COURTESY AT HOME.
There are many men in this world, who would be horror struck if accused
of the least breach of etiquette towards their friends and acquaintances
abroad, and yet, who will at home utterly disregard the simplest rules
of politeness, if such rules interfere in the least with their own
selfish gratification. They disregard the pure and holy ties which
should make courtesy at home a pleasure as well as a duty. They forget
that home has a sweet poetry of its own, created out of the simplest
materials, yet, haunting, more or less, the secret recesses of every
human heart; it is divided into a thousand separate poems, which should
be full of individual interest, little quiet touches of feeling and
golden recollections, which, in the heart of a truly noble man, are
interwoven with his very being. Common things are, to him, hallowed and
made beautiful by the spell of memory and association, owing all their
glory to the halo of his own pure, fond affection. The eye of a stranger
rests coldly on such revelations; their simple pathos is hard to be
understood; and they smile oftentimes at the quaintness of those
passages which make others weep. With the beautiful instinct of true
affection, home love retains only the good. There were clouds then,
even as now, darkening the horizon of daily life, and breaking tears or
wild storms above our heads; but he remembers nothing save the sunshine,
and fancies somehow that it has never shone so bright since! How little
it took to make him happy in those days, aye, and sad also; but it was a
pleasant sadness, for he wept only over a flower or a book. But let us
turn to our first poem; and in using this term we allude, of course, to
the poetry of idea, rather than that of the measure; beauty of which is
so often lost to us from a vague feeling that it cannot exist without
rhythm. But pause and listen, first of all, gentle reader, to the living
testimony of a poet heart, brimful, and gushing over with home
love:--"There are not, in the unseen world, voices more gentle and more
true, that may be more implicitly relied on, or that are so certain to
give none but the tenderest counsel, as the voices in which the spirits
of the fireside and the hearth address themselves to human kind!"
The man who shows his contempt for these holy ties and associations by
pulling off his mask of courtesy as soon as his foot passes his own
threshold, is not really a gentleman, but a selfish tyrant, whose true
qualities are not courtesy and politeness, but a hypocritical
affectation of them, assumed to obtain a footing in society. Avoid such
men. Even though you are one of the favored ones abroad who receive
their gentle courtesy, you may rest assured that the heartless egotism
which makes them rude and selfish at home, will make their friendship
but a name, if circumstances ever put it to the test. Above all, avoid
their example.
In what does the home circle consist? First, there are the parents who
have watched over your infancy and childhood, and whom you are commanded
by the Highest Power to "honor." Then the brothers and sisters, the wife
who has left her own home and all its tender ties for your sake, and the
children who look to you for example, guidance, and instruction.
Who else on the broad earth can lay the same claim to your gentleness
and courtesy that they can? If you are rude at home, then is your
politeness abroad a mere cloak to conceal a bad, selfish heart.
The parents who have anxiously watched over your education, have the
first right to the fruits of it, and all the _gentleman_ should be
exerted to repay them for the care they have taken of you since your
birth. All the rules of politeness, of generosity, of good nature,
patience, and respectful affection should be exerted for your parents.
You owe to them a pure, filial love, void of personal interest, which
should prompt you to study all their tastes, their likes, and aversions,
in order to indulge the one and avoid the other; you owe to them polite
attention, deference to all their wishes, and compliance with their
requests. Every joy will be doubled to them, if you show a frank
pleasure in its course, and no comfort can soothe the grief of a parent
so much as the sympathizing love of a dutiful son. If they are old,
dependent upon you for support, then can you still better prove to them
that the tender care they lavished upon you, when you depended upon
their love for everything, was not lost, but was good seed sown upon
fruitful ground. Nay, if with the infirmities of age come the crosses
of bad temper, or exacting selfishness, your duty still lies as plainly
before you. It is but the promptings of natural affection that will lead
you to love and cherish an indulgent parent; but it is a pure, high
virtue which makes a son love and cherish with an equal affection a
selfish, negligent mother, or a tyrannical, harsh father. No failure in
their duty can excuse you if you fail in yours; and, even if they are
wicked, you are not to be their judge, but, while you detest and avoid
their sin, you must still love the sinner. Nothing but the grossest and
most revolting brutality could make a man reproach his parents with the
feebleness of age or illness, or the incapacity to exert their talents
for support.
