1858
C33g
It
1774
37.
මහ වලිය මලකැමටශ්‍රීලා
==
මට මග-
REV. JOSEPH DEGEN ,
St. Saviour's,
GOALVILLE,
,
Leicestershire.
මධ්‍යස්ලට මලට ග
බලලා ලලල ලලල ලලල ලලට ලගා ගල
po rophy wsparunungan
in
G Α Ι Α Τ Ε Ο:
Ο Ρ.
A TRE A TI SE
Ο Ν
Ρ Ο Ι Τ Ε Ν Ε SS
Α Ν ΤΟ
DELICACY OF MANNERS.
ADDRESSED To A YOUNG NOBLEMAN.
FROM THE ITALINN OF
Monsig. GIOVANNI DE LA CASA,
ARCHBISHOP OF BEN E V EN TO.
De nugis opinetur quis me nimları verborum facere : fed
in hoc genere ougaruti tirpiter peccatur.
ΑΣΕΙΣ, Ρτοεε η.
Ι Ο Ν Ο Ο Ν
Printed for J. Dodater, in Pall-Mall.
M.DCC.LXXIV,
و033
وو
به 172
WILLIAM SKRINE,
ES QUIRE;
MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT
for CALLINGTON.
I
:
SIR,
Beg leave to infcribe the fol-
lowing performance to your
name: for to whom can I, with
ſo much propriety, addreſs, ei-
ther a Treatiſe on Politeneſs, or
a Tranſlation from the Italian
language, as to a Gentleman, who
is ſo perfect a maſter of the one,
a 2
and
iv DEDICATION.
:
and ſo complete a model of the
other?
Yet, Sir, though I am con-
vinced your patronage would
give no ſmall importance to my
work, I do not expect you to be
anſwerable for the defects, either
of the Tranſlation or of the Ori-
ginal : but was willing to take
this opportunity of thus pub-
licly acknowledging my obliga-
tions to you, and of ſubſcrib-
ing myſelf,
with great Eſteem,
SIR,
Your obliged,
humble ſervant,
The TRANSLATOR.
PREFACE .
T
HE following Treatiſe is
one of thoſe which, for its
utility in regulating the manners of
youth, the critics have pronounced
" to be worth its weight in gold.”
It is ſuppoſed * to be addreſſed to
The original ſays, in the character,
« d'un vecchio ideata," an imaginary old
man inſtructing his pupil : but, from feve-
ral circumſtances, he ſeems to have had
fome particular young Nobleman in
view.
I
a young
vi
PRE FACE.
was
a young Nobleman, and
written by the elegant Giovanni
de la Caſa, Archbiſhop of Bene-
vento, in the fixteenth century,
about the beginning of our Queen
Elizabeth's reign; and ſhews to
what a degree of refinement, both
in manners and in literature, the
Italians were arrived, at a period
when we were juſt emerging from
Gothiciſm and barbarity.
It was ſoon tranſlated into Latin
by Chytræus, Profeſior of Poetry
at Roſtock; and into French, to
wards the end of the laſt century,
by Monſieur Duhamel. But though
the writers upon the art of Pleaſing
in
PRE FACE.
vii
in Converſation, may have borrowed
from it, I do not find that it was
ever tranſlated into Engliſh; and
the Original being become ſcarce,
beſides the uſe it may be of to
young people, it may be recom-
mended to the public as a literary
curioſity *
Mr. Sterne + ſeems to ſpeak of
it as a romance, and calls it Gala-
tea; an evident proof that he had
not read it at leaſt, if he had ever
feen it. The Author gives it the
:
The Tranſlator could meet with it in
only one public library at Oxford,--the
elegant Codrington collection at All Souls
College.
+ Trift. Shandy.
title
P R E F A CE.
title of Galateo, in compliment to
an old Courtier of that name, dif-
tinguiſhed by his wit, learning, and
politeneſs, in the palace of John
Matthew Gilberto, Biſhop of Ve-
rona; at whoſe requeſt, and by
whoſe encouragement (the Author
tells us) he undertook this work.
De la Caſa bimſelf was a Floren-
tine, and was made Archbiſhop of
Benevento by Pope Paul III, who
would alſo have raiſed him to
the purple; but that he was accuſed
of being « furicuſement debauché;":
furiouſly debauched, ſays a French
writer. This, however, was juſtly
conſidered by others, as a mere ca-
lumny :
:
PRE FACE.
ix
3
lumny: and it is not at all pro-
bable, that Paul III. (a man of
a very reſpectable character) or his
fucceffor, Marcellus II. or Paul IV.
would have employed a man, no-
torious for his debaucheries, in ſo
many important negotiations: nei-
ther is it at all conſiſtent with the
account which is given of De la
Caſa's retiring to Rome, and ſpend-
ing a conſiderable part of his life
in tranquillity and folitude ; highly
eſteemed by the learned, and find-
ing no pleaſure but in his books.
It may be ſaid, perhaps, that
many of the precepts here deliver-
ed, (eſpecially in the former part
of
b
the
:
X
PREFACE.
the Treatiſe) are ridiculous and
caution againſt indelicacies, which
no one of any education can, in
this age, be guilty of.
To this I anſwer, that if, by ri.
diculous, be meant contemptible, I
own, I cannot think any thing con-
temptible, that tends to make us
more agreeable to each other in
fociety
But if by ridiculous be meant
laughable; this, indeed, I muſt
acknowledge; as the Author feems
to have placed theſe foibles in as
ſtrong and humorous a light as pof-
fible, in hopes of laughing people
out of them. And I defy any man
to
PRE FACE. xi
As to the ſecond part of the ob.
to read many of his reflections with
a ſerious countenance: not to men-
tion the merit, which thoſe little fa-
tirical ſtrokes have (like the charac-
ters of Theophraſtus) in giving us
a curious picture of the affectations
and fopperies of the age, in which
they were written. For which rea-
fon, alſo, I have imitated, in ſome
places, what, perhaps, may be
thought a grolneſs of expreſiion in
the original, and retained alluſions
to cuſtoms now obſolete
jection, “ that no one of any
edu.
As the manner of wearing their beards,
their waſhing before dinner, &c.
b 2
cation
X11
PRE FACE.
cation can now be guilty of ſuch ab-
furd practices as are here ſometimes
hinted at :" it muſt be owned, in-
deed, that in this age, the theory of
Politeneſs is ſufficiently underſtood;
and that in ſome reſpects, perhaps,
we are rather in danger of too much
refinement, than of the contrary ex-
treme, of indelicacy and rufticity
of manners, in our intercourſe with
cach other.
*
Yet it may be queſtioned, whe-
ther, in other inſtances, fome cau-
tions, on this head, may not, from
time to time, become neceffary, to
prevent us from relapſing again in-
to unpoliteneſs and indelicacy.
I re-
PRE FACE.
xili
I remember a country gentleman,
not long ſince, who could write
himſelf Armigero, (as Juſtice Shal-
low fays) that at a public ordinary,
borrowed a tooth-pick of a ſtran-
ger, who fat next him; and having
made uſe of it, wiped it clean, and
(without the leaſt ſenſe of any thing
indelicate in the affair) thankfully
returned it to the owner.
I lately ſaw a merchant, worth
forty thouſand pounds, pull out his
waſte papers in company, ſelect a
piece of the ſofteſt and moſt pliable,
and put it into a particular pocket
for immediate uſe.
b 3
I allo
xiy
PRE FACE.
I alſo heard the Mayor of a re-
ſpectable borough, bem and expec-
torate in ſo vociferous a manner, as
not only to ſtartle the company,
but to alarm the whole neighbour-
hood, and then compoſe himſelf in
bis elbow-chair, with the utmoſt
complacency and ſatisfaction, as fe-
licitating himſelf upon his having
been able to perform his animal
functions with ſo much vigour and
elaſticity.
Even that amiable ſex, which,
time out of mind, has furniſhed
Poets and Painters with the ideas
of whatever is moſt beautiful
and enchanting; with the emblemis
of
PRE FACE.
XY
a
of every virtue and every grace ;
even theſe divine and angelic beings
are in continual danger, from the
contagious intercourſe with a world
of mere mortals, of contracting
habits entirely oppoſite to their na-
tural delicacy.
Belinda, after dinner, rummages
the moſt remote cavities of her
mouth and gums, with the corner
of her napkin, and ſquirts out the
foiled ablution into the water-glaſs,
with ſo bold and oftentatious an
air, as if the conſidered it as an
excellence, and an infallible inark
of her familiarity with the bon ton
of faſhionable life.
b 4
Clelia
xvi
PRE FACE.
Clelia ſpits in her handkerchief
with fo little ſenſe of indelicacy, that,
inſtead of any endeavours to con-
ceal it, ſhe diſplays it with an am-
bitious air before the company :
and, learned as ſhe is, ſeems never
to have heard of the ancient Per.
fians, who thought it indecent either
to fpit at all, to blow their noſe, or
diſcover any other fymptom of ſu-
perfluous moiſture in their habit of
body.
Theſe are little indelicacies,
which only convince us, that the
fair creatures who are guilty of
them, are not entirely exempted
from the frailties of humanity.
But
PRE FACE.
xvii
But there are many habits which
people contract in their youth, and
which, trifling as they may appear,
often lead them into conſiderable
inconveniencies. They are, per
haps, of ſuch a nature, as their
parents or preceptors are too indo.
lent to correct, or too tender to
thock them with : or, perhaps, may
think them too triðing to be made
the object of admonition, and ſuch
as ſtrangers, for the like reaſons,
will feldom take the trouble to in-
form them of; and ſo they conti-
nue through life, theſe oddities,
which make them ridiculous, at
leaſt, if not offenſive to fociety.
I knew
xviii
PRE FACE.
I knew a very ingenious phyſi-
cian, and a very worthy man, who
was difiniffed from his attendance
on a noble family, for no other
reaſon, than for an habit he had got
of ſpitting upon the carpet * :
thoſe worthy perſons chuſing ra-
ther to be guilty of an act of in-
juſtice, than ſhock a gentleman of
a liberal education, by informing
him of a diſagreeable practice,
which he could ſo eaſily have re-
formed, and which, by the peruſal
w
By the way, unleſs carpets were to be
changed as frequently as a table-cloth, this
cuſtom of ſpitting on them ſeems by no
means decent or commendable.
4
of
PREF A CE. xix
the utility of ſuch a treatiſe, at this
of ſo minute a detail, as De la Caſa
has given of indelicate cuſtoms,
he might probably have entirely
avoided.
But let any one, that objects to
time of day, carefully ſcrutinize his
own habits and propenſities. Has
he no oddity or affectation, which
he ought to correct, either in his
manners, his geſtures; in his tem-
per or behaviour ; either amongſt
his acquaintance or in his own fa-
mily? Does he in no particular in-
dulge his own cafe at the expence
of his company? Does he never
pick his noſe or his ear ; or cough,
or
XX
PREFACE.
as
to
or ſpit, or ſneeze, fo
make
** The loud dome re-echo to his noſe ?"
YOUNG.
Or, what is of more conſequence,
does he never incommode his ac-
quaintance, or thoſe with whom he
has connections, by his want of
punctuality? or render his whole
family miſerable, by making them
dependant on his humour or caprice;
arbitrarily or wantonly breaking in
upon the hours of Neep or refreſh-
ment, and interrupting that regu-
lar economy which is eſſential to
domeſtic happineſs ? All theſe are
ſuch
3
P R E F A C E.
xxi
ſuch little offences againſt fociety,
as this Treatiſe of the good Arch-
biſhop was intended to reform.
In ſhort, when a young fellow,
juſt releaſed from the diſcipline of
a public ſchool, comes into a cof-
fee-houſe, and with a look of defi-
ance ſpreads himſelf before the
chimney, and
Gropes his breeches with a
narch's air,"
or whiſtles, ſwears, or talks ob-
ſeurely, to the great annoyance of
the ſober politician: or, when the
ſaid ſober politician detains the
paper
deſtined to common uſe, until
he
2
xxii
P R E F A CE.
he has conned over, and laid up in
his memory, every anecdote and
bon-mot, to ſhew off at his evening-
club in Ivy-Lane: when many of
theſe triling offences againſt the
public ſtill ſubfift, notwithſtand-
ing the politeneſs of the age, I
cannot think an hint from De la
Cafa by any means unſeafonable *.
I could wiſh then, for their own
fakes, as well as for mine and the
bookſeller's, not only that every lad
at the upper end of a ſchool might
.
In Italy, at leaſt, his book is ſtill in ſo
much repute, that it is almoſt a proverbial
deſcription of an ill-bred fellow, to ſay,
that he has not read “ 11 Galateo."
3)
be
.
PREF A CE.
xxiii
be put upon reading this Trea-
tiſe; but that it might be thought
a proper ornament for the toilette
of every young gentleman and young
lady; and, whilſt they were for
three bours under the hands of Mon-
ſieur Friſeur, they would beſtow
three minutes upon peruſing a chap-
ter in this book of the Archbiſhop
of Benevento.
::
.
ON
:
܀
"?
ܕ ܝ . ܀܂
܆܆
܀
܀
܀
܀
:
Ο Ν
P O L I TE N E S S
N D
DELICACY OF MANNERS.
Addreſſed to a YounNobleman,
TRO
A
INTRODUCTION.
S you are now juſt entering upon
the journey of life, which I, as
you ſee, have already in a great meaſure
performed; I determined with myſelf,
from the fincere affection which I bear
you, to point out ſome few dangerous
parts of the road, where from my own
experience, I had moſt reaſon to appre-
B
hend
:
[ 2 ]
:
hend you might either fatally err; or at
leaſt, in ſome reſpect, deviate from the
right track: That, by the affiſtance of
my inſtructions, you might perſevere in
a right courſe, with ſafety to yourſelf and
with credit to your illuſtrious family.
But as you may be incapable, at ſo early
a period of life, to comprehend the force
of any more abſtruſe and more weighty
inſtructions; I ſhall reſerve every thing
of that kind to a more proper ſeaſon; and
confine myſelf at preſent to thoſe things,
which perhaps to ſome people may appear
trifling and frivolous; Namely, by what
kind of conduct, in his familiar intercourſe
with the reft of mankind, any one may
acquire the character of a well-bred, ami-
able, and polite man: Politeneſs being in
itſelf, if not really a virtue, yet ſo nearly
reſembling a virtue, as hardly to be diſtin-
guiſhed from it.
For tho' it is certainly more laudable,
and a thing of greater moment, to be ge-
nerous, conſtant, and magnanimous, than
merely
[ 3 ]
merely to be polite and well bred; yet we
find, from daily experience, that ſweet-
neſs of manners, a genteel carriage, and
polite addreſs, are frequently of more ad-
vantage to thoſe who are ſo happy as to
be poffefled of them, than any greatneſs
of ſoul or brightneſs of parts are to thoſe
who are adorned with thoſe more ſhining
talents. For thoſe flighter accompliſh-
ments are of more frequent, or rather of
conſtant and daily uſe on every occafion;
as we are under a neceſſity of converſing
daily with other people: Whereas juf-
tice, fortitude, and thoſe other more ex-
alted virtues, are of much leſs frequent oc-
currence.
For neither is a generous or
a brave man obliged to exhibit thoſe vir-
tues, every hour of the day (which indeed
would be impoflible,) neither has a wiſe
man, or a man of great genius, an oppor-
tunity of diſplaying thoſe extraordinary
talents, but very rarely. As much
therefore as thoſe greater qualities exceed
thoſe more trifing accompliſhments in
B 2
weight
[ 4 ]
weight and importance; ſo much the lat-
ter exceed the former in number and more
frequent uſe.
Now, if it were decent or proper, I could
mention by name many perſons within our
knowledge, who, tho' in other reſpects
men of no extraordinary merit, yet have
been greatly careſſed thro’ life, on no other
account than from an eaſy and agreeable
behaviour in their common intercourſe
with mankind: By the help of which,
however, they have raiſed themſelves to
the higheſt dignities ; leaving at a great
diſtance behind them thoſe who have in-
finitely excelled them in thoſe more no-
ble and more exalted virtues above men-
tioned. For as an amiable and ingenu-
ous behaviour has a great influence in
conciliating the favour of thoſe with
whom we converſe; fo, on the contrary,
a moroſe and diſguſting behaviour will
certainly excite their hatred and con-
tempt.
Wherefore, tho' a diſagreeable ruſticity
of
[5]
of manners be not puniſhable by the laws
of any community: (as being indeed but
a flight offence) yet, we fee, Nature her
felf chaſtifes our failure in this reſpect,
with fufficient aſperity; as, on this ac-
count, we are evidently deprived of the
company, and the favourable opinion of
mankind. And certainly, as other more
heinous crimes are attended with more
real detriment, ſo theſe flighter offences
bring with them a greater variety, or, at
leaſt, more frequent inconveniencies. For
in like manner, as men who confider wild
beaſts as obje&ts of terror, and diſdain to
Mhew any dread of ſuch minure animals,
as gnats or flies; yet, on account of the
continued trouble, which thoſe teazing
infeas occafion, are more frequently put
out of humour by them, than by thoſe
more bulky creatures: So it uſually hap-
pens, that the generality of mankind are
infinitely more diſtreſſed by thoſe ruſtie
and untractable mortals, than by men of
more notoriouſly flagitious characters. It
is
:
B 3
[ 6 ]
is not to be diſputed then, that every man,
who is not determined to ſpend his life in
folitude and the retreat of an hermitage,
but in the company and aſſemblies of the
polite, muſt think it of the utmoſt confe-
quence, to make himſelf amiable and
agreeable in converſation. Not to men-
tion, that thoſe other virtues, of generoſity
and munificence, require a ſplendid for-
tune; a table and equipage, to exhibit
them to advantage, (without which they
are of little or no importance:) Whereas
this elegance of manners, which depends
entirely on our words and actions, even
without the appendage of a good eſtate,
gives a man influence, and the appearance
of a gentleman.
Now, that you may the more ſucceſs-
fully diſcharge your duty in this reſpect,
you muſt obſerve, that you ought to re-
gulate your manner of behaviour towards
others, not according to your own hu-
mour, but agreeably to the pleaſure and in-
clination of thoſe with whom you converſe:
Το
[ 7 ]
To which it is entirely, yet under certain
reſtrictions, to be directed. For he, who
in the common intercourſe with his ac-
quaintance, conforms, with a boundleſs
obſequiouſneſs, to the will of others; ſuch
a one muſt be deemed a mere parafite, a
[caramouch, or a buffoon, rather than a
well-bred man or a gentlemanAs, on
the contrary, he who is quite careleſs and
indifferent, whether he pleaſes or dir-
pleaſes his company, is deſervedly ef-
teemed a rude, ill-bred, clowniſh fellow.
As therefore, when we conſult, not our
own pleaſures, but that of our friends,
our behaviour will be pleaſing and agree-
able; our firſt enquiry muſt be, what
thoſe particulars are, with which the
greateſt part of mankind are univerſally
delighted; and what thoſe are which, in
general, they deteſt, as troubleſome and
offenſive: For thus we ſhall eaſily diſco-
ver, what kind of conduct, in our inter-
courſe with others, is to be avoided, and
what to be adopted and purſued.
B 4
A general
B[
s
8 ]
A general View of the Subject.
IT
T is to be obſerved then, that what-
ever is offenſive or diſagreeable to any
one of our ſenſes, or contrary to our
* natural inftinels and deſires: And further,
whatever raiſes in our minds an idea of any
thing filthy or indecent; or what ſhocks
our underſtanding: I ſay, that every thing
and every action of this kind, as being
greatly diſpleaſing to others, is carefully
to be avoided. Nothing therefore, either
filthy or immodeſt, nauſeous or diſguft-
ing, ought not only to be done, but even
mentioned, in the preſence of others.
Nor is it only the acting or mentioning
any thing of this kind, that is generally
diſpleaſing; but even the repreſenting
them, by any motion or geſture, to the
imagination of another, is extremely of-
fenſive.
• Al l'appetito--this he afterwards explains.
SE C-
:
[9]
S E C T I O N I.
Examples of indelicacy, offenſive to the
OFESORT Senfes *.
TIRST then, the habit which ſome
people have got, of thruſting their
hands into their boſoms, or handling any
part of their perſons which is uſually co-
vered, is an obvious inſtance of indecency,
and very improper.
In like manner, it is very unbecoming
a well-bred man and a gentleman, to
make any ſort of preparation, in the pre-
ſence of others, for complying with the
neceffities of nature; and much more ſo,
to return to his company before he has
completely adjuſted every part of his
dreſs. Neither, if he would liſten to my
* The Author ſeems ſenſible, that ſome of theſe
inſtances are too minute: But, as part of his ſub-
jedt, they could not be omitted.
advice,
[ 10 ]
advice, ought any one to waſh his hands
before genteel company, on thoſe occa-
fions: Which very precaution of his, ſug-
geſts to the mind an idea of ſomething
uncleanly.
For the ſame reaſon, it is by no means
a decent cuſtom for any one, upon meet-
ing with any thing offenſive in the way,
(as it often happens) to turn immediately
to his companion, and point it out to his
notice: Much leſs ought he to hold up
any thing fætid to another, that he
may
ſmell to it; which ſome people are apt to
do; and areeven ſo impertinent as to thruſt
what is naſty up to their very noſes, and
ſmear them with it: “Pray ſmell it, I
beſeech you, how it ſtinks." Whereas
they ought rather to ſay, “ Pray, do not
ſmell it, for it is very
offenfive.'
To the Senſe of Hearing.
Now as theſe, and other impertinen-
cies of this kind, give offence to thoſe
ſenſes
( 11 )
.
Š
ſenſes of which they are the proper ob-
jects ; ſo there are others, with which the
ears are offended : Such, for inſtance, as
the grinding of the teeth together, when
preſſed ſo cloſe as to grate each other: As
alſo, by puffing and breathing too loudly;
by any noiſe ariſing from rubbing one
ſtone againſt another; by ſcraping any
thing with a knife or other inſtrument of
iron; and the like: Which every one
ſhould guard againſt, as much as is in his
power.
Neither will a well-bred man think this
one caution, in regard to the ſenſe of
hearing, ſufficient: But will alſo care-
fully abſtain from ſinging or humming a
tune in company; eſpecially if he has the
misfortune to have an unmuſical or a
rough voice; and none of his friends ſeem
diſpoſed to bear him company: Which
caution, however, is but little regarded.
So far from it, that we generally ſee thoſe
people moſt ready to entertain their
friends in this way, who are, by nature,
the leaſt qualified for the attempt.
There
2
[ 12 ]
.
There are another fort of people alſo,
who, in coughing or ſneezing, make ſo
horrible a noiſe, as to ftun the very ears
of others with the found. Nay, there
are ſome perſons ſo inconſiderate and ſo
indecent, as to ſputter in the very faces of
thoſe that fit near them, on theſe occa-
fions.
You will meet with others, likewife,
who, in gaping, eitherhowſ like a wolf; or
bray like an aſs: And who, with their jaws
thus diftended, and yawning ſo wide,
will yet attempt to ſpeak and to continue
their diſcourſe; uttering at the ſame
time, a voice, or rather a ſtrange found;
not unlike that of dumb people, when,
on ſome violence offered them, they at-
tempt to ſpeak. This kind of indecorum,
as highly offenſive both to our eyes and
ears, is carefully to be avoided.
