MANNERS—LANGUAGE.
The Manners of this people are remarkably artificial. They appear to do every thing by rule; and not a word, a look, or a movement escapes them, but what has at one time or other been studied. In every part of their demeanour they have reference to some invisible standard, which they call the Ton, or the Fashion, (from which latter term they have derived their appellation;) and by this mysterious talisman their manners, their dress, their language, and the whole of their behaviour, are tried. It is singular enough, that this standard which is to fix every thing, is itself the most variable of all things. The changes which it undergoes are so rapid, that it requires a sort of telegraphic communication to become acquainted with them: and though there is no regular way by which they may be known, yet nothing is considered so disgraceful as not to know them.
The fluctuations to which this standard is subject, render it difficult to catch the features of people of Fashion, or to speak with any precision upon the exterior of their character. They are, in fact, moulded and modified by such capricious and indefinable circumstances, that he who would exhibit a true picture of their manners, must write a history of the endless transmutations through which they are compelled to pass. It has, indeed, been remarked by nice observers, that a dissimulation of their sentiments and their feelings, is a feature in the character of this people, which never forsakes them; and that amidst all the revolutions which their other habits experience, this master-principle preserves an unchanging uniformity. Nor is it sufficient to overthrow this reasoning, that, among the innovations of recent times, the manners of people of Fashion have been brought into an affected resemblance to those of their inferiors. The cropped head, and groomish dress of the men, and the noisy tone and vulgar air of the women, would almost persuade a stranger that these are blunt and artless people, and that they love nothing so much as honesty and plain-dealing. The fact, however, is, that though the mode of playing is varied, yet the game of dissimulation is still going on. This condescension to vulgarity is, after all, the disguise of pride, and not the dress of simplicity; and is as remote from the sincerity which it imitates, as from the refinement which it renounces.
An exaggerated opinion of their own importance is, in reality, a prevailing characteristic of the Fashionable World.
The Greeks and Romans were thought to have gone too far, when they called all nations but their own barbarians; but people of Fashion go a step farther: for they consider themselves every body, and the rest of the world nobody. The influence of this sentiment is sufficiently discernible over the whole of their character. It dictates to their affections, and robs them, in many instances, of their spontaneity, their sweetness, and their force. It results from this conceit, that their love is often artificial, their friendship ceremonious, and their charity ungracious. In a word, the whole of their demeanour is such as might be expected from a people, who idolize the most frivolous or the most vicious propensities of human nature; and estimate as nothing, the talents, and industry, and virtue, which adorn it.Their Language would afford great scope for discussion; but the limits which I have prescribed to my work, will not allow me to embrace it. I shall, however, throw together such remarks as may enable the reader to form some judgment of it; and refer him, for more extended information upon it, to those modish compositions in which it is conveyed, and to the circles in which it is spoken.
Their language, then, is generally a dialect of the people among whom they reside. They do, it is true, intersperse their conversational dialogue with scraps of French and Italian; they also construct their complimentary phrases with singular dexterity; they have, besides, certain epithets; such as dashing, stylish, &c. which may be considered as perfectly their own:—but if these be excepted, the rest of their language is, to the best of my judgment, wholly vernacular.
It must not, however, be supposed, that because these people use the terms of the country in which they live, they therefore use them in their ordinary and received acceptation. Nothing can be farther from the fact. I verily believe, that if the whole nomenclature of Fashion were examined from beginning to end, scarcely twenty words would be found, which in passing over to the regions of Fashion, have not left their native and customary sense behind them.In support of this observation I shall cite, for the reader’s satisfaction, a brief extract from a private memorandum, which I had originally made with a design of constructing a Fashionable glossary.
