affection; they make us contented with ourselves, our friends and our situation, and expand the heart to all the interests of humanity.

T.

No. 40. SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1779.

SIR,

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MIRROR.

ACCORDING to my promise, I send you the second division of my lecture on SIMULATION, as it respects the internal part of the science of politeness.

Among barbarous nations, it has been observed, the emotions of the mind are not more violently felt than strongly expressed. Grief, anger, and jealousy, not only tear the heart, but disfigure the countenance; while love, joy, and mirth, have their opposite effects on the soul, and are visible, by opposite appearances, in the aspect. Now, as a very refined people are in a state exactly the reverse of a very rude one, it follows that, instead of allowing the passions, thus to lord it over their minds and faces, it behoves them to mitigate and restrain those violent emotions, both in feeling and appearance; the latter, at least, is within the power of art and education, and to regulate it is the duty of a well-bred person. On this truly philo

sophical principle is founded that ease, indifference, or non-chalance, which is the great mark of a modern man of fashion.

'That instance of politeness which I mentioned (somewhat out of place, indeed) in the first part of this discourse, the conduct of a fine lady at a tragedy, is to be carried into situations of real sorrow as much as possible. Indeed, though it may seem a bold assertion, I believe the art of putting on indifference about the real object, is not a whit more difficult than that of assuming it about the theatrical. I have known several ladies and gentlemen who had acquired the first in perfection, without being able to execute the latter, at least to execute it in that masterly manner which marks the performances of an adept. One night, last winter, I heard Bob Bustle talking from a front-box, to an acquaintance in the pit, about the death of their late friend Jack Riot.Riot is dead, Tom; kick'd this morning, egad!' 'Riot dead! poor Jack! what did he die of?'One of your damnation apoplectics killed him in the chucking of a bumper; you could scarce have heard him wheazle!'- Damn'd bad that! Jack was an honest fellow !-What becomes of his grey pony?'

The pony is mine.'- Yours!'- Why, yes; I staked my white and liver-coloured bitch Phillis against the grey pony, Jack's life to mine for the season.'-At that instant, a lady entering the box (it was about the middle of the fourth act) obliged Bob to shift his place; he sat out of ear-shot of his friend in the pit, biting his nails, and looking towards the stage, in a sort of nothing-to-doish way, just as the last parting scene between Jaffier and Belvidera was going on there. I observed (I confess, with regret, for he is one of my favourite pupils) the progress of its victory over Bob's politeness. He

first grew attentive, then hummed a tune, then grew attentive again, then took out his toothpickcase, then looked at the players in spite of him, then grew serious, then agitated,till, at last, he was fairly beat out of his ground, and obliged to take shelter behind Lady Cockatoo's head, to prevent the disgrace of being absolutely seen weeping.

-The si

But to return from this digression.mulation of indifference in affliction is equally a female as a male accomplishment. On the death of a very, very near relation, a husband, for instance, custom has established a practice which polite people have not yet been able to overcome; a lady must stay at home, and play cards for a week or two. But the decease of any one more distant she is to talk of as a matter of very little moment, except when it happens on the eve of an assembly, a ball, or a ridotto; at such seasons she is allowed to regret it as a very unfortunate accident. This rule of deportment extends to distresses poignant indeed; as, in perfect good-breeding, the fall of a set of Dresden, the spilling of a plate of soup on a new brocade, or even a bad run of cards, is to be borne with as equal a countenance as may be.

Anger, the second passion above enumerated, is to be covered with the same cloak of ease and good manners; injury, if of a deep kind, with professions of esteem and friendship. Thus, though it would be improper to squeeze a gentleman's hand, and call him my dear sir, or my best friend, when we mean to hit hit him a slap on the face, or to throw a bottle at his head; yet it is perfectly consistent with politeness to show him all those marks of civility and kindness when we intend to strip him of his fortune at play, to counterplot him at an election, or to seduce his wife. The last-mentioned particular should naturally lead to the consideration of jealousy; but on this it

is needless to insist, as, among well-bred people, the feeling itself is quite in disuse.

Love is one of those passions which politeness lays us under a particular obligation to disguise, as the discovery of it to third persons is peculiarly offensive and disagreeable. Therefore, when a man happens to sit by a tolerably handsome girl, for whom he does not care a farthing, he is at liberty to kiss her hand, call her an angel, and tell her he dies for her; but if he has a real tendre for her, he is to stare in her face with a broad unfeeling look, tell her she looks monstrous ill this evening, and that her coiffeuse has pinned her cap shockingly awry. From not attending to the practice of this rule amongst people of fashion, the inferior world has been led to imagine that matrimony with them is a state of indifference or aversion; whereas, in truth, the appearances from which that judgment is formed are the strongest indications of connubial happiness and affection.

'On the subject of joy, or at least of mirth, that great master of our art, my Lord Chesterfield, has been precise in his directions. He does not allow of laughter at all; by which, however, he is to be understood as only precluding that exercise as a sign, common with the vulgar, of internal satisfaction; it is by no means to be reprobated as a disguise for chagrin, or an engine of wit; it is, indeed, the readiest of all repartees, and will often give a man of fashion the victory over an inferior, with every talent but that of assurance on his side.

'As the passions and affections, so are the virtues of a polite man to be carefully concealed or disguised. In this particular, our art goes far beyond the rules of philosophers, or the precepts of the Bible: they enjoined men not to boast of their virtues; we teach them to brag of their vices, which is certainly a much sublimer pitch of self-denial. Besides, the merit of

disinterestedness lies altogether on our side, the disciples of those antiquated teachers expecting, as they confess, a reward somewhere; our conduct has only the pure consciousness of acting like a man of fashion for its recompense, as we evidently profit nothing by it at present, and the idea of future retribution, were we ever to admit of it, is rather against us.'

Such, Mr. MIRROR, is the substance of one of my lectures, which, I think, promise so much edification to our country (yet only in an improving state with regard to the higher and more refined parts of politeness), that it must be impossible for your patriotism to refuse their encouragement. If you insert this in your next paper (if accompanied with some commendatory paragraphs of your own, so much the better), I shall take care to present you with a dozen admission tickets, as soon as the number of my subscribers enables me to begin my course.

I have the honour to be, &c.

SIMULATOR.

V.