ON TRUE and FALSE URBANITY.

SECT. I.

I. The signification of the word Urbanity is equivocal, so that when you read it in different authors who lived in distinct times, you will find, the sense they understood it in varied exceedingly. It’s immediate derivation is from the Latin word Urbanus, which springs from urbs a city; but notwithstanding this, it did not imply city in general; for it’s meaning at first, was confined in an especial manner to signify the city of Rome.

II. The reason of this was, that the word urbanus began to be first made use of, at the time that the Roman republic was in the zenith of it’s prosperity, and this may be evidently inferred, from Quintilian’s saying the word was new in the days of Cicero; Cicero favorem, et urbanum nova credit. It was then that the generical word urbs began to be used by way of eminence, to signify the city of Rome, on account of it’s portentous grandeur; and with the same pace that Rome proceeded to domineer over the world, that sort of culture which the Romans looked upon as an excellence peculiar to themselves, proceeded to gain ground, and prevail in the city, and it was then that the Romans began to make use of the word Urbanus, to express that compound sort of cultivation that people received there, which seemed not to be confined to letters and sciences only, but also to comprehend manner and punctillo also; homo urbanus, sermo urbanus; and they used the word urbanitas, to express those accomplishments in an abstracted sense.

III. But all authors did not give the same extension to the cultivation implied by the word urbanitas. Cicero, as we know from his book de claris oratoribus, restrained it to a graceful manner of speaking, which was peculiar to the Romans.

IV. Quintilian thinks, the graceful manner of speaking, which was peculiar to the Romans, and which consisted in their proper choice of words, their just application of them, and the decent tone of their voices, did not comprehend the whole, but was only a part of the accomplishment that was meant to be expressed by the term Urbanity; and he assigns as another part appertaining to it, a tincture of erudition acquired by frequent conversation with learned men; nam, et urbanitas dicitur, qua quidem significari sermonem præ se ferentem in verbis, et sono, et usu proprium quemdam gustum urbis, et sumptam ex conversatione doctorum tacitam eruditionem, denique cui contraria sit rusticitas.

V. Domitius Marsus, an author who lived about mid-way between the days of Cicero and Quintilian, and who wrote a treatise upon Urbanity, which we are indebted to Quintilian for the knowledge of, strikes into a new track, and maintains Urbanity to consist in the keenness and force of a short pithy expression, which delights and inclines the hearer to be affected in the manner the speaker could wish; and which is well adapted to excite either resistance or assent, according to the circumstances of persons and things: Urbanitas est virtus quædam in breve dictum coacta, et apta ad delectandos, movendosque in omnem affectum animos, maxime idonea ad resistendum, vel lacessendum, prout quæque res ac persona desiderant. (Quintilian ubi supra.) This definition is truly confused, and either explains nothing, or else, only explains a particular idea of the author, distinct from every thing that has hitherto been understood, respecting the meaning of the word Urbanity.

VI. The moral philosophers, who have studied and laboured to explain the admirable ethics of Aristotle, have considered this word as equivalent to the Greek one Eutrapelia, which Aristotle made use of to express that virtue, which influences people to observe moderation in the tone of their voice, and their manner of expressing themselves; as vicious extremes in these particulars, were apt to degenerate into rusticity, or else, to be attended with scurrility and buffoonry; and these are the sentiments of our cardinal Aguirre and count Manuel Thesaurus.

VII. But neither the word urbanity, nor that of rusticity, which is its opposite, are made use of to express at present, what they were understood to imply formerly. They call him now-a-days, an agreeable or well-bred man, and not a man of urbanity, who speaks in a moderate and pleasing tone of voice, and who expresses himself in decent and opportune phrases; and he who delivers himself in an opposite manner, they do not call a rustic, but a coarse or an unpleasant man, or else describe him by phrases that are equivalent to those.

SECT. II.

VIII. But to come to the acceptation that is given to the word Urbanity in these present times, and to the sense in which it seems now to be generally understood in Spain, it signifies the same as Cortesania; but it is also true, that some give a more limited, and some a more extensive signification to this phrase. There are those who understand cortesane, or courteous, to mean the same as well-bred, and to express a man who in his commerce with other men, conducts himself with that decorum and ceremony which is prescribed by good education. But amongst those who define things with propriety, I believe a courteous man is understood to mean one, who, by his natural disposition, has a propensity in all his words and actions, to conduct himself with that temper and manner, that makes his conversation and company agreeable and pleasing to the rest of mankind. Taken in this sense, the Spanish word Cortesania, is equivalent to the French one Politesse, to the Italian one Civilitá, and to the Latin one Comitas.

IX. The derivation of the word Cortesania, is analogous to that of Urbanitas; for as this last was taken from the word Urbs, which according to the custom then in use, was looked upon to be applicable to the city of Rome, which was then the capital of a very great part of the world, the term Urbanity was understood to imply, that sort of cultivation which was then in vogue at Rome. Just so Cortesania, which in Spain is derived from Corte, or court, where it is generally supposed people behave with the greatest politeness is understood to imply that sort of good breeding which is generally practised there, and which we express by the term Cortesania.

X. Understanding then the word Urbanity in this sense, I shall define it in the following manner; that it is a virtue, or virtuous habit, which directs and leads a man both in his words and actions in such a way, as makes his company and behaviour savoury, grateful, and engaging, to the rest of mankind. I shall not embarrass myself, about whether some people think this definition too redundant, and that it seems to express more than the term Urbanity implies. I adjust the definition to the interpretation I myself put upon the term, and to the sense it is understood in, by those who have treated of the subject in the most approved manner. Those who give less extension to the word, may, if they please, define the thing in another manner. Disputes about definitions are mere nominal questions, and may not improperly be called playing upon words. Every one defines a thing, according to the acceptation he gives to the word that expresses it. If all men were to agree in the acceptation of a word, they would scarce ever differ in the definition of the object that is expressed by it; but the misfortune is, that the same word, excites in different people different ideas with respect to the meaning of it, and hence it is, that we see such a variety of definitions.

XI. There is no doubt, but that all the particulars which compose a courteous carriage, should lead to the attainment of a certain end, and should be calculated to induce a certain manner in all a man’s exterior behaviour, that should be free from any mixture of the indecent, the offensive, or the tiresome; but that on the contrary it should rather be combined, with the grateful, the decent, and the opportune.

XII. Urbanity, like all other moral virtues, is placed between two vicious extremes; one of which it is apt to run into by exceeding, and the other by deficiency, or not doing enough. The first is occasioned by that excessive complaisance which borders upon meanness; and the second, by a rigid unsavoury reserve, which has the appearance of rusticity.

SECT. III.

XIII. As there is no virtue, whose use is so general and common as than of Urbanity, so there is no one which is so much counterfeited and falsified by hypocrisy. There are men who by seldom finding themselves in a situation to exercise some particular virtues, are not very anxious about contriving means to imitate them by hypocrisy; but as Urbanity is a virtue that all men have opportunities of exercising, it is in the power of all men to counterfeit it by deceit. In truth, the hypocrites in the line of Urbanity are innumerable. All the world super-abound with expressions of submission and profound respect, with obsequious offers, and with exaggerated professions of esteem, with smiling countenances, whose essence consists in the command they have of their features, and in expressions of their lips, in which their hearts have not the least share; but on the contrary, are rather impressed with sentiments, that are quite opposite to those false appearances, and mock demonstrations.

XIV. What, then, should Urbanity be implanted in the heart? Without doubt it should, or it is at least from thence that it ought to derive its origin. If it was otherwise, how could it be a virtue? Reason tells us, that there is an honest complaisance due from one man to another; and whatever reason dictates should be esteemed a virtue. But how can a lying, deceitful, and affected complaisance be a virtue? It is evident it cannot. Urbanity then should arise from the bottom of the soul. What does not do that, is not Urbanity, but hypocrisy that counterfeits it. An honest soul, stands in no need of fiction to assist it in the observance of all those attentions which compose good-breeding, because it is naturally inclined to the observance of them, left alone to itself. By an innate propensity, accompanied by the light of reason, such a one will never, upon any occasion, be found wanting in the respect that is due to his superiors, nor in the condescension he should shew to his equals, nor in the affability he should practice with his inferiors, nor in the good-will and gracious manner, with which he should manifest to all men, both in words and deeds, these laudable dispositions of his mind, and his love of human society.

XV. I am not ignorant, that Urbanity is commonly understood to consist in our external testification of respect and benevolence to those with whom we converse. But if this testification, is not accompanied with the affections of the mind that are expressed by it, it becomes deceitful, and cannot possibly constitute that sort of urbanity, which consists in a virtuous habit; for in order to constitute such a one, it would be necessary that the testification should be sincere, which amounts to the same as saying, that there is essentially included in urbanity, the existence of those sentiments, which are expressed by courteous words and actions.

