When you make a half ceremonious call, and the person you are visiting,

insists upon your stopping, it is proper to do so, but after a few

minutes you should rise to go: if you are urged still further, and are

taken by the hands and made to sit down as it were by force, to leave

immediately would be impolite, but nevertheless you must, after a short

interval, get up a third time, and then certainly retire. If, during

your call, a member of the family enters the room, you need not on this

account take leave, but content yourself by rising, and saluting the

person. If a lady, you must not seat yourself until she sits down; if a

gentleman, you can yield to the invitation made you to take your seat,

while the other remains standing. If you make a visit with others, there

are some points to be observed in relation to your companions. In going

up the staircase, it is rigorously the custom to give precedence to

those to whom you owe respect, and to yield to such persons the most

convenient part of the stairs, which is that next the wall. Above all,

do not forget this last caution if you accompany a lady; and a well-bred

gentleman, at such a time, should offer his arm. When there are many

persons, he should bestow this mark of respect on the oldest. If you

meet any one on the staircase, place yourself on the side opposite to

the one he occupies. It would be vexatious and out of place to make an

everlasting ceremony as to who should be announced first; the preference

must be given to ladies; next to them, to age and rank. The time of

taking leave should be also determined by ladies, or by aged persons,

and those who are of consequence. It would be impolite to wish to retire

before they gave the signal. We should add, that it is unsuitable for

more than three or four to visit together. Persons of high ton are

accompanied even to the ante-room by one or two servants, who receive

them again when going out.

To carry children or dogs with one on a visit of ceremony, is altogether

vulgar and provincial. Even in half-ceremonious visits, it is necessary

to leave one's dog in the ante-room, as well as the nurse who holds the

infant, for this circumstance alone excuses such a suite. As to animals,

it is a thousand times better not to have them at all.

We justly reproach inhabitants of the province for lavishing salutations

in meeting people, or in taking leave of them. This custom, which may

make us contract a reservedness or too much familiarity, is extremely

ridiculous. Is it not difficult to keep one's countenance, when we see a

visiter salute every article of furniture, to turn and turn again

twenty times as you conduct him, and pour forth at every pause a volley

of salutations and adieus? Our readers will beware of this over

politeness; they will salute the first time, at the moment they take

leave, and again, when the person who conducts them back shall have

stopped at the door. We have before said that when we do not find

persons at home, or when we are afraid of disturbing them, we leave a

card; but this is not what we call particularly _visits by card_

(_visites par cartes_). In these last visits, it is not our object to

see the persons, since we do not ask for them, and we confine ourselves

to giving our card to the porter or domestic. This custom, which has

been introduced necessarily among persons of very general acquaintance,

and especially at times when every one ought to be visited, as on the

new-year's day,--this custom so far is not ridiculous, but it becomes so

by the great extent which has been given to it for some time past. This

extent consists in making a visit without leaving our apartment; that is

to say, merely by sending our card by a domestic, or indeed by means of

an agency established for this purpose. The practice of visits by cards,

seems to persons of good society the most impertinent and vulgar thing

which can be imagined. Do not then permit it, except when the question

is about returning visits made in this way; and do not use such

retaliations, except to prevent these ill-advised visiters from thinking

that you put yourself out to oblige them.

In works devoted to the instruction of the laws of propriety, we think

only of fortune and affluence; we entirely forget people of a more

modest condition, and when we find ourselves in connexion with them, we

cry out against their impoliteness. It is an injustice, and in my

opinion, a false calculation. An injustice, because true politeness

pertains less to rank, than to uprightness and goodness of heart; a

false calculation, for to refuse to initiate people into what renders

the social relations easy and agreeable, is to prepare for ourselves

collision and vexation, and to retard as much as is in our power, the

practice of the forms of civilization.

Despising then this foolish disdain, we shall applaud the great care of

persons not in affluence, who, having neither porter nor domestic, place

at their door a slate furnished with a pencil, that in their absence

visiters may write their names; for these visiters are seldom such as

carry cards. We shall applaud the benevolent care of persons whose

staircase is not lighted, or whose apartment is in the upper stories,

and who leave with the porter a candle which every one who arrives,

takes, in order to ascend, and returns it again on descending. If any

of our rich readers should be tempted to smile at the announcement of

these precautions of the more humble citizens, we would remind them that

they are entirely strangers to the spirit of politeness, of which these

precautions are a striking example.

This digression naturally leads us to the second part of our task

relative to visits, concerning the duties which politeness imposes as to

receiving them, for it is not less important to receive people well,

than to present ourselves well to them.

Before passing to this important subject, it would seem my duty to

finish what remains for me to say concerning visits, by the mention of

visits of audience, of congratulation, of condolence, and of repast; but

except the first, to which I am going to devote a few words, details of

all the others will be found in the chapters devoted to conversation, to

formalities of repasts, of mourning, &c.

We should not merely call upon ministers, heads of the public

administration, and very distinguished persons; we must beforehand

request of them by writing a place of meeting and must specify the

object of our visit. We must call upon them at the appointed hour; we

must abstain from inquiring after their health, and observe strictly the

obligations of decorum. These visits, which are the acme of ceremony,

ought necessarily to be very short.

We shall see, in the chapter on _Epistolary Propriety_, what titles are

proper to be given to these important personages. It is well to be

furnished with a letter of admission, that in case of necessity we may

show it to the servant.

CHAPTER III.

_Of the Manner of Receiving Visitors._

To receive visitors with ease and elegance, and in such a manner that

everything in you, and about you, shall partake of propriety and grace,

to endeavor that people may always be satisfied when they leave you, and

desirous to come again,--such are the obligations of the master, and

especially of the mistress of a house.

Everything in the house, ought, as far as possible, to offer English

_comfort_, and French grace. Perfect order, exquisite neatness and

elegance which easily dispenses with being sumptuous, ought to mark the

entrance of the house, the furniture and the dress of the lady.

In a house where affluence abounds, it is indispensable to have a

drawing-room, for it is troublesome and in bad _ton_ to receive visits

in a lodging-room, at one's own dwelling. This may indeed do for a mere

call; but it becomes almost ridiculous when, after dinner, it is

necessary to pass into this room to take coffee, if you are receiving a

small company, &c. This custom is not any longer adopted, except in the

provincial towns and among persons who do not pride themselves on their

good _ton_.

To receive company in a dining-room, is not allowed except among those

persons who cannot bear the expense of furnishing a parlor or

drawing-room. Simplicity, admitted into an apartment of this kind,

suited to the smallness of their means, we cannot but approve, while we

regret nevertheless, the disagreeable things to which such a residence

subjects them. But we have, in this respect, an express warning to make

to people who give themselves up to it unnecessarily, for it is

altogether opposed to the received usages of good society to put

yourselves in a situation which you cannot adorn, where you cannot place

arm-chairs, a chimney-piece, a glass, a clock, and all things useful to

persons who come to see you; where you are exposed to receiving twenty

visits during dinner; of seeing as many interruptions during the setting

of your table, since it is impossible to spread the cloth while

strangers remain; finally, of making them witnesses of your domestic

cares while removing the remains of a repast, the table-cloth,

dishes, &c.

Young mothers of families who wish to have with them their children,

(troublesome guests, in a drawing-room, as every one knows,) think that

they may remain in the dining-room, and have strangers conducted into

an adjacent apartment. That this may not be inconvenient, it is

necessary to observe three things; first, that strangers be admitted

into this apartment before seeing the mistress of the house, because

they would not fail to create difficulties, by saying that they did not

wish to disturb her; second, that the apartment be constantly warmed in

winter; third, that in summer it should be furnished precisely as an

occupied chamber, for nothing is worse than to conduct people into a

room which seems to be to let.

Unless from absolute inability, you ought to light your staircase. If

the practices of good domestic economy regulated by the cares of

civilization, were more generally extended, a staircase not lighted

would not often be found.

After having thus cast a rapid glance into the interior of the house,

let us see in what manner it is necessary to receive visitors.

When we see any one enter, whether announced or not, we rise

immediately, advance toward them, request them to sit down, avoiding

however the old form of, '_Take the trouble to be seated_.' If it is a

young man, we offer him an arm-chair, or a stuffed one; if an elderly

man, we insist upon his accepting the arm-chair; if a lady, we beg her

to be seated upon the ottoman. If the master of the house receives the

visitors, he will take a chair and place himself at a little distance

from them; if, on the contrary, it is the mistress of the house, and if

she is intimate with the lady who visits her, she will place herself

near her. If several ladies come at a time, we give this last place to

the one most distinguished by rank. In winter, the most honorable places

are those at the corner of the fire-place; in proportion as they place

you in front of the fire, your seat is considered inferior in rank.

Moreover, when it happens to be a respectable married lady, and one to

whom we wish to do honor, we take her by the hand and conduct her to the

corner of the fire-place. If this place is occupied by a young lady, she

ought to rise and offer her seat to the other lady, taking for herself a

chair in the middle of the circle.

