A cure for scandal, or Detraction displayed : as exhibited by gossips, talkers-over, laughers-at, banterers, nicknamers, stingers, scorners, sneerers, eye-inflicters, mimicks, caricaturists and epigrammatists

Front matter

We Sek c

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Contents

Page.

Cuapter 1. Introduction, . . : ; 9

“ 2. On General and Particular Competition, , : ‘ : 11 3. The subject continued, Set ee 4. On the Pronoun Possessive, Baie 3. 5. The subject resumed, : ae 6. On Precedence, &c. . . ; 47 7. On Religious Competition, 2) oe 8. On Detraction, . ; : 2 65 9. On the different classes of Detractors, : : ; : 75 «10. On Practical Detraction, . ae 4 “11. On the Vocabulary of Detraction, 126 © . « 12. On some of the most prominent subjects of Detraction, Authoresses, Blue-stockings, Medical men, Converts to serious Re- BRIOB NY Hie, 255, oC Cee isis

Preface

Wiru more than usual self-distrust, I give this book to the world, and under circumstances of a new and trying nature. The voice of affectionate encouragement, which used to animate me to my task, | can hear no more; and when, from the force of habit, I have sometimes turned round, while writing, to ask as in former times for counsel and advice, I have

_been painfully reminded, that the judicious critic, as well as tender parent, was removed from me forever. But I have the consolation of knowing, that should this work excite severe animadversion, he will not share in this expected pain;—I say “‘ expected,” because detraction is as common as the air we breathe, and to some, from long indulgence in it, it is now almost as necessary ; and an endeavor to

Vili A PREFACE, substitute profitable discourse for talking-over

and laughing at one’s friends and neighbors,

will be thought nearly as cruel as to exclude o the air necessary for respiration.

Nor have JI been encouraged to my labors | by any sanguine expectation of doing good: for so rare is self-knowledge, that though I am often told that Detraction abounds, that my work is necessary, and will, no doubt, benefit others, scarcely any one says, “I hope it will be of benefit to me ;’”’ yet, general improvement can only be the result of individual reformation. Besides, even those persons, who complain that the sin is universal, speak in a cares less, indifferent tone, as if they thought it had

~ acquired a prescriptive right to remain so, and that the endeavor to make it less common must

SS pees ee a ¢ be Utopian Reverie.

I have, however, been cheered in my labors.by one conviction,—namely, that though what I have written may offend many of my readers, and benefit but few, it will at least, as . LT humbly trust, warn and amend myseE.r.

ee

DETRACTION DISPLAYED.

Introduction

iv is a generally admitted truth, that opsERvat10N is one of the most effectual methods of improving the imind—observation, therefore, may be justly reckoned amongst the most valuable faculties which we possess. But, like all other gifts, it is» liable to be abused, especially when it is exercised on the character of others; for then, if not under the directing and restraining power of religious principles, it leads to that pernicious vice in society, known by tle name of DETRACTION.

T'o observe (that is to discover) the faults and vices of those with whom we associate, is often a measure necessary for self-defence. But if the observers of the frailties of their friends and acquaintances make those frailties the theme of backbiting conversation, they pervert the useful faculty of observation to the pernicious purposes of DETRACTION.

All who have lived in the world with any consciousness of their own besetting sins, or those of © others, must readily admit, that in every class or rank in society, from the peer to the peasant, from the master to the valet, from the mistress to the maid, from the most learned to the most ignorant,

10 INTRODUCTION.

from the man of genius to the man of the meanest capacity, detraction is amongst the most common of all vices, and is one in which persons indulge with perfect self-complacency as well as evident enjoyment.

Should self-reproach and moral disgust at along continued detracting conversation Jead any individ ual to endeavor to change the subject, and raise its tone toa more intellectual pitch, how often is the virtuous effort wholly fruitless—how often do the conversers seize the first opportunity of escaping from the useful consideration of things, to the mischievous discussion of persons; till, to the mental eye, the scene of this petty warfare against absent friends and acquaintances seems strewed with mutilated qualities, mangled talents and shattered reputations.