SECT. IV.

XVI. It is certain, that courts are the great public schools of true Urbanity; but they have mixed so much false in those schools in the practice of it, that some have been led to think, it has nearly obscured the true, of which, there seems to be scarce any thing left but the mere appearance. I believe, that without disparagement to any other courts we ever heard of, those of antient Rome, and modern Paris, may be esteemed the most cultivated and polite that have been known in the world. After mentioning this, let us hear what two authors say who were well versed in the practice of them both. The first is Juvenal, who clearly gives us to understand, that he who could not lie and flatter should withdraw from court, as there were no hopes of his getting any thing by his attendance there—

XVII. The second is the abbot Boileau, a famous preacher at Paris in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. This eminent man, in a treatise he published, entitled Choice Thoughts or Reflexions, drew such a picture of the court of Versailles, as shews the Urbanity exercised there, had degenerated not only into dissimulation, but even into treachery, although he admits, this was not the practice of every one who attended it. These are his words:

XVIII. “What are the manners and behaviour of a courtier? Why they consist in flattering his enemies while he is afraid of their power; and in endeavouring to destroy them whenever he finds an opportunity for doing it; in being civil to, and making use of his friends when he stands in need of their assistance, and in turning his back upon them when they can be of no further service to him; in seeking out powerful protectors, whom he fawns on, and idolizes exteriorly, and frequently despises in secret.

XIX. “Courtly Urbanity, consists in converting dissimulation and deceit, into the law or rule of a man’s actions; and representing all sorts of people in such colours, as your interest dictates to you that you should paint them; in bearing slights and disappointments with a forced reserve, and in awaiting with a strained appearance of modesty and composure, the favours of Fortune.

XX. “In a court, for the most part there is no sincerity, but almost every thing you see there, is compounded of hypocrisy, deceit, and malevolence; for example, in peoples doing underhand ill offices to each other; in contriving and laying snares that nobody can be aware of; in bearing painful and mortifying disgusts with a smiling countenance; and in hiding under an apparent shew of modesty, the pride of Lucifer. It is very common in a court, for a man not to be permitted to love whom he likes, to do what he should, nor to speak what he thinks. It is necessary to keep silence, in order to conceal your sentiments, and it is also necessary, to acquire a facility at changing them. You must applaud, abuse, love, abhor, speak, and live, not according to your own liking or inclination, but in conformity to the arbitrary will and caprice of other people.

XXI. “In what do the other manners and mode of a man’s conducting himself consist in a courtier? Why in dissembling injuries, and in revenging them; in flattering his enemies, and in destroying them; in promising every thing for the sake of obtaining a dignity or promotion, and in performing none of these promises after he has got it; in repaying favours with words, services with plausible assurances, and debts with threatenings. At court, they in the same breath implore and execrate Fortune, applaud and despise merit; and they also disguise the truth, under an ostentatious appearance of frankness.”

XXII. I believe there is a great deal of this sort of dissimulation all over the world; but it is natural to suppose, there is more of it practised in courts than in other places, for the incitements to the exercise of the before-mentioned vices, are generally stronger there, than they are found to be out of those circles. There is not a passion nor an appetite, which there a man does not seem within reach of indulging, and the objects which stimulate his desires, shine forth there also in their greatest splendor. The ambitious man fancies himself on the point of grasping honours, and the covetous one riches. The pretenders are vying with each other, the emulous contending with the emulous, and the envious with the envied. There the success of the unworthy man, is staring the neglected deserving one in the face, and there the hands of the unskilful artist fully employed, is exhibiting a disgusting spectacle, to the able one who has nothing to do. And although a modest man who only views this at a great distance, or who only hears it from report, may reason upon it, and contain himself like a philosopher, still, when the mortifying prospect is so near him, he can scarce speak of the thing with temper, nor look upon it without falling into a passion. Thus it is almost morally impossible, that the hearts of the neglected men should not be in a continual state of fermentation, and their feelings in a tumultuous agitation, which is attended, not so much with the corruption of the men themselves, as with that of their manners.

XXIII. But notwithstanding all that has been alledged, we ought to conclude, that the two before-named authors exaggerated the evils they meant to reprehend. There is a great deal of bad in courts, but there is also some good to be found in them. The complaints that merit is neglected, are frequently nothing more than sighs, which express the grief and disappointments of the heart from whence they proceed. The same man who laments political mismanagement, while he is not permitted to go beyond the porch of the favourite’s house, when he has once gained admittance into it, begins to applaud his conduct, as he ascends the steps leading to his levee-room; which is a proof that what he meant by mismanagement and a bad conducted government, was such a one as he got nothing under, and that what he understands by a good one, is such a one as is advantageous to him. I have at all times heard the administration ill spoken of, but if we come to enquire by whom, we shall find it is chiefly done, by importunate candidates for places and employments, who are unable to attain what they never deserved, and by litigious suitors, who were justly disappointed of success in their vexatious attempts, and who have been condemned to pay costs, for commencing unjust prosecutions; by delinquents who have been legally mulcted for their misdeeds; by ignorant people who have passed for men of understanding, and who without having studied in any other school, than that of a coffee-house or a club-room, have presumed to give positive opinions, upon the most important and difficult political and military questions; and finally, by weak people, who fancy that a good government can effect impossibilities, and that they are able to make all the subjects of a state, happy and contented.

XXIV. Neither my genius, nor my destiny have allowed me to have much intercourse with ministers in high stations; but I have heard sincere judicious men, who have known many of them well, speak of them, in terms very different from those they have been spoken of by the vulgar; and who have expressed a different opinion, both of their abilities and their intentions, from that which has been commonly propagated. Nor indeed is it credible, that princes, who generally know men’s political characters better than private people, should make choice of men for their ministers, who are either incapable, or wickedly disposed. If in case that they should have been mistaken in the opinion they entertained of them, and they find upon trying them, that they are not equal to conduct the business they have confided to their management, they may easily remove them. Thus it is utterly improbable to me, that a man destitute of all merit, should for any length of time, occupy a post of great importance, or have the ear of his sovereign.

XXV. With respect to inferior ministers, such for example, as the principal people and magistrates in the provinces, I have had a great deal of experience, and protest, that for the most part, I have found them to be the best sort of men to be met with in the country. I say for the most part, for it cannot be denied, that among this class, there are men to be found that are not very upright, and more than a little addicted to avarice. And by what I find the principal directors, lawyers, and magistrates in the country to be, I judge of those about the court; and it seems natural to me, that the higher the sphere of life is in which people move, they are the more stimulated by motives of honour, and less likely to descend to, or be guilty of mean actions.

SECT. V.

XXVI. Neither do I believe above half that is said, of the neglect that is shewn to merit, and the abandoned situation it finds itself in at court; for the number of candidates for preferment that may be found there, who have no merit at all, would upon enquiry appear to be very considerable, and that among them, you will meet with mischief-makers, together with crafty, deceitful, and treacherous people, whose bad practices and characters, it is almost beyond the power of language to describe; who are a sort of imps of Satan, that for the most part serve the Devil without pay; and are a kind of galley slaves upon earth, who join to that slavery, being the galley boatswains mates, or drivers of each other, whose oar, and whose scourge, are never out of their hands, for fear of their not being the first to arrive at the desired port, and to accomplish what they had in view. They are a species of idolaters of Fortune, who sacrifice as victims to that deity, their companions, their relations, their friends, and their benefactors; and in the end themselves also, or their own souls. What have we not to expect, or what have we not to fear from men of this character?

XXVII. I have been three times at court, but either from my natural incuriosity, or because my stay there each time was but short, I came away as ignorant of the practices of a court, as I went; and only took particular notice of one circumstance, which is relative to the subject I am now treating of. I saw there, as in other places, Urbanity degenerate into that fulsome kind of ceremony, which may be termed cringing complaisance. Accident furnished me with numberless opportunities of seeing such things; and I have frequently observed two people who have usually met together in their walks, and who, as I have been informed, had a tolerable indifference for each other, and even looked upon one another with reciprocal contempt; I say I have seen these people upon their meeting, strive which should excel in expressions of the love, veneration and respect they bore to each other. There was scarce a word came out of their mouths, which was not accompanied with some affected gestures. Their eyes cast glances of tender devotion on each other, and milk and honey flowed from their lips; but at the same time their affectation was so palpable, that any man of the least discernment, might have perceived the disagreement there was, between their hearts and their appearances. I laughed inwardly at them both, and I believe they also in their hearts, laughed mutually at each other.

XXVIII. I saw once two lawyers accost each other, with such extreme expressions of tenderness, that a Portuguese might have learned from them, phrases and gestures for feats of gallantry. Both these people had places at court, on which account they could not avoid seeing each other pretty frequently; and there was no friendship between them; notwithstanding which, their expressions were like those of the most cordial friends, who had met together after a long absence.

