BLUNDERS IN BEHAVIOUR
CORRECTED;
A Concise Code of Deportment for Both Sexes.
BY AN OBSERVER OF MEN AND THINGS.
“It is a man’s manners that make his fortune.”--CORNELIUS NEPOS.
LONDON: GROOMBRIDGE & SONS, 5, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1855.
INTRODUCTION.
Books on Etiquette generally confine their attention to the usages of exclusively fashionable life, and are useful only in forming the habits of youth, or those who, suddenly elevated to a status higher than their natural reach, wish to adapt themselves to a kind of society to which they are more frequently allured by vanity than sense; for there is nothing more really hollow than the life termed par-excellence FASHIONABLE. The middle ranks of life are acknowledged to be most tinctured with virtue, manliness, and religious feeling; for the vanities of wealth, and the debasements of poverty, are alike destructive of that uprightness of heart which civilization professes to insure. Not but that there are many estimable personages to be found in the highest walks of fashion and distinction; and many, aye, more than would be believed, who adorn the rugged paths of penury with the noblest examples of gentleness of manners and moral rectitude. Still, between these two extremes, what an enormous mass of individuals we find, who, immured in trade, hurried along in the anxieties of commercial life, find but few opportunities for the acquisition of the higher kinds of knowledge, and the refining usages which rob life of its harshness, and soften the heart in its communion with the world. Here we find the deficiencies of good-breeding mostly manifested; and here, too, the most laudable desire prevails for the attainment of those polishing touches which make us more congenial in our social intercourse, and which, by giving our better feelings their proper shape, by moulding our sentiments into elegance of expression, help us to resist all temptations to petty dealing, and even to check vice by making it unfashionable. Virtue and religion are not only compatible with elegance of manners, but are strengthened in their exercise by them; and every man who is not a misanthropist, every woman who is not a nun, must feel the necessity of attention to forms and usages, and to those elegancies of manner which characterize good-nature and uprightness of heart as much as they do a fashionable education. Politeness is as essential to the man of business as to the haunter of gaming-tables and west-end saloons; it is even more so to remove that reproach against trading influences in which the wealthy so often indulge. Good feeling is not improved by roughness of manner, nor is hospitality heightened by a negligent display. Friendship is more acceptable when its salutations and kindly offices are well-timed; and religion herself delights to be clothed in vestments of elegance and purity. Every man must account it a boon to enjoy admission to the best society, to mingle with those who, by learning, by polite accomplishments, and by the exercise of philanthropic and moral feelings, have lifted their lives out of the dull round of days and hours into a region of social sunshine; and none would willingly mar the perfection of such circles by carrying boorish manners into their midst, or destroy his enjoyment by the exhibition of an inaptitude to elegant society; nay, elegance should go with us to our homes; we should exercise politeness at the fireside to our wives, our husbands, our children, and our kindred generally, and not keep our good-manners exclusively as articles of exhibition to strangers. Many heart-burnings, many foolish indulgences in temper, many unkind words and deeds would thus be avoided; and while elegance of manner served frequently to check us in the pursuit of wrong, it would often prompt us to the culture of goodness, so long as we maintained that necessary distinction between the refinement of the heart and the mere outside show of feigned courtesy. Such hints as are offered here are intended to help in this direction, and are addressed to such as have not had the advantage of polite education and example in youth, and who may have formed their habits under adverse circumstances, and are not too vain of them to seek for improvement.
BLUNDERS IN BEHAVIOUR CORRECTED.
ABSENCE OF MIND.--Chesterfield, in his “Advice to his Son,” justly characterises an absent man as unfit for business or conversation. Absence of mind is usually affected, and springs in most cases from a desire to be thought abstracted in profound contemplations. The world, however, gives a man no credit for vast ideas who exhibits absence when he should be attentive, even to trifles. The world is right in this, and I would implore every studious youth to forget that he is studious when he enters company. I have seen many a man, who would have made a bright character otherwise, affect a foolish reserve, remove himself as far from others as possible, and in a mixed assembly, where social prattle or sincere conversation enlivened the hearts of the company, sit by himself abstracted in a book. It is foolish, and, what is worse for the absentee, it looks so. A hint on this subject is sufficient, and we do hint, that abstractedness of manner should never be exhibited; the greatest geniuses have ever been attentive to trifles when it so behoved them.
ACCOMPLISHMENTS are by some considered too trifling for their attention, but no person desirous of the enjoyments of social life can spurn them without paying the penalty. Men of business are frequently denied the leisure necessary to render themselves moderately proficient in continental languages, music, dancing, and the arts of pleasing. Yet such things are essential, and add very much to our enjoyments; they tend to refine the nature, and form links of connection between persons of all ages, sexes, and dispositions. It is our duty to encourage everything of a refining nature, so long as we lose in the pursuit none of the solid excellencies of character; and, by a proper attention to such things, we insure for ourselves reception in quarters where we should be obnoxious without them. These acquisitions are equally important to both sexes, though those of the masculine gender are most guilty of the blunder of setting them at nought.