It is my intention to point out the deformity of this common vice in the following pages; though I am well aware, that no small degree of unpopular-

Stet ee!

ity attends on all authors who hold up to their read- — ers, as in a mirror, their darling and daily sins, |

But to excuse my presumption to them as well as to myself, I beg leave to add that, in writing this book, I have been influenced by the wish to effect — my own reformation as well as that of others; for, being conscious of falling frequently into the sin of detraction, I could in no surer way arm myself against myself, than by publishing precepts which it will be incumbent upon me to enforce by my own example. .

I intend to show the origin of this besetting sin; to describe its habitual style, and the situations which are most likely to lead into the practice of it; to divide into classes the different species of detractors ; and humbly to suggest such hints for sel government in conversation, as may, if acted upon, preclude even the desire to indulge in detraction, he. Z Wi 4

COMPETITION. ll

Chapter II. On General And Particular Competition

WHENEVER we see a great effect produced, it is natural for us to wish to find out its most efficient cause. Therefore, as detraction possesses unlimited power in society, one is desirous of ascertaining its chief source ; and it appears to me, that the most abundant source of detraction is coMPE- TiIT1IoN. The love of distinction and notice, common to us all, prompts to GENERAL and PARTICULAR competition ; and when we are conscious that those with whom we are put in competition, by ourselves or others, are more noticed and distinguished than we are, by particular individuals, or by the world at large, envy is excited in our hearts, and that env leads to detraction. Hence, though | freely admit that detraction, and even defamation, may sometimes proceed from a mere love of talking, I still believe that they are usually caused by GENERAL OR PARTICULAR COMPETITION.

Competition is not confined to the human species. Petted animals are as susceptible of it as men and women. They are displeased when they see occasional caresses bestowed by their owners on rival favorites; and if neglected for other pets, their. jealousy is manifested to every one, and they not - unfrequently vent their rage on the objects of their envy. They can, however, inflict injuries only on the body; but human beings can injure the fame and the peace also of their rivals. For it frequently happens that some one, either through ill-judging kindness, or real malignity, in the garb of good intention, lets the subjects of satire know, that their claims to virtues, talents, and graces, are nibbled

* away by the teeth of time-killing gossips, or torn in pieces by the fangs of scandal-mongers, and murderers of reputations.

I shall now endeavor to define what I consider to be general, and what particular competition.

General competition is a desire of notice and attention, common to us all. lew persons enter into society without wishing to become objects of notice at least. Even the humblest of human beings would be hurt, if, while passing an evening in company, no conversation was addressed to themselves, and they would not only exclaim against the dulness of the party, but would naturally feel envious of their coimpanions: and unless under strong religious or moral restraint, they would be led to detract from the merit of the rest of the company the next time that they were named in their presence. Detraction, consequently, would, in this case, be the result of the pisAPPOINTED DESIRE OF NoTICE. Nor was it necessary that the persons so disappointed should imagine they possessed claims to distinetion : they might be, as I before observed, the humblest of their species, but it was enough that they were social beings, that they had human sympathies ; that attention and notice appeared to them a sort of public property, to which with others they had a common right ; and being denied participation in it, they gave way to envy, and envy led to detraction. But had they possessed certain talents, and exerted them at the party, in rivalship with their companions, they would have been in PARTICULAR COMPE- TITION ; and had they felt themselves excelled, their comments would probably have been more severe, as then the prize aimed at would not only have been notice, but admiration, and in proportion to the ambition, is usually the disappointment.

[ must here observe, that though we may be unconsciously in general competition, and know not that our detraction proceeds from the envy which a sense of rivalry excites; we must be conscious when we are in particular competition, and if we reflect at all, our motives must be clear to us ds they are to others.