XXXIX. Having expressed to some people who were used to the court, how disgusting this appeared to me, they answered that this was behaving in the court stile; but would not any one who hears this, conclude the court was nothing but a comic theatre, where all the world act the part of enamoratos; although to speak the truth, it was only in spirits of inferior order, that I noted this amorous kind of farrago. In those of more elevated hearts and minds, if they don’t owe the thing to their own genius and disposition, the education of a court produces a better effect, and exhibits people of a more noble behaviour, and such as is proper to, and expressive of true urbanity. I say I have observed in such, affability, sweetness, expressions of benevolence, and offers of kind services; all which were tendered with propriety, and in a decent generous manner, free from affected exaggerations, but animated at the same time, and expressed with so natural an air, that the articulations of the tongue, were indications of the emotions of the mind, and the feelings of the heart.

XXX. Cato, as Tully tells us, said, he wondered how two augurs whenever they met, could refrain from laughing at each other; as they both well knew, that their whole art was a mere imposture. I think the saying may be applied to two fulsomely complaisant courtiers; for I do not see how those who have once saluted each other in this cringing and affected way, can upon meeting again, forbear laughing in each others faces, as they both know, that all the hyperbolical professions of their esteem, affection, and readiness to oblige, mean nothing, and that this is all a mere common-place farrago or rhapsody, quite destitute of truth or reality.

XXXI. I have said, that in the lesser towns I have visited, I have not observed so much by a great deal, of this ridiculous parade. It is true, that you will find in them, some few people who walk about the streets with incense in their hands, to offer up to, and idolize all those, whom they fancy can be of any service to them; but they are looked upon like what they are, not as men of worth, but as men of craft, whose incense smells savoury in the nostrils of none but fools. This sort of behaviour about the court, frequently passes for good-breeding; but in these other places it is condemned as meanness.

SECT. VI.

XXXII. I am persuaded that solid and brilliant urbanity, has much more of the natural than the acquired in its composition. A good, sound, and unembarrassed mind, accompanied with discretion, which is gentle without meanness, and is disposed by genius and inclination to conform to every thing that is not contrary to reason, to which dispositions there is annexed a clear understanding, or native prudence, which dictates to a man how he should speak and act, according to the different circumstances and situations in which he finds himself, will, without studying in any school, acquit himself well, and appear agreeable in his commerce with mankind. It is true, that he will be deficient in his knowledge of those forms, modes, and ceremonies, which people study in courts, and which are changed by caprice at every turn; but in the first place, natural advantages, which always are intrinsically valuable, and which will ever operate, will supply upon ordinary occasions, the want of studied forms; and secondly, a modest and candid confession, to those you happen to be in company with, of your ignorance of political forms and ceremonies, on account of your having been born and bred in the provinces where they are not generally practised, will be a sufficient excuse for your transgression of those forms, and even your doing this, will appear better in the eyes of reasonable people, than your observing a strained and scrupulous attention to them.

XXXIII. I have availed myself many times of this resource at court; where I have made no scruple to declare, that I was born and bred in a small country town; and that I early entered myself a member of a religious order, whose principal care it was, to seclude its sons, and especially in their youth, from all commerce with the world. That my genius naturally disposed me to abhor bustle, and avoid great concourses of people; and excepting three years that I was a student at Salamanca, which may not improperly be termed three years of solitude, on account of the heads of our college not permitting their young members to have the least intercourse with secular people; I say excepting these three years, I have lived all the rest of my life, in Galicia and Asturias, which are provinces at a great distance from court; and besides all this, I have a natural dislike to studying ceremonies; but I am aware however, that not only the substance, but the forms of them also, are necessary to political society; although I do not consider that as an important form, which consists of rules that are established to-day, and changed to-morrow, just as whim and caprice dictate; some of which forms, or modes, prevail in one country, and are different in another; but I mean to speak of those forms or modes only, which reason dictates should be observed in all times, and in all places. From the before-named declaration, it may be easily conceived how little I understand of courtly ceremonies; notwithstanding which, with the assistance of the above frank confession, I never found myself the least embarrassed, and I perceived, nothing I said or did appeared disagreeable to those I conversed with, but that rather on the contrary, my natural behaviour seemed pleasing to them.

XXXIV. Men of sublime spirits and elevated understanding, possess a natural privilege to dispense with formalities whenever they think proper; just as musicians of great genius are allowed upon many occasions, to depart from the common rules of their art; their doing which, hardly ever renders the music ungrateful to the ear; so men who are endowed with great talents, and display a manifest superiority in conversation, may dispense with the ordinary and common methods of speaking, without ever offending the ears of their auditors. Natural advantages shine forth with a greater lustre, and are more solid, and more pleasing than borrowed acquisitions. Thus the world are well satisfied, to accept the first in the room of the last, and look upon themselves as over-paid for the loss of the one, by the introduction of the other in its stead.

XXXV. I was even about to say, that the establishment of ceremonies of urbanity, was only calculated for people of middling or inferior geniuses, and was meant as a succedaneum for a discretion so superior to that which the others we have mentioned possess, as to be capable of dictating of itself, the rule of deportment one man should observe to another. I believe it happens in this, with very little difference, the same that it happens in all material movements. There are men, who naturally and without any teaching, have a grace and air in all their actions, in the motions of their hands, and their feet, in the bending their bodies, and inclining their heads, in the casting downwards and lifting up their eyes, and in whom in every motion and gesture, all is done with such a native grace, that it enamours those who behold them; and is that sort of excellence, which is described by Tibullus to have been possessed by Sulpicia:

I should consider it as very useless and unnecessary, to prescribe rules for the carriage and actions of such sort of people. Let precepts be kept for the use of those who are naturally aukward, and let them be tried to see whether by art, they can mend this defect of nature.

XXXVI. It is only with respect to two sorts of people, that no body is allowed to be exempt from observing ceremony, and they are princes and women. The first, from time immemorial, have instituted ceremonies as essential appendages to majesty. The second, from education and habit, have been taught, and accustomed to regard as the substance, what in reality is an accidental or visionary entity, and even to prefer this visionary or accidental entity, to the substance itself. Thus they are apt to disesteem the most discreet and agreeable man in the world, and to give the preference to one of much inferior talents, because he is well instructed in fashionable formalities, and is a strict observer of them. I except from this number, the women of superior abilities, who know as well as any body, how to distinguish, and do justice to true merit.

SECT. VII.

XXXVII. Whether this native grace is an integrant part of, or an ornament to that urbanity, which seasons and adorns men’s words and actions, it is certain, that study and art can never supply the defect of it.

XXXVIII. This is that sort of perfection, which Plutarch extols in Agesilaus, and by the help of which, he observes, that although he was but a little man, and his figure rather contemptible, he in his old age, appeared more amiable and engaging, than any of the handsome young fellows. Dicitur autem pusillus fuisse, et specie aspernanda; cæterum hilaritas ejus omnibus horis, et urbanitas aliena ab omni, vel vocis, vel vultus morositate, et acerbitate, amabiliorem eum ad senectutem usque præbuit omnibus formosis.

XXXIX. This is that species of seasoning of which Quintilian speaks, when he says, that it makes the same sentence seem to come better from the mouth of one man than another: Inest proprius quibusdam decor in habitu, atque vultu, ut eadem illa minus, dicente alio, videantur urbana esse.

XL. This is that kind of ornament, which Cicero called the colour, or blazon of urbanity, and instances Brutus, as one who was tinged with it in great perfection, but when he came to explain or describe this blazon, he defined it to have consisted of a mysterious je ne scai quoi. These are his words, taken from his dialogue De claris Oratoribus: et Brutus, quis est, inquit, tandem urbanitatis color? Nescio, inquam, tantum esse quendam scio. Which last expression, I am obliged to decipher by the sentence Je ne scai quoi, as I can find no other that is equivalent to it. This native grace, or if you please to call it by the figurative name Cicero has expressed it by, this colouring of urbanity, is composed of many particulars. For example, the neatness of the articulation, the good tone, and the harmonious flexibility of the voice, the graceful attitude of the body, the well regulated movements of the action, the amiable modesty of the carriage or manner, and the striking or lively expression of the eyes, are the parts, which constitute the whole of this grace.

XLI. It is easy to perceive, that all the before-mentioned are gifts of nature; which can never be acquired by study, or supplied by instruction. Many people have hoped to succeed, by attempting to imitate those, in whom these natural gifts are resplendent, or to speak more properly, are a part of their nature; but the very means they employ to give themselves a pleasing and agreeable air, cause them to appear ridiculous. That which is a grace in the original, has often an apish look in the copy. The imitation of natural endowments, seldom amounts to more, than a contemptible mock semblance of them. The affectation in these attempts is glaring and palpable, and all affectation is surfeiting.