A mistress of a house ought to watch anxiously that they experience no

restraint before her; consequently, she will take care to present

screens to the ladies seated in front of the fire; she will move under

their feet tabourets, or what is better, pads, (coussins) but never

foot-stoves. If she is alone with an intimate acquaintance, she will

request her to take hers, but she will never extend this politeness to a

gentleman.

If a door or window happens to be open in the room in summer time, we

should ask of visitors, if it incommodes them.

If a lady who receives a half ceremonious visit is sewing, she ought to

leave off immediately, and not resume it except at the request of the

visitor. If they are on quite intimate terms, she ought herself to

request permission to continue. If a person visits in an entirely

ceremonious way, it would be very impolite to work even an instant.

Moreover, even with friends, we should hardly be occupied with our work,

but should seem to forget it on their account.

In proportion as the visitor is a stranger, the master or mistress of

the house rises, and any persons who may be already there are obliged to

do the same. Some of them then withdraw; in this case, if the master and

the mistress of the house have with them any persons of their family,

after having conducted as far as the door those who are going, they

request one of their relations to take their place. If the case be

otherwise, it is necessary to choose between the persons who remain and

those who retire. If the latter are superior in rank, age or

consideration, we must give them the preference, and _vice versa_. But

however respectable the person be who departs, we may dispense with

conducting them farther than the door of the room.

The manner in which we should usually re-conduct visitors is regulated

in an invariable manner. If it is a lady who is to be accompanied, the

master of the house takes her hand, passes it under his arm, and thus

leads her as far as the bottom of the staircase, unless the steps be so

narrow that two cannot go abreast. It is no longer the custom to give

the hand to ladies, but to offer them the arm. This new custom does not

at all change the ancient rule of propriety which requires that in

descending a staircase, we should give the side next the wall to the

lady whom we accompany; we commonly present to her the right arm,

provided however, that necessity does not oblige us, in order to avoid

placing her next the balustrade, to offer the left. If she is to return

in a carriage, we should politely hand her into it.

In the provincial towns, they conduct all or almost all visitors, as far

as the street door, unless they are gentlemen and have visited a lady.

She ought then to accompany them, as is always done in Paris, that is to

say, as far as the door of the room, or the head of the stairs.

Parisians add to this custom an agreeable civility; they hold the door

open, and standing upon the threshold or edge of the staircase, follow

with their eyes the visitor until he turns round to make the last

salutation or adieu, or to request the host to return.

We no longer practice that frank and open hospitality of the provinces,

by virtue of which, in the middle of winter, we request people to

_refresh_ themselves with some solid eatables. Such a proposal would now

excite a smile. We do not make any such offer to visitors, but under

these circumstances. First, during very hot weather, we invite them to

take a glass of syrup, or of iced water. Second, if any one is reading,

we offer him _eau sucrée_, that is, the little household article to

which we have given that name. Third, we offer orange flower water to a

lady who happens to be suddenly indisposed. Excepting these cases, we

make no offer of this kind. If any one wishes to refresh himself, he

requests the mistress of the house to allow him to ring the bell. After

assent is given, he asks of the domestic who comes, whatever he

desires.

CHAPTER IV.

_Of the Carriage of the Body._

The carriage of the body seems so simple, so common, and so easy a

thing, that undoubtedly on seeing this title, many readers will think I

design to send them back to _puerile_ and _plain civility_. But if they

will take the pains to reflect upon the numberless violations of

propriety in the carriage of the body, of which they are daily

witnesses; if they will call to the mind the many strange motions,

ridiculous gestures, pretending attitudes, affected looks, and clownish

movements; if they will recollect that the carriage of the body ought to

be in perfect harmony with the situation, age, mind and sex, and a

distinguishing trait of the physiognomy; if they will consider the

unfavorable prejudices to which a disdainful, immodest, or vulgar

deportment give rise, they will understand my anxiety in this respect.

It is without doubt impossible to notice all faults in the carriage of

the body. This volume would not be sufficient for it; we must be

satisfied therefore with designating the principal ones.

To look steadily at any one, especially if you are a lady and are

speaking to a gentleman; to turn the head frequently on one side and the

other during conversation; to balance yourself upon your chair; to bend

forward; to strike your hands upon your knees; to hold one of your knees

between your hands locked together; to cross your legs; to extend your

feet on the andirons; to admire yourself with complacency in a glass; to

adjust in an affected manner your cravat, hair, dress, handkerchief; to

remain without gloves; to fold carefully your shawl, instead of throwing

it with graceful negligence upon a table, &c.; to fret about a hat which

you have just left off; to laugh immoderately; to place your hand upon

the person with whom you are conversing; to take him by the buttons, the

collar of his coat, the cuffs, the waist, &c.; to seize ladies by the

waist, or to touch their person; to roll the eyes, or to raise them with

affectation; to take snuff from the box of your neighbor, or to offer it

to strangers, especially to ladies; to play continually with the seals

of your watch, a chain, or a fan; to beat time with the feet and hands;

to whirl round a chair on one leg; to shake with your feet the chair of

your neighbor; to stroke your face; rub your hands continually; wink

your eyes; shrug up your shoulders; stamp with your feet, &c.;--all

these bad habits, of which we ought never to speak to people, among

those who are witnesses of them, and are in the highest degree

displeasing.

The carriage of the body is as expressive as the tone of voice, and

perhaps more so, because it is more constant; it betrays to the observer

all the shades of character, and we ought to be very careful of thus

making a general confession, by affected manners, a pretending

deportment, sneering ways, rough movements, a hard countenance,

impertinent signs and looks, simpering smiles, clownish gestures, a

nonchalant and effeminate posture, or a carriage of the body

distinguished by prudery and stiffness.

Young ladies, and very young men little habituated to the world, ought

to be on their guard against excessive timidity, for it not only

paralyzes their powers, renders them awkward, and gives them an almost

silly air, but it may even cause them to be accused of pride, among

people who do not know that embarrassment frequently takes the form of

superciliousness. How often does it happen that timid persons do not

salute you at all, answer in a low voice, or very ill, omit a thousand

little duties of society, and fail in a numberless agreeable attentions,

for want of courage? These attentions, and these duties, they discharge

in _petto_, but who will thank them for it? A proper degree of

confidence, but not degenerating into assurance, still less into

boldness or familiarity, is then one of the most desirable qualities in

the world. To obtain which, we most observe the _ton_, and the manners

of polite and benevolent people, take them for our guides, and, under

their direction, make continual efforts to conquer our timidity.

Propriety in the carriage of the body is especially indispensable to

ladies. It is by this that, in a walk, a ball, or any assembly, people

who cannot converse with them, judge of their merit and their good

education. How many dancers move off, and how many persons sigh with

pity, at the sight of a beautiful woman who has a mincing way, affects

grace, inclines her head affectedly, and who seems to admire herself

incessantly, and to invite others to admire her also. Who ever makes up

his mind to enter into conversation with an immovable lady, and one who

is formal and precise, lengthening out the body, pressing the lips, and

carrying back the elbows as if they were fastened to her side?

The gait of a lady ought neither to be too quick nor too slow; the most

easy and most convenient step is that which fatigues the least and

pleases most. The body and the head should be erect without affectation

and without haughtiness; the movements, especially those of the arms,

easy and natural. The countenance should be pleasant and modest.

It is not in good _ton_ for a lady to speak too quick or too loud. When

seated, she ought neither to cross her legs, nor take a vulgar attitude.

She should occupy her chair entirely, and appear neither too restless,

nor too immovable. It is altogether out of place for her to throw her

drapery around her in sitting down, or to spread out her dress for

display, as upstarts do in order to avoid the least rumple.

But what is especially insupportable in this sex is, an inquiet, bold,

and imperious air; for it is unnatural, and not allowable in any case.

If a lady has cares, let her conceal them from the world, or not go into

it. Whatever be her merit, let her not forget that she may be a man by

the superiority of her mind and decision of character, but that

externally she ought to be a woman! She ought to present herself as a

being made to please, to love, and to seek a support; a being inferior

to man, and near to angels. An affectionate, complying, and almost timid

aspect, a tender solicitude for those who are about her, should be shown

in her whole person. Her face should breathe hope, gentleness and

satisfaction; dejection, anxiety, and ill-humor should be constantly

banished.

Before leaving a subject so fruitful, I shall point out to my readers

two examples of a bad position. The one is a _fashionable_ with his head

stiff, a borrowed air, his leg strained out, trembling lest he should

disarrange the symmetry of his cravat, and lest he should pucker his

pantaloons, his sleeve or the collar of his coat.

The other is an awkward person, with his feet drawn together and placed

upon the round of the chair, his hands spread out upon his knees, his

shoulders sunk, and his mouth half open. Between these two caricatures

there are many degrees which are ridiculous, but which we leave to the

sagacity of our readers to appreciate. We come now to our instructions

in respect to conversation. They are so important, that we think it our

duty to divide them into two parts, namely; physical proprieties, and

moral proprieties.

