer, and spills the tea -or coffee in his lap. At dinner he is more uncommonly awkward; there he -tucks his napkin through a button-hole, which tickles his chin, and -occasions him to make a variety of wry faces; he seats himself upon the -edge of the chair, at so great a distance from the table, that he -frequently drops his meat between his plate and his mouth; he holds his -knife, fork and spoon differently from other people; eats with his -knife, to the manifest danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with his -fork, rakes his mouth with his finger, and puts his spoon which has been -in his throat a dozen times, into the dish again. If he is to carve, he -cannot hit the joint, but in labouring to cut through the bone, splashes -the sauce over every body’s cloaths. He generally daubs himself all -over, his elbows are in the next person’s plate, and he is up to the -knuckles in soup and grease. If he drinks, it is with his mouth full, -interrupting the whole company with ‘To your good health, sir,’ and ‘My -service to you;’ perhaps coughs in his glass, and be-sprinkles the whole -table. Further, he has perhaps a number of disagreeable tricks, he -snuffs up his nose, picks it with his fingers, blows it, and looks in -his handkerchief, crams his hands first into his bosom, and next into -his breeches. In short, he neither dresses nor acts like any other -person, but is particularly awkward in every thing he does. All this, I -own, has nothing in it criminal; but it is such an offence to good -manners and good-breeding, that it is universally despised; it makes a -man ridiculous in every company, and, of course, ought carefully to be -avoided by every one who would wish to please. - -FROM this picture of the ill-bred man, you will easily discover that of -the well-bred; for you may readily judge what you ought to do, when you -are told what you ought not to do; a little attention to the manners of -those who have seen the world, will make a proper behaviour habitual and -familiar to you. - -ACTIONS, that would otherwise be pleasing, frequently become ridiculous -by the manner of doing them. If a lady drop her fan in company, the -worst-bred man would immediately pick it up, and give it to her; the -best bred man can do no more; but then he does it in a graceful manner, -that is sure to please; whereas the other would do it so awkwardly as to -be laughed at. - -YOU may also know a well-bred person by his manner of sitting. Ashamed -and confused, the awkward man sits in his chair stiff and bolt upright, -whereas the man of fashion, is easy in every position; instead of -lolling or lounging as he sits, he leans with elegance, and by varying -his attitudes, shews that he has been used to good company. Let it be -one part of your study then, to learn to sit genteely in different -companies, to loll gracefully, where you are authorized to take that -liberty, and sit up respectfully, where that freedom is not allowable. - -IN short, you cannot conceive how advantageous a graceful carriage and a -pleasing address are, upon all occasions; they ensnare the affections, -seal a prepossession in our favour, and play about the heart till they -engage it. - -NOW to acquire a graceful air, you must attend to your dancing; no one -can either sit, stand or walk well, unless he dances well. And, in -learning to dance, be particularly attentive to the motion of your arms, -for a stiffness in the wrist will make any man look awkward. If a man -walks well, presents himself well in company, wears his hat well, moves -his head properly, and his arms gracefully, it is almost all that is -necessary. - -THERE is also an awkwardness in speech, that naturally falls under this -head, and ought to and may be guarded against; such as forgetting names, -and mistaking one name for another; to speak of Mr. What-d’ye-call-him, -or You-know-who, Mrs. Thingum, What’s-her-name, or How-d’ye-call-her, is -exceedingly awkward and vulgar. It is the same to address people by -improper titles, as _sir_ for _my lord_; to begin a story without being -able to finish it, and break off in the middle, with, ‘I have forgot the -rest.’ - -OUR voice and manner of speaking too, should likewise be attended to. -Some will mumble over their words, so as not to be intelligible, and -others will speak so fast as not to be understood, and, in doing this, -will spatter and spit in your face; some will bawl as if they were -speaking to the deaf; others will speak so low as scarcely to be heard; -and many will put their face so close to yours, as to offend you with -their breath. All these habits are horrid and disgustful, but may easily -be got the better of, with care. They are the vulgar characteristics of -a low-bred man, or are proofs that very little pains have been bestowed -in his education. In short, an attention to these little matters is of -greater importance than you are aware of; many sensible men having lost -ground for want of these little graces, and many, possessed of these -perfections alone, having made their way through life, who otherwise -would not have been noticed. - - - CLEANLINESS OF PERSON. - -BUT, as no one can please in company, however graceful in his air, -unless he be clean and neat in his person, this qualification comes next -to be considered. - -NEGLIGENCE of one’s person not only implies an unsufferable indolence, -but an indifference whether we please or not. It betrays an insolence -and affectation, arising from a presumption, that we are sure of -pleasing, without having recourse to those means which many are obliged -to use. - -HE who is not thoroughly clean in his person, will be offensive to all -he converses with. A particular regard to the cleanliness of your mouth, -teeth, hands and nails, is but common decency. A foul mouth and unclean -hands, are certain marks of vulgarity; the first is the cause of an -offensive breath, which nobody can bear, and the last is declarative of -dirty work; one may always know a gentleman by the state of his hands -and nails. The flesh at the roots should be kept back, so as to shew the -semicircles at the bottom of the nails; the edges of the nails should -never be cut down below the ends of the fingers, nor should they be -suffered to grow longer than the fingers. When the nails are cut down to -the quick, it is a shrewd sign that the man is a mechanic, to whom long -nails would be troublesome, or that he gets his bread by fiddling; and -if they are longer than his fingers’ ends, and encircled with a black -rim, it foretells he has been laboriously and meanly employed, and too -fatigued to clean himself; a good apology for want of cleanliness in a -mechanic, but the greatest disgrace that can attend a gentleman. - -THESE things may appear too insignificant to be mentioned; but when it -is considered that a thousand little nameless things, which every one -feels, but no one can describe, conspire to form that _whole_ of -pleasing, I hope you will not call them trifling. Besides, a clean shirt -and a clean person are as necessary to health, as not to offend other -people. It is a maxim with me, which I have lived to see verified, that -he who is negligent at twenty years of age, will be a sloven at forty, -and intolerable at fifty. - - - DRESS. - -NEATNESS of person, I observed, was as necessary as cleanliness; of -course, some attention must be paid to your dress. - -SUCH is the absurdity of the times, that to pass well with the world, we -must adopt some of its customs, be they ridiculous or not. - -IN the first place, to neglect one’s dress is to affront all the female -part of our acquaintance. The women in particular pay an attention to -their dress; to neglect therefore yours will displease them, as it would -be tacitly taxing them with vanity, and declaring that you thought them -not worth that respect which every body else does. And, as I have -mentioned before, it being the women who stamp a young man’s credit in -the fashionable world, if you do not make yourself agreeable to them, -you will assuredly lose ground among the men. - -DRESS, as trifling as it may appear to a man of understanding, -prepossesses on the first appearance, which is frequently decisive. And -indeed we form some opinion of a man’s sense and character from his -dress. Any exceeding of the fashion, or any affectation whatever in -dress, argues a weakness in understanding, and nine times in ten, it -will be found so. - -THERE are few young fellows but what display some character or other in -this shape. Some would be thought fearless and brave; these wear a black -cravat, a short coat and waistcoat, an uncommon long sword hanging to -their knees, a large hat fiercely cocked, and are _flash_ all over. -Others affect to be country squires; these will go about in buckskin -breeches, brown frocks, and great oaken cudgels in their hands, slouched -hats, with their hair undressed and tucked up under them to an enormous -size, and imitate grooms and country boobies so well externally, that -there is not the least doubt of their resembling them as well -internally. Others, again, paint and powder themselves so much, and -dress so finically, as leads us to suppose they are only women in boy’s -cloaths. Now a sensible man carefully avoids all this, or any other -affectation. He dresses as fashionably and as well as persons of the -best families and best sense; if he exceeds them, he is a coxcomb; if he -dresses worse, he is unpardonable. - -DRESS yourself fine, then, if possible, or plain, agreeably to the -company you are in; that is, conform to the dress of others, and avoid -the appearance of being tumbled. Imitate those reasonable people of your -own age, whose dress is neither remarked as too neglected or too much -studied. Take care to have your clothes well made, in the fashion, and -to fit you, or you will, after all, appear awkward. When once dressed, -think no more of it; shew no fear of discomposing your dress, but let -all your motions be as easy and unembarrassed, as if you were at home in -your dishabille. - - - ELEGANCE OF EXPRESSION. - -HAVING mentioned elegance of person, I will proceed to elegance of -expression. - -IT is not one or two qualifications alone complete the gentleman; it -must be a union of many; and graceful speaking is as essential as -gracefulness of person. Every man cannot be a harmonious speaker; a -roughness or coarseness of voice may prevent it; but if there are no -natural imperfections, if a man does not stammer or lisp, or has not -lost his teeth, he may speak gracefully; nor will all these defects, if -he has a mind to it, prevent him from speaking correctly. - -NOBODY can attend with pleasure to a bad speaker. One who tells his -story ill, be it ever so important, will tire even the most patient. If -you have been present at the performance of a good tragedy, you have -doubtless been sensible of the good effects of a speech well delivered; -how much it has interested and affected you; and on the contrary, how -much an ill spoken one has disgusted you. ’Tis the same in common -conversation; he who speaks deliberately, distinctly and correctly: He -who makes use of the best words to express himself, and varies his voice -according to the nature of the subject, will always please, while the -thick or hasty speaker, he who mumbles out a set of ill-chosen words, -utters them ingrammatically, or with a dull monotony, will tire and -disgust. Be assured then, the air, the gesture, the looks of a speaker, -a proper accent, a just emphasis, and tuneful cadence, are full as -necessary to please and be attended to, as the subject matter itself. - -PEOPLE may talk what they will of solid reasoning and sound sense; -without the graces and ornaments of language, they will neither please -nor persuade. In common discourse, even trifles elegantly expressed will -be better received than the best of arguments homespun and unadorned. - -A GOOD way to acquire a graceful utterance is to read aloud to some -friend every day, and beg of him to set you right, in case you read too -fast, do not observe the proper stops, lay a wrong emphasis, or utter -your words indistinctly. You may even read aloud to yourself, where such -a friend is not at hand, and you will find your own ear a good -corrector. Take care to open your teeth when you read or speak, and -articulate every word distinctly; which last cannot be done, but by -sounding the final letter. But above all, endeavour to vary your voice, -according to the matter, and avoid a monotony. By a daily attention to -this, it will, in a little time, become easy and habitual to you. - -PAY an attention also to your looks and your gestures, when talking even -on the most trifling subjects; things appear very different according as -they are expressed, looked and delivered. - -NOW, if it is necessary to attend so particularly to our _manner_ of -speaking, it is much more so, with respect to the _matter_. Fine turns -of expression, a genteel and correct style, are ornaments as requisite -to common sense, as polite behaviour and an elegant address are to -common good manners; they are great assistants in the point of pleasing. -A gentleman, ’tis true, may be known in the meanest garb, but it admits -not of a doubt, that he would be better received into good company, -genteelly and fashionably dressed, than if he appeared in dirt and -tatters. - -BE careful then of your style upon all occasions; whether you write or -speak, study for the best words and best expressions, even in common -conversation, or the most familiar letters. This will prevent your -speaking in a hurry, than which nothing is more vulgar; though you may -be a little embarrassed at first, time and use will render it easy. It -is no such difficult thing to express ourselves well on subjects we are -thoroughly acquainted with, if we think before we speak; and no one -should presume to do otherwise. When you have said a thing, if you did -not reflect before, be sure to do it afterwards; consider with yourself, -whether you could not have expressed yourself better; and if you are in -doubt of the propriety or elegancy of any word, search for it in some -dictionary,[1] or some good author, while you remember it: Never be -sparing of your trouble while you would wish to improve, and my word for -it, a very little time will make this matter habitual. - -Footnote 1: - - Johnson’s folio Dictionary _you will find very serviceable_; _and the_ - Difference between Words reputed synonimous; _a work in two volumes, - written by me some years ago, and published by Dodsley_. - -IN order to speak grammatically, and to express yourself pleasingly, I -would recommend it to you to translate often any language you are -acquainted with into English, and to correct such translation till the -words, their order, and the periods, are agreeable to your own ear. - -VULGARISM in language is another distinguishing mark of bad company and -education. Expressions may be correct in themselves, and yet be vulgar, -owing to their not being fashionable; for language and manners are both -established by the usage of people of fashion. - -THE conversation of a low-bred man is filled up with proverbs and -hackneyed sayings. Instead of observing that tastes are different, and -that most men have one peculiar to themselves, he will give you, ‘What -is one man’s meat is another man’s poison;’ or, ‘Every one to their -liking, as the old woman said, when she killed her cow.’ He has ever -some favourite word, which he lugs in upon all occasions, right or -wrong; such as _vastly_ angry, _vastly_ kind; _devilish_ ugly, -_devilish_ handsome; _immensely_ great, _immensely_ little. Even his -pronunciation carries the mark of vulgarity along with it; he calls the -earth, _yearth_; finan’ces, _fin’ances_; he goes _to words_, and not -towards such a place. He affects to use hard words, to give him the -appearance of a man of learning, but frequently mistakes their meaning, -and seldom, if ever, pronounces them properly. - -ALL this must be avoided, if you would not be supposed to have kept -company with footmen and housemaids. Never have recourse to proverbial -or vulgar sayings; use neither favourite nor hard words, but seek for -the most elegant; be careful in the management of them, and depend on it -your labour will not be lost; for nothing is more engaging than a -fashionable and polite address. - - - ADDRESS, PHRASEOLOGY, AND SMALL-TALK. - -IN all good company, we meet with a certain manner, phraseology, and -general conversation, that distinguish the man of fashion. These can -only be acquired by frequenting good company, and being particularly -attentive to all that passes there. - -WHEN invited to dine or sup at the house of any well-bred man, observe -how he does the honors of his table, and mark his manner of treating his -company. - -ATTEND to the compliments of congratulation or condolence that he pays; -and take notice of his address to his superiors, his equals and his -inferiors; nay, his very looks and tone of voice, are worth your -attention, for we cannot please without a union of them all. - -THERE is a certain distinguishing diction that marks the man of fashion, -a certain language of conversation that every gentleman should be master -of. Saying to a man just married, ‘I wish you joy,’ or to one who has -lost his wife, ‘I am sorry for your loss,’ and both perhaps with an -unmeaning countenance, may be civil, but it is nevertheless vulgar. A -man of fashion will express the same thing more elegantly, and with a -look of sincerity, that shall attract the esteem of the person he speaks -to. He will advance to the one, with warmth and cheerfulness, and -perhaps squeezing him by the hand, will say, ‘Believe me, my dear Sir, I -have scarce words to express the joy I feel, upon your happy alliance -with such or such a family,’ &c. To the other in affliction, he will -advance slower, and with a peculiar composure of voice and countenance, -begin his compliments of condolence with, ‘I hope, Sir, you will do me -the justice to be persuaded, that I am not insensible of your -unhappiness, that I take part in your distress, and shall ever be -affected where _you_ are so.’ - -YOUR first address to, and indeed all your conversation with, your -superiors, should be open, cheerful and respectful; with your equals -warm and animated; with your inferiors, hearty, free and unreserved. - -THERE is a fashionable kind of small-talk, which however trifling it may -be thought, has its use in mixed companies: Of course you should -endeavour to acquire it. By small-talk, I mean a good deal to say on -unimportant matters; for example, foods, the flavour and growth of -wines, and the chit-chat of the day. Such conversation will serve to -keep off serious subjects, that might sometimes create disputes. This -chit-chat is chiefly to be learned by frequenting the company of the -ladies. - - - OBSERVATION. - -AS the art of pleasing is to be learnt only by frequenting the best -companies, we must endeavor to pick it up in such companies by -observation; for, it is not sense and knowledge alone that will acquire -esteem; these certainly are the first and necessary foundations for -pleasing, but they will by no means do, unless attended with manners and -attentions. - -THERE have been people who have frequented the first companies all their -life time, and yet have never got rid of their natural stiffness and -awkwardness; but have continued as vulgar as if they were never out of a -servant’s hall: This has been owing to carelessness, and a want of -attention to the manners and behaviour of others. - -THERE are a great many people likewise who busy themselves the whole -day, and who in fact do nothing. They have possibly taken up a book -for two or three hours, but from a certain inattention that grows upon -them the more it is indulged, know no more of the contents than if -they had not looked into it; nay, it is impossible for any one to -retain what he reads, unless he reflects and reasons upon it as he -goes on. When they have thus lounged away an hour or two, they will -saunter into company, without attending to any thing that passes -there; but, if they think at all, are thinking of some trifling matter -that ought not to occupy their attention; thence perhaps they go to -the play, where they stare at the company and the lights, without -attending to the piece, the very thing they went to see. In this -manner they wear away their hours, that might otherwise be employed to -their improvement and advantage. This silly suspension of thought they -would pass for _absence of mind_—ridiculous!—Wherever you are, let me -recommend it to you to pay an attention to all that passes; observe -the characters of the persons you are with, and the subjects of their -conversation; listen to every thing that is said, see every thing that -is done, and (according to the vulgar saying) have your eyes and your -ears about you. - -A CONTINUAL inattention to matters that occur, is the characteristic of -a weak mind; the man who gives way to it, is little else than a trifler, -a blank in society, which every sensible person overlooks; surely what -is worth doing, is worth doing well, and nothing can be well done, if -not properly attended to. When I hear a man say, on being asked about -any thing that was said or done in his presence, ‘that truly he did not -mind it.’ I am ready to knock the fool down. _Why_ did not he mind -it?—What else had he to do?