XLII. I shall only state two limitations, or exceptions, to the possibility of acquiring those parts of gracefulness, which consist in the position of the body, and the motion of its members; and shall admit in the first place, that these may in some measure be acquired by imitation; but when? why when people do not think of acquiring them, and are not sensible that they do acquire them; that is in their infant state. It is then that nature is so pliant and flexible, that like soft wax, it may be easily molded to any shape, and made to receive any impression; and hence it is, that we frequently see children in their ordinary actions and motions, greatly resemble their parents.

XLIII. In Galicia where I was born, there are many people who understand Spanish perfectly well, who speak it in a drawling sort of a way, and by leaving out now and then a letter, are apt to lose the exact and proper pronunciation. Many have attributed this defect, to the imperfect organization of the tongues of the people of Galicia, produced by the influence of the climate; but it is no such thing, for this vicious pronunciation, is derived from the bad habit of speaking they contract in their infancy; and it is evident that it proceeds from thence, because many Galician children who have been carried from home when they were very young, and have been afterwards brought up and educated at Castile, some of whom I have seen, pronounce the Castilian language with as much clearness and readiness, as the natives of that province themselves. It is not many years ago, that there was a celebrated actress, who was born in a small village in Galicia, and who was carried to court by her uncle at four years old, and was there trained up to the stage, and who was greatly admired for her neat and ready pronunciation.

XLIV. The second limitation and exception I admit to the position I have advanced, is, that both a vicious pronunciation, and an aukwardness of motion and manner, may be greatly corrected and amended, even after people are grown to a state of maturity, and especially when these defects proceed from bad habits contracted in their youth. But in order to accomplish this, there is need of great perseverance and application. Even an inveterate bad habit, may be torn up by the roots by applying vast force and exertion to eradicate it; but when the fibres of the root, are inserted into the profundities of nature, all endeavours are vain.

SECT. VIII.

XLV. Although Urbanity, with respect to the most brilliant and beautiful parts of it, which we describe by the term gracefulness, as we have before observed, depends very little upon study or instruction, still in all its substantial and essential parts, it admits of precepts and rules; so that any man who has been taught, or has made himself acquainted with them, may perfectly understand in what this appearance of Urbanity consists.

XLVI. People very frequently, and in many ways offend against the laws of Urbanity; and I have seen those, who have had a reasonable good education, who have notwithstanding that, been frequently guilty of offending against the rules of good-breeding. All those imperfections, are the very reverse of Urbanity, which tend to make people disagreeable in their conversation, and when in company with other men troublesome or disgusting in their behaviour; and this explanation, suits well with the definition we at first gave of Urbanity. But which are these imperfections? To this I shall answer, that they are many, and that I will proceed to point some of the most striking ones out, which I apprehend will be the most instructive part of this essay, as enumerating the most glaring imperfections that tend to make people disagreeable and troublesome in conversation, will have the same effect, as prescribing rules that should be observed, to render their company pleasing and desirable to society. As I proceed, the reader may accompany me, and examine his political conscience as we go on, in order to discover whether any of the faults or failings I point out, are applicable to himself.

SECT. IX.

Loquacity.

XLVII. I consider talkative people as a sort of tyrants of conversation; for according to my opinion, who admit of a limited species of reason in brutes, talking is a faculty more peculiar to man than reasoning; and engrossing all the conversation to a man’s self is a most arbitrary proceeding. He who is always desirous of being heard, and is impatient of attending to any one else, usurps a privilege to himself, which should be enjoyed in general by all mankind, as a prerogative proper to their being. But what fruit can be gathered from his torrent of words? None, except the tiring and disgusting his hearers may be called a fruit, who after they are rid of him, make amends for the silence he had imposed on them, by speaking of him with derision and contempt. No time is worse employed, than that which is consumed in hearing talkative people; who are generally men without discretion or reflection, for if they had any, they would be more reserved and keep within reasonable bounds, in order to avoid making themselves contemptible; and if they want reflection, they must want judgement also, and how can he who wants judgement talk with propriety? Or what benefit can result to those who listen to an extravagant prating man, except that of his affording them an opportunity for the meritorious exercise of their patience? Thus what Theocritus said of the verbose fluency of Anaximenes, may be applied to all talkative people; that he considered them as a luxuriant river of words, in the whole stock of whose waters, you could not find one drop of understanding: Verborum flumen, mentis gutta.

XLVIII. What flows from such tongues, may be compared to vomitings of the soul; or to the sickly discharges from an unsound mind, which throws up before it has digested them, all the mental species or aliment it has received. They would have that pass for a faculty or power of explaining themselves, which in reality is nothing more than the want of a retentive faculty, or the power of keeping down what is in them. I would describe this malady, by calling it a relaxation of the rational faculty; whereas others might be apt to say, that is not the case, for the species are thrown up, for want of space to contain them in the part destined for their reception.

XLIX. Let no man plume himself too much, upon his being well attended to or applauded when he first begins to speak in public; for this may be a favourable tempting breeze, that may encourage him to loose the sails of loquacity; but although it may be a favourable and a tempting one, it may be a breeze of but short duration. Conversation is the food of the soul, but the cravings of the soul, are as various, as delicate, and as capricious as those of the body. The most noble diet persisted in for too long a time, becomes satiating, and loathsome. Thus the oratory of him, who for a certain space shall be listened to with pleasure by his hearers, may become tiresome to them after a while, and they would not attend to what he said, if he persisted in talking too long. The planets a man should consult the aspect of, to know when he should enter deep, or go but a little way into the gulph of conversation, are the eyes of his auditors; their pleasing serenity, or lowering appearances, should be the signs, that should either encourage him to spread all the sails of rhetoric and make great way; or else should warn him of the hazard and risque of proceeding any further, and that for the present it would be most prudent for him to lay-by, and wait a more safe and favourable opportunity to pursue his course.

L. But even these appearances may be fallacious and deceiving, and more especially to persons of high rank and authority; for the dependants of such, not only flatter them with their tongues, but with their eyes also. Why should I confine their adulation to the expressions of their tongues and their eyes, when they convert their whole bodies, and every limb and member of them, to instruments of delusion and flattery? for with certain fawning movements, and certain mysterious gestures of complaisance and admiration, they attend to and applaud all that is said or done by a man in power, on whom they are in any shape depending. He at the same time, big with his own cleverness, and his chops watering with approbation of himself, with the drivel running out at both corners of his mouth, vents his oratory, and talks whatever comes uppermost, be it good or bad, in a full persuasion, that the words of Apollo of Delphos were never listened to with more attention, or more respect. But, unhappy man, how do you deceive yourself! for you tire every body, and you disgust every body; and, the worst is, that those who had been just listening to you with such seeming applause, as soon as your back is turned, to relieve themselves from the pain the forced tribute of their adulation to you gave them, vent themselves in repeated bursts of laughter and derision at your folly. Great people may believe what I say, and be convinced that this is the way of the world; and they may also believe me when I tell them, that power in the hands of a weak man, only tends to make him appear more ridiculous; and that in the hands of a discreet one, if he is not extremely so, it tends in a great measure to cast a blemish on his understanding.

SECT. X.

Lying.

LI. What can be more obnoxious to urbanity than lying? What man of understanding is there whom it does not offend? Or to whom is it not disgusting? and how can deceit cease to be injurious? All the utility, all the delight that can be obtained by conversation, is destroyed by a lie. If he, with whom I converse, tells me lies, of what service will the information I receive from him be to me? for if I do not believe him, all he says will only tend to irritate me; and if I do, to fill me with errors. If I am not assured he tells me truth, what satisfaction can I have in attending to him? For his conversation, so far from affording me entertainment or instruction, will set my mind on the rack, and cause me to waver, and continue in a painful state of doubt, and also perplex me, to find out reasons for believing or disbelieving what he has told me.

LII. Conversation is a species of traffic, in which mankind exchange informations and ideas with each other; and what better name can we give to him, than that of a cheat and a deceiver, who in this commerce, passes false informations and ideas for true ones; and ought we not also to treat him as a prevaricator, who is unworthy of being admitted into human society?

LIII. I have always been amazed at, and have always condemned, the indulgence and toleration that lying people find in the world. I have already exclaimed against this practice in my Essay on the Impurity of Lying, and must beg leave to refer the reader thither for a more full discussion of the point; but it has occurred to me since I wrote that Essay, that it is probable, this toleration may have arisen from the great extension of the vice of lying; and that the number of those who find themselves interested in this indulgence, is much greater, than that of those who find themselves injured by it; and that perhaps they tolerate lying in one another, because the toleration is necessary and useful to both parties. If the sincere part of the world consists of but few people, they cannot, without being guilty of great rashness, attempt to wage war against the many; but they at least may remonstrate, and with temper complain of the disgust they receive, from the indulgence that is shewn to lying. I ingenuously confess for myself, that I look upon him as a man of but little sincerity, who hears a lie with much seeming composure, and without expressing any signs of his dislike of it; although I must confess at the time I say this, that a frank manifestation of our dislike of the practice, cannot so easily be shewn, unless it is to our equals or our inferiors.