To this it may be added (by the way)
that a well-bred man ought to check
this diſpoſition to gaping frequently ;
not only for the reaſons abovementioned,
4
but
[ 13 ]
but alſo becauſe this yawning propen-
fity ſeems to ariſe from a certain weari-
neſs and diſguſt: when the perſon, who
is thus diſpoſed to be gaping continually,
wants to be ſomewhere elſe, rather than
where he now is; and therefore appears
fick of the converſation and amuſements
of the preſent company *.
And certainly, let a man be ever fo
much inclined to gaping; yet if he is in-
tent upon any agreeable amuſement, or
engaged in any ſerious meditation, he
eaſily gets rid of this propenſity. But he
who is idle and diſengaged from all buſi-
neſs, this habit is extremely apt to creep
upon him. Hence it comes to paſs, that
if any one perſon happens to gape in a
* A. Gellius mentions a remarkable inſtance,
how much the Romans were offended with a man,
for gaping before the Cenſors; for which he
would have been ſeverely puniſhed, if he had not
declared upon oath, that he did it involuntarily,
and that it was a kind of a diſeaſe, under which he
laboured,
Book iv. I. 20.
company,
[ 14 ]
:.
a
company, who have nothing elſe to en-
gage their attention, all the reſt uſually
follow his example; as if he had put
them in mind of doing, what, if they had
thought of it, they otherwiſe intended to
have done * Now, as in the Latin and
other languages, a yawning fellow is ſy-
nonimous or equivalent to a negligent
and ſluggiſh fellow; this idle cuſtom ought
certainly to be avoided ; being (as was
obſerved) diſagreeable to the fight, offen-
ſive to the ear, and contrary alſo to that
natural claim, which every one has to re-
fpe&t. For when we indulge ourſelves in
this liſtleſs behaviour, we not only inti-
mate, that the company we are in, does
not greatly pleaſe us; but alſo make a
diſcovery, not very advantageous to our-
ſelves; I mean, that we are of a drowſy,
lethargic diſpoſition : which muſt render
I have ſeen a clergyman, in the fineſt and
moſt folemn part of our Liturgy;--thus ſet the ex-
ample to a whole congregation.
[ 15 ]
us by no means amiable or pleaſing, to
thoſe with whom we converſe.
§. It is moreover extremely indecent to
ſpit, cough, and expectorate (as it were)
in company, as ſome hearty fellows are
apt to do: and more ſo, when you have
blown your noſe, to draw afide and ex-
amine the contents of your handkerchief;
as if you expected pearls or rubies to diſtil
from your brain. Theſe kinds of habits, in
good company, are ſo very nauſeous and
diſguſting, that if we indulge ourſelves in
them, no one can be very fond of our
acquaintance. So far from it, that even
thoſe, who are inclined to wiſh us well,
muſt, by theſe and the like diſagreeable
cuſtoms, be entirely alienated from us.-
Thoſe ill-bred people, who expect their
acquaintance to love and careſs them,
with all their foibles, are as abſurd as a
poor ragged cinder-wench, who ſhould roll
about upon an heap of afhes, ſcrabbling
and throwing duſt in the face of every
one that paſſed by; and yet flatter her-
ſelf
[ 16 ]
ſelf, that ſhe ſhould allure fome youth to
her embraces, by theſe dirty endearments;
which would infallibly keep him at a dif-
tance.
It is alſo an inelegant cuſtom, for any
one to apply his noſe, by way of ſmelling,
to a glaſs of wine, which another per-
ſon is to drink; or to a plate of meat,
which another is to eat. Nay, I would
not adviſe any one to ſmell to any thing,
which he himſelf intends to eat or drink:
Since there is a poſſibility, at leaſt, that
his noſe may drop upon it; or the very
idea may offend the company, tho' by
good luck that accident may not then
befal him. Moreover, if you would
liſten to my advice, I would not have
you by any means offer the glaſs to ano-
ther, out of which you yourſelf have
drank; much leſs ſhould you give to
another a pear, or any other fruit, which
you
have bitten; unleſs it be to a perſon
with whom you live in a more than do-
meſtic intimacy. Nor let it be any ob-
jedion
[ 17 ]
2009
:
jection to your obſerving theſe rules, that
the inſtances which I have hitherto men-
tioned do not ſeem to be of much im-
portance; for flight wounds, frequently
repeated, will prove fatal, and kill a man
at laſt.
CO U N T RICHARD:
An Inſtance of delicate Reproof.
$ There was, fome years ago, a Biſhop
of Verona, whoſe name was John Mat-
thew Gilberto ; a man deeply read in the
Holy Scriptures, and throughly verſed
in all kinds of polite literature. This
Prelate, amongſt many other laudable
qualities, was a man of great elegance
of manners, and of great generoſity;
and entertained thoſe many gentlemen
and people of faſhion, who frequented his
houſe, with the utmoſt hoſpitality, and
(without tranſgreſſing the bounds of mo-
deration) with ſuch a decent magnifi-
C
cence,
[ 18 ]
cence, as became a man of his facred
character.
It happened then, that a certain No-
bleman, whom they called * Count Ri-
chard, paſſing thro' Verona at that time,
ſpent ſeveral days with this Biſhop and
his family; in which every individual al-
moft was diſtinguiſhed by his learning
and politeneſs. To whom, as this illuf-
trious gueſt appeared particularly well-
bred, and every way agreeable, they were
full of his encomiums; and would have
eſteemed him a moſt accompliſhed per-
ſon, but that his behaviour was ſullied
with one trifling imperfection; which
the Prelate himſelf alſo, a man of great
penetration, having obſerved, he com-
municated the affair, and canvaſſed it
over with ſome of thoſe with whom he
was moſt intimate. Who, tho' they were
unwilling to offend, on ſo trifling an oc-
* It might be worth enquiring (as matter of cu-
rioſity) whether this were not fome Engliſh Earl,
on his travels at that time.
cafion,
I 19 )
..
calion, a gueſt of ſuch conſequence, yet
at length agreed, that it was worth while
to give the Count an hint of it in a
friendly manner. When therefore the
Count, intending to depart the next day,
had, with a good grace, taken leave of the
family, the Biſhop fent for one of his
moſt intimate friends, a man of great
prudence and diſcretion, and gave him a
Itrict charge, that, when the Count was
now mounted, and going to enter upon
his journey, he ſhould wait on him part
of the way, as a mark of reſpect, and, as
they rode along, when he ſaw a conveni-
ent opportunity, he ſhould fignify to
the Count, in as gentle and friendly a
manner as poſſible, that which had bc-
fore been agreed upon amongſt them-
ſelves.
Now this domeſtic of the Biſhop's
was a man of advanced age; of fingular
learning, uncommon politeneſs, and dif-
tinguiſhed eloquence; and alſo of a ſweet
and infinuating addreſs: who had himſelf
C 2
ſpent
[ 20 ]
ſpent a great part of his life in the courts
of great Princes; and was called, and
perhaps is at this time called Galateo;
at whoſe requeſt, and by whoſe encou-
ragement, I firſt engaged in writing this
treatiſe.
This Gentleman, then, as he rode by
the ſide of the Count, on his departure,
infenfibly engaged him in a very agreea-
ble converſation on various fubje&s.
After chatting together very pleaſantly,
upon one thing after another; and it ap-
pearing now time for him to return to
Verona; the Count began to infiſt upon
his going back to his friends, and for
that purpoſe he himſelf waited on him
ſome little part of the way.-There, at
length, Galateo with an open and free
air, and in the moſt obliging expreſſions,
thus addreſſed the Count:“My Lord, ſays
he, the Biſhop of Verona, my maſter, re-
turns you many thanks for the honour
which you have done him: particularly,
that you did not diſdain to take up your
reſidence
[ 21 ]
:
reſidence with him, and to make ſome
little ſtay within the narrow confines of
his humble habitation.
“Moreover, as he is throughly ſenſible
of the fingular favour you have conferred
upon him on this occafion; he has en-
joined me, in return, to make you a ten-
der of ſome favour on his part; and begs
you, in a more particular manner, to ac-
cept chearfully, and in good part, his in-
tended kindneſs.
“Now, my Lord, the favour is this.
The Biſhop, my maſter, efteems your
Lordſhip as a perſon truly noble; ſo
graceful in all your deportment, and ſo
polite in your behaviour, that he hardly
ever met with your equal in this reſpect;
on which account, as he ſtudied your
Lordſhip's character with a more than or-
dinary attention, and minutely ſcruti-
nized every part of it, he could not dir-
cover a ſingle article, which he did not
judge to be extremely agreeable, and de-
ſerving of the higheſt encomiums. Nay, he
would
C3
[ 22 ]
would have thought your Lordſhip com-
plete in every reſpect, without a ſingle
exception; but that in one particular ac-
tion of yours, there appeared ſome little
imperfection which is, that when you
are eating at table, the motion of your
lips and mouth cauſes an uncommon
ſmacking kind of a found, which is ra-
ther offenſive to thoſe who have the ho-
nour to fit at table with you. This is
what the good Prelate wiſhed to have
your Lordſhip acquainted with: and in-
treats you, if it is in your power, care-
fully to correct this ungraceful habit for
the future: and that your Lordſhip
would favourably accept this friendly ad-
monition, as a particular mark of kind-
neſs; for the Biſhop is throughly convin-
ced, that there is not a man in the whole
world, beſides himſelf, who would have
beſtowed on your Lordſhip a favour of
this kind."
The Count, who had never before
been made acquainted with this foible of
his,
[ 23 ]
his, on hearing himſelf thus taxed, as it
were, with a thing of this kind *, bluſhed
a little at firſt : but, foon recollecting
himſelf, like a man of ſenſe, thus anſwer-
ed : “Pray, Sir, do me the favour to re-
turn my compliments to the Biſhop; and
tell his Lordſhip, that if the preſents,
which people generally make to each
other, were all of them ſuch as his Lord-
ſhip has made me, they would really be
much richer than they now are. Howe-
yer, Sir, I cannot but eſteem myſelf greatly
obliged to the Biſhop for this polite in-
ſtance of his kindneſs and friendſhip for
me; and you may affure his Lordſhip, I
will moſt undoubtedly uſe my utmoſt en-
deavours to correct this failing of mine
for the future. In the mean time, Sir, I
* It may be queſtioned, whether the freedom of
an Engliſh Univerſity, where a man would be told
of his foibles with an honeſt laugh, and a thump
on the back, would not have ſhocked Count Ri.
chard leſs than this ceremonious management of
the affair.
C4
take
[ 24 ]
:
take my leave of you, and with you a
ſafe and pleaſant ride home."
What now can we ſuppoſe this worthy
Prelate and his noble family, (who were
ſo much diſguſted with Count Richard
for fo trifling a foible) would ſay to thoſe
people, whom we ſometimes ſee thruſting,
like hogs, their very fnouts into their
ſoup; fo as not once to lift up their eyes
from their plates ; much leſs to take off
their hands, from what is ſet before them!
Who, with their cheeks inflated as if
they were founding a trumpet, or puffing
up the fire, do not ſo properly eat, as de-
vour their food : Whom you often fee
with their hands fineared up to their very
elbows; and their napkins greaſed in fuch
a manner, that a diſhclout is a more
cleanly thing. And yet with theſe nap-
kins they are not aſhamed to wipe off the
ſweat, (which, from their hurry
and ea-
gerneſs in devouring their food, generally
flows plentifully down their faces) or even
to wipe their noſes upon them, as often as
Sthsy have an inclination.
Now
[ 25 ]
Now really, people that can be guilty
of ſuch filthy behaviour, are not only un-
worthy to be entertained in the moſt ele-
gant manner by the noble Prelate above-
mentioned; but deſerve to be entirely ba-
niſhed from the aſſemblies of the polite.
Which offenſive manners, therefore, ([
mean of ſmearing the table cloth, or
crumbling his bread upon it, and the like)
a well-bred man will carefully avoid.
Neither ought you to offer your napkin,
much leſs your handkerchief, to any one
that fits near you, as if it were quite
clean ; which the perſon you offer it to,
cannot be ſure of: nor ſhould you, if you
have occafion to talk to him, put your
mouth ſo near, as to breathe in his face:
for few people can bear the breath of
another, tho' ever ſo ſweet. Moſt of
"the habits and cuſtoms above-mention-
ed, are diſagreeable to thoſe with whom
we converſe, as being offenſive to ſome
one of the ſenſes, and therefore we ſhould
guard againſt them, as much as poſſible,
N. B.
VVVV.
[ 26 ]
N. B. Some few directions to the gen-
teeler ſort of Domeftics, who
attended in the palaces of Car-
dinals, Prelates and Princes,
are here omitted : ſuch as
ſpitting, coughing, or ſneezing,
when they wait at table,–or, if
employed to take a piece of toaſt-
ed bread or roaſted apple from
the fire, not to blow off the
aſhes with their mouths, &c.-
as “ there is ſeldom wind with-
out rain," ſays the proverb.
SECTION
II.
,
$. 1. ET us
inſtances of behaviour, which,
tho' not offenſive to any one of the ſenſes,
yet are contrary to the natural deſires and
expectations of the generality of mankind.
For,
[ 27 ]
For, we muſt obſerve, there are many and
various particulars, which, by a kind of
natural inſtinct, every one judges to be
right, and expects to meet with, from
thoſe with whom he converſes. Such as
mutual benevolence and reſpect; a defire
of pleaſing and obliging each other; and
the like.
Nothing therefore ought to be ſaid or
done, which may by any means diſcover,
that thoſe, whoſe company we are in,
are not much beloved, or, at leaſt, much
eſteemed by us.
It fhould feem, therefore, not a very
decent cuſtom, (which yet is practiſed by
ſome people) who affect to be drowſy
and even fall aſleep, (on purpoſe as it
were) where a genteel company is met
together for their mutual entertainment.
For, certainly, thoſe that behave in this
manner, declare in effect, that they do
not much eſteem thoſe who are preſent,
or pay any regard to their converſation;
not to mention, that ſomething may hap-
pen
( 28 )
::.
..
no very
:
pen in their ſleep, (eſpecially if they are
any ways indiſpoſed) that may be difa-
greeable either to the eyes or the ears of
the company: for one often fees, in fuch
fleepy folks, the ſweat run down their
faces, or the faliva down their beards, in
decent manner.
For the ſame reaſon, it is rather a trou-
bleſome practice, for any one to riſe up,
in an affembly thus converting together,
and to walk about the room.
You meet with ſome people, likewiſe,
who are continually wriggling and twiſt-
ing themſelves about ; ftretching and
gaping, and turning themſelves, fome-
times on one ſide, ſometimes on another,
as if they were ſeized with a ſudden fever;
which is a certain indication that they
are tired and diſguſted with their preſent
company.
In like manner, they act very impro-
perly, who pull out of their pockets,
firſt one letter, then another; and read
them before the company.
And
[ 29 ]
And much worſe does he behave, who,
taking out his ſciſſars or his penknife, fets
himſelf, with great compoſure, to cut and
poliſh his nails; as if he had an utter
contempt for thoſe that are preſent; and
therefore, to deceive the time, was en-
deavouring to amuſe himſelf in fome
other manner.
We ought alſo carefully to abſtain
from thoſe little ways, which are much
in uſe, of humming a tune to our-
ſelves, or imitating the beating of a drum
with our fingers upon the table, or kick-
ing out our feet alternately in an inſolent
manner; for theſe are all indications of
our contempt for others.
Moreover, it is by no means decent to
fit in ſuch a manner, as either to turn
our backs upon any part of the company;
or to lift up our legs ſo as to diſcover, to
the eyes of others, thoſe parts of the body
hich are uſually concealed : for we
never act thus, but in the preſence of
thoſe,
:
[ 30 ]
thoſe, for whoſe good opinion we have
not the leaſt regard.
It muſt be confeſſed, however, that
when any perſon of rank vouchſafes to
do any thing of this kind, before a do-
meſtic, or an humble friend *, it ought
not to be conſidered as the effect of pride,
but of love and friendſhip for the perfon,
before whom he takes this liberty.
Every man ought likewiſe to ſtand
with his body erect, and not loll or lean
Martial thus fneers an haughty fellow, who
profeffed himſelf his friend:
Nil aliud video quo te credamus amicum,
Quam quòd me coram pedere, Criſpe, foles.
IMITATED.
Whither do all theſe vaſt profeſions tend ?--
Why, yes ; you take the freedoms of a friend.
OR,
You call yourſelf my friend-Why faith!
that's kind;
But ah! I fear, Sir, all your words are wind.
6
upon ,
[ 31 ]
upon another perſon, by way of fupport
or leaning-ſtock, as we fay.
When you are talking to any one,
don't be continually punching him in the
fide, as fome people are; who, after
every fentence, keep aſking the perſon
they are converſing with; “Did not I teil
you fo?” “What do you think of the
matter?” “What ſay you, Sir?” And, in
the mean time, they are every moment
jogging and thruſting him with their el-
bow; which cannot be conſidered as a
mark of reſpect.
Dreſs.
$ When you go into public, let your
dreſs be genteel, and ſuitable to your age
and ſtation of life. He that does other-
wiſe, thews a contempt of the world,
and too great an opinion of his own im-
portance. On this account, the citizens
of Padua were always greatly offended,
and thought themſelves inſulted, if a no-
blo
ܙܨ
[ 32 ]
ble Venetian appeared in their ſtreets,
not in his full dreſs gown, but in a ſhort
coat; as if he fancied himſelf taking a
walk at his eaſe, in ſome country village.
* Let your cloaths not only be made of
good broad cloth; but lay it down as a
conſtant rule, in adorning your perſon, to
conform to the cuſtom of the country you
live in; and alſo to the faſhion of the
preſent times: tho' the dreſs, which we
now uſe, may perhaps be leſs convenient
and leſs ſuited to the human body, than
that of the antients either really was, or
as learned men fancy it was.
In like manner, if the whole town
wear their hair cut ſhort, I would not
have you oftentatiouſly diſplay your fine
locks at full length; or, if the reſt of
your countrymen wear beards, I would
not have you alone appear without one:
for this would be to make yourſelf fin-
gular, and contrary to other people.
Whereas, in our common intercourſe
with mankind, we ought by no means
(without
[ 33 ]
::
(without ſome neceflity, which ſhall
hereafter be explained) to run counter to
the common cuſtoms of the world ; for
this, beyond any other offence we can be
guilty of, will render us odious to man.
kind. There is no reaſon in the world,
then, why, in things of this kind, you
Thould oppoſe the opinion of the public,
to which you ought always, in a moderate
way, to conform ; left you ſhould be left
to enjoy your own faſhion alone; with
your coat hanging down to your ancles,
whilſt every one elſe wears it tucked up
to his waiſt. For as a man that has any
thing monſtrous in his face; a noſe full
of carbuncles ſuppoſe, or in any other re-
ſpect abhorrent from the uſual figure of the
human countenance; as ſuch a one, I ſay,
draws the eyes of every one with aſtoniſh-
ment upon him: thus the very fame
thing befals thoſe, who have any thing
fingular or unuſual in their dreſs; and
who, inſtead of conforming to the taſte
D
of
[ 34 ]
of others, indulge their own particular
fancy. Some of theſe you will fee ſtrutting
about with their hair hanging down to a
great length, and their beard cut ſhort, or
perhaps cloſely fhaved to the very quick:
others with their hair collected under a
net, or perhaps with monſtrous great hats
upon
their heads, after the manner of the
Swiſs. Hence it comes to paſs, that
every one who paſſes by them, looks back
upon
them with aſtoniſhment: or, per-
haps the mob gathers round them in a cir
cle, to ſurvey, as it were, thoſe who come
in triumph over the manners and cuſtoms
of the country where they live.
Let your cloaths be well made, and
fitted to your perſon; and put on with
taſte and elegance; for thoſe, who wear
a ſplendid and expenſive ſuit, but either
awkwardly made, or not well fitted to
their perſons, diſcover one of theſe two
things; either that they deſpiſe the world,
and care not whether they pleaſe or dir-
pleaſe
[ 35 ]
pleaſe mankind; or that they are entirely
ignorant of what is elegant or genteel*.
This kind of affectation betrays a contempt
of thoſe amongſt whom we live, and in
Teturn, makes us contemptible, or, at leaſt,
leſs agreeable than we might otherwiſe
appear.
But there are people, who proceed
still further in this reſpect; and not only
raiſe in others a ſuſpicion that they have
little regard for them; but are really fo
untractable in their behaviour, that there
is no poflibility of converſing with them
upon any tolerable terms; for they always
run counter to the reſt of the company,
or make them wait; and never ceaſe to
incommode and be troubleſome to them;
never vouchſafing to explain their in-
tentions, or what they would be at.
Thus, for inſtance, when every one elſe
* A third ſuſpicion might ariſe in this age; that
we bought our cloaths in Monmouth-ſtreet.--The
vulgar joke (upon a man in a coat too long for
him) is not a bad one ;_" Pray Sir, was not your
grandfather a very tall man ?"
is
D 2
[ 36 ]
:
is ready to ſit down to dinner, and the
table is covered, and every one is waſhed;
then they, forſooth, as if they were going
to write ſomething, will call for a pen
and ink; (or perhaps for a chamber pot
to make water): or will complain, that
they have not yet taken their morning's
walk; and pretend, that it is yet time
enough to go to dinner; that the com
pany muſt wait a little: and wonder what
the deuce they are in ſuch a hurry for to-
day! And thus they put every one in
confufion : as if they alone were of any
conſequence, and nothing was to be re-
garded but their pleaſure and conveni-
ence.
This ſort of people expect alſo to have
the preference upon every other occaſion,
Wherever they go, they will be ſure to
make choice of the beft bed-chambers and
the ſofteſt beds: they will fit down in
the principal and moſt convenient place
at table; in ſhort, they expect all man-
kind to be ſolicitous to oblige them, as
if
[ 37 )
if they alone were to be honoured and rem
ſpected; yet nothing pleaſes them, but
what they themſelves have contrived or
executed: they ridicule others; and at
every kind of diverſion, whether in the
field or in the drawing-room, a conſtant
deference is to be paid to them by the reſt
of the world.
$ There is another ſet of people, ſo
very teſty, crabbed, and moroſe, that no
one can ever do any thing to their ſatisfac-
tion: and who, whatever is ſaid to them,
anſwer with a frowning aſpect: neither is
there any end of their chiding and re-
proaching their fervants. And thus, they
diſturb a whole company with continual
exclamations of this kind: “So! how early
you called me up this morning !” “ Pray
look; how cleverly you have japanned
theſe ſhoes !” “How well you attended
me to church to-day!” “You raſcal! I
have a good mind to give you my fift in
your chops; I have, fir:"--This kind of
expoftulations are extremely odious and
diſagreeable;
D3
( 38 )
diſagreeable; and ſuch people ought to
be avoided, as one would fly from the
plague. For tho' a man may be really,
and in his heart, modeſt and humble ;
and may have contracted this ſort of be-
haviour, not ſo much from a bad diſpo-
fition, as from negligence and bad habit;
nevertheleſs, as he betrays evident marks
of pride in his external appearance, he can-
not but make himſelf extremely odious to
mankind: for pride is nothing leſs than
a contempt of other people : whereas
the moſt infignificant perſon in the world
fancies himſelf a man of conſequence ;
and, as I obſerved in the beginning of this
ſection, of courſe entitled to reſpect.