—A man of sense and fashion never makes use -of this paltry plea, he never complains of a treacherous memory, but -attends to and remembers every thing that is either said or done. - -WHENEVER, then, you go into good company, that is the company of people -of fashion, observe carefully their behaviour, their address and their -manner; imitate them as far as in your power. Your attention, if -possible, should be so ready as to observe every person in the room at -once, their motions, their looks, and their turns of expression, and -that without staring, or seeming to be an observer. This kind of -observation may be acquired by care and practice, and will be found of -the utmost advantage to you, in the course of life. - - - ABSENCE OF MIND. - -HAVING mentioned absence of mind, let me be more particular concerning -it. - -WHAT the world calls an absent man, is generally either a very affected -one, or a very weak one; but whether weak or affected, he is, in -company, a very disagreeable man. Lost in thought, or possibly in no -thought at all, he is a stranger to every one present, and to every -thing that passes; he knows not his best friends, is deficient in every -act of good manners, unobservant of the actions of the company, and -insensible to his own. His answers are quite the reverse of what they -ought to be; talk to him of one thing, he replies, as of another. He -forgets what he said last, leaves his hat in one room, his cane in -another, and his sword in a third; nay, if it was not for his buckles, -he would even leave his shoes behind him. Neither his arms nor his legs -seem to be a part of his body, and his head is never in a right -position. He joins not in the general conversation, except it be by fits -and starts, as if awaking from a dream: I attribute this either to -weakness or affectation. His shallow mind is possibly not able to attend -to more than one thing at a time; or he would be supposed wrap’d up in -the investigation of some very important matter. Such men as Sir Isaac -Newton or Mr. Locke, might occasionally have some excuse for absence of -mind! It might proceed from that intenseness of thought which was -necessary at all times for the scientific subjects they were studying; -but, for a young man, and a man of the world, who has no such plea to -make, absence of mind is rudeness to the company, and deserves the -severest censure. - -HOWEVER insignificant a company may be; however trifling their -conversation; while you are with them, do not shew them, by an -inattention, that you think them trifling; that can never be the way to -please, but rather fall in with their weakness than otherwise; for to -mortify, or shew the least contempt to those we are in company with, is -the greatest rudeness we can be guilty of, and what few can forgive. - -I NEVER yet found a man inattentive to the person he feared, or the -woman he loved; which convinces me, that absence of mind is to be got -the better of, if we think proper to make the trial; and believe me, it -is always worth the attempt. - -ABSENCE of mind is a tacit declaration, that those we are in company -with, are not worth attending to; and what can be a greater -affront?——Besides, can an absent man improve by what is said or done in -his presence? No; he may frequent the best companies for years together, -and all to no purpose. In short, a man is neither fit for business nor -conversation, unless he can attend to the object before him, be that -object what it will. - - - KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. - -A KNOWLEDGE of the world, by our own experience and observation, is so -necessary, that, without it, we shall act very absurdly, and frequently -give offence, when we do not mean it. All the learning and parts in the -world, will not secure us from it. Without an acquaintance with life, a -man may say very good things, but time them so ill, and address them so -improperly, that he had much better be silent. Full of himself, and his -own business, and inattentive to the circumstances and situations of -those he converses with, he vents it without the least discretion, says -things that he ought not to say, confuses some, shocks others, and puts -the whole company in pain, lest what he utters next should prove worse -than the last. The best direction I can give you in this matter, is -rather to fall in with the conversation of others, than start a subject -of your own; rather strive to put them more in conceit with themselves, -than to draw their attention to you. - -A NOVICE in life, he who knows little of mankind, but what he collects -from books, lays it down as a maxim, that most men love flattery; in -order therefore to please, he will flatter. But how? Without regard -either to circumstances or occasion. Instead of those delicate touches, -those soft tints, that serve to heighten the piece, he lays on his -colours with a heavy hand, and daubs, where he means to adorn; in other -words, he will flatter so unseasonably, and at the same time so grossly, -that while he wishes to please, he puts out of countenance, and is sure -to offend. On the contrary, a man of the world, one who has made life -his study, knows the power of flattery as well as he; but, then, he -knows how to apply it; he watches the opportunity, and does it -indirectly, by inference, comparison and hint. - -MAN is made up of such a variety of matter, that to search him -thoroughly, requires time and attention; for, though we are all made of -the same materials, and have all the same passions, yet, from a -difference in their proportion and combination, we vary in our -dispositions; what is agreeable to one is disagreeable to another, and -what one shall approve, another shall condemn. Reason is given us to -controul these passions, but seldom does it. Application therefore to -the reason of any man, will frequently prove ineffectual, unless we -endeavour at the same time to gain his heart. - -WHEREVER then you are, search into the characters of men; find out if -possible, their foible, their governing passion, or their particular -merit; take them on their weak side, and you will generally succeed; -their prevailing vanity you may readily discover, by observing their -favourite topic of conversation; for every one talks most, of what he -would be thought most to excel in. - -THE time should also be judiciously made choice of. Every man has his -particular times, when he may be applied to with success, the _mollia -tempora fandi_; but these times are not all day long, they must be found -out, watched, and taken advantage of. You could not hope for success in -applying to a man about one business, when he was taken up with another, -or when his mind was affected with excess of grief, anger, or the like. - -YOU cannot judge of other men’s minds better than by studying your own; -for though one man has one foible, and another has another, yet men, in -general, are very much alike. Whatever pleases or offends you, will, in -similar circumstances, please or offend others; if you find yourself -hurt, when another makes you feel his superiority, you will certainly -upon the common rule of right, _Do as you would be done by_, take care -not to let another feel _your_ superiority, if you have it; especially -if you wish to gain his interest or esteem. If disagreeable -insinuations, open contradictions, or oblique sneers, vex and anger you, -would you use them where you wished to please? Certainly not. Observe -then, with care, the operations of your own mind, and you may, in a -great measure, read all mankind. - -I WILL allow that one bred up in a cloister or college, may reason well -on the structure of the human mind; he may investigate the nature of -man, and give a tolerable account of his head, his heart, his passions, -and his sentiments: but at the same time he may know nothing of him; he -has not lived with him, and of course knows but little how those -sentiments or those passions will work.—He must be ignorant of the -various prejudices, propensities and antipathies, that always bias him, -and frequently determine him. His knowledge is acquired only from -theory, which differs widely from practice; and if he forms his judgment -from that alone, he must be often deceived; whereas a man of the world, -one who collects his knowledge from his own experience and observation, -is seldom wrong; he is well acquainted with the operations of the human -mind; prys into the heart of man; reads his words, before they are -uttered; sees his actions, before they are performed; knows what will -please and what will displease, and foresees the event of most things. - -LABOUR then to acquire this intuitive knowledge; attend carefully to the -address, the arts and manners of those acquainted with life, and -endeavour to imitate them. Observe the means they take, to gain the -favour, and conciliate the affections of those they associate with; -pursue those means, and you will soon gain the esteem of all that know -you. - -HOW often have we seen men governed by persons very much their inferiors -in point of understanding, and even without their knowing it? A proof -that some men have more worldly dexterity than others; they find out the -weak and unguarded part, make their attack there, and the man -surrenders. - -NOW from a knowledge of mankind we shall learn the advantage of two -things, the command of our temper and countenances; a trifling, -disagreeable incident shall perhaps anger one unacquainted with life, or -confound him with shame; shall make him rave like a madman, or look like -a fool; but a man of the world will never understand what he cannot or -ought not to resent. If he should chance to make a slip himself, he will -stifle his confusion, and turn it off with a jest, recovering it with -coolness. - -MANY people have sense enough to keep their own secrets; but from being -unused to a variety of company, have unfortunately such a tell-tale -countenance, as involuntarily declares what they would wish to conceal. -This is a great unhappiness, and should, as soon as possible, be got the -better of. - -THAT coolness of mind, and evenness of countenance, which prevent a -discovery of our sentiments, by our words, our actions, or our looks, -are too necessary to pass unnoticed. A man who cannot hear displeasing -things, without visible marks of anger or uneasiness; or pleasing ones, -without a sudden burst of joy, a cheerful eye, or an expanded face, is -at the mercy of every knave; for either they will designedly please or -provoke you themselves, to catch your unguarded looks; or they will -seize the opportunity thus to read your very heart, when another shall -do it. You may possibly tell me, that this coolness must be natural, for -if not, you can never acquire it. I will admit the force of -constitution, but people are very apt to blame _that_, for many things -they might readily avoid. Care, with a little reflection, will soon give -you this mastery of your temper and countenance. If you find yourself -subject to sudden starts of passion, determine with yourself not to -utter a single word till your reason has recovered itself; and resolve -to keep your countenance as unmoved as possible. As a man, who at a card -table can preserve a serenity in his looks, under good or bad luck, has -considerably the advantage of one who appears elated with success, or -cast down with ill fortune, from our being able to read his cards in his -face, so the man of the world, having to deal with one of these babbling -countenances, will take care to profit by the circumstance, let the -consequence, to him with whom he deals, be as injurious as it may. - -IN the course of life, we shall find it necessary very often to put on a -pleasing countenance, when we are exceedingly displeased; we must -frequently seem friendly, when we are quite otherwise. I am sensible it -is difficult to accost a man with smiles whom we know to be our enemy; -but what is to be done? On receiving an affront, if you cannot be -justified in knocking the offender down, you must not notice the -offence; for, in the eye of the world, taking an affront calmly is -considered as cowardice. - -IF fools should attempt at any time to be witty upon you, the best way -is not to know their witticisms are leveled at you, and to conceal any -uneasiness it may give you; but, should they be so plain that you cannot -be thought ignorant of their meaning, I would recommend, rather than -quarrel with the company, joining even in the laugh against yourself; -allowing the jest to be a good one, and take it in seeming good humour. -Never attempt to retaliate the same way, as that would imply you were -hurt. Should what is said wound your honor, or your moral character, -there is but one proper reply, which I hope you will never be obliged to -have recourse to. - -REMEMBER there are but two alternatives for a gentleman; extreme -politeness, or the sword. If a man openly and designedly affronts you, -call him out; but, if it does not amount to an open insult, be outwardly -civil; if this does not make him ashamed of his behaviour, it will -prejudice every by-stander in your favour, and instead of being -disgraced, you will come off with honor. Politeness to those we do not -respect, is no more a breach of faith, than _your humble servant_ at the -bottom of a challenge; they are universally understood to be things of -course. - -WRANGLING and quarrelling characterize a weak mind; leave them to those -who love such conduct, be _you_ always above it. Enter into no sharp -contest, and pride yourself, in shewing, if possible, more civility to -your antagonist than to any other in the company; this will infallibly -bring over all the laughers to your side, and the person you are -contending with, will be very likely to confess you have behaved very -handsomely throughout the whole affair. - -EXPERIENCE will teach us, that though all men consist principally of the -same materials, as I before took notice of, yet from a difference in -their proportion, no two men are uniformly the same; we differ from one -another, and we often differ from ourselves, that is, we sometimes do -things utterly inconsistent with the general tenor of our characters. -The wisest man may occasionally do a weak thing; the most honest man, a -wrong thing; the proudest man, a mean thing; and the worst of men will -sometimes do a good thing. On this account, our study of mankind should -not be general; we should take a frequent view of individuals, and -though we may upon the whole, form a judgment of the man from his -prevailing passion or his general character, yet it will be prudent not -to determine, till we have waited to see the operations of his -subordinate appetites and humours. - -FOR example; a man’s general character may be that of strictly honest. I -would not dispute it, because, I would not be thought envious or -malevolent; but I would not rely upon this general character, so as to -entrust him with my fortune or my life. Should this honest man, as is -not uncommon, be my rival in power, interest, or love, he may possibly -do things that in other circumstances he would abhor; and power, -interest, and love, let me tell you, will often put honesty to the -severest trial, and frequently overpower it. I would then ransack this -honest man to the bottom, if I wished to trust him, and as I found him, -would place my confidence accordingly. - -ONE of the great compositions in our nature is vanity; to which all men, -more or less, give way. Women have an intolerable share of it. No -flattery, no adulation, is too gross for many of them; those who flatter -them most, please them best; and they are most in love with him who -pretends to be most in love with them; and the least slight or contempt -of them is seldom forgotten. It is, in some measure, the same with men; -they will sooner pardon an injury than an insult, and are more hurt by -contempt than by ill usage. Though all men do not boast of superior -talents, though they pretend not to the abilities of a Pope, a Newton, -or a Bolingbroke, every one pretends to have common sense, and to -discharge his office in life with common decency; to arraign, therefore, -in any shape, his abilities or integrity, in the department he holds, is -an insult he will not readily forgive. - -AS I would not have you trust too implicitly to a man, because the world -gives him a good character, so I must particularly caution you against -those who speak well of themselves. In general, suspect those who boast -of or affect to have any one virtue above all others, for they are -commonly impostors. There are exceptions however to this rule; for we -hear of prudes that have been chaste, bullies that have been brave, and -saints that have been religious. Confide only where your own observation -shall direct you; observe not only what is said, but how it is said, and -if you have any penetration, you may find out the truth better by your -eyes than your ears; in short, never take a character upon common -report, but enquire into it yourself; for common report, though it is -right in general, may be wrong in particulars. - -BEWARE of those who, on a slight acquaintance, make you a tender of -their friendship, and seem to place a confidence in you; it is ten to -one but they deceive and betray you; however, do not rudely reject them -upon such a supposition; you may be civil to them, though you do not -entrust them. Silly men are apt to solicit your friendship, and unbosom -themselves upon the first acquaintance; such friends cannot be worth -having, their friendship being as slender as their understanding; and if -they proffer their friendship with a design to make a property of you, -they are dangerous acquaintance indeed. Not but the little friendships -of the weak may be of some use to you, if you do not return the -compliment; and it may not be amiss to seem to accept of those designing -men, keeping them, as it were, in play, that they may not be openly your -enemies; for their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their -friendship. We may certainly hold their vices in abhorrence, without -being marked out as their personal enemy. The general rule is, to have a -real reserve with almost every one, and a seeming reserve with almost no -one; for it is very disgusting to seem reserved, and very dangerous not -to be so. Few observe the true medium. Many are ridiculously mysterious -upon trifles, and many indiscreetly communicative of all they know. - -THERE is a kind of short-lived friendship that takes place among young -men, from a connexion in their pleasures only; a friendship too often -attended with bad consequences. This companion of your pleasures, young -and unexperienced, will probably, in the heat of convivial mirth, vow a -perpetual friendship, and unfold himself to you without the least -reserve; but new associations, change of fortune, or change of place, -may soon break this ill-timed connexion, and an improper use may be made -of it. Be one, if you will, in young companies, and bear your part like -others, in all the social festivity of youth; nay, trust them with your -innocent frolicks, but keep your serious matters to yourself; and if you -must at any time make _them_ known, let it be to some tried friend of -great experience; and that nothing may tempt him to become your rival, -let that friend be in a different walk of life from yourself. - -WERE I to hear a man making strong protestations and swearing to the -truth of a thing, that is in itself probable and very likely to be, I -should doubt his veracity; for when he takes such pains to make me -believe it, it cannot be with a good design. - -THERE is a certain easiness or false modesty in most young people, that -either makes them unwilling, or ashamed to refuse any thing that is -asked of them. There is also an unguarded openness about them, that -makes them the ready prey of the artful and designing. They are easily -led away by the feigned friendships of a knave or a fool, and too rashly -place a confidence in them, that terminates in their loss, and -frequently in their ruin. Beware, therefore, as I said before, of these -proffered friendships; repay them with compliments, but not with -confidence. Never let your vanity make you suppose that people become -your friends upon a slight acquaintance; for good offices must be shewn -on both sides to create a friendship: It will not thrive, unless its -love be mutual; and it requires time to ripen it. - -THERE is still among young people another kind of friendship merely -nominal; warm indeed for the time, but fortunately of no long -continuance. This friendship takes its rise from their pursuing the same -course of riot and debauchery; their purses are open to each other, they -tell one another all they know, they embark in the same quarrels, and -stand by each other on all occasions. I should rather call this a -confederacy against good morals and good manners, and think it deserves -the severest lash of the law; but they have the impudence to call it -friendship. However, it is often as suddenly dissolved as it is hastily -contracted; some accident disperses them, and they presently forget each -other, except it is to betray, and to laugh at their own egregious -folly. - -IN short, the sum of the whole is, to make a wide difference between -companions and friends; for a very agreeable companion has often proved -a very dangerous friend. - - - CHOICE OF COMPANY. - -THE next thing to the choice of friends, is the choice of your company. - -ENDEAVOUR, as much as you can, to keep good company, and the company of -your superiors; for you will be held in estimation according to the -company you keep. By superiors, I do not mean so much with regard to -birth, as merit, and the light