ABSENCE OF MIND.

AN absent Man is generally either a ve­ry weak, or a very affected man; he is, however, a very disagreeable man in com­pany. He is defective in all the common of­fices of civility; he does not enter into the general conversation, but breaks into it from time to time, with some starts of his own, as if he waked from a dream. He seems wrap­ped up in thought, and possibly does not think at all: he does not know his most inti­mate acquaintance by sight, or answers them [Page 2]as if he were at cross purposes. He leaves his hat in one room, his cane in another, and would probably leave his shoes in a third, if his buckles though awry, did not save them. This is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it cannot bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would be sup­posed to be wholly ingrossed, by some very great and important objects. Sir Isaac New­ton, Mr. Locke, and perhaps five or six more since the creation, may have had a right to absence, from the intense thought their in­vestigations required.

No man is, in any degree, fit for either business or conversation, who does not com­mand his attention to the present object he what it will. When I see a man absent in mind, I choose to be absent in body; for it is almost impossible for me to stay in the room, as I cannot stand inattention and awkward­ness.

I would rather be in company with a dead man, than with an absent one; for if the dead man affords me no pleasure at least he shows me no contempt; whereas the absent man very plainly, though silently, tells me that he does not think me worth his attenti­on. Besides, an absent man can never make any observations upon the characters, customs and manners of the company. He may be in the best companies all his life-time, (if [Page 3]they will admit him) and never become the wiser: we may as well converse with a deaf man, as an absent man. It is indeed a prac­tical blunder to address ourselves to a man, who we plainly perceive neither hears, minds, nor understands us.

ATTENTION.

A MAN is fit for neither business nor plea­sure, who either cannot, or does not, command and direct his attention to the pre­sent object, and in some degree, banish, for that time, all other objects from his thoughts. If at a ball, a supper, or a party of pleasure, a man were to be solving, in his own mind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bad companion, and make a poor figure in that company; or if, in studying a problem in his closet, he were to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that he would make a very poor mathematician.

There is time enough for every thing, in the course of the day, if you do but one thing at once; but there is not time enough in the year, if you will do two things at a time.

This steady and undissipated attention to one object is a sure mark of a superior geni­ns; [Page 4]as hurry, bustle and agitation, are the never-failing symptoms of a weak and frivo­lous mind.

Indeed, without attention nothing is to be done: want of attention, which is really want of thought, is either folly or madness. You should not only have attention to every thing, but a quickness of attention, so as to observe at once, all the people in the room; their motions, their looks, and their words; and yet without staring at them, and seeming to be an observer. This quick and unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, and is to be acquired with care; and, on the contrary, what is called absence, which is a thoughtlessness and want of attention about what is doing, makes a man so like either a fool or a madman, that, for my part, I see no real difference. A fool never has thought; a madman has loft it; and an absent man is, for the time, without it.

In short, the most material knowledge of all, I mean the knowledge of the world, is never to be acquired without great attention; and I know many old people, who, though they have lived long in the world, are but children still as to the knowledge of it, from their levity, and inattention. Certain forms, which all people comply with, and certain arts, which all people aim at, hide, in some degree, the truth, and give a general exterior [Page 5]resemblence to almost every body. Attenti­on and sagacity must see thro' that veil, and discover the natural character.

Add to this, there are [...] attentions which are infinitely engaging, and which sensibly affect that degr [...]e of pride and [...]olf love which is inseparable from human nature; as they are unquestionable proofs of the regard and con­sideration which we have for the persons to whom we pay them. As for example [...]. Sup­pose you invited any body to dine or sup with you, you ought to recollect if you had observ­ed that they had any favourite dish, and tak [...] care to provided it for them, and when it came, you should say, ‘You seemed to me, at such and such a place, to give this dish pre­ference, and therefore ordered it. This is the wine that I observed you like, and therefore I procured some.’ Again: Most people have their weaknesses; they have their aversions or their likings to such or such things. If we were to laugh at a man for his aversion to a cat or cheese (which are common antipa­thies,) or by inattention or negligence, to let them come in his way where we could pre­vent it; he would in the first case, think him­self insulted; and in the second slighted; and would remember both. But, on the other hand, our care to procure for him what he likes, and to remove from him what he dis­likes, [Page 6]shews him that he is at least an object of our attention, flatters his vanity, and per­haps makes him more your friend, than a more important service would have done. The more trifling these things are, the more they prove your attention for the person, and are consequently the more engaging. Consult your own breast, and recollect how these little attentions, when shewn you by others, flatter that degree of self-love and vanity from which no man living is free. Reflect how they in­cline and attract you to that person, and how you are propitiated afterwards to all which that person says or does. The same causes will have the same effects in your favour.

AWKWARDNESS OF DIF­FERENT KINDS.

MANY very worthy and sensible peo­ple have certain odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardness in their behaviour, which excite a disgust to and dislike of their per­sons, that cannot be removed or overcome by any other valuable endowment or merit which they may possess.

Now, awkwardness can proceed but from too causes; either from not having kept good company, or from not having attended to it.

When an awkward fellow first comes into [Page 7]a room, it is highly probable, that his sword gets between his legs, and throws him down, or makes him stumble, at least; when he has recovered this accident, he goes and places him­self in the very place of the whole room where he should not; there he soon lets his hat fall down, and, in taking it up again, throws down his cane; in recovering his cane, his hat falls a second time: so that he is a quarter of an hour before he is in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he certainly scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or the sau­cer fall, and spills the tea or coffee in his breeches. At dinner, his awkwardness distin­guishes itself particularly, as he has more to do: there be holds his knife, fork and spoon, differently from other people; eats with his knife to the great danger of his mouth, picks his teeth with his fork, and puts his spoon, which has been in his throat twenty times, into the dishes again. If he is to carve, can never hit the joint; but in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the sauce in every body's face. He generally daubs him­self with soup and grease, though his napkin is commonly stuck through a button hole, and tickles his chin. When he drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glass, and besprinkles the company. Besides all this he has strange tricks and gestures; such as snuffing up his [Page 8]nose, or blowing it, and looking afterwards in his handkerchief, so as to make the com­pany sick. His hands are troublesome to him when he has not something in them, and he does not know where to put them: but they are in perpetual motion between his bosom and his breeches: he does not wear his clothes, and in short, does nothing like other people. All this, I own, is not in any degree criminal; but it is highly dis­agreeable and ridiculous in company, and ought most carefully to be avoided by who­ever desires to please.

From this account of what you should not do, you may easily judge what you should do, and a due attention to the manners of people of fashion, and who have seen the world, will make it habitual and familiar to you.

There is, likewise, an awkwardness of ex­pression and words most carefull to be avoided; such as false Engli [...], bad pro­nunciation, old sayings, and common pro­verbs; which are so many pro [...]fs of having kept bad and low company. For example: if, instead of saying that ‘tastes are dif­ferent, and that every man has his own peculiar one,’ you should let off a proverb, and say, that ‘what is one man's meat is another man's porion:’ or else, ‘every one as they like, as the good man said when he kissed his cow,’ every body [Page 9]would be persuaded that you had never kept company with any body above footmen and house maids.

There is likewise an awkwardness of the mind, that ought to be, and with care may be, avoided: as for instance: to [...]istake or forget names; to speak of Mr. What-d'ye-call-him, or Mrs. Thingum, or How d'ye-call her, is excessively awkward and ordinary. To call people by improper titles and appel­lations is so too; as my Lord, for Sir; and Sir, for my Lord. To begin a story or a narration when you are not perfect in it, and cannot go through with it, but are forced, possibly to say, in the middle of it, "I have forgot the rest," is very unpleasant and bungling. One must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous in every thing one says; otherwise, instead of entertaining or in­forming others, one only tires and puzzles them.

BASHFULNESS.

BASHFULNESS is the distinguishing character of an English booby, who appears freightened out of his wits if people of fashion speak to him, and blushes and stammers without being able to give a proper [Page 10]answer; by which means he becomes truly ridiculous from the groundless fear of being laughed at.

There is a very material difference between modesty and awkward bashfulness, which is as ridiculous as true modesty is commendable: it is as absurd to be a simpleton as to be an impudent fellow; and we make ourselves contemptible, if we cannot come into a room and speak to people without being out of countenance, or without embarrassment. A man who is really diffident, timid, and bash­ful, be his merit what it will, never can push himself in the world, his despondency throws him into inaction, and the forward, the bustling, and the petulent will always pre­cede him. The manner makes the whole difference. What would be impudence in one man, is only a proper and decent as­surance in another. A man of sense, and of knowledge of the world, will assert his own rights, and pursue his own objects as steadily and intrepidly as the most impudent man living, and commonly more so; but then he has art enough to give an outward air of modesty to all he does. This engages and prevails, whilst the very same things shock and fail, from the over-bearing or im­pudent manner only of doing them.

Englishmen, in general, are ashamed of going into company, when we avoid singu­larity, [Page 11]what should we be ashamed of? And why should not we go into a mixed company, with as much ease, and as little concern, as we would go into our own room? Vice and ignorance are the only things we ought to be ashamed of: while we keep clear of them, we may venture any where without fear or concern. Nothing sinks a young man into low company so surely as bashfulness. If he thinks that he shall not, he most surely will not please.

Some, indeed, from feeling the pain and inconveniencies of Bashfulness, have rushed into the other extreme, and turned impudent, as cowards sometimes grow desperate from excess of danger: but this is equally to be avoided, there being nothing more generally shocking than impudence. The medium be­tween these two extremes points out the well-bred man, who always feels himself firm and easy in all companies: who is modest without being bashful, and steady without being impudent.

