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MARTINE'S
HAND-BOOK OF ETIQUETTE,
AND
GUIDE TO TRUE POLITENESS.
A COMPLETE MANUAL FOR THOSE WHO DESIRE TO UNDERSTAND THE RULES OF GOOD
BREEDING, THE CUSTOMS OF GOOD SOCIETY, AND TO AVOID INCORRECT AND
VULGAR HABITS,
CONTAINING
_Clear and Comprehensive Directions for Correct Manners, Dress, and
Conversation_;
_Instructions for Good Behavior at Dinner Parties, and the Table, with
Hints on the Art of Carving and Taking Wine at Table_;
_Together with the Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Room, Evening
Parties_;
_Deportment in the Street and when Travelling_;
_And the Usages to be Observed when Visiting or Receiving Calls_.
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE ETIQUETTE OF COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE, DOMESTIC DUTIES, AND FIFTY-SIX
RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN GENERAL SOCIETY.
BY ARTHUR MARTINE.
NEW YORK:
DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by
DICK & FITZGERALD,
In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
CONTENTS.
General Observations 5
The Art of Conversation 8
General Rules for Conversation 24
On Dress 48
Introductions 57
Letters of Introduction 61
Dinner Parties 63
Habits at Table 67
Wine at Table 74
Carving 82
Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Room 93
Evening Parties 104
Visiting 113
Street Etiquette 127
Traveling 133
Marriage 136
Domestic Etiquette and Duties 144
On General Society 154
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
Politeness has been defined as an "artificial good-nature;" but it would
be better said that _good-nature is natural politeness_. It inspires us
with an unremitting attention, both to please others and to avoid giving
them offence. Its code is a ceremonial, agreed upon and established
among mankind, to give each other external testimonies of friendship or
respect. _Politeness_ and _etiquette_ form a sort of supplement to the
law, which enables society to protect itself against offences which the
_law_ cannot touch. For instance, the law cannot punish a man for
habitually staring at people in an insolent and annoying manner, but
_etiquette_ can banish such an offender from the circles of good
society, and fix upon him the brand of vulgarity. _Etiquette_ consists
in certain forms, ceremonies, and rules which the _principle of
politeness_ establishes and enforces for the regulation of the manners
of men and women in their intercourse with each other.
Many unthinking persons consider the observance of etiquette to be
nonsensical and unfriendly, as consisting of unmeaning forms, practiced
only by the _silly_ and the idle; an opinion which arises from their not
having reflected on the _reasons_ that have led to the establishment of
certain rules indispensable to the well-being of society, and without
which, indeed, it would inevitably fall to pieces, and be destroyed.
The true aim of politeness, is to make those with whom you associate as
well satisfied with themselves as possible. It does not, by any means,
encourage an impudent self-importance in them, but it does whatever it
can to accommodate their feelings and wishes in social intercourse.
Politeness is a sort of social benevolence, which avoids wounding the
pride, or shocking the prejudices of those around you.
The principle of politeness is the same among all nations, but the
ceremonials which etiquette imposes differ according to the taste and
habits of various countries. For instance, many of the minor rules of
etiquette at Paris differ from those at London; and at New York they may
differ from both Paris and London. But still the polite of every country
have about the same manners.
Of the manners and deportment of both ladies and gentlemen, we would
remark that a proper consideration for the welfare and comfort of others
will generally lead to a greater propriety of demeanor than any rules
which the most rigid master of etiquette could supply. This feeling,
however, is one that must be cultivated, for the promptings of nature
are eminently selfish, and courtesy and good-breeding are only
attainable by effort and discipline. But even courtesy has limits where
dignity should govern it, for when carried to excess, particularly in
manner, it borders on sycophancy, which is almost as despicable as
rudeness. To overburden people with attention; to render them
uncomfortable with a prodigality of proffered services; to insist upon
obligations which they do not desire, is not only to render yourself
disagreeable, but contemptible. This defect of manners is particularly
prevalent in the rural districts, where the intense effort to render a
visitor comfortable has exactly the contrary effect; besides, there are
those whose want of refinement and good breeding often leads them to an
unwarrantable familiarity, which requires coldness and indifference to
subdue.
Much misconstruction and unpleasant feeling arises, especially in
country towns, from not knowing what is "_expected_," or necessary to be
done on certain occasions, resulting sometimes from the prevalence of
local customs, with which the world in general are not supposed to be
acquainted. "To do in Rome as the Romans do," applies to every kind of
society. At the same time, you can never be expected to commit a serious
breach of manners because your neighbors do so.
