conversation, to do so in polite language, and never to permit the
certainty of being in the right to induce a dictatoral or assuming
manner. When only a difference of opinion or of taste is involved, young
persons, particularly, should scrupulously abstain from any appearance
of obstinacy, or self-sufficiency, and defend their impressions, if at
all, with a courteous deference to others. Usually, nothing is gained by
argument in general society. No one is convinced, because no one wishes
to be, and many persons, even when 'convinced, will argue still,'
because unwilling, from wounded self-love, to admit it. Much acrimony of
feeling is engendered in this way--pertinacity often causing an
unpleasant conclusion to what was begun in entire good-feeling. No one
is bound to renounce a claim to his individual rights in this respect,
but modesty and courtesy will never sit ill upon the young, while
steadfastly defending even a point of principle. "Never," said Mr.
Madison, in an admirable letter of advice to a nephew, "_never forget
that, precisely in proportion as you differ from others in opinion, they
differ with you_." Let me add, that they who are honestly seeking
knowledge and truth, will carefully review and re-weigh opinions,
tastes, and principles in regard to which they find themselves differing
essentially with those whom age, experience, and learning render their
admitted superiors.
And if contradiction and opinionativeness are inadmissible in good
society, at least equal taste and tact are required in conveying
information to others. Some graceful phrase, some self-renouncing
admission or explanation, which may secure you from the envy or dislike
that wounded vanity might otherwise engender, should not be forgotten
when circumstance or education give you an advantage over others in the
intercourse of domestic or social life.
"As in smooth oil the razor best is whet,
So wit is by politeness sharpest set;
Their want of edge from their offense is seen,
Both pain us least when exquisitely keen,
_The fame men give is for the joy they find_!"
It is usually in bad taste to talk of one's self in general society.
Humility of language, in this respect, may easily be interpreted into
insincerity, and it is at least equally difficult, on the other hand, to
avoid the imputation of egotism. Frankness with those to whom you are
bound by the ties of friendship, will, many times, be the best proof you
can give of the sincerity of your confidence and regard, but this will
in no degree interfere with a certain _self-abnegation_ in ordinary
social intercourse. Politeness may dictate our being listened to with a
semblance of interest, when our own health, affairs, adventures, or
misfortunes are the subject of detailed discourse on our part, but the
sympathy of the world is not easily enkindled, and pity is often mingled
with contempt. People go into society to be amused, not to have their
courtesy taxed by appeals to sensibilities upon which others have no
claim. Carlyle has well said, "_Silently swallow the chagrins of your
position; every position has them_." And it is so; but one's "private
griefs" are not lessened by exposure, nor made more endurable by being
constantly the theme, either of one's thoughts or conversation. Let me
add that their legitimate use is to teach us a ready sympathy with the
sorrows and trials of others, rather than a hardened self-engrossment.
While you endeavor, therefore, to
"Conceal yoursel' as weel's ye can
Frae critical dissection,"
seek to excel in personal agreeability, not for the sake of superiority
so much as to secure the means of giving pleasure to others, and of
entitling yourself to the favorable regard of those whose society it is
desirable to enjoy. Even the readiest admirers of wit may weary of the
very brilliancy of its flashes, if the coruscations too constantly
recur, as the eye tires of sheet-lightning, often repeated; but who will
weary of geniality, amiability, and
"Good breeding, the blossom of good sense,"
any sooner than will the eye of the lambent light of fair Diana?
No single characteristic of conversation, perhaps, so universally
commends the possessor to the favor of society, as _cheerfulness_. "_A
laugh_," said an eminent observer of society, "_is the best vocal music;
it is a glee in which everybody can take part!_" I remember, once, being
for some weeks in a hotel with a number of invalids, one of whom, though
a constant sufferer, always met me with a pleasant smile, and uttered
his passing salutations in a voice cheery as a hunter's horn. Really,
his simple "Good morning, Colonel Lunettes," was so replete with
good-humor, courtesy, and cheerfulness, as to do one good like a
cordial. It so impressed me that, at length, I responded, "Good morning,
_cheerful sir_,--I believe you never fail to greet your friends in a
manner that gives them pleasure." His pleasant smile grew pleasanter,
and his bright eye brighter, as he replied--"I always make _a principle_
of speaking cheerfully to the sick, especially--they, of all others, are
most susceptible to outward impressions." "There is a world of
philosophy, as well as of humanity, in what you say," returned I, "and I
can personally testify to the good effects of your kindly habit."