in which they are considered by the -world. - -THERE are two sorts of good company, the one consists of persons of -birth, rank, and fashion; the other, of those who are distinguished by -some particular merit, in any liberal art or science, as men of letters, -&c. and a mixture of these is what I would have understood by good -company: For it is not what particular sets of people shall call -themselves, but what the people in general acknowledge to be so, and are -the accredited good company of the place. - -NOW and then, persons without either birth, rank, or character, will -creep into good company, under the protection of some considerable -personage; but, in general, none are admitted of mean degree, or -infamous moral character. - -IN this fashionable good company alone, can you learn the best manners -and the best language; for, as there is no legal standard to form them -by, it is here they are established. - -IT may possibly be questioned, whether a man has it always in his power -to get into good company; undoubtedly, by deserving it, he has, provided -he is in circumstances which enable him to live and appear in the stile -of a gentleman. Knowledge, modesty, and good-breeding, will endear him -to all that see him; for without politeness, the scholar is no better -than a pedant, the philosopher than a cynic, the soldier than a brute, -nor any man than a clown. - -THOUGH the company of men of learning and genius is highly to be valued -and occasionally coveted, I would by no means have you always found in -such company. As they do not live in the world, they cannot have that -easy manner and address, which I would wish you to acquire. If you can -bear a part in such company, it is certainly advisable to be in it -sometimes, and you will be the more esteemed in other company by being -so; but let it not engross you, lest you should be considered as one of -the _literati_, which however respectable in name, is not the way to -rise or shine in the fashionable world. - -BUT the company which, of all others, you should carefully avoid, is -that, which, in every sense of the word may be called _low_; low in -birth, low in rank, low in parts, and low in manners; that company, who, -insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think it an honor to be -seen with _you_, and who will flatter your follies, nay your very vices, -to keep you with them. - -THOUGH _you_ may think such a caution unnecessary, I do not; for many a -young gentleman of sense and rank, has been led by his vanity to keep -such company, till he has been degraded, vilified and undone. - -THE vanity I mean, is that of being the first of the company. This -pride, though too common, is idle to the last degree. Nothing in the -world lets a man down so much. For the sake of dictating, being -applauded and admired by this low company, he is disgraced and -disqualified for better. Depend upon it, in the estimation of mankind, -you will sink or rise to the level of the company you keep. - -BE it, then, your ambition to get into the best company; and, when -there, imitate their virtues, but not their vices. You have, no doubt, -often heard of genteel and fashionable vices. These are whoring, -drinking and gaming. It has happened that some men, even with these -vices, have been admired and esteemed. Understand this matter rightly, -it is not their vices for which they are admired; but for some -accomplishments they at the same time possess; for their parts, their -learning, or their good-breeding. Be assured, were they free from their -vices, they would be much more esteemed. In these mixed characters, the -bad part is overlooked for the sake of the good. - -SHOULD you be unfortunate enough to have any vices of your own, add not -to their number, by adopting the vices of others. Vices of adoption are -of all others the most unpardonable; for they have not inadvertency to -plead. If people had no vices but their own, few would have so many as -they have. - -IMITATE, then, only the perfections you meet with; copy the politeness, -the address, the easy manners of well-bred people; and remember, let -them shine ever so bright, if they have any vices, they are so many -blemishes, which it would be as ridiculous to imitate, as it would, to -make an artificial wart upon one’s face, because some very handsome man -had the misfortune to have a natural one upon his. - - - LAUGHTER. - -LET us now descend to minute matters, which, though not so important as -those we mentioned, are still far from inconsiderable. Of these laughter -is one. - -FREQUENT and loud laughter is a sure sign of a weak mind, and no less -characteristic of a low education. It is the manner in which low-bred -men express their silly joy, at silly things, and they call it being -merry. - -I DO not recommend upon all occasions a solemn countenance. A man may -smile, but if he would be thought a gentleman and a man of sense, he -would by no means laugh. True wit never made a man of fashion laugh; he -is above it. It may create a smile, but as loud laughter shews, that a -man has not the command of himself, every one, who would wish to appear -sensible, must abhor it. - -A MAN’S going to sit down, on a supposition that he has a chair behind -him, and falling for want of one, occasions a general laugh, when the -best pieces of wit would not do it; a sufficient proof how low and -unbecoming laughter is. - -BESIDES, could the immoderate laugher hear his own noise, or see the -faces he makes, he would despise himself for his folly. Laughter being -generally supposed to be the effects of gaiety, its absurdity is not -properly attended to; but a little reflection will easily restrain it; -and when you are told, it is a mark of low-breeding, I persuade myself -you will endeavour to avoid it. - -SOME people have a silly trick of laughing, whenever they speak; so that -they are always on the grin, and their faces ever distorted. This and a -thousand other tricks, such as scratching their heads, twirling their -hats, fumbling with their button, playing with their fingers, &c. &c. -are acquired from a false modesty, at their first outset in life. Being -shame-faced in company, they try a variety of ways to keep themselves in -countenance; thus, they fall into those awkward habits I have mentioned, -which grow upon them, and in time become habitual. - -NOTHING is more repugnant likewise to good-breeding than horse play of -any sort, romping, throwing things at one another’s heads, and so on. -They may pass well enough with the mob, but they lessen and degrade the -gentleman. - - - SUNDRY LITTLE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. - -I HAVE had reason to observe before, that various little matters, -apparently trifling in themselves, conspire to form the _whole_ of -pleasing, as, in a well finished portrait, a variety of colours combine -to compleat the piece. It not being necessary to dwell much upon them, I -shall content myself, with just mentioning them as they occur. - -1. TO do the honors of a table gracefully, is one of the outlines of a -well-bred man; and to carve well, is an article, little as it may seem, -that is useful twice every day, and the doing of which ill, is not only -troublesome to one’s self, but renders us disagreeable and ridiculous to -others. We are always in pain for a man, who instead of cutting up a -fowl genteely, is hacking for half an hour across the bone, greasing -himself, and bespattering the company with the sauce. Use, with a little -attention, is all that is requisite to acquit yourself well in this -particular. - -2. TO be well received, you must, also, pay some attention to your -behaviour at table, where it is exceedingly rude to scratch any part of -your body, to spit, or blow your nose, if you can possibly avoid it, to -eat greedily, to lean your elbows on the table, to pick your teeth -before the dishes are removed, or to leave the table before grace is -said. - -3. DRINKING of healths is now growing out of fashion, and is very -unpolite in good company. Custom had once made it universal, but the -improved manners of the age now render it vulgar. What can be more rude -or ridiculous than to interrupt persons at their meals, with an -unnecessary compliment? Abstain then from this silly custom, where you -find it out of use; and use it only at those tables where it continues -general. - -4. “A POLITE” manner of refusing to comply with the solicitations of a -company, is also very necessary to be learnt; for, a young man, who -seems to have no will of his own, but does every thing that is asked of -him, may be a very good natured fellow, but he is a very silly one. If -you are invited to drink at any man’s house, more than you think is -wholesome, you may say, ‘you wish you could, but that so little makes -you both drunk and sick, that you should only be bad company by doing -it; of course beg to be excused.’ If desired to play at cards deeper -than you would, refuse it ludicrously; tell them, ‘if you were sure to -lose, you might possibly sit down; but that, as fortune may be -favourable, you dread the thought of having too much money, ever since -you found what an incumbrance it was to poor Harlequin, and therefore -you are resolved never to put yourself in the way of winning more than -such or such a sum a day.’ This light way of declining invitations, to -vice and folly, is more becoming a young man than philosophical or -sententious refusals, which would only be laughed at. - -5. NOW I am on the subject of cards, I must not omit mentioning the -necessity of playing them well and genteely, if you would be thought to -have kept good company. I would by no means recommend playing of cards -as a part of your study, lest you should grow too fond of it, and the -consequences prove bad. It were better not to know a diamond from a -club, than to become a gambler; but as custom has introduced innocent -card-playing at most friendly meetings, it marks the gentleman to handle -them genteely, and play them well; and as I hope you will play only for -small sums, should you lose your money, pray lose it with temper; or -win, receive your winnings without either elation or greediness. - -6. TO write well and correct, and in a pleasing stile, is another part -of polite education. Every man who has the use of his eyes and his right -hand, can write whatever hand he pleases. Nothing is so illiberal as a -school-boy’s scrawl. I would not have you learn a stiff formal -hand-writing, like that of a schoolmaster, but a genteel, legible and -liberal hand, and to be able to write quick. As to the correctness and -elegancy of your writing, attention to grammar does the one, and to the -best authors, the other. Epistolary correspondence should not be carried -on in a studied or affected style, but the language should flow from the -pen, as naturally and as easily as it would from the mouth. In short, a -letter should be penned in the same style, as you would talk to your -friend, if he were present. - -7. IF writing well shews the gentleman, much more so does spelling well. -It is essentially necessary for a gentleman, or a man of letters; one -false spelling may fix a ridicule on him for the remainder of his life. -Words in books are generally well spelled, according to the orthography -of the age; reading therefore, with attention, will teach every one to -spell right. It sometimes happens that words are spelled differently by -different authors; but if you spell them upon the authority of one, in -estimation of the public, you will escape ridicule. Where there is but -one way of spelling a word, by your spelling it wrong, you will be sure -to be laughed at. For a _woman_ of a tolerable education would laugh at -and despise her lover, if he wrote to her, and the words were ill -spelled. Be particularly attentive then to your spelling. - -8. THERE is nothing that a young man, at his first appearance in life, -ought more to dread, than having any ridicule fixed on him. In the -estimation even of the most rational men, it will lessen him, but ruin -him with all the rest. Many have been undone by a ridiculous nick-name. -The causes of nick-names among well-bred men, are generally the little -defects in manner, air, or address. To have the appellation of ill-bred, -awkward, muttering, left-legged, or any other, tacked always to your -name, would injure you more than you are aware of. Avoid then these -little defects (and they are easily avoided) and you need never fear a -nick-name. - -9. SOME young men are apt to think, that they cannot be complete -gentlemen, without becoming men of pleasure; and the rake they often -mistake for the man of pleasure. A rake is made up of the meanest and -most disgraceful vices. They all combine to degrade his character, and -ruin his health and fortune. A man of pleasure will refine upon the -enjoyments of the age, attend them with decency, and partake of them -becomingly. Indeed, he is too often less scrupulous than he should be, -and frequently has cause to repent it. A man of pleasure, at best, is -but a dissipated being, and what the rational part of mankind must -abhor; I mention it, however, lest in taking up the man of pleasure, you -should fall into the rake; for of two evils, always chuse the least. A -dissolute, flagitious footman may make as good a rake as a man of the -first quality. Few men can be men of pleasure; every man may be a rake. -There is a certain dignity that should be preserved in all our -pleasures: In love, a man may lose his heart, without losing his nose; -at table, a man may have a distinguishing palate, without being a -glutton; he may love wine, without being a drunkard; he may game, -without being a gambler; and so on. Every virtue has its kindred vice, -and every pleasure its neighbouring disgrace. Temperance and moderation -mark the gentleman; but excess the blackguard. Attend carefully, then, -to the line that divides them; and remember, stop rather a yard short, -than step an inch beyond it. Weigh the present enjoyment of your -pleasures against the necessary consequences of them, and I will leave -you to your own determination. - -10. A GENTLEMAN has ever some regard also to the _choice_ of his -amusements; if at cards, he will not be seen at cribbage, all-fours, or -put; or, in sports of exercise, at skittles, foot-ball, leap-frog, -cricket, driving of coaches, &c. but will preserve a propriety in every -part of his conduct; knowing that any imitation of the manners of the -mob, will unavoidably stamp him with vulgarity. There is another -amusement too, which I cannot help calling illiberal, that is, playing -upon any musical instrument. Music is commonly reckoned one of the -liberal arts, and undoubtedly is so; but to be piping or fiddling at a -concert is degrading to a man of fashion. If you love music, hear it; -pay fiddlers to play to you, but never fiddle yourself. It makes a -gentleman appear frivolous and contemptible, leads him frequently into -bad company, and wastes that time which might otherwise be well -employed. - -11. SECRECY is another characteristic of good-breeding. Be careful never -to tell in one company what you see or hear in another; much less to -divert the present company at the expense of the last. Things apparently -indifferent may, when often repeated and told abroad, have much more -serious consequences than imagined. In conversation, there is generally -a tacit reliance, that what is said will not be repeated; and a man, -though not enjoined to secrecy, will be excluded company, if found to be -a tatler; besides, he will draw himself into a thousand scrapes, and -every one will be afraid to speak before him. - -12. PULLING out your watch in company unasked, either at home or abroad, -is a mark of ill-breeding; if at home, it appears as if you were tired -of your company, and wished them to be gone; if abroad, as if the hours -dragged heavily, and wished to be gone yourself. If you want to know the -time, withdraw; besides, as the taking what is called French leave was -introduced, that on one person’s leaving the company the rest might not -be disturbed, looking at your watch does what that piece of politeness -was designed to prevent; it is a kind of dictating to all present, and -telling them it is time, or almost time to break up. - -13. AMONG other things, let me caution you against ever being in a -hurry; a man of sense may be in haste, but he is never in a hurry; -convinced that hurry is the surest way to make him do what he undertakes -ill. To be in a hurry is a proof that the business we embark in is too -great for us; of course it is the mark of little minds, that are puzzled -and perplexed, when they should be cool and deliberate; they want to do -every thing at once, and therefore do nothing. Be steady, then, in all -your engagements; look round you, before you begin; and remember that -you had better do half of them well, and leave the rest undone, than to -do the whole indifferently. - -14. FROM a kind of false modesty, most young men are apt to consider -familiarity as unbecoming. Forwardness I allow is so; but there is a -decent familiarity that is necessary in the course of life. Mere formal -visits, upon formal invitations, are not the thing; they create no -connexion, nor will they prove of service to you; it is the careless and -easy ingress and egress, at all hours, that secures an acquaintance to -our interest; and this is acquired by a respectful familiarity entered -into, without forfeiting your consequence. - -15. IN acquiring new acquaintance, be careful not to neglect your old, -for a slight of this kind is seldom forgiven. If you cannot be with your -former acquaintance, so often as you used to be, while you had no -others, take care not to give them cause to think you neglect them; call -upon them frequently, though you cannot stay long with them; tell them -you are sorry to leave them so soon, and nothing should take you away -but certain engagements which good manners oblige you to attend to; for -it will be your interest to make all the friends you can, and as few -enemies as possible. By friends, I would not be understood to mean -confidential ones; but persons who speak of you respectfully, and who, -consistent with their own interest, would wish to be of service to you, -and would rather do you good than harm. - -16. ANOTHER thing I must recommend to you, as characteristic of a polite -education, and of having kept good company, is a graceful manner of -conferring favours. The most obliging things may be done so awkwardly as -to offend, while the most disagreeable things may be done so agreeably -as to please. - -17. A FEW more articles and then I have done; the first is on the -subject of vanity. It is the common failing of youth, and as such ought -to be carefully guarded against. The vanity I mean, is that which, if -given way to, stamps a man a coxcomb, a character he will find a -difficulty to get rid of, perhaps as long as he lives. Now this vanity -shews itself in a variety of shapes; one man shall pride himself in -taking the lead in all conversations, and peremptorily deciding upon -every subject; another, desirous of appearing successful among the -women, shall insinuate the encouragement he has met with, the conquests -he makes, and perhaps boasts of favours he never received; if he speaks -truth, he is ungenerous; if false, he is a villain; but whether true or -false, he defeats his own purposes, overthrows the reputation he wishes -to erect, and draws upon himself contempt in the room of respect. Some -men are vain enough to think they acquire consequence by alliance, or by -an acquaintance with persons of distinguished character or abilities; -hence they are eternally talking of their grand-father, Lord such-a-one; -their kinsman, Sir William such-a-one; or their intimate friend, Dr. -such-a-one, with whom perhaps, they are scarcely acquainted. If they are -ever found out (and that they are sure to be one time or another) they -become ridiculous and contemptible; but even admitting what they say to -be true, what then? A man’s intrinsic merit does not rise from an -ennobled alliance, or a reputable acquaintance. A rich man never -borrows. When angling for praise, modesty is the surest bait. If we -would wish to shine in any particular character, we must never affect -that character. An affectation of courage will make a man pass for a -bully; an affectation of wit, for a coxcomb; and an affectation of -sense, for a fool. Not that I would recommend bashfulness or timidity: -No; I would have every one know his own value, yet not discover that he -knows it, but leave his merit to be found out by others. - -18. ANOTHER thing worth your attention is, if in company with an -inferior, not to let him feel his inferiority; if he discovers it -himself, without your endeavours, the fault is not yours, and he will -not blame you; but if you take pains to mortify him, or to make him feel -himself inferior to you in abilities, fortune, or rank, it is an insult -that will not readily be forgiven. In point of abilities, it would be -unjust, as they are out of his power; in point of rank or fortune, it is -ill-natured and ill-bred. This rule is never more necessary than at -table, where there cannot be a greater insult than to help an inferior -to a part he dislikes, or a part that may be worse than ordinary, and to -take the best to yourself. If you at any time invite an inferior to your -table, you put him, during the time he is there, upon an equality with -you; and it is an act of the highest rudeness to treat him in any -respect, slightingly. I would rather double