Professional jealousy is proverbial, and whence does this proceed but from competition? But in a metropolis, competition is general, in a provincial town it becomes particular; as the narrower the field of rivalry, the more pointed is the jealousy. But though all unsuccessful rivalship is hard to bear, that which more immediately provokes the deadly vengeance of the detracting tongue, is the successful rivalship that is forced upon the sight and the conviction. The barrister or the solicitor, the physician or the surgeon, who sits at home anxiously expecting the business which, for him, never arrives, though he concludes that it goes to some one else, will probably be tempted to some unkind remarks on his more successful brethren. But if the solicitor who has no clients, enters an assize or sessions-court, time after time, as a spectator and an idle one merely ; if the barrister sits in those courts ee and unheeded, seeing his rivals employed, and listening reluctantly to their successful eloquence ; if the medical man, while going on foot to visit his two or three patients, sees the never-resting gigs or chariots of his competitors driving across his path, proving at every turn their superior popularity; it is, I believe, impossible for wnregenerated nature, not to feel sensations of mortification and envy, which would very probably lead to the bitterest remarks on the professional skill of the successful rivals.

But the jealousies of competition and its results are by no means confined to the professions of Law and Physic. Pusiic CHARACTERS in ALL professions, experience the dangerous feelings produced by general and particular competition; and the most distinguished amongst them have often suffered in their interest, their reputation, and their peace of mind, from the detraction and defamation excited by their success,

Painters and sculptors, may be said to be always in general competition, and consequently are exposed to the Eonens which attend it; but they are in particular competition, when their performances are submitted to public view in a gallery, or in the annual exhibition at Somerset House. If an artist enters the exhibition rooms day after day, and sees a loudly-applauding crowd before the pictures or sculpture of others, while no one is standing, in either loud or silent admiration, before his own, he must be under a very unusual degree of moral goyernment, if he forbears to detract from the merit of the work so evidently preferred to his own; and will undoubtedly return home from this scene of disappointed claims, with a sense of mortification, which nothing can allay but rigid criticism on the performances of his rivals ; in which his eye, seeing through the medium of unsuccessful competition, magnifies defects, and throws beauties into the shade.

All candidates for fame must be wounded by reading the praises of their successful competitors in the daily prints, if nothing, or nothing in commendation, be said of themselves. But those who are brought, at the same time, into personal and direct competition in public, are tempted to detraction more powerfully than any other class; because loud applauses are often bestowed on some of those competitors, while the rest are heard in silence, or find their efforts received with marked disapprobation. Hence the jealousy of persons in these classes of society is said to be the strongest; but, if it be so, considering the infirmity of human nature, it must be allowed to be the most excusable.

Authors also, as public characters, are often under the influence of painful feelings excited by competition. Except when they are competitors for prizes at college, they are not, indeed, called into that close rivalry which causes the most bitter jealousy, and its most painful results; but they are exposed to feel envy and mortification, and do undoubtedly feel them, if they see their own works criticised, and those of others commended.

Before I proceed, | would fain impress on the minds of those who read this book, and are mai enough to admit the possibility of their learning something from worldly experience, though they may think meanly of the ability of the author, that the simple desire of Novice and arvEeNTION, without the exertion and collision of similar talents, is sufficient to account for much of the detraction which exists in society. Dr. Goldsmith was a remarkable proof of the truth of this assertion. Boswell says, that “ when Goldsmith was accompanying two beautiful young ladies, with their mother, on a tour to France, he was seriously angry that more respect was paid to them than to him.” And Dr. Johnson said of him, “Sir, he is so afraid of being unnoticed, that he often talks lest one should forget he isin the company.” And once, (according to Boswell,) at the exhibition of the Fantoccini in London, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with some warmth, “ Pshaw i I can do it better myself.” It is also related of him, that he expressed a wish to destroy the Lincolnshire ox, because it was the theme of general wonder, and the object of general attention. This was, undoubtedly, the simple sEaLousy of Noricr, as he could not compete in beauty with the ladies in question, nor with the mechanist in skill, nor with the ox in size, but he was impatient and angry merely because they attracted attention from himself. f os