But it is not alone the sick, the sad, or the sensitive who hail a
cheerful companion with delight--these _Human Sunbeams_ bring warmth and
gladness to all--even the least susceptible feel the effects of their
genial presence, almost unconsciously, and frequently seek and enjoy
their conversation when even elegance and erudition would fail of
attraction.
The same tact and self-respect that will preserve you from exhibitions
of vanity and egotism, will dictate discrimination in the selection of
topics of conversation, bearing upon matters of taste and sentiment, as
well as of opinion and principle.--All affectation or assumption of
superiority in this respect is offensive and worse than useless. Those
with whom you have mental affinities will understand and appreciate you;
but beware, especially if sensitively constituted, how you expose your
sensibilities to the ridicule, or your principles to the professed
distrust of those with whom, for any reason, you cannot measure
colloquial weapons upon entirely equal terms.
On the contrary, again, no well-bred man ever rudely assails either the
predilections or the principles of others in general society. This is no
more the proper arena for intellectual conflicts than for political
sparring, or theological disputes. Whatever tends to disturb the general
harmony of a circle, or to give pain to any one present, is
inexcusable, however truthful and important in the abstract, however
wise or witty in itself considered, may be observations tending to
either or both results.
This brings me to dwelling a moment upon a kindred point--the
discourtesy sometimes exhibited by young men towards ladies and
clergymen, in the use of equivocal language, and the introduction of
exceptionable subjects in their hearing. Anything that will crimson the
cheek of true womanhood, or invade the _unconsciousness_ of _innocence_,
is unworthy and unmanly, to a degree of which it is not easy to find
language to express sufficient abhorrence. The defencelessness of the
dependent sex, in this, as in all other respects, is their best
protection with all who--
"Give the world assurance of a _man_!"
And the same shield is presented by those whose profession precludes
their adopting the means of self-defence permitted to the world at
large. Nothing can be more vulgar--setting aside the immorality of the
thing--than to speak disrespectfully of religion, or of its advocates
and professors, in society--what then shall be said of those who assail
the ears of the acknowledged champions of Christianity with infidel
sentiments, contemptuous insinuations, or profane expletives? Depend
upon it, a _man of the world_, whatever his honest doubts, or unorthodox
convictions, will be as little likely to present himself as a mark in
regard to these matters for the _suspicious distrust_, or the _palpable
misapprehension_ of society, as to subject himself to the charges of
extreme _juvenility_ and _low breeding_ by assailing a clergyman with
ridicule, or a woman with libertinism, however exquisite may be his wit
in the one case, or apparently refined his insinuations, in the other.
While recommending to your attention the selection of suitable and
tasteful subjects of general conversation, I should not omit to remind
you that nothing but acknowledged intimacy sanctions the manifestation
of curiosity respecting the affairs of others. As a rule, _direct
questions_ are inadmissible in good society. Listen with politeness to
what may be voluntarily communicated to you by your associates,
regarding themselves, but on no account, indulge an impertinent
curiosity in such matters; and when courtesy sanctions the manifestation
of interest, express your desire for information in polite language, and
with a half-apologetic manner, that will permit reserve, without
embarrassment to either party. Let me add, that an uncalled-for
exhibition of your familiarity with the private affairs of a friend,
when his own presence and manner should furnish your proper clue to his
wishes, is to prove yourself unworthy of his confidence. As well might
one boast of his acquaintance with the great, or assume an unceremonious
manner towards them, on unsuitable occasions. In either case, one is
liable to the repulse sustained by an unfortunate candidate for
fashionable distinction, who, approaching a member of English _haut ton_
in the streets of London, said, "I believe I had the honor of knowing
you in the country, sir."--"_When we again meet in the country_," was
the reply, "I shall be pleased to renew the acquaintance!"