An eminent writer, in speaking of a man's duties, says: "Do all in your
power to render your parents comfortable and happy; if they are aged and
infirm, be with them as often as you can, carry them tokens of your
love, and show them that you feel a tender interest in their happiness.
Be all to your parents, which you would wish your children to be to
you."
Next, in the home circle, come your brothers and sisters, and here you
will find the little courtesies, which, as a gentleman, should be
habitual to you, will ensure the love a man should most highly prize,
the love of his brother and sister. Next to his filial love, this is the
first tie of his life, and should be valued as it deserves.
If you are the eldest of the family, you may, by your example, influence
your brothers to good or evil, and win or alienate the affections of
your little sisters. There is scarcely a more enthusiastic affection in
the world than that a sister feels for an elder brother. Even though he
may not repay the devotion as it deserves, she will generally cherish
it, and invest him with the most heroic qualities, while her tender
little heart, though it may quiver with the pain of a harsh word or rude
action, will still try to find an excuse for "brother's" want of
affection. If you show an interest in the pursuits of the little circle
at whose head your age entitles you to stand, you will soon find they
all look up to you, seek your advice, crave your sympathy, and follow
your example. The eldest son holds a most responsible position. Should
death or infirmity deprive him of a father's counsel, he should be
prepared to stand forth as the head of the family, and take his father's
place towards his mother and the younger children.
Every man should feel, that in the character and dignity of his sisters
his own honor is involved. An insult or affront offered to them, becomes
one to him, and he is the person they will look to for protection, and
to prevent its repetition. By his own manner to them he can ensure to
them the respect or contempt of other men whom they meet when in his
society. How can he expect that his friends will treat his sisters with
gentleness, respect, and courtesy, if they see him constantly rude,
disrespectful, and contemptuous towards them? But, if his own manner is
that of affectionate respect, he need not fear for them rudeness from
others, while they are under his protection. An American writer says:--
"Nothing in a family strikes the eye of a visitor with more delight than
to see brothers treat their sisters with kindness, civility, attention,
and love. On the contrary, nothing is more offensive or speaks worse
for the honor of a family, than that coarse, rude, unkind manner which
brothers sometimes exhibit."
The same author says:--
"Beware how you speak of your sisters. Even gold is tarnished by much
handling. If you speak in their praise--of their beauty, learning,
manners, wit, or attentions--you will subject them to taunt and
ridicule; if you say anything against them, you will bring reproach upon
yourself and them too. If you have occasion to speak of them, do it with
modesty and few words. Let others do all the praising and yourself enjoy
it. If you are separated from them, maintain with them a correspondence.
This will do yourself good as well as them. Do not neglect this duty,
nor grow remiss in it. Give your friendly advice and seek theirs in
return. As they mingle intimately with their sex, they can enlighten
your mind respecting many particulars relating to female character,
important for you to know; and, on the other hand, you have the same
opportunity to do them a similar service. However long or widely
separated from them, keep up your fraternal affection and intercourse.
It is ominous of evil when a young man forgets his sister.
"If you are living at home with them, you may do them a thousand little
services, which will cost you nothing but pleasure, and which will
greatly add to theirs. If they wish to go out in the evening--to a
lecture, concert, a visit, or any other object,--always be happy, if
possible, to wait upon them. Consider their situation, and think how
you would wish them to treat you if the case were reversed."
A young man once said to an elderly lady, who expressed her regret at
his having taken some trouble and denied himself a pleasure to gratify
her:--
"Madam, I am far away from my mother and sisters now, but when I was at
home, my greatest pleasure was to protect them and gratify all their
wishes; let me now place you in their stead, and you will not have cause
again to feel regret, for you can think 'he _must love_ to deny himself
for one who represents his mother.'"