A mean fellow is ashamed and embarrassed when he comes into company, is disconcerted when sp [...]en to, answers with difficulty, and does not know how to dispose of his hands: but a gentleman who is acquainted with the world, a pears in company with a graceful and proper assurance, and is perfectly easy and unembarrassed. He is not dazzled by [Page 12]superior rank; he pays all the respect that is due to it, without being disconcerted: and can converse as easily with a king as with any one of his subjects. This is the great advan­tage of being introduced young into good company, and of conversing with our supe­riors. A well bred man will converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with respect, and with ease. Add to this, that a man of a gentleman-like be­haviour, though of inferior parts, is better received than a man of superior abilities, who is unacquainted with the world. Modesty, and a polite, easy assurance, should be united.

COMPANY.

TO keep good company, especially at our first setting out, is the way to re­ceive good impressions. Good company is not what respective setts of good company are pleased [...]ither to call or think themselves. It consist [...] [...]hiefly (though not wholly) of peo­ple of considerable birth, rank, and cha­racter; for people of neither birth nor rank are frequently and very justly admitted into it, if distinguished by any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. So motely a thing is good company, that many people, without birth, rank, o [...] me it, intrude [Page 13]into it by their own forwardness, and others get into it by the protection of some consi­derable person. In this fashionable good company, the best manners and the purest language are most unquestionably to be learnt: for they establish and give the ton to both, which are called the language and manners of good company; neither of them being ascertained by any legal tribunal.

A company of people of the first quality cannot be called good company, in the com­mon acceptation of the phrase, unless they are the fashionable and accredited company of the place; for people of the first quality can be as silly, as ill bred, and as worthless as people of the meanest degree. And a company, consisting wholly of people of a very low condition, whatever their merit or talents may be, can never be called good company; and therefore should not be much frequented, tho' by no means despised.

A company wholly composed of learned men, though greatly to be respected, is not meant by the words GOOD COMPANY: they cannot have the easy and polished manner [...] of the world, as they do not live in it. If we can bear our parts well in such a company, it will be proper to be in it sometimes, and we shall be more esteemed in other companies for having a place in that.

A company consisting wholly of professed [Page 14]wits and poets, is very inviting to young men, who are pleased with it if they have wit themselves; and if they have none, are fool­ishly proud of being one of it. But such companies should be frequented with modera­tion and judgment. A wit is a very unpo­pular denomination, as it carries terror along with it; and people are as much afraid of a wit in company, as a woman is of a gun, which she supposes may go off of itself, and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance, however, is worth seeking, and their com­pany worth frequenting; but not exclusively of others, nor to such a degree as to be consi­dered only of one of that particular sett.

Above all things, endeavour to keep com­pany with people above you; for there you rise, as much as you sink with people below. When I say company above you, I do not mean with regard to their birth; but with regard to their merit, and the light in which the world considers them.

There are two sorts of good company; one, which is called BEAU MONDE, and consists of those people which have the lead in courts, and in the gay part of life; the other con­sists of those who are distinguished by some particular merit, or who excel in some par­ticular and valuable arts or science.

Be equally careful to avoid that low com­pany, which, in every sense of the word, is [Page 15]low indeed; low in rank, low in its parts, low in manners, and low in merit. Vanity, that source of many of our follies, and of some of our crimes, has sunk many a man into company in every light infinitely below him, for the sake of being the first man in it. There he dictates, is applauded, and admir­ed: bu [...] he soon disgraces himself, and dis­qualifies himself for any better company.

Having thus pointed out what company you should avoid, and what company you should associate with, I shall next lay down a few
RULES FOR BEHAVIOUR IN COMPANY.

When a young man, new in the world, first gets into company, he determines to conform to and imitate it. But he too often mistakes the object of his imitation. He has frequently heard the absu [...]d te [...]m of genteel and fashionable vices. He there observes some people who shine and who in gene­ral are admired and [...]steemed; and perceives that these people are rakes, drunkards, or gamesters; he therefore adopts their vices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and imagining that they owe their fashion and their lustre to these g [...]nt [...]el vice. But it is exactly the reverse; for these people have ac­quired the reputation by their parts, their learn­ing, [Page 16]their good breeding, and other real ac­complishments; and are only blemished and lowered in the opinions of all reasonable peo­ple, by these general and fashionable vices. It is therefore plain, that in these mixed cha­racters, the good part only makes people for­give but not approve the bad.

If a man should unfortunately have any vices, he ought at least to be content with his own, and not adopt other people's. The a­doption of vice has ruined ten times more young men than natural inclinations.

Let us imitate the real perfections of the good company into which we may get; copy their politeness, their carriage, their address, and the easy and well-bred turn of their conver­sation; but we should remember, that, let them shine ever so bright, their vices, if they have any, are so many blemishes, which we would no more endeavour to imitate, than we would make artificial warts upon our faces because some very handsome man had the misfortune to have a natural one upon his. We should, on the contrary, think how much handsomer he would have been without it.

Having thus given you instructions for mak­ing you well received in good company, I pro­ceed next to lay before you, the polite.

RULES FOR CONVERSATION.

ECONOMY.

A FOOL squanders away, without cre­dit or advantage to himself, more than a man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a mi­nute of the other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms of a toy-shop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, &c. are his destruction. His ser­vants and tradesmen conspire with his own indolence to cheat him; and, in a very little time, he is astonished, in the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want of all the real comforts and necessaries of life.

Without care and method, the largest for­tune will not, and with them, almost the smallest will, supply all necessary expences. As far as you can possibly, pay ready money for every thing you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that money yourself, and not through the hands of any servant; who always either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, as they call it. Where you must have bills (as for meat and drink, clothes, &c.) pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. Never, from a [Page 32]mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want, because it is cheap; or, from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an account, in a book, of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; for no man who knows what he receives, and what he pays, ever runs out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings and half­crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, &c. they are unworthy of the time, and the ink, that they would consume; leave such minuties to dull, penny-wise fellows. But remember, in enonomy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones.

FRIENDSHIP.

YOUNG persons have commonly an unguarded frankness about them, which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the experienced: they look upon every knave, or fool, who tells them that he is their friend, to be really so; and pay that profession of simulated friendship with an indiscreet and unbounded confi­dence, always to their loss, often to their ruin. Beware of these proffered friendships. Re­ceive [Page 33]them with great civility, but with great incredulity too; and pay them with compli­ments, but not with confidence. Do not suppose that people become friends at first sight, or even upon a short acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow grower; and never thrives, unless ingrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit.

There is another kind of nominal friend­ship among young people, which is warm for the time, but luckily of short duration. This friendship is hastily produced, by their being accidentally thrown together, and pur­suing the same course of riot and debauchery. A fine friendship, truly! and well cemented with drunkenness and lewdness. It should rather be called a conspiracy against morals and good manners, and be punished as such by the civil magistrate. However, they have the impudence, and the [...] to call this confederacy a friendship. They lend one another money, for bad purposes; they en­gage in quarrels, offensive and defensive, for their accomplices; they tell one another all they know, and often more too; when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, and they think no more of each other, unless it be to betray and laugh at their imprudent confidence.

When a man uses strong protestations or oaths to make you believe a thing, which is [Page 34]of itself so probable that the bare saying of it would be sufficient, depend upon it he de­ceives you, and is highly interested in mak­ing you believe it, or else he would not take so much pains.

Remember to make a great difference be­tween companions and friends; for a very complaisant and agreeable companion may, and often does, prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. People will, in a great degree, form their opinion of you, upon that which they have of your friends; and there is a Spanish proverb which says, very justly, ‘Tell me who you live with, and I will tell you who you are.’ One may fairly suppose that a man, who make [...] a knave or a fool his friend, has something very bad to do, or to conceal. But, at the same time that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and fools, [...] can be called friendship, there is no occasion to make either of them your enemies, wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous bodies; and I would rather chuse a secure neutrality, than alliance, or war, with either of them. You may be a de­clared enemy to their vices and follies, with­out being marked out by them as a personal one. Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their friendship.—Have a real re­serve with almost every body; and have a [...]eeming reserve with almost nobody; for it is [Page 35]very disageeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the true medium; many are ridiculously mysteri­ous and reserved upon trifles; and many im­prudently communicative of all they know.

GOOD-BREEDING.

GOOD-BREEDING has been very justly defined to be ‘the result of much good sense, some good-nature, and a little self­denial for the sake of others, and with a view to obtain the same indulgence from them.’

Good-breeding alone can prepossess people in our favour at first sight; more time being necessary to discover greater talents. Good-breeding, however, does not consist in low bows, and formal ceremony, but in an easy, civil, and respectable behaviour.

Indeed, good sense, in many cases, must determine good-breeding; for what would be civil at one time, and to one person, would be rude at another time, and to another per­son: there are, however, some general rules of good-breeding. As for example: To an­swer only yes, or no, to any person, without adding Sir, My Lord, or Madam (as it may happen) is always extremely rude; and it is [Page 36]equally so not to give proper attention and a civil answer, when spoken to: such behavi­our convinces the person who is speaking to us, that we despise him, and do not think him worthy of our attention, or an answer.

A well-bred person will take care to an­swer with complaisance when he is spoken to; will place himself at the lower end of the ta­ble, unless bid to go higher; will first drink to the lady of the house, and then to the mas­ter; he will not eat awkwardly or dirtily, nor sit when others stand; and he will do all this with an air of complaisance, and not with a grave ill-natured look, as if he did it all un­willingly.