There was at Rome, not many years
fince, a moft excellent perſon, * Ubal-
dino Bandinelli, a man of a moſt penetrat-
ing genius, and of fingular learning. It
was an uſual ſaying of his, “ That in all
that multitude of people, whom he met
in the crowded ſtreets, as he went to the
• A noble Florentine ; Biſhop of Monte Fiaſcone,
Pope's
4
[ 39 T
Pope's palace, or returned from thence,
there was not one of them, not only
amongſt the Noblemen, Courtiers, Pre-
lates or Grandees, but even amongſt the
middling or lower ſort of people, who did
not think himſelf, in his own mind, of as
much conſequence, as he himſelf was."
And certainly, if we could truly eſtimate
the fingular virtue of that excellent per-
fon, there were few men who could re-
ally be compared to him in dignity and
worth. But indeed, in things of this
kind, we ſhould not make uſe of ſo exact
a ſtandard ; nor weigh men by grains or.
fcruples, as one may ſay: for in our be-
haviour to others, we ſhould conſider not:
ſo much what their real merit is, but (as
in rating of money) what imaginary va-
lue has been ſtamped upon them by cuf-
tom, and, the opinion of the vulgar.-
Nothing therefore ought to be done, in
the preſence of thoſe whom we are deſi.
rous to pleaſe, which may exhibit an:
appearance of ſuperiority, rather than an:
equality
D 4.
[40]
equality of condition. But every aétion
and every geſture ſhould be ſuch, as
may teſtify the greateſt reſpect and
eſteem for the perſons with whom we
are in company. For which reaſon, there
are ſome things, which, if done in their
proper ſeaſon, cannot be found fault
with; yet, in regard to the place and
the perſons preſent, may be extremely
reprehenfible. Such, for inſtance, are
angry expoftulations, and the ſcolding at
ſervants, as above mentioned: and much
more the chaſtiſing them with ſtripes be-
fore company; for this is exerciſing your
authority and juriſdiction, which you
ought not by any means to do, in the pre-
ſence of thoſe whom you reverence and
reſpect. Not to mention, that ſuch a
one offends the whole company which is
preſent, and interrupts and ſpoils their
whole converſation; eſpecially if any
thing of this kind is done at table, a
place dedicated entirely to mirth and en-
joyment. I repeat it again, therefore,
that
[ 41 ]
that whatever happens, it is very indem
cent for a man to diſcover his anger at
table, and if he cannot entirely ſuppreſs
his rage, he ought, at leaſt, ſo far to check
it, as not to give any uneaſineſs to the
company; and more particularly ought
you to guard againſt it, if you happen to
have brought ſtrangers to dine with you;
becauſe you are ſuppoſed to have invited
them to a ſcene of pleaſure, and therefore
ought by no means to make them mife-
rable.--For, as four fruit, eaten by other
people, ſets our teeth on edge; fo to ſee
them uneaſy muſt of courſe make us un-
happy.
RU
Of Refractory People.
$ Refractory perſons are thoſe, who,
like unruly horſes, run counter to the in-
clinations of other people on all occa-
fions; as the name itſelf partly implies,
And how likely this obſtinate behaviour
is to conciliate the affections and the
good
( 42 )
.
good' will of mankind, you may eaſily
judge; ſince it conſiſts in oppofing con-
tinually their pleaſures and amuſements;
which is acting more like enemies than
friends. Thoſe, therefore, who are defi-
rous of gaining the love of mankind, will
uſe their utmoſt endeavours to check this
propenſity: which, inſtead of their good.
will and favour, will moſt certainly pro-
cure their hatred and diſdain. Nay, we
ought, on the contrary, to take a pleaſure
in complying with the inclinations of
others, where we can do it without any
detriment to ourſelves; and alſo to ſuit our
converſation to their taſte and fancy, ra-
ther than to our own and this we ought
to make a conſtant rule.
Neither is it conſiſtent with politeneſs,
to treat any one with a ruſtic furlineſs,
or with the air of a ſtranger: but rather
with an agreeable and domeſtic familia
rity. For there is no other difference be.
tween an olive and a wild olive tree ; or
between a crab and an apple and other
fruits
( 43 )
fruits of this kind; but that fome are cala
tivated in gardens, and are a ſort of do-
meſtic fruits, whilft the others grow wild
in woods and fields. Now we ought to
eſteem him alone an agreeable and good-
natured man, who, in his daily inter-
courſe with others, behaves in ſuch a
manner as friends uſually behave to each
other. For as a perſon of that ruftic
character appears, wherever he comes,
like a mere ſtranger: fo, on the contrary,
a polite man, wherever he goes, ſeems as
eaſy as if he were amongſt his intimate
friends and acquaintance.
It ſeems defirable, therefore, that every
one ſhould accuftom himſelf to addreſs
others in a kind and affable manner; con-
verſe with them, anſwer them, and be-
have to every one as he would to a fellow
citizen, and one with whom he was inti-
mately acquainted. In which reſpect
many people are greatly defective; who
never vouchſafe to look pleaſed upon any
one; who ſeem glad of every opportu-
nity
[ 44 ]
nity to contradict whatever other people
affert; and, whatever act of kindneſs is
tendered them, they reject it with rude-
neſs; like foreigners or barbarians, who
are ſuſpicious of every civility that is
Thewn them: who never diſcover the
leaſt degree of chearfulneſs, by any
ſprightly or even friendly converſation;
and, whatever overture of reſpect is
fewn them, they receive it with diſdain.
Mr. Such-a-one defired me to make his
compliments to you."- What the Devil
have I to do with his compliments'
Mr. enquired after you lately, and
aſked how you did:"Let him come and
feel my pulſe, if he wants to know.'-
Now, men of this moroſe ſtamp are, de-
ſervedly, but little loved or eſteemed by
others.
Melancholy, or Abfent People.
$ It is alſo very unpolite to appear me-
lancholy and thoughtful; and, as it were,
abſent
2
[45]
abſent from the company where you are,
and wrapt up in your own reflections.
And, tho' perhaps this may be allowable
in thoſe, who, for many years, have been
entirely immerſed in the ſtudy and con-
templation of the liberal arts and ſcien-
ces *; yet, in other people, this is by
no means to be tolerated. Nay, ſuch
perſons would act but prudently, if, at
thoſe feaſons when they are diſpoſed to
indulge their own private meditations,
they would ſequeſter themſelves entirely
from the company of other people.
Too great Senſibility.
§ It is likewiſe very unbecoming, ef-
pecially in a man, to appear too delicate,
and of too exquiſite a fenfibility. For,
to converſe with people of this character,
* Thomas Aquinas, dining with the King of
France, after a ſhort pauſe, with his eyes fixed,
ſtruck his hand upon the table, crying out; "I
have confuted the Manichæans!"
is
[ 46 ]
is rather a ſtate of ſervitude, than of fo
ciety upon equal terms.
And really,
you meet with fome people of ſo very ten-
der, and, as it were, brittle a texture,
that to live and converfe with them, is as
critical a ſituation, as to be furrounded
with the fineſt glaſs ware; to which the
flighteft ftroke
may be fatal: fo that, like
glaſs, they muſt be managed and handled
with the moſt delicate touch, for fear of
offence. For, if you do not obſerve with
the utmoſt readineſs and folicitude, every
punctilio of ceremony; addreſs them,
viſit them, reverence them, and anſwer
every queſtion with the greateſt accuracy:
they fret and torment themſelves as much,
or rather much more than another man
would do on account of the greateſt in-
jury or affront. Theſe people are ſo fond
of their titles, that unleſs you addreſs
them preciſely to an hair, according to
their own conception of themſelves, they
break out into bitter complaints; and im-
mediately conceive an immortal enmity
againſt
[47]
againſt the offender.-Such a one is a
very ill-bred fellow: he calls me his
friend, inſtead of my Lord.” “I have a
right to be called your Excellence, whe-
ther he knows it or not; and my title is
Lord John." "I was not placed at table
according to myrank, ſuch a day.”Such
a one has not returned my viſit yet, tho
I waited on him fome time ſince:" and
the like. No one ſhall converſe with
me, or with any one that is of my way of
thinking, upon ſuch a footing. Such
people certainly muſt, by degrees, ſo far
diſguſt the reſt of the world, that no one
will think them worth his notice : for
they are fo much, and beyond meaſure
'Wrapt up in, and ſo fond of themſelves,
that they can
leave no room for any re-
gard to the reſt of mankind. But men
expect, in the manners of thoſe with
whom they converſe (as I at firſt obſer-
ved under this head) as much ſweetneſs
and complaiſance, as can be ſuppoſed to
fubfift in ſuch an intercourſe, Now, to
5
live
( 48 )
live conſtantly with men of ſuch faſtidi-
ous tempers; and whoſe friendſhip, like
the fineſt thread, is fo eaſily ſnapped in
two, is not to live like their friend, but
their flave. And therefore, there is no
one, I will not ſay, who can be fond of,
but who does not deteft their company.
This exceſſive delicacy, therefore, and
effeminacy of manners, ought to be left
to the fillier part of the female ſex.
Converſation.
$S In our familiar converſation, alſos.
we are guilty of many and various offen-
ces : but principally, I think, in the
choice of the ſubjects on which we uſually
converſe; which ought not to be either
trifling or vulgar. For our company will
not attend to ſubjects of that kind, and,
of conſequence, can receive no pleaſure
from them: nay, they will deſpiſe the
reciter himſelf, with his goſſiping tales.-
Nor yet ought we to make choice of too
refined
[ 49 ]
.
refined or far-fetched topics for our
converfation; as people cannot liften
without pain to any thing of that kind.
We ought alſo to take particular care,
that the ſubject of our diſcourſe be ſuch,
as may not put any of the company to the
bluſh, or tend to the diſcredit of any one
preſent. Neither ought we to talk of
any thing filthy or obſcene, however
agreeable ſuch ſubjects may be thought
by fome people ; for a man of honour
ought to pleaſe others by honourable
means alone,
Neither is any thing, on any account;
to be ſpoken profanely of God, or his
Saints; whether ſeriouſly, or by way of
joke, however lightly ſome people may
think of the affair, or how much plea-
ſure ſoever they may take in this practice,
In which reſpect, the noble company in-
troduced in the tales of John Boccace *,
have very frequently offended : for
* The Saints which Boccace has ridiculed, are
chiefly the Popes and Monks; the Bonifaces, &c.
of thoſe days.
E
which
( 50 ]
.
which reaſon, they have defervedly fallen
under the ſevereſt cenſure, with all fenfi-
ble people. Know then, that to ſpeak
ludicrouſly of the Divine Being, or of
things facred, is not only the vice of the
moſt profligate and impious rakes, but a
fure indication of an ill-bred, ignorant
fellow. Indeed, to hear any thing ſpoken
irreverently of God, is ſo extremely fhock-
ing, that you meet with many people,
who, on ſuch occafions, will immedi-
ately leave the room.
$ Nor ought we only to ſpeak reve-
rently of the Deity, but, in all our con-
verſation, we ought to take all poſſible
care that our words do not betray any
thing looſe or vicious in our lives and
actions : for men dereft in others, thoſe
vices, which even they themſelves are
guilty of.
In like manner, it is unpolite to talk
of things unſuitable to the time when they
are ſpoken, and to the perſons who are
to hear us, tho' the things in them-
ſelves,
( 51 )
felves, and when ſpoken in a proper
place, may be really good and virtuous.
A truce, therefore, with your grave diſ-
courſes, on facred and religious ſubjects,
in an aſſembly of young people, who are
met together to be joyous and chearful.
On days alſo deſtined to public rejoi-
cing, or at an entertainment, let no me-
lancholy ſtories be recited ; nor let there
be any mention, or recollection of any
thing terrible; of wounds, diſeaſes,
deaths, tortures, peſtilences, and other
mournful or ſhocking incidents. Or, if
by chance any one ſhould ſtumble una-
wares upon a ſubject of this kind, let
him be drawn off in an agreeable and
artful manner from his intended purpoſe;
and inſenſibly led into the recital of
things more chearful and more ſuitable to
the occafion: Tho', perhaps, we poor
mortals have more frequently occaſion to
weep, than to laugh; on which account,
thoſe mournful fables, called tragedies,
as ſome imagine, were invented: that
being
E 2
I 52 ]
..
..
..
::
..
being repreſented in the theatres (ac-
cording to the * cuſtom of thoſe times)
they might clicite tears from thofe, who
ſtood in need of ſuch a diſcipline: that,
by hearing the misfortunes of human life
frequently lamented; they might be cured
of their weakneſs. But, however this
may be, we ought not to bring a gloom
over the minds of thoſe with whom we
converſe; eſpecially in thoſe places, where
people meet together to enjoy themſelves,
and not to lament the miſeries of human
life: although perhaps we may fome-
times meet with a gloomy mortal of
weak nerves, who is fond of ſqueezing
out a tear upon all occafions; whoſe
longing one might eaſily ſatisfy, by the
acrimony of a little muſtard, or by en-
* Triſſino had written his Sophoniſba, the first
modern tragedy, which was acted about twenty
years before this time, at the expence of Leo X.
But the uſual entertainments on the Italian thea
tre were nothing but extempore farces or panto-
mimes. See Riccoboni Theat. Ital.
tertaining
( 53 )
:
tertaining him in a ſmoaky room
For this reaſon, Philoſtratus, in Boc-
cace, is by no means excufable for the
ſubject of his oration, filled with nothing
but horrid events and ſhocking murders,
when he was ſuppoſed to ſpeak before an
affembly, met only for the purpoſes of
mirth and jollity. To introduce a narra-
tion, therefore, of ſuch diſmal and melan-
choly incidents, on ſuch an occaſion, is ſo
very abſurd, that it were much better
entirely to hold one's tongue.
Not much unlike this, is the abſur-
dity of thoſe, who never have any thing
elſe in their mouths to entertain you
with, but their wives, their children, or
their families." Ah! how our little
Bobby made us laugh laſt night! He's
a fine boy, I aſſure you; and ſo you'd
ſay if you faw him!” Or, perhaps, the
beauty or virtues, the good economy or
the good ſenſe of the good Lady his wife, are
the ſubject of his nauſeous panegyric.
But there is no one ſo idle as to attend to
ſuch
E 3
( 54 )
'fuch impertinencies, or rather, that hear
them without the utmoſt pain and diſguft.
Dreams.
It is alſo a tireſome cuſtom, which
ſome people have got, of telling their
dreams perpetually; and that with ſo
much eagerneſs, and with ſuch an air of
importance, as would furpaſs the patience
of a Stoic to attend to them; eſpecially,
when the reciters are generally ſuch in-
fignificant people, that, to liſten to their
moſt important waking tranſactions
would be abſolute loſs of time. We
ought not therefore to trouble others with
ſuch vile traſh, as our dreams uſually con-
fift of; for moſt of thoſe dreams, which
preſent themſelves to the generality of
mankind, are trilling and frivolous. And
tho' I have frequently
heard, that the
wiſe men amongſt the ancients have left
us, in their works, many dreams written
with ſingular art and elegance *; yet that
* Cicero, &c.
is
[ 55 ]
is no reafon why people leſs learned, and
even of vulgar rank, ſhould pretend to
any thing of that kind, in their ordinary
converſation.
A Dream of Flaminius Tomarotius.
re
Now I muſt confeſs, amongſt all the
dreams which I have ever heard (tho' I
make it a rule to liſten to very few) I
member but one that I thought worth
hearing or relating; and that was one
which preſented itſelf, in his ſleep, to that
worthy nobleman of Rome, Flami-
nius Tomarotius; who himſelf, how-
ever, was a perſon by no means illiterate,
or void of underſtanding; but, on the con-
trary, a man of fingular learning and great
ingenuity.
This nobleman then, in his ſleep, fan-
cied himſelf ſitting in the ſhop of a very
wealthy apothecary, his near neighbour.
Here on a ſudden, I know not upon what
occaſion, a tumult was raiſed amongſt the
E 4
people,
[ 56 ]
people, and it ſo happened that every
thing in this apothecary's fhop was ex-
poſed to plunder: when one man ſnatch-
ed up a linctus, another man a box of
pills or of lozenges; (one, one thing, and
another, another) and ſwallowed them
down with great avidity, inſomuch that,
in a very fhort time, there was not a vial,
a gallipot, or a pill box, or, in ſhort, any
kind of veffel, which was not emptied
and toffed off. There was one glaſs only,
(and that a very ſmall one) filled to the
very brim with a moſt pure and tranſpa-
rent liquor; which almoſt every one paf-
ſed by unnoticed, and which no one
would taſte.
Amidſt theſe tranſactions, he faw, on a
fudden, an elderly man enter the place, of
an auguſt and noble ftature, and who, by
his very aſpect, attracted the admiration
and reverence of every one preſent. He,
furveying with a grave air the drawers
and boxes of the apothecary's ſhop, ſome
emptied, ſome overturned, and a good
part
[ 57 )
part of them broken, eſpied alſo by
chance the glaſs above mentioned: which
he put immediately to his mouth, and
drank it off with ſuch eagerneſs, that he
left not the leaſt drop in the glaſs;
which having done, he walked out in
the fame manner with the reſt; at which,
therefore, Flaminius, imagining himfelf
to be ſtricken with great admiration,
turning to the apothecary aſked him
who that old man was, and wherefore he
had drunk with ſo much pleaſure that
water which was neglected by all the
reſt: to whom the apothecary ſeemed to
reply in theſe words; “O! my ſon, that
venerable old man whom you ſaw is the
Divine Being himſelf; and the limpid
water, deſpiſed by all the reſt, and drunk
off by him alone, was diſcretion; which
men (as you have probably experienced)
will by no means, even in the flighteſt
manner, touch with their lips."
Such ſort of moral dreams, then, may,
I think, be repeated, and liſtened to with
pleaſure
[ 58 ]
pleaſure and with improvement: for,
they appear more like the ſentiments of
the waking foul, than its viſions in ſleep;
and may be called the virtue of our fen-
ſitive nature, if I may be allowed the expreſ-
fion. But all thoſe filly dreams, void of all
meaning and ſentiment, ſuch as the gene-
rality of thoſe are, which we vulgar people
uſually dream, (for good and learned men,
even when they ſleep, are better and wi-
ſer than the wicked and illiterate ;) all
thoſe, I ſay, ought to be given up to ob-
livion, and to be entirely diſmiſſed as
ſoon as we awake.
.
Lies.
$ Tho' one would imagine there was
nothing to be found more vain and empty
than dreams, yet there is one thing re-
mains more futile, and even lighter than
vanity itſelf; I mean, a lie. For of thoſe
things which people ſee in their dreams,
there has generally been ſome ſhadow, as
it
[ 59 ]
it were, and repreſentation in their pres
ceding actions; but of a lie, there
never exiſted the leaſt ſhadow or protow
type in the univerſe. Wherefore, the ears
and attention of thoſe who liſten to us,
ought much leſs to be burthened with
lies, than with the recital of our dreams.
For, tho' lies may ſometimes be received
for truths ; yet, after a time, their au-
thors not only forfeit their credit, and
nobody believes a word they ſay; but no
one can bear to hear them with patience,
as being men, whoſe words are void of all
ſubſtance, and to whom no more regard
ought to be paid, than if they did not
ſpeak at all, but only vented fo much
breath in the empty air.
Yet we muſt obſerve, there are many
people to be met with, who will utter
lies, not with any malicious intention,
or for any advantage to themſelves; or to
injure others, either in their property or
in their reputation; but merely for the
pleaſure
[ 60 ]
pleaſure they take in the lies themſelves :
as you meet with ſome people, who
will be tippling every moment, not to
quench their thirft, but merely from a
fottiſh habit of drinking.
Others there are, who, from an im-
pulſe of vanity, will forge lies in their
own favour; extolling themſelves in a
magnificent manner, and boaſting of
their knowledge of great and wonderful
things, as if they were the only wiſe men
of the age.
Nay, a man, even when he is filent,
may, in reality, be guilty of a lie, by his
actions and behaviour ; which we every
day ſee in thoſe people, who, tho' per-
haps of middling, or even of the loweft
rank, yet, in their intercourſe with other
people, aſſume lo ſolemn an air ; ftrut
about with ſo much arrogance; take the
lead in converſation, and hold forth in fo
pompous a manner, as if they were plead-
ing in a court of juſtice; and talk with
5
fo
( 61 )
fo much oftentation and parade, that one
cannot look at them without the utmoſt
indignation and diſguſt.
You will find others, likewiſe, who,
tho' no richer than their neighbours, per-
haps, yet load their necks on every ſide
with gold chains, their fingers with rings,
and their hats and cloaths with jewels or
tafels, in fo expenſive a manner, that
fuch fplendor would be thought extrava-
gant, even in a nobleman of the firft dif-
tinction. This cuſtom, ſo full of pomp
and vain-glory, is the offspring of pride,
the daughter of vanity; and is carefully
to be avoided, as indecent and intole-
rable.
It is to be obſerved alſo, that in many,
eſpecially in the beſt-conſtituted com.
monwealths, it was uſually provided by
laws, that the rich ſhould not be allowed
to eclipſe and inſult, as it were, the
poorer fort, by too great a fplendor of
dreſs: for the poor are apt to think
themſelves affronted, when others ſeem
deſirous
[ 62 ]
defirous of ſetting themſelves up, even in
appearance, as ſo much their ſuperiors.
Every one, therefore, ſhould take great
care not to give into follies of this kind.
Arrogance.
$ Neither ought any one to boaſt of
his nobility, his honours, or his riches;
much leſs of his own wiſdom: or magni-
ficently to extol the bravery and great
actions, either of himſelf or of his ancel
tors : or, what is but too common, at
every other word to talk of his family:
For he that does thus, will appear to do it
in oppoſition to the preſent company;
eſpecially if they are not, or at leaſt
think they are not, leſs noble, leſs honour-
able, or leſs brave than himſelf. Or, if
they are really his inferiors in rank or ſta-
tion, he will be deemed to oppreſs them,
as it were, by his grandeur; and defign-
edly to reproach them with their mean-
neſs and miſery ; which muſt be univer-
ſally diſpleaſing to all mankind.
Nor
[ 63 ]
Nor yet ought any one to extenuate on
demean himſelf too much, any more than
le ſhould immoderately exalt himſelf:
but rather ſubſtract a little from bis real
dignity and merits, than arrogate too
much by his words, even in the moſt
trilling inſtance. For what is really laud-
able muſt diſpleaſe in the exceſs.
Yet, it muſt be obſerved, that thoſe,
who immoderately extenuate their actions
by their words, and renounce thoſe ho-
nours which are indiſputably their due,
by that very conduct diſcover a greater
degree of pride, even than thoſe, who in
this reſpect uſurp what does not belong to
them *. Wherefore, one might be apt to
ſay, perhaps, that the celebrated Giotto +
of Florence, the reſtorer of the art of
painting (in Italy) hardly deſerved the
great encomiums with which he was ho-
« The modeſt (hun it but to make it ſure."
