Are nothing less than little morals. They are the shadows of virtues,
if not virtues themselves. 'A beautiful behaviour is better than a
beautiful form; it gives a higher pleasure than statues and pictures;
it is the finest of the fine arts.' How well it is then that no
one class has a monopoly in this 'finest of fine arts;' that while
favourable circumstances undoubtedly do render good manners more common
among persons moving in higher rather than in lower spheres, there
should nevertheless be no positive hindrance to the poorest classes
practising good manners towards each other. For what is a good manner?
It is the art of putting our associates at their ease. Whoever makes
the fewest persons uncomfortable, is the best-mannered man in a room.
Vanity, ill-nature, want of sympathy, want of sense--these are the
chief sources from which bad manners spring. Nor can we imagine an
incident in which a man could be at a loss as to what to say or do in
company, if he were always considerate for the feelings of others,
forgot himself, and did not lose his head or leave his common-sense
at home. Such a one may not have studied etiquette, he may be chaotic
rather than be in 'good form,' as the slang expression is; and yet
because his head and heart are sound, he will speak and act as becomes
a gentleman. On the other hand, a very pedant in form and bigot in
ceremonies may be nothing better than the 'mildest-mannered man that
ever cut a throat.' As we can be wise without learning, so it is quite
possible to be well-mannered with little or no knowledge of those rules
and forms which are at best only a substitute for common-sense, and
which cannot be considered essential to good manners, inasmuch as they
vary in every country, and even in the same country change about with
the weather-cock of fashion. Vanity renders people too self-conscious
to have good manners, for if we are always thinking of the impression
we are making, we cannot give enough attention to the feelings and
conversation of others. Without _trying_ to be natural--an effort that
would make us most artificial--we must be natural by forgetting self in
the desire to please others. Elderly unmarried ladies, students, and
those who lead lonely lives generally, not unfrequently acquire awkward
manners, the result of self-conscious sensitiveness.
Shyness was a source of misery to the late Archbishop Whately. When
at Oxford, his white rough coat and white hat obtained for him the
sobriquet of 'The White Bear;' and his manners, according to his own
account of himself, corresponded with the appellation. He was directed,
by way of remedy, to copy the example of the best-mannered men he met
in society; but the attempt to do this only increased his shyness. He
found that he was all the while thinking of himself rather than of
others; whereas thinking of others rather than of one's self is the
essence of politeness. Finding that he was making no progress, he said
to himself: 'I have tried my very utmost, and find that I must be as
awkward as a bear all my life, in spite of it. I will endeavour to
think about it as little as a bear, and make up my mind to endure what
can't be cured.' In thus endeavouring to shake off all consciousness
as to manner, he says: 'I succeeded beyond my expectations; for I not
only got rid of the personal suffering of shyness, but also of most of
those faults of manner which consciousness produces; and acquired at
once an easy and natural manner--careless indeed in the extreme, from
its originating in a stern defiance of opinion, which I had convinced
myself must be ever against me; rough and awkward, for smoothness and
grace are quite out of my way, and of course tutorially pedantic; but
unconscious, and therefore giving expression to that good-will towards
men which I really feel; and these I believe are the main points.'
Vanity again is the source of that boasting self-assertion which is
the bane of manners. He is an ill-mannered man who is always loud in
the praises of himself and of his children; who boasting of his rank,
of his business, of achievements in his calling, looks down upon lower
orders of people; who cannot refrain from having his joke at the
expense of another's character, whose smart thing must come out because
he has not the gentlemanly feeling that suggests to us
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow to the meanest thing that lives.
The habit of saying rude things, of running people down, springs not
so much from ill-nature as from that vanity that would rather lose a
friend than a joke. On this point Dr Johnson once remarked: 'Sir, a
man has no more right to _say_ an uncivil thing than to _act_ one--no
more right to say a rude thing to another than to knock him down.' The
vain egotism that disregards others is shewn in various unpolite ways;
as, for instance, by neglect of propriety in dress, by the absence of
cleanliness, or by indulging in repulsive habits. Some think themselves
so well-born, so clever, or so rich, as to be above caring what others
say and think of them. It is said that the ancient kings of Egypt used
to commence speeches to their subjects with the formula, 'By the
head of Pharaoh, ye are all swine!' We need not wonder that those who
take this swine-theory view of their neighbours should be careless of
setting their tastes and feelings at defiance. Contrast such puppyism
with the conduct of David Ancillon, a famous Huguenot preacher, one of
whose motives for studying his sermons with the greatest care was 'that
it was shewing too little esteem for the public to take no pains in
preparation, and that a man who should appear on a ceremonial day in
his night-cap and dressing-gown could not commit a greater breach of
civility.'