There is nothing more difficult to attain, or so necessary to possess, as perfect good-breeding; which is equally inconsistent with a stiff formality, an impertinent forwardness, and an awkward bashfulness. A little cere­mony is sometimes necessary, a certain de­gree of firmness is absolutely so: and an awkward modesty is extremely becoming.

Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic value; but if they are not polished, they certainly lose a great deal of their lustre: and even polished brass will pass upon more people than rough gold. What a num­ber of fins does the chearful, easy, good-breeding of the French frequently cover!

My Lord Bacon says, ‘That a pleasing [Page 37]figure is a perpetual letter of recommenda­tion.’ It is certainly an agreeable fore­runner of merit, and smooths the way for it.

A man of good-breeding should be ac­quainted with the forms and particular customs of Courts. At Vienna, men always make curtsies instead of bows, to the Emperor; in France, nobody bows to the King, or kisses his hand; but, in Spain and England, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Thus every Court has some peculiarity, which those who visit them ought previously to inform them­selves of, to avoid blunders and awkward­nesses.

Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the respect which they should show to those whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their supe­riors. The man of fashion, and of the world, expresses it in its fullest extent; but naturally easily, and without concern: whereas a man, who is not used to keep-good company, ex­presses it awkwardly: one sees that he is not used to, and that it costs him a great deal: but I never saw the worst-bred man living, guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his head, and such-like indecencies, in company that he respected. In such companies, there­fore, the only point to be attended to is, to show that respect, which every body means to show, in an easy, unembarrassed, and graceful manner.

[Page 38] In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for the time at least, supposed to be upon a footing of equality with the rest; and, consequently, every one claims, and very justly, every mark of civility and good-breeding. Ease is allowed, but care­lessness and negligence are strictly forbidden. If a man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dully or frivolously; it is worse than rude­ness, it is brutality, to show him, by a ma­nifest inattention to what he says, that you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more so with regard to women; who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration of their sex, not only to an attentive, but an officious good-breeding from men. Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impertinencies, must be officiously attended to, flattered, and, if possible, guessed at and anticipated, by a well-bred man. You must never usurp to yourself those conveniencies and agremens which are of common right: such as the best places, the best dishes, &c. but, on the con­trary, always decline them yourself, and of­fer them to others; who, in their turns, will offer them to you; so that, upon the whole you will, in your turn, enjoy your share of common right.

The third sort of good-breeding is local, [Page 39]and is variously modified, in not only differ­ent countries, but in different towns of the same country. But it must be founded upon the two former sorts; they are the matter; to which, in this case, Fashion and Custom only give the different shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two first sorts, will easily acquire this third sort of good-breeding, which depends singly upon attention and ob­servation. It is properly the polish, the lustre, the last finishing strokes of good-breeding. A man of sense therefore carefully attends to the local manners of the respective places where he is, and takes for his models those persons whom he observes to be at the head of the fashion and good-breeding. He watches how they address themselves to their superi­ors, how they accost their equals, and how they treat their inferiors; and lets none of those little niceties escape him; which are to good-breeding, what the last delicate and masterly touches are to a good picture: and which the vulgar have no notion of, but by which good judges distinguish the master. He attends even to their air, dress and mo­tions, and imitates them liberally, and not servilely; he copies, but does not mimic. These personal graces are of very great con­sequence. They anticipate the sentiments, before merit engage the understanding; they [Page 40]captivate the heart and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of Charms and Philters. Their effects were so surprising, that they were reckoned supernatural.

In short, as it is necessary to possess learn­ing, honour, and virtue, to gain the esteem and admiration of mankind, so politeness and good-breeding are equally necessary to render us agreeable in conversation, and common life. Great talents are above the generality of the world; who neither possess them themselves, nor are competent judges of them in others: but all are judges of the lesser talents, such as civility, affability, and an agreeable address and manner; because they feel the good effects of them, as making society easy and agreeable.

To conclude; be assured that the pro­foundest learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome and tiresome pedantry, that a man who is not perfectly well bred, is unfit for good-company, and unwelcome in it; and that a man, who is not well-bred, is full as unfit for business as for company.

Make, then, good breeding, the great ob­ject of your thoughts and actions. Observe carefully the behaviour and manners of those who are distinguished by their good-breeding; imitate, nay endeavour to excel that you may at least reach them, and be convinced that good-beeding is, to all worldly qualifications, [Page 41]what charity is to all christian virtues. Ob­serve how it adorns merit, and how often it covers the want of it.

GRACES.

KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD.

WE should endeavour to hoard up, while we are young, a great stock of know­ledge: for though during that time of dissi­pation, we may not have occasion to spend much of it, yet a time will come when we shall want it to maintain us.

The knowledge of the world is only to be acquired in the world, and not in a closet. Books alone will never teach it you; but they will suggest many things to your ob­servation, which might otherwise escape you; and your own observations upon mankind, when compared with those which you will find in books, will help you to fix the true point.

To know mankind well, requires full as much attention and application as to know books, and, it may be, more sagacity and discernment. I am, at this time, acquainted with many elderly people, who have all pass­ed their whole lives in the great world, but with such levity and inattention, that they know no more of it now than they did at fifteen. Do not flatter yourself, therefore, with the [Page 61]thoughts that you can acquire this knowledge in the frivolous chit-chat of idle companies; no, you must go much deeper than that. You must look into people, as well as at them. Search therefore, with the greatest care, into the characters of all those whom you converse with; endeavour to discover their predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their humours; with all the right and wrong, wise and silly springs of human actions, which make such inconsistent and whimsical beings of us rational creatures.

There are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, some time or other, and in some thing or other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which they cer­tainly will not, if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it forever. Remember therefore, most carefully to conceal your contempt, however just, wherever you would not make an implacable enemy. Men are much more unwilling to have their weaknesses and their imperfections known, than their crimes; and if you hint to a man that you think him filly, ignorant, or even ill-bred or awkward, he will hate you more, and longer than if you tell him, plain­ly, that you think him a rogue.

[Page 62] Nothing is more insulting, than to take pains to make a man feel a mortifying in­feriority in knowledge, rank, fortune, &c. In the first it is both ill-bred and ill-natured, and in the two latter article [...] it is unjust, they not being in his power. Good-breed­ing and good-nature incline us rather to raise people up to ourselves, than to mortify and depress them. Besides, it is making ourselves so many friends, instead of so many enemies. A constant attention to please, is a most ne­cessary ingredient in the art of pleasing; it flatters the self-love of those to whom it is shewn; it engages and captivates, more than things of much greater importance. Every man is, in some measure, obliged to discharge the social duties of life; but these attentions are voluntary acts, the free-will offerings of good-breeding and good-nature: they are received, remembered, and returned as such. Women in particular, have a right to them; and any omission, in that respect, is down­right ill-breeding.

We should never yield to that temptation, which to most young men is very strong, of exposing other people's weaknesses and infir­mities, for the sake either of diverting the company, or of shewing our own superiority. We may, by that means, get the laugh on our side for the present; but we shall make enemies by it forever: and even those who [Page 63]laugh with us, will, upon reflection, fear and despise us: it is ill-natured, and a good heart desires rather to conceal than expose other people's weaknesses or misfortunes. If we have wit, we should use it to please, and not to hurt: we may shi [...] like the sun in the Temperate Zones, without scorching.

There are many inoffensive arts which are necessary in the course of the world, and which he who practises the earliest, will please the most, and rise the soonest. The spirits and vivacity of youth are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them as troublesome; but subsequent knowledge and experience of the world remind us of their importance com­monly when it is too late. The principal of these things, is the mastery of one's temper, and that coolness of mind and serenity of coun­tenance, which hinders us from discovering, by words, actions, or even looks, those pas­sions or sentiments by which we are inwardly moved or agitated; and the discovery of which gives cooler and abler people such in­finite advantages over us, not only in great business, but in all the most common occur­rences of life. A m [...] who does not possess himself enough to hear disagreeable things, without visible marks of anger and change of countenance, or agreeable ones without sudden bursts of joy, and expansion of coun­tenance, is at the mercy of every artful knave, [Page 64]or pert coxcomb. The former will provoke or please you by design, to catch unguarded words or looks; by which he will easily decy­pher the secrets of your heart, of which you should keep the key yourself, and trust it with no man living. The latter will, by his absurdity, and without intending it, produce the same discoveries, of which other people will avail themselves.

If you find yourself subject to sudden starts of passion, or madness, (for I see no difference between them, but in their duration) resolve, within yourself, at least, never to speak one word while you feel that emotion within you.

In short, make yourself absolute master of your temper, and your countenance, so far, a [...] least, as that no visible change do appear in either, whatever you may feel inwardly. This may be difficult, but it is by no means impossible; and, as a man of sense never at­tempts impossibilities, on one hand, or the other, he is never discouraged by difficulties: on the contrary, he redoubles his industry and his diligence, he perseveres, and infal­libly prevails at last. In any point, which prudence bids you pursue and which a mani­fest utility attends, let difficulties only ani­mate your industry, not deter you from the pursuit. If one way has failed, try another; be active, persevere, and you will conquer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flatter­ed, [Page 65]some intimidated, and some teazed into a thing; but, in general, all are to be brought into it at last, if skilfully applied to, proper­ly managed, and indefatigably attacked in their several weak places. The time should likewise be judiciously chosen: every man has his MOLLIA TEMPORA, but that is far from being all day long; and you would choose your time very ill, if you applied to a man about one business, when his head was full of another, or when his heart was full of grief, anger, or any other disagreeable sentiment.