Young's Love of Fame.
+ He died about the year 1336.
noured,
[ 64 ]
.
honoured, becauſe he forbade himſelf to
be called a maſter of his art; tho' with-
out doubt, conſidering the age he lived
in, he was a maſter, and of ſingular ex-
cellence.
But whether Giotto deferves to be
blamed or applauded for his fingularity,
this, at leaſt, is very certain; that he who
affects to deſpiſe what others ſo eagerly
covet, diſcovers by that very behaviour,
that he either condemns them on that ac-
count, or at leaſt does not care a ſtraw for
their good opinion. Now, lightlytoeſteem
glory and honour, which are ſo highly va-
lued by other people, is nothing leſs than
to ſet himſelf up as ſuperior to the reſt of
the world in thoſe reſpects: for no one in
his ſenſes would deſpiſe that, which by
the common conſent of mankind is ef-
teemed valuable, but ſuch only who
imagine themſelves to abound in thoſe
things which are more intrinſically va-
luable and excellent. Weought not, there-
fore, either to boaſt of our own advanta-
ges,
[ 65 ]
in an oftentatious
us
manner, nor yet to
fpeak contemptibly of them : for the
former is, in effect, to reproach others
with their imperfe&tions and defects; and
the latter to undervalue their real virtues
and good qualities.
But indeed every one ought, if poſſible,
to be entirely ſilent in regard to himſelf;
or, if any occafion ſeems to lay us under a
neceſlity of ſpeaking of ourſelves, it is a
moſt amiable practice, as was obſerved
before, to declare the plain truth, in a
modeſt and unaſſuming manner.
Thoſe therefore who are deſirous of
pleaſing, ought molt carefully to guard
againſt a fault, which yet is extremely
common with ſome people, who deliver
their opinion upon any ſubject propoſed
to them, with fo apparent a diffidence
and timidity, that one cannot, without
the utmoſt pain, liſten to them ; eſpeci-
ally if they are otherwiſe men of known
Icarning and ingenuity. " My Lord,
your Excellence will pardon me, if I
66 ſhould
hata
[ 66 1
am.
** fhould not be able to ſpeak to the caſe
es in hand ſo properly as it might be
* wiſh'd : I'll venture to ſpeak of this
es affair, according to my poor abilities
« and dullneſs of apprehenfion, as a
“ man that is void of all learning, and
« ignorant of every thing, as I really
I am aware, that I ſhall expoſe
myſelf to the contempt of your Excel-
" Jence; nevertheleſs, to ſhow my obe-
* dience, I will ſubmit myown judgment
" to your Excellency's commands."
And whilſt they are making theſe apo-
logies, they interrupt the buſineſs in
hand : ſo that the moſt intricate and ab-
ſtruſe queſtion might be diſcusſed in much
fewer words, and in a ſhorter time than
theſe tedious fellows waſte in excuſes,
before they come to the point.
There is alſo another ſet of people ex-
tremely odious and troubleſome; who,
in their converſation with others, by their
geſtures and behaviour, are really guilty
of a lie: for though, by the confeſſion of
every
( 67 )
every one, the firſt, or at leaſt a more
honourable place is juſtly due to them,
yet they perpetually feize upon the very
lowest, and it is an intolerable plague to
force them up higher: for, like a ſtartliſh
or refractory horſe, they are every moment
running back; fo that, in genteel com-
pany, there is an infinite deal of trouble
with fuch people, whenever they come
to a door ; for they will by no means in
the world be prevailed upon to go firſt;
but run, fometimes acroſs you; fome-
times quite backwards; and with their
hands and arms defend themſelves, and
make ſuch a buſtle, that at every third
ftair you muſt enter into a regular conteft
with them; by which means all the
pleaſure of your viſit, or ſometimes even
the moſt important buſineſs, must be ner
ceſſarily interrupted,
F 2
Ceremonies
2
[68]
br
ot
be
pl
PH
P
t
b
Ceremonies or Compliments.
be puede
$ And whereas theſe ceremonies, as we
call them, by a word foreign * to our
language, in which there is none to ex-
preſs it, (and by which our anceſtors
fhew that the thing was unknown to
them, as they had not ſo much as a
name for it;) as theſe ceremonies, I
ſay, on account of their vanity and emp-
tinefs, differ but little from dreams and
lies, we may, I think, in this treatiſe
of ours, as an opportunity here offers,
very properly join and treat of them
together.
A worthy friend of mine has more
than once obſerved to me, that thoſe fo-
lemnities, which, in the divine worſhip,
the prieſts uſe at the altar, are properly
called ceremonies: wherefore, after men
firſt began, with an artificial kind of good-
V
f
..
• The word ceremonia, in Latin, is always, I
believe, uſed in a religious ſenſe.
Vid, Livy, &c.
breeding,
( 69 )
:
IS
a
patrons and lords
breeding, mutually to exhibit to each
other a greater degree of reverence than
becomes ſuch frail mortals, and to com
pliment one another with the titles of
veneration, to bow down, bend, and
o
proftrate themſelvesand even unveil
their heads to addreſs each other with
1
ftudied and far-fetched titles ; to kiſs their
hands, as if they were paying their de-
1
votion to ſome faint or deity, then, por
Gbly, as this new and ridiculous cuſtom
had no name appropriated to it, ſome
one, by way of contempt, I ſuppoſe,
might call it by the name of cremony
as in like manner, a jovial meeting, for
the ſake of eating and drinking toge-
ther, has femetimes, by way of joke,
obtained the name of a triumph, Now
this cuſtom certainly never had its
original amongſt us; but is of foreign
and barbarous extraction, introduced, I
know not whence within theſe few
years, into Italy: which practice, wretch-
F 3
ed
[ 70 ]
]
66
pro
661
(if
ſho
fer
NO
;” ,
ed in itſelf, and full farther proſtituted
by a promiſcuous uſe of it on all occa-
fions, preſerves its vogue, and has its
whole exiftence in fuperfluous titles and
empty wordsot ti hanno parte
Ceremonies or compliments, therefore,
if we could look into their minds that
uſe them, are a certain counterfeit ex-
preſſion of honour and reſpect towards
thoſe to whom we perform them; and
confift in mere words and diffimulation ;
and are employed about certain titles and
forms of addreſs, contrived for the pur-
poſes of Aattery.. I call them a vain or
counterfeit expreffion of reſpect; becauſe,
in this ceremonious way, we pretend to
honour thoſe with every mark af reſpect,
whom, in our hearts, we have not the
least regard for.
Nay, there are ſometimes people, whom
we never wiſh to fee or converſe with,
whom yet, that we may not appear un-
polite, we call, one, perhaps, 6 moft
WC
tic
th
ed
b:
9
t
“ lent;".
[ 71 )
..
per real force; sod,
“ lent;" and with the like ardor, we
”
profefs ourſelves " the moſt devoted
“ humble ſervants," of thoſe whom
(if we conſulted our own hearts) we
ſhould wiſh rather to do them all the
miſchief in our power than any scal
ſervice.
Theſe compliments, therefore, would
not only be real lies, (as I obſerved) but
would differ little from the moſt flagi-
tious crimes and baſeft treacheries, unleſs
the titles and expreſions above-mention-
cd, like a ſword whoſe edge is bluntad,
on account of their continual and indil-
criminate uſe, which we have intro-
duced) had degenerated from their ori-
ginal meaning: we ought not, therefore,
to enquire too accurately into their figni-
fication, as we do into that of other
words ; for they really are not to be taken
in too ſtrict a fenfe, or according to their
real import,
F
4
And
V
th
P
i
1
1
[]
And that this is ſo, appears from what
happens daily to every one of us : for, if
we accidentally meet with any one whom
we never ſaw before, and have occaſion
to enter into diſcourſe with him, without
conſidering what degree of reſpect he
may really deſerve, for fear of ſaying too
little, we uſually allow him ſomething
more than he can juftly claim; and be
cauſe he is well-dreſſed, call him, per-
haps, "your Honour,” or “ your Lord-
“ fhip,” though, probably, he may af-
terwards prove to be nothing more than
a barber or a taylor. And as many
people, by the grant of ſome Pope or
Emperor, have long enjoyed certain pecu-
liar titles, which, without an affront to
the perſon who has ſuch a privilege, can-
not be omitted, nor yet be given to
others, who enjoy no ſuch privilege,
without expoſing them to ridicule ; ſo
the above-mentioned titles, and other
marks of reſpect, may now-a days be
more
[73]
more liberally beſtowed; for Cuftom,
too powerful a ſovereign, has, in this
reſpect, granted to the men of this age
very sample privileges. This cuſtom,
then, fo fpecious and beautiful in ap-
pearance, is, in reality, vain and empty;
confifting of form and thew, without
fubſtance, and of words without mean-
ing: yet, at the ſame time, neither you
nor I have any authority to abrogate
this cuſtom. So far from it, that as
this is not fo properly our own fault as
the fault of the age, we are, in fome
meafure, obliged, under certain limita-
tions, to the practice of it. We ought,
therefore, to diſtinguiſh, in this affair,
what ceremonies or compliments are
made uſe of, either from interest, from
vanity, er from a fenfe of duty. I'm
[ 74 ]
From Intereft. hodina
in
bu
310
3
It
f
d
is
1. Now every untruth which we
make uſe of merely for our own advan
tage, is properly a lie, and is big with
fraud and wickedneſs, and is, therefore,
highly diſhonourable ; for no one can
honourably, on any pretence, tell a
downright lie. And in this reſpect, flat-
terers are greatly delinquent; who, under
a fhew of friendſhip, baſely comply with
our moſt extravagant deſires ; not to
conciliate our regard, but to obtain fa-
vours from us
us; not to oblige, but
rather to deceive us: and though, per-
haps, this vice may be agreeable to fome
people in the practice; yet, as it is in
itſelf deteſtable and pernicious, it is by no
means becoming a truly polite man; for
neither is it allowable to injure any one,
under a pretence of pleaſing him: and
if, as was obſerved, ceremonies are no-
thing elſe but lies and flatteries, as often
as we make uſe of them for our own
intereſt,
[ 75 ]
:
1
:
intereſt, we do not act as good men,
but as perfidious and wicked wretches :
no ceremonies or compliments, therefore,
ought to be made uſe of fer fuch purpoſes.
It remains then, that we fpeak of thoſe
which are uſed either as matter of duty,
or from mere vanity.
As to the former, thofe which are per
formed as due to any one, it is by no
means proper to omic them; for he that
does ſo, not only diſpleaſes, but really
injures the perſon concerned, and it often
happens, that ducts are fought on ng
ocher account, but that one man is not
treated by another, whom he meets in
public, with thole marks of reſpect which
are juſtly his due : for, as I faid before,
great is the force of cuſtom, which, in
matters of this kind, is cridently to be
confidered as a law.
When, therefore, you addreſs a ſingle
perfon, of any rank, who repreſents a
number of people as a fociety, you do
not pay him that civility on his own ac-
count:
[
76 ]
count: and, if you ſhould ſpeak to him
in the fingular * number, (and call him
thou inſtead of you) you would deprive
him of what was really his due, and cer-
tainly affront him, by giving him an ap-
pellation which belongs only to mere
ruftics, and men of no importance. And
though other nations, and other ages of
Chytræus here introduces : łong ſtory from
Eraſmus's Adages; which, though not much to
his purpoſe, ſhews the ſpirit of the Engliſh na
tion at that time, and alſo the meanneſs of
worthleſs fellow, who was willing to ſhelter him.
ſelf under the national importance. A young
German phyſician had been prevailed upon, by
the promiſe of mountains of gold, to attend a Lon-
don merchant in a peſtilential fever :-When the
merchant got well, and the doctor put him in
mind of his fee, after many evaſions,
of his wife's
keeping the caſh, &c. he took advantage of the
German's calling him thou, agreeably to the
Latin idiom, and fell in a perilous paſſion :
« Tu homo Germanus Tuiſas Anglum !' “You,
a paltry German, pretend to thou an Engliſh-
<< man !" and thus, with dreadful menaces,
flipped away and ſaved his money,
men,
( 77 )
m
le
1
f
men, may have had other cuſtoms in this
reſpect; yet theſe are now in are amongſt
us : neither is this a proper place for en-
quiring, which of the two cuſtoms claims
the preference. But it may be adviſeable
to conform, not merely to a good faſhion,
but to the faſhion of the times, as we
pay obedience to laws, though not the
moſt perfect, for no other reaſon, but
becauſe the commonwealth, or who-
ever has the ſupreme power, has not
yet altered or repealed them. And as
this is the caſe, we ought carefully to
inform ourſelves, with what external
ceremonies or form of words it is cuf
tomary to receive, compliment, or ad...
dreſs perfons of whatever rank, in the
places where we reſide; that we our.
felves alſo may make uſe of the fame in
our converfation with them. And al-
though, according to the cuſtom of the
times, the famous Admiral of the royal
fleet, in a conference with Peter, King
of Arragon, addreſſed him in the fingu-
lar
( 78 )
b
fi
b
0
Jar number; yet ought we, both in our
diſcourſe and in our diſpatches to our
Kings, to give them the title, either of
your Serene Highneſs, or of your Ma-
jefty; for, as he obſerved the faſhion of
his own times, fo ought we to conform
to the manners of the age we live in.
And indeed, for this reaſon, I conſider
theſe compliments as ftrialy due; for
neither do they derive their original from
our will and pleaſure, but are impoſed
upon us by a law; that is, by the una-
nimous conſent of mankind. Now, in
thoſe things which have nothing ſinful
in them, but rather convey an idea of
our good-breeding and politeneſs, it is
both decent and our duty to comply with
a general cuſtom, and not diſpute and
quarrel with the common practice of
the world. And although to kiſs or fa-
lute any thing, in token of our vene-
ration, belongs properly to things ſacred;
nevertheleſs, if in your country it be a
cuſtomary thing to ſay to any one, when
6
you
C
t
[79]
$
.
you take your leave of him, " Sir, 1 kifs
your hand with the neft profound refpeel :
“or, Sir, I am your moſt chedient fer-
"s vant, and entirely at your devotion : or,
“ Sir, you may command my beſt ſervices;
** ufe me or abufe meg at your pleaſure, and
on every orcaſion whatever. If, I fay, it
be the faſhion to ufe theſe and the like
forms of expreffion, I would by all means
have you make uſe of them, as well as
other people.
In ſhort, whether in taking leave of,
or in writing to any perſon, you ought
to addreſs him, or take lerve of him, not
as Reaſon but as Caftom requires ; nor
as men ufed to do formerly, or 16, per-
haps, they ought to do, but as they do
now at this preſent time: for if, es
ſome people alledge, we ought, in our
epiſtles, to addreſs Kings or Emperors in
the ſtyle of the ancient Roinans: “ If
you and your children are well, I am
" well, and all is well ;" if we were to
attend to theſe pedantic people, I ſay, and
go
(
80]
we make matter of duty, to prevent the
go back thus to the primitive times,
we muſt, by degrees, revive the cuſtom
of the earlieſt ages of the world; when
mankind, for want of corn, fed upon
acorns.
But even in theſe compliments, which
the
DI
fo
in
ur
th
w
W
A
appearance of pride or vanity, certain
rules are to be obſerved.
And, firſt, regard is to be had to the
country in which any one lives : for
every faſhion is by no means conveni-
ent or proper to be obſerved in every
country. Thus, for inſtance, thoſe ce-
remonies which are in ufe amongſt the
Neapolitans, whoſe city abounds in
Noblemen diſtinguiſhed by their rank,
and men veſted with the higheſt autho-
rity ; the ſame might be extremely im-
proper amongſt the citizens of Lucca or
Florence, who are, for the moſt part,
t
• This was written before the Houſe of Me
dici were thoroughly eſtabliſhed, I fuppoſe.
merchants,
( 81 )
I
Š
.
merchants, or men not illuſtrious by
their birth, and amongſt whom no
Duke, or Prince, or Sovereign relides :
ſo that the magnificent and pompous
inanners of the Neapolitans, transferred
to Florence, (like the dreſs of a giant
upon a pigmy) would be prepofterouſly
fuperfluous : as, on the other hand,
the manners of the Florentines, compared
with thoſe of the Neapolitan Nobility,
would appear ſervilely mean and pitiful.
And, although the noble Venetiaas, out
of regard to their publis offices, ma
treat each other with u ira moderate de.
gree of ceremony, it would note for tbat
reaſon, become the citizens of * Rovigo
or Afola t, in their mutual falutations,
to make uſe of the fame formalities and
extravagant compliments: though, if I
well remember, that whole neighbour-
hood is of late fallen into triffing imper-
tinencies of this kind z either in conſe-
A town near
Padua.
* A calle in the Venetian territory.
G
quence
[ 82 )
1
.
quence of the long peace which they have
enjoyed, or by imitating the example of
the city of Venice, their ſovereign ; for
every one, without attending to the
reaſon of the thing, naturally treads in
the ſteps of his fuperiors.
But, ſecondly, we ought to have re-
gard to the time, the age, and the con-
dition, both of the perſon to whom we
make uſe of theſe ceremonious compli-
ments, and alſo of our own. And in-
deed, with men who are quite embar-
raſſed with affairs, we ought either en-
tirely to omit them, or as much as poſ-
fible to abridge them; and rather ſuggeſt
them by ſome intimation, than formally
expreſs them ; which they perform with
great addreſs in the court of Rome.
Yet really, in ſome other places, theſe
formal ceremonies are a great impediment
to ſerious buſineſs, and likewiſe attended
with the moſt troubleſome and the moſt
tedious delay. "Pray, be covered,” per-
haps a judge will ſay, who, on account
of
( 83 )
e of
for
in
in.
occa.
have
of the multiplicity of affairs, has not
time for theſe fooleries; whilft the client,
(after many awkward geftures, and a great
the
noiſe and ſcraping with his feet, having
declared his profound reverence for his
Lordſhip) at length, after a long inter-
re-
val of time, anſwers, « my Lord, I am
we
* fion to wear my hat:" to whom, how-
ever, the Judge replies, ** I bey, Sir,
« you'll be covered :" but he, twiſting
and twining himſelf, firſt on this ſide,
1-
then on the other, and bowing down to
the ground with immenfe gravity, ſays at
17
length; I beſeech your Lordſhip, I
y
may ſtand with my hat off, as it is my
« duty to do." In a word, this conten-
tion laſts fo long, and fo much time is
ſpent upon it, that the Judge might have
diſpatched the whole morning's buſineſs
in leſs ſpace than he can adjuſt this point
of ceremony.
Wherefore, though every perſon of
inferior rank ought to pay a proper re-
ſpect
G 2
[ 84 84
of
W
as
in
ic
il
1
]
ſpect to his Judge or the Magiſtrate; yet,
when the time will not admit of it, this
immoderate regard to punctilio is ex-
tremely provoking; and therefore, we
ought either entirely to lay it afide, or
at leaſt to limit it within the bounds of
moderation.
But neither are the ſame ceremonies
proper for young men amongſt one ano-
ther, which are very well amongſt per-
fons advanced in age : nor does it be-
come Plebeians, or people of middling
rank, to treat each other in the ſame ce-
remonious manner, which perſons of
quality make uſe of amongſt themſelves.
As indeed, people of real merit and
great excellence 'do not often practiſe
theſe idle ceremonies; nor are they much
delighted with them when made uſe of
towards themſelves ; nor do they exact
them very rigorouſly of others, having
their thoughts too much engaged with
things of more importance, to give much
attention to ſuch frivolous affairs.
Neither
[ 85 ]
..
..
.
.
::
Neither ought mechanics, nor people
of the lower fort, to trouble themſelves
with too many formal compliments to-
wards their fuperiors, and men in power ;
as people of rank uſually diſlike ſuch
impertinence in them becauſe they
look rather for ready obedience, than
theſe expreſions of honour, from people
in their humble ſtation for which rea-
fon, a fervant miſtakes the matter, who
makes too many officious profeſſions of
ſervice to his maſter · for a maſter muſt
think himſelf undervalued, and his abfo-
lute dominion and power to be called in
queſtion by ſuch a ſervant, as if, forſooth,
he was not at liberty to give whatſoever
orders or injunctions he pleaſed to his
own domeſtic. This kind of compli-
ments, therefore, are only to be uſed by
one gentleman to another: for whatever
ſervice any one performs as matter of
duty, is taken by him that receives it as
a juſt debt ; and he thinks himſelf under
no obligation to the perſon that performs
G3
( 86 )
it: yet he who, in this reſpect, does
rather more than he was ſtrictly obliged
to do, will probably gain the love and
eſteem of the perſon thus obliged. I
think I remember to have heard a ſaying
of fome celebrated and excellent Poet
“ That he who had the art of receiving
every one with politeneſs, and of
« converfing with them with an air of
" friendfhip, could make great intereſt
" from a ſmall capital.”
We ought to manage, therefore, in
regard to ceremony, (if I may be allow-
ed the compariſon) as a good maſter
taylor does in cutting out a fuit of
cloaths ; which ought to fit rather full
and eaſy, than too tight upon the body s
yet not ſo as that a pair of breeches
ſhould hang like a fack, or a coat like a
cloak about one. Thus, if you are
rather more liberal in this reſpect than
is abſolutely neceſſary, eſpecially towards
your inferiors, you will be called a very
clever, civil gentleman ; and if you be-
have
( 87 ]
.:
have in the ſame manner towards your
ſuperiors, as every gentleman ought to
do, you will be eſteemed a well-bred
man : but if any one over-acts the part,
and is too profuſe in his civilities, every
one will condemn him as a vain and fop-
piſh fellow; or, perhaps, as ſomething
worſe, as a deſigning knave, a paraſite,
or a flatterer : than which vice, there is
nothing more deteſtable, or that can
more diſgrace a gentleman or a man of
honour.
And this is that third kind of ceremo-
nious compliments, which proceed en-
tirely from our own vice or folly, and
are not impoſed upon us by the force of
cuſtom,
Here, then, let us recollect what was
ſaid in the beginning of this part of our
diſcourſe --that theſe ceremonies were
not at firſt in themſelves at all neceſſary :
ſo far from it, that every thing went on
much better, and more expeditiouſly,
without them ; which was the caſe, not
many
:
G 4
[ 88 ]
:
many years ſince, in our own country.
But the diſtempers of other nations have
infected us, as with many others, fo-alfo
with this malady; wherefore, ſince in
this reſpect we have now conformed to
an eſtabliſhed cuſtom, all that remains
is, that we ſubmit to make uſe of theſe
compliments, as being now a ſort of
tolerated lies, though formerly ſo ſtrictly
forbidden, and ſo offenſive to men of
honourable tempers, who are by no
means delighted with theſe ſpecious
fooleries.