It is with reluctance that [ have brought forwar the infirmities of a man so highly gifted as Oliver Goldsmith—a writer from whose works the British public has probably derived more varied intelleetual delight, than from most other authors; but I thought it necessary in order to strengthen my own opinion on this subject. However, it may be advantageous to us all to remember, that, as a mind, powerful and superior as his, was liable to be overcome by the vice of envy, it was doubly incumbent on weaker minds to be watchful against its power ; for, whether it be in little or in great things, the feeling

competition in us is daily called forth, and its results are often degrading to ourselves, and mischievous to others.

The candid and the generous could turn from Goldsmith’s weaknesses to admire his excelling talents; but how can detractors escape unmitigated censure, who, without talents to compensate for their defects, often take a mean delight in ridiculing ** the excellence they cannot reach.”

The competition amongst women on the score of personal charms is notorious, and the rivalry of professed beauties, is even proverbial. Addison, in the first volume of the Spectator, gives a story illustrative of this sort of competition, which I originally intended to introduce in these pages, but as I have never seen it carried to such weak and odious lengths as he describes, amongst beauties of the

resent day, and think the whole tale beyond the bitwde of nature and probability, 1 shall simply refer my readers to the tale itself.

But though I cannot fully accede to the truth of Addison’s painting, in the tale in question, yet I believe, that most women, and I dare say most men, can remember that, at some period of their lives, they have gone into company, meaning to enter into general, and perhaps, particular competition ; not on the score of beauty, like Phillis and Brunetta in the tale, but on that of agreeableness and smartness..in dress and appearance, and that in proportion to their conviction of having attracted superior notice and general admiration, has been their pleasure during the evening ; and according to their consciousness of failure in the objects of their ambition, has been its pain. “How did you like the party last night, at Lady ’s,” said a friend of mine to an acquaintance, (now no more, I believe,) who piqued herself on her personal charms. “O! it was delightful!” was her ingenuous reply, “ all the women were so ugly!” There the feeling of competition was carried on to the utmost, for the party was rendered delightful to this lady, merely by her conviction that no one present could compete with her in beauty. I shall now treat of competitions of perhaps a lower nature. Competitions general and particular in houses, furniture and style of living.

ri We must live up to our rank or station in life, or to our real or imputed fortune,” is often the language of the head or ruler of every considerable family in Europe, probably, when parsimony or principle does not prevent this feeling from being acted upon. “We must live as our neighbors and equals do,” is another axiomic phrase, by which many persons in society are governed in their domestic arrangements. And a feeling of general competition is its Source amongst the first class, and of particular competition amongst the latter.

The man of rank desires to live as his ancestors did, and as his peers do, but does not wish to vie with any particular individual in his own class. The man of a certain station, or consequence in life, wishes to live like men of his standing in the world; and the rich or seemingly rich man 1s desirous of living like other men in the world at large, who appear on a level with himself; and these persons are consequently in general competition. But those who say, “ we must live, and do as our neighbors live and do,” are residents probably in the bounded circle of a country town or village, and have some family or persons in view with whom they feel particular competition. In a metropolis, one has no neighbors, nor is it easy to ascertain who there are one’s equals or inferiors. It is in provincial residences that the feeling of particular competition is called forth ;—it is from the facility of ascertaining, with some degree of accuracy, who our neighbors are, and whether our friends and relations, are equal to ourselves in opulence, that this often ensnaring and ruinous rule of living, this proof of pride of heart and weakness of judgment, escapes the lips, “ One must do as our neighbors do, one must live as one’s neighbors live.” And, perhaps, the sense of competition can never be so dangerous as when it prompts to the foregoing expressions, and instead of principle and prudence, makes the expenses of others the regulation of our own. The following dialogue will not only exemplify my meaning, but at the same time represent a true picture of many family deliberations.