But what you should do, and what not, in particular cases, you will
learn in the following chapters. I have only now to say, that if you
wish to be agreeable, which is certainly a good and religious desire,
you must both study how to be so, and take the trouble to put your
studies into constant practice. The fruit you will soon reap. You will
be generally liked and loved. The gratitude of those to whom you have
devoted yourself will be shown in speaking well of you; you will become
a desirable addition to every party, and whatever your birth, fortune,
or position, people will say of you, "He is a most agreeable and
well-bred man," and be glad to introduce you to good society. But you
will reap a yet better reward. You will have in yourself the
satisfaction of having taken trouble and made sacrifices in order to
give pleasure and happiness for the time to others. How do you know what
grief or care you may not obliterate, what humiliation you may not alter
to confidence, what anxiety you may not soften, what--last, but really
not least--what intense dullness you may not enliven? If this work
assist you in becoming an agreeable member of good society, I shall
rejoice at the labor it has given me.
THE ART OF CONVERSATION.
As the object of conversation is pleasure and improvement, those
subjects only which are of universal interest can be made legitimate
topics of pleasantry or discussion. And it is the gift of expressing
thoughts and fancies in a quick, brilliant, and graceful manner on such
topics,--of striking out new ideas, eliciting the views and opinions of
others, of attaching the interest of all to the subject discussed,
giving it, however trifling in itself, weight and importance in the
estimation of the hearers, that constitutes the great talent for
conversation. But this talent can never, we may safely aver, be
displayed except in a good cause, and when conversation is carried on in
a spirit of genuine charity and benevolence.
We should meet in society to please and be pleased, and not to display
cold and stately dignity, which is as much out of place, as all attempts
to shine by a skillful adherence to the fantastic rules of the
silver-fork school, are puerile and ludicrous. Such little things are
great to little persons, who are proud of having acquired by rote, what
the naturally elegant derive, in sufficient measure, from naturally just
feeling.
The power of preserving silence is the very first requisite to all who
wish to shine, or even please in discourse; and those who cannot
preserve it, have really no business to speak. Of course, I do not mean
the dull, ignorant, sulky, or supercilious silence, of which we see
enough in all conscience; but the graceful, winning and eloquent
silence. The silence that, without any deferential air, listens with
polite attention, is more flattering than compliments, and more
frequently broken for the purpose of encouraging others to speak, than
to display the listener's own powers. This is the really eloquent
silence. It requires great genius--more perhaps than speaking--and few
are gifted with the talent; but it is of such essential advantage, that
I must recommend its study to all who are desirous to take a share in
conversation, and beg they will learn to be silent, before they attempt
to speak.
Notwithstanding the praise here bestowed on silence, it must still be
explained that there are various modes of being silently rude. There is
the rude silence of disdain--of not hearing, of not even deeming your
words deserving attention or reply. These are minor and mere passive
modes of impertinence; the direct and active sort of silent rudeness is
to listen with a fixed and attentive stare on the speaker, and without
any necessity of raising the eyebrows--for that might be
precarious--show your utter amazement, that any one should think of thus
addressing a person of your rank, wealth, genius, or greatness. There
are of course various styles and degrees in all these modes of
impertinence, but they all originate in the same cause: ignorance of the
real facility of being rude, and a wish to acquire distinction by the
practice. It is idle to assert that every one can be rude if he likes;
for, if such were the fact, we should not see hosts of persons belonging
to what is termed good society, seeking fame and renown by various
shades and degrees of mere impertinence.
Never give short or sharp answers in ordinary conversation, unless you
aspire to gain distinction by mere rudeness; for they have in fact no
merit, and are only uncivil. "I do not know," "I cannot tell," are the
most harmless words possible, and may yet be rendered very offensive by
the tone and manner in which they are pronounced. Never reply, in answer
to a question like the following, "Did Mrs. Spitewell tell you how Miss
Rosebud's marriage was getting on?" "I did not ask." It is almost like
saying, I never ask impertinent questions, though you do; we learn
plenty of things in the world without having first inquired about them.
If you must say, you did not ask, say, that "you forgot to ask,"
"neglected it," or "did not think of it." We can always be ordinarily
civil, even if we cannot always be absolutely wise.
Except in mere sport and raillery, and where a little _extravaganza_ is
the order of the moment, always when you answer, or speak in reply to an
observation made, speak to the true and just import of what is said.
Leave quibbling of every kind to lawyers pleading at the bar for the
life of a culprit; in society and conversation it is invariably out of
place, unless when Laughter is going his merry round. At all other times
it is a proof of bad breeding.
You must not overstretch a proposition, neither must you overstretch or
spin out a jest, that has done its duty; for few can be made to rebound
after they have once come to the ground.
Another mode of being rude, is to collect, and have at command, all the
set phrases used by uncivil persons, in order to say what they fancy
very sharp and severe things. Such a collector, jealous perhaps of the
attention with which a pleasant guest is listened to, may break in upon
the most harmless discourse with the words, "I think you _lie_ under a
mistake." The term may in itself be harmless, but its application is at
all times rude, coarse and decidedly vulgar.