And here I muſt inform you, that in
compoſing this treatiſe, from a diffidence
of my own flender knowledge, I have
conſulted the opinion of more excellent
and more learned men than myſelf; from
whom I have learned, amongſt other
things, that formerly, a certain king,
called Edipus, being baniſhed from his
own country, in order to ſave his life,
againſt which his enemies were plot-
ting, came at length to Athens, to the
court
[ 89 ]
.
court of King Theſeus ; and being now
introduced to Theſeus's preſence, and
hearing his own daughter ſpeak, (for he
was blind) he immediately knew her
voice, and from the impulſe of natural
affection ran to her embraces, before
he had paid his reſpects to Theſeus; but
as ſoon as he had diſcovered his error, he
began to excuſe himſelf to the king, and
to aſk his pardon for this omiſſion; but
the good and wife king, interrupting him
in his apology, addreſſed him in theſe
words: “ Don't be uneaſy on that ac-
« count, my good friend @Edipus; for
" I endeavour to build my glory upon
my own actions, and not upon the
" words of others *.” A ſentence which
deſerves to be perpetually remembered.
Now, though moft men are greatly
pleaſed to be treated with reſpect by the
The Greek learning was but juſt reviving
at this time, and underſtood but by few ; ſo that
an Archbiſhop might be excuſed for not having
read Sophocles.
reft
( 90 )
reſt of mankind; yet, if they perceive
themſelves to be honoured in too parti-
cular and artful a manner, they cannot
but be diſguſted, and diſcover that they
are lightly eſteemed by people of that
kind : for this fort of blandiſhments, or
rather adulations, beſides their intrinſic
baſeneſs, are attended alſo with this in-
convenience that they evidently declare,
in effect, that thoſe flatterers conſider the
perſon whom they thus endeavour to en-
fnare by their flatteries, as ſo very vain
and ſelf-opinioned, and withal fo very
ſtupid and filly a blockhead, that it is no
difficult matter to lay a bait for him, and
to draw him into their net.
.
Neither is it poflible for thoſe artful,
vain, and ſuperfluous compliments to
conceal the adulation which is veiled
under them ; for they are, now-a-days,
ſo evident, and ſo well known to every
one, that beſides the baſeneſs and wicked.
neſs above-mentioned, they only make
thoſe who practiſe them, for the ſake of
their
[gr]
ic
ܡܲܚܛܵ
}
their own advantage, troubleſome, and
thoroughly odious.
$ But there is yet another fort of
men greatly addicted to theſe ceremoni-
ous compliments, who make a peculiar
art and trade of them, and ſeem to have
this ſcience of theirs comprehended in
books, and to act by certain preſcribed
rules : for, to men of a certain rank,
they will nod in a familiar manner; on
others, they will vouchſafe to beſtow a
gracious fimile; a man of noble birth,
they will place upon the ſettee or fopha;
one of fomewhat inferior degree upon
ftool: which kind of ceremonies, I ima.
gine, were imported into Italy from
Spain; but being ill received in our
country, have made but a very flow pro-
greſs. As this accurate diſtinction of
rank is reckoned rather a troubleſome
affair amongſt us, no one, therefore,
ought to conſtitute himſelf a judge, pre-
ciſely to determine other people's preten-
fions as to place and precedence.
Nor
:
[ 32 ]
.
Nor yet ſhould theſe compliments, or
other expreſſions of kindneſs and bene-
"volente, be mercenary or venal, as they
are amongſt ladies of pleaſure; which I
have obſerved many of our great folks to
practiſe in their own courts, and who
will footh and coax even their do-
meftics and dependants with certain
artful civilities, inſtead of paying them
their wages and their reſpective ſtipends.
And really, thoſe who are immoderately
delighted with the practice of theſe formal
ceremonies, are generally ſo from a tri-
Aing vanity, as being men of no other
kind of merit. And, becauſe there is
no great difficulty in learning theſe ſu-
perficial forms, (which yet, in ſome mea-
ſure, gain the obſervation of mankind,
and are deemed pretty accompliſhments)
this ſort of gentry apply to them with
great aſſiduity: but as to more weighty
matters, they are unequal to the bur-
then, and can by no means make them-
felves maſters of them; and therefore,
would
[ 93 ]
ey
I
ho
0-
in
y
would gladly ſee mankind, in their inter-
courfe with each other, ſpend their whole
time in theſe ſpecious trifles : and with
this ſort of ſuperficial fellows the world
abounds.
But there are others, who are thus full
of words and artificial grimace, merely
by that means to ſupply the defects of
a fooliſh, ruſtic, and contracted foul ;
rightly imagining, that if they were as
deficient in their words and external ap-
pearance, as they are conſcious they
really are narrow and brutiſh in their
diſpoſition, they would be quite in-
ſufferable.
This, then, I can venture to affirm,
and you will experience it to be true-
that it is from ſome of the above-men-
tioned caufes, theſe fuperfluous ceremo-
nies have prevailed in the world, which
yet, in themſelves, are troubleſome and
diſagreeable to a great part of mankind :
for they prevent us from living in our
own way, and according to our own
inclination ;
( 94 )
inclinationi ; that is, from enjoying our
liberty; which every wiſe man would
prefer to all the grandeur in the world.
Government of the tongue.
ŚWe ought not to ſpeak flightingly of
others, or of their affairs : for, notwith-
ſtanding we may ſeem, by that means, to
gain the moft willing and ready attention
(from the envy which mankind uſually
conceive at the advantages and honours
which are paid to others) yet every one
will at length avoid us, as they would
a miſchievous bull: for all men thun the
acquaintance of people addicted to ſcan-
dal; naturally ſuppoſing, that what they
fay of others, in their company, they
will ſay of them, in the company of
others.
Thofe people, likewiſe, who contra-
diet whatever is ſpoken by others, and
make every affertion matter of diſpute
and altercation, diſcover, by that very
3
behaviour,
( 95 )
ould
1.
of
to
on
ly
behaviour, that they are very little ac-
quainted with human nature: for every
one is fond of victory; and it is with
extreme reluctance that they fubinit to
be overborne, either in converſation or
in the management of affairs. Beſides,
to be ſo ready to oppoſe other people,
upon all occaſions, is converſing like ene-
mies rather than friends : he, therefore,
that wiſhes to appear amiable and agree.
able to his acquaintance, will not have
continually in his mouth expreſſions of
this kind : “'Tis falſe, Sir : whatever
you may think, the affair is as I ſay;"
ånd the like. Nor let him be ſo ready
to prove every trifle by a bett or wager ;
but rather let him make it a conſtant
rule to ſubmit with complaiſance to the
opinion of others, eſpecially in matters
of no great moment: becauſe victories
of this kind often coft a man extremely
dear; for he that comes off victorious itt
ſome frivolous diſpute, frequently ſuffers
the loſs of ſome intimate friend, and at
the
ne
d
[96]
the ſame time, makes himſelf ſo diſagree-
able to others, that they dare not venture,
to be upon a familiar footing with him,
for fear of being every moment engaged
in ſome fooliſh altercation.
In the mean time, a man of this cha-
racter is uſually diſtinguiſhed by ſome
nick-name or other, not much to his
credit; fome calling him a hot-headed
{plenetic fellow; others, an obftinate
puppy; or, " the omniſcient gentleman,"
or, perhaps, " the * doctor Subtilis,"
the ſubtle doctor.
If any one, however, ſhould, at any
time, be drawn into a diſpute by the
company he is engaged in, let him ma-
nage it in a mild and gentle manner,
and not appear too eager for the victory;
but let every one ſo far enjoy his own
opinion, as to leave the deciſion of the
matter in queſtion to the majority, or
at leaſt to the moſt zealous part of the
:
* The name of diſtinction given to a celebrated
ſchoolman,
company:
[97]
1
company; and thus the victory, as due,
will voluntarily be yielded to you, and
your antagoniſt will appear to be the
man that has battled it, and fatigued
himſelf, and put himſelf in a ſweat to
no purpoſe, which kind of atchieve-
ments by no means become a man of a
polite education, but certainly procure
the hatred and ill-will of all mankind.
Not to mention, that theſe fame people
are greatly diſfatisfied with themſelves,
from a conſciouſneſs of the diſgrace which
their impertinence uſually brings upon
them; which reflection is always griev-
ous and uneaſy, to minds naturally well-
diſpoſed : on which head I may probably
ſay ſomething more hereafter.
Giving Advice.
In the mean time, I ſay, a great part
of mankind are ſo wonderfully pleaſed
with themſelves, on account of this kind
of victory, as not in the leaſt to regard
H
whether
[98]
whether they pleaſe or diſpleaſe other
people: and, in order to diſplay their
own fagacity, great ſenſe, and wiſdom,
they will be giving their advice to one
man, finding fault with another, and
diſputing with a third ; and, in fliort,
they oppoſe the opinions of other people
with ſo much vehemence, that from words
they often come to blows; as they will
allow no weight in any one's opinion
but their own. But to give one's advice
to others, unaſked, is, in effect, to declare,
that we are much wiſer than thoſe to
whom we give it; and is a kind of re-
proaching them with their ignorance and
inexperience. This freedom, therefore,
ought not to be taken with mere com-
mon acquaintance; but only with thoſe
to whom we are united by the moſt inti-
mate friendſhip, or thoſe of whom the
care and inſpection is particularly com-
mitted to our charge; or even with a
Stranger, if we perceive him to be threa-
tened with any imminent danger. But in
4
:
( 99 )
ir
1
our daily intercourſe with mankind, we
ought to be cautious not to obtrude our
advice too officiouſly upon others, nor
dhew ourſelves impertinently ſolicitous
about their affairs. Into which miſtake,
however, many are apt to fall; but, for
the moſt part, people of no great depth
of underſtanding for theſe ignorant and
ſuperficial people are led merely by their
fenſes, and feldom make any deep re-
Alections upon what comes before them ;
being that ſort of men, who have ſcarcely
any matters of conſequence ſubmitted to
their diſquiſition and examination. But
however this may be, he that is offering
his advice upon all occaſions, and thus
diſtributing it at random, gives a plain
intimation to the reſt of the world, that
they are entirely deſtitute of that wiſdom
and prudence in which he ſo greatly
abounds.
And really we meet with ſome people
ſo wonderfully conceited of their own
wiſdom, that to refuſe to ſubmit to their
admonition,
El 2
[100]
66 He
admonition, is the ſame thing as to de-
clare open war againſt them." Very
56 well, Sir, the advice of us poor people, I
find, will gain n admittance with people
“ of your conſequence :” or, “ Such a one
“ is above being adviſed :” or,
“ fcorns to liſten to my advice :" as if, for
ſooth, it were not a mark of greater ar
rogance to expect every one to ſubmit to
your opinion, than for a man ſometimes,
for private reaſons, to follow his own
judgment.
Cenſure.
It is a fault not much unlike the
above-mentioned, which they are guilty
of, who take upon them continually to
correct or reprove the foibles of their
friends ; and who pretend to decide all
diſputes by their ſovereign authority, and
to give laws to the reſt of the world.
“ Such a thing ought not to have been done :">
“ You uſed ſuch an expreſſion upon ſuch
7
or,
..
[ 101
)
ry
/
le
le
6 10
an occafion ; I would adviſe you to avoid
* it for the future.” “That wine which you
" drink is not good for you; and I'll have you
“ drink red wine, as I do." "You ough:
take ſuch a linctus, or ſuch a bolus ;
- it is the only thing in the world for your
complaint.” And thus there is no end
of their regulations, and their endea-
vours to reform all mankind.
Not to mention, at preſent, thoſe
.
gentry, who often take great pains to pick
a few tares out of other people's fields,
whilſt they patiently ſuffer their own
to be over-run with nettles and thorns.
And as there are few to be found, who
could prevail upon themſelves to ſpend
their whole time with their phyſician or
their confeffor, much leſs with the judge,
who had power of life and death over
them; ſo there is no one who would
venture to contract an intimacy with
theſe critical and dogmatical people; for
every one is fond of liberty, of which
theſe magiſterial gentry entirely deprive
them.
H 3
[ 102 1
them. It is a very ungracious practice,
therefore, to be ſo forward in ſetting
other people right, and preſcribing to
them, as if we were veſted with ſovereign
authority, and theſe things are better
Jeft to parents and ſchoolmaſters: nor
can you be ignorant with what reluc-
tance their children and their ſcholars
are, on that account, confined to their
company.
Ridicule.
Ś We ought not to ridicule or to
make ſport even of our greateſt enemy;
it being a mark of greater contempt to
laugh at a perſon, than to do him
any
real injury: for all injuries are done ei-
ther through reſentment, or ſome covet-
ous diſpoſition: but there is no one who
conceives any reſentment againſt any
perſon, or on account of any thing,
which he does not at all value, or who
covets that which is univerſally deſpiſed :
which
[103]
I
which ſhews, that they think him a man
of ſome conſequence, at leaſt, whom they
injure; but that they have an utter con-
tempt for him whom they ridicule, or
make a jeſt of: for when we make ſport
of any one, in order to expoſe or put
him out of countenance, we do not a&
thus with a view to any advantage or
emolument; but for our pleaſure and di-
verfion. We ought, by all means,
therefore, in our common intercourſe
with mankind, to abſtain from this igno-
minious kind of ridicule. And this is
not very carefully attended to, by thoſe
who remind others of their foibles, either
by their words or their geſtures, or by
rudely mentioning the thing itſelf; as
many do, who Nily mimic, either by
their ſpeech or by ſome ridiculous diſtor-
tion of their perſon, thoſe that ſtammer,
or who are bandy-legged or hump-back-
ed; or, in fhort, who ridicule others
for being anyways deformed, diſtorted
or of a dwarfiſh and inſignificant appear-
ance;
H 4
( 104 )
ance *; or thoſe who, with laughing
and exultation, triumph over others for
expreſſing themſelves with any little im-
propriety, or who take a pleaſure in
putting them to the bluſh ; which prac-
tices, as they are very diſagreeable, ſo
they make us defervedly odious.
Not much unlike theſe are thoſe buf-
foons, who take a pleaſure in teazing
and ridiculing any one that comes in
their way; not ſo much out of contempt,
or with an intention to affront them, as
merely for their own diverſion. And
certainly there would be no differ-
ence between jeſting upon a perſon and
making a jeft of him, but that the end
and intention is different: for he that
jeſts upon any one, does it merely for
amuſement; but he who makes a jeſt of
him, does it out of contempt. Although
S
* Tully ſeeing his ſon-in-law Lentulus, (who
was a very little man) with a monſtrous ſword;
* Who has been tying up my ſon-in-law to that
“ long ſword ?" ſays the facetious orator.
theſe
[ 105 )
18
theſe two expreſſions are uſually con-
founded, both in writing and in converſa-
tion ; yet he that makes a joke of ano-
ther, fets him in an ignominious light
for his own pleaſure ; whereas, he who
only jokes upon him, cannot ſo properly
be ſaid to take pleaſure, as to divert him-
ſelf in ſeeing another involved in ſome
harmleſs error ; for he himſelf, probably,
would be very much grieved and con-
cerned to ſee the ſame perſon in any
Judicrous circumſtances, attended with
real diſgrace. Det er
I remember, when I was a boy, hay-
ing made ſome progreſs in grammatical
learning, I obſerved that Micio, (in the
Adelphi of Terence) though he was in-
credibly fond of his adopted ſon, Ælchi-
nus, yet he ſometimes anuſed himſelf
in playing upon him ; as when he thus
expreſſes himſelf in a ſoliloquy *
Why may I not
Divert myſelf a little with my fon?
.
* Ast iv. Sc. v.
Hence
[ 106 )
Hence it appears, that one and the ſame
thing, though done to one and the ſame
perſon, may be ſometimes taken as jeſting
upon a man, and ſometimes as making a
jeſt of him, according to the intention of
the perſon that does it. But becauſe our
intention cannot be evidently known to
other people, it is not a very prudent
practice, in our daily commerce with
the world, to make uſe of fo ambiguous
and ſuſpected an art. Indeed, the name
of a buffoon is much rather to be dreaded
than to be deſired: for the farne thing of-
ten comes to paſs in theſe caſes, which
happens to people in ſport and play ;
that one man gives another a blow
in jeft, which yet the other takes feri-
ouſly, as intended for an affront; ſo that
from jeſting they often come to fighting
in good earneſt. In like manner, he
whom we rally, in a familiar manner,
and out of mere fun (as we call it,) fre-
quently takes it as intended for an affront,
and reſents it accordingly.
Not
( 107 )
Not to mention, at preſent, that many
of theſe waggeries confift, in ſome fort,
of deception. Now, every one is natu-
rally provoked at being deceived, or led
into an error.
It appears then, from
many conſiderations, that he who is de
ſirous of gaining the love and good-will
of mankind, ought not greatly to affect
this ſuperiority in playing upon, and
teazing thoſe with whom he converſes.
It is true, indeed, that we cannot, by
any means, paſs through this calamitous
mortal life, without ſome recreation and
amuſement, and becauſe wit and hu-
mour occaſion mirth and laughter, and
conſequently that relaxation which the
mind requires,
we are generally fond
of thoſe who excel in a facetious and
agreeable kind of raillery; and therefore,
the contrary to what I have aſſerted
may
ſeem to be true; I mean, that in our ordi-
nary intercourſe with mankind, it is high-
ly commendable to entertain each other
with wit and facetious repartees : and,
doubtleſs,
[ 108 ]
doubtleſs, thoſe who have the art of
rallying with a good grace, and in an
agreeable manner, are much more ami-
able than people of a contrary character.
But here regard muſt be had to many
circumſtances : and fince the end pro-
poſed by theſe jocoſe people is to create
mirth, by leading ſome one, whom they
really eſteem, into fome harmleſs error,
it is requiſite, that the error into which
he is led, be of ſuch a kind, as not to
be attended with any confiderable detri-
ment or diſgrace; otherwiſe, this ſort of
jokes can hardly be diſtinguiſhed from
real injuries.
Beſides, there are ſome ſort of people
of ſuch rough and untractable tempers,
that it is by no means ſafe to jeſt with
them at all.
Nor ought we to joke upon any ſerious
occaſions ; much leſs upon any flagitious
tranſactions : for he that acts thus, will
be thought to conſider a roguiſh action
and a jeſt as one and the ſame thing.
Wherefore,
( 109 ]
&
Wherefore, I can by no means be
perſuaded to think, that Lupus Huberti
at all lefſened the ignominy of a very
baſe action, but rather greatly augmented
it, in pretending to excuſe his cowardice
by a bare-faced jocular confeffion of it:
for though he might have defended the
caſtle of Latera, yet, feeing himſelf
clofely blocked up by the enemy's works,
he, on a ſudden, ſurrendered it to them;
obſerving, that it was not agreeable to
the nature of a * wolf, (as his name
in Latin fignifies) to be pent up in ſtalls
and ſheep-folds. But it is very indecent
to joke and trifle where there is no
room to laugh.
It is, moreover, to be obſerved, that
there are two forts of jokes
biting and ſevere; the other, harmleſs
and innocent. In regard to the former,
it may be fufficient to obſerve the pre-
the one,
* This General Wolf ſeems to have reſembled
our Falſtaffe, rather than his late celebrated name-
fake, of undaunted memory.
cept
[ 110 ]
:
.
cept of a certain wife man, who uſed to
fay, that jeſts ought to nibble like a lamb,
and not bite like a dog ; for if a jeſt
have any thing in it of that canine feve-
rity, it is no longer a jeſt, but an affront.
And the laws of almoſt all ſtates have
decreed, that he who attacks another,
with any fevere and injurious reflections,
Lhould be feverely puniſhed : 'and, per-
haps, it would not be improper to ap-
point ſome ſmart correction for thoſe,
who, under the pretence of joking, utter
things more biting and ſevere than de-
cency would permit.
However, a well-bred man would col-
lect, from his own reaſon, that what
the laws have eſtabliſhed concerning in-
jurious libels, ought really to be extend
ed to thoſe ſtrokes of ſatire, which leave
a fting behind them; and would, there-
fore, very feldom, and always with great
tenderneſs, make uſe of them.
But beſides, we muſt obſerve, that
whether theſe witticiſms have any thing
ſatyrical
[ III ]
.
ſatyrical in them or not, yet, unleſs they
are delicate and facetious, they not only
give no pleaſure, but greatly diſguſt the
company; or, if they laugh at all, they
probably laugh at the jefter, inſtead of
the jeſt : and becauſe theſe jokes are no-
thing more than an ingenious kind of
fallacies, and theſe fallacies are a refined
and artificial affair, they cannot cleverly
be practiſed but by a man of an acute
and ready wit, and of that kind which
excels in a ſudden and extemporary ex-
ertion; and therefore they by no means
fuit with vulgar, ſtupid, and dull fel-
lows; nay, nor perhaps with every one
who may abound in folid good ſenſe :
for wit of this kind conſiſts rather in a
peculiar quickneſs and elegance, and in
eaſy turns of thought; on which ac-
count, prudent people, in this caſe, con-
ſider not ſo much what they are inclined
as what they are able to do; and when,
after one or two efforts of this kind,
they find they have attempted it in vain,
finding
[
I12]
finding themſelves not qualified for it,
they defift, and ſpend no more pains about
it, left they fhould happen to ſucceed no
better than Æſop's aſs in the fable, who
expoſed himſelf to ridicule by pretending
to imitate the tricks of the lap-dog. And
if you would accurately obſerve the be-
haviour of other people, you would foon
be convinced, that what I ſay is true; I
mean, that this fort of raillery does not
become every one that has an inclination,
but only thoſe who have abilities for the
practice.
Jingling Puns.
Bar
You will meet alſo with ſome people,
who, for every word that is ſpoken, have
fome other word, without any meaning,
ready at hand, by way of jingle * ;
others, who will change the fyllables of
Chytræus's inſtances are, “ Philippus, lippus ;
“ ſacerdotium, otium," &c. as if we ſhould ſay,
in Engliſh, “ Such a dreſs is commodious," one
of theſe wags would anſwer, " adicus."
a word,
[ 113 ]
6 bed."
a word in a triling, fooliſh manner *;
others will ſpeak or anſwer in a different
manner from what we expected ; and
that without any wit or beauty of
thought: as, Where is my Lord?" " In
“ his cloaths, unlefs he is bathing or in
« How does this wine taſte
A little moiſt, I think.” How is this
diſh to be eaten?' " With your mouth;'
+ and the like.
All which kinds of wit (as you will
eaſily apprehend) are low and vulgar.
But to diſcourſe what kinds of wit are
moft elegant and genteel, is no part of
my preſent deſign; for this has been
done already very copiouſly, by men far
my ſuperiors in learning and ingenuity I.
Beſides, as all true wit affords immedi-
As in Anagrams.
+ The author quotes another joke from Plautus,
which would be unintelligible to an Engliſh reader,
about as good as “A ſtormy night is a Knight
of the Garter;" that is,“ a blue-ſtring knight."
1 See Cic. 1. 2. de oratore,
I
ately
[ 114
afely fufficient and certain teſtimony of
its own grace and elegance, you can
very rarely err in this reſpect, unleſs you
are blinded by an immoderate degree of
ſelf-partiality: for whenever a jeſt is
really facetious and elegant, there imme-
diately ariſes an appearance of mirth and
laughter, joined with no common degree
of admiration.
