But manners are, however, somewhat like the mind itself,—we can observe their phenomena, and trace their effects; but, as they are in themselves nothing more than the various states of an ever-changing something which we can never exactly comprehend, no abstract disquisition upon them, even as they are found in the Athens, would bear to be read, although one should be at the trouble of writing it. When we grapple with them in real flesh and blood, and can say that this is Archy Campbell, or this his Majesty’s Advocate,—that this is Mrs. Macspine, who studies the Differential Calculus,—or that Lady Macfidget, who calculates differences, or makes them for other people’s calculation,—then the gentle readers draw their chairs together, and prepare for that most delectable of all entertainments,—the dissection of an individual character; but when we treat of the disembodied virtues or vices, we are allowed the sole and exclusive benefit of our lucubrations.
Still, it is impossible to overlook the rapidity with which all sorts of things whisk about in the Athens, and how cleverly her ladies and gentlemen creep into the nut-shells of science, or the whispering-corners of scandal; or how dextrously they contrive to make one thing answer many purposes. It is impossible that any people, and more especially a people so ardent and so educated as the Athenians, can be without a reasonable commodity of love; but the talking apparatus is so sensitive to the slightest touch, and vibrates so instantaneously over the whole city, that this commodity cannot be brought into action in the ordinary way. Accordingly, the various systems of philosophy which have from time to time warmed and gladdened the Athenians, have been, in a great measure, a succession of bows and quivers for the artillery of Cupid. Sometimes they were awkward enough for this purpose; and the barbs and feathers of those instruments of man’s mischief, sticking out at the ends of arguments against revelation, or disquisitions upon cause and effect, had rather a ludicrous appearance. When Smellie brought the philosophy of beasts into vogue, matters mended a little; and youths and virgins sauntered away into the fields for the pure and intellectual purposes of investigating the origin and progress of lambs and linnets. The day of the botanists was equally favourable for erotic purposes; and when the researches of Doctor Hutton had made the fairy-rings upon Arthur’s Seat matter of philosophy, thither winded the philosophic fair of the Athens, under the soft beams of the chaste moon, just to see whether they could catch a glimpse of the green elves, capering and dancing to the tune of “Catherine Ogie,” as Scotch fairies had been known to do from time immemorial.
But the best system that ever came into general practice and belief, has proved to be that of the skull-men,—a system which, though the Athenians gainsayed it a little at the outset, they have subsequently fallen deeper into than any other people upon the earth or moon; and in a truly-bred Athenian company, you are sure to have your cranium thumbed over by every lady and gentleman. This is an excellent system, if there be truth in it; and indeed, whether there be truth in it or not, it brings the papillæ of the fingers, whose very use is the receiving of impressions, into contact as it were with the very elements of the soul; and when the delicate fingers of a lady are measuring the base and altitude of No. 1. in a gentleman’s neck, there is every chance that the embers of the tender passion, if they have not previously been charred to incineration, shall blaze or burn.
Nor is this the only use to which the Athenians apply this philosophy. They are so quick in their perception, that they instantly know the strong and the weak points of your character, and they regulate their proceedings accordingly. If, for instance, your indications of combativeness be strongly developed, they are sure never to offer the least insult; but if you be wanting in those indications, they make you feel it. If your forehead shows wit, they are exceedingly humdrum and metaphysical; but if the contrary, they treat you with quips and puns without end. Knowing from the peculiar structure and exercise of their own admiration, that people admire the most that in which they excel the least, they make sure of shining by turning the conversation to those subjects of which, judging from your organization, you have the least.
The religion of the Athenians is, perhaps, one of their greatest peculiarities: they,—meaning the people of consideration, and not the populace,—are the most religiously irreligious people that one can imagine. A few years ago, when it was the fashion to be sceptical, the very name of going to church stamped a man as belonging to the veriest vulgar; but the kirk has again come into vogue, and it is now just as much a mark of vulgarity not to go there, as it then was to go. If, however, the value of their church-going were to be tried by their conduct during the week, its moral advantages would not be found great. But it answers many purposes: the official men find their interest in being kirk-elders; ladies and gentlemen see each other; and after so pious and praise-worthy a thing as church-going, there can be little harm in an assignation, or an adjournment to a tavern-dinner,—occurrences which are very frequent upon the evenings of Athenian Sundays. When you have witnessed the deep and prolonged potations of some Athenian worthy upon the Saturday night, when you have heard the racy jokes and anecdotes with which he enlivened his cups, and when you have marked how small store he set by the principles as well as the practices of religion, you wonder at the calm face that he puts on as he stands at the church-door, watching the pence and sixpences that are thrown into the charity-plate. It is all a cloak, however, and like other cloaks, the more cumbrous that it is, it is the sooner cast off. One cause of its being put on at all, may be, that the fashion of the higher classes going to church carries the lower classes there also; and nobody can pass the receiving hoard, which is watched by a provost or a judge, without contributing something to the increase of voluntary charity; which being thus obtained from the poor, prevents the necessity of levying so large contributions on the rich. I have stated this reason, not only because it is both pleasurable and profitable, but because, whatever it may be in its primary intention, in its ultimate result it is good. Every thing which tends to place the labouring classes, if but for a moment, or during the performance of a single act, upon the same level with those who do not labour, is highly advantageous to them; and thus, admitting that the Athenians go to church as well to save their pockets as to compound for the doings of the week, the said Athenians do, upon that account, deserve nothing but praise.
Leaving the church-going, and subsequent feasting and flirtation out of the question, there is something peculiar in an Athenian Sabbath: it seems as though useful labour and innocent amusements were the only things that deserve to be suspended. The advocates are a privileged class, and it is no scandal in them to drudge at their cases. As little is there any harm whatever in oral discussion of any subject imaginable; but if a maid-servant were to hum a tune, an advocate’s wife to give a thump to the piano-forte, or a boarding-school miss to peep into a new novel, the Athens would be in the utmost jeopardy of sinking in the Forth, in which the sinner would have some chance of being ducked. It must not, however, be supposed that among such a people as the Athenians, the Sunday is a day of idleness. It is no such thing; for with both men and women, it is the choice and chosen day of the week, set apart to all manner of gossip and enjoyment; and though it be not the fashion for the people to listen to the music of instruments, or read profane books, yet the music of woman’s tongue is soft and sweet, and the book of fate is opened. Whether the present church-going propensity of the Athens shall continue, is a question that it would be difficult to solve; but that the Athens will continue to enjoy herself upon Sunday nights, may be received into the catalogue of truths that are demonstrated.