my attention to such a -person, and treat him with additional respect, lest he should even -suppose himself neglected. There cannot be a greater savageness, or -cruelty, or any thing more degrading to a man of fashion than to put -upon or take unbecoming liberties with him, whose modesty, humility, or -respect, will not suffer him to retaliate. True politeness consists in -making every body happy about you; and as to mortify is to render -unhappy, it can be nothing but the worst of breeding. Make it a rule, -rather to flatter a person’s vanity than otherwise; make him, if -possible, more in love with himself, and you will be certain to gain his -esteem; never tell him any thing he may not like to hear, nor say things -that will put him out of countenance, but let it be your study on all -occasions to please; this will be making friends instead of enemies, and -be a mean of serving yourself in the end. - -19. NEVER be witty, at the expense of any one present, nor gratify that -idle inclination which is too strong in most young men, I mean laughing -at, or ridiculing the weaknesses or infirmities of others, by way of -diverting the company, or displaying your own superiority. Most people -have their weaknesses, their peculiar likings and aversions. Some cannot -bear the sight of a cat; others the smell of cheese, and so on; were you -to laugh at these men for their antipathies, or by design or inattention -to bring them in their way, you could not insult them more. You may -possibly thus gain the laugh on your side, for the present, but it will -make the person, perhaps, at whose expense you are merry, your enemy -forever after; and even those who laugh with you, will on a little -reflection, fear you and probably despise you; whereas, to procure what -_one_ likes, and to remove what the _other_ hates, would shew them that -they were the objects of your attention, and possibly make them more -your friends than much greater services would have done. If you have -wit, use it to please but not to hurt. You may shine, but take care not -to scorch. In short, never seem to see the faults of others. Though -among the mass of men there are, doubtless, numbers of fools and knaves, -yet were we to tell every one we meet with, that we know them to be so, -we should be in perpetual war. I would detest the knave and pity the -fool, wherever I found him, but I would let neither of them know -unnecessarily that I did so; as I would not be industrious to make -myself enemies. As one must please others then, in order to be pleased -one’s self, consider what is agreeable to you, must be agreeable to -them, and conduct yourself accordingly. - -20. WHISPERING in company is another act of ill-breeding: It seems to -insinuate either that the persons who we would not wish should hear, are -unworthy of our confidence, or it may lead them to suppose we are -speaking improperly of them; on both accounts, therefore, abstain from -it. - -21. SO pulling out one letter after another and reading them in company, -or cutting and paring one’s nails, is unpolite and rude. It seems to -say, we are weary of the conversation, and are in want of some amusement -to pass away the time. - -22. HUMMING a tune to ourselves, drumming with our fingers on the table, -making a noise with our feet, and such like, are all breaches of good -manners, and indications of our contempt for the persons present; -therefore they should not be indulged. - -23. WALKING fast in the streets is a mark of vulgarity, implying hurry -of business; it may appear well in a mechanic or tradesman, but suits -ill with the character of a gentleman, or a man of fashion. - -24. STARING at any person you meet full in the face, is an act also of -ill-breeding; it looks as if you saw something wonderful in his -appearance, and is therefore a tacit reprehension. - -25. EATING quick, or very slow at meals, is characteristic of the -vulgar; the first infers poverty, that you have not had a good meal for -some time; the last, if abroad, that you dislike your entertainment; if -at home, that you are rude enough to set before your friends what you -cannot eat yourself. So again, eating your soup with your nose in the -plate is vulgar; it has the appearance of being used to hard work, and -of course an unsteady hand. If it be necessary then to avoid this, it is -much more so that of smelling your meat. - -26. SMELLING to the meat while on the fork, before you put it in your -mouth. I have seen many an ill-bred fellow do this, and have been so -angry, that I could have kicked him from the table. If you dislike what -you have upon your plate, leave it; but on no account, by smelling to, -or examining it, charge your friend with putting unwholesome provisions -before you. - -27. SPITTING on the carpet is a nasty practice, and shocking, in a man -of liberal education. Were this to become general, it would be as -necessary to change the carpets as the table-cloths; besides, it will -lead our acquaintance to suppose, that we have not been used to genteel -furniture; for this reason alone, if for no other, by all means avoid -it. - -28. KEEP yourself free likewise from odd tricks or habits, such as -thrusting out your tongue continually, snapping your fingers, rubbing -your hands, sighing aloud, an affected shivering of your whole body, -gaping with a noise like a country-fellow that has been sleeping in a -hay-loft, or indeed with any noise, and many others, which I have -noticed before; these are imitations of the manners of the mob, and are -degrading to a gentleman. - -A VERY little attention will get the better of all these ill-bred -habits, and be assured, you will find your account in it. - - - EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. - -EMPLOYMENT of time, is a subject, that from its importance, deserves -your best attention. Most young gentlemen have a great deal of time -before them, and one hour well employed, in the early part of life, is -more valuable and will be of greater use to you, than perhaps four and -twenty, some years to come. - -WHATEVER time you can steal from company, and from the study of the -world; (I say company, for a knowledge of life is best learned in -various companies) employ it in serious reading. Take up some valuable -book, and continue the reading of that book, till you have got through -it; never burden your mind with more than one thing at a time: And in -reading this book don’t run over it superficially, but read every -passage twice over, at least do not pass on to a second till you -thoroughly understand the first, nor quit the book till you are master -of the subject; for unless you do this, you may read it through, and not -remember the contents of it for a week. The books I would particularly -recommend, among others, are, _Cardinal Retz’s Maxims_, _Rochfaucault’s -Moral Reflections_, _Bruyere’s Characters_, _Fontenell’s Plurality of -Worlds_, _Sir Josiah Child on Trade_, _Bolingbroke’s Works_; for style, -his _Remarks on the History of England_, under the name of Sir John -Oldcastle; _Puffendorf’s Jus Gentium_, _and Grotius’ de Jure Belli et -Pacis_: The last two are well translated by Barboyrac. For occasional -half-hours or less, read the best works of invention, wit and humour; -but never waste your minutes on trifling authors, either ancient or -modern. - -ANY business you may have to transact, should be done the first -opportunity, and finished, if possible without interruption; for by -deferring it, we may probably finish it too late, or execute it -indifferently. Now, business of any kind should never be done by halves, -but every part of it should be well attended to: For he that does -business ill, had better not do it at all. And, in any point, which -discretion bids you pursue, and which has a manifest utility to -recommend it, let no difficulties deter you; rather let them animate -your industry. If one method fails, try a second and a third. Be active, -persevere and you will certainly conquer. - -NEVER indulge a lazy disposition; there are few things but are attended -with some difficulties, and if you are frightened at those difficulties, -you will not compleat any thing. Indolent minds prefer ignorance to -trouble; they look upon most things as impossible, because perhaps they -are difficult. Even an hour’s attention is too laborious for them, and -they would rather content themselves with the first view of things, than -take the trouble to look any farther into them. Thus, when they come to -talk upon subjects to those who have studied them, they betray an -unpardonable ignorance, and lay themselves open to answers that confuse -them. Be careful then, that you do not get the appellation of indolent; -and, if possible, avoid the character of frivolous. For, - -THE frivolous mind is always busied upon nothing. It mistakes trifling -objects for important ones, and spends that time upon little matters, -that should only be bestowed upon great ones. Knick-knacks, butterflies, -shells, and such like, engross the attention of the frivolous man, and -fill up all his time. He studies the dress and not the characters of -men, and his subjects of conversation are no other than the weather, his -own domestic affairs, his servants, his method of managing his family, -the little anecdotes of the neighbourhood, and the fiddle-faddle stories -of the day; void of information, void of improvement. These he relates -with emphasis, as interesting matters; in short, he is a male gossip, I -appeal to your own feelings now, whether such things do not lessen a -man, in the opinion of his acquaintance, and instead of attracting -esteem, create disgust. - - - DIGNITY OF MANNERS. - -THERE is a certain dignity of manners, without which the very best -characters will not be valued. - -ROMPING, loud and frequent laughing, punning, joking, mimickry, waggery, -and too great and indiscriminate familiarity, will render any one -contemptible, in spite of all his knowledge or his merit. These may -constitute a merry fellow, but a merry fellow was never yet respectable. -Indiscriminate familiarity, will either offend your superiors, or make -you pass for their dependant, or toad-eater, and it will put your -inferiors on a degree of equality with you, that may be troublesome. - -A JOKE, if it carries a sting along with it, is no longer a joke but an -affront; and even if it has no sting, unless its witticism is delicate -and facetious, instead of giving pleasure, it will disgust; or, if the -company _should_ laugh, they will probably laugh at the jester rather -than the jest. - -PUNNING is a mere playing upon words, and far from being a mark of -sense: Thus, were we to say, such a dress is _commodious_, one of these -wags would answer _odious_; or, that, whatever it has been, it is now be -_commodious_. Others will give us an answer different from what we -should expect, without either wit, or the least beauty of thought; as, -‘_Where’s my Lord?_’—‘_In his clothes, unless he is in bed._’—‘_How does -this wine taste?_’—‘_A little moist, I think._’—‘_How is this to be -eaten?_’—‘_With your mouth_;’ and so on, all which (you will readily -apprehend) are low and vulgar. If your witticisms are not instantly -approved by the laugh of the company, for heaven’s sake, don’t attempt -to be witty for the future; for you may take it for granted, the defect -is in yourself, and not in your hearers. - -AS to a mimick or a wag, he is little else than a buffoon, who will -distort his mouth and his eyes to make people laugh. Be assured, no one -person ever demeaned himself to please the rest, unless he wished to be -thought the Merry-Andrew of the company, and whether this character is -respectable, I will leave you to judge. - -IF a man’s company is coveted on any other account than his knowledge, -his good sense, or his manners, he is seldom respected by those who -invite him, but made use of only to entertain. ‘Let’s have such-a-one, -for he sings a good song, or he is always joking or laughing;’ or ‘Let’s -send for such-a-one, for he is a good bottle companion;’ these are -degrading distinctions, that preclude all respect and esteem. Whoever is -had (as the phrase is) for the sake of any qualification singly, is -merely that thing he is had for, is never considered in any other light, -and, of course, never properly respected, let his intrinsic merits be -what they will. - -YOU may possibly suppose this dignity of manners to border upon pride; -but it differs as much from pride, as true courage from blustering. - -TO flatter a person right or wrong, is abject flattery, and to consent -readily to do every thing proposed by a company, be it silly or -criminal, is full as degrading, as to dispute warmly upon every subject, -and to contradict upon all occasions. To preserve dignity, we should -modestly assert our own sentiments, though we politely acquiesce in -those of others. - -SO again, to support dignity of character, we should neither be -frivolously curious about trifles, nor be laboriously intent upon little -objects that deserve not a moment’s attention; for this implies an -incapacity in matters of greater importance. - -A GREAT deal likewise depends upon our air, address and expressions; an -awkward address and vulgar expressions infer either a low turn of mind, -or low education. - -INSOLENT contempt, or low envy, is incompatible also with dignity of -manners. Low-bred persons, fortunately lifted in the world in fine -clothes and fine equipages, will insolently look down on all those who -cannot afford to make as good an appearance, and they openly envy those -who perhaps make a better. They also dread the being slighted; of -course, are suspicious and captious; are uneasy themselves, and make -every body else so about them. - -A CERTAIN degree of outward seriousness in looks and actions gives -dignity, while a constant smirk upon the face (that insipid silly smile, -which fools have when they would be civil) and whiffling motions, are -strong marks of futility. - -BUT above all a dignity of character is to be acquired best by a certain -firmness in all our actions. A mean, timid and passive complaisance, -lets a man down more than he is aware of; but still his firmness and -resolution should not extend to brutality, but be accompanied with a -peculiar and engaging softness, or mildness. - -IF you discover any hastiness in your temper, and find it apt to break -out into rough and unguarded expressions, watch it narrowly, and -endeavour to curb it; but let no complaisance, no weak desire of -pleasing, no wheedling, urge you to do that which discretion forbids; -but persist and persevere in all that is right. In your connexions and -friendships, you will find this rule of use to you. Invite and preserve -attachments by your firmness; but labour to keep clear of enemies by a -mildness of behaviour. Disarm those enemies you may unfortunately have -(and few are without them) by a gentleness of manner, but make them feel -the steadiness of your just resentment! For there is a wide difference -between bearing malice and a determined self-defence; the one is -imperious, but the other is prudent and justifiable. - -IN directing your servants, or any person you have a right to command; -if you deliver your orders mildly, and in that engaging manner which -every gentleman should study to do, you would be cheerfully, and -consequently, well obeyed; but if tyrannically, you would be very -unwillingly served, if served at all. A cool, steady determination -should shew that you will be obeyed, but a gentleness in the manner of -enforcing that obedience should make your service a cheerful one. Thus -will you be loved without being despised, and feared without being -hated. - -I HOPE I need not mention vices. A man who has patiently been kicked out -of company, may have as good a pretence to courage, as one rendered -infamous by his vices, may to dignity of any kind; however, of such -consequence are appearances, that an outward decency and an affected -dignity of manners will even keep such a man the longer from sinking. If -therefore you should unfortunately have no intrinsic merit of your own, -keep up, if possible, the appearance of it; and the world will possibly -give you credit for the rest. A versatility of manners is as necessary -in social life, as a versatility of parts in political. This is no way -blamable, if not used with an ill design. We must, like the cameleon, -often put on the hue of persons we wish to be well with; and it surely -can never be blamable, to endeavour to gain the good will or affection -of any one, if when obtained, we do not mean to abuse it. - - - RULES FOR CONVERSATION. - -HAVING now given you full and sufficient instructions for making you -well received in the best companies; nothing remains but that I lay -before you some few rules for your conduct in such company. Many things -on this subject I have mentioned before, but some few matters remain to -be mentioned now. - -1. TALK, then, frequently but not long together, lest you tire the -persons you are speaking to; for few persons talk so well upon a -subject, as to keep up the attention of their hearers for any length of -time. - -2. AVOID telling stories in company, unless they are very short indeed, -and very applicable to the subject you are upon; in this case relate -them in as few words as possible, without the least digression, and with -some apology; as that you hate the telling of stories, but the shortness -of it induced you. And, if your story has any wit in it, be particularly -careful not to laugh at it yourself. Nothing is more tiresome and -disagreeable than a long tedious narrative; it betrays a gossiping -disposition, and great want of imagination; and nothing is more -ridiculous than to express an approbation of your own story, by a laugh. - -3. IN relating any thing, keep clear of repetitions, or very hackneyed -expressions, such as, _says he_, or _says she_. Some people will use -these so often, as to take off the hearer’s attention from the story; -as, in an organ out of tune, one pipe shall perhaps sound the whole time -we are playing, and confuse the piece, so as not to be understood. - -4. DIGRESSIONS, likewise, should be guarded against. A story is always -more agreeable without them. Of this kind are, ‘_the gentleman I am -telling you of, is the son of Sir Thomas,—who lives in Harley street; -you must know him—his brother had a horse that won the sweep stakes at -the last Newmarket meeting—Zounds! if you don’t know him you know -nothing._’ Or, ‘_He was an upright tall old gentleman, who wore his own -long hair: don’t you recollect him?_’ All this is unnecessary; is very -tiresome and provoking, and would be an excuse for a man’s behaviour, if -he was to leave us in the midst of our narrative. - -5. SOME people have a trick of holding the persons they are speaking to -by the button, or the hand, in order to be heard out; conscious, I -suppose, that their tale is tiresome. Pray, never do this; if the person -you speak to is not as willing to hear your story, as you are to tell -it, you had much better break off in the middle; for if you tire them -once, they will be afraid to listen to you a second time. - -6. OTHERS have a way of punching the person they are talking to, in the -side, and at the end of every sentence, asking him some such questions -as the following: ‘Wasn’t I right in that?’—‘You know, I told you -so?’—‘What’s your opinion?’ and the like; or perhaps they will be -thrusting him, or jogging him with their elbow. For mercy’s sake, never -give way to this; it will make your company dreaded. - -7. LONG talkers are frequently apt to single out some unfortunate man -present, generally the most silent one of the company, or probably him -who sits next to him. To this man, in a kind of half-whisper they will -run on for half an hour together. Nothing can be more ill-bred. But if -one of these unmerciful talkers should attack you, if you wish to oblige -him, I would recommend the hearing him with patience: Seem to do so at -least, for you could not hurt him more than to leave him in the middle -of his story, or discover any impatience in the course of it. - -8. INCESSANT talkers are very disagreeable companions. Nothing can be -more rude than to engross the conversation to yourself, or to take the -words as it were, out of another man’s mouth. Every man in company has -an equal claim to bear his part in the conversation, and to deprive him -of it, is not only unjust, but a tacit declaration that he cannot speak -so well upon the subject as yourself; you will therefore take it up: -And, what can be more rude? I would as soon forgive a man that should -stop my mouth when I was gaping, as take my words from me while I was -speaking them. Now, if this be unpardonable, it cannot be less so - -9. TO help out or forestal the slow speaker, as if you alone were rich -in expressions, and he were poor. You may take it for granted, every one -is vain enough to think he can talk well, though he may modestly deny -it; helping a person therefore out in his expressions, is a correction -that will stamp the corrector with impudence and ill manners. - -10. THOSE who contradict others upon all occasions, and make every -assertion a matter of dispute, betray by this behaviour an -unacquaintance with good-breeding. He therefore who wishes to appear -amiable, with those he converses with, will be cautious of such -expressions as these, ‘That can’t be true, Sir.’ ‘The affair is as I -say.’ ‘That must be false, Sir.’ ‘If what you say is true, &c.’ You may -as well tell a man he lies at once, as thus indirectly impeach his -veracity. It is equally as rude to be proving every trifling assertion -with a bet or a wager. ‘I’ll bet you fifty of it, and so on.’ Make it -then a constant rule, in matters of no great importance, complaisantly -to submit your opinion to that of others; for a victory of this kind -often costs a man the loss of a friend. - -11. GIVING advice unasked, is another piece of rudeness; it is, in -effect, declaring ourselves wiser than those to whom we give it; -reproaching them with ignorance and inexperience. It is a freedom that -ought not to be taken with any common acquaintance, and yet there are -those, who will be offended, if their advice is not taken. ‘Such-a-one,’ -say they, ‘is above being advised.’ ‘He scorns to listen to my advice;’ -as if it were not a mark of greater arrogance to expect every one to -submit to their opinion, than for a man sometimes to follow his own. - -12. THERE is nothing so unpardonably rude as a seeming inattention to -the person who is speaking to you; though you may meet with it in -others, by all means, avoid it yourself. Some ill-bred people, while -others are speaking to them, will, instead of looking at, or attending -to them, perhaps fix their eyes on the ceiling, or some picture in the -room, look out of a window, play with a dog, their watch chain, or their -cane, or probably pick their nails or their noses. Nothing betrays a -more trifling mind than this; nor can any thing be a greater affront to -the person speaking; it being a tacit declaration, that what he is -saying is not worth your attention. Consider with yourself how you would -like such treatment, and, I am persuaded you will never shew it to -others. - -13. SURLINESS or moroseness is incompatible also with politeness. Such -as, should any one say ‘he was desired to present Mr. Such-a-one’s -respects to you,’ to reply, ‘What the devil have I to do with his -respects?’ ‘My Lord enquired after you lately, and asked how you did,’ -to answer, ‘If he wishes to know, let him come and feel my pulse;’ and -the like. A good deal of this often is affected; but whether affected or -natural, it is always offensive. A man of this stamp will occasionally -be laughed at, as an oddity; but in the end will be despised. - -14. I SHOULD suppose it unnecessary to advise you to adapt your -conversation to the company you are in. You would not surely start the -same subject, and discourse of it in the same manner with the old and -with the young, with an officer, a clergyman, a philosopher, and a -woman. No; your good sense will undoubtedly teach you to be serious with -the serious, gay with the gay, and to trifle with the triflers. - -15. THERE are certain expressions which are exceedingly rude, and yet -there are people of liberal education that sometimes use them; as ‘You -don’t understand me, Sir,’ ‘It is not so.’ ‘You mistake.’ ‘You know -nothing of the matter, &c.’ Is it not better to say? ‘I believe, I do -not express myself so as to be understood.’ ‘Let us consider it again, -whether we take it right or not.’ It is much more polite and amiable to -make some excuse for another, even in cases where he might justly be -blamed, and to represent the mistake as common to both, rather than -charge him with insensibility or incomprehension. - -16. IF anyone should have promised you any thing, and not have fulfilled -that promise, it would be very unpolite to tell him, he has forfeited -his word; or if the same person should have disappointed you, upon any -occasion, would it not be better to say, ‘You were probably so much -engaged, that you forgot my affair;’ or, ‘Perhaps it slipped your -memory;’ rather than, ‘You thought no more about it,’ or ‘you pay very -little regard to your word.’ For, expressions of this kind leave a sting -behind them. They are a kind of provocation and affront, and very often -bring on lasting quarrels. - -17. BE careful not to appear dark and mysterious, lest you should be -thought suspicious; than which there cannot be a more unamiable -character. If you appear mysterious and reserved, others will be truly -so with you; and in this case there is an end to improvement, for you -will gather no information. Be reserved, but never seem so. - -18. THERE is a fault extremely common with some people, which I would -have _you_ to avoid. When their opinion is asked, upon any subject, they -will give it with so apparent a diffidence and timidity, that one -cannot, without the utmost pain, listen to them; especially if they are -known to be men of universal knowledge. ‘Your Lordship will pardon me,’ -says one of this stamp, ‘if I should not be able to speak to the case in -hand, so well as it might be wished.’—‘I’ll venture to speak of this -matter to the best of my poor abilities and dulness of apprehension.’—‘I -fear I shall expose myself, but in obedience to your Lordship’s -commands’—and while they are making these apologies, they interrupt the -business and tire the company. - -19. ALWAYS look people in the face, when you speak to them, otherwise -you will be thought conscious of some guilt, besides, you lose the -opportunity of reading their countenances, from which you will much -better learn the impression your discourse makes upon them than you can -possibly do from their words; for words are at the will of every one, -but the countenance is frequently involuntary. - -20. IF in speaking to a person, you are not heard, and should be desired -to repeat what you said, do not raise your voice in the repetition, lest -you should be thought angry, on being obliged to repeat what you said -before; it was probably owing to the hearer’s inattention. - -21. ONE word only, as to swearing. Those who addict themselves to it, -and interlard their discourse with oaths, can never be considered as -gentlemen; they are generally people of low education, and are unwelcome -in what is called good company. It is a vice that has no temptation to -plead, but is, in every respect, as vulgar as it is wicked. - -22. NEVER accustom yourself to scandal, nor listen to it; for though it -may gratify the malevolence of some people, nine times out of ten, it is -attended with great disadvantages. The very persons you tell it to, -will, on reflection, entertain a mean opinion of you, and it will often -bring you into very disagreeable situations. And as there would be no -evil speakers, if there were no evil hearers, it is in scandal as in -robbery; the receiver is as bad as the thief. Besides, it will lead -people to shun your company, supposing that you will speak ill of them -to the next acquaintance you meet. - -23. MIMICKRY, the favourite amusement of little minds, has been ever the -contempt of great ones. Never give way to it yourself, nor ever -encourage it in others; it is the most illiberal of all buffoonery; it -is an insult on the person you mimick; and insults, I have often told -you, are seldom forgiven. - -24. CAREFULLY avoid talking either of your own or other people’s -domestic concerns. By doing the one, you will be thought vain; by -entering into the other, you will be considered as officious. Talking of -yourself is an impertinence to the company; your affairs are nothing to -them; besides they cannot be kept too secret. And as to the affairs of -others, what are they to you? In talking of matters that no way concern -you, you are liable to commit blunders, and should you touch any one in -a sore part, you may possibly lose his esteem. Let your conversation, -then, in mixed companies, always be general. - -25. JOKES, bon-mots, or the little pleasantries of one company, will not -often bear to be told in another; they are frequently local, and take -their rise from certain circumstances, a second company may not be -acquainted with; these circumstances, and of course your story, may be -misunderstood, or want explaining; and if after you have prefaced it -with,—‘I will tell you a good thing;’—the sting should not be -immediately perceived, you will appear exceedingly ridiculous, and wish -you had not told it. Never then without caution repeat in one place, -what you hear in another. - -26. IN most debates, take up the favourable side of the question; -however, let me caution you against being clamorous, that is, never -maintain an argument with heat, though you know yourself right; but -offer your sentiments modestly and coolly, and if this does not prevail, -give it up, and try to change the subject by saying something to this -effect—‘I find we shall hardly convince one another, neither is there -any necessity to attempt it; so let us talk of something else.’ - -27. NOT that I would have you give up your opinion always; no, assert -your own sentiments, and oppose those of others, when wrong; but let -your manner and voice be gentle and engaging, and yet no ways affected. -If you contradict, do it with, ‘I may be wrong, I won’t be positive, but -I really think—I should rather suppose—If I may be permitted to say,’ -and close your dispute with good humour, to shew that you are neither -displeased yourself nor meant to displease the person you dispute with. - -28. ACQUAINT yourself with the character and situations of the company -you go into, before you give a loose to your tongue; for, should you -enlarge on some virtue, which any one present may notoriously want; or -should you condemn some vice, which any of the company may be -particularly addicted to, they will be apt to think your reflections -pointed and personal, and you will be sure to give offence. This -consideration will naturally lead you, not to suppose things said in -general, to be leveled at you. - -29. LOW-BRED people, when they happen occasionally to be in good -company, imagine themselves to be the subject of every separate -conversation. If any part of the company whisper, it is about them; if -they laugh, it is at them; and if any thing is said which they do not -comprehend, they immediately suppose it is meant of them. This mistake -is admirably ridiculed in one of our celebrated comedies, ‘I am sure,’ -says Scrub, ‘they were talking of me, for they laughed consumedly.’ Now, -a well-bred person never thinks himself disesteemed by the company, or -laughed at, unless their reflections are so gross, that he cannot be -supposed to mistake them, and his honour obliges him to resent it in a -proper manner; however, be assured, gentlemen never laugh at, or -ridicule one another, unless they are in joke, or on a footing of the -greatest intimacy. If such a thing should happen once in an age, from -some pert coxcomb, or some flippant woman, it is better to seem not to -know it, than to make the least reply. - -30. IT is a piece of politeness not to interrupt a person in a story, -whether you have heard it before or not. Nay, if a well-bred man is -asked whether he has heard it; he will answer no, and let the person go -on, though he knows it already. Some are fond of telling a story, -because they think they tell it well, others pride themselves in being -the first teller of it, and others are pleased at being thought -entrusted with it. Now, all these persons you would disappoint by -answering yes. And, as I have told you before, as the greatest proof of -politeness is to make every body happy about you, I would never deprive -a person of any secret satisfaction of this sort, in which I could -gratify him by a minute’s attention. - -31. BE not ashamed of asking questions, if such questions lead to -information; always accompany them with some excuse, and you never will -be reckoned impertinent. But abrupt questions, without some apology, by -all means avoid, as they imply design. There is a way of fishing for -facts, which, if done judiciously, will answer every purpose, such as, -taking things you wish to know for granted; this will perhaps lead some -officious person to set you right. So again, by saying, you have heard -so and so, and sometimes seeming to know more than you do, you will -often get at information, which you would lose by direct questions, as -these would put people on their guard, and frequently defeat the very -end you aim at. - -32. MAKE it a rule never to reflect on any body of people, for, -reflections of this nature create many enemies. There are good and bad -of all professions; lawyers, soldiers, parsons, or citizens. They are -all men, subject to the same passions, differing only in their manner, -according to the way they have been bred up in. For this reason, it is -unjust, as well as indiscreet, to attack them as a CORPS collectively. -Many a young man has thought himself extremely clever in abusing the -clergy. What are the clergy more than other men? Can you suppose a black -gown can make any alteration in his nature? Fie, fie; think seriously, -and I am convinced you will never do it. - -33. BUT above all, let no example, no fashion, no witticism, no foolish -desire of rising above what knaves call prejudices, tempt you to excuse, -extenuate or ridicule the least breach of morality; but upon every -occasion, shew the greatest abhorrence of such proceedings, and hold -virtue and religion in the highest veneration. - -34. IT is a great piece of ill-manners to interrupt any one while -speaking, by speaking yourself, or calling off the attention of the -company to any foreign matter. But this every child knows. - -35. THE last thing I shall mention is that of concealing your learning, -except on particular occasions. Reserve this for learned men, and let -them rather extort it from you, than you be too willing to display it. -Hence you will be thought modest, and to have more knowledge than you -really have. Never seem wise or more learned than the company you are -in. He who affects to shew his learning, will be frequently questioned; -and if found superficial, will be sneered at; if otherwise, he will be -deemed a pedant. Real merit will always shew itself, and nothing can -lessen it in the opinion of the world, but a man’s exhibiting it -himself. - -FOR God’s sake, revolve all these things seriously in your mind, before -you go abroad into life. Recollect the observations you have yourself -occasionally made upon men and things, compare them with my -instructions, and act wisely, and consequently, as they shall teach you. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A - FATHER’S LEGACY - TO - HIS DAUGHTERS. - - -MY DEAR GIRLS, - -YOU had the misfortune to be deprived of your mother, at a time of life -when you were insensible of your loss, and could receive little benefit, -either from her instruction, or her example. Before this comes to your -hands, you will likewise have lost your father. - -I HAVE had many melancholy reflections on the forlorn and helpless -situation you must be in, if it should please God to remove me from you -before you arrive at that period of life, when you will be able to think -and act for yourselves. I know mankind too well. I know their falsehood, -their dissipation, their coldness to all the duties of friendship and -humanity. I know the little attention paid to helpless infancy. You will -meet with few friends disinterested enough to do you good offices, when -you are incapable of making them any return, by contributing to their -interest or their pleasure, or to the gratification of their vanity. - -I HAVE been supported under the gloom naturally arising from these -reflections, by a reliance on the goodness of that Providence which has -hitherto preferred you, and given me the most pleasing prospect of the -goodness of your dispositions; and by the secret hope, that your -mother’s virtues will entail a blessing on her children. - -THE anxiety I have for your happiness has made me resolve to throw -together my sentiments, relating to your future conduct in life. If I -live for some years, you will receive them with much greater advantage, -suited to your different geniuses and dispositions. If I die sooner, you -must receive them in this very imperfect manner,—the last proof of my -affection. - -YOU will all remember your father’s fondness, when perhaps every other -circumstance relating to him is forgotten. This remembrance, I hope, -will induce you to give a serious attention to the advices I am now -going to leave with you.—I can request this attention with the greater -confidence, as my sentiments on the most interesting points that regard -life and manners, were entirely correspondent to your mother’s, whose -judgment and taste I trusted much more than my own. - -YOU must expect that the advice which I shall give you will be very -imperfect, as there are many nameless delicacies, in female manners, of -which none but a woman can judge. - -YOU will have one advantage by attending to what I am going to leave -with you; you will hear, at least for once in your lives, the genuine -sentiments of a man, who has no interest in flattering or deceiving -you.—I shall throw my reflections together without any studied order, -and shall only, to avoid confusion range them under a few general heads. - -YOU will see, in a little treatise of mine just published, in what an -honourable point of view I have considered your sex; not as domestic -drudges, or the slaves of our pleasures, but as our companions and -equals; as designed to soften our hearts and polish our manners; and as -Thomson finely says, - - _To raise the virtues, animate the bliss, - And sweeten all the toils of human life._ - -I shall not repeat what I have there said on this subject, and shall -only observe, that from the view I have given of your natural character -and place in society, there arises a certain propriety of conduct -peculiar to your sex. It is this peculiar propriety of female manners of -which I intend to give you my sentiments, without touching on those -general rules of conduct by which men and women are equally bound. - -WHILE I explain to you that system of conduct which I think will tend -most to your honour and happiness, I shall, at the same time, endeavour -to point out those virtues and accomplishment which render you most -respectable and most amiable in the eyes of my own sex. - - - RELIGION. - -THOUGH the duties of religion, strictly speaking, are equally binding on -both sexes, yet certain differences in their natural character and -education, render some vices in your sex particularly odious. The -natural hardiness of our hearts, and strength of our passions, inflamed -by the uncontrouled license we are too often indulged with in our youth, -are apt to render our manners more dissolute, and make us less -susceptible of the finer feelings of the heart. Your superior delicacy, -your modesty, and the usual severity of your education, preserve you, in -a great measure, from any temptation to those vices to which we are most -subjected. The natural softness and sensibility of your dispositions -particularly fit you for the practice of those duties where the heart is -chiefly concerned. And this, along with the natural warmth of your -imaginations, renders you peculiarly susceptible of the feelings of -devotion. - -THERE are many circumstances in your situation that peculiarly require -the supports of religion to enable you to act in them with spirit and -propriety. Your whole life is often a life of suffering. You cannot -plunge into business, or dissipate yourselves in pleasure and riot, as -men too often do, when under the pressure of misfortunes. You must bear -your sorrows in silence, unknown and unpitied. You must often put on a -face of serenity and cheerfulness, when your hearts are torn with -anguish, or sinking in despair. Then your only resource is in the -consolations of religion. It is chiefly owing to these that you bear -domestic misfortunes better than we do. - -BUT you are sometimes in very different circumstances, that equally -require the restraints of religion. The natural vivacity, and perhaps -the natural vanity of your sex, are very apt to lead you into a -dissipated state of life, that deceives you, under the appearance of -innocent pleasure; but which in reality wastes your spirits, impairs -your health, weakens all the superior faculties of your minds, and often -sullies your reputations. Religion by checking this dissipation and rage -for pleasure, enables you to draw more happiness, even from those very -sources of amusement, which when too frequently applied to, are often -productive of satiety and disgust. - -RELIGION is rather a matter of sentiment than reasoning. The important -and interesting articles of faith are sufficiently plain. Fix your -attention on these, and do not meddle with controversy. If you get into -that, you plunge into a chaos, from which you will never be able to -extricate yourselves. It spoils the temper, and, I suspect, has no good -effect on the heart. - -AVOID all books, and all conversation, that tend to shake your faith on -those great points of religion which should serve to regulate your -conduct, and on which your hopes of future and eternal happiness depend. - -NEVER indulge yourselves in ridicule on religious subjects; nor give -countenance to it in others, by seeming diverted with what they say. -This, to people of good-breeding, will be a sufficient check. - -I WISH you to go no farther than the Scriptures for your religious -opinions. Embrace those you find clearly revealed. Never perplex -yourselves about such as you do not understand, but treat them with -silent and becoming reverence.