CHAPTER V.

_Of Physical Proprieties in Conversation._

This first division will comprehend the physical care of the organs we

use in conversation, our movements, the manner of listening,

pronunciation, and purity of speech in a grammatical view.

SECTION I.

_Physical Observances in Conversation._

Conversation is the principal, not to say the only means of pleasing,

and making our way in the world. How does it happen then, that so many

persons converse, without being troubled at the ridicule thrown upon

themselves, and the _ennui_ they occasion their hearers; without going

into the inquiry, whether they have not some physical qualities which

present more or less obstacles to the art of conversing well, or without

thinking of the means of correcting them!

We shall point out some faults and the means of remedying them. It is

essential in speaking, to be well on our guard not to protrude the

tongue too near the edge of the lips. This bad habit has many great

inconveniences: it occasions a kind of disagreeable hissing, produced by

the immediate contact of this organ as it passes the teeth; and exposes

us to throw out saliva.[13] When an unfortunate habit or too great a

development of the tongue produces these accidents, we should take care

to keep this unlucky organ out of the way on one side of the gums or the

other. As to the fault which is opposite to this, that is, stammering,

by reason of too small size of the tongue, we should practice when we

are alone speaking distinctly. To declaim and to exercise ourselves upon

the words which present the greatest difficulties, is a useful exercise.

There are some persons in whom the saliva is so abundant, that it makes

their pronunciation thick; such persons should accustom themselves to

swallow it before beginning to speak.

Politeness in accordance with health, requires that our teeth should be

perfectly clean. A yellow and foul set of teeth, which emit an odor,

will not suffer any one to be sensible to our grace or the eloquence of

our language. Feelings of disgust are without appeal.

Some persons who have fine teeth, have the lamentable fault of showing

them in speaking; this ridiculous vanity excites laughter, and besides,

injures the physiognomy: it is not necessary to conceal the teeth to the

utmost, but always without affectation. To use a tooth-pick while

speaking, to carry the fingers to the gums, to hold a flower between the

teeth, are habits of bad _ton_.

To open the mouth widely when one speaks, especially when making an

exclamation of wonder or surprise; to draw the mouth on one side to give

ourselves the air of an original; to contract it, in order to make it

small; to laugh violently in an unmeaning and boisterous manner; to

impart to the lips, trembling and convulsive motions when any one

relates or reads something sad or terrible; to force our breath into the

face of the person we are conversing with--all these are shocking

faults, and insupportable grimaces.

[13] When this accident happens to any one, you must appear not to

perceive it.

SECTION II.

_Of Gestures._

To act a pantomine with every word, cannot be tolerated; extended or

numerous gestures, which do not accord with the conversation; mysterious

signs accompanying the announcement of the most simple thing; abrupt

gestures, in friendly conversation; mincing gestures, in serious

conversation; rapid movements of the person, sitting or standing, and

who seems to be performing a sort of a dance--all these are equally

great faults against propriety and good taste.

We should not absolutely condemn gestures, which, according to the Abbé

Delille, give physiognomy to our conversation. Moderate action

corresponding to our words, and by turns a little comic, lively, and

graceful, are allowable, and even indispensable. The left hand must not

move, but a significant and exact co-operation of the right hand, should

never be wanting in conversation: but I must censure dialogists, who put

their hand into their pockets or work-bags, who always rest them joined

or crossed, without making any gesture. Such persons give themselves the

air of automatons, while, on the other hand, excessive gesticulators,

have the appearance of madmen.

Those persons who in conversing, violently seize hold of the arm of

their chair; play with little objects which come under their hands; who

amuse themselves by scratching or defacing furniture, turning their hat

backwards and forwards, twisting and untwisting the strings of their

bag, or the ends of their cravat, are, without doubt, ignorant how much

opposed to politeness, are these degrees of familiarity, childishness

and embarrassment. I will briefly add, that those who are witnesses of

all these ridiculous actions, ought never to notice them, unless they

wish to be still more ridiculous themselves.

SECTION III.

_Of the Talent of Listening to Others._

To converse, is not to talk continually, as prattlers suppose; it is to

listen and speak in our turn; we must not acquit ourselves the less well

in the one than in the other. To do this, we should attend half of the

time to the person who is addressing us, (on this account it is impolite

to do any work while talking;) if they hesitate or are embarrassed, you

should appear not to notice it, and in case you are a little acquainted,

after a few moments, you should, in a very modest manner, supply the

word which seems to have escaped them. If they are interrupted by any

incident, when the cause of the interruption shall have ceased, you will

not wait until they resume the conversation, but with a smile of

benevolence, and an engaging gesture, request them to proceed; _please

to continue; you were just saying?_--If we are obliged in this manner,

to palliate any such interruption, much more, ought we never to allow

ourselves to be the cause of it. This is so rigorous a rule, that if,

in the warmth of conversation, two persons commence speaking at once,

both ought to stop immediately, when they perceive it, and each, while

excusing themselves, to decline proceeding. It is proper for the one

worthy of the most respect to resume the conversation.

If a person shall relate anything to you, who, without having any

pleasantry, makes attempts at it; and without being affecting, endeavors

to move you, however wearied you may be, appear pleased and assume an

air of interest. If the narrator wanders into long digressions, have

patience to let him extricate himself alone from the labyrinth of his

story. If the history is interminable, be resigned, and do not appear

less attentive. This condescension is especially to be observed, if you

are listening to an elderly or respectable person. If the merciless

story-teller is your equal or friend, you may say to him, in order to

induce him to finish his narration, _and finally_--

Novices in the customs of the world, think they can abruptly interrupt a

conversation which is begun, by asking to have some incidents, which

they have not understood, explained, or by making the person who is

telling the story repeat the names; this should not be done until after

some consideration, and in the most polite manner. If the narrator

pronounces badly; if you see that other hearers are in the same

situation as yourself; if you foresee that for want of having followed

him in his narration, you will not be able to reply with politeness, you

can in this case, interrupt; but in some such manner as this; _I ask

your pardon, Sir, I fear I have lost some part of your interesting

conversation, will you be kind enough to repeat it_, &c. It is necessary

also, to choose a favorable moment, as for instance, when the narrator

pauses, hesitates for a word, or stops to take his handkerchief.

When a person relates to you a plain falsehood, the art of listening

becomes embarrassing, for if you seem to believe it, you would pass for

a fool, and if you appear to doubt it, you will pass for an uncivil

person. An air of coldness, a slight attention, an expression like the

following, _That is astonishing_, will extricate you honorably from your

embarrassment; but when an event is narrated which is only

extraordinary, or not improbable, your manner should be otherwise. Your

countenance should express astonishment, and you should reply by a

phrase of this kind; _If I did not know your strict regard for the

truth, or if any person but you had told me this, I should have hardly

believed it._ Under no circumstances should you interrupt him.

It happens sometimes that you foresee some incident in an interesting

story; and the pleasure that you find in this; the desire of showing

that you have guessed correctly, and the intention of proving how much

you are interested, induce you to interrupt suddenly in this manner, _I

see it, it is so, exactly_. An interruption of this kind, although well

meant and natural, will offend old persons, who like to tell a story at

full length, and will confound formal narrators, who will be in despair

that a phrase is taken from them which they had intended for effect;

these interruptions are only allowable among our intimate friends, or

inferiors, for otherwise you will have an ill-humored answer to your _I

see it_, &c. as with a triumphant air, _egad, but you can't see it_, &c.

which is always embarrassing.

The worst kind of interruption of all others, is that which hauteur

dictates. A clever person seizing hold of a story which another is

telling, and with the intention of making it more lively, becomes,

notwithstanding his eloquence, a model of impertinence and vulgarity.

It is, doubtless, hard to see a fool spoil a good anecdote, of which he

might have made something interesting; but if we should not be

restrained by politeness from expressing our feelings, we ought to be by

interest. Now hearers of delicacy will remain silent to the conclusion

of the recital, and will address themselves with good feelings to the

poor narrator who is injured in his rights.

Interruption is pardonable if it is made to prove or clear up a fact in

favor of a person who is absent. When they accuse you, you can,

according to strict rules, interrupt by an exclamation, but it is better

to do it by a gesture.

There is often much art and grace in listening, while you gesticulate

gently; for example, by counting upon the fingers; by making a gesture

of surprise; by a motion of assent, or an exclamation. This is a tacit

manner of saying, _ah, I recollect, you are right_, and charms the

narrator without interrupting him.

In a lively, animated and friendly dialogue, we can interrupt each other

by turns, in order to finish a sentence which is begun, or to improve an

epithet; this contributes to vivacity in discourse, but it ought not,

however, to be too often repeated.