In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own, for men in general are very much alike, and though one has one prevail­ing passion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the same: and whatever engages or disgusts, pleases or of­fend [...] you, in others, will, mutatis mutandis, engage, disgust, please, or offend others, in you Observe, with the utmost attention, all the operations of your own mind, the nature of your passions, and the various motives that determine your will; and you may in a great degree know all mankind. For instance Do you find yourself hurt and mortified, when another makes you feel his superiority, and your own inferiority, in knowledge, parts, rank, or fortune? you will certainly take great care not to make a person, whose good [Page 66]will, good word, interest, esteem, or friend­ship, you would gain, feel that superiority in you, in case you have it. If disagreeable insinuations, sly sneers, or repeated contra­dictions, teaze and irritate you, would you use them where you wished to engage and please? Surely not: and I hope you wish to engage and please, almost universally. The temptation of saying a smart and witty thing, or bon mot, and the malicious applause with which it is commonly received, have made people who can say them, and still oftener, people who think they can, but cannot, and yet try, more enemies, and implacable ones too, than any one other thing that I know of. When such things then, shall happen to be said at your expence, (a sometimes they certainly will) reflect seriously upon the sen­timents of uneasiness, anger, and resentment, which they excite in you; and consider whe­ther it can be prudent, by the same means, to excite the same sentiments in others against you. It is a decided folly to lose a friend for a jest; but, in my mind, it is not a much less degree of folly to make an enemy of an in­different and neutral person, for the sake of a bon mot.—When things of this kind happen to be said of you, the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose that they are meant at you, but to dissemble and conceal whatever degree of anger you may feel inwardly; and, should [Page 67]they be so plain that you cannot be supposed ignorant of their meaning, to join in the laugh of the company against yourself; acknowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jest a good one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humour; but by no means reply in the same way; which only shows that you are hurt, and publishes the victory which you might have concealed. Should the thing said, indeed, injure your honour or moral charac­ter, remember there are but two alternatives for a gentleman and a man of parts—extreme politeness, or a duel.

If a man notoriously and designedly insults and affronts you, knock him down; but if he only injures you, your best revenge is to be extremely civil to him in your outward be­haviour, though at the same time you coun­terwork him, and return him the compliment, perhaps with interest. This is not perfidy nor dissimulation; it would be so if you were at the same time to make professions of esteem and friendship to this man; which I by no means recommend, but, on the contrary, ab­hor. All acts of civility are, by common con­sent, understood to be no more than a con­formity to custom, for the quiet and conveni­ency of society, the agremens of which are not to be disturbed by private dislikes and jealou­sies. Only women and little minds pout and spar for the entertainment of the company, [Page 68]that always laughs at, and never pities them. For my own part, though I would by no means give up any point to a competitor, yet I would pique myself upon showing him rather more civility than to another man. In the first place, this behaviour infallibly makes all the laughers of your side, which is a considerable party; and in the next place, it certainly pleases the object of the competition, be it either man or woman; who never fail to say, upon such an occasion, that ‘they must own you have behaved yourself very handsome­ly in the whole affair.’

In short, let this be one invariable rule of your conduct: Never to show the least symp­tom of resentment, which you cannot to a certain degree, gratify; but always to smile where you cannot strike. There would be no living in the world, if one could not conceal and even dissemble the just causes of resent­ment which one meets with every day in ac­tive and busy life. Whoever cannot master his humour, should leave the world, and re­tire to some hermitage in an unfrequented de­fart. By showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you authorize the resentment of [...]hose who can hurt you, and whom you can­not hurt; and give them that very pretence, which perhaps they wished for, of breaking with, and injuring you; whereas the con­trary behaviour would lay them under the [Page 69]restraints of decency, at least; a [...] either shackle or expose their malice. Besides, cap­tiousness, fullenness, and pouting, are most exceedingly illiberal and vulgar.

Though men are all of one composition, the several ingredients are so differently pro­portioned in each individual, that no two are exactly alike; and no one, at all times, like himself. The ablest man will, sometimes, do weak things: the proudest man, mean things: the honestest man, ill things; and the wick­edest man, good ones. Study individuals, then: and if you take (as you ought to do) their outlines from their prevailing passion, suspend your last finishing strokes till you have attended to and discovered the opera­tions of their inferior passions, appetites, and humours. A man's general character may be that of the honestest man of the world: do not dispute it; you might be thought en­vious or ill-natured: but at the same time, do not take this probity upon trust, to such a degree as to put your life, fortune, or re­putation in his power. This honest man may happen to be your rival in power, in interest, or in love; three passions that often put ho­nesty to most severe trials, in which it is too often cast: but first analyse this honest man yourself: and then, only you will be able to judge, how far you may, or may not, with safety trust him.

[Page 70] If you would particularly gain the affection and friendship of particular people, whether men or women, endeavour to find our their predominant excellency, if they have one, and their prevailing weakness, which every body has; and do justice to the one, and something more than justice to the other. Men have various objects in which they may excel, or at least would be thought to excel; and, though they love to hear justice done to them, where they know that they excel, yet they are most and best flattered upon those points where they wish to excel, and yet are doubt­ful whether they do or not. As for example: Cardinal Richlieu, who was undoubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or perhaps of any other, had the idle vanity of being thought the best poet too; he envied the great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be written upon the CID. Those therefore, who flattered skilfully, said little to him of his abilities in state affairs, or at least but EN PAS SANI, and as it might na­turally occur. But the incense which they give him, the smoke of which, they knew would turn his head in their favour, was as a BE [...]ESPRIT and a poet. Why? Because he was sure of one excellency, and distrustful as to the other.

You will easily discover every man's pre­vailing vanity, by observing his favourite [Page 71]topic of conversation; for every man talks most of what he has most a mind to be thought to excel in. Touch him but there, and you touch him to the quick.

Women have, in general, but one object, which is their beauty; upon which scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow. Nature has hardly formed a woman ugly enough to be inse [...]sible to flattery upon her person; if her face is so shocking, that she must, in some degree, be conscious of it, her figure and her air, she trusts make ample a­mends for it. If her figure is deformed, her face, she thinks, counterbalances it. If they are both bad, she comforts herself, that she has graces; a certain manner; IE NE SCAIS QUOI, still more engaging than beauty. This truth is evident, from the studied and elaborate dress of the ugliest women in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, consci­ous Beauty, is, of all women, the least sen­sible of flattery upon that head: she knows it is her due, and is therefore obliged to no­body for giving it her. She must be flatter­ed upon her understanding; which, though she may possibly not doubt of herself, yet she suspects that men may distrust.

Do not mistake me, and think that I mean to recommend to you abject and criminal flattery: no, flatter nobody's vices or crimes: on the contrary, abhor and discourage them. [Page 72]But there is no living in the world without a complaisant indulgence for people's weak­nesses, and innocent, though ridiculous va­nities. If a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a woman handsomer, than they really are, their error is a comfortable one to themselves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I would rather make them my friends, by indulging them in it, than my enemies, by endeavouring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them.

Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect any one virtue; who raise it above all others, and who, in a manner, intimate that they possess it exclusively, I say suspect them: for they are commonly impostors: but do not be sure that they are always so; for I have sometimes known saints really religious, Blusterers really brave, Reformers of man­ners really honest, and Prudes really chaste. Pry into the recesses of their hearts yourself, as far as you are able, and never implicitly adopt a character upon common fame; which though generally right as to the great out­lines of characters, is always wrong in some particulars.

Be upon your guard against those who, upon very slight acquaintance, obtrude their unasked and unmerited friendship and confi­dence upon you; for they probably cram you with them only for their own eating: but, [Page 73]at the same time, do not roughly reject them upon that general supposition. Examine fur­ther, and see whether those unexpected offers flow from a warm heart and a silly head, or from a designing head and a cold heart; for knavery and folly have often the same symp­toms. In the first case, there is no dan [...] in accepting them,—valeant quantum valere possunt. In the latter case, it may be useful to seem to accept them, and artfully to turn the battery on him who raised it.

If a man uses strong oaths or protestations to make you believe a thing, which is of it­self so likely and probable, that the [...]are say­ing of it would be sufficient, depend upon it he lies, and is highly interested in making you believe it; or else he would not take so much pains.

There is an incontinency of friendship among young fellows, who are associated by their mutual pleasures only, which has, very frequently, bad consequences. A parcel of warm hearts, and unexperienced heads, hear­ed by convivial m [...]th, and possibly a little too much wine, vow, and reasly mean at the time, eternal friendships to each other, and indiscreetly pour out their whole souls in common, and without the least reserve. The considences are as indiscreetly [...]ealed, as they were made; for new pleasures, and new [Page 74]places, soon dissolve this ill-cemented con­nection; and then very ill uses are made of these rash confidences. Bear your part, how­ever, in young companies; nay, excel if you can, in all the social and convivial joy and festivity that become youth. Trust them with your love-tales, if you please; but keep your serious views secret. Trust those only to some tried friend, more experienced than yourself, and who, being in a different walk of life from you, is not likely to become your rival; for I would not advise you to depend so much upon the heroic virtue of mankind, as to hope or believe, that your competitor will ever be your friend, as to the object of that compe­tition.

