to the rescue, "and shall do myself the honor of acting as her
champion." With that I spread out her gossamer handkerchief, and
throwing it over the top of my cane, affected to screen the rosy face
beside me. Taking advantage of my _ruse_, my pretty favorite opened her
note, and, partly retreating behind my broad shoulder, soon possessed
herself of its contents.
"There," said she, throwing it into the middle of the table, "you may
all read it and welcome!"
Brown heads and black, sunny curls and chestnut "bands," were
immediately clustered together over the prize, and Fanny, springing
away, like a bird, was, in a moment, perched on an arm of the large
chair in which her father was now ensconced, with her arm around his
neck, and her beaming eyes glancing out from his snowy locks.
"Let Colonel Lunettes see it, you rude creatures!" exclaimed my lively
favorite, from her retreat, and the note was immediately presented to
me. Wiping my glasses with deliberation suitable to the occasion, I
"pressed my hand upon my throbbing heart," and read as follows:
"It will afford Mr. Howard Parkman great pleasure to attend Miss Fanny
Campbell to a Concert to be given by the "Hungarian Family," to-morrow
evening.
"If she will permit him that honor, Mrs. and Miss Parkman, accompanied
by Mr. P., will call for Miss Campbell at half past seven o clock.
"COLEMAN ST.,
"_Tuesday P. M._"
"That's another rival for you, Colonel Lunettes," exclaimed one of the
girls.
"I fear my doom is sealed!" returned the old soldier thus addressed,
with an air of mock resignation. "But who is this formidable youth, Miss
Campbell?"
"A Bostonian, I believe," replied the young lady; "cousin Charley
introduced him to us at Mrs. Gay's ball the other evening, and asked us
to call upon his mother and sister--they are friends of his. He was here
this morning with cousin Charley, but we were out."
"How stylish!" said one of our critical circle, re-examining the elegant
billet of the stranger.
"Quite _au fait_, too, you see, young ladies," I added, "he invites Miss
Fanny to go with a proper _chaperon_ to the concert, as he is so
slightly acquainted with her."
As I limped across the room towards them, I heard my friend say to his
daughter, who still retained her seat, "certainly, unless you prefer to
go with Mr. Blakeman."
"Oh, pa!" protested the sweet girl, "but what excuse shall I make to Mr.
Blakeman?"
"Tell him, in terms, that your father does not permit you to go anywhere,
alone, with a young man with whom he has no acquaintance--Lunettes,
you're not going?" rising as he spoke.
"It is high time--my carriage must be waiting. Miss Fanny, permit me the
privilege of an old friend,"--kissing her glowing cheek--and, as she
skipped out into the hall with her father and me, I whispered--"About
this young Bostonian? Is it all over with him?"
"What, Hal--jealous?" exclaimed her father, laughing--"do you fear the
flight of our gazelle, here?"
"No danger of my eloping! No, indeed! at least with any one
except--_Colonel Lunettes_!" replied the charming little witch, as her
nimble fingers fastened my wrappings.
"Bravo!" cried her father; "that would be glorious! Seventeen and"----
"Eighty-two," interrupted your old uncle; "May and December! But,
happily for me, fair Fanny, _my heart_ can never grow old while I have
the happiness of knowing you."
* * * * *
I hope none of you will ever, even when writing in a foreign language,
fall into the mistake made by a young Pole, with whom I once had a
slight acquaintance. He was paying his addresses to a young lady, and,
while most assiduously making his court to the fair object of his
passion, was temporarily separated from her, by her leaving home on a
pleasure excursion. At the first stopping-place of her party, the lady
found a letter awaiting her, written in the neatest manner, and in
excellent English--which her lover _spoke_ in a _very_ imperfect manner.
It appeared to the recipient of this complimentary effusion, however, at
the first glance, that its contents were not especially relevant to the
occasion of a first _billet-doux_ from her admirer. Reading it more
deliberately, something familiar in the language struck her suddenly,
and after pondering a moment, she turned over the leaves of a new book
which was among the literary stores of our travelling-party, and soon
came to the exact counterpart of passage after passage, as recorded in
the letter of the gallant Pole!
The volume was, I think, "Hannah More's Memoirs," which had probably
been recommended to the young student of our language by his teacher, or
some friend, as containing good _specimens of the epistolary style_!
* * * * *
With the hope that you may all escape being the subjects of such
merriment as was occasioned by the discovery of my fair friend, I remain,
as ever,
Affectionately yours,
HARRY LUNETTES.
LETTER IX.
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
MY DEAR NEPHEWS:
Though accomplishments are a very poor substitute for the more
substantial portions of a thorough education, no one should be so
indifferent to the embellishments of life as wholly to neglect their
cultivation.
