Chapter I: I Seek in men that love of their country, which I find so much (3)

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.

_Dummodo risum_
_Excutiat sibi, non hic cuiquam parcet amico._

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.

XCVII. I would have it understood, that I mean all I have just said, as applicable only to great and real griefs; for truly appearances in these cases are very uncertain and equivocal. If a father, a mother, a husband, or a wife dies, the nearest relation to the deceased party, manifests great tokens of being deeply affected. But who will believe that a husband can be greatly concerned for the death of his wife, who was known to be much fonder of other women than of her? or who can believe that a wife can be really grieved for the death of her husband, who always played the tyrant with her, and treated her like a galley-slave of matrimony? or who that a son can be feelingly affected by the death of a father, whose estate he has long panted to be in possession of? In such instances as these, multitudes of visits of condolence may not be improper; for condolences of compliment, are well suited to mournings of ceremony.

SECT. XXI.

_Letter-writing._

XCVIII. The writing letters with address and propriety, is a very essential part of urbanity, and a matter upon which a great deal may be said by way of instruction; but as the want of this may be supplied, by reading approved books of letters on various subjects, I would recommend to the reader the perusal of those of many eminent men, which have been lately collected and published, by that diligent and pains-taking person Don Gregorio Mayans y Siscar, librarian to his majesty, and professor of civil law in the kingdom of Valentia; and would advise him to read them over and over again with much attention, as the best patterns of letters in our language. With respect to the writing of Latin letters, those who desire to be well instructed in that, should read attentively, those of Don Manuel Marti Dean of Alicant, which have been lately published by the before-named Don Gregorio Mayans in two volumes in octavo; and those of Mayans’s own, which he published in one volume in quarto in 1732. I consider the publication of these books, to have been of the greatest use and importance, on account of the miserable state, to which the writing the Latin language was reduced in Spain, and especially with respect to the familiar or epistolary stile. How often have I experienced, that whenever it became necessary for a religious society or community, to write a Latin letter to Rome, or some other foreign kingdom, that there were very few men to be found among them, who were capable of doing it, unless it was in Latin stuffed full of Hispanisims? And whenever it became necessary for them to converse in Latin with any stranger, they seemed as much at a loss, and as much embarrassed, as if they had been obliged to talk to him in Arabic.

XCIX. People are apt to run into the same error in writing multitudes of letters, that they are in paying too many visits; as letters may be termed a sort of visits in writing. Numbers of people are addicted to this fault, and their reason for committing it is, that they are in hopes by this means, to recommend themselves to the good graces of those they write to; but nothing can be more absurd or ridiculous, than thinking, that by being troublesome to people, you will gain their esteem and affection; whereas the commission of this fault, is most commonly attended with a quite opposite effect; and I have seen many, who by the frequency of their letters, have lost the good-will of those who had a regard for them, and whose friendship they would have continued to possess, but for their teasing them with a superfluous repetition of letters. There are not a few, who write these sort of letters, for the sake afterwards of feeding their own vanity by shewing the answers to them, in order to manifest that they are esteemed by, and honoured with the correspondence of persons of distinction. These are not only troublesome to those they write to, but to those also to whom they shew the answers to their letters; and what most commonly happens is, that instead of making themselves appear respectable by doing this, they cause themselves to be despised, and to look ridiculous; for there is scarce any one who does not regard with contempt, a man that runs about from company to company reading and shewing his letters, like a bad poet, who is always troubling his friends with a repetition of his verses.

C. But what remedy is there for these impertinences? why no other, but disregarding, and not giving answers to such letters. Oh! but this would shew want of urbanity; no it would not, for I assert, that so far from it, it would manifest much discretion; and I consider any man who maintains a contrary opinion, to be under a great mistake. There is no one who thinks it shews want of urbanity, to deny your being at home to a man who persecutes you with troublesome visits. Why then should it be thought that a man is wanting in this respect, who returns no answer to these sort of letters? It is very likely, that the writer of them will be much concerned and affected at not having answers to them; but if I can cure an indisposition I labour under, by making the person who brought it upon me, swallow the bitter draught that it may be necessary should be taken to accomplish that end, instead of my taking it myself, why should not I avail myself of such a remedy? In short, in cases of this sort, it is impossible to adopt any other method than that of giving no answer to these kind of letters; for attempting to do otherwise, would be attempting more than a man who receives great numbers of such letters could find leisure to execute; for I can safely declare with respect to myself, that if I had not taken a resolution not to answer all the letters I received, my whole time would not have been sufficient to write those answers, nor my whole fortune, to pay the postage of those that would have been addressed to me.

A
DEFENCE
OR
VINDICATION OF THE WOMEN.

SECT. I.