A seaming ignorance is very often a most necessary part of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly adviseable to seem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and when they say, Have you not heard of such a thing? to answer, No, and to let them go on, though you know it already. Some have a pleasure in telling it, because they think they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as being the sagacious discoverers; and many have a vanity in showing that they have been, though very undeservedly, trust­ed: all these would be disappointed, and consequently displeased, if you said, Yes. Seem always ignorant (unless to one most [Page 75]intimate friend) of all matters of private scandal and defamation, though you should hear them a thousand times, for the parties affected always look upon the receiver to be almost as bad as the thief: and whenever they become the topic of conversation, seem to be a sceptic, though you are really a se­rious believer; and always take the extenu­ating part. But all this seeming ignorance should be joined to thorough and extensive private informations: and, indeed, it is the best method of procuring them; for most people have such a vanity in shewing a supe­riority over others, though but for a moment, and in the merest trifles, that they will tell you what they should not, rather than no [...] show that they can tell what you did not know: besides that, such seeming ignorance will make you pass for incurious, and conse­quently undesigning. However, fish for facts, and take pains to be well informed of every thing that passes; but fish judiciously, and not always, nor indeed often, in the shape of direct questions; which always put people upon their guard, and, often repeated, grow tiresome. But sometimes take the things that you would know, for granted; upon which somebody will, kindly and officiously, set you right: sometimes say, that you have heard so and so; and at other times seem to know [Page 76]more than you do in order to know all that you want: but avoid direct questioning as much as you can.

Human nature is the same all over the world; but its operations are so varied by education and habit, that one must see it in all its d [...]esses, in order to be intimately ac­quainted with it. The passion of ambition, for instance is the same in a courtier, a sol­dier, or an ecclesiastic; but from their differ­ent educations and habits they will take very different methods to gratify it. Civility, which is a diposition to accommodate and oblige others, is essentially the same in every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which is the manner of exerting that disposi­tion, is different in almost every country, and merely local; and every man of sense imitates and conforms to that local good-breeding of the place which he is at.—A conformity and flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world; that is, with regard to all things which are not wrong in themselves. The versatile ingenium is the most useful of all. It can turn instantly from one object to another, assuming the proper manner for each. It can be serious with the grave, chearful with the gay, and trifling with the frivolous.

Indeed, nothing is more engaging than a chearful and easy conformity to people's par­ticular [Page 77]manners, habits, and even weaknesses; nothing (to use a vulgar expression) should come amiss to a young fellow. He should be, for good purposes, what Alcibiades was commonly for bad ones—a Proteus, assuming with ease, and wearing with chearfulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, abstinence, gravity, gaiety, ceremony, easiness, learning, trifling, business, and pleasure, are modes which he should be able to take, lay aside, or change occasionally, with as much ease as he would take or lay aside his hat.

Young men are apt to think that every thing is to be carried by spirit and vigour; that art is meanness, and that versatility and complai­sance are the refuge of pusillanimity and weakness. This most mistaken opinion gives an indelicacy, an abruptness, and a rough­ness to the manners. Fools, who can never be undeceived, retain them as long as they live; reflection, with a little experience, makes men of sense shake them off soon. When they come to be a little better acquaint­ed with themselves, and with their own spe­cies, they discover, that plain right reason is, nine times in ten the fettered and shack­led attendant of the triumph of the heart and the passions; consequently, they address them­selves nine times in ten to the conqueror, not to be conquered: and conquerors, you [Page 78]know must be applied to in the gentlest, the most engaging, and the most insinuating manner.

But unfortunately, young men are as apt to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselves sober enough. They look upon spirit to be a much better thing than experience; which they call cold­ness. They are but half mistaken; for though spirit without experience is dangerous, ex­perience without spirit is languid and defec­tive. Their union which is very rare, is per­fection: you may join them, if you please, for all my experience is at your service; and I do not desire one grain of your spirit in return. Use them both; and let them re­ciprocally animate and check each other. I mean here, by the spirit of youth, only the vivacity and presumption of youth; which hinder them from seeing the difficulties or dangers of an undertaking; but I do not mean what the silly vulgar calls spirit, by which they are captious jealous of their rank, suspicious of being undervalued, and tart (as they call it) in their repartees, upon the slightest occasions. This is an evil, and a very silly spirit, which should be driven out, and transferred to an herd of swine.

To conclude: Never neglect or despise old, for the sake of new, or more shining acquaintance, which would be ungrateful [Page 79]on your part, and never forgiven on theirs. Take care to make personal friends, and as few personal enemies as possible. I do not mean, by personal friends, intimate and con­fidential friends, of which no man can hope to have half a dozen in the whole course of his life; but I mean friends, in the common ac­ceptation of the word; that is, people who speak well of you, and who would rather do you good than harm, consistently with their own interest, and no farther.

LYING.

NOTHING is more criminal, mean, or ridiculous, than Lying. It is the pro­duction either of malice or cowardice, or va­nity; but it generally misses of its aim in every one of these views; for lies are always detect­ed sooner or later. If we advance a malicious lye, in order to affect any man's fortune or character, we may, indeed, injure him for some time, but we shall certainly be the great­est sufferers in the end; for as soon as we are detected, we are blasted for the infamous at­tempt: and whatever is said afterwards to the disadvantage of that person, however true, pas­ses for calumny. To lie, or to equivocate, (which is the same thing) to excuse ourselves [Page 80]for what we have said or done, and to avoid the danger of the shame that we apprehend from it, we discover our fear as well as our falshood; and only increase, instead of avoid­ing, the danger and the shame; we show our­selves to be the lowest and meanest of mankind, and are sure to be always treated as such. If we have the misfortune to be in the wrong, there is something noble in frankly owning it; it is the only way of atoning for it, and the only way to be forgiven. To remove a pre­sent danger, by equivocating, evading, or shuffling, is something so despicable, and be­trays so much fear, that whoever practises them deserves to be chastised.

There are people who indulge themselves in another sort of lying, which they reckon innocent, and which in one sense is so; for it hurts nobody but themselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, be­gotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvellous; they have seen some things that never existed; they have seen other things which they never really saw, though they did exist, only because they were thought worth seeing. Has any thing remarkable been said or done in any place, or in any company; they immediately present and declare themselves eye or ear witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, or at least un­performed, by others. They are always the [Page 81]heroes of their own fables; and think that they gain consideration, or at least present at­tention by it. Whereas, in truth, all that they get is ridicule and contempt, not without a good degree of distrust: for one must natural­ly conclude, that he who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen any thing so very extraordinary as to be almost incredible, I would keep it to myself, rather than, by telling it, give any one body room to doubt for one minute of my veracity. It is most certain, that the reputation of chastity is not so necessary for a woman, as that of veracity is for a man: and with reason; for it is pos­sible for a woman to be virtuous, though not strictly chaste: but it is not possible for a man to be virtuous without strict veracity. The slips of the poor woman are sometimes mere bodily frailties: but a lie in a man is a vice of the mind, and of the heart.

Nothing but truth can carry us through the world, with either our conscience or our ho­nour unwounded. It is not only our duty, but our interest; as a proof of which, it may be observed, that the greatest fools are the greatest liars. We may safely judge of a man's truth by his degree of understanding.

DIGNITY OF MANNERS.

A CERTAIN dignity of manners is absolutely necessary, to make even the most valuable character either respected or re­spectable in the world.

Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indis­criminate familiarity, will sink both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow, and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. In­discriminate familiarity either offends your superiors, or else dubbs you their dependent, and led captain. It gives your inferiors just, but troublesome and improper claims of equa­lity. A joker is near akin to a buffoon; and neither of them is the least related to wit. Whoever is admitted or sought for, in com­pany, upon any other account than that of his merit and manners, is never respected there, but only made use of. We will have such a one, for he sings prettily; we will in­vite such a one to a ball, for he dances well; we will have such a one to supper, for he is always joking and laughing; we will ask ano­ther, because he plays deep at all games, or because he can drink a great deal. These are all vilifying distinctions, mortifying pre­ferences, and exclude all ideas of esteem and regard. Whoever is had (as it is called (in [Page 83]company, for the sake of any one thing sing­ly, is singly that thing, and will never be considered in any other light; and conse­quently never respected, let his merits be what they will.

Dignity of manners is not only as different from pride, as true courage is from bluster­ing, or true wit from joking; but is absolute­ly inconsistent with it; for nothing vilifies and degrades more than pride. The pre­tensions of the poor man are oftener treated with sheer and contempt, than with indigna­tion; as we offer ridiculously too little to a tradesman, who asks ridiculously too much for his goods: but we do not haggle with one who only asks a just and reasonable price.

Abject flattery and indiscriminate assenta­tion degrade, as much as indiscriminate con­tradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a modest assertion of one's own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence to other people's, preserve dignity.

Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and address, vilify as they imply either a very low turn of mind, or low education and low company.

Frivolous curiosity about trifles, and a la­borious attention to little objects, which nei­ther require nor deserve a moment's thought, lower a man; who from thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of greater matters. [Page 84]Car [...]inal de Reta very sagaciously marked out Cardinal Chig [...] for a little mind, from the moment that he told him he had wrote three years with the same pen, and that it was an excellent good one still.

A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks and motions, gives dignity without excluding it and decent chearfulness, which are always serious themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and a whiffling acti­vity of the body, are strong indications of futility. Whoever is in a hurry, shews that the thing he is about is too big for him. Haste and hurry are very different things.

To conclude: A man who has patiently been kicked, may as well pretend to courage, as a man, blasted by vices and crimes, may to dignity of any kind. But an exterior de­cency and dignity of manners, will even keep such a man longer from sinking, than other­wise he would be. Of such consequence is DECORUM, even though affected and put on.

GENTLENESS of MANNERS, with FIRMNESS, or RESOLUTION of MIND.