_Quickness of repartee_ may be reckoned among the graces of the
colloquial art, and those who are gifted with activity of intellect, and
have acquired facility in the use of expressive language, should possess
the power thus to embellish their social intercourse. Every one is now
and then inspired in this way, I believe; but few persons,
comparatively, even among the most practised conversationists, excel in
this respect. How few, for instance, would have responded as readily, in
an emergency, as did the half-drunk servant of Swift:
"Is my fellow here?" inquired the Dean, pushing open the door of a low
tavern much frequented by his often-missing _valet_.
A nondescript figure came staggering forward, and stuttered out--"_Your
L-Lordship's f-a-l-l-o-w can't b-be f-found in all I-Ire-Ireland!_"
I have lately met, somewhere in my reading, with the following anecdote
of the elder Adams, as he is frequently called. I remember, at this
moment no better illustration of ready repartee:
"How are you this morning, sir?" asked a friend who called to pay his
respects to this patriotic son of New England, during the latter days of
his life.
"Not well," replied the invalid; "I am not well. I inhabit a weak,
frail, decayed tenement, open to the winds, and broken in upon by the
storms, and what is worse, _from all I can learn, the landlord does not
intend to make repairs_!"
_A ready and graceful reply to a compliment_, may, also, be regarded as
a conversational embellishment. It is not polite to _retort_ to the
language of courtesy with a charge of insincerity, or of flattery.
_Playfulness_ frequently affords the best resource, or the _retort
courteous_, as in Lord Nelson's celebrated reply to Lady Hamilton's
questions of "Why do you differ so much from other men? Why are you so
superior to the rest of your sex?" "If there were more Emmas, there
would be more Nelsons." One may say, "I fear I owe your commendation to
the partiality of friendship;" or, "I trust you may never be undeceived
in regard to my poor accomplishments;" or, "Really, madam, your
penetration enables you to make discoveries for me." Then again, to one
of the lenient sex, one may reply--"Mrs. Blank sees all her friends
through the most becoming of glasses--her own eyes." And to an older
gentleman, who honors you with the fiat of a compliment, thus proving
that it may sometimes be false that
"The vanquished have no friends,"
"Really, sir, I do not know whether I am most overwhelmed by admiration
for your wit and politeness, or by gratitude for your kindness." Or some
phrase like this will occasionally be appropriate--"I am afraid, sir, I
shall plume myself too highly upon your good opinion. You do me much
honor;" or, "It will be my _devoir_, as well as my happiness, for the
future, to deserve your commendation, sir;" or, "You inspire as much as
you encourage me, dear sir--if I possess any claim to your flattering
compliment, you have yourself elicited it." To a compliment to one's
wit, or the like, one may reply--"Dullness is always banished by the
presence of Miss ----;" or, "Who could fail to be, in some degree, at
least, inspired in such a presence?" Then, again, a reply like this will
suffice--"I am only too happy in being permitted to amuse you, madam."
Permit me in this connection, a few words respecting _conversation with
ladies_. Though all mere silliness and twaddle should be regarded as
equally unworthy of them and yourselves, yet, in general association
with the fairest ornaments of creation, _agreeability_, rather than
profundity, should be your aim, in the choice of topics. Sensitive,
tasteful, refined,
"And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made,"
their vividness of imagination and sportiveness of fancy demand
similarity of intellectual gifts, or the graceful tribute of, at least,
temporary assimilation. _Playfulness_, _cheerfulness_, _versatility_,
and _courtesy_ should characterize colloquial intercourse with ladies;
but the deference due them should never degenerate into mere servile
acquiescence, or mawkish sentimentality.
The utmost _refinement of language and of matter_ should always be
regarded as essential, under such circumstances, to the discourse of a
well-bred man; and should, of course, distinguish his _manner_ as well.
Thus, all slang phrases, everything approaching to _double entendre_,
all familiarity of address, unsanctioned by relationship or acknowledged
intimacy, all mis-timed or unsanctioned use of nick-names and Christian
names, are as inadmissible in good society as are personal
familiarities, nudging, winking, whispering, etc.