If, therefore, your witticiſms are not
inſtantly approved by the laugh of the
company, for Heaven's fake, do not at-
tempt to be witty for the future; for you
may take it for granted, the defect is in
yourſelf, and not in your audience : for
the bearers, being immediately ſtricken
with a ready, genteel, and delicate re-
partee or bon mot, cannot poſlibly for-
bear laughing, though ever ſo deſirous;
but, muft neceſſarily laugh, though
againſt their will: from whom, as the
true and legitimate judges, no one ought
to appeal to his own opinion, or to re-
peat
..
( 115 )
peat an experiment which has already
met with ſuch ill fuccefs.
Buffoonery.
$ Neither ought any thing to be done
in an
abject, fawning, or buffooniſh
manner, merely to make other people
laugh; ſuch as, diſtorting our mouths
or our eyes, and imitating the follies and
geſticulations of an harlequin or
merry-andrew : for no one ought baſely
to demean himſelf, to pleaſe other people.
This is not the accompliſhment of a
gentleman, but of a mimic and a buf-
foon; whoſe vulgar and Plebeian me-
thods of entertaining their company,
ought by no means to be imitated.
Yet I would not have you affect a
ftupid inſenſibility in this reſpect, or too
great delicacy on theſe occaſions ; but
he that can ſeaſonably produce ſome-
thing new and ſmart (in this way) and
not obvious to every one, let him pro-
duce
2.
I 2
[ 116 ]
duce it; but he that is not bleft with
this faculty, let him hold his tongue : for
theſe things proceed from the different
turn of men's minds; which, if they are
elegant and agreeable, they convey an
idea of the ingenuity and readineſs of
wit in the perſon that utters them; which
generally gives great pleaſure to others,
and renders the perſon agreeable and
entertaining: but if the contrary is the
cafe, we muſt expect a contrary effect :
for people that aim at this kind of wit,
without the ability, are like an aſs that
pretends to be pleaſant, or a fat, punch-
bellied fellow, who ſhould attempt to
lead up a minuet, or ſtrip himſelf and
dance an hornpipe upon the frage.
Of pleaſant Narrations, or Stary-telling.
$ But, excluſive of theſe illiberal buf-
fooneries, there are other kinds of genteel
and entertaining pleaſantries, which ariſe
merely froin our diſcourſe alone; that is,
when
[ 117 ]
when the wit does not confift ſo much in
any ſmart fallies, (which requires a brevity
of expreflion) as in ſome lengthened and
continued narration ; which ought to be
artfully diſpoſed, and properly expreſſed,
ſo as to repreſent the diſpoſitions, cum
toms, geſtures, and manners of thoſe
who are the ſubjects of our diſcourſe ;
and that he who liſtens to us, may think
he does not only hear our narration, but
ſee the whole tranſaction which is re-
lated, before his eyes; as we do when
* any action is repreſented on the ſtage.
This kind of excellence, the gentlemen
and ladies introduced by Boccace well
underſtand; though ſometimes, if I
miſtake not, they expreſs things a little
bordering upon obſcenity, in more plain
and expreſſive terms, than is agreeable
to the character of a modeſt woman or of
a gentleman.
If, therefore, you have a mind to re-
late any thing in company, it is proper,
before you begin, to have the whole
ſtory,
I 3
[ 118 ]
ftory, whether a piece of hiſtory or any
late occurrence,
well fettled in your
mind; as alſo, every name and expreſ.
fion ready at hand, that you may not
be obliged, every moment, to interrupt
your narration, and enquire of other
people, and beg their aſſiſtance; fome-
times in regard to the fact itſelf; fome-
times the names of perſons, and other
circumſtances, of what you have under
taken to recite *.
But if you are to relate any thing
which was ſaid or done amongſt any
number of people, you ought not too
frequently to uſe the expreſſions - of,
« He ſaid," or, " He replied;” becauſe
theſe pronouns agree equally with all
the perfons concerned, and this ambi-
guity muſt neceffarily lead the audience
into an error. It is proper, therefore,
that he who relates any fact, ſhould
make uſe of fome proper names, and
• Maretus's arguments to the plays of Terence,
inſtances of good narration.
СНУт, за
take
[119]
66. The
take care not to change them one for
another during the narration.
Moreover, the reciter of any incident
ought to avoid the mentioning thoſe cir-
cumſtances, which if omitted, the ſtory
would not be leſs, or rather would be
more agreeable without them.
perſon I ſpeak of was ſon of Mr.
66. Such-a-one, who lives in St. James's
Street; do you know the man? His wife
was daughter to Mr. Such-a-one • the
was a thin woman, who uſed to come
conſtantly to prayers at St. Lawrence's
"church: you muſt certainly know her.
“ Zounds! if you don't know her, you know
nothing !" Or, “ He was a handſome,
“ tall, old gentleman, who wore his own
" long hair : don't you recollel bim?"
Now, if the very ſame thing might
as well have happened to any other per-
fon, which happened to him, all this
long diſquiſition were to little purpoſe;
nay, muſt be very tedious and provoking
to the audience; who being impatient
I
to
[120]
曾
​name
to arrive at a complete knowledge of the
affair which you have begun upon, you
ſeem determined to delay the grati-
fying their curioſity as long as poſſible.
Such, probably, were thoſe idle circum-
ftances, to the delicate part of the au-
dience, of the filly lover in Plautus * :
“ This is my uncle Megadorus ; my father's
was Antimachus ; my name is
" Lyconides ; my mother is called Euno-
« mia :" for ſo long and accurate a
detail of his pedigree feemed very little
to his preſent purpoſe.
On this ſubject we are taught a very
uſeful precept by a great and foreign
maſter of of rhetoric, to this effect :
« That a tale or fable ought to be firſt
diſpoſed and adjuſted in the mind under
feigned names; and afterwards related
by applying the names proper to the
# Plaut. Aulul. At 2.
+ Ariftot. Poetic. qu. Though he ſpeaks of
the different conduct (in this reſpect) of tragedy
and comedy.
perſons
( 121 )
perſons introduced : for the former are
ſuited to the characters of the perſon ; but
the latter are arbitrarily impoſed, at the
will of the parents, or other perſons con-
cerned: wherefore, the fame perſon who,
in your imagination, ſuſtains the cha-
racter of Avarice, ſuppoſe, in your nar-
ration, will be called by the name of
fome of your fellow-citizens, ſuch as
Tantulus or * Euclio;" if the perſon
you make uſe of be univerſally acknow-
ledged ſimilar to thoſe ancient characters.
But if, in the country where you live,
you know no perſon that will anſwer
your purpoſe, you ought to form your
plan in ſuch a manner, that the affair
may appear to have happened in fome
other place, and then feign proper names
at your pleaſure.
i It is true, indeed, that we hear with
greater pleaſure, and ſeem to behold be.
fore our eyes, what is ſaid to have be-
# A well-known character in Plautus ; Aul.
fallen
[ 122 ]
fallen people whom we are acquainted
with, (eſpecially if the incident be ſuch
as is ſuitable to their characters) than
that which happens to ſtrangers, and per-
fons unknown to us. The reaſon is
obvious; for when we know that ſuch
a perſon uſed to act in ſuch a manner,
we the more eaſily believe that he has
acted thus, and ſeem to behold him be-
fore our eyes ; but in regard to ſtran-
gers, the caſe is different.
$ In a prolix narration, as indeed in
any other diſcourſe, our words ought to
be clear and plain, ſo that they may be
eaſily underſtood by every one preſent;
as alſo elegant in regard to the found, and
to the thing intended to be exprefled.
If, therefore, between theſe two expreſ-
fions, your choice is free, you ſhould
rather fay, “ I had two perfons privy to,"
than " * witneſſes of the fact :' ſo it is
better to ſay, " Jupiter ſprinkles the
* The word Teftes, in Latin, is capable of
a ludicrous meaning, perhaps,
2
« Alps,"
[123]
“ Alps," than * “ befputters them with
“ Inow :" as likewiſe, to fay, “ baniſh
“ this grief from your mind," rather
than " ſpit it out " becauſe, by ex-
preffing yourſelf thus, your words will
be taken in a more ſimple ſenſe ; nor, by
their ambiguity, be perverted to any baſe
or abſurd meaning ; nor will they fuggeft
to your audience any thing indecent or
obſcene. And though, poſſibly, ſome of
our moſt excellent poets, and other men
of great genius, may have neglected
this caution in their writings; yet, in a
work of this kind, on the ſubject of
polite converſation, and the not giving
offence to others, their authority ought
to have no weight. But to return to
our fubject. I ſay, then, that we ought
to make uſe of clear and ſignificant
words; which we shall do, if we
know how to make a prudent choice of
Conſpuere, a word uſed by an affe&led poet
in Horace.
+ Terence; Eunucha
ſuch
[ [ 124 ]
ſuch words as are originally of our own
country ; ſo that they are not too ftale
and obſolete, and, like torn or thread-
bare garments, laid aſide and out of uſe.
Such, in Engliſh, are " Welkin, Guer.
"don, Lore, Meed, Eftfoons *," and the
like. The better to accompliſh this, alſo,
let your words be fimple, and not ambi
guous; for it is in the conſtruction of
riddles, that words are to be taken equi-
vocally, or as expreſſing two different
things. Thus, for inſtance, in the Afi-
naria of Plautus:
** You lead me where one ſtone another grinds,
" And living men are tickled by dead bulls to
For the ſame reaſon, we ought to uſe words
in the moſt proper ſenſe, and ſuch as ex-
* Though theſe antiquated words give a fo-
lemnity to blank verſe, I think they ought not to
be admitted on any other occaſion, unleſs a
poet is greatly diſtreſſed for a rhyme.
+ That is, the workhouſe Mortui boves, for
bulls' pizzles."
preſs
( 125 )
preſs the thing intended as fignificantly
as poflible, and which are the leaſt ap-
plicable to any other thing; for, by this
means, the very objects themſelves will
feem to be repreſented to our eyes, and
rather pointed out to us, than merely de-
fcribed. Thus, it is proper to an horſe
to neigh, to a dog to bark, to an hog
to grunt, to a bull to bellow, to a ſheep
to bleat, to a boar to gnaſh, and to a
ferpent to hiſs *.” As, therefore, the
genuine and proper names of things are to
be uſed in our converſation with others,
no one can commodiouſly converfe wit
him who does not underſtand the lan-
guage which he makes uſe of: yet, though
a ſtranger may not be maſter of the lan-
guage which we uſe, we are not, on
his account, to corrupt or lay afide our
native tongue ; as ſome coxcomical jaca-
napes will attempt, with violent efforts,
* This preciſion in our language is of conſe-
quence, and too much neglected,
to
[ 126
)
to make uſe of the language of any for
reigner with whom they converſe, and ſo
expreſs every thing improperly. Thus it
often happens, that a German will affect
to talk with a Dutchman, in the Dutch
dialect; and a Dutchman, from an affecta-
tion of pomp and politeneſs, will attempt
to talk in the German language with
a German: where, however, it is much
eaſier for a by-ftander to obſerve, that
each of them uſes a language which is fo.
reign to them, than it is to ſuppreſs his
laughter, which this ſtrange gibberiſh, ut-
tered by the mouth full, muft plentifully
excite. We ought never, therefore, to
make uſe of a foreign language, unleſs
when it is abſolutely neceſſary to expreſs
our wants : but in our common inter-
courſe with others, let us be contented
with our native tongue, though it may
be thought far inferior to, and leſs noble
than fome others. Thus a Bavarian
had much better talk in his own lan-
guage, though it be accounted leſs ele
gant,
( 127 )
gant, than in the Miſnian, or any
other : for, let him take all the pains in
the world, the proper and peculiar idioms
of that language will never preſent them-
ſelves to him, as they do to a native of
Miſnia * : but if any one muſt needs be
fo complaiſant to the perſon he converſes
with, as to abitain from thoſe more pro
per and peculiar words, which I men-
tioned, and, in their room to fubſtitute
more general and popular expreſſions to
his converſation will certainly be leſs
agreeable on that account.
$ Every gentleman will alſo be very
cautious not to uſe any indecent or in-
modeft expreſſions. Now, the decency
of an expreffion conſiſts either in the
found, or in the word itſelf, or elſe in
the fignification of it; for- there are
fome words expreflive of things decent
In Upper Saxony.
+ Such as, quittance, inſtead of a difebarge.
CHYT.
enough;
( 128 ]
enough, and yet, in the word itſelf, or
in the ſound of it, there ſeems to be
fomething * indecent and unpolite.
When, therefore, words of this kind,
though but ſlightly fuſpected, offer them-
felves, well-bred women uſually ſubſti-
tute others more decent in their room ti
but you will meet with ſome ladies (not
the moſt polite women in the world)
who frequently, and inconſiderately, let
fall fome expreffion or other, which, if
it were deſignedly named before them,
To avoid an indelicate found, in our tranſla-
tion of the 104th Pſalm, v. 18, an Hebraiſt pro-
poſed to retain the Hebrew word; “ ſo are the
* ftony rocks for the ſaphans."
+ Yet there is an affectation in this, which,
ſometimes makes the matter worſe. As I remem-
ber a ſqueamiſh lady, who wanted to borrow a
Canary bird, that would enable her own “ to
“ produce young ones." This circumlocution
fuggeſts the whole proceſs of treading the hen,
&c. to the imagination; when, if ſhe had ſaid
« the cock-bird, it would only have implied
a bird of a brighter colour.
6
they
( 129 )
two or
they would bluſh up to the ears. Wo-
men, therefore, who either are, or wiſh
to be thought well-bred, ſhould care-
fully guard, not only againſt all actions,
but all words which are indecent or im-
modeft; and not only fo, but from all
which may appear fuch, or be capable of
ſuch an interpretation,
It may further be obſerved, that where :
more words expreſs the ſame
thing, yet one may be more or leſs de-
cent than the other : for inſtance, we
may decently enough fay, “ He ſpent
“the night with the lady :" but, if we
ſhould expreſs the ſame thing by another
and more plain phraſe, it would be very
improper to be mentioned. Thus it be.
comes a lady, and even a well-bred man,
to deſcribe a common proftitute by the
name of an immodeſt woman, and ſo of
the reſt *.
Nor
Chyti æus ſhrewdly obſerves, we ſhould ra-
ther ſay, “ Quot ſedes habuiſti, quam quoties
6( cacafti ?"
..
[130]
Nor are indecent and immodeft
words alone, but alſo low and mean ex-
preſſions to be avoided ; eſpecially upon
great and illuſtrious ſubjects : for which
reaſon, a poet *, otherwiſe of no vulgar
merit, is deſervedly reprehenſible, who,
intending to deſcribe the ſplendor of a
clear ſky, ſays,
And without dregs the day.'
.
For ſo low and dirty a phraſe was, in
my opinion, by no means fuitable to fo
fplendid and illuſtrious an object: nei-
ther can any one cleverly call the ſun
as the candle + of the world; for this ex.
preſſion ſuggeſts to the imagination of
the reader, the ſtink of tallow, and the
greaſineſs of the kitchen. Hither may be
referred many of thoſe proverbs which
cacaſti?" How many ſtools have you had, than
how often have you
* Mart. 1. 8. ep. 14.
† The original ſays “ lamp;" which being
leſs uſed with us, would appear leſs trivial.
5
are
131
are in the mouth of every one ; the ſenti-
ments of which may be good, but the
words are polluted, as it were, by the
familiar ufe of the vulgar; as every
one may obſerve from daily experience. .
$ What has hitherto been ſaid, then,
on this topic, is to be obſerved in our
lengthened narrations; as alſo ſome
"
few other precepts, which you will learn
* more expeditiouſly of your maſters, and
from the art of rhetoric. I ſhall only
remark, that, amongſt other rules, you
ought to accuſtom yourſelf to an ele-
gant, modeft, and pleaſing manner of
expreſſion ; and fuch as has nothing of-
fenſive to thoſe you converſe with.
Thus, inſtead of ſaying, “ Sir, you don't
" underſtand me," you ought rather to ſay,
" I believe, I do not expreſs myſelf ſo clearly
as 1 ought to do.”
It is alſo better to
ſay, “ Let us conſider the affair more ac-
« curately, whether we take it right or
" not," than, “ You miſtake;" or,
*** not fo;” or, “ You know nothing of the
K 2
of matter."
" It is
[ 32 ]
.
:
® matter :" for it is a polite and amiable
practice to make ſome excuſe for ano-
ther, even in thoſe inſtances where
you are convinced he might juſtly be
blamed: nay, though your friend alone
has been miſtaken, yet you ſhould re-
reſent the miſtake as common to you
both: and when you have aſcribed ſome
part of it to yourſelf, then you may
venture to admoniſh or to reprove him
in fome ſuch expreſiions as theſe : “We
are under a very great miſtake here ;"
or, we did not recollect how ive ſettled this
affair yeſterday;" though, perhaps,
it was he alone, and not you, that was
ſo forgetful.
That kind of expreſlions alſo, which
rude people ſometimes make uſe of;
If what you ſay is true, " are
extremely unpolite; for a man's veracity
ought not ſo very ligbely to be called in
queſtion.
Moreover, if any one ſhould happen
to have promiſed you any thing,
which
he
6
ſuch as,
[ 133 ]
he afterwards may not perform, it is not
proper to tell him, “ He has forfeited bis
« word," unleſs, perhaps, you are under
a neceflity of doing ſo, in defence of
your own character; or, if the ſame
perſon ſhould have diſappointed you on
any occaſion, you may ſay: “ You were
$ probably ſo much engaged, that you forgot
" to diſpatch my affair :” or, if he
really forgot it, you ſhould rather fay,
** It was not in your power to do it:" or,
« Perhaps it flip'd your memory," than to
fay, "You thought no more about it." or,
& Vou never troubled your head to fulfil
" pour promife:" for expreffions of this
kind leave a ſting behind them, and are
tinetured (as it were) with the poiſon of
provocation and affront; inſomuch, that
they who frequently make uſe of this
fort of pert reproofs, are accounted rough
and moroſe fellows, and every one will
fhun their company, as he would avoid
running amongſt briars or nettles, for
fear of being ſcratched or ſtung by them.
And
K3
134
$ And becauſe I have known fome
people addicted to a fooliſh and ungenteel
habit; that is, who were ſo very eager
and fond of prating, that they could never
form any one juſt fentiment in their minds,
much leſs expreſs it in proper language ;
but, in their great hurry, would over-run
every thought; like hounds, who, from too
great eagerneſs for the ſport, never catch
their prey: I will, therefore, without fura
ther ceremony, endeavour to explain this
affair to you, though, perhaps, it may
be thought fuperfluous to give you any
admonitions in a cafe ſo obvious to every
one. My advice, then, is this, That
you never begin any kind of diſcourſe
before you have formed, in your mind, a
clear idea of the ſubject you are to dif-
cousſe upon : for thus, your ſpeech will
be like a legitimate and regular birth,
and not an abortion. Now, if you will
vouchſafe to pay a proper regard to this
precept of mine, you will never be ſo
unfortunate, when you pay your compli-
ments
( 135 ]
mients to any one, as to miſtake his.
proper addreſs, or be reduced to a ne-
ceffity of craving his name: neither
will you be forced to ſay, with a fooliſh
laugh, “ Pho, I miſtake ; I ſhould have
jaid ja or fo;" or be obliged to keep
Staminering on, till you can find a pro-
per expreffion; which is attended with
infufferable pain to the company.
You ſhould likewiſe take care, if poſ-
fible, your voice be not rough or hoarſe ;
nor by an horſe laugh, or any other
means, imitate the rattling of a chariot-
wheel; nor ought you to talk when
you are gaping, (as I ſaid before,)
You are ſenſible, indeed, that it is not
in our power to command a ready elocu-
tion, or an agreeable voice; but then,
le that Itammers, or is hoarſe, is not
obliged to prate and be more loquacious
than all the reſt of the company; but
Should rather make amends for the de-
ject in his elocution, by his filence and
attention; though, by proper applica-
tion,
[ 136 ]
7
::
tion, thoſe faults of nature may, in ſome
meaſure, be corrected.
$ It is alſo unpolite to exalt your
voice like a crier, that is publiſhing
ſome proclamation ; as it is, likewiſe, to
ſink it fo low, that you cannot be heard
by any one who liſtens to you , yet, if
your words are not heard the firſt time,
and you are forced, perhaps, on that
account to repeat them; as you ought
not to ſpeak lower the ſecond time, lo
neither ought you to bawl out with
too great vehemence, leit you thould be
thought to be in a paflion, on be-
ing obliged to repeat what you had ſaid
bcfore.
In any continued ſpeech or narration,
your words ought to be fo placed, as the
eaſe of common converſation requires; I
mean, that they thould neither be per-
plexed and intricate, nor too ambi-
tiouſly tranſpoſed, which many are apt to
do, from a certain affectation of ele-
gance; whoſe diſcourſe is more like the
forms
:
( 137 )
S:
.forms of a notary, who is explaining
fome inſtrument to others, in their ver-
nacular tongue, which he has written
ia Latin, than to the ſpeech of one man
talking to another in the language of
their own country. A ſtyle thus tranf-
poſed and perplexed, may ſometimes an-
wer the end of a man that is making
Ferles; but is always ungraceful in a
familiar converſation.
Nor ought we only to abſtain from
this poetical manner of (peaking in com.
mon converſation, but alſo from the
pompous method of thoſe that ſpeak in
public: for, unleſs we obſerve this cau-
tion, our diſcourſe will be diſagreeable,
and extremely diſguſting; though, per-
haps, it is a matter of greater ſkill ta
make thoſe folemn ſpeeches, than to
converſe with a man in private ; but
then, that kind of eloquence muſt be
reſerved for its proper place. A man
ought not to dance, but walk a com-
mon pace along the ſtreet: for though
:
( 138 )
all men can walk, whereas many people
cannot dance ; yet the latter ought to
be reſerved for a wedding, or ſome joy..
ful occafion, and not to be practifed in
the public walks. This way of con-
verfing, then, ſo full of oſtentation,
ought by all means to be avoided.
Nor yet would I have you, for this
reaſon, accuſtom yourſelf to a mean and
abjeet manner of expreſling yourſelf;
fuch as the loweft dregs of the people,
porters, coblers, and laundreſſes uſe;
but rather, that you ſhould imitate the
converſation of a well-bred man, and a
perſon of faſhion. How to accompliſh
which, I have already, in fome mea-
fare, pointed out to you: namely,
Firſt, By never diſcourfing upon low,
frivolous, dirty, or immodeſt ſubjects.
Secondly, By making choice of ſuch
words, in your own language, as are
clear, proper, well-founding, and fuch
as have uſually a good meaning annexed
to them, and do not ſuggeſt to the ima-
gination
( 139 )
gination the idea of any thing baſe;
filthy, or indecent.
Thirdly, By ranging your words in
an elegant order, ſo that they may not
appear confuſed, and jumbled together at
random, nor yet, by too laboured an ex-
actneſs, forced into certain regular feet
and meaſures.
Farther, By taking care to pronounce
carefully and diſtinctly, what you have
to fay; and not join together things en-
tirely different and diſiimilar.
If, moreover, in your diſcourſe, you
are not too ſlow, like a man, who, at a
plentiful table, does not know what to
chufe firft ; nor yet too eager, like a
man half-ſtarved; but if you ſpeak
calmly and deliberately, as a moderate
man ought to do.