'Spite and ill-nature,' it has been said, 'are among the most expensive
luxuries of life;' and this is true, for none of us can afford to
surround himself with the host of enemies we are sure to make if, when
young, we allow ill-nature to produce in us unmannerly habits. Good
manners, like good words, cost nothing, and are worth everything. What
advantage, for instance, did the book-seller on whom Dr Johnson once
called to solicit employment get from his brutal reply: 'Go buy a
porter's knot and carry trunks?' The surly natures of such men prevent
them from ever entertaining angels unawares.
It is want of sympathy, however, much more than a bad nature that
produces the ill-mannered hardness of character so well described by
Sydney Smith: 'Hardness is a want of minute attention to the feelings
of others. It does not proceed from malignity or carelessness of
inflicting pain, but from a want of delicate perception of those
little things by which pleasure is conferred or pain excited. A hard
person thinks he has done enough if he does not speak ill of your
relations, your children, or your country; and then, with the greatest
good-humour and volubility, and with a total inattention to your
individual state and position, gallops over a thousand fine feelings,
and leaves in every step the mark of his hoofs upon your heart. Analyse
the conversation of a well-bred man who is clear of the besetting sin
of hardness; it is a perpetual homage of polite good-nature. In the
meantime the gentleman on the other side of you (a highly moral and
respectable man) has been crushing little sensibilities, and violating
little proprieties, and overlooking little discriminations; and without
violating anything which can be called a _rule_, or committing what
can be denominated a _fault_, has displeased and dispirited you, from
wanting that fine vision which sees little things, and that delicate
touch which handles them, and that fine sympathy which this superior
moral organisation always bestows.'
Of course we must not judge people too much by external manner, for
many a man has nothing of the bear about him but his skin. Nevertheless
as we cannot expect people in general to take time to see whether we
are what we seem to be, it is foolish to roll ourselves into a prickly
ball on the approach of strangers. If we do so, we cannot wonder at
their exclaiming: 'A rough Christian!' as the dog said of the hedgehog.
It is difficult to see how the 'natural-born fool'--to use an American
expression--can ever hope to become well mannered, for without good
sense, or rather tact, a man must continually make a fool of himself
in society. Why are women as a rule better mannered than men? Because
their greater sympathy and power of quicker intuition give to them
finer tact. Nor is talent which knows what to do of much use, if the
tact he wanting which should enable us to see how to do it. He who has
talent without tact is like the millionaire who never has a penny of
ready-money about him. Mr Smiles illustrates the difference between a
man of quick tact and of no tact whatever by an interview which he says
once took place between Lord Palmerston and Mr Behnes the sculptor.
At the last sitting which Lord Palmerston gave him, Behnes opened the
conversation with: 'Any news, my lord, from France? How do we stand
with Louis Napoleon?' The Foreign Secretary raised his eyebrows for an
instant, and quietly replied: 'Really, Mr Behnes, I don't know; I have
not seen the newspapers!' Behnes, with much talent, was one of the many
men who entirely missed their way in life through want of tact.
Nowhere is there room for the display of good manners so much as in
conversation. Well-mannered people do not talk too much. Remembering
that the first syllable of the word conversation is _con_ (with), that
it means talking with another, they abstain from lecturing, and are as
ready to listen as to be heard. They are neither impatient to interrupt
others nor uneasy when interrupted themselves. Knowing that their
anecdote or sharp reply will keep, or need not find utterance at all,
they give full attention to their companion, and do not by their looks
vote him a bore, or at least an interruption to their own much better
remarks. But beside the rule, that we should not be impatient to get in
our word, that a few brilliant flashes of _silence_ should occur in our
conversation, another rule is, not to take for our theme--ourselves.
We must remember that, as a rule, we and our concerns can be of no
more importance to other men than they and their concerns are to us.
Why then should we go over the annals of our lives generally and of
our diseases in particular to comparative strangers; why review the
hardships we have suffered in money matters, in love, at law, in our
profession, or loudly boast of successes in each of these departments?
Why, lastly, should the pride that apes humility induce us to fish for
compliments by talking _ad nauseam_ of our faults? We need not say that
low gossip or scandal-bearing is quite incompatible with good manners.
'The occasions of silence,' says Bishop Butler, 'are obvious--namely
when a man has nothing to say, or nothing but what is better unsaid;
better either in regard to some particular persons he is present with,
or from its being an interruption to conversation of a more agreeable
kind; or better, lastly, with regard to himself.'
A well-mannered man is courteous to all sorts and conditions of men. He
is respectful to his inferiors as well as to his equals and superiors.
Honouring the image of God in every man, his good manners are not
reserved for the few who can pay for them, or who make themselves
feared. Like the gentle summer air, his civility plays round all alike.