With Europeans some attention to this subject always makes part of a
thorough education, but among a _new people_, differing so essentially
from the nations of the Old World in social habits, the leisure and
inclination that induce such a system of early discipline are both still
wanting--speaking generally. It is not the lack of wealth--of that we
have enough--but of a cultivated, discriminating taste, the growth of
time and favoring circumstances, which is not yet diffused among us.
But, though our young men, even of the more favored class, do not enjoy
the carefully-elaborated system of early training, common abroad,
personal effort will produce a result similar in effect, if
well-directed and steadfastly pursued, and the best of all
knowledge--that most beneficial in its influence upon character--is
acquired by unaided individual exertion. Young Americans, above the men
of all other countries, should lack no incentive to add, as occasion may
permit, tasteful polish to the more essential solidity of mental
acquirements.
I know of nothing better calculated to foster refinement and purity of
life than the cultivation of a _Taste_ for the _Fine Arts_. I do not
refer to a _dillettante_ affectation of familiarity with the
technicalities of artistic language, or to fashionable pretension and an
assumption of connoisseurship, but to honest, manly, aesthetical
perceptions, quickened and elevated by familiarity with the true
principles of Art, and by the study of the highest productions of
genius.
Some knowledge of the practice, as well as of the principles of
_drawing_, is a very agreeable and useful accomplishment, and one that
may be acquired with little or no instruction, save that to be obtained
from books.
Among the advantages collaterally arising from familiarity with this
art, is the increased quickness and enjoyment it lends to a _discernment
of the beautiful_ in nature, both in its minute manifestations and its
grand developments. A fondness for _sketching_ leads, also, to a
partiality for rural excursions, and for the physical sciences; and all
those tastes where the main purposes of life permit their indulgence,
serve to elevate, refine, and expand the higher faculties, to give them
habitual dominion over the propensities and to restrain sensuous
enjoyments within their legitimate limits.
_A Taste for Music_ must, of course, be ranked among the elegances of
social life, but it should not be forgotten that a _practical knowledge_
of any one branch of this Art has no direct effect to enlarge the mind,
like that of Painting, for instance. It is only a sensuous pleasure,
though a refined one, and is, as I have had frequent occasion to remark,
too frequently permitted to engross both time and faculties that should
properly be, in part, at least, more diffusively employed. Musical
skill, though a pleasant acquirement, is not a sufficient substitute for
an acquaintance with general Literature and Art; nor will its most
exquisite exhibitions always furnish an equivalent for intellectual
pleasures, whether of a personal or social nature.
_Dancing_ should be early learned, not only because, like musical
knowledge, it is a source of social and domestic enjoyment, but as
materially assisting in the acquirement of an easy and graceful carriage
and manner. It is a good antidote, too, to _mauvaise honte_, and almost
essential among the minor accomplishments of a man of the world.
_Riding_ and _Driving_ should never be neglected by those who possess
the means of becoming familiar with them. Convenience, health and
pleasure combine to recommend both. No indulgence of the _pride of
skill_, however, should be permitted to exalt these accessories of a
polite education into the main business of life, as I believe I have
before reminded you.
The _broadsword exercise_, _pistol-shooting_, _athletic sports and
games_, _sporting_, _gymnastic exercises_, etc., etc., may be ranked
among the minor manly accomplishments with which it is desirable to be
familiar.
Of no small importance, and of no insignificant rank as an
accomplishment, is a _ready and graceful elocution_. Possessed by
professional men, its value can scarcely be overrated, and no young man,
whatever his aims in life, should esteem it unworthy of attention, since
private as well as public life afford constant occasion for its
exercise. To read _intelligibly_, _audibly_, and _agreeably_, to speak
with taste and elegance, to address an audience--whether a mass
assemblage of the sovereign people, or the servants of the people, in
Congress assembled, or an intelligent audience gathered for intellectual
instruction and enjoyment, each require careful and persevering
practice, critical discrimination and disciplined taste. And what young
American--with that control of circumstances which especially
distinguishes us from all other peoples, with the high aspirations and
purposes to which all are equally entitled--shall say that he will not
have the most urgent occasion for, and derive high advantage from the
acquisition of the _Art of Elocution_? But, apart from considerations of
utility, correct speaking and writing are indispensable requisites to
the privileges of good society, and elegant polish in this respect is
the desirable result and certain indication of natural refinement.
I will only add that elocutionary skill always affords the possessor the
means of promoting social and domestic enjoyment, and that the finest
sentiments and the most eloquent language lose half their proper effect
when uttered in a mumbling or muttering tone, as well as in too loud or
too low a voice.
Closely allied to the accomplishment of which we have been speaking, is
that of _Conversational ease and elegance_, an art in which all other
nations are excelled by the French, and in which we, perhaps, most
successfully emulate them.
Unfortunately for our social advancement in this respect,
"_The well of English undefiled_"
is not the only source from which the _vehicle of thought_ is derived.
