“An upright heart, and sensibility of soul, are doubtlessly the most noble qualifications of the fair sex. These, Englishwomen possess in an eminent degree. But there are lighter, and perhaps more catching attractions, which, though they will not bear a competition, are nevertheless great smoothers of the rough passages of life, and very necessary conducives to social happiness.”
It is the opinion of wiser heads than mine, that no circumstance, however trifling in itself, should be neglected, which strengthens the bonds of an honorable and mutual attachment; and so great is the privilege allowed for this purpose, that it is deemed laudable in woman to collect into herself all the innocent advantages, mentally and corporeally, which may render her most admirable and precious in the eyes of him who may be, or is, her husband.
This latter sentiment reminds me to impress upon my young friend, that there are shades of demeanor which must be varied according to the sex, degree, and affinity of the persons with whom she converses. To men of all ranks and relations, she must ever hold a reserve on certain subjects, and indeed on almost every occasion, that she does not deem necessary to observe with regard to her own sex. To inferiors of both sexes she must ever preserve a gracious condescension; but to the men a certain air of majesty must be mixed with it, that she need not assume to the women. To her equals, particularly of the male sex, her manners must never lose sight of a dignity sufficient to remind them that she expects respect will be joined with probable intimacy. In short, no intimacy should ever be so familiar as to allow of any infringement on the decent reserves which are the only preservers of refinement in friendship and love. What are called cronies amongst girls, are among the worst of connexions, as they generally are the very hotbeds of fancified love-fits, secrecies, and really vulgar tale-bearing.
“Celestial friendship!
Whene’er she stoops to visit earth, one shrine
The goddess finds, and one alone,
To make her sweet amends for absent Heaven,—
The bosom of a friend, where heart meets heart,
Reciprocally soft—
Each other’s pillow to repose divine!”
This friendship is indeed the gift of Heaven—a boon more precious than much fine gold; but it is not usually to be found in school cronies, or in the confidence of misses, whose unbosomings usually consist of flirtations, complaints against parents and guardians, and schemes for future parties of pleasure. Friendship is too sacred for these pretenders; under her influence, “heart meets heart,” and acknowledges her as the pledge of Heaven to man, of immortality, and endless joys. To such an intimate your whole soul may be laid open. But such an intimate is rare. You may meet her once in the shape of a female friend, and in that of a tender husband! But believe not that her appearance will be more frequent. Hers are “like angels’ visits, few and far between!” Earth would be too much like heaven were it otherwise.
To the generality, then, of your equals, while you are affable and amiable with them all, you must be intimate with few, and preserve an ingenuous reserve with most. Show them your sense of propriety demands a certain distance, and with redoubled respect they will yield what you require. With men of your acquaintance, you ought to be more reserved than with women. But while I counsel such dignity of manners, you must not suppose that I mean starchness, stiffness, prudery; I only recommend the modesty of the virgin—the sober dignity of matron years.
The present familiarity between the sexes is both shocking to delicacy, and to the interests of women. Woman is now treated by the generality of men with a freedom that levels her with the commonest and most vulgar objects of their amusements. She is addressed as unceremoniously, treated as cavalierly, and left as abruptly, as the veriest puppet they could pick up at a Bartholomew Fair.
We no longer see the respectful bow, the look of polite attention, when a gentleman approaches a lady. He runs up to her; he seizes her by the hand, shakes it roughly, asks a few questions, and, to show that he has no interest in her answers, flies off again before she can make a reply.
To cure our coxcombs of this conceited impertinence, I would strongly exhort my young and lovely readers. When any man, who is not privileged by the right of friendship or of kindred, to address her with an air of affection, attempts to take her hand, let her withdraw it immediately, with an air so declarative of displeasure, that he shall not presume to repeat the offence. At no time ought she to volunteer shaking hands with a male acquaintance, who holds not any particular bond of esteem with regard to herself or family. A touch, a pressure of the hands, are the only external signs a woman can give of entertaining a particular regard for certain individuals; and to lavish this valuable power of expression upon all comers, upon the impudent and contemptible, is an indelicate extravagance which, I hope, needs only to be exposed to be put forever out of countenance.
As to the salute, the pressure of the lips—that is an interchange of affectionate greeting, or tender farewell, sacred to the dearest connexions alone. Our parents—our brothers—our near kindred—our husband—our lover, ready to become our husband,—our bosom’s inmate, the friend of our heart’s core—to them are exclusively consecrated the lips of delicacy, and wo be to her who yields them to the stain of profanation!