POLITENESS AT HOME.
"Manners are of more importance than laws. Upon these, in a great
measure, the laws depend. The law teaches us but here and there,
now and then. Manners are what vex or soothe, corrupt or purify,
exalt or debase, barbarize or refine us, by a constant, steady,
uniform, insensible operation, like that of the air we breathe
in. They give their whole form and colour to our lives. According
to their quality, they aid morals, they supply laws, or they
totally destroy them."--_Burke._
About twelve thousand police in London are able to take care of about
four million people. How is it done? Chiefly by moral force, and, above
all, by civility. Sir Edmund Henderson, the Chief Commissioner of the
force, said on a recent occasion that it was by "strict attention to
duty, by sobriety, and, above all, by civility," that the police
endeavoured to do their duty. "I lay great stress upon civility," said
the Chief Commissioner, "for I think it is the great characteristic of
the metropolitan police force."
If civility and politeness have such an influence upon the hard, rough
world of London how much greater will be the effect of good manners or
beautiful behaviour, not only in rendering comparatively safe the many
difficult crossings in the path of newly-married people, but also in
adorning even the smallest details of family life! True courtesy
exhibits itself in a disposition to contribute to the happiness of
others, and in refraining from all that may annoy them. And the
cultivation day by day of this sweet reasonableness is almost as
necessary to the comfort of those who live together as the daily calls
of the milkman and the baker. If no two people have it so much in their
power to torment each other as husband and wife, it is their bounden
duty to guard against this liability by cultivating the habit of
domestic politeness. It is a mistake to suppose that the forms of
courtesy can be safely dispensed with in the family circle. With the
disappearance of the forms the reality will too often disappear. The
very effort of appearing bright under adverse circumstances is sure to
render cheerfulness easier on another occasion.
Good manners like good words cost little and are worth much. They oil
the machinery of social life, but more especially of domestic life. If a
cheerful "good morning" and "good evening" conciliate strangers they are
not lost upon a wife. Hardness and repulsiveness of manner originate in
want of respect for the feelings of others.
"Remember," says Sydney Smith, "that your children, your wife, and your
servants have rights and feelings; treat them as you would treat persons
who could turn again. Do not attempt to frighten children and inferiors
by passion; it does more harm to your own character than it does good
to them. Passion gets less and less powerful after every defeat. Husband
energy for the real demand which the dangers of life make upon it." Good
manners are more than "surface Christianity." Rowland Hill was right
when he said, "I do not think much of a man's religion unless his dog
and cat are the happier for it."
"Woman was made out of a rib from the _side_ of Adam--not out of his
head to top him, not out of his feet to be trampled on by him, but out
of his side to be equal to him: under his arm to be protected, and near
his heart to be loved."
"Use the woman tenderly, tenderly;
From a crooked rib God made her slenderly:
Straight and strong He did not make her,
So if you try to bend you'll break her."
Men are cautioned by the Jewish Talmud to be careful lest they cause
women to weep, "for God counts their tears."
There are some people who stretch their manners to such an unnatural
degree in society that they are pretty sure to go to the opposite
extreme when relaxing at home. Feeling released from something that was
hanging over them they run wild and become rude in consequence of their
late restraint.
Is it not, to say the least, probable that such patient humility as the
following would be followed by a reaction? Bishop Thirlwall was
generally regarded, except by the small circle of those who knew him
intimately, with much awe by his clergy, who thought that they had
better keep as far as possible out of the way of their terribly logical
and rather sarcastic diocesan. The legend was that he had trained a
highly sagacious dog into the habit of detecting and biting intrusive
curates. An amusing story is told of a humble-minded Levite who was
staying at Abergwili Palace on the occasion of an ordination. An egg was
placed before him, which, on tapping, proved a very bad one indeed. The
Bishop made a kindly apology, and told a servant to bring a fresh one.
"No, thank you, my lord," replied the young clergyman, with a
penitential expression of countenance; "it is quite good enough for me."
We think that the clergyman's wife would have acted rashly if, soon
after this occurrence, _she_ should have tried the patience of her Job
with an antiquated egg.
The proverb "familiarity breeds contempt" suggests another reason why
the manners displayed at home are not, generally speaking, as good as
they should be.
There is generally greater harmony when a husband's duties necessitate
his remaining several hours of the day from home. "For this relief, much
thanks!" will be the not unnatural sentiment of a grateful wife. And to
the husband, on his return, home will appear far sweeter than if he had
idled about the house all day with nothing to do but torment his wife.
