NEXT to good-breeding is a genteel manner and carriage, wholly free from
those ill habits and awkward actions, which many very worthy persons are
addicted to.
A GENTEEL manner of behaviour, how trifling so-ever it may seem, is of
the utmost consequence in private life. Men of very inferior parts have
been esteemed, merely for their genteel carriage and good-breeding,
while sensible men have given disgust for want of it. There is something
or other that prepossesses us at first sight, in favour of a well-bred
man, and makes us wish to like him.
WHEN an awkward fellow first comes into a room, he attempts to bow, and
his sword, if he wears one, goes between his legs, and nearly throws him
down. Confused and ashamed, he stumbles to the upper end of the room,
and seats himself in the very chair he should not. He there begins
playing with his hat, which he presently drops; and recovering his hat,
he lets fall his cane; and in picking up his cane, down goes his hat
again; thus ’tis a considerable time before he is adjusted. When his tea
or coffee is handed to him, he spreads his handkerchief upon his knees,
scalds his mouth, drops either the cup or the saucer, and spills the tea
or coffee in his lap. At dinner he is more uncommonly awkward; there he
tucks his napkin through a button-hole, which tickles his chin, and
occasions him to make a variety of wry faces; he seats himself upon the
edge of the chair, at so great a distance from the table, that he
frequently drops his meat between his plate and his mouth; he holds his
knife, fork and spoon differently from other people; eats with his
knife, to the manifest danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with his
fork, rakes his mouth with his finger, and puts his spoon which has been
in his throat a dozen times, into the dish again. If he is to carve, he
cannot hit the joint, but in labouring to cut through the bone, splashes
the sauce over every body’s cloaths. He generally daubs himself all
over, his elbows are in the next person’s plate, and he is up to the
knuckles in soup and grease. If he drinks, it is with his mouth full,
interrupting the whole company with ‘To your good health, sir,’ and ‘My
service to you;’ perhaps coughs in his glass, and be-sprinkles the whole
table. Further, he has perhaps a number of disagreeable tricks, he
snuffs up his nose, picks it with his fingers, blows it, and looks in
his handkerchief, crams his hands first into his bosom, and next into
his breeches. In short, he neither dresses nor acts like any other
person, but is particularly awkward in every thing he does. All this, I
own, has nothing in it criminal; but it is such an offence to good
manners and good-breeding, that it is universally despised; it makes a
man ridiculous in every company, and, of course, ought carefully to be
avoided by every one who would wish to please.
FROM this picture of the ill-bred man, you will easily discover that of
the well-bred; for you may readily judge what you ought to do, when you
are told what you ought not to do; a little attention to the manners of
those who have seen the world, will make a proper behaviour habitual and
familiar to you.
ACTIONS, that would otherwise be pleasing, frequently become ridiculous
by the manner of doing them. If a lady drop her fan in company, the
worst-bred man would immediately pick it up, and give it to her; the
best bred man can do no more; but then he does it in a graceful manner,
that is sure to please; whereas the other would do it so awkwardly as to
be laughed at.
YOU may also know a well-bred person by his manner of sitting. Ashamed
and confused, the awkward man sits in his chair stiff and bolt upright,
whereas the man of fashion, is easy in every position; instead of
lolling or lounging as he sits, he leans with elegance, and by varying
his attitudes, shews that he has been used to good company. Let it be
one part of your study then, to learn to sit genteely in different
companies, to loll gracefully, where you are authorized to take that
liberty, and sit up respectfully, where that freedom is not allowable.
IN short, you cannot conceive how advantageous a graceful carriage and a
pleasing address are, upon all occasions; they ensnare the affections,
seal a prepossession in our favour, and play about the heart till they
engage it.
NOW to acquire a graceful air, you must attend to your dancing; no one
can either sit, stand or walk well, unless he dances well. And, in
learning to dance, be particularly attentive to the motion of your arms,
for a stiffness in the wrist will make any man look awkward. If a man
walks well, presents himself well in company, wears his hat well, moves
his head properly, and his arms gracefully, it is almost all that is
necessary.
THERE is also an awkwardness in speech, that naturally falls under this
head, and ought to and may be guarded against; such as forgetting names,
and mistaking one name for another; to speak of Mr. What-d’ye-call-him,
or You-know-who, Mrs. Thingum, What’s-her-name, or How-d’ye-call-her, is
exceedingly awkward and vulgar. It is the same to address people by
improper titles, as _sir_ for _my lord_; to begin a story without being
able to finish it, and break off in the middle, with, ‘I have forgot the
rest.’
OUR voice and manner of speaking too, should likewise be attended to.
Some will mumble over their words, so as not to be intelligible, and
others will speak so fast as not to be understood, and, in doing this,
will spatter and spit in your face; some will bawl as if they were
speaking to the deaf; others will speak so low as scarcely to be heard;
and many will put their face so close to yours, as to offend you with
their breath. All these habits are horrid and disgustful, but may easily
be got the better of, with care. They are the vulgar characteristics of
a low-bred man, or are proofs that very little pains have been bestowed
in his education. In short, an attention to these little matters is of
greater importance than you are aware of; many sensible men having lost
ground for want of these little graces, and many, possessed of these
perfections alone, having made their way through life, who otherwise
would not have been noticed.