A letter on coxcombry

• Posted by mgr on September 8th, 2008 filed in HISTORISCHES, Zeitdokumente
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Bath.

My dear little Boy,

IF there is a lawful and proper object of raillery, it seems to be a coxcomb, as an usurper of the common rights of mankind: but here some precautions are necessary. Some wit, and great presumption, constitute a coxcomb; for a true coxcomb must have wit. The most consummate coxcomb I ever knew, was a man of the most wit, but whose wit, boasted with preemption, made him too big for any company, where he always usurped the seat of empire, and crowded out common sense.

Raillery seems to be a proper rod for those offenders; but great caution and skill are necessary in the use of it, or you may happen to catch a Tartar, as they call it, and then the laughter will be against you. The best way with these people is to let them quite alone, and give them rope enough.

On the other hand, there are many, and perhaps more, who suffer from their timidity, and mauvaise bonte, which sink them infinitely below their level. Timidity is generally taken, for stupidity, which, for the most part, it is not, but proceeds from a want of education in good company. Mr. Addison was the most timid and awkward man I ever saw; and no wonder, for he had been wholly cloistered up in the cells of Oxford till he was five-and-twenty years old. La Bruyère says, and there is a great deal of truth in it, Qu’on ne vaut dans ce monde que ce que l’on veut valoir; for, in this respect, mankind shew great indulgence, and value people at pretty near the price they set on themselves, if it be not exorbitant.

I could wish you to have a cool intrepid assurance, with great seeming modesty, never demonte, and never forward. Very awkward timid people, who have not been used to keep good company, are either ridiculously bashful, or absurdly impudent. I have known many a man impudent, from shame-facedness, endeavouring to act a reasonable assurance, and lashing himself to what he imagined to be a proper and easy behaviour. A very timid bashful man is annihilated in good company, especially of his superiors; he does not know what he says or does; and it is a ridiculous agitation, both of body and mind. Avoid both extremes, and endeavour to possess yourself with coolness and steadiness: speak to the King with full as little concern, though with more respect as you would to your equals. This is the distinguishing characteristic of a gentleman, and a man of the world.

The way to acquire this most necessary behaviour is, as I have told you before, to keep company, whatever difficulty it may cost you at first, with your superiors, and with women of fashion, instead of taking refuge, as too many young people do, in low or bad company, in order to avoid the restraint of good breeding. It is, I confess, a very difficult, not to say аn impossible, thing for a young man, at his first appearance in the world, and unused to the ways and manners of it, not to be disconcerted and embarrassed when he first enters what is called the best company. He sees that they stare at him, and, if they happen to laugh, he is sure that they laugh at him. This awkwardness is not to be blamed, as it often proceeds from laudable causes, from a modest diffidence of himself, and a consciousness of not yet knowing the modes and manners of good company. But let him persevere with a becoming modesty, and he will find that all people of good-nature and good-breeding will, at first, help him out, instead of laughing at him; and then a very little usage of the world, and an attentive observation, will soon give him a proper knowledge of it.

It is the characteristic of low and bad company, which commonly consists of wags and witlings, to laugh and disconcert, and, as they call it, bamboozle a young fellow of ingenuous modesty. You will tell me, perhaps, that, to do all this, one must have a good share of vanity: I grant it; but the great point is, Ne quid nimis; for I fear Monsieur de la Rochefoucault’s maxim is too true, — Que la vertut n’irait pas loin, si la vanité ne lui tenait compagnie. A man who despairs of pleasing will never please; a man that is sure that he shall always please wherever he goes, is a coxcomb; but the man who hopes and endeavours to please, will most infallibly please.

Quoted from: Annual Register 1778. London, 1800.

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