Too much care cannot be taken in avoiding all subjects that may have the
effect to wound or distress others. I think I have before remarked that
people go into society for enjoyment--relaxation from the grave duties
and cares of life--not to be depressed by the misanthropy of others, or
disturbed by details of scenes of horror. I have known persons who had
such a morbid taste for such things as always to insist upon reading
aloud, even in the hearing of children and ladies, the frightful
newspaper details of rail-road accidents and steamboat explosions. I
remember, in particular, once having the misfortune to be acquainted
with such a social incubus, to whom a death in the neighborhood was a
regular God-send, and to whom the wholesale slaughter made by the
collision of rail-cars served as colloquial capital for weeks--indeed
until some provident body corporate supplied new material for his
cormorant powers of mental digestion! His letters to distant friends
were a regular _bill of mortality_, filled with minute accounts of the
peculiar form of disease by which every old woman of his acquaintance
was enabled to shuffle off this mortal coil, and of every accident that
occurred in the country for miles around--from the sudden demise of a
poor widow's cow, to the broken leg of a robber of bird's-nests! I shall
never forget the revulsion of feeling he produced for me, one serene
summer evening, as I was placidly strolling over the sands by the
sea-shore, drinking in the glory of old Neptune's wide-spread realm, by
inflicting upon me, not only _himself_--which was enough for mortal
patience--but a long rigmarole about the great numbers of fishes washed
upon the shore by a recent storm, who had had their eyes picked out by
birds of prey, while still struggling for life in an uncongenial
element! On another occasion, I had the misfortune to be present when a
young lady was thrown into violent hysterics by his mentioning, with as
much _gusto_ as an inveterate "collector" would have exhibited in
boasting the possession of a _steak_ from the celebrated "antediluvian
beef," immortalized by Cuvier,[13] that he had picked up a small foot
with a lady's boot on it, while visiting the scene of a late rail-road
accident!
[13] Speaking in one of his public lectures, of the recent discovery
(amid the eternal snows of Siberia, I think), of the carcass of a
_mastodon_, upon which the hunting-dogs of the explorers had
fed--"_Thus_," said the great naturalist, "_did modern dogs gorge
themselves upon antediluvian beef!_"
But avoiding these aggravated forms of grossness is not enough. True
politeness requires attention to the peculiarities of each of the
company you are with--teaching, for instance, your abstaining from
allusions to their personal defects or misfortunes, to the embarrassment
of conversing with deaf persons, in the presence of those thus
afflicted, to lameness, when some one present has lost a limb, to the
peculiarities of age, in the hearing of elderly persons, to the vulgar
impression that all lawyers are knaves, when one of the sons of that
noble profession is among your auditors--to the murderous reputation of
the disciples of Esculapius, etc. This rule will teach, too, the use of
a less offensive term than that of "old maid," when speaking of women of
no particular age, in the hearing of such as are by courtesy only,
without the pale alluded to; and the propriety of not appealing to such
authority in relation to matters of remote personal remembrance!
In no country with the social institutions of which I am familiar, do
the peculiar opinions obtain, which prevail in this country respecting
_age_. "Young America" regards every one as old, apparently, who has
attained majority, and _women_, in particular, are subjected to a most
unjust ordeal in this respect. The French have a popular saying that no
woman is agreeable until she is forty; and in both France and England,
_marriage_--which first entitles a young lady to a decided position in
society--usually occurs at a much later period in her life than with
us. In neither of those countries are girls _brought out_ at an age when
here they are frequently already mothers! But to return: nothing is more
ill-bred, than this too frequent assumption of the claims of women to be
exempt from social obligations and deprived of their proper places in
society, in this country, while still retaining all their pristine
claims to agreeability. Polished manners, cultivated tastes and personal
attractions, are not to have their claims abrogated by Time. You
remember the poet says:
"The little Loves are infants ever,
The Graces are of every age!"
I well remember being intensely chagrined by an exhibition of
under-breeding in this way while making a morning visit, with a young
countryman of ours, upon a beautiful English girl, a distant relative of
his.
After discussing London fogs, and other kindred topics, Jonathan
suddenly burst forth, as if suddenly inspired with a bright thought.
"How's the old lady?"
The largest pair of blue eyes, opening to their full extent, turned
wonderingly upon the querist.
"Your _mother_,--is she well this morning?"
"Mamma is pretty well, thank you; but it is not possible that you regard
her as _old_! Mamma is in the very prime of life, only just turned of
five and forty! Dear mother! she is looking very pale and sad in her
widow's cap, but we have never thought of her as _old_," and a shadow,
like the sudden darkening of a fair landscape, dimmed those deep blue
eyes and that fine forehead.