—I would advise you to read only such -religious books as are addressed to the heart; such as inspire pious and -devout affections, such as are proper to direct you in your conduct, and -not such as tend to entangle you in the endless maze of opinions and -systems. - -BE punctual in the stated performance of your private devotions morning -and evening. If you have any sensibility or imagination, this will -establish such an intercourse between you and the Supreme Being, as will -be of infinite consequence to you in life. It will communicate an -habitual cheerfulness to your tempers; give a firmness and steadiness to -your virtue, and enable you to go through all the vicissitudes of human -life with propriety and dignity. - -I WISH you to be regular in your attendance on public worship, and in -receiving the communion. Allow nothing to interrupt your public or -private devotions, except the performance of some active duty in life, -to which they should always give place.—In your behaviour at public -worship, observe an exemplary attention and gravity. - -THAT extreme strictness which I recommend to you in these duties, will -be considered by many of your acquaintance as a superstitious attachment -to forms; but in the advice I give you on this and other subjects, I -have an eye to the spirit and manners of the age. There is a levity and -dissipation in the present manners, a coldness and listlessness in -whatever relates to religion, which cannot fail to infect you, unless -you purposely cultivate in your minds a contrary bias, and make the -devotional taste habitual. - -AVOID all grimace and ostentation in your religious duties. They are the -usual cloaks of hypocrisy; at least they shew a weak and vain mind. - -DO not make religion a subject of common conversation in mixed -companies. When it is introduced, rather seem to decline it. At the same -time, never suffer any person to insult you by any foolish ribaldry on -your religious opinions, but shew the same resentment you would -naturally do on being offered any other personal insult. But the surest -way to avoid this, is by a modest reserve on the subject, and by using -no freedom with others about their religious sentiments. - -CULTIVATE an enlarged charity for all mankind, however they may differ -from you in their religious opinions. That difference may probably arise -from causes in which you had no share, and from which you can derive no -merit. - -SHEW your regard to religion, by a distinguishing respect to all its -ministers, of whatever persuasion, who do not by their lives dishonour -their profession; but never allow them the direction of your consciences -lest they taint you with the narrow spirit of their party. - -THE best effect of your religion will be a diffusive humanity to all in -distress.—Set apart a certain proportion of your income as sacred to -charitable purposes. But in this, as well as in the practice of every -other duty, carefully avoid ostentation. Vanity is always defeating her -own purposes. Fame is one of the natural rewards of virtue. Do not -pursue her, and she will follow you. - -DO not confine your charity to giving money. You may have many -opportunities of shewing a tender and compassionate spirit where your -money is not wanted.—There is a false and unnatural refinement in -sensibility, which makes some people shun the sight of every object in -distress. Never indulge this, especially where your friends or -acquaintances are concerned. Let the days of their misfortunes, when the -world forgets or avoids them, be the season for you to exercise your -humanity and friendship. The sight of human misery softens the heart, -and makes it better; it checks the pride of health and prosperity, and -the distress it occasions is amply compensated by the consciousness of -doing your duty, and by the secret endearments which nature has annexed -to all our sympathetic sorrows. - -WOMEN are greatly deceived, when they think they recommend themselves to -our sex by their indifference about religion. Even those men who are -themselves unbelievers dislike infidelity in you. Every man who knows -human nature, connects a religious taste in your sex with softness and -sensibility of heart; at least we always consider the want of it as a -proof of that hard and masculine spirit, which of all your faults we -dislike the most. Besides, men consider your religion as one of their -principal securities for that female virtue in which they are most -interested. If a gentleman pretends an attachment to any of you, and -endeavours to shake your religious principles, be assured he is either a -fool, or has designs on you which he dares not openly avow. - -YOU will probably wonder at my having educated you in a church different -from my own. The reason was plainly this: I looked on the differences -between our churches to be of no real importance, and that a preference -of one to the other was a mere matter of taste. Your mother was educated -in the church of England, and had an attachment to it, and I had a -prejudice in favour of every thing she liked. It never was her desire -that you should be baptized by a clergyman of the church of England, or -be educated in that church. On the contrary, the delicacy of her regard -to the smallest circumstance that could affect me in the eye of the -world, made her anxiously insist it might be otherwise. But I could not -yield to her in that kind of generality.—When I lost her, I became still -more determined to educate you in that church, as I feel a secret -pleasure in doing every thing that appears to me to express my affection -and veneration for her memory.—I draw but a very faint and imperfect -picture of what your mother was, while I endeavour to point out what you -should be.[2] - -Footnote 2: - - The reader will remember, that such observations as respect equally - both the sexes are all along as much as possible avoided. - - - CONDUCT AND BEHAVIOUR. - -ONE of the chiefest beauties in a female character is that modest -reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye, and is -disconcerted even at the gaze of admiration.—I do not wish you to be -insensible to applause. If you were, you must become, if not worse, at -least less amiable women. But you may be dazzled by that admiration, -which yet rejoices your hearts. - -WHEN a girl ceases to blush, she has lost the most powerful charm of -beauty. That extreme sensibility which it indicates, may be a weakness -and incumbrance in our sex, as I have too often felt; but in yours it is -peculiarly engaging. Pedants, who think themselves philosophers, ask why -a woman should blush when she is conscious of no crime. It is a -sufficient answer, that Nature has made you to blush when you are guilty -of no fault, and has forced us to love you because you do so.—Blushing -is so far from being necessarily an attendant on guilt, that it is the -usual companion of innocence. - -THIS modesty, which I think so essential in your sex, will naturally -dispose you to be rather silent in company, especially in a large -one.—People of sense and discernment will never mistake such silence for -dulness. One may take a share in conversation without uttering a -syllable. The expression in the countenance shews it, and this never -escapes an observing eye. - -I SHOULD be glad that you had an easy dignity in your behaviour at -public places, but not that confident ease, that unabashed countenance, -which seems to set the company at defiance.—If, while a gentleman is -speaking to you, one of superior rank addresses you, do not let your -eager attention and visible preference betray the flutter of your heart. -Let your pride on this occasion preserve you from that meanness into -which your vanity would sink you. Consider that you expose yourselves to -the ridicule of the company, and affront one gentleman only to swell the -triumph of another, who perhaps thinks he does you honour in speaking to -you. - -CONVERSE with men even of the first rank with that dignified modesty, -which may prevent the approach of the most distant familiarity, and -consequently prevent them from feeling themselves your superiors. - -WIT is the most dangerous talent you can possess. It must be guarded -with great discretion and good-nature, otherwise it will create you many -enemies. It is perfectly consistent with softness and delicacy; yet they -are seldom found united. Wit is so flattering to vanity, that those who -possess it become intoxicated, and lose all self-command. - -HUMOUR is a different quality. It will make your company much solicited; -but be cautious how you indulge it.—It is often a great enemy to -delicacy, and a still greater one to dignity of character. It may -sometimes gain you applause, but will never procure you respect. - -BE even cautious in displaying your good sense. It will be thought you -assume a superiority over the rest of the company. But if you happen to -have any learning, keep it a profound secret, especially from the men, -who generally look with a jealous and malignant eye on a woman of great -parts, and a cultivated understanding. - -A MAN of real genius and candour is far superior to this meanness. But -such a one will seldom fall in your way; and if by accident he should, -do not be anxious to shew the full extent of your knowledge. If he has -any opportunities of seeing you, he will soon discover it himself; and -if you have any advantages of person or manner, and keep your own -secret, he will probably give you credit for a great deal more than you -possess.—The great art of pleasing in conversation consists in making -the company pleased with themselves. You will more readily hear than -talk yourselves into their good graces. - -BEWARE of detraction, especially where your own sex are concerned. You -are generally accused of being particularly addicted to this vice; I -think unjustly.—Men are fully as guilty of it when their interests -interfere. As your interests more frequently clash, and as your feelings -are quicker than ours, your temptations to it are more frequent. For -this reason, be particularly tender of the reputation of your own sex, -especially when they happen to rival you in our regards. We look on this -as the strongest proof of dignity and true greatness of mind. - -SHEW a compassionate sympathy to unfortunate women, especially to those -who are rendered so by the villany of men. Indulge a secret pleasure, I -may say pride, in being the friends and refuge of the unhappy, but -without the vanity of shewing it. - -CONSIDER every species of indelicacy in conversation, as shameful in -itself, and as highly disgusting to us. All double entendre is of this -sort.—The dissoluteness of men’s education allows them to be diverted -with a kind of wit, which yet they have delicacy enough to be shocked -at, when it comes from your mouths, or even when you hear it without -pain and contempt. Virgin purity is of that delicate nature, that it -cannot hear certain things without contamination. It is always in your -power to avoid these. No man, but a brute or a fool, will insult a woman -with conversation which he sees gives her pain; nor will he dare to do -it, if she resent the injury with a becoming spirit.—There is a dignity -in conscious virtue which is able to awe the most shameless and -abandoned of men. - -YOU will be reproached perhaps with prudery. By prudery is usually meant -an affectation of delicacy. Now I do not wish you to affect delicacy; I -wish you to possess it. At any rate, it is better to run the risk of -being thought ridiculous than disgusting. - -THE men will complain of your reserve. They will assure you, that a -franker behaviour would make you more amiable. But trust me, they are -not sincere when they tell you so.—I acknowledge, that on some occasions -it might render you more agreeable as companions, but it would make you -less amiable as women; an important distinction which many of your sex -are not aware of.—After all, I wish you to have great ease and openness -in your conversation. I only point out some considerations which ought -to regulate your behaviour in that respect. - -HAVE a sacred regard to truth. Lying is a mean and despicable vice.—I -have known some women of excellent parts, who were so much addicted to -it, that they could not be trusted in the relation of any story, -especially if it contained any thing of the marvellous, or if they -themselves were the heroines of the tale. This weakness did not proceed -from a bad heart, but was merely the effect of vanity, or an unbridled -imagination.—I do not mean to censure that lively embellishment of a -humorous story, which is only intended to promote innocent mirth. - -THERE is a certain gentleness of spirit and manners extremely engaging -in your sex; not that indiscriminate attention, that unmeaning simper, -which smiles on all alike. This arises, either from an affectation of -softness, or from perfect insipidity. - -THERE is a species of refinement in luxury, just beginning to prevail -among the gentlemen of this country, to which our ladies are yet as -great strangers as any women upon earth; I hope, for the honour of the -sex, they may ever continue so: I mean, the luxury of eating. It is a -despicable selfish vice in men, but in your sex it is beyond expression -indelicate and disgusting. - -EVERY one who remembers a few years back, is sensible of a very striking -change in the attention and respect formerly paid by the gentlemen to -the ladies. Their drawing-rooms are deserted; and after dinner and -supper, the gentlemen are impatient till they retire. How they came to -lose this respect, which nature and politeness so well intitle them to, -I shall not here particularly inquire. The revolutions of manners in any -country depend on causes very various and complicated. I shall only -observe, that the behaviour of the ladies in the last age was very -reserved and stately. It would now be reckoned ridiculously stiff and -formal. Whatever it was, it had certainly the effect of making them more -respected. - -A FINE woman, like other fine things in nature, has her proper point of -view, from which she may be seen to most advantage. To fix this point -requires great judgment, and an intimate knowledge of the human heart. -By the present mode of female manners, the ladies seem to expect that -they shall regain their ascendancy over us, by the fullest display of -their personal charms, by being always in our eye at public places, by -conversing with us with the same unreserved freedom as we do with one -another; in short, by resembling us as nearly as they possibly can.—But -a little time and experience will shew the folly of this expectation and -conduct. - -THE power of a fine woman over the hearts of men, men of the finest -parts, is even beyond what she conceives. They are sensible of the -pleasing illusion, but they cannot, nor do they wish to dissolve it. But -if she is determined to dispel the charm, it certainly is in her power: -she may soon reduce the angel to a very ordinary girl. - -THERE is a native dignity, an ingenuous modesty to be expected in your -sex, which is your natural protection from the familiarities of the men, -and which you should feel previous to the reflection that it is your -interest to keep yourselves sacred from all personal freedoms. The many -nameless charms and endearments of beauty should be reserved to bless -the arms of the happy man to whom you give your heart, but who, if he -has the least delicacy, will despise them, if he knows that they have -been prostituted to fifty men before him.—The sentiment, that a woman -may allow all innocent freedoms, provided her virtue is secure, is both -grossly indelicate and dangerous, and has proved fatal to many of your -sex. - -LET me now recommend to your attention that elegance, which is not so -much a quality itself, as the high polish of every other. It is what -diffuses an ineffable grace over every look, every motion, every -sentence you utter. It gives that charm to beauty without which it -generally fails to please. It is partly a personal quality, in which -respect it is the gift of nature; but I speak of it principally as a -quality of the mind. In a word, it is the perfection of taste in life -and manners;—every virtue and every excellence, in their most graceful -and amiable forms. - -YOU may perhaps think that I want to throw every spark of nature out of -your composition, and to make you entirely artificial. Far from it. I -wish you to possess the most perfect simplicity of heart and manners. I -think you may possess dignity without pride, affability without -meanness, and simple elegance without affectation. Milton had my idea, -when he says of Eve, - -_Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity -and love._ - - - AMUSEMENTS. - -EVERY period of life has amusements which are natural and proper to it. -You may indulge the variety of your tastes in these, while you keep -within the bounds of that propriety which is suitable to your sex. - -SOME amusements are conducive to health, as various kinds of exercise: -some are connected with qualities really useful, as different kinds of -women’s work, and all the domestic concerns of a family: some are -elegant accomplishments, as dress, dancing, music, and drawing. Such -books as improve your understanding, enlarge your knowledge, and -cultivate your taste, may be considered in a higher point of view than -mere amusements. There are a variety of others, which are neither useful -nor ornamental, such as play of different kinds. - -I WOULD particularly recommend to you those exercises that oblige you to -be much abroad in the open air, such as walking, and riding on horse -back. This will give vigour to your constitutions, and a bloom to your -complexions. If you accustom yourselves to go abroad always in chairs -and carriages, you will soon become so enervated, as to be unable to go -out of doors without them. They are like most articles of luxury, useful -and agreeable when judiciously used; but when made habitual, they become -both insipid and pernicious. - -AN attention to your health is a duty you owe to yourselves and to your -friends. Bad health seldom fails to have an influence on the spirits and -temper. The finest geniuses, the most delicate minds, have very -frequently a correspondent delicacy of bodily constitutions, which they -are too apt to neglect. Their luxury lies in reading and late hours, -equal enemies to health and beauty. - -BUT though good health be one of the greatest blessings of life, never -make a boast of it, but enjoy it in grateful silence. We so naturally -associate the idea of female softness and delicacy with a correspondent -delicacy of constitution, that when a woman speaks of her great -strength, her extraordinary appetite, her ability to bear excessive -fatigue, we recoil at the description in a way she is little aware of. - -THE intention of your being taught needlework, knitting, and such like, -is not on account of the intrinsic value of all you can do with your -hands, which is trifling, but to enable you to judge more perfectly of -that kind of work, and to direct the execution of it in others. Another -principal end is to enable you to fill up, in a tolerably agreeable way, -some of the many solitary hours you must necessarily pass at home. It is -a great article in the happiness of life, to have your pleasures as -independent of others as possible. By continually gadding abroad in -search of amusement, you lose the respect of all your acquaintances, -whom you oppress with those visits, which, by a more discreet -management, might have been courted. - -THE domestic economy of a family is entirely a woman’s province, and -furnishes a variety of subjects for the exertion both of good sense and -good taste. If you ever come to have the charge of a family, it ought to -engage much of your time and attention; nor can you be excused from this -by any extent of fortune, though with a narrow one the ruin that follows -the neglect of it may be more immediate. - -I AM at the greatest loss what to advise you in regard to books. There -is no impropriety in your reading history, or cultivating any art or -science to which genius or accident leads you. The whole volume of -Nature lies open to your eye, and furnishes an infinite variety of -entertainment. If I was sure that nature had given you such strong -principles of taste and sentiment as would remain with you, and -influence your future conduct, with the utmost pleasure would I -endeavour to direct your reading in such a way as might form that taste -to the utmost perfection of truth and elegance. “But when I reflect how -easy it is to warm a girl’s imagination, and how difficult deeply and -permanently to affect her heart; how readily she enters into every -refinement of sentiment, and how easily she can sacrifice them to vanity -or convenience;” I think I may very probably do you an injury by -artificially creating a taste, which, if Nature never gave it you, would -only serve to embarrass your future conduct.—I do not want to _make_ you -any thing: I want to know what Nature has made you, and to perfect you -on her plan. I do not wish you to have sentiments that might perplex -you: I wish you to have sentiments that may uniformly and steadily guide -you, and such as your hearts so thoroughly approve, that you would not -forego them for any consideration this world could offer. - -DRESS is an important article in female life. The love of dress is -natural to you, and therefore it is proper and reasonable. Good sense -will regulate your expence in it, and good taste will direct you to -dress in such a way as to conceal any blemishes, and set off your -beauties, if you have any, to the greatest advantage. But much delicacy -and judgement are required in the application of this rule. A fine woman -shews her charms to most advantage, when she seems most to conceal them. -The finest bosom in nature is not so fine as what imagination forms. The -most perfect elegance of dress appears always the most easy, and the -least studied. - -DO not confine your attention to dress to your public appearances. -Accustom yourselves to an habitual neatness, so that in the most -careless undress, in your unguarded hours, you may have no reason to be -ashamed of your appearance.