The use of slang phrases, of crack words, even among the better educated
classes of society--and that in writing as well as in conversation--is
becoming noticeably prevalent. Nothing can be more detrimental to the
advancement of those who desire to acquire colloquial polish than the
habit of using this inelegant language, and there is nothing into which
one may glide more insensibly, when it becomes familiar from
association.
You will, perhaps, say that the amusement afforded to others by the
occasional adoption of these mirth-provoking vulgarisms affords an
apology for their use; and that would be a legitimate excuse, did the
matter end there. But who can hope successfully to establish the line of
demarcation that shall separate the legitimate sphere of their
applicability from that in which they cannot properly claim a place? We
know how much we are all under the dominion of _habit_ in regard to the
artificial observances of life, and that once established, any practice
in which we indulge ourselves may manifest itself unconsciously to us.
Hence, then, it is no more safe to acquire the habit of interlarding our
discourse with inelegances of expression, ungrammatical language,
Yankeeisms, _localisms_ (to coin a word if it be not one, more
expressive here than _provincialisms_) or vulgarisms of any kind, than
to permit ourselves the perpetration of other solecisms in
good-breeding, with the protection only of a _mental limitation_ to
their undue encroachment upon our claims to refined associations.
There is, therefore, no safe rule, except that dictating the unvarying
adoption of the _purest and most expressive idiomatic English_ we can
command. I remember to have heard it said of a celebrated
conversationist, whom I knew in my younger days, that he not only always
used a _good_ word to express his meaning, but the _very best_ word
afforded by our language.
The habit of _thinking clearly_ might naturally be supposed to produce
the power of conveying ideas to others with distinctness, were not the
impression controverted by much evidence to the contrary. I must
believe, however, that the difference between persons, in this respect,
arises more frequently from want of attention to the subject, than from
all other causes combined. I know of no other way of sufficiently
explaining the awkward, slipshod, unsatisfactory mode of talking so
common even among educated people. Were we accustomed to regarding
conversational pleasures as among the highest enjoyments of existence,
and of making them a part of our daily life--as the French of all ranks
do--a vast difference would exist between what is, and what might be.
With what intensity of interest, with what vivacity of manner do the
polite and cultivated French _talk_! The _salons_ of the leaders of
_ton_ in Paris are nightly filled with the literati, the artists, the
soldiers and statesmen concentered in that brilliant capitol. And they
assemble not to eat, not even to dance, to the exclusion of all other
gratifications, but to _talk_--to exchange ideas upon topics and
incidents of passing interest--to receive and to communicate
instruction, as well as enjoyment. And even the common people--whether
eating their frugal evening repast at a little table placed in the
street, or seated in groups in the garden of the Tuileries--how they
talk! with what _abandon_--to use their own word--with what geniality,
with what sprightliness! The very children, sporting like so many birds
of gorgeous plumage, and musical tones, in the public gardens and
promenades, prattle of matters interesting to them, with a graceful
vivacity nowhere else to be seen. All classes give _themselves up to
it--take time for it_, as one of the necessities of daily life! But I
should apologize for this digression.
The advantage of _habitual practice_, then, cannot be too highly
commended to those who would acquire colloquial skill. There is, also,
no better mode of fastening knowledge in the mind than by accustoming
one's self to clothing ideas in spoken language, and the mere attempt to
do so, gives distinctness to thought.
But while fluency and ease are the results of practice, the
_embellishments_ of _conversation_ require careful culture. Wit, Humor,
Repartee, though to some extent natural gifts, may undoubtedly be
improved, if not attained, by artificial training.
It is said that Sheridan, one of the most celebrated wits and
conversationists of his day, prepared himself for convivial occasions,
like an intellectual gladiator, ready to enter the lists in a valiant
struggle for supremacy. He may be said to have made Conversation a
_Profession_, to which he gave his whole attention, as did the
celebrated youth who exceeded all his fellows in the tie of his
neck-cloth, to that mysterious art!
Sheridan's practice was, to make brief notes, before going into society,
of appropriate topics and witticisms for each occasion, upon which he
relied for sustaining his reputation as a boon companion and
accomplished talker. There is a good story told of his being
exceedingly nonplussed, on some important occasion, by having his
memoranda purloined by a friend, who, while waiting to accompany the wit
to an entertainment to which both were invited, stole his thunder from
his dressing-table, where it had been placed in readiness. The unlucky
literary Boanerges was as powerless as Jupiter robbed of his bolts!
But if one would not desire preparation as elaborately artificial as
that ascribed to this spoiled fondling of English aristocracy, there
seems to be a propriety in making some mental, as well as external
arrangements before entering society. Thus, passingly to reflect, while
making one's toilet for such an occasion, upon the general character of
the company one is to meet, and upon the subjects most appropriate for
conversation with those with whom one will probably be individually
associated, may not be amiss. Nor will it be unwise to recall such
reminiscences of personal adventures, popular intelligence, etc., as the
day may have furnished.