The old lady afterwards spoke of him as a perfect gentleman, and was
contradicted by a younger person who quoted some fault in etiquette
committed by the young man in company. "Ah, that may be," said her
friend; "but what I call a gentleman, is not the man who performs to the
minutest point all the little ceremonies of society, but the one whose
_heart_ prompts him to be polite at home."
If you have left the first home circle, that comprising your parents,
brothers, and sisters, to take up the duties of a husband and father,
you must carry to your new home the same politeness I have advised you
to exert in the home of your childhood.
Your wife claims your courtesy more now, even, than when you were
courting her. She has given up, for your sake, all the freedom and
pleasures of her maidenhood, and to you she looks for a love that will
replace them all. Can you disappoint that trusting affection? Before
your marriage you thought no stretch of courtesy too great, if the
result was to afford her pleasure; why, then, not strive to _keep_ her
love, by the same gentle courtesy you exerted to _win_ it?
"A delicate attention to the minute wants and wishes of your wife, will
tend, more than anything else, to the promotion of your domestic
happiness. It requires no sacrifices, occupies but a small degree of
attention, yet is the fertile source of bliss; since it convinces the
object of your regard, that, with the duties of a husband, you have
united the more punctilious behaviour of a lover. These trivial tokens
of regard certainly make much way in the affections of a woman of sense
and discernment, who looks not to the value of the gifts she receives,
but perceives in their frequency a continued evidence of the existence
and ardor of that love on which the superstructure of her happiness has
been erected. The strongest attachment will decline, if you receive it
with diminished warmth."
Mrs. Thrale gives the following advice, which is worth the consideration
of every young man:
"After marriage," she says, "when your violence of passion subsides, and
a more cool and tranquil affection takes its place, be not hasty to
censure as indifferent, or to lament yourself as unhappy; you have lost
that only which it is impossible to retain; and it were graceless amidst
the pleasures of a prosperous summer, to regret the blossoms of a
transient spring. Neither unwarily condemn your bride's insipidity, till
you have recollected that no object, however sublime, no sound, however
charming, can continue to transport us with delight, when they no longer
strike us with novelty. The skill to renovate the powers of pleasing is
said, indeed, to be possessed by some women in an eminent degree, but
the artifices of maturity are seldom seen to adorn the innocence of
youth. You have made your choice and ought to approve it.
"To be happy, we must always have something in view. Turn, therefore,
your attention to her mind, which will daily grow brighter by polishing.
Study some easy science together, and acquire a similarity of tastes,
while you enjoy a community of pleasures. You will, by this means, have
many pursuits in common, and be freed from the necessity of separating
to find amusement; endeavor to cement the present union on every side;
let your wife never be kept ignorant of your income, your expenses, your
friendships, or your aversions; let her know your very faults, but make
them amiable by your virtues; consider all concealment as a breach of
fidelity; let her never have anything to find out in your character, and
remember that from the moment one of the partners turns spy upon the
other, they have commenced a state of hostility.
"Seek not for happiness in singularity, and dread a refinement of wisdom
as a deviation into folly. Listen not to those sages who advise you
always to scorn the counsel of a woman, and if you comply with her
requests pronounce you to be wife-ridden. Think not any privation,
except of positive evil, an excellence; and do not congratulate yourself
that your wife is not a learned lady, or is wholly ignorant how to make
a pudding. Cooking and learning are both good in their places, and may
both be used with advantage. With regard to expense, I can only observe,
that the money laid out in the purchase of luxuries is seldom or ever
profitably employed. We live in an age when splendid furniture and
glittering equipage are grown too common to catch the notice of the
meanest spectator; and for the greater ones, they can only regard our
wasteful folly with silent contempt or open indignation.