There are many shoals to be avoided in listening, and which always

betray inexperience in society. To say from time to time to the

narrator, _Yes, yes_, by nodding the head, making motions with the hand,

a custom of old persons, and which is a good representation of a

pendulum; to keep the eyes fixed and the mouth gaping open; to have an

air of an absent person or of one in a reverie; to point the finger at

persons designated by the narrator; to gape without concealing by the

hand or the handkerchief, which is by no means flattering to the

speaker; to cast your eye frequently towards the clock--all these habits

are offences against good _ton_.

SECTION IV.

_Of Pronunciation._

Pronunciation is still more indispensable in conversation than

elocution; for indeed before selecting our expressions, we must make

them understood, and one can do this but imperfectly if he pronounces

badly. From this fault arise forced repetitions, the loss of what is

appropriate, fatigue, disgust, the impatience of the two persons

speaking, and in fine, all the sad results of deafness. Should we not

use every effort to rid ourselves of this?

The first, the greatest impediment to pronouncing well, is volubility.

By speaking too fast, we speak confusedly, and utter inarticulate and

unintelligible sounds, and this, without dispute, is of all the faults

in pronunciation, the most insupportable. We know very well, that to

speak too slowly, and as they say, to listen to our own words, is a

caprice which seems to denote pride or nonchalance; and that in certain

cases it is necessary to speak quickly; but we ought never to speak

precipitately, even on subjects which require us to be brief. Besides

the physical inconvenience, indistinctness has other moral

inconveniences: it supposes heedlessness, loquacity, or foolishness.

Next comes hesitancy, which is little less troublesome, for it fills the

conversation with ridiculous and painful efforts. This defect which is

sometimes owing to the organization, happens still more frequently from

neglecting to think before we speak, from timidity, from some lively

emotion which obliges us to stammer, or from a formal anxiety to make

use of select terms. This last motive is almost an excess. With the

intention of pleasing persons, you weary them by repetitions, by

far-fetched mincing words, and in order to appear clever, you render

yourself excessively annoying.

The habits acquired in childhood and in small towns, and a provincial

accent, are frequently obstacles to good pronunciation; let us instance

some examples of this. It is not uncommon to hear, even among those who

are considered as correct speakers, in general, such a misuse of words

as the following: _Me_ for _I_, _Miss_ for _Mrs._, _set_ for _sit_, _sat

out_ for _set out_, _expect_, (of a passed event;) _lay_ for _lie_,

_shew_ for _showed_, _would_ for _should_, _hadn't ought_ for _ought

not_, &c. As to accent, each province has its peculiarities. To

discover it, to shun it, and to modify it by an opposite effort, are the

means of avoiding these shoals; but however ridiculous we may appear in

running upon them continually, we are a hundred times less so than those

people who, like true pedagogues, stop you in the midst of an affecting

recital, to repeat with a sardonic smile, a vulgar phrase, a word badly

pronounced, or a wrong accent which happens to escape you.

Not only among persons of good society, should we condemn pedantry in

pronunciation, but we ought, moreover, with Rousseau, to blame

over-nicety of pronunciation or _purism_. He could not tolerate (and

many others like him,) those people so particular in sounding every

letter of a word.[14]

Besides a general accent, there is also a particular accent, which gives

a shade to the words, when we express a sentiment. We feel all its

delicacy and its charm, but we feel also that it ought to be in perfect

harmony with the language; that it ought to be free from all

affectation, and all exaggeration. To utter hard things in a tone of

mildness; to display in a humble voice proud pretensions; to open a

political discussion in a caressing tone; to recount an affair of

pleasantry with a melancholy accent,--is ridiculous in the highest

degree. It is no less so, to force the accent, to pervert it into irony;

or to introduce into discourse, a sort of declamation or tone.

We cannot judge by the accent of a person who speaks too high or too

low, but we decide, in the first case, that he is vulgar, and in the

second, that he is disdainful.

[14] The examples in the original, are the final letters of the words,

_tabac_, _sang_, _estomac_. In English, some persons are as

scrupulous in the distinct pronunciation of every letter in such

words as _extra-ordinary_, _Wed-nes-day_, &c.--_T._

SECTION V.

_Of Correctness in Speaking._

_'Surtout qu'en vos discours la langue révérée.'_

In addressing this advice to readers, we shall beware of considering

them as strangers to the rules of grammar; it is so shameful at the

present day to be ignorant of one's own language, that it would not be

less so, to suspect others of not knowing it; but although we may not be

deprived of this indispensable knowledge, it is still necessary

carefully to beware of contracting bad habits in language; of using bad

phrases, and even of using terms of which we know not the import; a

little study and attention will afford a certain remedy to the

embarrassment which we might experience.

Young people cannot too much guard against these faults, which show an

education that has been little attended to. They will arrive at it by

studying a good grammarian, and by paying attention to the sense of

their words.

If, in the silence of the study, we have much trouble in rendering

correctly a long sentence, how must it be in the world, when the

earnestness of conversation prevents us from reflecting? To make long

phrases, is to be willing to make mistakes in language; and if we take

time to present these interminable sentences in a correct form, we only

appear the more clumsy, or the more pretending, for conversation ought

never to seem labored, and the expression and the thoughts ought to be

of a simultaneous casting.

Avoid the pronouns _who_, _which_, particularly when they are

interrogatives; for although the grammar does not absolutely condemn

their frequency, yet as it is useless and disagreeable to the ear, we

should endeavor to avoid it. Thus, instead of _who is it who did such a

thing?_--_what is this thing that is here?_ say, _who did such a

thing?_--_what is this thing?_

Persons who are careful of their conversation, avoid, as faults of

language, expressions which certainly do not deserve this title, but

which injure the clearness, elegance, and harmony of conversation. Thus

they will abstain from uniting those words which, being in conflict as

to their meaning and pronunciation, make an ambiguity, except when

written. They carefully beware of accumulating synonymes and epithets

profusely, or at least, of forgetting with regard to these last, the

laws of gradation; of multiplying adverbs, which burden and weaken

discourse; they pay great attention to the requirements of euphony, and,

in order to this, avoid bringing near to each other, words of similar

sound, and of repeating similar words even of the same meaning, such as

_at present we offer a present_, _it does a good deal of good_.

These scrupulous and privileged talkers are particularly careful of the

connecting particles, for they know how much their omission injures

euphony; how it causes persons who are little charitable, to believe

that it is a covering, under which are adroitly concealed doubt or

ignorance, and this opinion is not always a prejudice.

I had forgotten to say that our skilful talkers endeavor not to furnish,

by fortuitous coincidences of words, opportunities for puns; that in the

mode of their conversation, they avoid rhymes so unfortunate and even

ridiculous in prose; that they dread repetitions of phrases, and axioms,

as the repetitions of words; that by short and judicious pauses, they

mark the punctuation in the spoken as in the written language; finally,

that they endeavor to render their conversation clear, correct and

elegant; but these talking-models would be in less danger of defeating

their object, if they had less of the precise air of a pedagogue. So far

from this, if a grammatical error escapes them, they quickly correct it,

but with ease and gaiety. If they hear a gross grammatical error, they

do not allow themselves even a smile, or a look which could indicate

their feeling, or trouble the one guilty of the error.

CHAPTER VI.

_Of the Moral Observances in Conversation._

_Goodness, moderation and decorum_--these are the motto and the soul of

moral propriety in conversation.

A solicitude to be always agreeable and obliging; of observing a proper

medium in everything; of respecting the rights of others, even in the

most trifling things; susceptibility for every thing which is connected

with delicacy, piety, and modesty--all these qualities which belong to

politeness, are included in these expressive words; _goodness_,

_moderation_, _decorum_.

SECTION I.

_Of Formal and Vulgar Usages._

In the first rank of customary formalities, we place those concerning

information about the health. We shall, necessarily, have little to say

on this head; there are, however, some little rules which are not to be

neglected.

It is proper to vary the phraseology of these formal questions, as much

as possible; and we must abstain from them entirely, towards a superior,

or a person with whom we are but little acquainted, for such inquiries

presuppose some degree of intimacy. In the last case, there is a method

of manifesting our interest, without violating etiquette; it consists in

making these inquiries of the domestics, or of other persons of the

house, and of saying afterwards when introduced; 'I am happy Sir, to

hear that you are in good health.'

Custom forbids a lady to make these inquiries of a gentleman, unless he

is ill or very aged. To put a corrective upon this mark of regard, a

lady who addresses a gentleman, should be earnest in her inquiries of

the health of his family, however little intimacy she may have with

them. Many persons ask this question mechanically, without waiting for

the answer, or else hasten to reply, before they have received it. This

is in bad _ton_. Inquiries about the health, it is true, are frequently

unimportant, but they should appear to be dictated by attention and

kindness. We must not however be deceived, but be careful not to mention

a slight indisposition to persons who are strangers to us, because

their interest can be only formal.

After we are informed of the health of the person we are visiting, it is

proper to inquire of them in relation to the health of their families;

but it would be wearisome to them, to make a long enumeration of the

members who compose the family. We can put a general question,

designating the most important members. In case of the absence of near

relations, we ask the person we are visiting, if they have heard from

them lately, if the news is favorable. They, on their part, ask the same

of us.

