AMENITIES OF CIVILISATION.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume IX, Issue 1016, 24 December 1881, Page 4

AMENITIES OF CIVILISATION.

Of all-the various accomplishments of a man vf the world, there is none which is of more importance than dissimulation. This proposition may at first seem rather staggering to an unsophisticated mind, but its truth is incontrovertible. An absolute uprightness is an absolute impossibility, except perhaps amongst seraphims ; amongst beings whose nature is not quite or entirely free from wickedness and other imperfections, dissimulation is neither more nor less than a sine qua non of harmony and concord, and, therefore, of society. But if dissimulation is necessary for the stability and conservation of a community, it is of even greater importance to the charms and delights of social intercourse. The first only require that we should take no notice of one another’s hatred and scorn, while the latter make it incumbent upon every individual to delude himself into the belief that he is possessed of the good wishes, esteem, and respect of his fellow-beings.

This “consummation devoutly to be wished for ” is attainable through the interposition or mediation of two very beautiful and very charming graces, daughters of dissimulation — viz., civility , which avoids to offend ; and politeness, which tries to please. In order to please in this world, we require sometimes a veil, and sometimes a mask: we must not only not show what we are, but we must show what we are not. Decency requires that we should conceal our faults ; politeness only demands that we should veil them —that we should not expose them to view in their nakedness. Indeed, so indispensable are faults in order to please, that he who has none, or who should succeed in completely concealing them, would be sure to be looked upon as a veritable bear, or as entirely destitute of good breeding and politeness. On the other hand, politeness imperatively requires that we should conceal our own merits, and in this respect politeness is like modesty. Both study by the same means either to spare the blameworthy a reproach or mediocrity a humiliation. But, while the means is the same, there is this difference—that what in the one is a tupy feeling of charity and forbearance is to the other simply a matter of calculation, the solution of a problem in the higher analysis. Under a despotic form of government, dissimulation is indeed the first duty of the subject, and on it depend life and death. A lack of dissimulation here is tantamount to high treason. “My son, be upright. Speak the truth always'” Oh, ye foolish pedagogues.! A e know your catechism well enough, but ye know nothing of the world, of society, of morals, of laws—absolutely nothing ! You might as well say :■“ My son, be a beast; be a fool ; be a clown ; be coarse; be vulgar! Offend thy friends ! Show no respect to thy superiors! Be ridi cnlous and abominable ! Throw away thy chances of success in the world ; and wind up with inevitable and hopeless ruin 1”

I humbly believe that the reason why so many excellent and estimable people “ have a down ” is because they mix it up cr confound it in their mind with deceit, which of course is quite another and a different thing altogether.

The deceiver— even the sweet deceiver—always dissembles; but he that disssembles does not or need not always or necessarily deceive. This makes a great difference. The two are distinguished by the difference in their purposes and objects ; the object of deceit is to harm or injure. We say, the art of dissimulation; but we do not say, tie art of deceit, any more than we say the art of baseness, of malice, of pride. Dissimulation, therefore, is neither a virtue nor a vice ; it is a deduction of the reason, not a quality of the heart. We say, further, to be deceitful; to practice dissimulation. Hence, deceit is something permanent, something fixed in the character of a man ; while dissimulation is only a robe, which we assume or doff at pleasure, or as occasion may require or demand, but which, if never doffed, is apt to disfigure its wearer.

By a diligent and persevering exercise of the most refined and recherche dissimulation, we have not yet got beyond concealing our own features and showing those of somebody else ; and perhaps we could have been satisfied with this if none but ourselves had known the trick. But since al! the world has found out how to put on and wear the mask, it becomes necessary that we should be able to recognise people, notwithstanding their disguise. This may be accomplished in two different ways —by seeing through *he mask, or by stealthily looking under it. The first is to be “ sharp,” or keenness ; the latter is finesse.

In morals, as in physics, fineness is always associated or correlated with an idea of feebleness and smallness. We speak of a. fine whist-player not a fine statesman ; a, fine courtier, but not a fine philosopher. Cleverness is only the clumsiness of finesse. A. clever man is always and openly trying to perplex and confuse us. He does not know how to conceal h s apparatus; he puts everybody on their guard.

Ir is not quite true that “ qui ditfin, dit friponP Finesse, like keenness, is a faculty of the mind, and consequently neither good nor bad in its nature; but, when combined with deceit, it becomes cunning. Cunning

is distinguished from deceit only by a superior intellect. The most stupid man in the world can be deceitful, but not cnlining.

Betwixt finesse and cunning we may place shrewdness, whose complexion, though deeper than that of the first, is not necessarily malicious like that of the latter. Shrewdness, moreover, is a weapon of defence rather than of offence. Cunning sets snares, but shrewdness is too wary to be caught in them. If cunning is allowed free scope, it may become what we understand by treachery ; but when used as an instrument of government it is usually called policy— a rather ill-natured figure of speech. An imposter and a statesman are essentially not the same thing, although they are often met with in the person. Under the circumstances, perhaps it would be better to say a deep politician and a cunning knave.