Laſtly, if you pronounce each letter
and ſyllable with a proper ſweetneſs, (yet
not like ſome pedagogue, who is teach-
ing children to read and ſpell,) neither
ftifling your words between your teeth,
25
[ 140 ]
* Whatever comes uppermoit.
as if you were chewing them; or hud-
dling them together, as if you were
ſwallowing them. By carefully attend-
ing to theſe precepts then, and a few
more of this kind, others will hear you
gladly and with pleaſure; and you your-
felf will obtain, with applauſe, that
degree of dignity which becomes a well-
bred man, and a gentleman.
$ There are, moreover, many per-
fons who never know when to leave off
prating; and, like a ſhip, which, once put
in motion by the force of the winds, even
when the fails are furled, will not ſtop; fo
theſe loquacious people, being carried on
by a certain impulſe, continue their career;
and, though they have nothing to talk of,
they nevertheleſs proceed; and either in-
culcate over and over again what they
have already faid, or utter at random
There are alſo ſome people, who la-
bour under ſo great and inſatiable an
appetite for talking, that they will inter-
rupt
[ 141 ]
:
1.
mupt others when they are going to
ſpeak : and, as we ſometimes ſee, on a
farmers dunghill in the country, young
chickens fnatching grains of corn out of
each other's little bills; fo theſe peo-
ple catch up the diſcourſe out of the
mouth of another, who has begun ſpeak-
ing, and immediately hold forth them-
ſelves; which is fo provoking to ſome
people, that they would rather inter-
change blows than words with them,
and rather fight with them than con-
verſe with them: for, if you accurately
obſerve the humours of mankind, there
is nothing which ſooner, or more cer-
tainly provokes a man, than the giving
a ſudden check to his deſires and inclina-
tions, even in the moſt trilling affair. As
-if, when you have opened your mouth
to gape, you ſhould have it, on a ſudden,
ſtopped by one that fits next you ; or, if
you ſhould juſt have extended your arm
to throw a ſtone, and a perſon coming
behind you ſhould immediately ſtop it,
when
when you think nothing of the matter.
As therefore there, and many other
methods of diſappointing others of their
intention, even in ſport and by way of
joke, are very diſagreeable, and conſe-
quently to be avoided; fo, with regard
"to talking, it is much better to pro-
mote and humour the inclination of
“others in this reſpect, than to check
them in their career : for which reaſon,
"if you ſee a perfon eagerly bent upon
relating any fact, it is unhandſome in
you to interrupt the narration which he
has begun, and tell him you have heard
it before: or if, in the progreſs of his
little tale, he thould now and then in-
terſperſe a little bit of a lie, you ſhould
not be ſo unpolite as to give him any
hint of it, either by any word or geſ-
ture, or even by nodding your head, or
by looking aſkew, as many people are apt
to do, who pretend they cannot bear the
atrocious baſeneſs of a falſehood, yet this
is ſeldom the real cauſe, but rather the
acrimony
.
T 143]
sau a
acrimony and virulence of their own bad
temper and ruſtic diſpoſition; which ren-
ders them fo four and ungracious in their
mutual intercourfe with mankind, that
every one muſt neceſſarily fhun their
acquaintance.
It is alſo a very diſagreeable practice,
to interrupt a perſon, by any noiſe, in
the midſt of his ſpeech; which, indeed,
muſt give the perſon interrupted much
the ſame pleaſure as it would give you,
if, when you were juſt reaching the
goal in full ſpeed, any one ſhould ſud-
denly draw you-back.
Neither is it conſiſtent with good
manners, when another perſon is ſpeak
sing, that you ſhould contrive, either by
thewing ſomething new, or by calling
the attention of the company another
way, to make him neglected and for-
faken by his audience.
Neither does it become you to diſmiſs
the company, who were not invited by
you, but by fome other perſon.
You
[144 ]
You ought alſo to be attentive, when
any one is talking to you, that you may
not be under a neceſſity of aſking, every
moment, “What do you ſay?" "How
« did you ſay?" under which fault,
indeed, many people labour; when yet
this is not attended with leſs trouble to
the ſpeaker, than if, in walking, he were
every moment to kick his foot againſt a
ftone. All theſe practices, and, in gene-
ral, whatever may check the ſpeaker in
his courſe, whether directly or obliquely,
is carefully to be avoided.
And if any one be ſomewhat flow in
ſpeaking, you ought not to foreſtall him,
or ſupply him with proper words, as if
you alone were rich and he were poor
in
expreſſions ; for many people are apt to
take this ill, thoſe, eſpecially, who have
an opinion of their own eloquence ; and
therefore, they think you do not pay
tbem that deference which they imagine
to be their due, and that you are de-
firous of ſuggeſting hints to them in
that
14.5
that art, in which they fancy themſelves
great proficients like fome merchants,
who think it an affront for any one to
offer to lend them money; as if they
had none of their own, or were poor,
or, at leaſt, ſtood in need of other
people's aſliſtance. And you may take
it for granted, that every one fatters
himſelf, he is able to talk well, though,
through modefty, he may deny it. Nor
can I gueſs at the cauſe, (though it is
certainly fact) why he that knows the
leaſt, ſhould always talk the moſt; which
habit, (I mean of too much loquacity)
it is adviſeable for every well-bred man
to guard againſt; eſpecially if he is con-
ſcious to himſelf of not being poſſeſſed
of any great ſhare of knowledge, and
that not only becauſe it is difficult for one
and the ſame man to talk much, and not
be guilty of many errors, but alſo, becauſe
he who is thus verboſe, ſeems to claim the
fame kind of ſuperiority over thoſe that
hear him, as a maſter does over his ſcholars,
L
It
[ 146 ]
It is unpolite, therefore, for any one to
aſſume to himſelf more than his ſhare
of excellence in this reſpect : to which
fault, not only many particular perſons,
but whole nations are very obnoxious;
prattling and loquacious: and woe be to
thoſe ears, which they have once laid
hold upon, and forced to liſten to their
impertinence.
Taciturnity.
$ Now, as an immoderate loquacity
or love of talking gives diſguft, ſo too
great a taciturnity, or an affected filence,
is very diſagreeable : for, to obſerve an
haughty filence, where others take their
turn in the converſation, ſeems to be
nothing elſe than unwillingneſs to con-
tribute
your
Share to the common enter-
tainment: and as to ſpeak, is to open
your mind, as it were, to thoſe that hear
you; he, on the contrary, who is en-
tirely filent, feems to fhun all acquaint-
ance
[ 147 ]
ance with the reſt of the company.
Wherefore, as thoſe people, who, at
their entertainments on any joyful occa-
fion, drink freely, and perhaps get
drunk, love to get rid of people who
will not drink; fo no one deſires to ſee
theſe filent gentry in their chearful,
friendly meetings : the moſt agreeable
ſociety, therefore, is that where every
one is at liberty to ſpeak or keep filence
in his turn.
L 2
SECTION
:
( 148 )
SECTION
ст
IIL.
Polycletus's Modelo
THI
HERE was formerly in Pelopon-
neſus (as appears from ancient hi-
tory) an excellent man and a ſtatuary, who
(on account of his great fame, as I ina-
gine,) was called Polycletus; that is, the
much-celebrated artiſt. This man, at a very
advanced age, compoſed a ſmall treatiſe,
in which he compriſed all the precepts
of that art, in which he himſelf was ſo
thoroughly ſkilled. Demonſtrating in that
work, how the ſeveral members of the
human body were to be meaſured, each
of them ſeparately, or conſidered in rela-
tion to each other, ſo that they might
mutually correſpond in proper ſymmetry
and proportics. This volume of his he
* At Sicyon. Plin. Ælian,
called
[ 149 ]
called the Canon or Rule; intimating,
that according to this model, as a kind of
law, all ſtatues that ſhould hereafter be
made by other ſculptors, ought to be
tried, and to conform : in like manner as,
in architecture, the beams, the ſtones
and walls of an houfe are alſo examined
by fixed rule. But as it is much eaſier
to ſay than to do, to give precepts than
to execute them; and beſides, as the
greater part of mankind, and eſpecially
the illiterate, are always guided more by
their external ſenſes, than by their minds
and underſtandings ; and therefore more
eaſily comprehend fingle objects and ex-
amples, than univerſal propoſitions, fyllo-
giſms, and refined reaſonings ; therefore,
the aforeſaid excellent ſculptor, having re-
gard to the uſual genius of artiſts, not ſuffi-
ciently adapted to underſtand general pre
cepts, and at the ſame time more illuſtri-
ouſly to diſplay his own excellence in that
reſpect, looked out for a block of the
beſt marble; of which, after long applica-
tion,
3
L 3
[ 150 ]
:
܀
:
tion, he formed a ſtatue, with that fym.
metry of the different members amongſt
themſelves, and with that perfection in
all its parts, which he had before ex-
plained by the precepts laid down in his
book; and as he had before called his
book, ſo he now called this ſtatue alſo,
his Canon, Rule, or Model.
Now, I would to God, that, of thoſe
two articles, cach of which
which this
noble artiſt obtained in ſo great perfec-
tion, one only had fallen to my lot; I
mean, that I could but compriſe in this
little treatiſe of mine, that juſt meaſure
or model of the art which I undertake
I
to deliver : for, as to the other article,
that I might be able to ſet before your
eyes, in my own perſon, and in my be-
haviour, an idea or example, which
might perfectly correſpond with the
pre-
cepts now delivered ; this, I ſay, it
will, probably, never be in my power
hereafter to exhibit: ſince, in thoſe things
which tend to form the manners of
5
men,
[ 151 )
men, it is not fufficient merely to have
a knowledge of the affair, and a certain
rule to direct us; but it is further necef-
ſary to repreſent them to us by adion
and daily practice: a thing which cannot
be accompliſhed in a moment, as it were,
or in a ſhort ſpace of time, but many,
very many years, of which a very few
(as you may perceive) are now left me,
are requifite for this purpoſe. Nor yet,
upon this account, ought you to give
the leſs credit to theſe precepts of mine:
for any man may eaſily point out that
road to another, in travelling which he
himſelf has loſt his way; nay, thoſe who
have gone wrong themſelves, have, per-
haps, more accurately obſerved, and re-
tain in their memory thoſe perplexing and
dubious turnings and croſs-roads, than
any other man, who has always kept the
right track and the king's highway.
But if, in my childhood, when the
mind is yet tender and flexible, thoſe who
had the care of my education, had
known
L 4
[ 152 ]
known how properly to have bent, fofer
ened, and poliſhed my manners, which,
perhaps, were naturally fomewhat harſh,
stubborn, and rough; I ſhould probably
have come forth from their diſcipline
ſuch as at this time I endeavour to make
you; who are no leſs dear to me than
if you were my own fon: for though
the force of nature is very great, yet
that is nevertheleſs frequently ſubdued,
or at leaſt corrected, by cuſtom and ex-
ercife. But this diſcipline, by which the
faults of nature are oppoſed, muſt com-
mence as foon as poffible; and thofe
vices must be checked before their
ftrength and power has gained too great
a prevalence; which is what few people
fufficiently attend to: ſo far from it, that
when, from the impulſe of their appetites
and paſſions, they have declined from
the right path, and, without the leaft
attempt to rehit them, follow wherever
they lead, yet they fancy they are obey
ing the diétates of nature; as if, forſooth,
reaſon
[ 153 ]
reaſon was not alſo natural to man:
whereas right reaſon poſſeſſes the pow-
er, as miſtreſs and our fovereign, of
changing our manners and corrupt ha-
bits, and of affifting nature herſelf,
whenever ſhe makes a flip, or declines
from the right path. But, for the moſt
part, we refufe to liſten to reaſon, and
by that means become like thoſe brutes
to whom God has not granted the uſe of
it ; amongſt whom, however, reaſon
does a great deal, not indeed their own
reaſon, (of which they are evidently
deſtitute) but ours: as you may obſerve
in horſes, which are generally, or rather
always, naturally wild and unmanage-
able; and yet the groom renders them not
only tame and gentle, but, what is more,
even learned, as it were, and well-bred :
for there are many horſes that would
naturally be hard trotters, which he, by
training, brings to be good pacers : nay,
he will teach many horſes, in like manner,
ſometimes to ſtop, then to run on, to
wheel
[ 154 ]
fubmit to the reaſon of others, and are
wheel about in a circle, and to curvet ;
and you yourſelf very well know, that
horſes will learn all theſe ſeveral arts
If horſes then, dogs, hawks, and many
other animals more fierce than theſe,
.::
obedient to them; learn thoſe things
which they are naturally ignorant of ;
and, as far as their condition will admit,
become, in fome meaſure, knowing, and
endued with virtues, (not indeed natu-
rally, but by mere habit) how much
better, (it is probable) fhould we be, if
we gave an attentive ear to the dictates
of reaſon, which is proper to our na-
ture! But our ſenſual appetites are fond
of preſent pleaſure, of whatever kind it
is, and are averſe to all pain and uneafi-
neſs, and impatient to get rid of it; and
therefore they fly from reaſon, which
is troubleſome to them, becauſe ſhe does
not always conſult for their pleaſures,
(which are frequently pernicious) but for
their honour and virtue, which is often
attended
[ 155 ]
to
attended with ſome diſagreeable and bit-
ter reliſh, eſpecially to thoſe whoſe taſte
is vitiated by indulgence. For, as we
live in this world a mere ſenſual life, we
are like ſome poor fick creature,
whom every kind of food, however
ſweet or delicate, appears too falt or too
bitter; and therefore he is continually
chiding his nurſe or his cook; who, in
this caſe, are evidently blameleſs; for
the bitterneſs is not in the food, but in
his own palate; and is to be aſcribed to
the foulneſs of the tongue, which is the
inſtrument of taſte. Thus, right reaſon,
which is in itſelf highly agreeable, ap-
pears diſtaſteful to us ; not from its own
nature, but from our vitiated palates ;
and therefore, like too tender and too
delicate people, we refuſe to taſte it;
and we often conceal our own baſeneſs
in words like theſe : “ That nature will
not admit either of a ſpur or of a bridle,
to be quickened in her pace, or checked
in her career; and therefore ſhould be
permitted
( 156 )
permitted freely to range, wherever in-
Itinct may carry her."
But really neither an ox or an aſs, or
even an bog, if he had the gift of ſpeech,
could make (I am convinced) a more
abſurd or ignominious declaration : for
certainly we ſhould be mere children,
when we were grown up to manhood,
nay, even in our moſt decrepit old age;
and fhould give ourſelves up to the moſt
vain and trifling follies, no leſs in our
grey hairs than in our infancy; unleſs
reaſon, which increaſing together with
our years, and now arrived at maturity,
transformed us, as it were, from brutes
into men, ſo as to exerciſe her full force
and power over our ſenſual appetites.
And if, at any time, we tranſgreſs the
bounds of virtue in our life and manners,
that is not to be attributed ſo much to
nature, as to our own wickedneſs and
degeneracy.
Which being ſo, it is not true, that
we are not furniſhed with reins, or a
proper
( 157 )
proper guide againſt the impetuoſity
of our nature: for we have two; one
of which is Experience, and the other
right Reaſon. But, as I ſaid juft be-
fore, reaſon cannot make a good moral
man of an immoral one, without exer-
ciſe or practice; which time alone can
produce.
Wherefore, we ought to begin early
to liſten to reaſon; not only that, by
this means, a man will have more time
to become ſuch as reaſon preſcribes, and
ſo will become a ſort of domeſtic or fa-
miliar friend of virtue ; but alſo, becauſe
our tender age, yet unftained by any
vice, will more eaſily admit of, and
imbibe any colour we pleaſe. And ac-
cordingly, thoſe things to which any one
has been accuſtomed from his tender
years, generally pleaſe him more and
more every day. And it was for a reaſon
of this kind, they fay, that one * Theo-
dorus, a famous tragedian, chofe always
Ariſtot, Polit. lib. 7.
to
[ 158 ]
to appear the firſt upon the ſtage in re-
preſenting any of his plays, though he
knew that ſome other poor actor, and a
man of no reputation, were intended to
ſpeak before him: for he imagined, that
the ſpectators, being now familiarized to,
and inclined to favour him whom they
first heard, would not eaſily approve of
any other, though really more
ex
cellent.
Now, fince, for the reaſon above-
mentioned, I cannot effect it, that my
behaviour ſhould exactly correſpond with
my precepts; that which Polycletus did,
who was able actually to perform what
he taught; it will be ſufficient for me to
have told you, in fome meaſure, what
ought to be done, though I cannot my-
ſelf expreſs it by my actions. But as
we know, from the appearance of dark-
neſs, what light is, and from filence, we
perceive what its oppoſite, ſound, is; ſo
you, by obſerving theſe ungraceful, and
it were obſcure manners of mine,
:
as
may
:
[ 159 ]
may collect what grace and ſplendor
there is in a contrary behaviour.
To return, then, to our firſt propoſed
ſubject, which I now bring towards a
concluſion. I ſay, that elegant and
agreeable manners are ſuch as affect with
delight ſome one of our ſenſes; or, at
leaft, do not ſhock or offend either the
fenſes, the inſtincts, or the imaginations
of thoſe with whom we live and con-
verſe : and thus far we have confined our
diſcourſe to things of that kind.
Of Beauty and Grace.
But we may obſerve further, (as con-
nected with our ſubject) that men are
naturally fond of beauty, grace, and
proportion ; and, on the contrary, are
evidently ſhocked at, and have an aver-
fion to whatever is ugly, monſtrous, and
deformed. And, indeed, this is a pri-
vilege peculiar to mankind; for other
animals are not capable of underſtanding
what
[160]
what beauty and proportion are. We
ought, therefore, highly to eſteem and
value this privilege; which is not com-
mon to us with brute creatures, but
appropriated to human kind. And this
ſeems much more to be required of men,
diſtinguiſhed by ſuperior intelligence, as
thoſe who are better qualified to con-
template the charms of beauty. Now,
though it may be difficult to explain,
with preciſion, what beauty is; yet,
that you may be furniſhed with fome
mark or criterion of its general nature,
you muſt obſerve, that wherever there
is a ſymmetry or proportion of the parts
amongſt each other, and of the parts to the
whole, there alſo is beauty * And thoſe
things
• In this ſtyle philoſophers, painters, and fta-
tuaries have talked, from Plato's time to this day.
And though Mr. Burke will not allow propor-
tion to have any thing to do with beauty; and
one is inclined to ſubmit implicitly to fo elegant
and philoſophical a writer; yet he ought, per-
hans, to have allowed different ſpecies of beauty,
He
:
( 161 )
2
things in which this fymmetry is found,
we may truly call beautiful: and there
fore, as I formerly learned from a gentle-
man of diſtinguiſhed erudition and ex-
tenſive knowledge, beauty depends, in a
great meaſure, upon unity and fimpli-
city; whereas deformity, on the con-
trary, comprehends things of a different
and heterogeneous nature : as in the face
of a beautiful and elegant young lady,
where we obſerve that every thing is ſo
formed and diſpoſed, as to ſeem created,
as it were, on purpoſe for that face alone;
the contrary to which is obſervable in a
deformed face : for, ſuppoſe a young lady
to have large and ſparkling eyes, a ſmall
noſe, inflated cheeks, and a diſtorted
mouth, a prominent chin, and a tawny
He confines it to “ that quality in bodies by which
" they cauſe love." I ſhould rather think, “ by
* which they pleaſe." The beauty of a column
oertainly conſiſts in proportion, though the beauty,
of a lady may confift in the quality aſſigned by
Burke.
M
complexion ;
1 102 )
complexion; fuch a figure would apo
pear not to bave the face of any one
ſingle woman; but one compounded of
the features of many different faces,
* You will find alſo fome women, who
may have every part of their perſons,
ſeparately confidered, extremely beauti-
ful, and yet, altogether, compared with
each other, may be very diſagreeable,
and even deformed; for no other reaſon,
but becauſe thoſe parts, fo beautiful
taken fingly, belong not to that one wo.
man, but are taken from ſeveral different
women, though, perhaps, of excellent
beauty; fo that one feature ſeems bor-
rowed from one woman, and another
from another.
And perhaps that celebrated painter
when he ſtudied the naked charms of
thoſe Calabrian girls, did nothing more
than ftudy the parts of a beautiful body
in many different fubjecis ; one of which
3
* Zeuxis: Cia. de Invent. Kb. 20
might
(
163 ]
might ſeem to have borrowed one limb,
and another another, from fome one wo
man of perfect beauty : for, if he could fo
manage it, as that every one might re-
ſtore the part which fhe had borrowed,
and he could again harmonize and re-
unite among themſelves all thofe ſeveral
parts thus reſtored, ſo as to form one
complete perſon ; ſuch a woman, he
imagined, muft equal even Helen her-
felf in beauty.
Nor would I have you think this is
the cafe only in the face and members of
a heman body for the ſame thing
comes to paſs in our converſation, and
in the common actions of life. As, if
, you ſhould ſee ſome lady of quality,
richly dreſſed, waſhing her kitchen fur-
niture at the brook in the public ftreet;
though ſhe herſelf were evidently in a
different ſtyle, yet ſhe would diſpleaſe
you in this reſpect, that ſhe preſented to
the imagination the idea of an incon-
Siſtent charader: for the herſelf would
M2
really
( 164 ) ]
really be the ſame noble and elegant
lady ; but the work ſhe was engaged in
would be more proper for fome dirty
drab of Plebeian ranknot that the
light would be any ways offenſive to any
of the ſenſes, or contrary to any ratu-
ral inſtinct or deſire ; but its being con
trary to the cuſtom of the world, and
an action inconſiſtent with the quality
of the perſon, would, of itſelf, difguſt
you.
It is, therefore, very proper to guard
againſt theſe unſuitable and uncouth
practices, with equal or even greater
care than againſt thoſe which I have
already mentioned ; fince it is much leſs
difficult to know when we offend in
thoſe actions which are the objects of
our ſenſes, than in thoſe which are
judged of by the intellectual faculty. Yet,
it may often happen, that the ſame thing
which offends the ſenſes, may alſo ſhock
the underſtanding, though not for the
fame reaſon, The inſtance which I
mentioned
.
:
.
[ 165 ]
mentioned to you above, when I ob-
ſerved, that every one ought to dreſs in
the ſame faſhion that others do at pre-
ſent, that he may not feem willing to
condemn or to reform the reſt of the
world: which fingularity is not only
oppoſite to the natural deſire of many
people, who are ambitious of praiſe ;
but alſo diſpleafing to the judgment of
intelligent perſons : for the dreſs of an
age, a thouſand years prior to that we
live in, cannot be ſuitable to people of
the preſent age.
Thoſe people alſo are offenſive and
diſagreeable to others, who dreſs like
grooms or coachmen; in fo awkward a
manner, that their waiſtcoat and breeches
feem to be at variance, and to have no
connection with each other, ſo very ill
are they fitted to their perſons.