La Bruyere tells us that "rudeness is not a fixed and inherent vice of
the mind, but the result of other vices; it springs," he says, "from
vanity, ignorance, laziness, stupidity, jealousy, and inattention. It is
the more hateful from being constantly displayed in exterior deportment
and from being thus always visible and manifest; and is offensive in
character and degree according to the source from which it takes its
rise."
We next come to the loud talker, the man who silences a whole party by
his sole power of lungs. All subjects are alike to him; he speaks on
every topic with equal fluency, is never at a loss, quotes high
authority for every assertion, and allows no one else to utter a word;
he silences, without the least ceremony, every attempt at interruption,
however cleverly managed;--calls out, "I beg your pardon," in a tone
that shows how ill-used he thinks himself,--or shuts your mouth
with--"One minute, if you please, sir!" as much as to say, you are
surely a very ill-bred fellow. Great, and especially loud and positive
talkers, have been denounced by all writers on manners as shallow and
superficial persons. And P. Andre, the author of a French Essay on the
Beautiful, declares distinctly, that "no man of sense was ever a great
talker."
Next to the talker, we have the man who gives an account of his dogs,
horses, lands, books, and pictures. Whatever is his, must, he thinks,
interest others; and listen they must, however resolutely they may
attempt to change the current of his discourse.
Women of this class are sometimes too fond of praising their children.
It is no doubt an amiable weakness; but I would still advise them to
indulge as little as possible in the practice; for however dear the
rosy-cheeked, curly-headed prattlers may be to them, the chances are,
that others will vote the darlings to be great bores; you that have
children, never speak of them in company. You must not even praise your
near relations; for the subject deprives the hearer of all power to
dissent, and is therefore clearly objectionable.
In the same line is the clever bore, who takes up every idle speech, to
show his wisdom at a cheap rate. If you say, "Hang the weather!" before
such a man, he immediately proves, by logical demonstrations, that the
weather has no neck by which it can be suspended. The grave expounder of
truisms belongs to this class. He cannot allow the simplest conversation
to go on, without entering into proofs and details familiar to every
child nine years of age; and the tenor of his discourse, however
courteous in terms and manner, pays you the very indifferent compliment,
of supposing that you have fallen from some other planet, in total and
absolute ignorance of the most ordinary and every-day things connected
with this little world of ours. All foreigners are particularly great at
this style of boring.
Then you have the indifferent and apathetic bore, who hardly condescends
to pay the least attention to what you say; and who, if he refrains from
the direct and absolute rudeness of yawning in your face, shows, by
short and drawling answers, given at fits and starts, and completely at
variance with the object of the conversation, that he affects at least a
total indifference to the party present, and to the subject of
discourse. In society, the absent man is uncivil; he who affects to be
so, is rude and vulgar. All persons who speak of their ailings,
diseases, or bodily infirmities, are offensive bores. Subjects of this
sort should be addressed to doctors, who are paid for listening to them,
and to no one else. Bad taste is the failing of these bores. Then we
have the ladies and gentlemen who pay long visits, and who, meeting you
at the door prepared to sally forth, keep you talking near the fire till
the beauty of the day is passed; and then take their leave, "hoping they
have not detained you." Bad feeling or want of tact here predominates.
"Hobby-riders," who constantly speak on the same eternal subject,--who
bore you at all times and at all hours,--whether you are in health or in
sickness, in spirits or in sorrow, with the same endless topic, must not
be overlooked in our list; though it is sufficient to denounce them.
Their failing is occasioned by a total want of judgment.
The _Malaprops_ are also a numerous and unhappy family, for they are
constantly addressing the most unsuitable speeches to individuals or
parties. To the blind they will speak of fine pictures and scenery; and
will entertain a person in deep mourning with the anticipated pleasures
of to-morrow's ball. A total want of ordinary thought and observation,
is the general cause of the _Malaprop_ failing.
Let us add to this very imperfect list the picture of a bore described
by Swift. "Nothing," he says, "is more generally exploded than the folly
of talking too much; yet I rarely remember to have seen five people
together, where some one among them hath not been predominant in that
kind, to the great constraint and disgust of all the rest. But among
such as deal in multitudes of words, none are comparable to the sober,
deliberate talker, who proceedeth with much thought and caution, maketh
his preface, brancheth out into several digressions, findeth a hint that
putteth him in mind of another story, which he promises to tell you when
this is done, cometh back regularly to his subject, cannot readily call
to mind some person's name, holdeth his head, complaineth of his memory;
the whole company all this while in suspense; at last says, it is no
matter, and so goes on. And to crown the business, it perhaps proveth at
last a story the company has heard fifty times before, or at best some
insipid adventure of the relater."
To this we may add, that your cool, steady talkers, who speak with the
care and attention of professors demonstrating mathematical
problems,--who weigh, measure and balance every word they utter,--are
all decided objectionables in society. It is needless to say, that such
persons never blunder, and never "stumble over a potato;" a matter of
little recommendation. In conversation there must be, as in love and in
war, some hazarding, some rattling on; nor need twenty falls affect
you, so long as you take cheerfulness and good humor for your guides;
but the careful and measured conversation just described is always,
though perfectly correct, extremely dull and tedious--a vast blunder
from first to last.