I DO not know any one rule so unexcep­tionably useful and necessary in every part of life, as to unite Gentleness of Manners [Page 85]with Firmness of Mind. The first alone would degenerate and sink into a mean timid complai­sance and passiveness, if not supported and dig­nified by the latter, which would also deviate into impetuosity and brutality, if not tempered and softened by the other; however they are seldom united. The warm, choleric man, with strong animal spirits, despises the first, and thinks to carry all before him by the last. He may, possibly, by great accident, now and then succeed, when he has only weak and timid to deal with; but his general fate will be, to shock, offend, be hated, and fall. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty man, thinks to gain all his ends by gentleness of manners only: he becomes all things to all men: he seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the present opinion of the present person; he insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon detected, and surely despised by every body else. The wise man (who differs as much from the cun­ning, as from the choleric man) alone joins foftness of manners with firmness of mind.

The advantages arising from an union of these quali [...]ies, are equally striking and ob­vious. For example: If you are in authority, and have a right to command, your com­mands delivered with mildness and gentleness, will be willingly, chearfully, and consequent­ly well obeyed: whereas, if given brutally, [Page 86]they will rather be interpreted than executed. For a cool steady resolution should show, that where you have a right to command, you will be obeyed; but at the same time, a gentleness in the manner of enforcing that obedience, should make it a cheerful one, and soften, as much as possible, the mortify­ing consciousness of inferiority.

If you are to ask a favour, or even to soli­cit your due, you must do it with a GRACE, or you will give those, who have a mind to refuse you either, a pretence to do it, by re­senting the manner; but on the other hand, you must, by a steady perseverance and de­cent tenaciousness shew firmness and resoluti­on. The right motives are seldom the true ones of men's actions, especially of people in high stations; who often give to impor­tunity and fear, what they would refuse to justice or to merit. By gentleness and soft­ness engage their hearts if you can; at least, prevent the pretence of offence; but take care to show resolution and firmness enough to extort from their love of ease, or their fear, what you might in vain hope for from their justice or good-nature. People in high life are hardened to the wants and distres [...]es of mankind as surgeons are to their bodily pains; they see [...] hear of them all day long, and even of so many simulated ones, that they do not know which are real, and which [Page 87]not. Other sentiments are therefore to be appli­ed to, than those of mere justice and humanity; their favour must be captivated by the graces; their love of ease disturbed by unwearied im­portunity, or their fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of implacable, cool resent­ment. This precept is the only way I know in the world, of being loved without being despised, and feared without being hated. It constitutes the dignity of character, which every wise man must endeavour to establish.

To conclude: If you find that you have a hastiness in your temper, which unguard­edly breaks out into indiscreet sallies, or rough expressions, to either your superiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it nar­rowly, check it carefully, and call the Graces to your assistance: at the first impulse of pas­sion, be silent, till you can be soft. Labour even to get the command of your countenance so well, that those emotions may not be read in it: a most unspeakable advantage in bu­finess! On the other hand, let no complai­sance, no gentleness of temper, no weak de­fire of pleasing on your part, no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, on other people's, make you recede one jo [...] from any point that reason and prudence have bid you pursue; but re­turn to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most things attainable that are possible. A yielding timid meekness is al­ways [Page 88]abused and insulted by the unjust and unfeeling; but when sustained by firmness and resolution, is always respected, commonly successful.

In your friendships and connections, as well as in your enmities, this rule is particularly useful; let your firmness and vigour preserve and invite attachments to you; but at the same time, let your manner hinder the ene­mies of your friends and dependants from be­coming yours: let your enemies be disarmed by the gentleness of your manner; but let them feel, at the same time, the steadiness of your just resentment; for there is great differ­ence between bearing malice, which is al­ways ungenerous, and a resolute self-defence, which is always prudent and justifiable.

Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be easy and civil to those who are either their rivals, competitors, or opposers, though, independently of those accidental circum­stances, they would like and esteem them. They betray a shyness and an awkwardness in company with them, and catch at any little thing to expose them; and so, from tempo­rary and only occasional opponents, make them their personal enemies. This is ex­ceedingly weak and detrimental, as indeed, is all humour in business; which can only be carried on successfully by unadulterated good po [...]cy and right reasoning. In such situations [Page 89]I would be more particularly civil, easy, and frank, with the man whose designs I traversed; this is commonly called generosity and mag­nanimity, but is in truth good sense and po­licy. The manner is often as important as the matter, somet [...]es more so; a favour may make an enemy, and an injury may make a friend, according to the different manner in which they are severally done. In fine, gen­tleness of manners, with firmness of mind, is a short, but full description of human per­fection on this side of religious and moral duties.

MORAL CHARACTER.

THE Moral Character of a man should be not only pure, but, like Caesar's wi [...]e, unsuspected. The least speck, or ble­mish, upon it, is fatal. Nothing degrades and vilifies more, for it excites and unites detestation and contempt. There are, how­ever, wretches in the world profligate enough to explode all notions of moral good and evil; to maintain that they are merely local, and depend entirely upon the customs and fashions of different countries: nay, there are still, if possible, more unaccountable wretches; I mean those who affect to preach and propa­gate such absurd and infamous notions, with­out [Page 90]believing them themselves. [...] much as possible, the company of [...] ple, who reflect a degree of discredit [...] famy upon all who converse with them. [...] you may sometimes, by accident, fall into [...] a company, take great care that no compla [...] ­sance, no good-humour, no warmth of festal mirth, ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much less approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On the other hand, do not de­bate, nor enter into serious argument, upon a subject so much below it: but content your­self with telling them, that you know they are not serious; that you have a much better opinion of them, than they would have you have; and that you are very sure they would not practise the doctrine they preach. But put your private mark upon them, and shun them for ever afterwards.

There is nothing so delicate as a man's mo­ral character, and nothing which it is his in­terest so much to preserve pure. Should he be suspected of injustice, malignity, persidy, lying, &c. all the parts and knowledge in the world will never procure him esteem, friendship, or respect. I, therefore, recom­mend to you a most scrupulous tenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say or do the least thing that may, ever so slightly, taint it. Show yourself, upon all occasions, the friend, but not the bully,

COMMON-PLACE OBSERVATIONS.

her husband. Whereas I presume, that men and their wives neither love nor hate each o­ther the more, upon account of the form of matrimony which has been said over them. The cohabitation, indeed, which is the conse­quence of matrimony, makes them either love or hate more, accordingly as they re­spectively deserve it; but that would be ex­actly the same, between any man and woman who lived together without being married.

It is also a trite, common-place observation, that courts are the seats of falsehood and dis­simulation. That, like many, I might say, most common-place observations, is false. Falsehood and dissimulation are certainly to be found at courts; but where are they not to be found? Cottages have them, as well as courts; only with worse manners. A couple of neighbouring farmers, in a village, will contrive and practise as many tricks, to over­reach each other at the next market, or to supplant each other in the favour of the 'squire, as any two courtiers can do to sup­plant each other in the favour of th [...] prince. Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of rural innocence and truth, and of the per­fidy of courts, this is undoubtedly true— That shepherds and ministers are both men [...] their nature and passions the same, the modes of them only different.

[Page 94] These, and many other common-place re­flections upon nations, or professions, in ge­neral (which are at least as often false as true) are the poor refuge of people who have nei­ther wit nor invention of their own, but en­deavour to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put these pert jackanapes's out of countenance, by looking extremely grave, when they expect that I should laugh at their pleasantries; and by saying, Well, and so; as if they had not done, and that the sting were still to come. This disconcerts them; as they have no resources in themselves, and have but one set of jokes to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to these shifts, and have the utmost contempt for them: they find proper subjects enough for either useful or lively conversati [...]ns, they can be witty without satire or common-place, and serious without being dull.

ORATORY.

ORATORY, or the art of speaking well, is useful in every situation of life, and absolutely necessary in most. A man cannot distinguish himself without it, in parliament, in the pulpit, or at the bar; and even in common conversation, he who has acquired an easy and habitual eloquence, and who [Page 95]speaks with propriety and accuracy, will have a great advantage over those who speak inelegantly and incorrectly. The business of oratory is to persuade; and to please, is the most effectual step towards persuading. It is very advantageous for a man who speaks in public, to please his hearers so much as to gain their attention; which he cannot possi­bly do, without the assistance of pratory.

It is certain, that by study and application, every man may make himself a tolerable good orator, eloquence depending upon observa­tion and care. Every man may, if he pleases, make choice of good instead of bad words and phrases, may speak with propriety instead of impropriety, and may be clear and perspicuous in his recitals, instead of dark and unintelligible: he may have grace instead of awkwardness in his gestures and deport­ment. In short, it is in the power of every man, with pains and application, to be a ve­ry agreeable, instead of a very disagreeable speaker; and it is well worth the labour to excel other men in that particular article in which they excel beasts.

Demosthenes thought it so essentially ne­cessary to speak well, that though he natural­ly stuttered, and had weak lungs, he resolv­ed, by application, to overcome those dis­advantages. He cured his stammering, by [Page 96]putting small pebbles in his mouth, and gra­dually strengthened his lungs, by daily using himself to speak loudly and di [...]ctly for a considerable time. In stormy weather he often visited the sea shore, where he spoke as loud as he could, in order to prepare himself for the noise and murmurs of the popular assemblies of the Athenians, before whom he was to speak. By this extraordinary care and attention, and the constant study of the best authors, he became the greatest orator that his own, or any other age or country have produced.