"This may, perhaps, be a displeasing reflection; but the following
consideration ought to make amends. The age we live in pays, I think, a
peculiar attention to the higher distinctions of wit, knowledge, and
virtue, to which we may more safely, more cheaply, and more honorably
aspire.
"The person of your lady will not grow more pleasing to you; but, pray,
let her not suspect that it grows less so. There is no reproof, however
pointed, no punishment, however severe, that a woman of spirit will not
prefer to neglect; and if she can endure it without complaint, it only
proves that she means to make herself amends by the attention of others
for the slights of her husband. For this, and for every other reason, it
behoves a married man not to let his politeness fail, though his ardour
may abate; but to retain, at least, that general civility towards his
own lady which he is willing to pay to every other, and not show a wife
of eighteen or twenty years old, that every man in company can treat her
with more complaisance than he who so often vowed to her eternal
fondness.
"It is not my opinion that a young woman should be indulged in every
wild wish of her gay heart, or giddy head; but contradiction may be
softened by domestic kindness, and quiet pleasures substituted in the
place of noisy ones. Public amusements, indeed, are not so expensive as
is sometimes imagined; but they tend to alienate the minds of married
people from each other. A well-chosen society of friends and
acquaintances, more eminent for virtue and good sense than for gaiety
and splendor, where the conversation of the day may afford comment for
the evening, seems the most rational pleasure that can be afforded. That
your own superiority should always be seen, but never felt, seems an
excellent general rule.
"If your wife is disposed towards jealousy of you, let me beseech you be
always explicit with her, never mysterious. Be above delighting in her
pain in all things."
After your duty to your wife comes that towards the children whom God
lends to you, to fit them to return pure and virtuous to him. This is
your task, responsibility, and trust, to be undertaken prayerfully,
earnestly, and humbly, as the highest and most sacred duty this life
ever can afford you.
The relationship between parent and child, is one that appears to have
been ordained by Providence, to bring the better feelings of mankind and
many domestic virtues into active exercise. The implicit confidence with
which children, when properly treated, look up to their elders for
guidance is not less beautiful than endearing; and no parents can set
about the work of guiding aright, in real earnest, without deriving as
much good as they impart. The feeling with which this labor of love
would be carried forward is, as the poet writes of mercy, twice
blessed:--
"It blesses him that gives and him that takes."
And yet, in daily life and experience, how seldom do we find these views
realized! Children, in too many instances, are looked on as anything but
a blessing; they are treated as incumbrances, or worse; and the neglect
in which they are brought up, renders it almost impossible for them,
when they grow older, to know anything properly of moral or social
duties. This result we know, in numerous cases, is not willful, does not
arise from ill intentions on the part of parents, but from want of fixed
plans and principles. There are hundreds of families in this country
whose daily life is nothing better than a daily scramble, where time and
place, from getting up in the morning to going to bed at night, are
regarded as matters of chance. In such homes as these, where the inmates
are willing to do well, but don't know how, a word in season is often
welcome. "Great principles," we are told, "are at the bottom of all
things; but to apply them to daily life, many little rules, precautions,
and insights are needed."
The work of training is, in some degree, lightened by the fact, that
children are very imitative; what they see others do, they will try to
do themselves, and if they see none but good examples, good conduct on
their part may naturally be looked for. Children are keen observers, and
are very ready at drawing conclusions when they see a want of
correspondence between profession and practice, in those who have the
care of them. At the age of seven, the child's brain has reached its
full growth; it seldom becomes larger after that period, and it then
contains the germ of all that the man ever accomplishes. Here is an
additional reason for laying down the precept:--be yourselves what you
wish the children to be. When correction is necessary, let it be
administered in such a way as to make the child refrain from doing wrong
from a desire to do right, not for the sole reason that wrong brings
punishment. All experience teaches us that if a good thing is to be
obtained, it must be by persevering diligence; and of all good things,
the pleasure arising from a well-trained family is one of the greatest.