But enough upon this collateral point.
I trust you will need no argument to convince you of the vulgarity and
immorality of permitting yourselves the practice of _repeating private
conversation_. Nothing will more surely tend to deprive you of the
respect and friendship of well-bred people, since nothing is more
thoroughly understood in good society, than a tacit recognition of that
essential security to social confidence and good-feeling which utterly
interdicts the repetition of private conversation.
Let me only add to these rambling observations the assurance that a
_ready compliance_ with the wishes of others, in exercising any personal
accomplishment, is a mark of genuine good-breeding.
* * * * *
During one of my visits to London, some years since, the Duke of ----
invited me to run down with him, for a few days, to his magnificent
estate in ----shire.
Riding one morning with my host and a numerous party of his guests, we
paused to breathe our horses, and enjoy the fine prospect, upon the
summit of a hill overlooking the wide-spread acres of his lordship.
"Here the estate of my neighbor, Mr. ----, joins my land," said the
Duke, pointing, with his riding-whip, towards a narrow, thickly-wooded
valley, at our feet. "You catch a glimpse of his turrets through the
oaks yonder. This spot always reminds me," pursued our host, laughing,
"of an amusing incident of which it was the scene, years ago, when the
family of my neighbor had not become as distinguished as it now is,
among the philanthropists of the age. A young friend of ours, who was
spending the shooting-season here with my sons, while eagerly pursuing
his game, one morning, unconsciously trespassed upon the preserves of
Mr. ----. The report of his fowling-piece brought Mr. ---- suddenly to
his side, just as he was triumphantly bagging his bird. My excellent
neighbor, with all his admirable qualities, is sometimes a little
choleric, and you know, Col. Lunettes, [bowing and smiling] that nothing
sooner rouses the ire of a true Englishman, than an invasion of the
_Game Laws_."
"'Sir!' cried Mr. ----, in a voice trembling with ill-suppressed fury,
'do you know that you are trespassing,--that these are _my_ grounds?'
"My young guest was not permitted fully to explain, before the angry man
again burst forth with a tirade, which he concluded, by asking--'What
would you do yourself, sir, under such circumstances? How would you feel
disposed to treat a gentleman who had encroached upon your rights in
this way?'
"'Well, really, sir, since you ask me, I think I should _invite him to
go with me to the house and take a mouthful of lunch_!'
"This was irresistible! Even ----'s indignation was cooled by such
inimitable _sang froid_, and he at once adopted the suggestion of the
young sportsman. My witty guest not only secured the refreshment he
needed, but, eventually, helped himself to a _bonne bouche_ of more
substantial character, by his marriage with one of the blooming
daughters of my neighbor, to whom he was introduced on that memorable
occasion!"
* * * * *
A young American of my acquaintance, met, not long since, in the
_salons_ of a distinguished _Parisienne_, one of the most learnedly
scientific of the French authors of our times.
"I am as much surprised as I am delighted, to meet you here to-night,
Mr. ----," said my friend, "I supposed you too much occupied in profound
research and study, to find time for such enjoyments."
"I am, indeed, much occupied at present," returned the _savant_; "but I
can neither more agreeably nor more profitably spend a portion of my
time than in the society of my refined and cultivated friend, Madame
----, and that of the intellectual and accomplished visitors I always
meet at her house."
* * * * *
Speaking, in the body of this letter, of the uselessness of _arguing_
with the hope of convincing others, reminded me, by association, of a
little incident illustrative of my opinion, of which I was once a
witness, during a summer sojourn at Avon Springs--a little quiet
watering-place in the Empire State, as you may know.
There was a pleasant company of us, and our intercourse was agreeable
and friendly--all, apparently, disposed to contribute to the general
stock of amusement, and to make the most of our somewhat limited
resources in the way of general entertainment. There were pretty
daughters and managing mammas, heiresses, and ladies without fortune,
who were quite as attractive as those whose fetters were of gold, the
usual complement of brainless youths, antiquated bachelors and
millionaire widowers (so reputed), with a sprinkling of nondescripts and
old soldiers, like myself.