There are also many persons who commence speaking before they know what
they are going to say. The ill-natured world, who never miss an
opportunity of being severe, declare them to be foolish and destitute of
brains. I shall not go so far; but hardly know what we should think of a
sportsman who would attempt to bring down a bird before he had loaded
his gun.
I have purposely reserved the egotistical bore for the last on this
short and imperfect list. It is truly revolting, indeed, to approach the
very _Boa-constrictor_ of good society; the snake who comes upon us, not
in the natural form of a huge, coarse, slow reptile, but Proteus-like,
in a thousand different forms; though all displaying at the first sight
the boa-bore, ready to slime over every subject of discourse with the
vile saliva of selfish vanity. Pah! it is repulsive even to speak of the
species, numerous, too, as the sands along the shore.
Some of the class make no ceremony of immediately intruding themselves
and their affairs on the attention of a whole party; of silencing every
other subject started, however interesting to the company, merely that
they may occupy the prominent and most conspicuous position. Others
again are more dexterous, and with great art will lie on the watch to
hook in their own praise. They will call a witness to remember they
always foretold what would happen in such a case, but none would believe
them; they advised such a man from the beginning, and told him the
consequences just as they happened; but he would have his own way.
Others make a vanity of telling their own faults; they are the strangest
men in the world; they cannot dissemble; they own it is a folly; they
have lost abundance of advantages by it; but if you would give them the
world, they cannot help it; there is something in their nature that
abhors insincerity and constraint, with many other insufferable topics
of the same altitude. Thus, though bores find their account in speaking
ill or well of themselves, it is the characteristic of a gentleman that
he never speaks of himself at all.
La Bruyere says, "The great charm of conversation consists less in the
display of one's own wit and intelligence, than in the power to draw
forth the resources of others; he who leaves you after a long
conversation, pleased with himself and the part _he_ has taken in the
discourse, will be your warmest admirer. Men do not care to admire you,
they wish you to be pleased with them; they do not seek for instruction
or even amusement from your discourse, but they do wish you to be made
acquainted with their talents and powers of conversation; and the true
man of genius will delicately make all who come in contact with him feel
the exquisite satisfaction of knowing that they have appeared to
advantage."
I have no desire to condemn my readers to eternal silence; but must
inform them that it is not so easy to _shine_ in conversation as many
suppose. Fluency of tongue and a little modest assurance, though very
well for imposing on the unwary, go but a short way when you have to
deal with those who are really worth pleasing.
How can a person _shine_ by conversation in elegant and educated
society, whose thoughts have never ranged beyond the gratification of
foolish vanity and mean selfishness; who has never reflected on life,
men and manners; whose mind has not turned to the contemplation of the
works and wonders of nature; and who, in the events of his own time, has
not seen the results of the many deeds of sorrow, shame, greatness, and
glory, that crowd the pages of the world's variegated annals? Whoever
would _shine_ in polite discourse must at least be well versed in the
philosophy of life, and possess a fair acquaintance with general and
natural history, and the outlines of science. And though he need be
neither a poet nor an artist, he must be well read in poetry and
acquainted with fine arts; because it is only by their study that taste
can be cultivated and fancy guided. A familiarity with the fine arts is
necessary, in fact, to give him a just perception of the sublime and
beautiful, the very foundation whence our emotions of delight must
arise. Any one attempting to _shine_ in conversation, without possessing
the trifling acquirements here mentioned,--for I have said nothing of
learning and science,--will most assuredly make an indifferent figure,
and had better therefore content himself with simply pleasing by
unaffected cheerfulness and good humor, which is within reach of all.
As to subjects for conversation, what difficulty can there be about
them? Will not books, balls, bonnets and metaphysics furnish pleasant
topics of discourse? Can you not speak of the
"Philosophy and science, and the springs
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world?"--
Are flirtations, traveling, love and speech-making at an end; or is the
great globe itself and the weather on its surface so perfectly
stationary that you can find nothing to say about them? No, no, let us
not deceive ourselves; we never want subjects of conversation; but we
often want the knowledge how to treat them; above all, how to bring them
forward in a graceful and pleasing manner. We often want observation and
a just estimate of character, and do not know how, in the present
defective state of society, any passing remark intended to open a
conversation may be received.
Cheerfulness, unaffected cheerfulness, a sincere desire to please and be
pleased, unchecked by any efforts to shine, are the qualities you must
bring with you into society, if you wish to succeed in conversation.
Under the influence of their recommendation, you may safely give the
rein to fancy and hilarity, certain that, in a well-assorted party, you
will make at least a favorable impression, if not a brilliant one. I do
not of course mean by cheerfulness any outbreaking of loud and silly
mirth, nor what the world sometimes calls a "high flow of spirits," but
a light and airy equanimity of temper,--that spirit which never rises to
boisterousness, and never sinks to immovable dullness; that moves
gracefully from "grave to gay, from serious to serene," and by mere
manner gives proof of a feeling heart and generous mind.
