Women, in a great degree, establish or destroy every man's reputation
of good breeding; you must, therefore, in a manner, overwhelm them
with the attentions of which I have spoken; they are used to them,
they expect them; and, to do them justice, they commonly requite
them. You must be sedulous, and rather over officious than under, in
procuring them their coaches, their chairs, their conveniences in
public places; not see what you should not see; and rather assist,
where you can not help seeing. Opportunities of showing these
attentions present themselves perpetually; but if they do not, make
them. As Ovid advises his lover, when he sits in the circus near his
mistress, to wipe the dust off her neck, even if there be none. _Si
nullus tamen excute nullum._ Your conversation with women should
always be respectful; but at the same time, _enjoué_, and always
addrest to their vanity. Everything you say or do should convince them
of the regard you have (whether you have it or not) for their beauty,
their wit, or their merit. Men have possibly as much vanity as women,
tho of another kind; and both art and good breeding require that,
instead of mortifying, you should please and flatter it, by words and
looks of approbation.
Suppose (which is by no means improbable) that at your return to
England, I should place you near the person of some one of the royal
family; in that situation good breeding, engaging address, adorned
with all the graces that dwell at courts, would very probably make you
a favorite, and, from a favorite, a minister; but all the knowledge
and learning in the world, without them, never would. The penetration
of princes seldom goes deeper than the surface. It is the exterior
that always engages their hearts; and I would never advise you to give
yourself much trouble about their understandings. Princes in general
(I mean those Porphyrogenets who are born and bred in purple) are
about the pitch of women; bred up like them, and are to be addrest and
gained in the same manner. They always see, they seldom weigh. Your
luster, not your solidity, must take them; your inside will afterward
support and secure what your outside has acquired.
With weak people (and they undoubtedly are three parts in four of
mankind) good breeding, address, and manners are everything; they can
go no deeper: but let me assure you, that they are a great deal, even
with people of the best understandings. Where the eyes are not
pleased, and the heart is not flattered, the mind will be apt to stand
out. Be this right or wrong, I confess, I am so made myself.
Awkwardness and ill breeding shock me, to that degree, that where I
meet with them, I can not find in my heart to inquire into the
intrinsic merit of that person; I hastily decide in myself, that he
can have none; and am not sure, I should not even be sorry to know
that he had any. I often paint you in my imagination, in your present
_lontananza_; and, while I view you in the light of ancient and modern
learning, useful and ornamental knowledge, I am charmed with the
prospect; but when I view you in another light, and represent you
awkward, ungraceful, ill bred, with vulgar air and manners, shambling
toward me with inattention and distractions, I shall not pretend to
describe to you what I feel, but will do as a skilful painter did
formerly, draw a veil before the countenance of the father.
I dare say you know already enough of architecture to know that the
Tuscan is the strongest and most solid of all the orders; but, at the
same time, it is the coarsest and clumsiest of them. Its solidity does
extremely well for the foundation and base floor of a great edifice;
but, if the whole building be Tuscan, it will attract no eyes, it will
stop no passengers, it will invite no interior examination; people
will take it for granted that the finishing and furnishing can not be
worth seeing, where the front is so unadorned and clumsy. But, if upon
the solid Tuscan foundation, the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian
orders rise gradually with all their beauty, proportions, and
ornaments, the fabric seizes the most incurious eye, and stops the
most careless passenger, who solicits admission as a favor, nay, often
purchases it. Just so will it fare with your little fabric, which at
present I fear has more of the Tuscan than of the Corinthian order.
You must absolutely change the whole front or nobody will knock at the
door. The several parts which must compose this new front are elegant,
easy, natural, superior good breeding; and an engaging address;
genteel motions; an insinuating softness in your looks, words, and
actions; a spruce, lively air, and fashionable dress; and all the
glitter that a young fellow should have.