about her, that the is true to my bed, and as fond of me now, after twenty years abfence, as when I left her to go to Troy. I left her in the bloom of her youth and her beauty. How much must her conftancy have been tried fince that time! how meritorious is her Fidelity! Shall I reward her with falfehood: fhall I forget her who cannot forget me; who has nothing fo dear to her as my remembrance? Carce. Her love is preferved by the continual hope of your speedy return. Take that hope from her: let your companions return, and let her know that you have fixed your abode here with me; that you have fixed it for ever: let her know that the is free to difpofe of her heart and her hand as the pleafes. Send my picture to her; bid her compare it with her own face.-If all this does not cure her of the remains of her paflion, if you do not hear of her marrying Euromachus in a twelvemonth, I understand nothing of womankind. mind. She bid me go to the ficge of Troy, though the parting with me was worse than death to herself the bid me expofe myfelt there to all perils among the foremost lieroes of Greece, though her poor heart trembled to think of the least I should meet, and would have given all its own blood to fave a drop of mine. Then there was fuch a conformity in all our inclinations when Minerva taught me the leffons of wisdom, the loved to be prefent; fhe heard, the retained the moral inftructions, the fublime truths of nature, the gave them back to me, foftened and fweetened with the peculiar grace of her own mind. When we unbent our thoughts with the charms of poetry, when we read together the poems of Orpheus, Mufæus, and Limus, with what taffe did the mark every excellence in them! My feelings were dull, compared to her's. She feemed herfelf to be the Mufe who had infpired those verses, and had tuned their lyres to infufe into the hearts of mankind the love of wisdom and virtue, and the Ulyffes. O cruel goddefs! why will you far of the gods. How bencfisent was the, force me to tell you thofe truchs I wish to con- how good to my people! what care did fhe cal? If by fuch unjuft, fuch barbarous | take to inftruct them in the finer and more ufage, I could lose her heart, it would break | elegant arts; to relieve the neceffities of the mine. How fhould I endure the torment of fick and the aged: to fuperintend the educa thinking that I had wrenged fuch a wife? tion of children; to my fubjects every good what could make me amends for her not be office of kind interceffion; to lay before me ing mine, for her being another's Do not their wants; to affift their petitions; to mefrown, Circe; I own, (fince you will have diate for those who were objects of mercy; to me fpeak,) I own you could not with all fue for thofe who deferved the favours of the your pritle of immortal beauty, with all your crown! And fhall I banish myself for ever magical charms to affift thole of nature, you from fuch a confort fhall I give up her foare not fuch a powerful charmer as the.ciety for the brutal joys of a fenfual life, You feel defire, and you give it; but you ne-keeping indeed the form of a man, but having ver felt love, nor can you infpire it. How loft the human foul, or at leaft all its noble can I love one who would have degraded me and godlike powers? Oh, Circe, forgive me; into a beaft? Penelope raised me into a hero: I cannot bear the thought. her love ennobled, invigorated, exalted my : Ciree. Be gone-do not imagine I ask you 20 ftay. The daughter of the Sun is not fo mean-fpirited, as to folicit a mortal to fhare her happiness with her. It is a happiness which I find you cannot enjoy. I pity you and defpife you. That which you feem to value fo much I have no notion of. All you have faid feems to me a jargon of fentiments fter for a filly woman than for a great man. Go, read, and fpin too, if you pleafe, with your wife. I forbid you to remain another day in my ifland. You shall have a fair wind to carry you from it. After that, may every ftorm that Neptune can raife purfue and overwhelm you! Begone, 1 fay; quit my fight. Ufes. Great Goddess, I obey-but remember your oath. 11. Scene between Colonel RIVERS and Sir HARRY; in which the Colonel, from Principles of Honour, refufes to give his Daughter to Sir HARRY. Sir Har. Colonel, your moft obedient: I am come upon the old bufmefs; for, unless I am allowed to entertain hopes of Mi's Rivers, 1 fhall be the most miferable of all human beings. Riv. Sir Harry, I have already told you by letter, and I now tell you perfonally, I cannot liften to your proposals. Sir Har. No, Sir! Riv. Ne, Sir: I have promifed my daughter to Mr. Sidney. Do you know that, Sir? Sir Har. I do: but what then? Engagements of this kind, you know Riv. So then, you do know I have promited her to Mr. Sidney? Sir Har. I do-But I alfo know that matters are not finally fettled between Mr. Sidney and you; and 1 morcover know, that his fortune is by no means equal to mine; therefore Riv. Sir Harry, let me afk you one queftion before you make your confequence. Sir Har. A thoufand, if you pleafe, Sir. Riv. Why then, Sir, let me afk you, what have you ever obferved in me, or my conduct, that you defire me fo familiarly to break my word? I thought, Sir, you cenfidered me as a man of honour? Sir Har. And fo I do, Sir-a man of the niceft honour. Riv. And yet, Sir, you ask me to violate the fanctity of my word; and tell me directly, that it is my intereft to be a rafcal! Sir Har. I really don't understand you, Colonel; I thought, when I was talking to you, I was talking to a man who knew the world; and as you