Franklin says, that you must never contradict in conversation, nor
correct facts if wrongly stated. This is going much too far; you must
never contradict in a short, direct, or positive tone; but with
politeness, you may easily, when necessary, express a difference of
opinion in a graceful and even complimentary manner. And I would almost
say, that the art of conversation consists in knowing _how_ to
contradict, and _when_ to be silent; for, as to constantly acting a
fawning and meanly deferential part in society, it is offensive to all
persons of good sense and good feeling. In regard to facts wrongly
stated, no well-bred man ever thinks of correcting them, merely to show
his wisdom in trifles; but with politeness, it is perfectly easy to
rectify an error, when the nature of the conversation demands the
explanation.
Whenever the lady or gentleman with whom you are discussing a point,
whether of love, war, science or politics, begins to sophisticate, drop
the subject instantly. Your adversary either wants the ability to
maintain his opinion,--and then it would be uncivil to press it--or he
wants the still more useful ability to yield the point with unaffected
grace and good-humor; or what is also possible, his vanity is in some
way engaged in defending views on which he may probably have acted, so
that to demolish his opinions is perhaps to reprove his conduct, and no
well-bred man goes into society for the purpose of sermonizing.
All local wits, all those whose jests are understood only within the
range of their own circle or coterie, are decided objectionables in
general society. It is the height of ill-breeding, in fact, to converse,
or jest, on subjects that are not perfectly understood by the party at
large; it is a species of rude mystification, as uncivil as whispering,
or as speaking in language that may not be familiar to some of the
party. But you must not make a fool of yourself, even if others show
themselves deficient in good manners; and must not, like inflated
simpletons, fancy yourself the object of every idle jest you do not
understand, or of every laugh that chance may have called forth. _Ladies
and gentlemen_ feel that they are neither laughed at nor ridiculed.
In society, the object of conversation is of course entertainment and
improvement, and it must, therefore, be adapted to the circle in which
it is carried on, and must be neither too high nor too deep for the
party at large, so that every one may contribute his share, just at his
pleasure, and to the best of his ability. Let no two or three old
Indians, old school-fellows, or old brother campaigners, seize upon the
conversation to themselves, discuss their former adventures, and keep
the rest of a party listening silently to an animated conversation about
exploded stories, of which they know nothing and care as little.
Lord Chesterfield advises his son "to speak often, but not to speak much
at a time; so that if he does not please, he will not at least displease
to any great extent." A good observer should easily, I think, be able to
discover whether he pleases or not.
Rousseau tells us, that "persons who know little talk a great deal,
while those who know a great deal say very little."
If the discourse is of a grave or serious nature, and interesting to
the party, or to any number of the party, never break in upon it with
any display of idle wit or levity; for nothing shows so great a want of
good manners; nor must you ever ridicule or doubt the existence of any
noble enthusiasm that may have called forth expressions of admiration;
for there is no want of high worth, patriotism, honor and
disinterestedness on earth. Your incredulity might therefore be unjust,
and it is at all times a proof of bad taste to ridicule what others
admire.
If you join in the graver conversation, intended to move the deeper
feelings of the heart, do so without affectation, without overstretching
sentiments, or bringing in far-fetched ideas for the sake of producing
effect, otherwise you will be sure to fail. Avoid, above all, when on
such topics, any stringing together of unmeaning words; for bad as the
practice of substituting sound for sense is at all times, it is doubly
so when conversation takes the direction of which we are speaking, as it
then shows the _jingler_ to want feelings as well as ideas. Speak from
the heart, when you speak _to_ the heart; only making judgment prune the
expressions of deep feeling, without checking the noble sentiments that
may have called them forth.
The reason which renders this pruning system advisable is, that society
swarms with worthy, respectable persons, possessing an ordinary share of
superficial good-nature, but so destitute of actual feeling, as not even
to understand its language; and who, without being scoffers, will be
inclined to laugh at expressions that convey no ideas to their minds.
The same reason should serve as a warning to all gentlemen against
writing love-letters; for if a gentle swain is really and truly in love,
he will write under excited feelings; and a letter written with a
palpitating heart, threatening to break a rib at every throb, can hardly
fail to appear a little ridiculous in the eyes of all who may not chance
to be exactly in the same frame of mind, or possessed of the same degree
of feeling with the writer.
There is a giggling and laughing tone, in which ladies and gentlemen
sometimes endeavor to speak,--an attempt to continue a series of jests
from the first to last, which is not only foolish, but actually
offensive. Conversation can never be kept up to the laughing point
during a whole evening,--not even during a morning visit; and efforts to
excite laughter by overstrained jests are as repulsive as overstrained
efforts to groan and grimace it. The natural flow of discourse must be
calm and serene; if wit, whim, fun and fire are present, they will not
fail to flash brightly along its surface; but they can never constitute
the main body of the stream itself.