Vernacular Terms. | Fashionable Sense. |
Age | An infirmity which nobody owns. |
Buying | Ordering goods without present purpose of payment. |
Conscience | Something to swear by. |
Courage | Fear of man. |
Cowardice | Fear of God. |
Day | Night. |
Debt | A necessary evil. |
Decency | Keeping up appearances. |
Dinner | Supper. |
Dressed | Half-naked. |
Duty | Doing as other people do. |
Economy | (Obsolete.) |
Enthusiasm | Religion in earnest. |
Fortune | The chief-good. |
Friend | (Meaning not known.) |
Home | Every body’s house but one’s own. |
Honour | The modern Moloch, worshipped with licentious rites and human victims. |
Knowing | Expert in folly and vice. |
Life | Destruction of body and soul. |
Love | (Meaning not known.) |
Modest | Sheepish. |
New | Delightful. |
Night | Day. |
Nonsense | Polite conversation. |
Old | Insufferable. |
Pay | Only applied to visits. |
Play | Serious work. |
Protection | Keeping a mistress. |
Religion | Occupying a seat in some church or chapel. |
Spirit | Contempt of decorum and conscience. |
Style | Splendid extravagance. |
Thing (the) | Any thing but what a man should be. |
Time | Only regarded in music and dancing. |
Truth | (Meaning uncertain). |
Virtue | Any agreeable quality. |
Vice | Only applied to servants and horses. |
Undress | Complete clothing. |
Wicked | Irresistibly agreeable. |
Work | A vulgarism. |
I am far from pretending to have assigned the precise significations in which the words above cited are employed by people of Fashion. Perhaps I have done as much towards fixing the sense, as will be expected of one who cannot pretend to be perfectly in their confidence. In fact, the transmutation of terms is an operation to which this people are most devoutly addicted. It is daily making some advances among them; and keeps pace with the progress of their ideas, from the correct and authentic notions of truth and virtue, to those loose and spurious ones by which they are superseded.
In proof of this statement, I need only adduce those phrases in which they are accustomed to pronounce the eulogium of their deceased associates.
For example,—Is reference made to an unthinking profligate who has lately been hurried from the world? His vices are glanced at, and cursorily condemned: but still it is affirmed, that, with all his faults, he always meant well; he had a good heart at the bottom; and he was nobody’s enemy but his own.
And for whom is this apology offered, and this praise indirectly solicited? For the man who, if he ever meant any thing, meant nothing more or better, than to gratify his lusts, pursue his vicious pleasures, drink his wine, shake his dice, shuffle his cards; and thus waste his existence, and destroy his soul. Of such a man it is gravely affirmed, that—he always meant well.
And of whom is it said, that he had a good heart?—Of the man who rarely manifested, through the whole of his life, any other symptoms than those which indicate a bad one. His mouth was full of cursing and bitterness; his humour was choleric and revengeful; his feet moved swift to shed blood; there was no conscience in his bosom, and no fear of God before his eyes; and yet, because he was occasionally charitable, and habitually convivial, no doubt is entertained but that—he had a good heart at the bottom.
Lastly, he is said to have been nobody’s enemy but his own, who has wasted the earnings of an industrious ancestor, and bequeathed beggary and shame to his innocent descendants. The wretch has distressed his family by his prodigality, and corrupted thousands by his example; and yet, because he has been the dupe of his lusts, and fallen a martyr to his vices, he is pronounced to have been—nobody’s enemy but his own.
These instances will serve to throw some light upon the sort of idiom employed by people of Fashion; and the manner in which they have wrested expressions of no little importance, from their natural and legitimate signification.
But before I quit the consideration of their language, I think it my duty to point out another peculiarity; of which, to the best of my knowledge, no satisfactory account has yet been given. Whether it arise from the paucity of their words, the confusion of their ideas, or any other cause distinct from each of these, so it is, that they have but one term by which they are accustomed to express their strong emotions both of pleasure and pain. On this term you will find them ringing perpetual changes; and, strange to say, it is to be heard, under one or other of its grammatical inflections, [104] in almost every sentence which falls from their lips. The master has recourse to it in scolding his servants, the officer in reprimanding his men. The traveller employs it in recounting his adventures, and the man of pleasure in describing his intrigues. It is heard in the house, and in the field; in moments of seriousness, and of levity; in expressions of praise, and of blame. In short, it is used on occasions the most dissimilar, under impressions the most contradictory, and for purposes the most opposite; and is, in fact, the sine qu non of every energetic and emphatical period.
Now it happens, unfortunately, that this catholicon in Fashionable phraseology is, of all terms, that to which sober Christians annex the most awful ideas; and from the use of which they as scrupulously abstain, as they do from that of the Great Being whose vengeance it so tremendously expresses. And it may be worthy of consideration, whether this familiar and unfeeling employment, by people of Fashion, of a term which imports infernal punishment, does not strengthen those doubts which have been already suggested, of their real belief in a place of future torment.
It ought not at the same time to be overlooked, that, in this respect, they bear a close resemblance to the vulgarest part of the community; and it would furnish a subject of curious investigation, why two classes in society, respectively the highest and the lowest, should exhibit so striking an agreement in a material branch of language. I know it has been said, that extremes meet; and the fact before us is so much proof that the remark is just: but that by no means solves the difficulty. For, after all, the question returns upon us, why such a fact should exist? I confess, for my own part, I know no answer that can be given to it; and I very much wish that some one of their number would undertake to explain their real motives for courting a resemblance in one respect with that description of society, from which they make it their pride to differ in every other.