'The love and admiration,' says Canon Kingsley, 'which that truly brave
and loving man Sir Sidney Smith won from every one, rich and poor,
with whom he came in contact, seems to have arisen from the one fact,
that without, perhaps, having any such conscious intention, he treated
rich and poor, his own servants, and the noblemen his guests, alike,
and alike courteously, considerately, cheerfully, affectionately--so
leaving a blessing and reaping a blessing wherever he went.' Certainly
the working-classes of England, however respectful they may be to
those whom--often for interested reasons--they call 'their betters,'
are far from being sufficiently polite to each other. Why should not
British labourers when they meet take off their hats to each other, and
courteously ask after Mrs Hardwork and family? There is not a moment of
their lives the enjoyment of which might not be enhanced by kindliness
of this sort--in the workshop, in the street, or at home.
We know that extremes meet, and there is an over-civility that becomes
less than civil, because it forces people to act contrary to their
inclinations. Well-mannered people consult the wishes of others rather
than their own. They do not proceed in a tyrannical manner to prescribe
what their friends shall eat and drink, nor do they put them in the
awkward position of having to answer a thousand apologies for their
entertainment. When guests refuse an offered civility, we ought not
to press it. When they desire to leave our house, it is really bad
manners to lock the stable-door, hide their hats, and have recourse to
similar artifices to prevent their doing so. As, however, this zeal of
hospitality without knowledge is a good fault, and one not too common,
there is perhaps no need to say more about it. It leans to virtue's
side.
We must not confound etiquette with good manners, for the arbitrary
rules of the former are very often absurd, and differ in various
ages and countries; whereas good manners, founded as they are on
common-sense, are always and everywhere the same. It would be invidious
to illustrate this assertion from the society of our own country, so
we shall import a _reductio ad absurdum_ of etiquette from Japan. In
_The Gentle Life_, the following account is given by a resident at the
Japanese court. 'When one courtier was insulted by another, he who bore
the insult turned round to the insulter, and quietly uncovering the
stomach, ripped himself open. The aggressor, by an inexorable law of
etiquette, was bound to follow the lead, and so the two die. The most
heart-rending look ever witnessed was one given by a Japanese, who,
having been insulted by an American, carried out the rule, expecting
his opponent to follow suit. But the Yankee would do nothing of the
sort; and the Japanese expired in agonies--not from the torture of
his wound, but from being a sacrifice to so foolish and underbred a
fellow--whilst the American looked at him in a maze of wonder.' If
it were not so sad, we might laugh at such accounts of self-torture,
as well as at people of our own acquaintance who, worshipping
conventionality, are ever on the rack about 'the right thing to do,'
about 'good form.'
But this sort of folly should not blind us to the value of good manners
as distinguished from etiquette.
Manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of noble nature and of loyal mind.
Were it not for the oil of civility, how could the wheels of society
continue to work? Money, talent, rank, these are keys that turn some
locks; but kindness or a sympathetic manner is a master-key that can
open all. If 'virtue itself offends when coupled with a forbidding
manner,' how great must be the power of winning manners, such as steer
between bluntness and plain-dealing, between giving merited praise and
flattery.
Men succeed in their professions quite as much by complaisance
and kindliness of manner as by talent. Demosthenes, in giving his
well-known advice to an orator--that eloquence consisted in three
things, the first 'action,' the second 'action,' and the third
'action'--is supposed to have intended manner only. A telling preacher
in his opening remarks gains the good-will of his hearers, and makes
them feel both that he has something to say and that he can say
it--by his manner. The successful medical man on entering a sick-room
inspires into his patients belief in himself, and that hope which is
so favourable to longevity--by his manner. Considering that jurymen
are scarcely personifications of pure reason unmixed with passion or
prejudice, a barrister cannot afford to neglect manner if he would
bring twelve men one after another to his way of thinking. Again, has
the business man any stock-in-trade that pays him better than a good
address? And as regards the 'survival of the fittest' in tournaments
for a lady's hand, is it not a 'natural selection' when the old
motto 'Manners makyth man' decides the contest? At least Wilkes, the
best-mannered but ugliest man of his day, thought so. 'I am,' he said,
'the ugliest man in the three kingdoms; but if you give me a quarter
of an hour's start, I will gain the love of any woman before the
handsomest.'
If kindliness of disposition be the essence of good manners, our
subject is seen at once to shade off into the great one of Christianity
itself. It is the heart that makes both the true gentleman and
the great theologian. The apostle Paul (see speech delivered on
Mars' Hill) always endeavoured to conciliate his audience when he
commenced addressing them. And his letters, as well as those of his
fellow-apostles, are full of sympathy and consideration for every one's
feelings, because he had learned from Him whose sympathy extended to
even the greatest of sinners.