Different parties, different tones no doubt, and an assembly of grave
doctors and professors, meeting to discuss some learned subject, may
treat it in their own way; here we can only speak of general society. It
is said, that the guests at a pleasant dinner party should never exceed
the number of the Muses, nor fall below that of the Graces. And this may
be true; but a party of three or four is already very different in
character,--independent of the difference occasioned by the characters
of the guests,--from what a party of eight or nine will be. In small
parties of this kind, numbers alone exercise great influence. But large
or small, always recollect that you can have no right to complain of the
dullness of the conversation, unless you have contributed your best
efforts to render it cheerful.
Nor is it always right to condemn a person for being silent in company,
as this often results from the nature of the party, which may be
ill-assorted, though composed of deserving people. No one can maintain a
conversation by himself; the very best speaker must still be aided by
others, who must lend assistance in the _proper spirit_, _befitting_ the
nature of the discourse; for a rude and forward person, wishing to
shine, can easily crush the efforts of the most perfect gentleman, and
give an unfavorable tone and turn to a pleasant conversation.
In ordinary conversation, the modulation and proper management of the
voice is a point to which I would particularly call the attention of
young ladies; for a fine and melodious voice, "sweet as music on the
waters," makes the heart-strings vibrate to their very core. This can
only be done by a certain degree of confidence, and by a total absence
of affectation; for uncertainty, agitation and striving for effect are
always ruinous to the voice of the speaker, which is constantly running
against breakers, or getting upon flats. I am certain that temper and
disposition are far more generally, and more perfectly marked by the
voice and manner of speaking, than we are at all willing to allow.
The thin, small voice is the most difficult to manage, as it is liable
to degenerate into shrillness; and ladies who have this kind of voice
must keep strict guard over their temper, when within hearing of any one
on whom they may wish to make a favorable impression; for the very idea
of a shrill-voiced scold makes us place our hands to our ears. But with
a sweet temper, a pretty, little, harmonious voice is pleasing enough.
Always recollect, however, that affectation, constraint, or striving for
effect, is the certain ruin of the prettiest voice in the world.
The very deep-toned voice, though extremely effective when well
controlled, has great difficulties; for unless backed by kind, cheerful
and airy feeling, by "that bright spirit which is always gladness," it
is liable to fall into a coarse, rude and vulgar tone, and should never
be heard except at times of brilliant sunshine. The owners of such
voices should never think of getting angry, nor even indulge in saying
what they may fancy sharp or severe things, as the chances are that
they will prove only rude ones.
Stories, however good--and they are often to be recommended--suffer
under one of the disadvantages to which anecdotes are liable,--they do
not bear repetition; and no one can be expected to possess a stock that
shall furnish new and acceptable wares on every occasion. They form in
conversation the resource of those who want imagination, and must be
received with indulgence; but to deserve this favor, they must be short,
well told, well pointed, and judiciously adapted to the feelings and
composition of the party. We have all of us at times known a good story
or anecdote introduced under such inappropriate circumstances, as to
make a whole party look grave and feel uncomfortable.
The honor of demolishing the weavers of long tales shall be left to
Cowper.
"But sedentary weavers of long tales
Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.
'Tis the most asinine employ on earth,
To hear them tell of parentage and birth;
And echo conversations dull and dry,
Embellished with _he said_ and _so said I_.
At every interview their route the same,
The repetition makes attention lame;
We bristle up with unsuccessful speed,
And in the saddest part, cry--_Droll, indeed_."
Let the reader only get these verses by heart, and repeat a line
occasionally to show that he recollects them, and we shall soon find
society relieved from these spinners of dull yarns.
Some gentlemen have a talent for placing things in a grotesque,
exaggerated and ludicrous light; and of extemporizing burlesque
anecdotes in a whimsical and amusing manner. It is a happy gift, of
which excellent use can be made in society; but tact and taste must, as
usual, keep a firm rein, for nothing that is seriously treated by others
must ever be burlesqued and turned into ridicule. The grotesque style is
only applicable when the ground is fairly open, or when jesting,
bantering and exaggeration are the order of the minute; and then it may
be rendered charming.
Let no one suppose that mimicry is to be sanctioned under this head;
far from it, indeed. A little graceful imitation of actors and public
speakers may be allowed. National manners, and the peculiarities of
entire classes, are fair game. French dandies, Yankee bargainers, and
English exquisites, may be ridiculed at pleasure; you may even bring
forward Irish porters, cab-drivers and bog-trotters,--_provided_ you can
imitate their wit and humor; but I do not think I ever saw any mimicry
of private individuals well received by well-bred persons. Nor is this
to be wondered at, since mimicry borders so closely on buffoonery, as
generally to end in absolute vulgarity. Ladies, however, may be
permitted to mimic their friends a little, provided they rarely indulge
in the practice, and never transgress the bounds of good taste and
elegance.