have not yet figned Riv. Why, this is mending matters with a witnefs! And fo you think, because I am not legally bound, I am under no neceffity of keeping my word! Sir Harry, laws were never made for men of honour: they want no bond but the rectitude of their own fentiments; and laws are of no ufe but to bind the villains of fociety. Sir Har. Well! but, my dear Colonel, if you have no regard for me, thew fome little regard for your daughter. Riv. fhew the greatcft regard for my daughter, by giving her to a man of honour; and I must not be infulted with any farther repetition of your propofals. Sir Har. Infult you, Colonel! Is the offer of my alliance an infult? Is my readi. nefs to make what fettlements you think proper Riv. Sir Harry, I fhould confider the offer of a kingdom an infult, if it were to be purchafed by the violation of my word. N 3 Befide Befides, though my daughter fhall never go a beggar to the arms of her husband, I would rather fee her happy than rich; and if the has enough to provide handfomely for a young family, and fomething to fpare for the exigencies of a worthy friend, I fhall think her as affluent as if he were miftrefs of Mexico. Sir Har. Well, Colonel, I have done; but I believe Riv. Well, Sir Harry, and as our conference is done, we will, if you pleafe, retire to the ladies. I fhall be always glad of your acquaintance, though I cannot receive you as a fon-in-law; for an union of intereft I look upon as an union of dishonour, and confider a marriage for money at beft but a legal prostitution. § 12. On Vulgarity. felf into a ferape, by fhewing what he calls a proper fpirit, and afferting himfelf. A man of fashion does not fuppofe himfelf to be either the fole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or words of the company; and never fufpects that he is either flighted or laughed at, unlefs he is confcious that he deferves it. And if (which very feldom hap pens) the company is abfurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he does not care two-pence, unless the infult be fo grofs and plain as to require fatisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them; and wherever they are concerned, rather acquiefces than wrangles. A vulgar man's converfation always favours ftrongly of the lowness of his education and company it turns chiefly upon his domeftic affairs, his fervants, the excellent order he keeps in his own family, and the little anecdotes of the neighbourhood; all which he relates with emphafis, as interefting matters. A vulgar, ordinary way of thinking, acting, or fpeaking, implies a low education, and a habit of low company. Young people-He is a man-goffip. contract it at school, or among fervants, with whom they are too often ufed to converfe; but, after they frequent good company, they muft want attention and obfervation very much, if they do not lay it quite afide; and indeed, if they do not, good company will be very apt to lay them afide. The various kinds of vulgarifms are infinite; I cannot pretend to point them out to you; but I will give fome famples, by which you may, guefs at the reft. A vulgar man is captious and jealous; eager and impetuous about trifles: he fufpects himself to be flighted; thinks every thing that is faid meant at him: if the company happens to laugh, he is perfuaded they laugh at him; he grows angry and tefty, fays fomething very impertinent, and draws him Vulgarifm in language is the next, and diftinguishing characteristic of bad company, and a bad education. A man of fashion avoids nothing with more care than this. Proverbial expreffions and trite fayings are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he fay, that men differ in their taftes, he both fupports and adorns that opinion, by the good old faying, as he respectfully calls it, that "what is one man's meat is another "man's poifon." If any body attempts being fart, as he calls it, upon him, he gives them tit for tat, aye, that he does. He has always fome favourite word for the time being, which, for the fake of using often, he commonly abufes. Such as, vafly angry, vaftly kind, vaftly handfome, and vafty ugly, Even his pronunciation of proper words words carries the mark of the beaft along with it. He calls the earth yearth; he is sbleiged, not obliged to you. He goes to wards, and not towards fuch a place. He fometimes affects hard words, by way of orBament, which he always mangles. A man of fashion never has recourfe to proverbs and vulgar aphorifms; ufes neither favourite words nor hard words; but takes great care to speak very correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce properly: that is, according to the ufage of the best companies. An awkward addrefs, ungraceful attitudes and actions, and a certain left-handednefs (if I may ufe that word) loudly proclaim low education and low company; for it is impoffible to fuppofe that a man can have frequented good company, without having catched fomething, at leaft, of their air and motions. A new-raifed man is diftinguished in regiment by his awkwardness; but he muft be impenetrably dull, if, in a month or two's time, he cannot perform at least the common manual exercise, and look like a foldier. The very accoutrements of a man of fashion are grievous incumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loss what to do with his hat, when it is not upon his head; his cane (if unfortunately he wears one) is at perpetual war with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks; deftroys them firft, and then accompanies them in their fall. His fword is formidable