AFFECTATION is more prevalent than people care to own. Ladies are terribly given to this folly. One affects not to know the colour of money, unless it be pin-money, and then her wits are unusually sharp. Another is so fashionable in her tastes, that she thinks it elegant to take no interest in her husband’s affairs; so that whether he prosper or fail in life seems all the same to her. I know a lady who has lately adopted the affectation of ignorance--a strange kind of affectation certainly. If she should hear a remark from a scientific man, in explanation of some curious natural phenomenon, she will toss her head aside and, with a benign but unmeaning smile, say, “Indeed! I don’t understand such things.” We do not seek for blue-stockings, but really we cannot do without common sense; and the pride of ignorance, whether it be fashionable or not, must be looked upon as a blunder of tremendous import. The affectation of superior wisdom is equally objectionable. If a person tells you something you already know, you are not to inform him in the middle of his story that you know it already. It is a mark of a most vulgar mind to parade your knowledge on any occasion, or seek repute in society as a person of great attainments. Some ardent young students are apt to interlard their conversation with scientific terms and explanations, and with quotations innumerable from out-of-the-way books. Such things are well enough in moderation; but if not tempered as to time and place, stamp the individual as conceited. I knew a man who, in every respect but one, was a model of deportment and sound sense; but in the one blunder of which he was guilty he managed, on every possible occasion, to mar the esteem in which he was everywhere held. He was a profound chemist, and on all subjects ready and well informed, but he introduced chemistry into his conversation so frequently, and soared to such etherial heights in his theoretic speculations, that his presence was at last dreaded. The ladies looked at him in awe, the frivolous young men jeered and tittered, and he was known at last by the sobriquet of the “Oxygen Nuisance.” But though few persons carry their conceit so far as this, too many of us are weak enough to think that what we especially delight in must prove equally acceptable to all we meet; and affectation, in this respect, must be guarded against by all who desire to conduct themselves in society so as to be respected and esteemed.
Affectation of superiority is worse still, because it galls the feelings of those to whom it is offered. In company with an inferior, never let him feel his inferiority. An employer, who invites his confidential clerk to his house, should treat him in every way the same as his most distinguished guest. No reference to business should be made, and anything in the shape of command avoided. It is very easy by a look, a word, the mode of reception, or otherwise, to advertise to the other guests, “This is my clerk,” or, “The person I now treat as a guest was yesterday labouring in my service;” but such a thing would lower the host more than it would annoy the guest. Before Burns had arrived at his high popularity, he was once invited by some puffed up lairds to dine, in order that they might have the gratification of hearing the poet sing one of his own songs. Burns was shown into the servants’ hall, and left to dine with the menials. After dinner he was invited to the drawing-room, and, a glass of wine being handed to him, requested to sing one of his own songs. He immediately gave his entertainers that thrilling assertion of independence, “A man’s a man for a’ that,” and left the moment he had finished, his heart embittered at patronage offered in a manner so insulting to his poverty.
If you take pains to mortify a man, to make him feel that he occupies an inferior station, that he stands below you in abilities, rank, or fortune, you offer him an insult, which, though he may be too much of a gentleman to resent, nevertheless he is sure to feel, and for which none of your kindnesses are a compensation. An inferior is even entitled to superior attention, that he may not have even the fear of being slighted; and, above all things, that he have sufficient confidence in himself, to mingle freely in conversation. True politeness consists in making everybody happy about you, and to do otherwise a proof of an uncultivated nature.
AFFRONTS are to be borne more patiently than we are wont to bear them. To resent an affront is usually wrong, and for these reasons:--We are not always sure that an affront was intended, in which case resentment must be built upon error. We are not to carry in our breasts remembrance of every wrong, for we know not how many we ourselves unconsciously commit on others. If we cannot bear with trifling annoyances we must shun human society altogether, for it is a mixture of such with gratifications. Nature gives us corn with the chaff on, and in men she presents us with some paltry characters which we must tolerate. Besides, to take notice of every trifling annoyance shows too great a study of trifles, quite apart from the dignified bearing of gentlemanly conduct. Do not notice every offence, and you will not have many to trouble you.