Whatever language a person uses, he should speak it in its greatest purity, and ac­cording to the rules of grammar: nor is it sufficient that we do not speak a language ill, we must endeavour to speak it well; for which purpose, we should read the best authors with attention, and observe how people of fashion and education speak. Common people, in general, speak ill; they make use of inele­gant and vulgar expressions, which people of rank never do. In numbers they frequently join the singular and the plural together, and confound the masculine with the feminine gender, and seldom make choice of the pro­per tense. To avoid all these faults we should read with attention, and observe the turn and expressions of the best authors; nor should we pass over a word that we do not perfectly [Page 97]understand, without searching or enquiring for the exact meaning of it.

It is said, That a man must be born a poet; but it is in his power to make himself an ora­tor; for to be a poet requires a certain de­gree of strength and vivacity of mind; but that attention, reading and labour, are suf­ficient to form an orator.

PEDANTRY.

EVERY excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred vice or weakness; and, if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into the one or the other. Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice, courage in­to rashness, caution into timidity, and so on: insomuch that I believe, there is more judg­ment required, for the proper [...]onduct of our virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight; and would hardly e­ver seduce us, if it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. But virtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight; engages us more and more, upon further ac­quaintance; and, as with other beauties, we think excess impossible; it is here that judg­ment is necessary, to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. In the same [Page 98]manner, great learning, if not accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us in­to error, pride, and pedantry.

Some learned men, proud of their know­ledge, only speak to decide, and give judg­ment without appeal. The consequence of which is, that mankind, provoked by the in­sult, and injured by the oppression, revolt [...] and, in order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in question. The more you know the modester you should be: and that modesty is the surest way of grati­fying your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem rather doubtful: represent, but do not pronounce: and, if you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself.

Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a school education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of the Ancients as something more than men, and of the Moderns as something less. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets; they stick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern trash; and will show you plainly, that no improve­ment has been made, in any one art or sci­ence, these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you disown your acquaintance with the Ancients; but still less would I have you brag of an exclusive inti­macy with them. Speak of the Moderns [Page 99]without contempt, and of the Ancients with­out idolatry judge them all by their merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither show it nor mention it.

Some great scholars, most absurdly draw all their maxims, both for public and private life, from what they call parallel cases in the ancient authors; without considering, that, in the first place, there never were, since the Creation of the World, two cases exactly parallel: and, in the next place, that there never was a case stated, or even known, by any historian with every one of its circum­stances, which, however, ought to be known in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the case itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly; but not from the authority of ancient poets or histo­rians. Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous; but take them as helps only, not as guides.

There is another species of learned men, who, though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less impertinent. These are the com­municative and shining pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy quotations of Greek and Latin, and who have contracted such a familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors, that they call [Page 100]them by certain names or epithets denoting intimacy. As old Homer; that sly rogue Ho­race; Maro, instead of Virgil; and Naso, instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by coxcombs, who have no learning at all; but who have got some names, and some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and impertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for scho­lars. If, therefore, you would avoid the accusation of pedantry, on one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance, on the other, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the lan­guage of the company that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any other. Ne­ver seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket; and do not pull it out, and strike it, merely to show that you have one. If you are asked what o'clock it is, tell it; but do not pro­claim it hourly and unasked, like the watch­man.

PLEASURE.

MANY young people adopt pleasures, for which they have not the least taste, only because they are called by that name. They often mistake so totally, as to imagine, [Page 101]that debauchery is pleasure. Drunkenness, which is equally destructive to body and mind, is certainly a fine pleasure! Gaming, which draws us into a thousand scrapes, leaves us pennyless, and gives us the air and man­ners of an outrageous madman, is another most exquisite pleasure.

Pleasure is the rock which most young peo­ple split upon: they launch out with crowd­ed sails in quest of it, but without a compass to direct their course, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel; therefore pain and shame, instead of pleasure, are the returns of their voyage.

A man of pleasure, in the vulgar accepta­tion of that phrase, means only a beastly drunkard, an abandoned rake, a profligate swearer: we should weigh the present enjoy­ment of our pleasures against the unavoidable consequences of them, and then let our com­mon sense-determine the choice.

We may enjoy the pleasures of the table and wine, but stop short of the pains inse­parably annexed to an excess in either. We may let other people do as they will, without formally and sententiously rebuking them for it: but we must be firmly resolved not to de­stroy our own faculties and constitution, in compliance to those who have no regard to their own. We may play to give us pleasure, but not to give us pain: we may play for [Page 102]trifles in mixed companies, to amuse our­selves, and conform to custom. Good com­pany are not fond of having a man reeling drunk among [...] [...]or is it agreeable to see another [...]earing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost at play, more than he is able to pay; or a rake with half a nose, crippled by coarse and infamous debauches. Those who practise, and brag of these things, make no part of good company; and are most un­willingly, if ever, admitted into it. A real man of fashion and pleasure observes decen­cy; at least, he neither borrows nor affects vices: and if he is so unfortunate as to have any, he gratifies them with choice, delicacy, and secrecy.

We should be as attentive to our pleasures as to our studies. In the latter, we should observe and reflect upon all we read, and in the former, be watchful and attentive to every thing we see and hear; and let us never have it to say, as fools do of things that were said and done before their faces, ‘That indeed they did not mind them, because they were thinking of something else.’ Why were they thinking of something else? And if they were, why did they come there? Wherever we are we should (as it is vulgarly expressed) have our ears and our eyes about us. We should listen to every thing that is done. Let us observe, without being thought [Page 103]observers; for otherwise, people will be up­on their guard before us.

All gaming, field sports, and such sort of amusements where neither the understanding or the senses have the least share, are frivo­lous, and the resource of little minds, who either do not think, or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of parts either flatter the senses, or improve the mind.

There are liberal and illiberal pleasures, as well as liberal and illiberal arts. Sottish drunkenness, indiscriminate gluttony, driv­ing coaches, rustic sports, [...]ch as sox chases, horse-races, &c. are infinitely below the ho­nest and industrious professions of a taylor and a shoemaker.

The more we apply to business, the more we relish our pleasures: the exercise of the mind in the morning, by study, whets the appetite for the pleasures of the evening, as the exercise of the body whets the appetite for dinner. Business and pleasure, rightly understood, mutually assist each other; instead of being enemies, as foolish or dull people often think them. We cannot taste pleasures truly, unless we earn them by previous busi­ness; and few people do business well, who do nothing else. But when I speak of plea­sures I always mean the elegant pleasures of a rational being, and not the brutal ones of a swine.

PREJUDICES.

NEVER adopt the notions of any books you may read, or of any company you may keep, without examining whether they are just or not, as you will otherwise be liable to be hurried away by prejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherish error, instead of seeking for truth.

Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyse every thing, in order to form a sound and mature judgment; let no ipse dixit impose upon your understanding, mislead your actions, or dictate your conver­sation. Be early, what, if you are not, you will, when too late, wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes: I do not say, that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human reason is not infallible: but it will prove the least erring guide that you can follow. Books and conversation may assist it; but adopt neither, blindly and implicitly; try both by that best rule, which God has given to direct us, Reason. Of all the trou­bles, do not decline, as many people do, that of thinking. The herd of mankind can hardly be said to think; their notions are almost all adoptive; and, in general, I believe it is better that it should be so; as such common prejudices contribute more to [Page 105]order and quiet, than their own separate rea­sonings would do, uncultivated and unim­proved as they are.

Local prejudices prevail only with the herd of mankind; and do not impose upon culti­vated, informed, and reflecting minds: but then there are notions equally false, though not so glaringly absurd, which are enter­tained by people of superior and improved understandings, merely for want of the ne­cessary pains to investigate, the proper atten­tion to examine, and the penetration requisite to determine the truth. Those are the pre­judices which I would have you guard against, by a manly exertion and attention of your reasoning faculty.

RELIGION.

ERRORS and mistakes, however gross, in matters of opinion, if they are sin­cere, are to be pitied; but not punished, nor laughed at. The blindness of the un­derstanding is as much to be pitied, as the blindness of the eyes: and it is neither laughable nor criminal for a man to lose his way in either case. Charity bids us endea­vour to set him right, by arguments and per­suasions; but charity, at the same time, for­bids us either to punish or ridicule his mis­fortune. [Page 106]fortune. Every man seeks for truth, but God only knows who has found it. It is unjust to persecute, and absurd to ridicule people for their several opinions, which they cannot help entertaining upon the conviction of their reason. It is he who tells, or acts a [...]e, that is guilty, and not he who honestly and sincerely believes the lie.

The object of all public worships in the world is the same; it is that great eternal Being who created every thing. The dif­ferent manner, of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each sect thinks his own the best; and I know no infallible judge in this world, to decide which is the best.

EMPLOYMENT OF TIME.

HOW little do we reflect on the use and value of time! It is in every body's mouth, but in few people's practice. Every fool, who slatterns away his whole time in nothings, frequently utters some trite com­mon-place sentence to prove, at once, the value and the fleetness of time. The sun dials, all over Europe, have some ingenious inscrip­tion to that effect: so that nobody squanders away their time without frequently hearing and seeing how necessary it is to employ it well; and how irrecoverable it is if lost. Young [Page 107]people are apt to think they have so much time before them, that they may squander what they please of it, and yet have enough left; as great fortunes have frequently sedu­ced people to a ruinous profusion. But all these admonitions are useless, where there is not a fund of good sense, and reason to sug­gest rather than receive them.