When you are not on visits of great ceremony, at the time of taking

leave, you are commonly desired to give the compliments and salutations

of the persons you are visiting to those with whom you live, then you

should reply briefly, but give them assurances of your regard, and thank

them.

Politeness infuses into visits of some little ceremony, a coloring of

modesty, grace, and deference, which should be preserved with the

greatest care.

In speaking, it is always proper to give the name of _Sir_, _Madam_, or

_Miss_, and if the sentence is somewhat long, the title ought to be

repeated. If the question is with regard to answering in the affirmative

or negative, we ought never to say roughly _yes_ or _no_.

If the person addressed has a title, or that which he has from his

profession, we should give it him, as _Count_, _Doctor_, &c. In case we

meet with many persons of the same profession, we can then distinguish

them, adding their name to the title.

A lady will not say, my husband, except among intimates; in every other

case, she should address him by his name, calling him _Mr._ It is

equally good _ton_ that except on occasions of ceremony, and while she

is quite young, to designate him by his christian name.

But when one speaks to a gentleman of the lady to whom he is married, he

should not say _your wife_, unless he is intimately acquainted, but

_Mrs. such-a-one_, is the most proper. The rules of politeness in this

respect, are the same in speaking of the husband.

When we speak of ourself and another person, whether he is absent or

present, propriety requires us to mention ourselves last. Thus we should

say _he and I_, _you and I_.

When you relate a personal occurrence, the circumstances connected with

which are honorable to yourself, and a distinguished person had also a

share in the honor, you should only mention him, and instead of the

plural form, _we resolved_, _we did such a thing_, you should forget

yourself, and say, _Mr. N. resolved, or did such a thing so and so_.

Delicacy will dictate this degree of modesty to you, and your superior

in his turn will proclaim at his own expense, your merit on the

occasion.

We know that the word _false_ is not to be found in the dictionary of

politeness, and that when we are obliged to deny the assertion of any

one, we employ apologetical forms. The most proper ones are such as the

following: _I may be mistaken_, _I am undoubtedly mistaken, but,..._ _Be

so good as to excuse my mistake, but it seems to me,..._ _I ask pardon,

but I thought_, &c. Those persons are but ill-bred, who think to soften

down a denial merely by expressions of doubt. They say, _if what you

advance is true_, _if what madam says is positive_, &c. With these

forms, they think they comply with the rules of politeness. It is

incivility with affectation.

However persons may say invidiously that forms avail much in the world,

I agree with them, but in quite another sense.

We should never ask a thing of any one without saying, _will you have

the goodness_, _will you do me the favor_, _will you be so good_, &c.

In a circle, we should not pass before a lady; and should never present

any thing by extending the arm over her, but we pass round behind, and

present it. In case we cannot do it, we say, _I ask your pardon_, &c.

To a question which we do not fully comprehend, we never answer, _Ha?

What?_ but, _Be so good as_, &c. _Pardon me, I did not understand._

Never refuse with disdain a pinch of snuff, and rather than disoblige

people, take one, even if you throw it away, after having pretended to

take it. Beware of presenting to ladies, in balls or assemblies, a box

of _sweet things_, under penalty of having the air of a caricature.

If you strike against any one in the least, ask pardon for it

immediately. The other should at the same time answer you, _It is

nothing, nothing at all_, &c., even if the blow should have been

violent.

It is customary to employ the few moments of a visit of mere politeness,

in looking at the portraits which adorn the fireplace, and even taking

them down, if you are invited to do it. It would be the extreme of

impoliteness, to say that they were flattered, or to pretend to

recognize in the portrait of a young lady, the likeness of an elderly

lady, or of one less favored by nature. It would moreover be improper to

make long compliments; indirect, and ingenious praise, is all that is

proper.

SECTION II.

_Of Questions, and frequently recurring Expressions._

It is an axiom of propriety that we should never speak of ourselves,

(except to intimate friends) and that we should converse with strangers

about themselves, and everything which can interest them. Questions are

therefore necessary, but they demand infinite delicacy and tact, in

order neither to fatigue nor ever wound the feelings. If, instead of

expressing a mild and heartfelt interest, you ask a dry question

dictated by a cold curiosity; if you seem to pay no attention to the

answers which you call forth; if you mal-adroitly take a commanding

tone; if you prolong without bounds this kind of conversation; if,

perceiving that you are embarrassed, and that you endeavor to save

yourself by an evasive answer, instead of keeping silence, you witness

the foolish regrets of your indiscretion; be assured that both your

questions and yourself will be considered as a torment.

Madame Necker ingeniously observes that these favorite and frequently

repeated terms with which we fill our conversation, serve, ordinarily as

a mark of people's character. 'Thus,' says she, 'those who exceed the

truth are in the habit of saying, _You may rely upon it, it is the

truth_; long talkers say, _In a word, to be brief_; and the proud say,

_Without boasting_,' &c. This striking observation is well founded, and

consequently we ought to take good care not to let people into the

secret of our peculiarities.

But, independently of this motive, it is necessary for us carefully to

avoid frequently recurring words, as in time, habit multiplies them to

an inconceivable degree. They embarrass and overwhelm our conversation,

turn away the attention of those who listen to us, and render us

importunate, and ridiculous, without our being able to perceive it.

If habitual terms, which on no other account are reprehensible, can

become so troublesome, what results may these trite phrases, trivial

expressions, and vulgar transitions produce, when they become frequent!

SECTION III.

_Of Narrations, Analysis, and Digressions._

There are many conditions indispensable to the success of a narrative.

These conditions are, first, novelty; the best stories weary when they

are multiplied too much, because every one wishes to be an actor in his

turn upon the stage of the world. So that, when you have anything

excellent to relate, consult less your own desire to tell it, than the

wishes of others to hear you. There are but too many people who discover

the secret of wearying while telling very good things, on account of

their too great eagerness to tell them.

The next thing is to take a suitable opportunity. Let your narration

spring naturally from the conversation; let it explain a fact, or come

in support of an opinion, but let it never appear to be introduced by

the foolish pleasure of talking, or by a not less foolish desire of

making a display of talent. Remember that the most meagre recitals, when

they are àpropos, frequently please more than the best things in the

world, when they are said out of time. And even endeavoring to

monopolize the conversation is in bad _ton_, particularly for young

persons and ladies, especially if it is but a few moments since they

occupied the attention of the company. It is an agreeable and modest

mark of propriety to request some one to relate an anecdote of the day,

of which you have made mention, and the circumstances of which you

desire to know. This is well suited to persons of distinguished talents.

The person called upon, bows and excuses himself with a few words

before acceding to your request.

It is of all importance that the language correspond to the different

forms which the narration requires; that, under pretext of adorning our

story, we do not wander into far-fetched comparisons, dull details, or

interminable dialogues; that if we relate anything amusing or striking,

we should observe the utmost seriousness, and finally, before commencing

a recital of this kind, we keep in mind these lines of Lafontaine;

Il ne faut jamais dire aux gens,

Ecoutez un bon mot, oyez une merveille,

Savez-vous si les écoutans

En feront une estime à la vôtre pareille?

When, for want of observing this, as well as many other similar rules,

narrators fail of the expected effect, and think to be able to tell it

over again, and remarking on the comic part of the story, and laboring

to repeat it thus;--_Do you not think this excellent, wonderful?_ Alas!

they only add to their own defeat, and to the ennui of their poor

hearers.

If one relates an anecdote which you already know, permit him to finish

it, and do not in any way draw off the attention of those who are

listening. If your opinion is asked, give it frankly, and without

wishing to appear better informed than the narrator himself. Still

farther; if you happen to be in tête-à-tête with the same narrator,

observe the same silence, and listen with an air of interest, and if he

happens to impart to you what he related the preceding day, which he had

from you yourself, you should appear to listen with equal interest, as

if for the first time. Frequently, in the midst of a recital, the

narrator, through forgetfulness, hesitates, and thinks that he can

recall it. Look at him attentively. If he is in doubt, declare that you

are altogether ignorant of the subject in question. If his memory

returns, request him to continue, at the same time saying; _I listen to

you always with new pleasure_. This delicate politeness is particularly

to be observed towards old persons.

When your narrations have had success, keep a modest countenance; leave

others to point out the striking parts which have pleased them. The

surest means of not having the approbation of others, in actions as well

as other things, is to solicit it, whether it be by looks, or by words.

As every hearer is obliged to listen or understand without objecting,

the consequence is, that we should _feel our ground_ before speaking,

and ask if such or such a thing is known to the company. When a story

has been published in the newspapers, so that it is not entirely new,

or seems borrowed from a compilation of _anas_, if we attribute it to

some person of our acquaintance, (of course one that is absent,) an

ineffable ridicule very properly stigmatizes the narrator.