BALL ROOM.--Everybody knows it is a blunder to enter a ball room with the head covered; but everybody does not know that it is equally so to enter immediately after smoking, when every lady you speak to must put up with the Stygian fumes of your tainted breath. As to the elegancies of salutation, address, and so forth, every person who enters a ball room must be sufficiently prepared beforehand, by having mingled in genteel society; such things cannot be taught in words. Those who can dance know all the forms of ball room courtesy; but these are apt to commit blunders unless they study to please. Those unused to the ball room should enter it with confidence, seek a partner, and after one or two dances leave. After leading your partner to a seat leave her, but not abruptly; if you burden her with your society she may fail in getting another partner. Young men, who have not had much experience in polite circles, are sometimes so enamoured of a lady, after one or two dances, as to continue their companionship throughout the evening. This is a great error; you seek a partner for the dance only, and not for companionship and conversation. Do not lounge about the seats as a looker on, or you will be counted a bore. Should a lady express a wish not to dance, it is unpolite to press her; and it is equally unpolite to look after a certain lady as a partner, to haunt her, as it were, when perhaps she may not have the same desire to dance with you that you have for her. When a lady has engaged to dance with you, you are not to afflict her with your society as a matter of course; indeed, to sit with your partner for any length of time is a mark of ill-breeding. It is the thorough mingling of persons one with another that constitutes the charm of the ball room, and cliques and conversations are to be avoided. Relatives and lovers should associate as little as possible in the dance; and a man should but seldom, except in very homely parties, dance with his wife. Greetings in the ball room should be quietly performed, so as not to attract attention.
Ladies are generally au fait in ball room etiquette; but having once or twice seen a lady rambling in the room by herself, I will here hint, for the benefit of my fair readers, that a lady should not leave her seat to cross the room, or speak to a friend, unless accompanied by a gentleman. A little observation, and a modest confidence, will enable any person to acquire ease and elegance in parties where dancing is going on.
BUTTON-HOLDING.--Chesterfield inveighs against holding a man by the button, “for if people are not willing to hear you, you had much better hold your tongue than them.” Button-holding is not a common vice, but pointing, nudging, hitting a man in the side with your fist, or giving him a kick of recognition under the table, are too common not to be noticed here as terrible breaches of deportment. Significant looks and gestures are equally objectionable, and must be avoided by all who desire to soar above positive vulgarity. I have often been annoyed by hearing a friend discourse on some person’s failings or excellencies, the person referred to being known only to the speaker. It is a bad rule to talk of persons at all, but more especially if the person spoken of is not known to all the listeners.
CALLS.--When you call on a friend and do not find him at home, leave your card, your name will not be sufficient. After having made a call, it is the duty of your acquaintance to return it; and unless it be returned (peculiar circumstances being allowed for) you must not call again, but infer that he wishes to drop your acquaintance. This, indeed, is a safe mode of breaking off an acquaintance, and this is the mode adopted in polite society. No one complains, but the thing is silently dropped. In making morning calls, you are not to stay above ten or fifteen minutes, and during the whole time you are to keep your hat in your hand, and not part with it for a moment. This custom seems ridiculous at first sight, but, like most ceremonies, has a good meaning in it. By holding your hat you indicate that you are about to leave, and do not expect an invitation to dinner; while, if your host wishes you to stay, he will beg you to be relieved of the incumbrance. It is a ruinous practice to make a call anywhere at the hour of dinner. You may, perhaps, be invited to sit down, but if the thing be repeated, your acquaintance will be unwelcome. This would scarcely seem worth mentioning, but the practice prevails a good deal, and is a blunder to be guarded against.
CHILDREN.--Almost every parent commits the blunder of making too much of his children in the presence of visitors. It is very pardonable in fond mothers, but papas are the most subject to make themselves ridiculous on this score. Remember the old motto about regarding your geese as swans, and do not thrust your children on your visitors as prodigies of beauty, eccentricity, and excellence. The other extreme is just as bad; and to thrust your children from the room, or to treat them harshly in the presence of others, makes you look as if you were ashamed of them. Still, as a rule, children should not be obtruded on the attention of visitors, or made to exhibit their parts to those who feel compelled to praise even in spite of disapprobation. My friend R---- often burdens me with anecdotes of his boy’s roguery, and this in presence of the boy himself. Whereupon the child, fired with parental approval, begins to pinch and pummel me, much to my annoyance; though I can bear this better than I can to hear my friend talk of his son’s musical predilections, which always lead the youngster to a sham pianoforte performance with his fingers on the table, or to the humming of some tune in a tone loud enough to stop all conversation.
CLEANLINESS of person is a distinguishing trait of every well-bred person; and this not on state occasions only, but at all times, even at home. It is a folly to sit by the fire in a slovenly state, consoling oneself with the remark, “Nobody will call to-day.” Should somebody call we are in no plight to receive them, and otherwise it is an injury to the character to allow slovenly habits to control us even when we are unseen.
COMMANDS should never be given in a commanding tone. A gentleman requests, he does not command. We are not to assume so much importance, whatever our station, as to give orders in the “imperative mood,” nor are we ever justified in thrusting the consciousness of servitude on any one. The blunder of commanding sternly is most frequently committed by those who have themselves but just escaped servitude, and we should not exhibit to others a weakness so unbecoming.