There are many other things above-
mentioned, which might properly enough
be here repeated, in which that meaſure
and proportion we are now treating of,
M
is
( 166 )
.
is not obſerved, and in which neither
time or place, perſons or things are
properly adjuſted or fuited to each other :
for, from thoſe circumſtances alſo, the
minds of men receive great pleaſure and
fatisfaction. But I choſe rather to join
them together there, and range them
under the banner of the fenfes and
appetites, than aſiign them alſo to the in-
tellect; that they might be more generally
diſtinguiſhed by all ranks of people: for
every one is capable of perceiving what
is agreeable to his ſenſes or appetites;
but it is not every one that is capable of
underſtanding univerſal or abſtracted
ideas; and this in particular, which
we call fometimes Beauty, ſometimes
Proportion, and fometimes Grace.
Wherefore, we muſt not think it faf-
ficient that we do any thing merely
well; but we ought to make it our ſtudy
to do every thing gracefully * alfo.
* « The wiſer fort ſhould keep before em
" A grace, a manner, a decorom,” FRIOR,
7
Now,
( 167" )
every
Now, grace is nothing more than a
certain luftre, which ſhines forth from
an harmony of the parts of things, pro-
perly connected and elegantly diſpoſed
in regard to the whole without which
fymmetry, indeed, what is really good,
may not be beautiful
be beautiful; and without
which, even beauty itſelf is not grace
ful or even pleaſing, And as a diſh, how-
ever good or wholeſome, is not likely to
pleaſe our gueſts, if it has either no fa-
vour at all, or a bad one. thus the
behaviour of men, though it really of
fend no one, may, nevertheleſs, be in-
fipid, and even diſtaſteful, unleſs a man
can learn that ſweetneſs of manners ;
which, I apprehend, is properly called
Elegance and Grace.
indeed, on its own account, and with-
out any other cauſe, to be eſteemed ex-
tremely odious, for vice is a thing fo.
very ſhocking and unbecoming a gentle-
man, that every well-regulated and vir-
M4
tuous
[168]
tuous mind muſt feel pain and diſguſt at
the ignominious appearance of it. He,
therefore, that is deſirous of appearing
* amiable in his converſation with man-
kind, ought, above all things, to ſhun
every kind of vice : thoſe eſpecially
which are the moſt ſhameful and baſe;
ſuch as luxury, avarice, cruelty, and the
like: of which ſome are evidently vile
and abject ; ſuch as gluttony and drun-
kenneſs.: ſome filthy and obſcene ; ſuch
as lewdneſs : fome ſhockingly wicked
as murder, and ſo of the reſt. Every
one of which is, in its own nature,
ſome more fome leſs, peculiarly odi-
ous and deteftable to others. Now all
theſe vices in general, as things ſcan-
dalous and unlawful, render a man tho-
roughly diſagreeable in common life, as
I have ſhewn above.
But, as it is not my preſent intention
to inſtruct you in the nature of Aagitious
crimes, but only of the errors and foibles
of mankind, I need not be folicitous to
$
diſcourſe
( 169 )
diſcourfe on the nature of virtue and
vice; but only of that polite and unpo-
lite behaviour which we make uſe of in
our mutual intercourſe with each other.
Now, amongſt thoſe unpolite habits,
that of Count Richard, above-men-
tioned, was not the leaſt conſiderable ;
which, as having ſomething of defor-
mity in it, and being diffonant to his
other agreeable and elegant manners, that
excellent Prelate, like a ſkilful muſician
in regard to a diſcordant fympbony,
immediately remarked.
It is highly becoming a well-bred man,
then, to have a conſtant regard to this
elegance and harmony of manners, which
I have mentioned, whether in walking,
in ſtanding, or in fitting, in his actions,
in his dreſs, and the ornaments of his
perſon; in his diſcourſe, and in his
filence; in his hours of leiſure, and in
his buſineſs.
For neither ought a man to deck and
adorn himſelf like a lady; that his
perſon
$
:
[170]
perſon and his decorations may not be
tray any inconfiftency; which thofe
people are guilty of, who have their
hair and their beards criſped up with hot
irons, and their faces, necks, and hands
ſo immoderately powdered, painted, and
poliſhed up, to a degree that woald be
* indecent even in a young lady of cha...
racter; and would better become fome
mercenary proſtitute, eager to fet off her
charms, and to diſpoſe of them to the
beſt advantage.
You qught to make it your care, like-
wiſe, neither to ſmell too ſweet, nor the
contrary; for a gentleman ought neither
to be offenſive, like a he-goat, nor per-
fumed, like a civet-cat. Not that I think
it at all unbecoming a young gentle-
man of your age, occaſionally to make
uſe of ſome ſimple cliences or odorife-
rous waters.
Let your dreſs (for the reaſons above.
mentioned) be conformable to the cof-
toms of the age you live in, and ſuit-
able
:
( 171
171]
able to your condition : for it is not in
our power to alter the general faſhions
at our pleaſure, which, as they are
produced, ſo they are ſwallowed up by
time. In the mean white, every one
may make ſhift to accommodate the ge-
neral faſhion to his own particular con-
venience, as the caſe may require.
Thus, (for inſtance) if you happen to:
have longer legs than the reſt of man-
kind, and ſhort coats are in vogue, you
may take care that your coat be not the
very ſhorteſt; but rather ſomewhat leſs
fhort than the extremity of the faſhion,
requires : or, if any one has either too
dender, or too fleſhy, or even diſtorted
legs, let not ſuch a one diſtinguiſh himſelf
by ſtockings of a ſcarlet, or any other
very conſpicuous colour, that he may not
attract the notice of cthers to his
defeats.
No part of your dreſs ought to be
either too ſplendid, or enormouſly fringed
or laced, left, perhaps, you ſhould be
ſaid
( 172]
faid to have ſtolen Cupid's mantle, or the
bufkins of Ganymede.
But whatever your cloaths are, take
care that they be well made ; that they
fit with a grace, and be fitted to your
perfon; that you inay not appear to have
borrowed them of a friend, or hired
them for the day : but above all things,
they ſhould be ſuited to your rank and
profeſſion; that a ſcholar be not dreſſed
like a ſoldier, or an officer like a buf-
foon or a dancing-mafter.
Caftrucio, the celebrated General of
the Lucheſe and Piſtoians, Count Pala-
tine, and a Roman ſenator, being receiv-
ed at Rome, together with * Lewis of
Bavaria, with great ceremony and re-
ſpect, in order to diſplay, to the beſt ad-
vantage, his ſplendor and magnificence,
he appeared in a ſuit of velvet of a moſt
glaring purple ; on the fore-part of
which was embroidered, in letters of
Choren Cæſar, 1314.
gold,
[ 173 ]
gold, this motto, “ He is as it pleaſes
6 God;" and on the back, this motto, in
letters of the ſame materials, “ And as
" it pleaſes God he will be." Which
kind of coat, (as you, Sir, I am per-
fuaded, muft judge) would better have
become the trumpeter of Caftrucio, than
Caftrucio himſelf* And however kings
may fancy themſelves exempted from all
laws, I can by no means venture to
commend, in this reſpect, Manfredi,
King of Naples, who always appeared
in a green robe.
He was a foundling ; but by his courage and
conduct, raiſed himſelf to the ſovereignty of all
Tuſcany. He died about 1328. He was a man
of wit as well as valour. Seeing a young man
blush on coming out of a houſe of ill-fame ;
« Friend," ſays he, « you need not be aſhamed
at coming out of ſuch an houſe, but of going
“ in,”-A friend intimating to him, that his
dancing at a ball would diminiſh from the reve-
rence due to his character, he ſaid, “ He that
“ is reckoned wiſe all the day, will never be
reckoned a fool at night."
We
(
174 )
We ought, therefore, to uſe our con
Atant endeavours, that our dreſs may not
only be fitted to our perſons, but ſuited
alſo to the condition of the wearer, and
to the country where we ufually refide :
for, as in different countries there are
different weights and meaſures, and yet
fales, purchaſes, and traffic are every
where carried on; ſo in different coun-
tries there are different faſhions, which,
in every place, any one may make uſe
of, and prudently accommodate himſelf
to them. The plumes of feathers which
wave on the heads of the Neapolitan
and Spaniſh nobility, their ceremonies,
ſolemn compliments, and embroidered
cloaths, would ſuit but ill with the habit
of men in trading cities, or in the
ſchools; much leſs could their ſwords
and their armour be admitted amongſt
them. In like manner, what would be
proper enough, in this reſpect, at Verona,
would be very unbecoming and improper
at Venice; for theſe embroidered, plume-
dreſſed,
I 175
)
4
dreſled *, warlike gentry, would by no
means ſuit with the venerable, pacific,
and decent city of the Venetians. So
far from it, that they would appear like
nettles or bur-docks in an elegant garden,
planted with the choiceft herbs and
flowers. For which reaſon, alſo, they are
never very acceptable company in any
affembly of perſons of true nobility; as
they appear almoft of a different form
from the reſt of mankind.
Gait or Motion
A gentleman ought not to run, or
walk in too great a hurry along the
Ireets; for it is beneath the dignity of
a perſon of any rank, and more becom-
ing a running-footman or a poſt-boy
beſides that, in running, a man appears
fatigued, perſpires freely, and puffs and
* The author ſeems to ſpeak with particular
(pleen againſt theſe embroidered, feathered fops.
blows;
:
.
( 176 )
blows; all which are miſbecoming a
man of any conſequence.
e Nor yet ought our pace to be ſo very
flow and tortoiſe-like, nor fo ſtately and
affected, like that of ſome lady of qua-
lity, or a bride.
To ſtagger, likewiſe, on totter about
as we walk, and to ſtretch ourſelves
out, as it were, with monſtrous ſtrides,
is fooliſh and ridiculous.
Neither ought your hands to hang
dangling down; nor yet your arms to be
projected or tolled backwards and for-
wards, like a plowman that is ſowing
:
his corn.
Neither ſhould you ſtare a man in the
face, whom you meet, with your eyes
fixed upon him, as if you ſaw ſome-
thing to wonder at in his appearance.
There are ſome people, likewiſe, who
walk like a tiinorous or blind horſe,
lifting up their legs fo high, as if they
were drawing them out of a buſhel :
and ſome who ſtamp their feet with great
violence
( 177 )
at you
$
violence againſt the ground, and with a
noile hardly exceeded by the rumbling of
a waggon. One man throws his feet
out obliquely, as if he were kicking
;
this man knocks one knee
againſt the other, or perhaps ſtoops
down at every ſtep to pull up his ftock-
ings. There are ſome, who, by an in-
decent motion of their rumps, have an
unequal kind of gait, like the waddling
of a duck*; all which things, though not
of much conſequence, yet, being ſome-
what awkward and ungenteel, uſually
diſpleaſe.
For fuppoſe you had an horſe,
which had ſome defect in his mouth, ſo
that his tongue hung oddly out; though
that circumitance might detract nothing,
perhaps, from his real goodneſs, yet he
Italy having been ſo long harraſſed by civil
wars, did not, probably, abound in dancing.
maſters at this time, who would have regulated
theſe matters, as well as his Grace of Bene-
vento.
N
would
178 ]
would otherwiſe have been more valu.
able ; and you would tell him at a much
Jeſs price on that account, not becauſe
he was leſs fpirited or courageous, but
leſs elegant and leſs handſome for that
defect. If, therefore, in brute animals,
nay, even in things void of life or fen-
fation, grace and elegance are ſo much
prized (as we often ſee two houfes,
equally well-built and well-furniſhed,
one of which all yet be more falcable,
and at a greator price, if it has a fym-
metry and proportion which the other
wants) how much more ought this grace
and elegance to be ſtudied and eſteemed
amongſt mankind !
Behaviour at Table
$ It is very rude, when at table, to
feratch any part of your body.
You ought to take care, alſo, if poſ-
ſible, not to ſpit during that time ; or,
if
( 179 )
if you are under a neceffity of doing it,
it ought to be done in ſome decent man-
ner. I have ſometimes heard, that there
were whole nations * formerly, ſo tem-
perate, and of fo dry an habit of body,
from frequent exerciſe, that they never
fpit or blew their noſes on any occaſion,
Why cannot we, therefore, contain out
(pittle for fo ſhort a ſpace of time, at
leaſt, as is ſpent at our meals ?
We Ahould likewiſe be careful not to
cram in our food fo greedily, and with
o voracious an appetite, as to cauſe us
to hickup, or to be guilty of any thing
elle that may offend the eyes or the
ears of the company, which they do,
who eat in fuch an hurry, as, by their
puiling and blowing, to be very trouble
fome to thoſe who hit near them.
It is alſo very indecent to rub your
teeth with the table-cloth or napkin ;
and to endeavour to pick them with your
finger is more fo.
* Xenoph. Cyropsed.
Ix
* :
N 2
[ 180 ]
--
In the preſence alſo of others, to waſh
your mouth, and to ſquirt out the wine
with which you have performed that ope-
ration, is very unpolite:
When the table is cleared, to carry
about your tooth-pick in your mouth,
like a bird going to build his neft, or to
ſtick it behind your car, as a barber does
his comb, is no very genteel cuftom.
They alſo are undoubtedly miſtaken
in their notions of politeneſs, who carry
their tooth-pick caſes hanging * down
from their necks : for, beſides that it is
an odd fight for a gentleman to produce
any thing of that kind from his bofom,
like ſome ftrolling pedlar, this incon-
venience muſt alſo follow from ſuch a
practice, that he who acts thus, diſco-
vers that he is but too well furniſhed with
every inſtrument of luxury, and too
anxious about every thing that relates to
...1..
:
* We ſee in the pictures of Chaucer, (who
had been much in Italy) a pen-knife, (if I
miſtake not) hanging in this mannen
the
[ 181 )
:.
:
the belly: and I can ſee no reaſon why
the ſame perſons might not as well dif-
play a filver ſpoon hanging about their
necks.
To lean with your elbows upon the
table, or to fill both your cheeks ſo fully
that your jaws ſeem (welled, is by no
means agreeable.
Neither ought you, by any token or
geſture, to diſcover, that you take too
great pleaſure in any kind of food or
wine; wbich is a cuſtom more proper
for inn-keepers and paraſites.
To invite thoſe who fit at table with
you to cat, by expreffions of this kind:
* What! have you proclaimed a faf to-
"day"?" or, Perhaps here is nothing at
** table you can make a dinner of:' or,
** Pray, Sir, tafta this or this di b." Thus
to invite people, I ſay, is by no means
* laudable cuſtom, though now become
familiar to almoſt every one, and prac-
tiſed in every family: for though theſe
officious people fhew, that the perſon
N3
whom
( 182 )
2
whom they thus invite is really the eb:
jeet of their care ; yet they give occaſion,
by this means, to the perſon invited, to
be leſs free in his behaviour, and make
him bluſh at the thought of being the
ſubject of obfervation.
For any one to take upon him to help
another to any thing that is ſet upon the
table, I do not think very polite ; unleſs,
perhaps, the perſon who does this is of
much ſuperior dignity, ſo that he who
receives it is honoured by the offer:
for, if this be done amongft equals, he
that offers any thing to another, appears,
in fome meaſure, to affect a fuperiority
over him : fometimes too, what is of
fered may not be agreeable to the pa-
Jate of another. Beſides, a man, by this
means, feems to intimate, that the en-
tertainment is not very liberally furniſh-
ed out; or, at leaſt, that the diſhes are
placed in a prepoſterous order, when
one abounds and another wants. And
it is poſſible that the perſon who gives
the
( 183 )
:
young gentleman of a
the entertainment may not be very well
pleafed with fucha freedom. Never-
theleſs, in this refpect, we ought rather
to do what is uſually done, than what we
may think would be better done: for, it
is more adviſeable, in caſes of this na-
ture, to err with the multitude, than to
be fingular even in a&ting rightly. But
whatever may be proper or improper in
this reſpect, you ſhould never refuſe any
thing that is offered you; for you will
be thought either to deſpiſe or to reprove
To drink to any one, and teaze him
to pledge you in larger glaſlesy againſt
his inclination, is in itſelf an execrable
cultom; which, however, has ſo far
prevailed, as to appear impoſſible, almoſt
ever to be abolished. But you, my
liberal education, will, I am perſuaded,
gladly abſtain from this vile practice;
though, if you ſhould be urged by others,
and cannot entirely reſiſt their importu-
N
nity,
:
[ 184 ]
nity, you may thank them, and ſay, that
you willingly yield then the victory; or,
without taking a larger draught, you
may lightly taſte what is preſented to
you.
And indeed this cuſtom of drink .
ing healths is ſufficiently ancient; and
was formerly much practiſed in Greece
itſelf : for * Socrates is highly applauded
by ſome writers, that after ſpending the
whole night in drinking largely with
Ariſtophanes, as ſoon as it was light in
the morning, he would delineate and de-
monſtrate any the moſt ſubtle geometri-
cal problem, without the leaſt hefita-
tion; an evident proof, indeed, that the
wine had not yet done him any injury;
but this is rather to be aſcribed to the
ſtrength of his brain, and to a good conſti-
tution, than to the temperance of a phi-
lofopher. Yet, from this inſtance, and
other frivolous arguments, ſome people
• Plato Symp
have
( 185 )
3
30
have endeavoured to prove the expedi-
ency of drinking freely ſometimes ;
though I can by no means affent to their
opinion; notwithſtanding that, by a
pompous parade of words, fome learned
men have ſo managed it, that an unjuſt
cauſe has often gained the victory, and
reaſon ſubmitted to ſophiſtry and chicane.
But to return to our ſubject.
No one, (as I hinted before) ought to
fhift any part of his dreſs; particularly,
to put off a ſtocking, or the like, be-
fore genteel company : for theſe things
are evidently indecent; and no man of
any modefty would diſcover any part of
his perfon before others, which either
nature or cuſtom has uſually concealed.
Nor ought we to comb our hair or
walh our hands before company; for
theſe things are more properly done in
our drefling-room than in public; ex-
cept the uſual waſhing of our hands be-
fore dinner or ſupper ; for, on thoſe oc-
caſions,
though you ſhould think it really
unneceſſary,
( 186 )
anneceſſary, you ought to waſh in fight
of the company, that he who dips in the
fame diſh with you, may be certain that
your hands are clean *
Nor ought you to come into the pre-
fence of others in your night-cap; nor
yet to trufs up your points † in their
fight.
There are others who have an habit
of diftending their jaws every moment,
twiſting in their eyes, inflating their
cheeks, puffing, blowing, and many
other inelegant ways of disfiguring their
faces; from which, if they at all ſtudied
what was becoming, they would entirely
abſtain. For Pallas herſelf, as the poets
feign, uſed fometimes to amuſe herſelf
with playing upon the pipe; in which
ſhe was arrived at no common degree of
excellence; but as ſhe was one day very
* This ſeems odd only from the difference of
our manners.
+ Literally, to tie up your breaches to your
waiſtcoat.
5
intent
[ 187 ]
intent upon her amuſement, the ſtrolled
to a fountain ; where, furveying herſelf
in the liquid mirror, and obſerving the
Strange and monſtrous appearance of her
countenance, the bluſhed, and immedi-
ately threw away her pipe * : nor indeed
without very good reaſon ; for theſe kind
of wind-inftruments are not fit for
a lady, nor indeed for a gentleman ;
but for the lower fort of people, who,
through neceffity, are obliged to practiſe
it as a profeffion.
What is here said of this inelegant
diſtortion of the face, is applicable to
every other part of the human body. It
is ungenteel to be continually thruſting
out your tongue, or twiſting up your
beard, as many do; to fmack your fins
gers or rub your hands; "to elaborate a
figh,” with a peculiarly doleful ſound,
(like people in a fever) which many
people are guilty of; or to affect a ſud.
Ovid. Faft 1.6, &c.
den
( 188 )
]
,
den ſhivering over your whole body; or
to bawl out when you are gaping, like
a country fellow that has been ſleeping
in a hay-loft.
He alſo who, either in token of ad-
particular kind of noiſe with his mouth,
exhibits an idea of deformity, as you
yourſelf obſerve ; and theſe things, which
are thus expreſſed by figns, differ but
little from the things themſelves *.
We ought alſo to abſtain from a
foolith, ruftic, and inſipid horſe-laugh:
neither ſhould we laugh, merely becauſe
we have contracted a filly habit of
laughing, perhaps, rather than from any
neceſſity there is for it: nor ought you
ever to laugh at any joke or ſmart ſaying
of your own; for you will be thought
to applaud your own wit. It belongs
to the company, and not to him who
* It is not eaſy to gueſs what the author here
alludes to.
ſays
( 189 )
1.
fays a good thing, to expreſs their ap.
probation by a laugh.
I ſhall add to theſe remarks on beauty
and grace, that we fhould obſerve what
kind of geſtures or motions of the body
we make uſe of, eſpecially when we
are talking to any one; for it frequently
happens, that a man is fo intent upon
the ſubject of the converſation, as to pay
little regard to what we are now treating
of. Hence one man ſeems to totter with
ms head, as if he were drunk : another
looks at the perſon he is talking to with
his eyes afkew; one eye-brow cocked
up to his fore-head, the other funk dowry
to his chin. This man diftorts his mouth
into various forms; another ſputters the
face of the perſon he is converſing with.
You will find fome people alſo, who
fouriſh and toſs their hands about, while
they are talking to you, as if they were
driving away the flies from you: all
which actions have in them a deformity
and want of grace. Pindar, an excel-
lent
[ 1go )
3
:
.
..
ient Greek poet, obſerves, that whatever
is pleafing, amiable, and elegant, is
formed by the hands of * Venus and the
Graces.
It would be endleſs to enumerate
the affectations, of one man that comes
out of his counting-houſe, with his pen
ſticking behind his ear; or of another,
who, after dinner, will carry his napkin
round the room in his teeth, or lay up
his legs on the table, or ſpit upon his
fingers, from a principle of neatneſs; and
other trifling follies innumerable; which,
as they are infinite, I will not attempt to
collect and record them, when probably
many perſons will be of opinion, that I
have already been too tedious in the par-
ticulars which I have mentioned to
Conclufions
.
• Ult. Olymp. Od.
+ N. B. As the author is ſaid to have been
forty years in finiſhing this treatiſe, it is probable,
that fome of the laſt remarks were added occa-
fionally; the tranſlator, therefore, thought it
beſt
I 191 ]
Concluſion.
Yet, Sir, I would not have you ima-
gine, that, becauſe each of the parti-
culars hitherto mentioned is marked but
with a flight degree of error, therefore
there can be no great harm in neglect-
iog the whole ; for here, (as I obſerved
in the beginning of this diſcourſe) from
a number of theſe flight errors, one con-
ſiderable degree of guilt may be incurred.
And the more trilling they are, with ſo
much the greater caution and attention
ought we to guard againſt them: becauta
it is not ſo eaſy to diſcern when we are
guilty of them; and, if they are ne-
glected, they grow inſenſibly into an
habic. Now, as trifling expences, if
they are frequent, ſecretly conſume even
a conſiderable fortune; ſo theſe flight of-
fences, if frequently repeated, debaſe
beſt to tranſpoſe them, and inſert them before the
concluſion,
even
[
[ 192]
even the moſt excellent characters :-Let
not the force, therefore, of what has
been ſaid, be ſet at nought and eluded
by a contemptuous laugh.
THE END.
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