We meet occasionally in society with persons belonging to a class, not
numerous indeed, but deserving notice, as they are mostly ladies, and
often worth reclaiming; for want of a better term I shall call them
_Icicles_, because they only shine and cannot warm. The _Icicles_ may be
kind, clever, of cultivated mind, and in every respect well disposed to
become agreeable,--but cannot speak or converse on any one subject. They
are constantly witty and ingenious, place every proposition or general
question asked, in some amusing, novel or extravagant light, but never
answer or speak up to the point; so that you may converse with them for
hours, and be acquainted with them for years, without knowing their
opinion upon any one subject; without knowing even whether they have an
opinion on any one subject. Nor does this always result from
affectation, or from efforts to shine; it springs as often from a faulty
tone, and the fear of not being sufficiently clever, when attempting to
be rational, as from any other source. I have seen persons lose a great
deal by this absurd system, and fall far short of what they might have
been had they merely followed the beaten track; and as a maxim would
have you recollect, that few good things are ever said by those who are
constantly striving to say extraordinary ones.
GENERAL RULES FOR CONVERSATION.
As order or method are of very little consequence in treating of this
subject, I will conclude by giving a series of rules upon the art of
conversation, couched in a few words, from which the reader may furnish
himself with a competent knowledge of what is to be studied, and what to
be avoided. There are few of the following sentences that will not
furnish a good deal of thought, or that are to be understood to their
full extent without some consideration.
Whatever passes in parties at your own or another's house is never
repeated by well-bred people. Things of no moment, and which are meant
only as harmless jokes, are liable to produce unpleasant consequences if
repeated. To repeat, therefore, any conversation which passes on such
occasions, is understood to be a breach of confidence, which should
banish the offender from the pale of good society.
Men of all sorts of occupations meet in society. As they go there to
unbend their minds and escape from the fetters of business, you should
never, in an evening, speak to a man about his profession. Do not talk
of politics to a journalist, of fevers to a physician, of stocks to a
broker,--nor, unless you wish to enrage him to the utmost, of education
to a collegian. The error which is here condemned is often committed
from mere good nature and a desire to be affable. But it betrays to a
gentleman, ignorance of the world,--to a philosopher, ignorance of human
nature.
A gentleman will, by all means, avoid showing his learning and
accomplishments in the presence of ignorant and vulgar people, who can,
by no possibility, understand or appreciate them. It is a pretty sure
sign of bad breeding to set people to staring and feeling uncomfortable.
In England, it is regarded a breach of etiquette to repeat the name of
any person with whom you are conversing. But the same rule does not hold
in America. Here it is deemed no breach, if you are conversing with a
lady by the name of Sherwood, to say, "Well, _Mrs. Sherwood_, do you not
think," etc.
In a mixed company, never speak to your friend of a matter which the
rest do not understand, unless it is something which you can explain to
them, and which may be made interesting to the whole party.
If you wish to inquire about anything, do not do it by asking a
question; but introduce the subject, and give the person an opportunity
of saying as much as he finds it agreeable to impart. Do not even say,
"How is your brother to-day?" but "I hope your brother is quite well."
Never ask a lady a question about anything whatever.
By all means, avoid the use of slang terms and phrases in polite
company. No greater insult can be offered to polite society than to
repeat the slang dictums of bar-rooms and other low places. If you are
willing to have it known that you are familiar with such company
yourself, you have no right to treat a party of ladies and gentlemen as
though they were, too.
Avoid the habit of employing French words in English conversation; it is
extremely bad taste to be always using such expressions as _ci-devant_,
_soi-disant_, _en masse_, _couleur de rose_, etc. Do not salute your
acquaintances with _bon jour_, nor reply to every proposition,
_volontiers_. In society, avoid having those peculiar preferences for
some subjects which are vulgarly denominated "_hobby-horses_." They make
your company a _bore_ to all your friends; and some kind-hearted
creature will take advantage of them and _trot_ you, for the amusement
of the company. Every attempt to obtrude on a company subjects either to
which they are indifferent, or of which they are ignorant, is in bad
taste.
"Man should be taught as though you taught him not,
And things unknown proposed as things forgot."
A man is quite sure to show his good or bad breeding the instant he
opens his mouth to talk in company. If he is _a gentleman_ he starts no
subject of conversation that can possibly be displeasing to any person
present. The ground is common to all, and no one has a right to
monopolize any part of it for his own particular opinions, in politics
or religion. No one is there to make proselytes, but every one has been
invited, to be _agreeable_ and _to please_.
He who knows the world, will not be too bashful. He who knows himself,
will not be impudent.
Do not endeavor to shine in all companies. Leave room for your hearers
to imagine something within you beyond all you have said. And remember,
the more you are praised, the more you will be envied.