We come now to what seems to me the most difficult part of conversation,

and if you are not sure of being able to class your ideas with

regularity, to express them with much clearness, and an easy elegance,

do not have the temerity to wish to analyze a book, or a dramatic piece.

You would be laying up for yourself a rude mortification, which would

have an unfavorable influence on your _entrée_ into society. You would be

wrong, however, in concluding, that I condemn you to perpetual silence;

I only wish to inspire you with a salutary diffidence, in order to

preserve you from such a rude check, and to put it in your power some

future day to answer, in this particular, the wishes of a distinguished

and brilliant assembly.

Begin by putting down upon paper a hasty sketch of a short piece, as for

instance a _vaudeville_, or a little comedy. You will do this until,

being sure of the manner in which you would embrace the _ensemble_, and

dispose of the details, you can produce it without embarrassment. When

arrived at this point, abstain from these kinds of analysis, which

though indeed more correct, seem labored. They have besides less

freedom, appropriateness, and grace.

Know this, and remember it well, that every other preparation than

thinking what you are about to say, will make you acquire two

intolerable faults, affectation and stiffness.

To conclude, I give this advice only to those persons who, by a quick

and penetrating perception, by a love of the fine arts, and by a

peculiar readiness, find themselves able to speak properly of literary

productions.

Those who are less engaged in these things, should content themselves

with simply and briefly explaining a subject, and of mentioning the

emotion they felt; with speaking of some brilliant passage, and adding

that they do not pretend to pronounce judgment.

The first degree of digression is the parenthesis; provided it is short,

natural, and seldom repeated; and that you take care to announce it

always; and finally, in order not to abuse it, you should make a skilful

use of it. The second degree of digression becomes more nice, for it

includes those accessory reflections, those common but agreeable and

well-settled expressions; those general or particular allusions, which

are only to be used with a peculiar emphasis, which is to language what

the italic character is to printing. This method of speaking in italics

may be striking and artless; but it often becomes obscure and trivial;

the habit is dangerous, and one should use this difficult digression

only before intimate friends.

We now come to the third degree, to what is properly called digression;

most frequently it is involuntary. Often in a lively and animated

dialogue, the impetus of conversation carries you, as well as the person

with whom you are conversing, far from the point from which you started.

If it is a question of pleasure or interest, return to your point by

employing a polite turn, as, _Pray let us not lose sight of our

business_. But if it is an affair of nothings succeeding nothings, let

it flow on.

Voluntary digression, when it is not a mere work of loquacity, may be

employed in serious discourse, as political, philosophical, or moral

discussions; but it is important to treat it with infinite reserve, and

care, and never to introduce a personal apology, or a domestic incident,

altogether out of place, as those persons do, who, in narrating any

event relative to an individual, recount his life, their connexion with

him, or his whole family, and make the event of an hour remind us of

ages.

Lawyers, literary people, military men, travellers, invalids and aged

ladies, ought to have a prudent and continual distrust of the abuse of

digressions.

SECTION IV.

_Of Suppositions and Comparisons._

The two shoals to be avoided in this form of language are directly

opposed to each other; the one is triviality, the other bombast.

The object of supposition, which is already antiquated, and sometimes

too simple, is to increase the force of reasoning, and to carry

conviction to the mind of the person who listens to you; comparison

tends to make an image, or to place before us the object described. When

both these qualities are regulated by reason, use, and taste, it is very

well; but how seldom is this the case!

They are not so used, if, in the course of a discussion, you suppose a

respectable person to supply the place of a madman, an ill-bred person,

or a robber; or, if you suppose him to be in a situation disgraceful or

even ridiculous. As, for example; _If you had been this bad person_; or,

_Suppose, that you had committed this base act_; or, _that you should be

laughed at_, &c.

They are also misplaced, whenever, being satisfied with avoiding

disagreeable comparisons, we endeavor to mark out some one as

contemptible, by comparing his exterior with that of some other person

in the company. When we say; _This unfortunate man is of your size, sir;

he has your traits, your physiognomy_, &c.

They are also misplaced, if used in the presence of people of a

profession upon which the injurious comparisons fall, as when we say;

_As quackish as a doctor_; _greedy as an attorney_; _loquacious as a

lawyer_, &c.

Finally, politeness and taste cannot at all exist in comparisons, if

they are common or trivial, as when we say, _black as the chimney-back_,

_high as one's hand_, &c.; or, if they are in a turgid and pretending

style, such as, _learned as the Muses_, _fresh as the meadows_, &c.

SECTION V.

_Of Discussions and Quotations._

Whatever be the subject of conversation, propose your opinion with

modesty; defend it with sangfroid and a mild tone if you are opposed;

yield with a good grace if you are wrong; yield also, although you are

in the right, if the subject of discussion is of little importance, and

especially if the one who opposes you is a lady, or an old person.

Moreover, if love of truth or the desire of affording instruction force

you to enter into a discussion, do it with address and politeness. If

you do not bring over your opponent to your own opinion, you will at

least gain his esteem.

But if you have to do with one of those people who, possessed with a

mania of discussion, commence by contradicting before they hear, and who

are always ready to sustain the contrary opinion, yield to him; you will

have nothing to gain with him. Be assured that the spirit of

contradiction can be conquered only by silence.

The insupportable pedantry of a cloud of quoters, without tact or

talent, has justly, for a long time, thrown quotations into disrepute;

but if they are well chosen, few, and short; if they are à-propos,

Qui fuit comme le temps, qui plaît comme les grâces;

if they are altogether new, and wielded by a person possessed of

modesty, elegance, and taste, having a perfect knowledge of the world,

quotations have much success and charm; but without these conditions,

there is little safety; and in this matter there can be no mediocrity;

you will either be a good model, or an insupportable pedant. Consider if

you will rashly run this chance, especially on making your début in

society, when young persons ought so carefully to avoid making a parade

of a vain college erudition, and not seek the reputation of a savant by

employing words borrowed from foreign languages, or scientific terms

unknown in good society.

SECTION VI.

_Of Pleasantry, Proverbs, Puns, and Bon Mots._

If society is not a school for exercising pedantry, neither is it an

arena for the use of those perversely clever people, who think

themselves furnished with a patent to insult with grace. Whatever may be

the keenness of their sarcasms, the piquancy of their observations, or

the smile which they excite in me, I do not the less refuse to allow to

those caustic spirits the name of polite persons, or of good _ton_; for,

in politeness there must be good feeling. But those who incessantly

study to trouble and wound people, without taking any precaution except

to deprive them of the right or means of complaining; who are ready to

catch at the least error, to exaggerate it, to clothe it in the most

bitter language, to present it in the most ridiculous light; who meanly

attack those who cannot answer them, or expose themselves every day for

a sarcasm to sport with their own life and that of another in a

duel--such people, what are they?--in truth, I dare not say.

One such picture, which, certainly is not highly colored, would render

pleasantries always odious; but to indulge in pleasantry is not to

resemble such mischievous persons, thank heaven, it is far otherwise;

for mild, kind, and harmless pleasantry should be taken in good part

even by those who are the subjects of it; it is a friendly, and sportive

contest, in which severity, jealousy, and resentment should never

appear; whenever you perceive the least trace of them, the pleasantry is

at an end; desist, then, the moment they appear.

As to hoaxing, that caustic of fools; as to that silly gaiety, excited

by the candor or politeness of people whom you falsely cause to believe

the most foolish things, because they do not make known to you that they

see through this pleasure of stupid fellows, I have nothing to say of

them, except that I have too good an opinion of my reader to suppose

that he does not despise them as I do.

Popular quotations and proverbs, as well as other quotations, require

some care; and, except in familiar conversation, are altogether

misplaced. If they are frequent, conversation becomes a tedious

gossipping; if introduced without a short previous remark, one of two

things will take place, they will either prevent the speaker from being

understood, or they will give him the air of Sancho Panza. But the

previous remark, however, need be but short; _as the proverb says_, _as

the wisdom of nations has it_. A proverb well applied, and placed at the

end of a phrase, frequently makes a very happy conclusion.

I only speak to censure; I entreat my readers not to suffer themselves

to be the manufacturers of puns, and to despise this talent of fools and

childish means to excite a passing laugh. Not that we cannot repeat in

good company one of those rare political bon mots which are happy in

every respect; nor that we ought to deprecate this kind of pleasantry

before people who are fond of them, still less to tell them what they

hear every day, _That is poor_; to have taste, does not authorize us to

be impolite.

We must be much more severe upon another kind of équivoques; namely,

those which offend modesty. Propriety allows you, and it even requires

you not to listen to, but even to interrupt an ill-bred person who

importunes you with those indecent witticisms which a man of good

society ought always to avoid; they are those by aid of which we cover

certain pleasantries with a veil so transparent, that they are the more

observed. What pleasure can we find in causing ladies to blush, and in

meriting the name of a man of bad society?