LIV. There is a species of lie, that passes in the world for humour and pleasantry, which I would punish as a crime. Whenever there happens to be a person in company who is noted for being an exceeding credulous man, it frequently happens, that some one or other tells a very incredible story, for the sake of exposing the easy faith of such a person, and of shewing, how apt he is to swallow absurdities and improbabilities for truth. This is received as a piece of wit, and all the by-standers laugh and applaud the ingenuity and invention of him who told the lie, and they all regale themselves at the expence of the innocent credulous person. But I consider this as an abuse; for does the simple and easy credulity of any person give others a right to insult him? admitting that his excessive credulity proceeds from the scantiness of his understanding; are we peradventure only obliged to be civil to, and treat with urbanity, the discreet and the acute? If God has blessed you with more talents than another man, would it not be an insolent abuse of them, if you made that person an object of your scorn, and played upon him, and treated him with the same derision and contempt that you would treat a monkey? Would this be using him like your neighbour? Or would it be applying your talents to the end and purpose, for which God was pleased to endow you with them?

LV. But the truth is, that excessive credulity proceeds more from goodness of heart, than from want of discretion. I have seen men who were very simple, and at the same time very penetrating. The same rectitude of heart, which excites a man of simplicity of manners to conduct himself without deceit, inclines him to think, that other people conduct themselves upon the same principle. It often happens, that a lie is believed by one person because he is an ingenuous man; and discredited by another, because he is a simpleton. The case is, that the first, excited by the goodness of his disposition, sets himself about finding out grounds of probability for what he has heard, and by his penetration discovers such. The other, who is only influenced by the dictates of his malice, never seeks after any such thing; and although he should seek after it, his stupidity would not permit him to discover it.

LVI. I don’t know whether the story that is commonly told of St. Thomas Aquinas, which is, that he was made to believe there was an ox that could fly, be true or not, as likewise what was said about his going out very anxious to see the spectacle; but this I know, that the rebuke which was couched in the answer he gave to those who attempted to put that affront on his credulity, is well worthy of a St. Thomas; I say worthy of that great repository of excellent virtues, both moral and intellectual, and worthy also the generosity of heart, and exalted prudence, of that sublime genius. The answer was as follows: I could more easily be made to believe that there was an ox which could fly, than I could be made to believe, that mankind were capable of giving a lying relation of such a thing. What reproof could be more discreet than this! and what energy and delicacy is there contained in it! I esteem this sentence more, than I do any of those which the ancient Grecians have recorded of their wise men. The sublimity of it persuades me, that it was the legitimate child of St. Thomas’s brain, and of course I can have no doubt, but the story we have related was true. Thus we see, the greatest discretion is not incompatible with, but may be easily reconciled to, and brought to unite with the greatest simplicity.

SECT. XI.

Speakers of bold Truths.

LVII. As there are many people who behave with ill-breeding, from being addicted to relate falsehoods, so there are many others, who offend against the laws of urbanity by speaking ill-timed and uncivil truths. I mean to hint at those, who under pretence of undeceiving people, and of being their friends, out of time, and contrary to all the rules of decency, take the liberty of pointing out all their faults, and of speaking their opinion, both of them and their conduct. This is an act of barbarism, disguised under the veil of honest sincerity.

LVIII. We shall describe these people, by giving the character and behaviour of Philotimus. Philotimus is a man, who at all times is dinning in people’s ears the professions of his ingenuousness, and declaiming till he is out of breath against adulation. He is ever dwelling upon his immutable love of truth, which he uses as a sort of coupling, to all the insinuations he throws out against this or that person. He rudely tells a man his faults to his face, and then shelters himself under the pretence, that when an occasion presents itself for his doing it, he cannot refrain from speaking the truth, for all the gratifications and indulgences the world can afford. If he hears any person praised, be he absent or present, in whose conduct he conceives there is something reprehensible, he immediately gives vent to his spleen, and tells all he knows or has ever heard to that person’s prejudice, and reproaches those who have spoke well of him, with having flattered or been partial to him; and then immediately pleads his great love of truth, as a justification for what he has done.

LIX. What shall we say of such a man? We may venture to pronounce, that there is much more stuff about him, than is necessary to form either a fool or a rustic; and that he is an extravagant babbler, who in his conversation observes no order or bounds; that he is a rude, yea a very rude unpolished man, who does not understand the difference between servile adulation, and bare-faced effrontery. He being such a sort of man, why should those who hear him regard any thing he says? Or who can believe that he is capable of forming a just opinion of matters or things, who is so far infatuated as to overlook, or not attend to the maxims, which natural reason has so clearly dictated and pointed out? But if we were to admit that he does not err in the conception he forms of things, we must at least grant, that he errs in his mode of advancing his opinions, if he prefers them out of time, inopportunely, and without method. Has he peradventure a royal licence or patent, for being the superintendent or corrector of other men’s manners and conduct? But admitting for argument’s sake, that he is a man of as great veracity as he pretends to be, which by the way is what I very much doubt of; for my experience has convinced me, that if it does not apply to every individual, that fine sentence is most true and applicable to the bulk of mankind, which I have read somewhere, although I can’t remember in what author, and is as follows: Veritatem nulli frequentius lædunt, quam qui frequentius jactant. There are no people lie more frequently, than those who are always boasting of their veracity. I say, admitting that they are as sincere as they pretend to be, does their being men of veracity give them a right to go about cudgeling, and breaking the heads of all the world? Truth, according to the doctrine of St. Paul, is the beloved companion of charity: Charitas congaudet veritati; and should it then be used in a gross manner, and so as to become offensive and disgusting? The truth of the Christians, according to the description given of it by St. Austin, is more beautiful than the Helen of the Greeks: Incomparabiliter pulchrior est veritas Christianorum, quam Helena Græcorum; and should it appear, or be characterised with so brasen a face, that it abashes and stares every body out of countenance?

LX. I confess that there are occasions, on which every man is obliged to speak the truth, although his doing it should offend, or be attended with the resentment of those who hear him; but this licence should only be taken in one of the three following instances, the vindication of divine honour, the defence of accused innocence, and the reforming or reclaiming your neighbour; and I suppose this last is the only motive, from which the speakers of bold truths we have just been describing pretend to act; but are they ignorant, that, although it will always be sure to give offence, their manner of attempting this, can never accomplish the reformation they affect to bring about? Nor can it be otherwise, for how can their sour, overbearing, and arrogant behaviour, produce so good an effect? Or how can they expect, according to the scripture phrase, that by sowing thorns, they should hereafter gather a harvest of grapes?

SECT. XII.

Tenaciousness or Obstinacy.

LXI. Not less tiresome than those we have just been speaking of, nor less interrupting to the pleasure of conversation, are tenacious or obstinate people. The spirit of contradiction is an infernal spirit, and at the same time so perverse a one, that I very much doubt, whether there has hitherto been a remedy found out for the cure of those who are possessed with it.

LXII. This brings to my mind the example of Aristius. He is a great frequenter of, and a busy man in clubs and coffee-houses, to which he is always running, in quest of disputations and argumentations. His opinion is his idol, and nobody must dissent from it, on pain of experiencing the effects of his indignation; neither must any body prefer an opposite one, lest he should be treated by him as an enemy; and nothing can satisfy him, but a total acquiescence in, or silent approbation of all he says. His influence in conversation may be compared to that of the southern constellation, called Orion’s Belt, which excites nothing but tempests. Nimbrosus Orion, as Virgil calls it. No sooner does he enter a company, than the serenity of a pleasing tranquil conversation, begins to degenerate into a turbulent tumultuous noise. He begins with contradicting, the person contradicted defends himself, others take part in the dispute, the fire of altercation lights up, and catches from one to the other like the contagion of a pestilence, Insequitur clamorque virùm, stridorque rudentum, till at last, the conversation sounds like the talking of gibberish, and becomes a confused jargon and noise, so that the company can neither hear or understand each other. All this mischief in political society, may be, and frequently is introduced by a tenacious and obstinate man. Nor is this malady ever to be cured; for you can more easily turn the stream of a rapid river, and make it run back contrary to its course, than force him to give up an opinion he has once advanced.

SECT. XIII.

Excessive Gravity.

