There are some men, of respectable position and pretensions, who are so barren of general intelligence that they can talk of nothing except their own business affairs. Such men are very worthless in social society, and we conjure the reader at all times to steer clear of conduct which so readily indicates vulgarity and emptiness. A tradesman will perhaps sit down at your table, and endeavour to entertain you with an account of sales and purchases; anon comes a thin-minded solicitor’s clerk, who brings with him a string of appeals and motions; then an incipient author, who tells you of the immense mass of verses he has written for the behoof of cheesemongers and trunkmakers; and, to wind up, a portly widow repeats for the hundredth time the story of her troubles, her husband’s failure and death, and her present endeavours to establish a little business in the millinery way. Those who sit in such a company, and withhold, for decency’s sake, the story of their own affairs, find that the evening has been utterly wasted, for not one spark of general intelligence, not one item of general information, not one coruscation of original humour has illuminated the dull round of these many wasted hours. I would sooner console myself with a newspaper, and read the list of bankruptcies and suicides, than listen to a man who indulged in descriptions of his own skill in trade, his losses and profits, or the thousand and one trifles which we all have to consider and remember, but which are of no interest to any but ourselves.
The affectation of wisdom is a very common vice amongst pseudo-students. For instance, Mr. Smallweed, who is really a well-informed man, is so conceited in this respect that he cannot, when the subject of the conversation affords him opportunity, avoid interlarding his remarks with technicalities and remote allusions. He would not speak of finches or whales but under the Cuvierian terms of Fringillidæ or Cetacæ, or refer to the Canadian columbine, or the field pimpernel, but under their botanical names of Aquilegia Canadensis or Anagallis arvensis. Such terms are neither elegant nor appropriate in mixed society; and so far from causing the ladies to look up in astonishment at the profound learning of the speaker--an effect usually intended and wished for--they are more likely to indulge in a sly titter, and vote his hard words a bother. This is the “little learning” which Bacon terms “a dangerous thing” and must be avoided by those who would cultivate good-breeding, which is always more allied to simplicity of expression, and transparency of conduct, than to complicated technicalities, or dark mysterious doings. Another fault of Mr. Smallweed is, that he never pays proper attention to another speaker; the music of his own voice is too great a charm for him, and he thinks it must have a very siren-like tone to others; so he rambles on till some wag asks him if he has a dictionary with him, when he drops into sulkiness, looks black, and is quieted for a time. While upon Mr. Smallweed’s failings, let me refer to his habitual mode of referring to other persons, for this fault of his is very common to the civilized specimen of (to use his phrase) the anthropological animal. For instance, instead of saying, “My friend, Mr. Simpson, told me so-and-so,” he invariably says, “Simpson told me so-and-so,” or, “Longman’s are the publishers of So-and-so’s book.” A gentleman never drops the “Mr.,” or the “Messieurs,” the “Dr.,” the “Professor,” or any other title or mode of address to which persons are entitled. It is ungentlemanly to speak of “Bulwer’s last novel,” or “the new edition of Gill’s Commentary.” We should say, “Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer,” and “Dr. Gill,” and not abbreviate, as if a respectful mention of a person cost us more breath than he is worth.
A few short rules for conversation may here be useful; and I offer them in the fewest words possible, because I think that for those who wish to cultivate a polite bearing, and conserve the good feeling which usually accompanies gentlemanly conduct, a hint is alone sufficient.
1. Do not talk too long together, for fear of tiring your hearers, and so as to afford others an opportunity of talking also. 2. Watch your listeners to be sure that they are interested, and if they appear not to be, allow the conversation to take its own shape in some other channel. 3. If you observe a person about to make a remark, give him the opportunity by pausing and assuming an attentive and expectant countenance. 4. If you tell stories let them be short, pointed, appropriate, and without digression. 5. Avoid repetitions and hackneyed phrases. 6. Use as few gestures as possible; on a Frenchman gestures and grimaces set very well, because they are natural to the people, but the English gentleman seldom indulges in pantomime, and never in mimicry. 7. Exercise your skill as a listener occasionally, and listen attentively and with appreciation. If you are a listener by nature, and hence not a talker, do not suffer yourself to become habitually dumb, or your society will be seldom acceptable. 8. Never anticipate a slow speaker, and avoid correcting another in his pronunciation. Friends, on very familiar terms, may correct each other occasionally, but not in the presence of a third party, and always in a quiet and respectful manner. 9. Do not give advice unasked. 10. Give a speaker respectful attention and look him in the face while speaking. 11. Be not too free in speaking your mind; remember that your mind may not be always right, and frankness of speech is not to be commended when its conclusions are built up by unsound reasoning on incorrect data; besides, by plain speaking you may frequently wound a sensitive person, and one, too, having quite as noble views of things as yourself. People who pride themselves on speaking their minds are generally very vain of their opinions, and forgetful of the old motto as to the good intentions with which a certain place is said to be paved. 12. Never burden ladies with arguments. They are very wise in dreading them as they do. 13. Treat females as becomes them, and indulge none of those vanities, so prevalent at the present day, of regarding women as inferior beings. 14. Swearing, coarse jokes, indecent anecdotes, slang phrases, and personal allusions are very common, but not the less unprofitable, unreasonable, ungentlemanly, low, and reprehensible. Avoid them; they are the puddles of the mind, in which the more we dabble the more we are soiled, degraded, and lessened in the esteem both of others and ourselves.