There are those who think that they may allow themselves every kind of

pleasantry before certain persons; but a man of good _ton_ ought to

observe it wherever he is. We might quote more than one example of

persons, who have lost politeness of manners and of language by assuming

the habits and conversation of all kinds of society into which chance

may have carried them. It requires but a moment to lose those delicate

shades of character which constitute a man of the world, and which cost

us so much labor to acquire.

It is a great error to suppose that we must always shine in

conversation, and that it is better to make ourselves admired by a

lively and ready repartee, than to content ourselves sometimes with

silence, or with an answer less brilliant than judicious.[15] We must

not imagine that all traits of wit are in the class of politeness; a

vain and triumphant air spoils a bon mot; moreover, when you repeat a

thing of this kind of which you are the author, beware of saying so to

your auditors.

[15] That a reply may be truly pleasing, it is necessary that he who

makes it has a right so to do, and that we may quote it without

doing him any wrong; otherwise, we should laugh at the reply,

and despise the author of it. There are replies which are

pleasing in the mouth of a military man, but which would be

ridiculous in the mouth of a civil magistrate. A young lady may

make lively and brilliant repartees, which would be insupportable

in a woman in the decline of life; as the latter might make such

as would be unsuitable in a young lady.

SECTION VII.

_Of Eulogiums, Complainings, Improprieties in general, and Prejudices._

One of the most improper things, is to praise to excess and

unseasonably. Extravagant and misplaced eulogiums neither honor the one

who bestows them, nor the persons who receive them.

An infallible method of giving a meritorious person the air of a fool,

is to address him to his face and without disguise, to load him with

exaggerated eulogiums; it is indeed not a little embarrassing to reply

in such a case. If we remain silent, we appear to be inhaling the

incense with complacency; if we repel it, we only seem to excite it the

more. Thus we see, in such a case, and even among very clever persons

too, those who reply by silly exclamations and by rude assertions. _You

were laughing at me_, they say; this cannot be tolerated; it is to be

supposed that the person who praises you is incapable of such an act. I

think it would be better to say, _I did not know you were so kind_ (or

so good) _I should indeed think you were joking me_. Or else, we should

say, _your partiality blinds you_.

Persons who are unacquainted with the world, commonly think that they

cannot address a lady without first assailing her with compliments. This

is a mistake, gentlemen, and I can with relation to this point, reveal

to you what my sex prefers to these vulgar eulogiums.

It is in bad _ton_ to overwhelm with insipid flattery all women that we

meet, without distinction of age, rank or merit. These insipidities may

indeed please some of light and frivolous minds, but will disgust a

woman of good sense. Carry on with them a lively, piquant and varied

conversation; and remember that they have a too active imagination, a

too great versatility of disposition, to support conversation for a long

time upon the same subject.

But is it then necessary to proscribe eulogiums entirely? Not at

all--society has not yet arrived at that degree of philosophy; eulogiums

are and will for a long time be a means of success; but they should be

in the first place, true, or at least probable, in order not to have the

appearance of outrageous insults; they should be indirect and delicate,

that we may listen to them without being obliged to interrupt; and they

should be tempered with a sort of judgment, the skilful use of which, is

itself even a eulogium.

I repeat, as I have often said, let there be moderation in everything.

Should we not regard as gross and ridiculous language, that exaggeration

which we frequently hear used in praise as well as in censure? It seems

that true politeness in language consists principally in a certain

moderation of expressions. It is much better to cause people to think

more than we say, and not outrage language, and run the risk of going

beyond what we ought to say.

Under any circumstances, complaining has always a bad grace.

Banish from your complaints ill-nature and animosity; let your anger be

only an expression of the wrong you have suffered, and not of that which

you would cause; this is the surest means of gaining to your side

persons who would perhaps be doubtful whether to favor your adversary or

yourself.

Politeness is not less opposed to making excessive complaints to the

first person you meet, than to the frequent and extravagant eulogiums

which you bestow improperly upon those from whom you expect a favor in

return.

By the word improprieties, we generally understand all violations of

politeness. We, however, give to this word a particular and limited

sense. It signifies a want of due regard to, and a forgetfulness of, the

delicate attentions which seem to identify us with the situation of

others. We will mention some examples of these particular violations of

politeness. To accost sad people with a smiling face and sprightly

manners, which prove to them the little interest which you take in their

situation; to trouble by a whimsical and cross ill-humor, and by

misanthropic declamations, the pleasure of contented persons; to exalt

the advantages of beauty before aged ladies or those who are naturally

unfortunate; to speak of the power that wealth bestows in the presence

of people hardly arrived at mediocrity of fortune; to boast of one's

strength or health before a valetudinarian, &c.

The sense which we here give to the term _prejudices_ is still more

limited than that which we have just given to the expression

_improprieties_.

We do not mean to speak here of those erroneous judgments, acknowledged

as such, which though undermined, and shaken, are still respected by

that society which they torment. We wish only to admonish our fair

readers of those unfriendly prejudices of nation against nation, city

against city, and section against section; that malevolent disposition

which with a Parisian makes the name _provincial_, synonymous with

awkwardness and bad _ton_, and which, in the saloons of the Chausée

d'Antin, allows no favor to persons lodging in the Marais; because the

people of the Marais, provincials and Englishmen, do not consider it any

fault to return prejudice for prejudice, and contempt for contempt.

CHAPTER VII.

_Of Epistolary Composition._

Next to social communications by means of visits and conversation, are

communications by means of letters and billets. It is not only absence,

but a multiplicity of business, and a great number of relations which

give a very great extension to this part of our social interests.

Our readers have too much judgment to think that we wish to give them

lessons in style, or teach them how they should write letters of

friendship, of congratulation, of condolence, of apology, of

recommendations, of invitation, of complaint, or of censure. This

enumeration alone, shows the impossibility of it. Some general

reflections upon propriety in epistolary composition, and strict details

of the forms and ceremonial parts of letters, will compose this

important chapter.

SECTION I.

_Of Propriety in Letter Writing._

If in conversation we ought to attend to propriety of language, its

choice and graceful euphony, how much more is it necessary to endeavor

to make our style in writing clear, precise, elegant, and appropriate to

all subjects. Vivacity of discourse forces us frequently to sacrifice

happy though tardy expressions to the necessity of avoiding hesitancy;

but what is thus an obstacle in speaking, does not interfere with the

use of the pen. We ought, therefore, to avoid repetitions, erasing,

insertions, omissions, and confusion of ideas or labored construction.

If we write a familiar letter to an equal or a friend, these blemishes

may remain; but otherwise, we must commence our letter again.

The most exact observance of the rules of language is strictly

necessary; a fault of orthography, or an incorrect expression, are not

allowable, even in the least careful letter or the most unimportant

billet. Even correction is not admissible; for, besides being a blemish

to the letter, it betrays the ignorance or inattention of him who writes

it. For these reasons, it is well to make a rough draft, if we are

little accustomed to epistolary style, and if being very young, we

cannot perfectly remember the rules of syntax, and the dictionary. Some

persons, it is true, censure this precaution, which, say they, marks the

style with affectation and stiffness. This censure does not seem to me

well-founded. The loss of time which this method requires, is a more

real inconvenience; and for this reason, and on account of the

embarrassment with which we may be troubled, it is well to accustom

ourselves to writing a letter _extempore_ with neatness, elegance and

correctness.

The choice of materials for writing, without being very essential, is

yet necessary; to write on very coarse paper, is allowable only to the

most indigent; to use gilt edged and perfumed paper for letters of

business, would be ridiculous. The selection of paper ought always to be

in keeping with the person, the age, the sex, and the circumstances of

the correspondents. Ornamented paper, of which we have just spoken;

paper bordered with colored vignettes and embossed with ornaments in

relief upon the edges; and paper slightly colored with delicate shades,

are designed for young ladies, and those whose condition, taste, and

dignity, presuppose habits of luxury and elegance. Many distinguished

people, however, reasonably prefer simplicity in this thing, and make

use of very beautiful paper, but yet without ornament.

People of business, heads of companies or establishments, and persons of

distinction, with many titles, use paper printed at the top, that is to

say, having the name of their residence, the three first figures of the

date of the year, their address, and these words, _Mr. ----_, (here

follow the titles) to _Mr. ----_.

It is extremely impolite to write a letter upon a single leaf of paper,

even if it is a billet; it should be always double, even though we write

only two or three lines. It is still more vulgar to use for an envelope,

paper on which there are one or two words foreign to the letter itself,

whether they be written or printed.

Billets, letters folded lengthwise, and half-envelopes, are little used.

A folded letter, especially if written upon vellum paper, should be

pressed at the folds by means of a paper-folder.

The rules of politeness ought moreover to decide as to the expense of

postage. They require us to defray the expense of the letter if it is

written to distinguished persons, or to those of whom we ask any favor;

but it would be an incivility, and sometimes a want of delicacy, to do

it when we write to a friend, an acquaintance, or to persons of little

fortune, whose feelings we should fear to wound. We must therefore, in

order to save them the expense as well as to avoid dissatisfaction,

endeavor to make some excuse of business.