“ Pray, papa, let me learn music,” says an ambitious little girl to her indulgent father: “Emily D learns, and why should not I?” “ Because her papais very rich, my dear, and I am not.” “O! dear papa, I am sure you can afford it as well as he, and really, papa, every body wonders you do not Jet me Jearn as Fmity does.” “ But it costs so much money, Louisa, and these are hard times, besides, Emily has an ear for music, and you perhaps have not.” ©O! dear papa, [ am sure 1 have quite as good an ear as she has, and she has very little voice, and I havea great deal. Dear me! every body says I should sing and play so well if | were to learn! and really, papa, people will think you quite stingy.” “ Well, well, child, if I know myself not to be so, that does not signify ; but I will hear what your mother says.” “Q! papa, [ know mamma wishes it as much as 1 do; she does not like Emily D should be more accomplished than I am.” “ Nor I neither, my dear; but you are young yet.” “ Young, papa! I am two months older than Emily D——.” “Indeed! well, but wait till next year.” “ Next year! and let Emily get so much before me! I might then just as well not learn at all.” Here, just as the young voice is beginning, probably, to falter with ‘mingled anger and disappointment, the mother enters. “So, my dear,” cries her husband, “TI find - you have been putting extravagant wishes into our child’s head.” “ How so?” ‘She wishes to learn music, and says that you approve it.” “ Well, my dear, and so [ do, and where is the extravagance or impropriety? you can afford it; and really, those D—~—s and those L——-s are so set up, and so conceited of their children’s acquirements, that as our Louisa is quite as clever as they are, I do think she ought to have as many advantages.” “I think so too; but if she has a music master, she must give up her drawing master. I cannot with prudence let her have both.” Here an indignant exclamation from both mother and daughter interrupts the speaker, and Louisa falters out, “Give up my drawing master, papa, just as I have begun to copy prints >” * What, my dear, make the poor child give up her master now that he says she has such a genius, that she has already made a better copy of a head of Vandyke, than Emily D , who has learnt twice the time ; and that Harriet L——’s eyes, noses, and ears, though she is much older, are not to be compared to Louisa’s?” “Is this really the case?” cries the gratified father, overcome by these proofs of his child’s superiority ; “ well then, I fear I must consent to let Louisa have two masters at once, but she must promise to be very diligent, and learn quickly, for I assure you, my dear, that business just now is very dead, and things are not going well, and I feel that I ought to draw in a little; however, I am willing to stretch a point for Louisa’s advantage.”

Thus the feeling of competition with the set up D sand L s, comes in aid of parental affection, and parental vanity, and the point is carried: Emily D-—— must not be permitted to excel his own daughter in what, by the world, is deemed indispensable knowledge ; and the suggestions of a - well principled prudence are wholly disregarded. Nor, probably, will these indulgent parents ever hear Emily D sing or play with any pleasure again. ‘They will always be comparing her performance with that of their own Louisa, and they will be ready to say, that she sings out of tune, and plays out of time,-whenever her musical abilities are the theme of conversation. Yet far be it from me to ridicule even the weakness of parental affection. A tender and indulgent parent must ever be in my eyes, an object of affectionate reverence ; but in this instance, and I believe it is a common instance, the indulgence was not the result of yieldingvaffection only, but was full as much occasioned by a weak feeling of particular competition, and that feeling was leading the father to permit what his circumstances could but ill afford; he was therefore running the risk of injuring the fortune of that very child, whose young and dangerous ambition he was thus thoughtlessly willing to gratify. Alas! I fear we all have, or have had, though in different instances, and on different occasions, our Emily D 8, and our Harriet L s.

I shal] now recapitulate what has been said in this chapter.

That competition is of two kinds, general and particular.

Vhat general competition is often wnconscious, but that particular competition must be consciously experienced. That both lead to envy and to detraction.