XLIII. Opportune cheerfulness, is the most savoury seasoner of conversation, and has so great a share in true urbanity, that some, as we observed before, have considered it as the most essential part of it; for, when introduced with propriety, it produces the most desirable effects, as it enlivens both the speakers and the auditors, conciliates their good-will to each other, and affords a relaxation to the mind, after it has been fatigued with study, or any serious occupation. It was on this account, that the moral gentiles, and even the christians also, placed cheerfulness among the number of moral virtues. Hear what Saint Thomas says on this head, in l. 2. quæst. 168. art. 2. after declaring cheerfulness to be a virtue, he describes the delight that results from it, not only to be useful, but necessary also for the purpose of giving ease and relaxation to the soul: Hujusmodi autem dicta, vel facta, in quibus non quæritur nisi delectatio animalis, vocantur ludicra vel jocosa. Et ideo necesse est talibus interdum uti, quasi ad quandam animæ quietem.

LXIV. Men who are always grave, may be termed a sort of entities between men and statues. Risibility being a property or quality inseparable from reason, he who denies himself the pleasure of laughing, degrades himself below the degree of a rational animal. Fools, are apt to esteem such people as men of sense, judgment, and mature understanding. But is a man’s deporting himself with the dryness and rigidity of a stock or a stone, a proof of his understanding? No brute is capable of laughing; and ought a property that is common to every brute, to be considered as a descriptive mark of, and the characteristic of a man of understanding? I look upon such a carriage, to bespeak an obstinate genius, and a man of a sullen temper. The antients were used to say, that all those who had ever entered the enchanted cavern of Trophonius, never laughed afterwards. If there is any truth in this story, which many people doubt, it is probable, that the infernal deity who was consulted in that cavern, instilled into those who consulted him this black diabolical melancholy.

SECT. XIV.

Disgusting or unseasonable Jocoseness.

LXV. But excessive gravity, is perhaps not more repugnant to true Urbanity, than unseasonable jocoseness. Pleasantry in conversation, can be disagreeable but in three ways; by exceeding in the quantity of it, by indecency in the quality of it, and by its being deficient in point of nature.

LXVI. He who is always laughing and upon the gog, may be more properly termed a buffoon, than a man of good-breeding. No person makes himself more ridiculous, than one who is always laughing, and he who is always affecting to be gay, is ever disgusting; and a man likewise who acts the jack-pudding all his life, is a mere jack-pudding and nothing more.

LXVII. Cheerfulness may be also reprehensible, by degenerating into ribaldry, or by being over satyrical. The first, is properly the language of stables and tippling houses, and as I don’t write for lacqueys, grooms, and coachmen, we shall pass this over, and proceed on to the second point. Those who have a high opinion of their own talents, are very frequently guilty of this fault. I mean to speak of those who set themselves up for dictators, but who ought more properly to be termed babblers and praters, but I do not mean to enumerate in this catalogue, such, as may be truly termed men of understanding, but such only as Horace spoke of, when he said, that if opportunities occurred for indulging their satyrical vein, they made no scruple of lashing their most intimate friends.

Of those, who according to the description given of them by Ennius, could more easily retain in their mouths a hot iron, than a keen saying; these are a sort of people, who seem to claim a right of making error pass for sterling gold, of converting comedy into tragedy, injurious treatment into good behaviour, and of converting honey also into poison. Their tongues may be compared to those of the lions, which are so rough and sharp, that wherever they lick they take the skin off. They are also called hummers; and so they are, for like wasps, hornets, flies, and all other vile insects of the humming kind, they the instant they have hummed, implant their sting.

LXVIII. But let them make what parade they will of their abilities, they can never escape being noted for malignant or troublesome people; and whether they are one or the other, all honest men should either discard them from their company, or restrain them by threatenings. The Count de Amayuelas, whom I became acquainted with in my youth, said to a gentleman of this kind, who had taken frequent occasions to say rude and ill-natured things to him, under the pretence of being jocose, Friend Don N. I have bore with several indelicacies from you, and you may vent as many more upon me as you think proper, but let it be understood between us from henceforward, that for every indelicacy you must expect a stab. By which intimation, he took the sting out of the tail of the hummer.

LXIX. There is a serious fault in hummers, and one that they very frequently commit, which is their exercising their banter upon common-place things, and general topics, and pointing their sneers, for example, against the rank, or nation of the person they attack. I am obliged for this observation, to that great master of Urbanity Quintilian; these are his words: Male etiam dicitur quod in plures convenit: si, aut nationes totæ incessantur, aut ordines, aut conditio, aut studia multorum. People of steril geniuses, are the most apt to fall into this absurdity, who being at a loss what to say concerning men’s actions or personal qualities, fall upon some common-place observations, respecting their condition, country, &c.

LXX. The reason why this should be avoided is, because among the multitude of those who are comprehended in common-place and general observations, there may be more than a few of them, who may construe the hum into an affront; and although they may not have been present at the conversation in which this happened, upon hearing afterwards what passed in it, may be excited to shew their resentment against what they have been told was said, which is a thing I have often experienced. And I have also seen this attended with not a little injury to common-place hummers, who have drawn on themselves resentments they were not aware of. But although there should be no danger attending this practice, it should be avoided from motives of equity; for notwithstanding pleasantry is in its own simple nature innocent, it is not right to exercise it towards him, who may fancy himself injured by it. Those who are so tender and delicate, that they would feel as a hard blow, what to others would only seem a playful pat with the hand, should never be so much as lightly touched with the finger, for if the lightest touch goes to their hearts, whoever touches them can’t fail to wound them. It not being possible then, for those who deal in general or common-place humour and banter, to avoid giving offence to many people, every one who would be thought a man of urbanity or good-breeding, should abstain from that practice entirely.

LXXI. Finally, all pleasantry that is not natural is disgusting. Those who without genius attempt to be witty, soon grow tiresome, and make themselves appear ridiculous. There is nothing more insipid, than a man who is desirous of making himself seem entertaining, by venting studied conceits, and by aukward and forced endeavours to imitate people of natural humour. It is true, that they succeed in part of what they aim to accomplish, which is the making other men laugh, but then they themselves, and not their wit, stand as the object of their laughter. If there happens to be a man in a town, who is remarkable and celebrated for his humour, and saying of good things, twenty or thirty others, will attempt to imitate and set themselves in competition with him; but all their endeavours, will never enable them to exhibit more than a ridiculous mock copy of that person. Mankind don’t care to be convinced, that in this and all other such endowments, nature not only furnishes the means, but does the whole executive part of the business herself. It is for the want of making this reflection, that those who are the least qualified for it by nature, attempt to imitate others, on whom she has with a bountiful hand bestowed the choicest qualities. The exceeding likeness there is between a man and a monkey, seems to me to be greater still, if in making the comparison between them, we begin with the man first. It has been insisted, that both in Asia and Africa, there have been apes or monkeys found, who have the exact appearance of men; and I insist, that in Africa, Asia, and Europe, and in all other places, there are men who have the exact appearance of monkeys, and in effect, that they put on, or wear this appearance, by their attempting to imitate each other. There never starts up an excellent original in our species, of which you will not see innumerable affected copies; but then these are a sort of copies, that never exceed a mock scare-crow imitation.

SECT. XV.

Ostentation of Knowledge.

LXXII. Science is a treasure that should be expended with œconomy, and not squandered away profusely. It is of great value to the possessor who lays it out sparingly, but if squandered and made ostentation of, it becomes trifling and ridiculous; and indeed upon a strict enquiry, it will be found that they very seldom possess it, who boast or make parade of being masters of it. They who know but little, are the only people, who in all places, are fond of exposing their whole stock of knowledge to view. They never enter into a conversation, that without waiting a fit opportunity for doing it, they don’t exhibit their whole scanty budget of informations. Between those who are truly learned, and men of but slender literary acquisitions, there is the same difference, that there is between merchants who keep great stocks of goods, and pedlars who go about with a pack. The first in their warehouses, lay up large assortments of things, where all people may resort, and be furnished with what they have occasion for; the others carry their miserable scanty shop of wares at their backs, and there is neither street, alley, or corner, where they don’t cry them about, and expose and offer them to sale.

LXXIII. Some are so simple, as among all classes of people, to introduce, or as we may say lug-in by the head and shoulders, a conversation, on the subject of the profession they were bred to. The abbé Bellegarde, tells a story of a military man, who in a visit he made to some ladies, without being asked to do it by any body, set himself about relating very circumstantially, all the particulars of a siege he had been employed in, which he did in all the technical terms of military art, taking care also, to mention the regiments and officers that assisted at it, and to describe minutely, all the manoeuvres both of the besiegers and the besieged, from the time of investing the place to the day of its surrender; which tedious relation, must without doubt have been very entertaining to the ladies. But Moliere’s comic description of these sort of people, which he gives us in the character of a young practitioner in surgery, is more laughable still; who in one of his first visits to a lady he paid his addresses to, after having exhausted all his compliments, in anatomical phrases and chyrurgical terms of art, invited her to see the dissection of a dead body, and expressed how greatly he should be obliged to her for her company; for that he himself was to be the operator. This undoubtedly could not fail of affording a pleasing entertainment to a delicate and tender-hearted lady.