Parents, or educators, have no right to use their children just as whim
or prejudice may dictate. Children are smaller links in the great social
chain, and bind together in lasting ties many portions which otherwise
would be completely disjointed; their joyousness enlivens many a home,
and their innocence is a powerful check and antidote to much that is
evil. The implicit obedience which is required of them, will always be
given when called forth by a spirit of forbearance, self-sacrifice, and
love:--
"Ere long comes the reward,
And for the cares and toils we have endured,
Repays us joys and pleasures manifold."
If you cherish and honor your own parents, then do you give your
children the most forcible teaching for their duty, _example_. And your
duty to your children requires your example to be good in all things.
How can you expect counsel to virtue to have any effect, if you
constantly contradict it by a bad example? Do not forget, that early
impressions are deep and lasting, and from their infancy let them see
you keep an upright, noble walk in life, then may you hope to see them
follow in your footsteps.
Justice, as a sentiment, is inborn, and no one distinguishes its
niceties more quickly than a child. Therefore in your rewards and
punishments examine carefully every part of their conduct, and judge
calmly, not hastily, and be sure you are just. An unmerited reward will
make a child question your judgment as much as an unmerited punishment.
Guard your temper. Never reprove a child in the heat of passion.
If your sons see that you regard the rules of politeness in your home,
you will find that they treat their mother and sisters with respect and
courtesy, and observe, even in play, the rules of etiquette your example
teaches; but if you are a domestic tyrant, all your elder and stronger
children will strive to act like "father," by ill-treating or neglecting
the younger and weaker ones.
Make them, from the moment they begin to talk, use pure and grammatical
language, avoid slang phrases, and, above all, profanity. You will find
this rule, enforced during childhood, will have more effect than a
library full of books or the most unwearied instruction can accomplish,
after bad habits in conversation have once been formed.
Make them, from early childhood, observe the rules of politeness towards
each other. Let your sons treat your daughters as, when men, you would
have them treat other females, and let your daughters, by gentleness and
love, repay these attentions. You may feel sure that the brothers and
sisters, who are polite one to another, will not err in etiquette when
abroad.
In the home circle may very properly be included the humble portion,
whose onerous duties are too often repaid by harshness and rudeness; I
mean the servants. A true gentleman, while he never allows familiarity
from his servants, will always remember that they are human beings, who
feel kindness or rudeness as keenly as the more favored ones up stairs.
Chesterfield says:--
"There is a certain politeness _due_ to your inferiors, and whoever is
without it, is without good nature. We do not need to compliment our
servants, nor to talk of their doing us the honor, &c., but we ought to
treat them with benevolence and mildness. We are all of the same
species, and no distinction whatever is between us, except that which
arises from fortune. For example, your footman and cook would be your
equals were they as rich as you. Being poor they are obliged to serve
you. Therefore, you must not add to their misfortunes by insulting or
ill-treating them. If your situation is preferable to theirs, be
thankful, without either despising them or being vain of your better
fortune. You must, therefore, treat all your inferiors with affability
and good manners, and not speak to them in a surly tone, nor with harsh
expressions, as if they were of a different species. A good heart never
reminds people of their inferiority, but endeavors to alleviate their
misfortunes, and make them forget them."
"Example," says Mrs. Parkes, "is of the greatest importance to our
servants, particularly those who are young, whose habits are frequently
formed by the first service they enter. With the mild and good, they
become softened and improved, but with the dissipated and violent, are
too often disorderly and vicious. It is, therefore, not among the least
of the duties incumbent on the head of the family, to place in their
view such examples as are worthy their imitation. But these examples,
otherwise praiseworthy, should neither be rendered disagreeable, nor
have their force diminished by any accompaniment of ill humor. Rather by
the happiness and comfort resulting from our conduct towards our
domestics, should they be made sensible of the beauty of virtue. What we
admire, we often strive to imitate, and thus they may be led on to
imitate good principles, and to form regular and virtuous habits."