That competition is not confined to the human species, but that petted animals are equally susceptible of it.

That professional jealousies are proverbial, whether they be those of general competition in a metropolis, or particular competition in a country town, but that those of the latter are from the closeness..of the competitorship, the most bitter, and most likely to lead to detraction.

That all public characters, when brought into immediate collision, are more especially exposed to

_ feel envy, and be guilty of detraction, as the result

| of particular competition.

‘y Phat it is not necessary to be in particular comiy petition to feel envy; that a general desire for notice is sufficient to cause it, and I give anecdotes of Dr. Goldsmith to prove this.

That the jealous rivalry of women on the score of personal charms is notorious: and lastly, “ we must do as others do, and live as others live,” is a powerful but dangerous rule of action.

CHAPTER IIL. —

THE SUBJECT CONTINUED.

THE competition between party and ball giving ladies is every where known and acknowledged, whether they reside in a metropolis or in the country, ina city or a villase—whether the giver of the entertainment be a dutchess, or only the wife of a country gentleman, or a rich tradesman; but, even on these occasions, the bitterness of the rivalry must be in proportion to the closeness of the competition. :

“When Greek meets Greek then comes the tug of war.” The peeress will be, comparatively, indifferent to the consciousness that her entertainment was inferior in splendor and excellence to that of her country or city rivals; nor will the latter be mortified at hearing of the superior attractions of the fete given by the peeress.

But, if the peeress be outshone by a rival peeress, and the country lady and rich citizen’s wife be eclipsed by party givers of their own rank in life, then the unsuccessful competition leads to particular envy, and that envy, most probably, vents itself in detraction.

But, though particular as well as general competition as certainly takes place in a metropolis as in a provincial residence, it is more common in the narrow circle of a country town, and its neighborhood.

Competition in giving a dinner, and in the excellence as well as number of the dishes, is never so powerful perhaps as in a bounded circle, and it is rarely that professed dinner-givers there admit that they ever voge or eat, an elegant and good dinner

Be COMPETITION.

any where but'at their own table; not that they are at all to be pitied on this occasion; for the pain of eating ill-dressed viands is not to be weighed in the balance against the satisfaction with which the dinner-giver utters, “It was certainly not such a dinner as I should have given!” This is however one of the most innocent detractions, and I mention it merely to show how immediately, even in trifles, detraction is the result of competition; “ And little things are great to little men,” says the poet, as the following anecdote of a gentleman who lived many years in a country town in , will, I trust, amusingly exemplify. This gentleman piqued himself on giving good dinners, and equally so on entertaining, sometimes, at his well filled table, the noblemen and other great personages residing in the neighborhood. The day after one of these occasions, and when he thought that he and his cook had exceeded themselves, he called on a friend who lived near him to describe to her his conscious success, and give her a detail of the feast; but just before he had begun it, one of his late guests knocked at the door. “There is Mrs. such a one,” exclaimed he, “J dare say she will talk of my dinner. Let me hide myself behind the screen, I should so like to hear what she says of it.” Accordingly, not waiting for leave, the dinner-giver took possession of his hiding-place. He was right in his conjectures, for the lady (a dinner-giver herself probably) was full of the entertainment of the preceding day, and as soon as the question of “ but what dishes were in the first course ?” was asked, she.sregularly and rapidly mentioned them all, till she came to the fourth corner dish, which, after many attempts, she was still unable to remember, and was just saying, “T really do not know what that dish was,” when the impatient dinner-giver burst from his concealment regardless of exposure, and throwing down the screen in his eagerness to do his dinner justice, exclaimed, “Hot lobsters, ladies! hot lobsters!” This story may appear to others perhaps trifling and absurd, but had the censurers heard it, as I did, told by a lady who possesses, amongst many far higher and more valuable gifts, ? art de raconter in the highest perfection, they would probably have been as much amused by it as I was.