—You will not easily believe how much we -consider your dress as expressive of your characters. Vanity, levity, -slovenliness, folly, appear through it. An elegant simplicity is an -equal proof of taste and delicacy. - -IN dancing, the principal points you are to attend to are ease and -grace. I would have you to dance with spirit; but never allow yourselves -to be so far transported with mirth, as to forget the delicacy of your -sex.—Many a girl dancing in the gaiety and innocence of her heart, is -thought to discover a spirit she little dreams of. - -I KNOW no entertainment that gives such pleasure to any person of -sentiment or humour, as the theatre. But I am sorry to say, there are -few English comedies a lady can see, without a shock to delicacy. You -will not readily suspect the comments gentlemen make on your behaviour -on such occasions. Men are often best acquainted with the most worthless -of your sex, and from them too readily form their judgment of the rest. -A virtuous girl often hears very indelicate things with a countenance no -wise embarrassed, because in truth she does not understand them. Yet -this is, most ungenerously, ascribed to that command of features, and -that ready presence of mind, which you are thought to possess in a -degree far beyond us; or, by still more malignant observers, it is -ascribed to hardened effrontery. - -SOMETIMES a girl laughs with all the simplicity of unsuspecting -innocence, for no other reason but being infected with other people’s -laughing: she is then believed to know more than she should do.—If she -does happen to understand an improper thing, she suffers a very -complicated distress: she feels her modesty hurt in the most sensible -manner, and at the same time is ashamed of appearing conscious of the -injury. The only way to avoid these inconveniencies, is never to go to a -play that is particularly offensive to delicacy.—Tragedy subjects you to -no such distress.—Its sorrows will soften and ennoble your hearts. - -I NEED say little about gaming, the ladies in this country being as yet -almost strangers to it. It is a ruinous and incurable vice; and as it -leads to all the selfish and turbulent passions, is peculiarly odious in -your sex. I have no objection to your playing a little at any kind of -game, as a variety in your amusements, provided that what you can -possibly lose is such a trifle as can neither interest nor hurt you. - -IN this, as well as in all important points of conduct, shew a -determined resolution and steadiness. This is not in the least -inconsistent with that softness and gentleness so amiable in your sex. -On the contrary, it gives that spirit to a mild and sweet disposition, -without which it is apt to degenerate into insipidity. It makes you -respectable in your own eyes, and dignifies you in ours. - - - FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, MARRIAGE. - -THE luxury and dissipation that prevail in genteel life, as they corrupt -the heart in many respects, so they render it incapable of warm, -sincere, and steady friendship. A happy choice of friends will be of the -utmost consequence to you, as they may assist you by their advice and -good offices. But the immediate gratification which friendship affords -to a warm, open and ingenuous heart, is of itself a sufficient motive to -court it. - -IN the choice of your friends, have principal regard to goodness of -heart and fidelity. If they also possess taste and genius, that will -still make them more agreeable and useful companions. You have -particular reason to place confidence in those who have shewn affection -for you in your early days, when you were incapable of making them any -return. This is an obligation for which you cannot be too grateful: When -you read this, you will naturally think of your mother’s friend, to whom -you owe so much. - -IF you have the good fortune to meet with any who deserve the name of -friends, unbosom yourself to them with the most unsuspicious confidence. -It is one of the world’s maxims, never to trust any person with a -secret, the discovery of which could give you any pain; but it is the -maxim of a little mind and a cold heart, unless where it is the effect -of frequent disappointments and bad usage. An open temper, if restrained -but by tolerable prudence, will make you, on the whole, much happier -than a reserved suspicious one, although you may sometimes suffer by it. -Coldness and distrust are but the too certain consequences of age and -experience; but they are unpleasant feelings, and need not be -anticipated before their time. - -BUT however open you may be in talking of your own affairs, never -disclose the secrets of one friend to another. These are sacred -deposites, which do not belong to you, nor have you any right to make -use of them. - -THERE is another case, in which I suspect it is proper to be secret, not -so much from motives of prudence, as delicacy. I mean in love matters. -Though a woman has no reason to be ashamed of an attachment to a man of -merit, yet nature, whose authority is superior to philosophy, has -annexed a sense of shame to it. It is even long before a woman of -delicacy dares avow to her own heart that she loves; and when all the -subterfuges of ingenuity to conceal it from herself fail, she feels a -violence done both to her pride and to her modesty. This, I should -imagine, must always be the case where she is not sure of a return to -her attachment. - -IN such a situation, to lay the heart open to any person whatever, does -not appear to me consistent with the perfection of female delicacy. But -perhaps I am in the wrong.—At the same time I must tell you, that, in -point of prudence, it concerns you to attend well to the consequences of -such a discovery. These secrets, however important in your own -estimation, may appear very trifling to your friend, who possibly will -not enter into your feelings, but may rather consider them as a subject -of pleasantry. For this reason, love-secrets are of all others the worst -kept. But the consequences to you may be very serious, as no man of -spirit and delicacy ever valued a heart much hackneyed in the ways of -love. - -IF, therefore, you must have a friend to pour out your heart to, be sure -of her honour and secrecy. Let her not be a married woman, especially if -she lives happily with her husband, There are certain unguarded moments, -in which such a woman, though the best and worthiest of her sex, may let -hints escape, which at other times, or to any other person than her -husband, she would be incapable of; nor will a husband in this case feel -himself under the same obligation of secrecy and honour, as if you had -put your confidence originally in himself, especially on a subject which -the world is apt to treat so lightly. - -IF all other circumstances are equal, there are obvious advantages in -your making friends of one another. The ties of blood, and your being so -much united in one common interest, form an additional bond of union to -your friendship. If your brothers should have the good fortune to have -hearts susceptible of friendship, to possess truth, honour, sense, and -delicacy of sentiment, they are the fittest and most unexceptionable -confidants. By placing confidence in them, you will receive every -advantage which you could hope for from the friendship of men, without -any of the inconveniencies that attend such connexions with our sex. - -BEWARE of making confidants of your servants. Dignity not properly -understood very readily degenerates into pride, which enters into no -friendships, because it cannot bear an equal, and is so fond of flattery -as to grasp at it even from servants and dependants. The most intimate -confidants, therefore, of proud people are valets-de-chamber and waiting -women. Shew the utmost humanity to your servants; make their situation -as comfortable to them as is possible: but if you make them your -confidants, you spoil them, and debase yourselves. - -NEVER allow any person, under the pretended sanction of friendship, to -be so familiar as to lose a proper respect for you. Never allow them to -tease you on any subject that is disagreeable, or where you have once -taken your resolution. Many will tell you, that this reserve is -inconsistent with the freedom which friendship allows. But a certain -respect is as necessary in friendship as in love. Without it, you may be -liked as a child, but you will never be beloved as an equal. - -THE temper and dispositions of the heart in your sex make you enter more -readily and warmly into friendships than men. Your natural propensity to -it is so strong, that you often run into intimacies which you soon have -sufficient cause to repent of; and this makes your friendships so very -fluctuating. - -ANOTHER great obstacle to the sincerity as well as steadiness of your -friendships is the great clashing of your interests in the pursuits of -love, ambition, or vanity. For these reasons, it should appear at first -view more eligible for you to contract your friendships with the men. -Among other obvious advantages of an easy intercourse between the two -sexes, it occasions an emulation and exertion in each to excel and be -agreeable: hence their respective excellencies are mutually communicated -and blended.—As their interests in no degree interfere, there can be no -foundation for jealousy or suspicion of rivalship. The friendship of a -man for a woman is always blended with a tenderness, which he never -feels for one of his own sex, even where love is in no degree concerned. -Besides we are conscious of a natural title you have to our protection -and good offices, and therefore we feel an additional obligation of -honour to serve you, and to observe an inviolable secrecy, whenever you -confide in us. - -BUT apply these observations with great caution. Thousands of women of -the best hearts and finest parts have been ruined by men who approached -them under the specious name of friendship. But supposing a man to have -the most undoubted honour, yet his friendship to a woman is so near -a-kin to love, that if she be very agreeable in her person, she will -probably very soon find a lover, where she only wished to meet a friend. -Let me here, however, warn you against that weakness so common among -vain women, the imagination that every man who takes particular notice -of you is a lover. Nothing can expose you more to ridicule, than the -taking up a man on the suspicion of being your lover, who perhaps never -once thought of you in that view, and giving yourselves those airs so -common among silly women on such occasions. - -THERE is a kind of unmeaning gallantry much practised by some men, -which, if you have any discernment, you will find really harmless. Men -of this sort will attend you to public places, and be useful to you by a -number of little observances, which those of a superior class do not so -well understand, or have not leisure to regard, or perhaps are too proud -to submit to. Look on the compliments of such men as words of course, -which they repeat to every agreeable woman of their acquaintance. There -is a familiarity they are apt to assume, which a proper dignity in your -behaviour will be easily able to check. - -THERE is a different species of men whom you may like as agreeable -companions, men of worth, taste and genius, whose conversation, in some -respects, may be superior to what you generally meet with among your own -sex. It will be foolish in you to deprive yourselves of an useful and -agreeable acquaintance, merely because idle people say he is your lover. -Such a man may like your company, without having any design on your -person. - -PEOPLE whose sentiments, and particularly whose tastes correspond, -naturally like to associate together, although neither of them have the -most distant view of any further connexion. But as this similarity of -minds often gives rise to a more tender attachment than friendship, it -will be prudent to keep a watchful eye over yourselves, lest your hearts -become too far engaged before you are aware of it. At the same time, I -do not think that your sex, at least in this part of the world, have -much of that sensibility which disposes to such attachments. What is -commonly called love among you is rather gratitude, and a partiality to -the man who prefers you to the rest of your sex; and such a man you -often marry, with little of either personal esteem or affection. Indeed, -without an unusual share of natural sensibility, and very peculiar good -fortune, a woman in this country has very little probability of marrying -for love. - -IT is a maxim laid down among you, and a very prudent one it is. That -love is not to begin on your part, but is entirely to be the consequence -of our attachment to you. Now, supposing a woman to have sense and -taste, she will not find many men to whom she can possibly be supposed -to bear any considerable share of esteem. Among these few, it is a very -great chance if any of them distinguishes her particularly. Love, at -least with us, is exceedingly capricious, and will not always fix where -reason says it should. But supposing one of them should become -particularly attached to her, it is still extremely improbable that he -should be the man in the world her heart most approved of. - -AS, therefore, Nature has not given you that unlimited range in your -choice which we enjoy, she has wisely and benevolently assigned to you a -greater flexibility of taste on this subject. Some agreeable qualities -recommend a gentleman to your common good liking and friendship. In the -course of his acquaintance, he contracts an attachment to you. When you -perceive it, it excites your gratitude; this gratitude rises into a -preference, and this preference perhaps at last advances to some degree -of attachment, especially if it meets with crosses and difficulties, for -these, and a state of suspense, are very great incitements to -attachment, and are the food of love in both sexes. If attachment was -not excited in your sex in this manner, there is not one of a million of -you that could ever marry with any degree of love. - -A MAN of taste and delicacy marries a woman because he loves her more -than any other. A woman of equal taste and delicacy marries him because -she esteems him, and because he gives her that preference. But if a man -unfortunately becomes attached to a woman whose heart is secretly -pre-engaged, his attachment, instead of obtaining a suitable return, is -particularly offensive; and if he persists to teaze her, he makes -himself equally the object of her scorn and aversion. - -THE effects of love among men are diversified by their different -tempers. An artful man may counterfeit every one of them so as easily to -impose on a young girl of an open, generous, and feeling heart, if she -is not extremely on her guard. The finest parts in such a girl may not -always prove sufficient for her security. The dark and crooked paths of -cunning are unsearchable, and inconceivable to an honourable and -elevated mind. - -THE following, I apprehend, are the most genuine effects of an -honourable passion among the men, and the most difficult to counterfeit. -A man of delicacy often betrays his passion by his too great anxiety to -conceal it, especially if he has little hopes of success. True love, in -all its stages, seeks concealment, and never expects success. It renders -a man not only respectful, but timid to the highest degree in his -behaviour to the woman he loves. To conceal the awe he stands in of her, -he may sometimes affect pleasantry, but it sits aukwardly on him, and he -quickly relapses into seriousness, if not into dulness. He magnifies all -her real perfections in his imagination, and is either blind to her -failings, or converts them into beauties. Like a person conscious of -guilt, he is jealous that every eye observes him; and to avoid this, he -shuns all the little observances of common gallantry. - -HIS heart and his character will be improved in every respect by his -attachment. His manners will become more gentle, and his conversation -more agreeable; but diffidence and embarrassment will always make him -appear to disadvantage in the company of his mistress. If the -fascination continue long, it will totally depress his spirit, and -extinguish every active, vigorous and manly principle of his mind. You -will find this subject beautifully and pathetically painted in Thomson’s -Spring. - -WHEN you observe in a gentleman’s behaviour these marks which I have -described above, reflect seriously what you are to do. If his attachment -is agreeable to you, I leave you to do as nature, good sense, and -delicacy shall direct you. If you love him let me advise you never to -discover to him the full extent of your love, no not although you marry -him. That sufficiently shews your preference, which is all he is -entitled to know. If he has delicacy, he will ask for no stronger proof -of your affection for your sake; if he has sense, he will not ask it for -his own. This is an unpleasant truth, but it is my duty to let you know -it; violent love cannot subsist, at least cannot be expressed, for any -time together, on both sides; otherwise the certain consequence, however -concealed, is satiety and disgust. Nature in this case has laid the -reserve on you. - -IF you see evident proofs of a gentleman’s attachment, and are -determined to shut your heart against him, as you ever hope to be used -with generosity by the person who shall engage your own heart, treat him -honourably and humanely. Do not let him linger in a miserable suspense, -but be anxious to let him know your sentiments with regard to him. - -HOWEVER people’s hearts may deceive them, there is scarcely a person -that can love for any time without at least some distant hope of -success. If you really wish to undeceive a lover, you may do it in a -variety of ways. There is a certain species of easy familiarity in your -behaviour, which may satisfy him, if he has any discernment left, that -he has nothing to hope for. But perhaps your particular temper may not -admit of this.—You may easily shew that you want to avoid his company; -but if he is a man whose friendship you wish to preserve, you may not -chuse this method, because then you lose him in every capacity.—You may -get a common friend to explain matters to him, or fall on many other -devices, if you are seriously anxious to put him out of suspense. - -BUT if you are resolved against every such method, at least do not shun -opportunities of letting him explain himself. If you do this, you act -barbarously and unjustly. If he brings you to an explanation, give him a -polite, but resolute and decisive answer. In whatever way you convey -your sentiments to him, if he is a man of spirit and delicacy, he will -give you no further trouble, nor apply to your friends for their -intercession. This last is a method of courtship which every man of -spirit will disdain.—He will never whine nor sue for your pity. That -would mortify him almost as much as your scorn. In short, you may -possibly break such a heart, but you cannot bend it.—Great pride always -accompanies delicacy, however concealed under the appearance of the -utmost gentleness and modesty, and is the passion of all others the most -difficult to conquer. - -THERE is a case where a woman may coquette justifiably to the utmost -verge which her conscience will allow. It is where a gentleman purposely -declines to make his addresses, till such time as he thinks himself -perfectly sure of her consent. This at bottom is intended to force a -woman to give up the undoubted privilege of her sex, the privilege of -her refusing; it is intended to force her to explain herself, in effect, -before the gentleman deigns to do it, and by this mean to oblige her to -violate the modesty and delicacy of her sex, and to invert the clearest -order of nature. All this sacrifice is proposed to be made merely to -gratify a most despicable vanity in a man who would degrade the very -woman whom he wishes to make his wife. - -IT is of great importance to distinguish, whether a gentleman who has -the appearance of being your lover delays to speak explicitly, from the -motive I have mentioned, or from a diffidence inseparable from true -attachment. In the one case, you can scarcely use him too ill: in the -other, you ought to use him with great kindness: and the greatest -kindness you can shew him, if you are determined not to listen to his -addresses, is to let him know it as soon as possible. - -I KNOW the many excuses with which women endeavour to justify themselves -to the world, and to their own consciences, when they act otherwise. -Sometimes they plead ignorance, or at least uncertainty, of the -gentleman’s real sentiments. That may sometimes be the case. Sometimes -they plead the decorums of their sex, which enjoin an equal behaviour to -all men, and forbid them to consider any man as a lover, till he has -directly told them so.