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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Laws of Etiquette, by A Gentleman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The Laws of Etiquette
+
+Author: A Gentleman
+
+Release Date: August 7, 2002 [eBook #5681]
+[Most recently updated: September 8, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Holly Ingraham
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAWS OF ETIQUETTE ***
+
+
+
+
+The Laws of Etiquette
+
+or,
+Short Rules and Reflections
+
+for
+CONDUCT IN SOCIETY.
+
+by A Gentleman
+
+PHILADELPHIA:
+
+1836.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note: Note the inconsistency of “Brummell” in one place
+of the original, and “Brummel” all other places. Also “Shakspeare,”
+“Don Quixotte,” “Sir Piercy,” and “Esop” are as in the original.
+
+
+Contents
+
+ PREFACE
+ INTRODUCTION
+ CHAPTER I. GOOD BREEDING.
+ CHAPTER II. DRESS.
+ CHAPTER III. SALUTATIONS.
+ CHAPTER IV. THE DRAWING-ROOM. COMPANY. CONVERSATION.
+ CHAPTER V. THE ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.
+ CHAPTER VI. LETTERS.
+ CHAPTER VII. VISITS.
+ CHAPTER VIII. APPOINTMENTS AND PUNCTUALITY.
+ CHAPTER IX. DINNER.
+ CHAPTER X. TRAVELLING.
+ CHAPTER XI. BALLS.
+ CHAPTER XII. FUNERALS.
+ CHAPTER XIII. SERVANTS.
+ CHAPTER XIV. FASHION.
+ CHAPTER XV. MISCELLANEOUS.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The author of the present volume has endeavoured to embody, in as short
+a space as possible, some of the results of his own experience and
+observation in society, and submits the work to the public, with the
+hope that the remarks which are contained in it, may prove available
+for the benefit of others. It is, of course, scarcely possible that
+anything original should be found in a volume like this: almost all
+that it contains must have fallen under the notice of every man of
+penetration who has been in the habit of frequenting good society. Many
+of the precepts have probably been contained in works of a similar
+character which have appeared in England and France since the days of
+Lord Chesterfield. Nothing however has been copied from them in the
+compilation of this work, the author having in fact scarcely any
+acquaintance with books of this description, and many years having
+elapsed since he has opened even the pages of the noble oracle. He has
+drawn entirely from his own resources, with the exception of some hints
+for arrangement, and a few brief reflections, which have been derived
+from the French.
+
+The present volume is almost apart from criticism. It has no
+pretensions to be judged as a literary work—its sole merit depending
+upon its correctness and fitness of application. Upon these grounds he
+ventures to hope for it a favourable reception.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+The great error into which nearly all foreigners and most Americans
+fall, who write or speak of society in this country, arises from
+confounding the political with the social system. In most other
+countries, in England, France, and all those nations whose government
+is monarchical or aristocratic, these systems are indeed similar.
+Society is there intimately connected with the government, and the
+distinctions in one are the origin of gradations in the other. The
+chief part of the society of the kingdom is assembled in the capital,
+and the same persons who legislate for the country legislate also for
+it. But in America the two systems are totally unconnected, and
+altogether different in character. In remodelling the form of the
+administration, society remained unrepublican. There is perfect freedom
+of political privilege, all are the same upon the hustings, or at a
+political meeting; but this equality does not extend to the
+drawing-room or the parlour. None are excluded from the highest
+councils of the nation, but it does not follow that all can enter into
+the highest ranks, of society. In point of fact, we think that there is
+more exclusiveness in the society of this country, than there is in
+that even of England—far more than there is in France. And the
+explanation may perhaps be found in the fact which we hate mentioned
+above. There being _there_ less danger of permanent disarrangement or
+confusion of ranks by the occasional admission of the low-born
+aspirant, there does not exist the same necessity for a jealous
+guarding of the barriers as there does here. The distinction of
+classes, also, after the first or second, is actually more clearly
+defined, and more rigidly observed in America, than in any country of
+Europe. Persons unaccustomed to look searchingly at these matters, may
+be surprised to hear it; but we know from observation, that there are
+among the respectable, in any city of the United States, at least ten
+distinct ranks. We cannot, of course, here point them out, because we
+could not do it without mentioning names.
+
+Every man is naturally desirous of finding entrance into the best
+society of his country, and it becomes therefore a matter of importance
+to ascertain what qualifications are demanded for admittance.
+
+A writer who is popularly unpopular, has remarked, that the test of
+standing in Boston, is literary eminence; in New York, wealth; and in
+Philadelphia, purity of blood.
+
+To this remark, we can only oppose our opinion, that none of these are
+indispensable, and none of them sufficient. The society of this
+country, unlike that of England, does not court literary talent. We
+have cases in our recollection, which prove the remark, in relation to
+the highest ranks, even of Boston. Wealth has no pretensions to be the
+standard anywhere. In New York, the Liverpool of America, although the
+rich may make greater display and _bruit_, yet all of the merely rich,
+will find that there does exist a small and unchanging circle, whether
+above or below them, ‘it is not ours to say,’ yet completely apart from
+them, into which they would rejoice to find entrance, and from which
+they would be glad to receive emigrants.
+
+Whatever may be the accomplishments necessary to render one capable of
+reaching the highest platform of social eminence, and it is not easy to
+define clearly what they are, there is one thing, and one alone, which
+will enable any man to _retain_ his station there; and that is, GOOD
+BREEDING. Without it, we believe that literature, wealth, and even
+blood, will be unsuccessful. By it, if it co-exist with a certain
+capacity of affording pleasure by conversation, any one, we imagine,
+could frequent the very best society in every city of America, and
+_perhaps the very best alone._ To obtain, then, the manners of a
+gentleman is a matter of no small importance.