DINING OUT.--When entering where you are invited to dine make your obeisance to the lady of the house, and do not consider yourself a guest until you have seen her. In leading a lady down stairs do not rush forward and perform the task clumsily. In going down the lady should have the widest side, supposing the stair to have a wide and narrow side, as is the case with winding staircases. But it is better to take the wrong side at once than stand perplexed, or to change sides after once having given a lady your arm. The rule is for the lady you take down to sit on your right hand; but when you take down the hostess you should sit on her right hand--namely, in the seat of honour. Of course every guest cannot enjoy this privilege, hence, where there are many invited, the host either assigns her to some favoured guest, or the most elderly gentleman, or party of highest rank, assumes the office. It is always better for the host to request some person, whom he considers his chief guest, to take down the lady of the house. The other ladies are paired off in the same manner by the host, whose duty it is to arrange the company so that they may sit in comfort at the meal. The host himself selects the chief lady visitor, and leads her off first. The hostess sees all down before leaving, therefore, if you are to escort her, allow her time to usher her guests away. A stickler for etiquette, in writing on this subject, says--
“A custom, lately come in, seems to be deservedly gaining ground: instead of sitting at the top and bottom of the table, the host and hostess sit opposite each other at the middle; by which means they are more at ease, more in the centre of their guests, and better able to communicate with each other. George IV. adopted this practice twenty years ago: it is followed by the present queen. According to this arrangement, two persons can be accommodated at each end of the table--not a bad point where there is limited accommodation.
“A dinner party usually lasts four hours. If you go at six, you may order your carriage at ten; if at seven, it may come at eleven; and so on. What dinner hours are by-and-bye to come to I cannot tell. Not many years ago, dinner at five o’clock was thought mighty genteel; then we had half-past five; next came six, and six and a-half--both of which are now general; but seven is also far from uncommon. That the fashionable dinner hour will be pushed on to eight, to nine, or to ten, is what we may reasonably expect. When it comes to this pass, will dinner bound back to its ancient hours, or will it be extinguished as a formal meal?”
Fashion runs mad occasionally, and it has lately done so in thrusting the task of carving on ladies. This must be regarded as a blunder we should hope soon to be corrected. The task of carving is no light one--it is really a masculine operation, and utterly inappropriate for the style of ladies’ dresses, manners, and manual weakness. What fashion insists on, in this respect, common sense must condemn.
You must make yourself as useful as possible at the dinner-table, and be attentive in supplying the wants of others, especially ladies, but avoid obtruding your services. Reaching across the table is very vulgar, as it is also to indulge any peculiarities of appetite, such as eating condiments with dishes with which they are not usually accompanied. I knew an elderly gentleman who always insisted on having mustard with his pastry, so that when his favourite condiment had been removed it had to be brought back for him, causing considerable disturbance. Good sense will dictate to a person rather to refrain from eating a particular dish than disarrange the table in order to gratify an eccentric whim.
To eat quick, or very slow, are marks of ill-breeding; and to put your nose in your plate, or emit that peculiar bubbling sound, which some indulge in when imbibing soup, vulgar and obnoxious. Coughing and sneezing are not always to be avoided, but much may be done to conserve elegance and propriety at dinner in checking these and other infirmities.
It is very painful to see a joint carved ungracefully, but nothing but practice will enable you to carve well. Novices in life have a great dread of carving poultry, but it is a less difficult operation than is usually imagined; and I would advise my readers to practice at home, and acquire ease in such duties before incurring the responsibility at a friend’s table. It is better to request some one near you to carve a fowl than to run the risk of spoiling the bird, and at the same time bespattering some lady’s dress with the gravy. But guard against bashfulness in such matters; do with confidence whatever you feel you can do well, or you will endanger the comfort of yourself and others.
