great propriety, as signs and representatives of those actions which we are desirous, and have not the power of performing. They are to be held as pledges of our esteem and affection.

6

'But the man of courtly manners often puts on a placid and smiling semblage, while his heart rankles with malignant passions.'-When this is done with an intention to deceive or ensnare mankind, the conduct is perfidious, and ought to be branded with infamy. In that case, the law of courtesy is more honoured in the breach than in the observance.' But there may be another situation, when the show of courtesy assumed, while the heart is ill at ease, moved by disagreeable unkindly feelings, would be unjustly censured.-From a feeble constitution of body, bad health, or some untoward accident or disappointment, you lose your wonted serenity. Influenced by your present humour, even to those who have no concern in the accident that hath befallen you, and who would really be inclined to relieve you from your uneasiness, you become reserved and splenetic. You know the impropriety of such a demeanour, and endeavour to beget in your bosom a very different disposition. Your passions, however, are stubborn; images of wrong and of disappointment have taken strong hold of your fancy; and your present disagreeable and painful state of mind cannot easily be removed. Meanwhile, however, you disguise the appearance; you are careful to let no fretful expression be uttered, nor any malignant thought lower in your aspect; you perform external acts of civility, and assume the tones and the language of the most perfect composure. You thus war with your own spirit; and, by force of commanding the external symptoms, you will gain a complete victory. You will actually esta

blish in your mind that good humour and humanity which, a little before, were only yours in appearance. Now, in this discipline there is nothing criminal. In this discipline there is a great deal of merit. It will not only correct and alter our present humours, but may influence our habits and dispositions.

A contrary practice may be attended, if not with dangerous, at least with disagreeable, consequences.

Sir Gregory Blunt was the eldest son of a respectable family. His fortune and his ancestry entitled him, as he and his friends apprehended, to appear in any shape that he pleased. He owed, and would owe, no man a shilling; but other men might be indebted to him. He received from nature, and still possesses, good abilities and humane dispositions. He is a man, too, of inflexible honour. Yet Sir Gregory has an unbending cast of mind, that cannot easily be fashioned into soft compliance and condescension. He never, even at an early period, had any pretensions to winning ways, or agreeable assiduities; nor had he any talent for acquiring personal graces and accomplishments. In every thing that confers the easy and engaging air of a gentleman he was excelled by his companions. Sir Gregory had sense enough to perceive his own incapacity; vanity enough to be hurt with the preferences shown to young men less able or honest, but more complaisant than himself; and pride enough to cast away all pretensions to that smoothness of demeanour in which he could never excel. Thus he assumed a bluntness and roughness of manners, better suited to the natural cast of his temper. He would be plain; he hated all your smiling and fawning attentions; he would speak what he thought; he would praise no man, even though he thought him deserving, because he scorned to appear a flatterer; and he would pro

mise no man good offices, not even though he meant to perform them, because he abhorred ostentation. Accordingly, in his address, he is often abrupt, with an approach to rudeness, which, if it does not offend, disconcerts: and he will not return a civility, because he is not in the humour. He thus indulges a propensity which he ought to have corrected; and, slave to a surly vanity, he thinks he acts upon principle.

Sir

Now, this habit not only renders him disagreeable to persons of polished manners, but may be attended with consequences of a more serious nature. Gregory does not perceive, that, while he thinks he is plain, he only affects to be plain; that he often stifles a kindly feeling, for fear of seeming complacent; that he constrains the garb quite from his nature;' and that he disguises his appearance, as much at least by excessive bluntness, as he would by showing some complaisance. Thus he is hardly entitled, notwithstanding his pretensions, to the praise even of honest plainness. Besides, his character, in other respects, is so eminent, and his rank so distinguished, that, of course, he has many admirers: and thus all the young men of his neighbourhood are becoming as boisterous and as rough as himself. Even some of his female acquaintance are likely to suffer by the contagion of his example. Their desire of pleasing has taken an improper direction; they seem less studious of those delicate proprieties and observances so essential to female excellence; they also will not appear otherwise than what they are; and thus they will not only appear, but become, a great deal worse. For, as the show of humanity and goodhumour may, in some instances, promote a gentle temper, and render us good-humoured; so the affectation and show of honest plainness may lead us to be plain without honesty, and sincere without good in

tention. Those who affect timidity may, in time, become cowards; and those who affect roughness may, in time, grow inhuman.

SIR,

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MIRROR.

I have long had a tendre for a young lady, who is very beautiful, but a little capricious. I think myself unfortunate enough not to be in her good graces; but some of my friends tell me I am a simpleton, and don't understand her. Pray be so kind as inform me, Mr. MIRROR, what sort of rudeness amounts to encouragement. When a lady calls a man impertinent, does she wish him to be somewhat more assuming? When she never looks his way, may he reckon himself a favourite? Or, if she tells every body that Mr. Such-a-one is her aversion, is Mr. Such-a-one to take it for granted that she is downright fond of him?

Yours respectfully,

MODESTUS.

V.

No. 30. SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1779.

It has sometimes been matter of speculation, whether or not there be a sex in the soul: that there is one in manners, I never heard disputed; the same ap

plause which we involuntarily bestow upon honour, courage, and spirit in men, we as naturally confer upon chastity, modesty, and gentleness in women.

It was formerly one of those national boasts which are always allowable, and sometimes useful, that the ladies of Scotland possessed a purity of conduct, and delicacy of manners, beyond those of most other countries. Free from the bad effects of overgrown fortunes, and of the dissipated society of an overgrown capital, their beauty was natural, and their minds were uncorrupted.

Though I am inclined to believe that this is still the case in general, yet, from my own observation, and the complaints of several correspondents, I am sorry to be obliged to conclude, that there begins to appear among us a very different style of manners. Perhaps our frequent communication with the metropolis of our sister kingdom is one great cause of this. Formerly a London journey was attended with some difficulty and danger, and posting thither was an achievement as masculine as a fox-chase. Now the goodness of the roads and the convenience of the vehicles render it a matter of only a few days moderate exercise for a lady; 'Facilis descensus Averni;' our wives and daughters are carried thither to see the world; and we are not to wonder if some of them bring back only that knowledge of it which the most ignorant can acquire, and the most forgetful retain. That knowledge is communicated to a certain circle, on their return; the imitation is as rapid as it is easy; they emulate the English, who before have copied the French; the dress, the phrase, and the morale of Paris is transplanted first to London, and thence to Edinburgh; and even the sequestered regions of the country are sometimes visited in this northern progress of politeness.

And here I cannot help observing, that the imita