Posted on 06/14/2024 6:50:28 PM PDT by Fester Chugabrew
As women are a considerable, or at least a pretty numerous part of company, and as their sufferages go a great way toward establishing a man's character, in the fashionable part of the world (which is of great importance to the fortune and figure he proposes to make in it), it is necessary to please them.
I will, therefore, upon this subject, let you into certain *arcana* that will be very useful for you to know, but which you must, with the utmost care, conceal; and never seem to know.
Women, then, are only children of a large growth; they have an entertaining tattle, and sometimes wit; but for solid, reasoning good sense, I never in my life knew one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentially for four and twenty hours together.
Some little passion or humor always breaks in upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected or controverted, their age increased, or their supposed understandings depreciated, instantly kindles their little passions, and overturns any system of consequential conduct, that in their most reasonable moments they might have been capable of forming.
A man of sense only trifles with them, plays with them, humors and flatters them, as he does with a sprightly, forward child; but he neither consults them about, nor trusts them with, serious matters; though he often makes them believe that he does both, which is the thing in the world that they are proud of, for the love mightily to be dabbling in business (which, by the way, they always spoil); and being justly distrustful, that men in general look upon them in a trifling light, they almost adore that man who talks more seriously to them, and who seems to consult and trust them - I say, who seem - for weak men really do, but wise men only seem to do it.
No flattery is either too high or too low for them. They will greedily swallow the highest, and gracefully accept of the lowest; and you may safely flatter any woman, from her understanding to the exquisite taste of her fan.
Women, who are either indisputably beautiful or indisputably ugly, are best flattered upon the score of their understandings; but those who are in a state of mediocrity are best flattered upon their beauty, or at least their graces, for every woman who is not absolutely ugly thinks herself handsome, but not hearing often that she is so, is the more grateful and the more obliged to the few who tell her so; whereas a decided and conscious beauty looks upon every tribute paid to her beauty as only her due, but wants to shine, and to be considered on the side of her understanding; and a woman; who is ugly enough to know that she is so, knows that she has nothing left for it but her understanding, which is consequently (and probably in more senses than pone) her weak side.
But these secrets which you must keep inviolably, if you would not, like Orpheus, be torn to pieces by the whole sex. On the contrary, a man who thinks of living in the great world must be gallant, polite, and attentive to please the women.
They have from the weakness of men, more or less influence in all courts; they absolutely stamp every man's character in the *beau monde,* and make it either current, or cry it down, and stop it in payments.
It is, therefore, absolutely necessary to manage, please, and flatter them; and never to discover the least marks of contempt, which is what they never forgive; but in this they are not singular, for it is the same with men; who will much sooner forgive an injustice than an insult.
How about this one? It is advice from Chesterfield to his son. For yours truly it largely rings true, but Chesterfield elsewhere gives counsel in so many words not to stereotype whole masses.
Anyway, this is sure to rile the priests and priestesses of confusion in our midst.
Samuel Johnson: another trove of English wit and wisdom I will never have time in this life to imbibe as I wish.
TTIUWP
(Throws spell) “Okay, you’re a sandwich!”
And some of the best writing never made it into books but was in letters or in the press with one author taking swipes at another.
There is a special vat of acid in which they dip their pen.
Chesterfield, the one who tupped the governess?
*checking Boswell* ... ... ... This could take a while.
And a bunch of the lower panel has short circuits.
Any minute now, the little gals of FR will be along with a nasty disposition to criticize our good natured humor at the fairer sex.
ROFL!
Excuse me. The correct spelling is “sammich.”
Ok. Thats funny.
You know, there is some beauty in that. In fact, it enhances procreation. Not without difficulty, but nevertheless.
The meme misspelled “sammich”...
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