DINING AT HOME.--When you invite several friends to dine with you have your dinner ready within a short time after the hour named, but not punctually to a moment, that any who have not arrived may not feel slighted at your having commenced dinner. Do not invite, at the same time, persons who are not on terms with each other, though it is a delicate matter, always, to take into consideration other people’s differences. Among kindred it is often advisable to pursue an opposite course--for many a friendship, among relatives, is renewed at another table, where petty differences are, of course, to be forgotten. Study the tastes of your guests; and if there is any particular dish which your visitors will prefer, set it before them, and with the remark, “I think I noticed you to prefer this or that;” or, “I think you are partial to so-and-so, I therefore obtained it for you.” If you go out of your way to humour your friend you are not to be too modest to let him know it, though you are not to exaggerate your attention, and make him feel that you burden him with attentions.
DRINKING HEALTHS has happily gone out of fashion. Except in bachelor’s parties, where a few old-school notions are preserved, it is considered very unpolite to give toasts and healths.
DISPUTES lead to discord; and a man fond of disputation soon gets the repute of a quibbler. Objections may be politely taken without involving the objector in a controversy. The polite man avoids anything which may lead to a protracted debate.
DRESS.--The hostess should be particularly careful not to outshine her guests. I have seen many instances where ladies, fond of dress (and what lady is not fond of dress), and conscious that it is unbecoming to dress to excess when visitors are invited, yet so unable to restrain the desire of display, have made the whole of her guests look shabby, by the contrast of her own gay colours. To dress meanly is a mark of disrespect to the company, but it is equally so to make a very gay appearance. If you make a grand display yourself you are apt to appear as if you wished to parade your appearance, and it is always safer to be under than over the mark. In going out consider the sort of company you are likely to meet, and endeavour to assimilate to them as much as possible--for to make a great display elsewhere is an evidence of bad taste. But here, if you miss the happy medium, dress above the mark rather than below it, for you may dress more out of doors than you may at home. Where dancing is expected to take place no one should go without new kid gloves; nothing is so revolting as to see one person in an assembly ungloved, especially where the heat of the room, and the exercise together, are sure to make the hands redder than usual. Gentlemen seldom indulge in gaudy or light colours; but quasi-gentlemen do blaze a little in this way, and carry their character with them accordingly. The abolition of the white neckcloth is, in my opinion, to be regretted; still, fashion has declared it shall be used no longer, and at the most recherche assemblies the gentlemen all wear black stocks or neckerchiefs.
ECCENTRICITIES should never be indulged away from home. They are rather the tokens of vanity, than the evidences of peculiar idiosyncracies. An eccentric man is always dreaded; and though the world has been indulgent, in this respect, to a few great geniuses, it is usually very harsh on the matter to ordinary mortals. Besides, no man was ever great by virtue of his peculiarities, but in spite of them.
EXCESSES.--It is very common to see persons eat, drink, and smoke to excess. Such habits are vulgar in the lowest degree. Some men pride themselves on their abilities in drinking and smoking--more especially in the latter. These are blunders that need no reasoning to expose them. The man who exhibits a tendency to excesses will, sooner or later, be shunned by all except a few of his own stamp, and not even by them be respected. Guard against excess in all things, as neither gentlemanly nor human.
ENGAGEMENTS.--Some time ago it was fashionable for parties to arrive some time after the appointed hour. Fashion now insists on punctuality--and therein fashion is right. The unpunctual can never lay claim to gentility.
FAMILIARITY.--Too ready an adoption of familiarity is to be guarded against; and it is a blunder very frequently made for a person to consider himself on terms of intimacy with another after one pleasant conversation with him. You may be delighted with a man the first time you hear him discourse, but you are not, therefore, to consider yourself his intimate friend. Eminent literary men, who usually entertain the company vastly wherever they go, and whose society is much sought after, are especially apt to be annoyed by the ready familiarity of persons, of whom they know nothing more than that, on some previous occasion, they met at dinner. I remember a case in point:--A person of not very bright parts or fashionable associations, met for the first time an eminent writer, Mr. C---- D----. Delighted by his conversation, and assured by his affability, this person got up a party expressly to invite Mr. C---- D----, and possibly, also, to display him to his friends as an intimate acquaintance. The other saw through the trick the moment the invitation arrived, and at once accepted it. The evening came, then the guests, and lastly Mr. C---- D----. All eyes were fixed on him--he was as attractive as a prize ox. All ears were attentive, and the happy moment, when he should begin to talk, waited for with many heart-beatings. But he was too deep for them; he sat for hours, drank coffee, wine, answered a few questions, but otherwise spoke not a word. The whole affair was a miserable failure, and Mr. C---- D---- went away, satisfied, no doubt, in having inflicted a merited punishment on ill-judged familiarity, and perhaps resolved to tell the story some day, better than I have done, in one of his inimitable works.