CONTROL OF TEMPER.--It is very unbecoming to exhibit petulance, or angry feeling, though it is indulged in so largely in almost every circle. The true gentleman does not suffer his countenance to be easily ruffled; and we only look paltry when we suffer temper to hurry us into ill-judged expressions of feeling. “He that is soon angry dealeth foolishly.”
CONVERSATION ranks the highest among social enjoyments. To converse well requires extensive knowledge, elegance of manner, command of temper, and a desire to please. He who cannot converse to the profit of the company, must listen for the profit of himself; though no one need preserve a stolid silence from excessive bashfulness or conscious inability. The smallest remark may be well-timed and elegantly uttered; the lightest observation properly pointed and emphasised, and the most trivial question put with modesty, grace, and elegance of expression. Yet, in middle-class society, how little really good conversation do we hear? How frequently personalities creep in; how one gives way to undue warmth when his religious and political principles are assailed; how another jests and puns upon the most serious subjects; or a third plays the pedant by the use of a string of technicalities, which he himself scarcely understands, to adorn his shallow learning and his imperfect judgment. Of that shallow talk in which the fast-going men of the day indulge--a drawling mixture of the quasi-fashionable and the idiotic--we do not speak at all, for it is not conversation but slow prattle, too tinctured with the germs of vice to be childish, but too silly for the utterance of men. We speak of what bears the name of conversation amongst the reading and thinking portion of middle-class society, which is to be heard at social gatherings, at quiet dinner parties, and by the family tea-table. The conversation in these quarters is not equal to the personages; they are apt to descend below themselves for the sake of displaying incipient wit, imperfect knowledge, execrable powers of criticism, or for the achievement of some petty conquest in argument. Pity that many good societies should be marred by unbridled and untamed tongues. Pity that conversation is not everywhere made a matter of study, that men will not exercise as much care in speaking their thoughts as they do in writing them.
Among the most glaring social blunders to be noticed under this head are, talking too much of ourselves. This is a blunder very commonly committed, and is as much a mark of vanity as want of sense. Really great men have never said much of themselves, therefore we may infer, by the converse argument, that he who indulges in talking of himself must be a really small man. In the whole of Shakspere’s plays and poems you do not gather enough of the poet’s history to settle definitely the question whether he was lame or not, or even to fix, with any certainty, his opinions on political and religious subjects. He who talks much of himself is also apt to tell of the injuries he has sustained. This is a very common blunder, but a most unpardonable one. It is undignified to carry our woes about with us, and retail them out to others, saying how such-a-one has cheated us of money, how another has offered us an insult, and so on. If you cannot say something cheerful to your friend, keep at a distance, and let him enjoy at peace his own cogitations. What are your affairs to other people? keep your own counsel, and be not too ready to make confidants.
If you are not to talk of yourself freely, so are you not to talk freely of others. I regret to have to confess here, that scandal, in some shape or other, is the bane of our English society, and needs as severe lashing now-a-days as it did when Sheridan wrote his wonderful comedy. Though when these pages meet the reader’s eye he will perhaps be unwilling to own it, but I will still insist, that both sexes are universally addicted to this vice in some form or other; and that it is sheer vanity, or perhaps even shame, which prompts men to make the charge of scandal against females, while they repudiate any share in the guilt themselves. The shapes scandal takes are so numerous, that it is impossible here to attempt to define them. Let the reader reflect on this, and ask himself whether he has ever indulged in scandal, even in a mild form. Let my lady friends, too, ponder awhile, and next time they find the tongue running away in condemnation of an absent friend, sister, or brother, or in severe criticism on such and such a person’s conduct, take the assurance that such conduct is unkind, unfair, mean, paltry, ungenteel. The quiet, half-expressed sneer is still more detestable, for it is more injurious, more insidious in its operation, more secret in its manner, and hence more discreditable to the utterer. A person who indulges in depreciatory remarks, insinuations, sneers, and the like, no matter though he thinks he has good grounds for them, is like the viper, which steals noiselessly on its unsuspecting victim, gives its sting in silence, and disappears. To slander, in plain terms, is better than to hint and insinuate, but both are evidences of a mean and contemptible mind.
Contradictions are usually given too abruptly, and sometimes lead to wrangling, or if not noticed by the parties receiving them, are still apt to rankle and annoy secretly, and destroy the harmony which ought to prevail in an assembly of friends. It is equally absurd to make bets or to strengthen a statement or argument by an offer of a bet in support of it. Such things are worthy only of the lowest rabble, and no man making pretensions to the status of a gentleman should descend to it. Oaths of all kinds are as ungentlemanly as they are wicked; and the frequent use of the condemnatory oath as verb, adjective, and noun, both immoral and degrading.
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