tem of behaviour which can only be learned in the fashionable world. There are many things in the system of the fashionable world, that are practised, not to encourage but depress, not to produce happiness but mortification. These, by whatever name they are called, are the reverse of genuine politeness; and are accordingly commonly known by the denomination of rudeness, a word of exactly opposite application. Much true politeness may often be found in a cottage. It cannot however conspicuously exist, but in a mind, itself unembarrassed, and at liberty to attend to the feelings of others; and it is distinguished by an open ingenuousness of countenance, and an easy and flowing manner. It is therefore necessarily graceful. It may undoubtedly best be learned in the society of the unembarrassed, the easy and the graceful. It is most likely to exist among those persons who, delivered from the importunate pressure of the first wants of our nature, have leisure to attend to the delicate and evanescent touches of the soul.

Politeness has been said to be the growth of courts, and a manner frank, abrupt and austere, to be congenial to a republic. If this assertion be true, it is a matter worthy of regret, and it will behove us to put it in the scale as a defect, to be weighed against the advantages that will result from a more equal and independent condition of

mankind. It is however probably founded in mistake. It does not seem reasonable to suppose that the abolition of servility should be the diminution of kindness; and it has already been observed that, where the powers of intellect are strenuously cultivated, sensibility will be their attendant. But, in proportion to the acuteness of any man's feelings, will be, in a majority of cases, his attention and deference to the feelings of others.

SECT. II.

RECIPROCAL CLAIMS OF POLITENESS AND SINCERITY.

A REMARK not unfrequently heard from the professed enemies of politeness, is, I dislike such a person; why should I be at any pains to conceal it? Is it not right that the judgment of mankind respecting the character of individuals, should be divulged? I wish to be understood. I feel in myself no vocation to be a hypocrite.

Are the persons who hold this language, wholly unacquainted with the fallibility of human judgment? Be it observed, that they are usually, of all their species, the most capricious, the most hasty in their judgments, and dogmatical in their decisions. Sober and thinking men, are fearful of being misled in a subject so complex and involved as the study of characters; and have no pleasure in delivering their sentiments in this matter, with

rapidity of decision, and in a peremptory tone. They are wary and anxious in forming an opinion, and scepticism in enquiry, is eminently calculated to inspire gentleness not imbecility, of delivery and behaviour. Persons who are so ungraciously eager to condemn a character, for the first displeasing appearance, for the merest trifle, for any thing or for nothing, while they pretend to be doing homage at the shrine of sincerity, will generally be found to be merely gratifying their own pecvishness and the undue acrimony of their temper.

They do not recollect that the greater part of human virtue consists in self-government, and a resolute counteraction of improper propensities. When I check in myself an unmanly and inordinate lamentation for the loss of a friend, which, being indulged, if I am a man of sensibility, would perhaps destroy me, who is there that will charge me with prevarication in this proceeding? When I refuse to vent the feeling of bodily anguish in piercing cries, as the first impuse would prompt me to do, I am not therefore a hypocrite. In the same manner, if I refuse to treat any person with pointed contempt for every petty dislike, and prefer the keeping my mind always free for the reception of new and opposite evidence, this is no breach of sincerity.

This argument will appear in a still stronger light, if we act upon the great rule of morality,

and put ourselves in the place of the individual concerned. On my part, suppose, I am eager to conform to a mistaken law of sincerity, but in reality most probably am chiefly prompted by an unjust and imperious disposition. How is it with my neighbour, whom I am forward to convince of the small degree he occupies in my esteem? He is placed in the most undesirable predicament. He must either defend himself from my assault, by harbouring that unfavourable opinion of me, which casily degenerates into hate; or he must sink, unrelieved, beneath one of the most humiliating and soul-harrowing feelings incident to our nature, that of having brought home, at once to his understanding and his senses, the ill opinion and unfriendly sentiment of a being of his own species. How lightly and thoughtlessly is this desolation frequently inflicted? An offence like this, nothing can aggravate, but the frigid and miserable pretence of the offender, that what he did was the dictate of virtue.

A man conducts himself in a manner I disapprove. I instantly express my contempt towards him, personally, and in the most unqualified terms. -Who made me a judge over him? From what source did I derive my patent of infallibility? He was more concerned in the event, and possibly considered the subject more maturely and patiently than I have considered it. Toleration, and free

dom of opinion, are scarcely worth accepting, if, when my neighbour differs from me, I do not indeed burn him, but I take every occasion to insult him. There could be no freedom of opinion, if every one conducted himself thus. Toleration in its full import, requires, not only that there shall be no laws to restrain opinion, but that forbearance and liberality shall be moulded into the manners of the community.

Supposing it certain that the man I censure is a person of depraved character, is this the way to amend him? Is there no conduct that offers itself, but that of punishment? How often does the loud censure, and the "slow-moving finger of scorn*," drive a man to despair, who might have been amended, perhaps rendered the ornament of his species? I ought to reclaim my brother with kindness and love, not to have recourse to measures of insolence and contumely.

This will be still more evident, if we admit the doctrine of a moral necessity, and believe that there is an uniform and constant conjunction between motives and actions. Upon this hypothesis, the man who acts improperly, has a certain train of reasoning on the subject by which his mind is reconciled to the deviation. His understanding is imposed on; there is a cloud of sophistry which

* Shakespear.