LXXIV. One of the most essential instructions that can be acquired by true Urbanity, is that of learning upon all occurrences, to accommodate yourself and your conversation, to the genius and capacities of your company; and of leaving to the choice of others, the subject-matter of discourse, and in following them in the pursuit of it, as far as they shall find it pleasing and agreeable to carry it. He is not more absurd and extravagant who talks to another on a subject or faculty he does not understand, than he, who talks to him in a language he is an utter stranger to.

SECT. VI.

Affectation of Superiority.

LXXV. The different behaviour of some people at their first entrance into a room, and after their coming to engage in conversation with the company they find there, is very remarkable. At their first coming in, if the people they meet happen not to be such as they are pretty intimate with, they seem over and above complaisant, make most respectful congées, are very hyperbolical in their professions of attachment and esteem to every one they accost, and are very profuse of their offers to oblige and serve them; but after a little while, they begin to draw themselves up, to assume an air of gravity and consequence, and in all their words and actions, to behave as if they were vested with a senatorial, or legislative authority. Such a man begins to array himself with a habit of importance, and to appear on the theatre with an air of pomp and arrogance. He lays by the easy sock, and assumes the buskin. His sol fa which commenced in a low tone in e faut, is raised in a very little time, to the highest note in g solre. His political stature grows to a gigantic size, and he begins to look down on all around him, and to treat all they say with that scorn and disdain, which is generated by, and lineally descended from rustic pride.

LXXVI. Treating on this subject, brings to my mind a story which Moreri tells of Brunon, bishop of Langres, who in the beginning of one of his pastoral letters stiles himself humilis præsul, and afterwards in the body of it, assumes a majestic tone, and says, nostram odiens majestatem. Those who behave in this manner, must certainly lie under the delusion, that urbanity and modesty, were only calculated for exordiums, prologues, and salutations at peoples first meeting.

SECT. XVII.

Speaking in a magisterial tone.

LXXVII. Among the professors of literature, there are not a few, who make themselves unpleasant companions, by assuming an overbearing and dictatorial manner. With them every place is a school, every chair a professional one, and all their auditors their pupils. Conceited, and full of themselves and their science, and big also with the dignity of their office and degrees, they look upon those who have not gone through the schools, as people of an inferior species, whom they scarce ever deign to speak to, but with a frowning brow, and a contemptuous look. They always talk in a dictatorial tone of voice, and express themselves with the majestic authority of an oracle, and in their conversation with other men, seem to exercise the power of a chapel master, who regulates the tone the whole band are to sing and play in.

LXXVIII. I have known many, indeed very many, who were prepossessed with the error, that study augments the understanding. And is this an error? without doubt it is, for whether we suppose, that inequality of understanding or reason in mankind, proceeds from an entitive inequality of souls, as some have imagined; or whether we suppose it proceeds from a different temperament or formation of men’s organs, which is the most generally received opinion; it will necessarily follow from these premises, that with the assistance of study, or without it’s aid, the intellectual faculty, must ever remain equally and identically the same; it being certain, that study can never alter the organization or native temperament of man; and much less can it change the substantial entity of the soul. Thus after many years study, the reasoning faculty can never be increased in natural strength, so much as half a degree. The before-named argument demonstrates it; but besides this, my own experience has shewn me the thing palpably and clearly. I have seen people of great application to letters, who after consuming a large portion of their lives in that pursuit, reasoned miserably on whatever subject they attempted to talk upon; and I have observed others, whom I have had frequent opportunities of seeing for a great number of years, and who were scarce ever without a book in their hands, who laboured under the same inability of reasoning, and whose ideas were equally confused, and their comprehension just as obscure at the end of that period, as at the beginning. Study assists people with certain informations, and furnishes them with a variety of species or matter, by the help of which, they are enabled to make many deductions, which they could not have made without that aid; but the power or activity of the understanding, cannot be increased or enlarged by any such means. A workman, who should be furnished with many instruments of his art, which he was not possessed of before, would with this assistance, be enabled to do many things, which without their help he could not have executed; but this would not prove that the strength of his arm was increased.

LXXIX. Even with respect to the particular faculty or science men study, they never can get over, or pass beyond the fence rail which nature has placed before them; they read much, converse much, and treasure up a great many species in their memories, but never collect them with any order, or separate and apply them with any judgment or discretion, and never clearly penetrate or comprehend their uses. Thus one of these comes out from his studies, like a learned man that is only skilled in perspective, and capable of fascinating the ignorant vulgar with false lights and shadowings; or such a one as the common people call wells of science, but they are only wells of muddy water, that is of no use or benefit to mankind.

LXXX. This being the case, which it most undoubtedly is, it is very clear and evident, that the faculties they have studied, give them no right or pretensions to the magisterial air they assume on account of the degrees they have taken, and that the insignia or outside marks of those honours and dignities, give them no just reason for affecting, or claiming any authority or superiority, over the rest of mankind. The most provoking part of this matter, and that which heightens the ridiculousness of it to an extreme degree, is, that those who for the most part are under the dominion of this vain presumption, are professors of inferior note; for those who are really ingenious, and men of clear understandings, let themselves be influenced by reason. I repeat again, that the professors of little note, are those who are ostentatiously fond of enlarging the size of their little letters, and of making them all appear like capitals. They are those, who from study extract a great deal of smoke, but little clear or luminous fire. Thus when they mix with the rest of the world, they assume an air of superiority over other men, and say a thousand silly things, with as solemn and grave a face, as if all they articulated were profound apophthegms.

LXXXI. It may be thought that I exaggerate, but I do not; for the reader may believe me when I assure him, that I have known many, nay very many, who without any more merit, than that of having kept their terms at a university for a certain number of years, and of having taken a degree, and being authorized to wear the insignia of academic dignity, treat with contempt every thing that is advanced by a lay man, and behave to him, as if he was a rational animal of an inferior order to himself. In whatever company such a man finds himself, whether the conversation turns upon war, politics, or civil government, he with a ridiculous self-sufficiency, takes upon him to give his opinion, although it is in opposition to that of a man, who may be reasonably supposed to understand these things much better than him. And what does he get by all this? He causes himself to be despised and derided, and to be pointed and laughed at for a blockhead.

LXXXII. I can’t omit mentioning another gross fault, which these men of slender talents are apt to fall into; although it may with truth be said, that it is frequently incurred by people of all classes; which is, being much addicted to criticise and censure the productions or abilities of others, who are better informed than themselves. It is to be sure very laughable, to think of a silly fellow, who runs about calling the rest of the world fools; and to reflect, that he who does not know a word of science, should busy himself with measuring by inches, the scientific talents of other men, which he hardly ever will vouchsafe to estimate by feet or yards, because there are very few instances, in which he will admit their talents to arrive at those dimensions. Thus a bad preacher, will never acknowledge that he has heard a good sermon; a bad taylor, that he has seen a suit of cloaths which were well made; or a bad smith, that he has seen a piece of work that was well executed, &c.

SECT. XVIII.

Troublesome or ill-timed visits.

LXXXIII. There are some men, who by being over attentive and civil to their friends, become intolerable. I speak of those, who make visiting an employment or occupation, and who are always exercising themselves in that way, as if it was their profession. These are a sort of people, who not knowing what to do with themselves, or how to employ their own time, run about tiring and breaking-in upon the avocations of other people, who are engaged in most honourable and important occupations; they are a sort of robbers of men’s time, who steal from them that, which it is necessary for them to employ in their business; they are a sort of knights errant, whose tongues instead of spears, are ever prepared for attack, and who busy themselves in doing wrongs, instead of redressing them; a kind of dealers in common-place phrases, who go about like beggars from house to house; and who may be termed cheats in good-breeding, and such, as would impose on the world vexation for obsequiousness.

LXXXIV. Those who think to recommend themselves to the good graces of men in power, by a repetition of visits, deceive themselves greatly; for what merit can there be in keeping such a person confined an hour to his room every third day, where he may possibly remain as uneasily, as if he was sitting in the stocks, and be deprived of an opportunity of taking some amusement or recreation he is fond of, or else, of employing that time in some business he wanted to attend to? What most commonly happens in these cases is, that the visitor has no sooner taken leave and turned his back, than the person visited vents a thousand curses on his impertinence; and if there should chance to be any one by to whom he can unbosom himself in confidence, he declares to him, that he never met with a greater savage in all his life.

