SALUTATIONS.
The salutation, says a French writer, is the touchstone of good
breeding. According to circumstances, it should be respectful, cordial,
civil, affectionate or familiar:—an inclination of the head, a gesture
with the hand, the touching or doffing of the hat.
If you remove your hat you need not at the same time bend the dorsal
vertebræ of your body, unless you wish to be very reverential, as in
saluting a bishop.
It is a mark of high breeding not to speak to a lady in the street,
until you perceive that she has noticed you by an inclination of the
head.
Some ladies _courtesy_ in the street, a movement not gracefully
consistent with locomotion. They should always _bow._
If an individual of the lowest rank, or without any rank at all, takes
off his hat to you, you should do the same in return. A bow, says La
Fontaine, is a note drawn at sight. If you acknowledge it, you must pay
the full amount. The two best-bred men in England, Charles the Second
and George the Fourth, never failed to take off their hats to the
meanest of their subjects.
Avoid condescending bows to your friends and equals. If you meet a rich
parvenu, whose consequence you wish to reprove, you may salute him in a
very patronizing manner: or else, in acknowledging his bow, look
somewhat surprised and say, “Mister—eh—eh?”
If you have remarkably fine teeth, you may smile affectionately upon
the bowee, without speaking.
In passing ladies of rank, whom you meet in society, bow, but do not
speak.
If you have anything to say to any one in the street, especially a
lady, however intimate you may be, do not stop the person, but turn
round and walk in company; you can take leave at the end of the street.
If there is any one of your acquaintance, with whom you have a
difference, do not avoid looking at him, unless from the nature of
things the quarrel is necessarily for life. It is almost always better
to bow with cold civility, though without speaking.
As a general rule never _cut_ any one in the street. Even political and
steamboat acquaintances should be noticed by the slightest movement in
the world. If they presume to converse with you, or stop you to
introduce their companion, it is then time to use your eye-glass, and
say, “I never knew you.”
If you address a lady in the open air, you remain uncovered until she
has desired you _twice_ to put on your hat. In general, if you are in
any place where _etiquette_ requires you to remain uncovered or
standing, and a lady, or one much your superior, requests you to be
covered or to sit, you may how off the command. If it is repeated, you
should comply. You thereby pay the person a marked, but delicate,
compliment, by allowing their will to be superior to the general
obligations of etiquette.
When two Americans, who “have not been introduced,” meet in some public
place, as in a theatre, a stagecoach, or a steamboat, they will sit for
an hour staring in one another’s faces, but without a word of
conversation. This form of unpoliteness has been adopted from the
English, and it is as little worthy of imitation as the form of their
government. Good sense and convenience are the foundations of good
breeding; and it is assuredly vastly more reasonable and more agreeable
to enjoy a passing gratification, when no sequent evil is to be
apprehended, than to be rendered uncomfortable by an ill-founded pride.
It is therefore better to carry on an easy and civil conversation. A
snuff-box, or some polite accommodation rendered, may serve for an
opening. Talk only about generalities,—the play, the roads, the
weather. Avoid speaking of persons or politics, for, if the individual
is of the opposite party to yourself, you will be engaged in a
controversy: if he holds the same opinions, you will be overwhelmed
with a flood of vulgar intelligence, which may soil your mind. Be
reservedly civil while the colloquy lasts, and let the acquaintance
cease with the occasion.
When you are introduced to a gentleman do not give your hand, but
merely bow with politeness: and if you have requested the introduction,
or know the person by reputation, you may make a speech. I am aware
that high authority might easily be found in this country to sanction
the custom of giving the hand upon a first meeting, but it is
undoubtedly a solecism in manners. The habit has been adopted by us,
with some improvement for the worse, from France. When two Frenchmen
are presented to one another, each _presses_ the other’s hand with
delicate affection. The English, however, never do so: and the
practice, if abstractly correct, is altogether inconsistent with the
caution of manner which is characteristic of their nation and our own.
If we are to follow the French, in shaking hands with one whom we have
never before seen, we should certainly imitate them also in kissing our
_intimate_ male acquaintances. If, however, you ought only to bow to a
new acquaintance, you surely should do more to old ones. If you meet an
intimate friend fifty times in a morning, give your hand every time,—an
observance of propriety, which, though worthy of universal adoption, is
in this country only followed by the purists in politeness. The
requisitions of etiquette, if they should be obeyed at all, should be
obeyed fully. This decent formality prevents acquaintance from being
too distant, while, at the same time, it preserves the “familiar” from
becoming “vulgar.” They may be little things, but
“These little things are great to little men.”
Goldsmith.