Happily, however, for those who distrust their power to surprise by
erudition, or delight by wit, _good-sense_, accompanied by _good-humor_
and _courtesy_, render their possessors the most enduringly agreeable of
social and domestic companions. The _favorites of society_ are usually
those who wound no one's self-love, either by imposing upon others a
painful sense of inferiority, or by rudeness, impertinence, or
assumption. Few have sufficient magnanimity to _forgive superiority_,
but good-nature and politeness need no excuse with any.
"Oh, let the ungentle spirit learn from hence,
_A small unkindness is a great offence_!
* * * * *
_All may shun the guilt of giving pain._"
Wit, however racy, should never find a place in conversation when
pointed at the expense of another, and, indeed, _personalities_, even
when free from condemnation on this score, are usually in bad taste.
People of sensibility and refinement are much more likely to be annoyed
than gratified by being made the auditors of conversation, even when
politely intended, which brings them into especial notice.
Hence, nothing requires more delicacy and tact than the _language of
compliment_, which should always be carefully distinguished from that of
mere flattery. The one is the expression of well-bred courtesy, the
other is oppressive and embarrassing to all rightly constituted persons,
and discreditable to the taste by which it is dictated.
As a general rule, it is better to talk of things than of persons, and
William Penn's rule to "_say nothing of others, unless you can say
something good of them_," should have no exception. Let nothing tempt
you into the habit of indulging in gossip, scandal, and unmanly
puerility--not even a good-natured desire to assimilate yourself to the
companionship of temporary associates. In this respect, as in many
others,
"Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,
As to be hated, needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace."
No conscientiously-enlightened man can reflect for a moment upon the
heinousness of _slander_, or indeed of evil speaking when not allied
with falsehood, without abhorrence; and yet, how few can assume that, in
Heaven's High Chancery, there is no such dark record against them.
Permit me to remind you that a mere difference of _intonation_ or of
_emphasis_, in repeating conversational remarks, will sometimes suffice
to convey a wholly erroneous impression to others, and that a mysterious
glance, a nod, a shrug, a smile, may be made equivalent to the "offense
of _spoken words_."
I have recommended the adoption of good, pure English as the most
unexceptionable colloquial coin. Recurring to this point, let me express
the opinion that the most pretentious, or erudite language, is not
always that best adapted to the purposes of practical life. No one is
bound to speak ungrammatically or incorrectly, even when communicating
with the illiterate, but the _simplest_ phraseology, as well as the most
laconic, is often the most appropriate and expressive, under such
circumstances.
Companionship with the educated justifies the use, without justly
incurring the charge of _pedantry_, of every mode of conveying ideas
that we are assured is _intelligible_ to them. Thus classical scholars
may use the learned languages, if they will, in mutual intercourse; and
the popular and familiar words and phrases we have borrowed from the
French, are often a convenient resource, under similar circumstances.
All this is best regulated by good-breeding and taste. It is always
desirable to err on the safe side, where there is a possibility of
misapprehension, or of incurring the imputation of affectation, or of a
love of display.
This last consideration, by the way, affords an additional incentive to
the selection of such companionship as is best suited to elicit the
exercise of conversational grace, and stimulate the mental cultivation
upon which it must be based. In addition to this advantage, is that thus
afforded of familiarizing one's self with the usages of those who may be
regarded as _models_ for the inexperienced. The modesty so becoming in
the young, will inspire a wish to _listen_ rather than talk; but--though
to be an attentive and interested listener is one of the most agreeable
and expressive of compliments--remember that _practice_, if judiciously
directed, cannot be too soon attempted, to secure this desirable
attainment.
These remarks, I am fully aware, have been desultory and digressive, but
they were designed to be rather suggestive than satisfactory; and
experimental knowledge will, I trust, more than compensate you for my
conscious deficiencies. I will add only a general remark or two, and
then no longer tax your patience.
The ladies--dear creatures!--are most prone, it must be admitted, to the
use of _exaggerated_ language, in conversation; with them the
superlative form of the adjective will alone suffice for the full
expression of feeling or opinion. But this peculiarity is by no means
confined to those in whom enthusiasm and its natural expression are most
becoming. The sterner sex are far from being exempt from this habit,
which often involves _looseness of thought_, _inaccuracy of statement_,
or _positive untruthfulness_. It is desirable, as _a point of ethics_,
to practise care in this regard. Using the strongest forms of expression
on ordinary occasions, leaves one no _reserved corps_ of language for
those requiring unusual impressiveness. _Accuracy_ is the great
essential, many times, in the choice of language. A clear idea, clearly
and unequivocally expressed, is indicative of a good and
well-disciplined intellect, each, as I have before intimated, the result
of _attention_ and _practice_.