Time is precious, life short, and conse­quently not a single moment should be lost. Sensible men know how to make the most of time, and put out their whole sum either to interest or pleasure: they are never idle, but continually employed either in amusements or study. It is a universal maxim, That idle­ness is the mother of vice. It is, however, certain, that laziness is the inheritance of fools, and nothing can be so despicable as a sluggard. Cato the Censor, a wise and virtuous Roman, used to say, there were but three actions of his life that he regretted. The first was, the having revealed a secret to his wife; the second, that he had once gone by sea when he might have gone by land; and the third, the having passed one day without doing any good.

‘Take care of the pence, for the pounds will take care of themselves.’ was a very just and sensible reflection of old Mr. Lown­des, the famous Secretary of the Treasury, under William III. Anne, and George I. I [Page 108]therefore recommed to you to take care of minutes, for hours will take care of themselves. Be doing something or other all day long; and not neglect half-hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For instance: There are many short intervals in the day, between studies and pleasures; instead of sitting idle and yawn­ing, in those intervals, snatch up some valu­able book, and continue the reading of that book till you have got through it; never bur­den your mind with more than one thing at a time: and, in reading this book, do not run over it superficially, but read every pass­age twice over, at least do not pass on to a second, till you thoroughly understand the first, nor quit the book till you are master of the subject; for unless you do this, you may read it through, and not remember the contents of it for a week. The books I would par­ticularly recommend, among others, are the Marchioness Lambert's advice to her son and daughter, Cardinal Retz's Maxims, Rochfou­cault's Moral Reflections, Bruyere's Characters, Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds, Sir Josiah Child on Trade, Bolingbroke's Works; for style, his Remarks on the History of England, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle; Puffendorff's Jus Gentium, and Grotius de Jure Belli et Pa­cis: the last two are well translated by Bar­berac. For occasional half-hours or less, read [Page 109]works of invention, wit and humour; but never waste your minutes on trifling authors, either ancient or modern.

Nor are pleasure, idleness, or time lost, provided they are the pleasures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain portion of time employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed.

Whatever business you have, do it the first moment you can; never by halves but finish it without interruption, if possible. Business must not be sauntered and trifled with; and you must not say to it as Felix did to Paul, "at a more convenient season I will speak to thee." The most convenient season for busi­ness is the first; but study and business in some measure, point out their own times, to a man of sense; time is much oftener squan­dered away in the wrong choice and impro­per methods of amusement and pleasures.

Dispatch is the soul of business; and no­thing contributes more to dispatch than me­thod. Lay down a method for every thing, and stick to it inviolable, as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in the week for your accounts, and keep them together in their proper order; by which means they will require very little time, and you can never be much cheated. Whatever letters and papers you keep, docket [Page 110]and tie them up in their respective classes, so that you may instantly have recourse to any one. Lay down a method also for your reading, for which you allot a certain share of your mornings; let it be a consistent and consecutive course, and not in that desultory and immethodical manner, in which many people read scraps of different authors upon different subjects. Keep a useful and short common place book of what you read, to help your memory only, and not for pedantic quotations. Never read History without having maps, and a chronological book, or tables, lying by you, and constantly recurred to; without which, History is only a con­fused heap of facts.

You will say, it may be, as many young people would, that all this order and method is very troublesome, only fit for dull people, and a disagreeable restraint upon the noble fire of Youth. I deny it; and assert on the contrary, that it will procure you both more time and more taste for your pleasures; and, so far from being troublesome to you, that, after you have pursued it a month, it would be troublesome to you to lay it aside. Busi­ness whets the appetite, and gives a taste to pleasures, as exercise does to food: and busi­ness can never be done without method: it raises the spirits for pleasures; and a spectacle, a ball, an assembly, will much more sensibly [Page 111]affect a man who has employed, than a man who has lost the preceding part of the day; nay, I will venture to say, that a fine lady will seem to have more charms to a man of study or business, than to a saunterer. The same listlessness runs through his whole con­duct, and he is as insipid in his pleasures, as inefficient in every thing else

I hope you earn your pleasures, and conse­quently taste them: for by the way, I know a great many men who call themselves Men of pleasure, but who, in truth, have none. They adopt other people's indiscriminately, but without any taste of their own. I have known them often inflict excesses upon them­selves, because they thought them genteel; though they sat as aukwardly upon them as other people's clothes would have done. Have no pleasures but your own, and then you will shine in them.

Many people think that they are in plea­sures, provided they are neither in study nor in business. Nothing like it: they are doing nothing, and might just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes from laziness, and they only frequent those places where they are free from all restraints and attentions. Be upon your guard against this idle profusi­on of time; and let every place you go to be either the scene of quick and lively plea­sures, [Page 112]or the school of your improvements: let every company you go into, either gratify your senses, extend your knowledge, or re­fine your manners.

If, by accident, two or three hours are sometimes wanting for some useful purpose, borrow them from your sleep. Six or at most seven hours sleep is, for a constancy, as much as you or any body can want: more is only laziness and dozing; and is both unwholsome and stupifying. If, by chance, your business or your pleasures, should keep you up till four or five o'clock in the morning rise exact­ly at your usual time, that you may not lose the precious morning hours; and that the want of sleep may force you to go to bed earlier the next night.

Above all things, guard against frivolous­ness. The frivolous mind is always busied but to little purpose; it takes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon trifles that time and attention which only important things deserve. Nicknacks, butterflies, shells, insects, &c. are the objects of their most se­ries researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters, of the company they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play, than to the sense of it; and to the ce­remonies of a court, more than to its politics. Such an employment of time is absolute loss of it.

[Page 113] To conclude this subject: Sloth, indolence, and effeminacy, are pernicious and unbecom­ing a young fellow; let them be your re­source forty years hence at soonest. Deter­mine at all events, and however disagreeable it may be to you in some respects, and for some time, to keep the most distinguished and fashionable company of the place you are at, either for their rank, or for their learning, or le bel esprit et le gout. This gives you cre­dentials to the best companies, where-ever you go afterwards.

Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination; never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. That was the rule of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt; who, by strictly following it, found time not only to do the whole business of the Republic, but to pass his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as if he had had nothing else to do or think of.

VANITY.

BE extremely on your guard against vani­ty, the common failing of inexperienced youth; but particularly against that kind of [Page 114]vanity that dubbs a man a coxcomb; a cha­racter which once acquired, is more indelible than that of the priesthood. It is not to be imagined by how many different ways vanity defeats its own purposes. One man decides peremptorily upon every subject, betrays his ignorance upon many, and shews a disgusting presumption upon the rest: another desires to appear successful among the women; he hints at the encouragement he has received from those of the most distinguished rank and beauty, and intimates a particular connection with some one: if it is true, it is ungene­rous; if false, it is infamous: but in either case he destroys the reputation he wants to get. Some flatter their vanity, by little ex­traneous objects, which have not the least re­lation to themselves; such as being descended from, related to, or acquainted with people of distinguished merit, and eminent charac­ters. They talk perpetually of their grand­father such a-one, their uncle, and their inti­mate friend, Mr. such-a one, whom possibly, they are hardly acquainted with. But ad­mitting it a [...]l to be as they would have it, what then? Have they the more merit for those accidents? Certainly not. On the con­trary▪ their taking up adventitious, proves want of intrinsic merit; a rich man never borrows. Take this rule for granted, as a never falling one, That you must never seem [Page 115]to affect the character in which you have a mind to shine. Modesty is the only sure bait, when you angle for praise. The affec­tation of courage will make even a brave man pass only for a bully; as the affectation of wit will make a man of parts pass for a cox­comb. By this modesty I do not mean timi­dity, but awkward bashfulness. On the con­trary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value, whatever it may be, and act upon that principle; but take great care to let nobody discover that you do know your own value. Whatever real merit you have, other people will discover; and peo­ple always magnify their own discoveries, as they lessen those of others.

VIRTUE.

VIRTUE is a subject which deserves your and every man's attention. It consists in doing good, and in speaking truth; the effects of it therefore, are advantageous to all mankind, and to one's self in particular; virtue makes us pity and relieve the mis­fortunes of mankind; it makes us pro­mote justice and good order in society; and, in general, contributes to whatever tends to the real good of mankind. To [Page 116]ourselves it gives inward comfort and sa­tisfaction, which nothing else can do, and which nothing can rob us of. All other ad­vantages depend upon others, as much as upon ourselves. Riches, power, and great­ness, may be taken away from us, by the vio­lence and injustice of others, or by inevitable accidents; but virtue depends only upon our­selves, and nobody can take it away from us. Sickness may deprive us of all the pleasures of the body; but it cannot deprive us of our virtue, nor of the satisfaction which we feel from it. A virtuous man, under all the misfortunes of life, still finds inward comfort and satisfaction, which makes him happier, than any wicked man can be with all the other advantages of life. If a man has ac­quired great power and riches by falsehood, injustice, and oppression, he cannot enjoy them, because his conscience will torment him, and constantly reproach him with the means by which he got them. The stings of his conscience will not even let him sleep quietly; but he will dream of his crimes: and in the day-time, when alone, and when he has time to think, he will be uneasy and melancholy. He is afraid of every thing; for, as he knows mankind must hate him, he has reason to think they will hurt him if they can. Whereas if a virtuous man be ever so poor or unfortunate in the world, still his [Page 117]virtue is its own reward, and will comfort him under all afflictions. The quiet and satis­faction of his conscience make him chearful by day, and sleep sound by nights; he can be alone with pleasure, and is not afraid of his own thoughts. Virtue forces her way, and shines through the obscurity of a retired life; and, sooner or later, it always is rewarded.

To conclude:—Lord Shaftsbury says, that he would be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody were to know it; as he would be clean for his own sake, though nobody were to see him.