Richter says that distance injures love less than nearness. People are
more polite when they do not see too much of each other.
Madam! no gentleman is entitled to such distinguished consideration as
your husband. Sir! no lady is entitled to such deferential treatment as
your wife.
Awkward consequences that could not have been foreseen have sometimes
followed domestic rudeness. It is related of Lord Ellenborough that,
when on one occasion he was about to set out on circuit, his wife
expressed a wish to accompany him; a proposition to which his lordship
assented, provided there were no bandboxes tucked under the seat of his
carriage, as he had too often found there had been when honoured with
her ladyship's company before. Accordingly they both set out together,
but had not proceeded very far before the judge, stretching out his legs
under the seat in front of him, kicked against one of the flimsy
receptacles which he had specially prohibited. Down went the window with
a bang and out went the bandbox into the ditch. The startled coachman
immediately commenced to pull up, but was ordered to drive on and let
the thing lie where it was. They reached the assize town in due course,
and his lordship proceeded to robe for the court. "And now, where's my
wig?--where's my wig?" he demanded, when everything else had been
donned. "Your wig, my lord," replied the servant, tremulously, "was in
that bandbox your lordship threw out of the window as we came along."
Sir Robert Walpole used to say that he never despaired of making up a
quarrel between women unless one of them had called the other old or
ugly. In the same way married people need not despair of realizing truly
united and therefore happy lives if they will only study each other's
weak points, as skaters look out for the weak parts of the ice, in order
to keep off them.
Nothing is more unmanly as well as unmannerly than for a husband to
speak disparagingly of either his wife or of the marriage state before
strangers. Lord Erskine once declared at a large party that "a wife was
a tin canister tied to one's tail;" upon which Sheridan, who was present
when the remark was made, presented to Lady Erskine the following lines:
"Lord Erskine, at woman presuming to rail,
Calls a wife a tin canister tied to one's tail;
And fair Lady Anne, while the subject he carries on,
Seems hurt at his lordship's degrading comparison.
But wherefore degrading? Considered aright,
A canister's polished and useful and bright;
And should dirt its original purity hide,
That's the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied."
The "puppy" only got what he deserved.
When a husband happens to be a mere goose, happy if only a goose, though
he may keep up the delusion that he is the "head of the family," it
becomes the wife's duty to exercise real control. But she may be a
responsible Prime Minister without usurping, much less parading, the
insignia of Royalty. And if she have the feelings of a gentlewoman she
will not allow every one to _see_ the reins of government in her hand as
did a colonel's wife known to me, of whom even the privates and drummer
boys in her husband's (?) regiment used to say: "Mrs. ----, she's the
colonel." What Burke said of his wife's eyes describe woman's proper
place in the domestic Cabinet: "Her eyes have a mild light, but they awe
when she pleases; they command, like a good man out of office, not by
authority, but by virtue." Too often it is the poor wife who has to bear
the heaviest part of the burdens of domestic life while the unchivalrous
husband struts before as head of the house quite unencumbered.
Even the youngest child may claim to be treated with politeness. "I
feel," said President Garfield, "a profounder reverence for a boy than
for a man. I never meet a ragged boy in the street without feeling that
I may owe him a salute, for I know not what possibilities may be
buttoned up under his coat." Fathers should look upon their children
with respect, for he who is "only a child" may become a much better and
greater man than his father.
Without spoiling our children we should make their lives as pleasant as
we possibly can, always remembering that the poor things never asked to
be born, and that they may "not long remain." The boy dies perhaps at
the age of ten or twelve. Of what _use_ then all the restraints, all the
privations, all the pain, that you have inflicted upon him? He falls,
and leaves your mind to brood over the possibility of your having
abridged a life so dear to you.
For good and for evil home is a school of manners. Children reflect, as
in a mirror, not only the general habits and characters of their
parents, but even their manner of gesture and of speech. "A fig-tree
looking on a fig-tree becometh fruitful." If "a gentleman always a
gentleman" and "a lady always a lady" are the examples set by papa and
mamma, the children will take them in almost through the pores of the
skin.
"For the child," says Richter, "the most important era of life is that
of childhood, when he begins to colour and mould himself by
companionship with others. Every new educator affects less than his
predecessor, until at last, if we regard all life as an educational
institution, a circumnavigator of the world is less influenced by all
the nations he has seen than by his nurse."