—Perhaps few women carry their ideas of female -delicacy and decorum so far as I do. But I must say, you are not -entitled to plead the obligation of these virtues, in opposition to the -superior ones of gratitude, justice, and humanity. The man is entitled -to all these, who prefers you to the rest of your sex, and perhaps whose -greatest weakness is this very preference. The truth of the matter is, -vanity, and the love of admiration, are so prevailing passions among -you, that you may be considered to make a very great sacrifice whenever -you give up a lover, till every art of coquetry fails to keep him, or -till he forces you to an explanation. You can be fond of the love, when -you are indifferent to, or even when you despise the lover. - -BUT the deepest and most artful coquetry is employed by women of -superior taste and sense, to engage and fix the heart of a man whom the -world and whom they themselves esteem, although they are firmly -determined never to marry him. But his conversation amuses them, and his -attachment is the highest gratification to their vanity; nay, they can -sometimes be gratified with the utter ruin of his fortune, fame, and -happiness.—God forbid I should ever think so of all your sex. I know -many of them have principles, have generosity and dignity of soul that -elevates them above the worthless vanity I have been speaking of. - -SUCH a woman, I am persuaded, may always convert a lover, if she cannot -give him her affections, into a warm and steady friend, provided he is a -man of sense, resolution, and candour. If she explains herself to him -with a generous openness and freedom, he must feel the stroke as a man; -but he will likewise bear it as a man: what he suffers he will suffer in -silence. Every sentiment of esteem will remain; but love though it -requires very little food, and is easily surfeited with too much, yet it -requires some. He will view her in the light of a married woman; and -though passion subsides, yet a man of a candid and generous heart always -retains a tenderness for a woman he has once loved, and who has used him -well, beyond what he feels for any other of her sex. - -IF he has not confided his own secret to any body, he has an undoubted -title to ask you not to divulge it. If a woman chuses to trust any of -her companions with her own unfortunate attachments, she may, as it is -her own affair alone: but if she has any generosity or gratitude, she -will not betray a secret which does not belong to her. - -MALE coquetry is much more inexcusable than female, as well as more -pernicious; but it is rare in this country. Very few men will give -themselves the trouble to gain or retain any woman’s affections, unless -they have views on her either of an honourable or dishonourable kind. -Men employed in the pursuits of business, ambition, or pleasure, will -not give themselves the trouble to engage a woman’s affections merely -from the vanity of conquest, and of triumphing over the heart of an -innocent and defenceless girl. Besides, people never value much what is -entirely in their power. A man of parts, sentiment, and address, if he -lays aside all regard to truth and humanity, may engage the hearts of -fifty women at the same time, and may likewise conduct his coquetry with -so much art, as to put it out of the power of any of them to specify a -single expression that could be said to be directly expressive of love. - -THIS ambiguity of behaviour, this art of keeping one in suspense, is the -great secret of coquetry in both sexes. It is the more cruel in us, -because we can carry it what length we please, and continue it as long -as we please, without your being so much as at liberty to complain or -expostulate; whereas we can break our chain, and force you to explain, -whenever we become impatient of our situation. - -I HAVE insisted the more particularly on this subject of courtship, -because it may most readily happen to you at that early period of life -when you can have little experience or knowledge of the world, when your -passions are warm, and your judgments not arrived at such full maturity -as to be able to correct them.—I wish you to possess such high -principles of honour and generosity as will render you incapable of -deceiving, and at the same time to possess that acute discernment which -may secure you against being deceived. - -A WOMAN, in this country, may easily prevent the first impressions of -love, and every motive of prudence and delicacy should make her guard -her heart against them, till such time as she has received the most -convincing proof of the attachment of a man of such merit, as will -justify a reciprocal regard. Your hearts indeed may be shut inflexibly -and permanently against all the merit a man can possess. That may be -your misfortune, but cannot be your fault. In such a situation, you -would be equally unjust to yourself and your lover, if you gave him your -hand when your heart revolted against him. But miserable will be your -fate, if you allow an attachment to steal on you before you are sure of -a return; or, what is infinitely worse, where there are wanting those -qualities which alone can ensure happiness in a married state. - -I KNOW nothing that renders a woman more despicable, than her thinking -it essential to happiness to be married. Besides the gross indelicacy of -the sentiment, it is a false one, as thousands of women have -experienced. But if it was true, the belief that it is so, and the -consequent impatience to be married, is the most effectual way to -prevent it. - -YOU must not think from this, that I do not wish you to marry. On the -contrary, I am of opinion, that you may attain a superior degree of -happiness in a married state, to what you can possibly find in any -other. I know the forlorn and unprotected situation of an old maid, the -chagrin and peevishness which are apt to infect their tempers, and the -great difficulty of making a transition with dignity and chearfulness -from the period of youth, beauty, admiration, and respect, into the -calm, silent, unnoticed retreat of declining years. - -I SEE some unmarried women of active, vigorous minds, and great vivacity -of spirits, degrading themselves; sometimes by entering into a -dissipated course of life, unsuitable to their years, and exposing -themselves to the ridicule of girls, who might have been their -grand-children; sometimes by oppressing their acquaintances by -impertinent intrusions into their private affairs; and sometimes by -being the propagators of scandal and defamation. All this is owing to an -exuberant activity of spirit, which if it had found employment at home, -would have rendered them respectable and useful members of society. - -I SEE other women in the same situation, gentle, modest, blessed with -sense, taste, delicacy, and every milder feminine virtue of the heart, -but of weak spirits, bashful and timid: I see such women sinking into -obscurity and insignificance, and gradually losing every elegant -accomplishment; for this evident reason, that they are not united to a -partner who has sense, and worth, and taste, to know their value; one -who is able to draw forth their concealed qualities, and shew them to -advantage; who can give that support to their feeble spirits which they -stand so much in need of; and who, by his affection and tenderness, -might make such a woman happy in exerting every talent, and -accomplishing herself in every elegant art that could contribute to his -amusement. - -IN short, I am of opinion, that a married state, if entered into from -proper motives of esteem and affection, will be the happiest for -yourselves, and make you most respectable in the eyes of the world, and -the most useful members of society. But I confess I am not enough of a -patriot to wish you to marry for the good of the public. I wish you to -marry for no other reason but to make yourselves happier. When I am so -particular in my advices about your conduct, I own my heart beats with -the fond hope of making you worthy the attachment of men who will -deserve you, and be sensible of your merit. But heaven forbid you should -ever relinquish the ease and independence of a single life, to become -the slaves of a fool, or a tyrant’s caprice. - -AS these have been always my sentiments, I shall do you but justice, -when I leave you in such independent circumstances as may lay you under -no temptation to do from necessity what you would never do from -choice.—This will likewise save you from that cruel mortification to a -woman of spirit, the suspicion that a gentleman thinks he does you an -honour or a favour when he asks you for his wife. - -IF I live till you arrive at that age when you shall be capable to judge -for yourselves, and do not strangely alter my sentiments, I shall act -towards you in a very different manner from what most parents do. My -opinion has always been, that when that period arrives, the parental -authority ceases. - -I HOPE I shall always treat you with that affection and easy confidence -which may dispose you to look on me as your friend. In that capacity -alone I shall think myself entitled to give you my opinion; in the doing -of which, I should think myself highly criminal, if I did not to the -utmost of my power endeavour to divest myself of all personal vanity, -and all prejudices in favour of my particular taste. If you did not -chuse to follow my advice, I should not on that account cease to love -you as my children.—Though my right to your obedience was expired, yet I -should think nothing could release me from the ties of nature and -humanity. - -YOU may perhaps imagine, that the reserved behaviour which I recommend -to you, and your appearing seldom at public places, must cut off all -opportunities of your being acquainted with gentlemen. I am very far -from intending this. I advise you to no reserve, but what will render -you more respected and beloved by our sex. I do not think public places -suited to make people acquainted together. They can only be -distinguished there by their looks and external behaviour. But it is in -private companies alone where you can expect easy and agreeable -conversation, which I should never wish you to decline. If you do not -allow gentlemen to become acquainted with you, you can never expect to -marry with attachment on either side.—Love is very seldom produced at -first sight; at least it must have, in that case, a very unjustifiable -foundation. True love is founded on esteem, in a correspondence of -tastes and sentiments, and steals on the heart imperceptibly. - -THERE is one advice I shall leave you, to which I beg your particular -attention: Before your affections come to be in the least engaged to any -man, examine your tempers, your tastes, and your hearts, very severely, -and settle in your own minds, what are the requisites to your happiness -in a married state; and as it is almost impossible that you should get -every thing you wish, come to a steady determination what you are to -consider as essential, and what may be sacrificed. - -IF you have hearts disposed by nature for love and friendship, and -possess those feelings which enable you to enter into all the -refinements and delicacies of these attachments, consider well, for -heaven’s sake, and as you value your future happiness, before you give -them any indulgence. If you have the misfortune (for a very great -misfortune it commonly is to your sex) to have such a temper and such -sentiments deeply rooted in you, if you have spirit and resolution to -resist the solicitations of vanity, the persecution of friends (for you -will have lost the only friend that would never persecute you) and can -support the prospect of the many inconveniencies attending the state of -an old maid, which I formerly pointed out, then you may indulge -yourselves in that kind of sentimental reading and conversation which is -most correspondent to your feelings. - -BUT if you find, on a strict self-examination, that marriage is -absolutely essential to your happiness, keep the secret inviolable in -your own bosoms, for the reason I formerly mentioned; but shun as you -would do the most fatal poison, all that species of reading and -conversation which warms the imagination, which engages and softens the -heart, and raises the taste above the level of common life. If you do -otherwise, consider the terrible conflict of passions this may -afterwards raise in your breasts. - -IF this refinement once takes deep root in your minds, and you do not -obey its dictates, but marry from vulgar and mercenary views, you may -never be able to eradicate it entirely, and then it will imbitter all -your married days. Instead of meeting with sense, delicacy, tenderness, -a lover, a friend, an equal companion, in a husband, you may be tired -with insipidity and dullness; shocked with indelicacy, or mortified by -indifference. You will find none to compassionate, or even understand -your sufferings; for your husbands may not use you cruelly, and may give -you as much money for your clothes, personal expense, and domestic -necessaries, as is suitable to their fortunes. The world therefore would -look on you as unreasonable women, and that did not deserve to be happy, -if you were not so.—To avoid these complicated evils, if you are -determined at all events to marry, I would advise you to make all your -reading and amusements of such a kind, as do not affect the heart nor -the imagination, except in the way of wit or humour. - -I HAVE no view by these advices to lead your tastes; I only want to -persuade you of the necessity of knowing your own minds, which, though -seemingly very easy, is what your sex seldom attain on many important -occasions in life, but particularly on this of which I am speaking. -There is not a quality I more anxiously wish you to possess, than that -collected decisive spirit which rests on itself, which enables you to -see where your true happiness lies, and to pursue it with the most -determined resolution. In matters of business, follow the advice of -those who know them better than yourselves, and in whose integrity you -can confide; but in matters of taste, that depend on your own feelings, -consult no one friend whatever, but consult your own hearts. - -IF a gentleman makes his addresses to you, or gives you reason to -believe he will do so, before you allow your affections to be engaged, -endeavour in the most prudent and secret manner, to procure from your -friends every necessary piece of information concerning him; such as his -character for sense, his morals, his temper, fortune and family; whether -it is distinguished for parts and worth, or for folly, knavery, and -loathsome hereditary diseases. When your friends inform you of these, -they have fulfilled their duty. If they go further, they have not that -deference for you which a becoming dignity on your part would -effectually command. - -WHATEVER your views are in marrying, take every possible precaution to -prevent their being disappointed. If fortune, and the pleasures it -brings, are your aim, it is not sufficient that the settlements of a -jointure and children’s provisions be ample, and properly secured; it is -necessary that you should enjoy the fortune during your own life. The -principal security you can have for this will depend on your marrying a -good-natured generous man, who despises money, and who will let you live -where you can best enjoy that pleasure, that pomp and parade of life for -which you married him. - -FROM what I have said, you will easily see that I could never pretend to -advise whom you should marry; but I can with great confidence advise -whom you should not marry. - -AVOID a companion that may entail any hereditary disease on your -posterity, particularly (that most dreadful of all human calamities) -madness. It is the height of imprudence to run into such a danger, and -in my opinion, highly criminal. - -DO not marry a fool; he is the most intractable of all animals; he is -led by his passions and caprices, and is incapable of hearing the voice -of reason. It may probably too hurt your vanity to have husbands for -whom you have reason to blush and tremble every time they open their -lips in company. But the worst circumstance, that attends a fool, is his -constant jealousy of his wife being thought to govern him. This renders -it impossible to lead him, and he is continually doing absurd and -disagreeable things, for no other reason but to shew he dares do them. - -A RAKE is always a suspicious husband, because he has only known the -most worthless of your sex. He likewise entails the worst diseases on -his wife and children, if he has the misfortune to have any. - -IF you have a sense of religion yourselves, do not think of husbands who -have none. If they have tolerable understandings, they will be glad that -you have religion, for their own sakes, and for the sake of their -families; but it will sink you in their esteem. If they are weak men, -they will be continually teazing and shocking you about your -principles.—If you have children, you will suffer the most bitter -distress, in seeing all your endeavours to form their minds to virtue -and piety, all your endeavours to secure their present and eternal -happiness frustrated, and turned into ridicule. - -AS I look on your choice of a husband to be of the greatest consequence -to your happiness, I hope you will make it with the utmost -circumspection. Do not give way to a sudden sally of passion, and -dignify it with the name of love.—Genuine love is not founded in -caprice; it is founded in nature, on honourable views, on virtue, on -similarity of tastes and sympathy of souls. - -IF you have these sentiments, you will never marry any one, when you are -not in that situation, in point of fortune, which is necessary to the -happiness of either of you. What that competency may be, can only be -determined by your own tastes. It would be ungenerous in you to take -advantage of a lover’s attachment, to plunge him into distress; and if -he has any honour, no personal gratification will ever tempt him to -enter into any connection which will render you unhappy. If you have as -much between you as to satisfy all your reasonable demands, it is -sufficient. - -I SHALL conclude with endeavouring to remove a difficulty which must -naturally occur to any woman of reflection on the subject of marriage. -What is to become of all these refinements of delicacy, that dignity of -manners, which checked all familiarities, and suspended desire in -respectful and awful admiration? In answer to this, I shall only -observe, that if motives of interest or vanity have had any share in -your resolutions to marry, none of these chimerical notions will give -you any pain; nay they will very quickly appear as ridiculous in your -own eyes, as they probably always did in the eyes of your husbands. They -have been sentiments which have floated in your imaginations, but have -never reached your hearts. But if these sentiments have been truly -genuine, and if you have had the singular happy fate to attach those who -understand them, you have no reason to be afraid. - -MARRIAGE indeed, will at once dispel the enchantment raised by external -beauty; but the virtues and graces that first warmed the heart, that -reserve and delicacy which always left the lover something further to -wish, and often made him doubtful of your sensibility or attachment, may -and ought ever to remain. The tumult of passion will necessarily -subside; but it will be succeeded by an endearment, that affects the -heart in a more equal, more sensible, and tender manner.—But I must -check myself, and not indulge in descriptions that may mislead you, and -that too sensibly awake the remembrance of my happier days, which, -perhaps, it were better for me to forget forever. - -I HAVE thus given you my opinion on some of the most important articles -of your future life, chiefly calculated for that period when you are -just entering the world. I have endeavoured to avoid some peculiarities -of opinion, which, from their contradiction to the general practice of -the world, I might reasonably have suspected were not so well founded. -But in writing to you, I am afraid my heart has been too full, and too -warmly interested, to allow me to keep this resolution. This may have -produced some embarrassment, and some seeming contradictions. What I -have written has been the amusement of some solitary hours, and has -served to divert some melancholy reflections.—I am conscious I undertook -a task to which I was very unequal; but I have discharged a part of my -duty.—You will at least be pleased with it, as the last mark of your -father’s love and attention. - - - THE END. - - -[Illustration] - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - page - - Modesty, 7 - - Lying, 12 - - Good-Breeding, 15 - - Genteel Carriage, 21 - - Cleanliness of person, 25 - - Dress, 26 - - Elegance of Expression, 28 - - Address Phraseology, and 33 - small-talk, - - Observation, 35 - - Absence of Mind, 37 - - Knowledge of the World, 39 - - Choice of Company, 51 - - Laughter, 55 - - Sundry Little 57 - Accomplishments, - - Employment of Time, 71 - - Dignity of Manners, 74 - - Rules for Conversation, 79 - - - A Father’s address to his 93 - Daughters, - - Religion, 96 - - Conduct and Behaviour, 102 - - Amusements, 110 - - Friendship, Love, 116 - Marriage, - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Principles of politeness, and of -knowing the world, by Philip Dormer Stanhope (Earl of Chesterfield) - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCIPLES OF POLITENESS *** - -***** This file should be named 60071-0.txt or 60071-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/7/60071/ - -Produced by Turgut Dincer, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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