There is no surer sign of vulgarity than the perpetual boasting of the
fine things you have at home. If you speak of your silver, of your
jewels, of your costly apparel, it will be taken for a sign that you are
either lying, or that you were, not long ago, somebody's washerwoman,
and cannot forget to be reminding everybody that you are not so now.
You need not tell all the truth, unless to those who have a right to
know it all. But let all you tell be truth.
Insult not another for his want of a talent you possess; he may have
others, which you want. Praise your friends and let your friends praise
you.
If you treat your inferiors with familiarity, expect the same from them.
If you give a jest, take one. Let all your jokes be truly jokes. Jesting
sometimes ends in sad earnest.
If a favor is asked of you, grant it, if you can. If not, refuse it in
such a manner, as that one denial may be sufficient.
If you are in company with a distinguished gentleman--as a governor, or
senator--you will not be perpetually trying to trot out his titles, as
it would make you appear like a lackey or parasite, who, conscious of no
merits of your own, are trying to lift yourself by the company of
others. In introducing such a gentleman, you will merely call him
"governor," or "senator," and afterwards avoid all allusion to his rank.
If you would render yourself pleasing in social parties, never speak to
gratify any particular vanity or passion of your own, but always aim to
interest or amuse others by themes which you know are in accordance with
their tastes and understandings. Even a well-bred minister will avoid
introducing his professional habits and themes at such places. He knows
that the guests were not invited there to listen to a sermon, and there
may be some who differ with him in opinions, who would have good reason
to feel themselves insulted by being thus forced to listen to him.
Reproof is a medicine like mercury or opium; if it be improperly
administered, with report either to the adviser or the advised, it will
do harm instead of good.
Nothing is more unmannerly than to reflect on any man's profession,
sect, or natural infirmity. He who stirs up against himself another's
self-love, provokes the strongest passions in human nature.
Be careful of your word, even in keeping the most trifling appointment.
But do not blame another for a failure of that kind, till you have heard
his excuse.
Never offer advice, but where there is some probability of its being
followed.
If you find yourself in a company which violently abuses an absent
friend of yours, you need not feel that you are called upon to take up
the club for him. You will do better by saying mildly that they must
have been misinformed--that you are proud to call him your friend, which
you could not do if you did not know him to be incapable of such things
as they had heard. After this, if they are gentlemen, they will
stop--indeed, if they had been gentlemen, they would hardly have
assailed an absent one in a mixed party; and if you feel constrained to
quit their company, it will be no sacrifice to your own self-respect or
honor.
Fools pretend to foretell what will be the issue of things, and are
laughed at for their awkward conjectures. Wise men, being aware of the
uncertainty of human affairs, and having observed how small a matter
often produces a great change, are modest in their conjectures.
He who talks too fast, outruns his hearer's thoughts. He who speaks too
slow, gives his hearer pain by hindering his thoughts, as a rider who
frets his horse by reining him in too much.
Never think to entertain people with what lies out of their way, be it
ever so curious in its kind. Who would think of regaling a circle of
ladies with the beauties of Homer's Greek, or a mixed company with Sir
Isaac Newton's discoveries?
Do well, but do not boast of it. For that will lessen the commendation
you might otherwise have deserved.
Never ask a question under any circumstances. In the first place, it is
too proud; in the second place, it may be very inconvenient or very
awkward to give a reply. A lady inquired of what branch of medical
practice a certain gentleman was professor. He held the chair of
_midwifery_!
To offer advice to an angry man, is like blowing against a tempest.
Too much preciseness and solemnity in pronouncing what one says in
common conversation, as if one was preaching, is generally taken for an
indication of self-conceit and arrogance.
Make your company a rarity, and people will value it. Men despise what
they can easily have.
Value truth, however you come by it. Who would not pick up a jewel that
lay on a dung-hill?
The beauty of behavior consists in the manner, not the matter of your
discourse.
It is not in good taste for a lady to say "Yes, sir," and "No, sir," to
a gentleman, or frequently to introduce the word "Sir," at the end of
her sentence, unless she desire to be exceedingly reserved toward the
person with whom she is conversing.
If your superior treats you with familiarity, it will not therefore
become you to treat him in the same manner.
A good way to avoid impertinent and pumping inquiries, is by answering
with another question. An evasion may also serve the purpose. But a lie
is inexcusable on any occasion, especially when used to conceal the
truth from one who has no authority to demand it.
To reprove with success, the following circumstances are necessary,
viz.: mildness, secrecy, intimacy, and the esteem of the person you
would reprove.
If you be nettled with severe raillery, take care never to show that you
are stung, unless you choose to provoke more. The way to avoid being
made a butt, is not to set up for an archer.
To set up for a critic is bullying mankind.
Reflect upon the different appearances things make to you from what they
did some years ago, and don't imagine that your opinion will never
alter, because you are extremely positive at present. Let the
remembrance of your past changes of sentiment make you more flexible.