only to his own legs, which would poffibly carry him faft enough out of the way of any fword but his ewn. His cloaths fit him fo ill, and conftrain him fo much, that he feems rather their prifoner than their proprietor. He prefents himfelf in company like a criminal in a court of patice; his very air condemns him; and peopie of fashion will no more connect themfelves with the one, than people of character will with the other. This repulfe drives and finks him into low company; a gulph from whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged. Lord Chesterfield. § 13. On Good-breeding. A friend of yours and mine has very juftly defined good-breeding to be, "the result of much good fenfe, fome good-nature, and a little felf-denial for the fake of others, and with a view to obtain the fame indulgence from them." Taking this for granted (as I think it cannot be difputed) it is aftonishing to me, that any body who has good fense and good nature, can effentially fail in good-breeding. As to the modes of it, indeed, they vary according to perfons, places, and circumftances; and are only to be acquired by obfervation and experience; but the fubftance of it is every where and eternally the fame. Good manners are, to particular focieties, what good mortals are to fociety in general, their cement and their fecurity. And as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or at least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones: fo there are certain rules of civility, univerfally implied and received, to enforce good manners, and punish bad ones. And, indeed, there feems to me to be lefs difference both between the crimes and punishments, than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades another's property, is juftly hanged for it; and the ill-bred man who, by his ill-manners, invades and difturbs the quiet and comforts of private life, is by common confent as justly banished fociety. Mutual complaifances, attentions, and facrifices of little conveniencies, are as natural an implied compact between civilized people, as N 4 protection protection and obedience are between kings and fubjects; whoever, in either cafe, violates that compact, justly forfeits all advantages arifing from it. For my own part, I really think, that, next to the confcioufnefs of doing a good action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleafing: and the epithet which I fhould covet the moft, next to that of Ariftides, would be that of well-bred. Thus much for good-breeding in general; I will now confider fome of the various modes and degrees of it. their guard; and fo they may, provided it be within certain bounds, which are upon no occafion to be tranfgreffed. But, upon thefe occafions, though no one is entitled to diftinguifhed marks of refpect, every one claims, and very justly, every mark of civility and good-breeding. Eate is allowed, but careleffnefs and negligence are strictly forbidden. If a man accofts you, and talks to you ever fo dully or frivolously; it is worse than rudenefs, it is brutality, to fhew him, by a manifeft inattention to what he fays, that you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more fo with regard to women; who, of what ever rank they are, are entitled, in confideration of their fex, not only to an attentive, but an officious Very few, fcarcely any, are wanting in the refpect which they thould fhew to thofe whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their fuperiors; fuch as crowned heads, princes, and public perfons of diftinguished and eminent pofts. It is the manner of fhewing that re-good-breeding from men. Their little wants fpect which is different. The man of fathion, and of the world, expreffes it in its fullest extent; but naturally, cafily, and without concern; whereas a man, who is not used to keep good company, expreffes it awkwardly; one fees that he is not used to it, and that it cost him a great deal: but I never faw the worft-bred man living guilty of lolling, whistling, fcratching his head, and fuch-like indecencies, in companies that he refpected. In fuch companies therefore, the only point to be attended to is, to fhew that refpect which every body means to fhew, in an eafy, unembarrassed, and graceful manner. This is what obfervation and experience mufting in good company; and it would be inju teach you. In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for the time at leaft, fuppofed to be upon a footing of equality with the reft; and, confequently, as there is no one principal object of awe and refpect, people are apt to take a greater latitude in their behaviour, and to be lefs upon liking, diflikes, preferences, antipathics, and fancies, must be officiously attended to, and, if poffible, gueffed at and anticipated, by a well-bred man. You must never ufurp to yourself thofe conveniencies and gratifications which are of common right; fuch as the best places, the beft difhes, &c. but on the contrary, always decline them yourself, and offer them to others; who, in their turns, will offer them to you: fo that, upon the whole, you will, in your turn, enjoy your fhare of the common right. It would be endless for me to enumerate all the particular inftances in which a well-bred man fhews his good-breed rious to you to suppose that your own good fenfe will not point them out to you; and then your own good-nature will recom mend, and your self-interest enforce the practice. There is a third fort of good-breeding, in which people are the most apt to fail, from a very mistaken notion that they cannot fail at all. |