FAVOURS are to be offered without show of patronage, and accepted without servile gratitude. Not to acknowledge a favour gracefully is unpardonable, but to load the donor with sickly gratitude a blunder most abominable.
FIDGETTING.--Very many people, who have acquired fidgetty ways, carry them wherever they go to the annoyance of all who meet them. I once had a visitor who nibbled up a whole bundle of cigar lights in the course of an evening, and while so engaged with his fingers and teeth, rubbed a hole with his foot in a new Brussels carpet. Shifting about in a chair, putting the legs now on the fender, now under the table, scratching at pimples, biting the lip, &c., are fidgetty actions, destructive of a polite bearing.
FRIENDSHIP AND ACQUAINTANCE are to be distinguished from each other in worldly affairs. Acquaintances sometimes become the depositories of secrets which should be even guardedly told to friends. Be wary how you treat a mere acquaintance, that you do not place your affairs in his hands, and on the slightest rupture regret having reposed in him too much confidence. Acquaintances made at convivial meetings are generally as hollow as the meetings themselves. Under the temptations of hospitality men confide in each other more than wisdom would dictate, and the “evening’s diversions” do not always “bear the morning’s reflections.”
HOMELY PARTIES.--There is a class of recreation that cannot be too much praised, and which people, in middle class life, are very apt in making as nearly perfect as possible. These are Christmas gatherings, birthday and other feasts, and friendly tea-drinkings, where comfort and hospitality reign above fashion. Yet, though fashionable arrangements do not extensively prevail in these, what we hint at, as necessary in social gatherings of a higher kind, is not to be neglected here. Politeness of manner, affability of temper, decorum, and proper taste in dress are things to be considered; for though you are not required to observe strictly fashionable rules, but to enjoy yourself in body and mind, much of the comfort depends on the observance of trifles; and we advise all who love these unpretending entertainments to study their behaviour as much in these cases as they would for more fashionable assemblies. Ease should be preferred to starched formality, but boorishness should not disgrace the familiarity which is offered by the host, and expected from the guest.
HOSPITALITY goes hand in hand with politeness. When you invite friends do not treat your own invitation so lightly that it shall appear you do not value your company. Study to please and to afford enjoyment, and, in a modest manner, let your guests see that you do study them, and their pleasure will be enhanced.
HURRY.--A man of sense never exhibits haste. A thing done in a hurry is not likely to be well done. Some men of business pride themselves on being always pressed for time, they think it displays activity of mind; but, on the contrary, it exhibits weakness and vulgar breeding. Ease of action does not imply sluggishness of mind, nor does undue haste betoken importance.
IMITATION.--There are few who can resist the tendency of human nature to imitate. Let one young man of a group take to swearing, and the rest of his juvenile friends will immediately follow the practice. I have known the style of conversation, in a complete circle of acquaintance, to be changed by the peculiarities of one of its members; impressed with those peculiarities, the rest have set about apeing him to the best of their poor abilities, and succeeded in making themselves ridiculous. There is a passage in Shirley Hibberd’s story of “Cloribel,” which we would offer here as a motto for every sensible youth, “Be thyself and none other, and we will love thee, whatsoe’er thou art.” Imitate the perfections, not the vices, the excellencies rather than the blemishes of a man; but preserve your individuality as far as you are able.
INTRODUCTIONS should be performed with great grace and judgment. Be careful, too, whom you introduce; I have seen more than one friend ruined by an ill-judged introduction. It is a common blunder to introduce persons in the street. If you meet an acquaintance when you have a friend on your arm, bow and pass on with a “good day,” or similar greeting, unless there be special reasons for halting. We only reprobate street introductions as a rule. There are exceptions to that as to all rules. We have once or twice been mortified by a sudden introduction on a door-step. Consider time and place. It is necessary, too, in most cases, to ask permission of a friend before you introduce him to another; and a lady must be introduced to a gentleman, not a gentleman to a lady.
INVITATIONS.--The writer from whom we have already quoted, says on this subject, “When you ask a person to dinner, let it, if possible, be done a week or ten days in advance; because, to ask a person only a day or two days before, looks as if you had been disappointed of somebody else, and had asked him as a mere stop-gap. A short invitation is only allowable for off-hand parties, or with strangers who are passing through a town.
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