The old chronicler says, “Manners maketh man.” “Manners are not the
character, but they are the dress of character,” adds a modern writer.
Manners are not the pure gold of the mind, but they set the mint stamp
upon the crude ore and fit it for circulation, and few there be who may
dare to set aside their valuation. To genius only is this privilege
granted, and genius is exceeding rare.
It should be remembered that more people can give the list of Dr.
Samuel Johnson’s sins against good manners than can quote from his
“Rasselas” and “Rambler,” while there will always be more who can
descant upon the selfish, tyrannical ill-breeding of Thomas Carlyle
than can estimate the value and immensity of his literary labors.
The essence of all etiquette will be found in that Golden Rule from
Holy Writ that enjoins upon us to “do unto others as we would that they
should do unto us,” and whereon Lord Chesterfield based his maxim for
the cultivation of manners:
“Observe carefully what pleases or displeases you in others, and be
persuaded that, in general, the same things will please or displease
them in you.”
The social code, even in its smallest particulars, is the outgrowth of
a kindly regard for the feelings of others, even in the little things
of life, and a kindly sympathy for all that interests your companions.
“Be hospitable toward the ideas of others,” says Dr. George Ripley,
“Some people,” he asserts, “only half listen to you, because they are
considering, even while you speak, with what wealth of wit they will
reply.” Such people may be brilliant, but they can never be agreeable.
You feel that they are impatient to have their own turn come, and have
none of the gentle receptiveness so pleasing to our own ego that rebels
against their egotism.