Letters for new year's day, and other holidays, are usually written

beforehand, in order to arrive on the previous or very same day. This is

particularly required towards relations; for friends and intimate

acquaintances, the following week will do, and for other persons, any

time within the month.

It is as indispensable to answer when you are written to, as when you

are spoken to, and the indolence which so many correspondents allow in

themselves, in this respect, is an incivility. And if after all they

decide to answer, they begin by apologies so constantly renewed, that

they become common-place. We must use much care that these excuses may

not be ridiculous. Conciseness, and some new terms of expression, are,

in this case, indispensable. The same observation is applicable in

making use of reproving terms.

Letters supply the place of visits, as we have seen, in bestowing

presents, or on occasions of marriages, funerals, &c.; to neglect to

write in a similar case, is gross impoliteness.

Two persons should not write in the same letter, by one writing upon the

first, and another upon the second leaf, except we are intimate with the

correspondent. The same is applicable to postscripts. It is not

allowable, except to familiar friends, to use expressions borrowed from

foreign languages, as for instance the phrase of the Italians, _I kiss

your hands_, &c. The language of men who write to ladies ought always to

have a polish of respect, with which the latter might dispense in

answering. Except on occasions of great ceremony, a lady ought not to

address to a man such phrases as, _I have the honor to be_, &c. while

the latter should use the most respectful terms, as _Deign, madam, to

allow me_; _allow me the honor of presenting you my respects_, &c.

You may use a lofty style towards persons to whom you owe respect; on

easy, trifling, or even jesting style, towards a friend; and a courteous

style towards ladies generally. You should not write in a trifling style

to persons of a higher standing. It sometimes happens that a man of

superior rank honors with his friendship a man of lower condition, and

is pleased that the latter writes to him without ceremony. In this case

we may use the privilege which is given us; but we must take care not to

abuse it, and to make known from time to time that we are ready to

confine ourselves within respectful bounds.

When you write upon any subject, consider it fully before putting it

upon paper, and treat of each topic in order, that you may not be

obliged to recur to any one again, after having spoken of another thing.

If you have many subjects to treat of in the same letter, commence with

the most important; for if the person to whom you write is interrupted

while reading it, he will be the more impatient to resume the reading,

however little interesting he may find it.

It is useful and convenient to begin a new paragraph at every change of

the subject.

After having written _Sir_ or _Madam_ at the top of the letter, we

should not commence with one of these phrases; _Sir, madam --, your

sister, has written me, that_. We should say, _I understand by a letter

which madam --, your sister, has written me_.

Take care also, when writing to a person worthy of respect, not to make

compliments to any one. But write to this third person whatever you wish

him to know.

Titles of respect, as _Lordship_, _Majesty_, _Highness_, _Excellency_,

_Honor_, _Madam_, &c. ought never to be abbreviated, either in writing

to the persons themselves, or to any one who has acquaintance with them.

Figures are used only for sums and dates; numbers of men, days, weeks,

&c. are to be written at length.

SECTION II.

_Of the Interior and Exterior Form of Letters._

The interior form of a letter comprehends the titles and qualities of

persons to whom it is proper to give them; the more or less courteous

phrases which we use; the more or less respectful manner with which the

commencement and body of the letter are to be arranged; and the more or

less humble terms which we are to use for the signature, the address or

the superscription.

The exterior form of a letter is what concerns the size of the paper;

the blank that we should leave between the _vedette_, (or line

containing only the name) and the first line; between the last line, the

appellation, and signature; the manner of folding the letter, and the

choice and mode of putting on the seal.

In addressing the pope, we say at the top of the letter, _Holy Father_,

or _Most Holy Father_; and instead of _You_, we should say, _Your

Holiness_; to a prince cardinal, _My Lord_, and _Your Most Eminent

Highness_.

To a cardinal, _My Lord_, and _Your Eminence_.

To an archbishop or bishop, _My Lord_, and _Your Grace_.

To an emperor or empress, we say, _Sire_, or _Madam_; and instead of

_You_, we say, _Your Imperial Majesty_.

To a king we also say, _Sire_, and _Your Majesty_.

To a queen, _Madam_, and _Your Majesty_.

To the brother of a king, _Your Royal Highness_.

To an elector of the empire, _Your Electoral Highness_.

To a sovereign prince, _Your Most Serene Highness_.

To a prince, _Your Highness_.

To an ambassador or minister, _Your Excellency_.

To the chancellor of France, _My Lord_, and _Your Lordship_.

The title _Excellency_ is not given to ladies.

Persons who have an exact knowledge of the language and usage of the

court, know what is the most proper manner of expressing themselves. We

will give some examples in which the different degrees of respect may be

readily perceived.

'I have received the letter with which you have been pleased to honor

me.'

'I have received the letter which you have done me the favor to write to

me, which you have done me the honor to write to me, which you have

taken the trouble to write to me.'

There are some persons who commence their letters with these words; _I

have received yours of the 12th current_; this is a fault; we should

say, _your letter_. The first is the style of those people who, being

pressed with business, are obliged to make abbreviations; and we must,

in the common customs of life, beware of imitating them in this respect.

We may say the same in respect to persons who write at the top of their

letters, '_I_ have received _your honored letter_ of such a date;' or,

'in answer to _your honored letter_;' or, '_I write you these few

words_.' All these forms are objectionable.

We should never repeat in the first sentence of a letter, the names _My

Lord_, _Sir_, or _Madam_, with which we began. But if we write to a

prince, or even to a minister, we should after the first line use the

words, _Your Majesty_, _Your Highness_, or _Your Excellency_, and repeat

them from time to time, in the course of the letter, if it is of some

length.

As to the conclusion of a letter, we should not say simply, _I am_,

without adding some such phrase as these; _With the most profound

respect_; _with profound respect_, _with the highest regard_, &c. To

persons who have the title of _majesty_, _highness_, _eminence_, &c. we

say, _I am your majesty's_, or _your highness's_, &c. _very humble_, &c.

The words _esteem_ and _affection_ are used only in letters to friends

or acquaintance, because they are too familiar; but when accompanied by

any words which relieve them, they do not offend one. As for example, we

can say, _I am with profound respect, and the highest esteem_, &c.

The following forms may be used with elegance;

Accept, Sir, the assurances of high consideration; be pleased to accept

the assurances, &c.

Letters of petition or request should be in folio, that is to say, upon

a sheet of paper in its full size; the margin should be half the breadth

of the page; the spaces and blanks which we ought to leave between the

upper edge of the paper and the _vedette_,[16] and between the _vedette_

and the first line, are very different, according to the degree of

inferiority or superiority. The greater these spaces are, the more

respect do they indicate. The first line ought always to begin below the

middle of the page, when we write to a person to whom we owe much

respect; but the second page should begin one line below the _vedette_.

A blank space should always be left between the last words of the

signature, and the lower edge of the paper. If there should not be

sufficient room, it would be better to carry one or two lines over to

the succeeding page, than to fail in this respect.

For a familiar letter, it has become fashionable to leave no margin at

all. It is, however, in these letters only that margins can be useful,

namely, in receiving a vertical line when all the paper is filled.

The date of a letter may be put at the beginning when we write to an

equal; but in writing to a superior, it should be at the end, in order

that the title at the head of the letter may be entirely alone. In

letters of business, on the contrary, it is necessary to date at the top

and on the first line, that persons may know conveniently, the

chronological order of their communications.

The date is often necessary to the understanding of many passages of

your letter, or to explain the sense of one which your correspondent may

have received at the same time from another person.

In a simple billet, we put the date of the day, _Monday_, &c. It is well

sometimes to add the hour.

Every letter to a superior ought to be folded in an envelope. It shows a

want of respect to seal with a wafer; we must use sealing-wax. Men

usually select red; but young ladies use gilt, rose, and other colors.

Both use black wax when they are in mourning. Except in this last case,

the color is immaterial, but not the size, for very large ones are in

bad taste. The smaller and more glossy, the better _ton_ they are.

Although sealing-wax is preferable, still we must sometimes avoid using

it; it is when we are afraid that the seal may be opened.

When the letter is closed with or without an envelope, we put only a

single seal upon it; but if the letter is large, we use two. Moreover,

if it contains important papers, it should have three seals or more,

according to the nature of the envelope. If a person takes charge of a

letter as a favor, it would be very impolite to put more than one seal

upon it. If the letter should be folded in such a manner that by partly

opening it at the end, its contents may be read, it would be equally

impolite to put a little wax upon the edges. We can use this precaution

only when the letter is sent by the post or by a domestic.

When we use no envelope, and the third page of the letter is all written

upon, we should leave a small blank space where the seal is to be put;

without this precaution, many very important words will be covered.

We should not seal a letter of respect with an antique device. It is

more polite to use our coat of arms or cipher.

Persons of taste, who have no coat of arms, adopt a seal bearing some

ingenious device, in keeping with their profession, sentiments, &c.