LXXXV. I feel much for ministers who are exposed to this sort of persecution; for to the heavy load of their office that lays on them, may be added the surcharge of these tiresome visits, the weight of which may possibly sit more burthensome on them, than that of the whole duty they have to do besides.

SECT. XIX.

Visits to sick people.

LXXXVI. On the head of visits to sick people, there is much to be said, as in making them, we should attend not only to the rules of good-breeding, but to those of charity also; and it is impossible, if we are wanting in the last of these obligations, for us to comply with those of the first. Sick people, both with respect to their souls and bodies, should be treated and dealt by with as much delicacy and caution, as you would handle an exquisitely thin vessel of glass. A sick body is affected by, and sensible of the slightest touch; and an afflicted soul, may be inquieted by such a sensation as cannot be defined.

LXXXVII. Visiting sick people, is not only an act of urbanity, but an act of tenderness and humanity also; but in order to constitute it such an act, it is essentially and absolutely necessary, that the visit should be so managed, and attended with such circumstances, as will afford relief and comfort to the sick person. But how many of these kind of visits are experienced by the poor sick? one may venture to assert, scarce one in fifty. The prudent part of mankind are but few in number, but the visitors consists of many. What effect must his visits have on a sick man, who tires and disgusts one in health with them? Nor is it sufficient, that he who visits a sick person is discreet, if his discretion does not lead to instruct him, when, how much, and in what manner a sick person should be talked to. To know when he should be talked to, the physician, and those who attend him should be consulted; how much, in what manner, and on what subject, must be determined and regulated, by the prudence of the person who visits him.

LXXXVIII. The how much, is the point which visitors most commonly mistake. Sick people should be but little talked to, even although the subject of the conversation is such as they are fond of; for their attention to what is talked of, is apt to fatigue them, and to wade those spirits, which would be better employed in resisting the disease. Thus it in general is better to leave them in that sort of half slumber, and languid quiet of mind, which by not being disturbed or interrupted, permits all the ideas that occur to them to pass easily through the brain.

LXXXIX. With regard to the manner they should be talked to in, it ought to be such, as by no means should inquiet or disturb them; and to prevent their being surprized or alarmed, it will be necessary to talk to them in a low voice. If loud talking is capable of cracking a head of brass, what effect must it have on a glass one? They should not be asked many questions, nor should they as little as possible, be put under a necessity of replying to what is said of them, for from thence there would result two fatigues, that of reasoning, and that of talking.

XC. The subject of the conversation with a sick Person, should in general turn upon such things, as he was observed to be most fond of when in health; for with respect both to the aliments of the soul, as well as those of the body, I am of opinion, that physicians and those who attend on, or visit sick people, should have regard to their appetites and desires, and I am inclined to think, that with respect to these particulars, there are frequent mistakes made, and especially with relation to the aliments of the soul, for by making them grateful to people, there will seldom any inconvenience result, but having regard to doing this, may be attended with much use and benefit. Whenever an epidemical distemper prevails in a town or country, it may not be improper now and then, to talk to sick people on the subject of that disorder; but in doing this, care should always be taken to mention to them only those who have been visited with, and have recovered from the disease; and regard should likewise be had, never to say a word of such as have died of it; but I have known visitors who were such blunderers, as scarce to tell a sick person any other news, than that such a one, or such a one is dead. This tends to make a sick man very unhappy, for according to the logic of his melancholy, he is apt to conclude, that his death must be an infallible consequence of that of the other persons.

XCI. To these general rules, I shall add a remark on two mistakes that are very commonly fallen into by those who visit sick people. The first of these is, their beginning upon their entrance into the chamber of a sick person, if there are three or four of them, to ask him one by one, how he goes on, and how he finds himself. A man had need have the patience of Job, to answer such a number of identical questions. Even in slight illnesses, the pain and uneasiness it gives a man to answer the same string of questions over and over again, is very evident and palpable. Therefore the method people should pursue in their visits to a man who is seriously ill, should be, to ask in a low voice, how he is of those who attend him. Or the expedient may be had recourse to, that was practised by a friend of mine, who was of the same religious order as myself; who when he was once very ill, to avoid this inconvenience, ordered that every morning, there should be written on a piece of paper, all the questions that are generally asked by visitors, together with the answers to them; such as what sort of a night he had had, whether the pain in his head was abated, whether his thirst continued, or whether he had taken any nourishment, &c. This paper he ordered to be stuck with wafers on the side of his chamber door, that those who came to visit him might read it, in order to prevent their fatiguing him with a number of those questions.

XCII. The second mistake, is that of all the visitors taking upon them to be physicians, and to prescribe for the sick person. This is an affectation practised by many; but when we consider, how abstruse and how arduous a study physic is, and how long practice and experience it requires to obtain a competent knowledge of it, and that the greatest ingenuity is found to be unequal to the acquisition; I say when we consider all this, must it not appear very absurd and presumptuous, for every one to pretend to take upon him the office. Thus, whatever a visitor fancies would be serviceable to the diseased person, either as food, or medicine, he is continually teasing the sick man, and vexing the physician with his recommendation of. How often have I seen very prudent and able physicians, much perplexed to determine what they should prescribe; and at the same time, have observed a thousand vain pretenders flourish away, and very self-sufficiently, and much to their own satisfaction, determine off hand, the medicine the patient should take! How many times also have I seen these conceited wrong-headed people, with their importunities, drive an able learned physician out of his course, who had determined, after well considering all the circumstances of his patient, to stand still for a little while, and leave the disease to nature, in order to see which way she would point; but persecuted and overcome by the pressing instances of the people we have been mentioning, he is brought to break this resolution, and to set pen to paper, and prescribe something that he had better have desisted from ordering! These ignorant folks, are ever exclaiming that nature should always be assisted. This is a grand aphorism; and one that all the world pretend to understand; but what such men as we have just mentioned fancy to be assisting nature, is in reality, and most commonly, cutting off her legs and arms.

SECT. XX.

Visits of Condolence.

XCIII. All those who labour under any great misfortune, may properly be classed among the sick or infirm. Those things which we commonly call diseases, begin with the body, and from thence proceed to affect the soul; but the disease of grief, or sadness, begins with the soul, and from that is communicated to, and infects the body. To the afflicted with grief, all the visitors should act the physician, nor indeed are there any other physicians, who can afford them so much relief. The cure of the passions of the soul, do not appertain to medicine, but to ethics. Thus the discretion of a man who visits an afflicted person may afford him relief, when all the precepts of old Hippocrates can furnish him with none.

XCIV. But what most frequently happens in these cases? why, that the visits of condolence, add a new affliction to him who is already borne down by grief. It is necessary to leave a disconsolate widow, or a man who was exceedingly fond of his deceased wife, for a few days after their loss to themselves, both out of respect to the formalities of the world, and to afford them an opportunity to vent their sorrow. The natural alleviators of great grief, are abundant tears, impetuous sighs, repeated exclamations, and extravagant gestures. None of these can be indulged by any one, while he or she is receiving a visit; for people at such times, are obliged to behave with as much composure, as a person who is acting a serious part in a play; and must confine themselves to expressions of their grief, that are purely theatrical. Their words and their sighs, must issue from them, in form, in order, and according to rule. Their bosoms are oppressed with an ocean of bitterness, and they are only permitted to vent it drop by drop. The doing of which if you consider it, does not afford them the slightest relief; but on the contrary, the violence they put upon themselves to conform to these regular demonstrations of sorrow, is rather an addition to their torment.

XCV. The cruel consequences that result to afflicted people, by denying them the natural breathings of their sorrow, and restraining them from venting their grief by all ways and means, is well explained by Picineli in his simile of a River, which swells the more, the more its course is obstructed, ab obice crescit; for so it is, that grief increases by being suppressed, and that the less vent is given to it, the more apt it is to suffocate. Strangulat inclusus dolor, said Ovid, who was well versed in these matters.

XCVI. For these reasons, I am of opinion, those who have met with such misfortunes, should for a certain time, be only seen by their relations and most intimate friends, their familiar intercourse with whom, would rather facilitate, than interrupt those burstings of their souls, which relieve the oppressions of their breasts. The visits of such people, should always be accompanied with expressions of friendship, and hearty tenders of kind and generous offers, and especially, when the grief is increased by apprehensions, that the consequences of the loss they have sustained, will be a partial, or total privation of their temporal conveniences. And besides those intimate friends and relations, the visits of some spiritual man, whose character for virtue and discretion is generally acknowledged and confessed, might afford great comfort in affliction, or to speak more properly, the interposition of Divine Providence through him, might administer greater relief in such cases, than could be furnished by the nearest relations, and the most sincere friends. And the best office that could be done to those who are borne down with grief by their friends and relations, might possibly be to procure them frequent visits from men of this character.