+
+We do not pretend that a man will be metamorphosed into a gentleman by
+reading this book, or any other book. Refined manners are like refined
+style which Cicero compares to the colour of the cheeks, which is not
+acquired by sudden or violent exposure to heat, but by continual
+walking in the sun. Good manners can certainly only be acquired by much
+usage in good company. But there are a number of little forms,
+imperiously enacted by custom, which may be taught in this manner, and
+the conscious ignorance of which often prevents persons from going into
+company at all.
+
+These forms may be abundantly absurd, but still they _must_ be attended
+to; for one half the world does and always will observe them, and the
+other half is at a great disadvantage if it does not. Intercourse is
+constantly taking place, and an awkward man of letters, in the society
+of a polished man of the world, is like a strong man contending with a
+skilful fencer. Mr. Addison says, that he once saw the ablest
+mathematician in the kingdom utterly embarrassed, from not knowing
+whether he ought to stand or sit when my lord duke drank his health.
+
+Some of the many errors which are liable to be committed through
+ignorance of usage, are pleasantly pointed out in the following story,
+which is related by a French writer.
+
+The Abbé Cosson, professor in the _Collége Mazarin_, thoroughly
+accomplished in the art of teaching, saturated with Greek, Latin, and
+literature, considered himself a perfect well of science: he had no
+conception that a man who knew all Persius and Horace by heart could
+possibly commit an error—above all, an error at table. But it was not
+long before he discovered his mistake. One day, after dining with the
+Abbé de Radonvillers at Versailles, in company with several courtiers
+and marshals of France, he was boasting of the rare acquaintance with
+etiquette and custom which he had exhibited at dinner. The Abbé
+Delille, who heard this eulogy upon his own conduct, interrupted his
+harangue, by offering to wager that he had committed at least a hundred
+improprieties at the table. “How is it possible!” exclaimed Cosson. “I
+did exactly like the rest of the company.”
+
+“What absurdity!” said the other. “You did a thousand things which no
+one else did. First, when you sat down at the table, what did you do
+with your napkin?” “My napkin? Why just what every body else did with
+theirs. I unfolded it entire]y, and fastened it to my buttonhole.”
+“Well, my dear friend,” said Delille, “you were the only one that did
+_that_, at all events. No one hangs up his napkin in that style; they
+are contented with placing it on their knees. And what did you, do when
+you took your soup?” “Like the others, I believe. I took my spoon in
+one hand, and my fork in the other—” “Your fork! Who ever eat soup with
+a fork?—But to proceed; after your soup, what did you eat?” “A fresh
+egg.” “And what did you do with the shell?” “Handed it to the servant
+who stood behind my chair.” “With out breaking it?” “Without breaking
+it, of course.” “Well, my dear Abbé, nobody ever eats an egg without
+breaking the shell. And after your egg—?” “I asked the Abbé
+Radonvillers to send me a piece of the hen near him.” “Bless my soul! a
+piece of the _hen_? You never speak of hens excepting in the barn-yard.
+You should have asked for fowl or chicken. But you say nothing of your
+mode of drinking.” “Like all the rest, I asked for _claret_ and
+_champagne._” “Let me inform you, then, that persons always ask for
+_claret wine_ and _champagne wine._ But, tell me, how did you eat your
+bread?” “Surely I did that properly. I cut it with my knife, in the
+most regular manner possible.” “Bread should always be broken, not cut.
+But the coffee, how did you manage it?” “It was rather too hot, and I
+poured a little of it into my saucer.” “Well, you committed here the
+greatest fault of all. You should never pour your coffee into the
+saucer, but always drink it from the cup.” The poor Abbé was
+confounded. He felt that though one might be master of the seven
+sciences, yet that there was another species of knowledge which, if
+less dignified, was equally important.
+
+This occurred many years ago, but there is not one of the observances
+neglected by the Abbé Cosson, which is not enforced with equal
+rigidness in the present day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+GOOD BREEDING.
+
+
+The formalities of refined society were at first established for the
+purpose of facilitating the intercourse of persons of the same
+standing, and increasing the happiness of all to whom they apply. They
+are now kept up, both to assist the convenience of intercourse and to
+prevent too great familiarity. If they are carried too far, and escape
+from the control of good sense, they become impediments to enjoyment.
+Among the Chinese they serve only the purpose of annoying to an
+incalculable degree. “The government,” says De Marcy, in writing of
+China, “constantly applies itself to preserve, not only in the court
+and among the great, but among the people themselves, a constant habit
+of civility and courtesy. The Chinese have an infinity of books upon
+such subjects; one of these treatises contains more than three thousand
+articles.— Everything is pointed out with the most minute detail; the
+manner of saluting, of visiting, of making presents, of writing
+letters, of eating, etc.: and these customs have the force of laws—no
+one can dispense with them. There is a special tribunal at Peking, of
+which it is one of the chief duties, to ensure the observance of these
+civil ordinances?”
+
+One would think that one was here reading an account of the capital of
+France. It depends, then, upon the spirit in which these forms are
+observed, whether their result shall be beneficial or not. The French
+and the Chinese are the most formal of all the nations. Yet the one is
+the stiffest and most distant; the other, the easiest and most social.
+
+“We may define politeness,” says La Bruyère, “though we cannot tell
+where to fix it in practice. It observes received usages and customs,
+is bound to times and places, and is not the same thing in the two
+sexes or in different conditions. Wit alone cannot obtain it: it is
+acquired and brought to perfection by emulation. Some dispositions
+alone are susceptible of politeness, as others are only capable of
+great talents or solid virtues. It is true politeness puts merit
+forward, and renders it agreeable, and a man must have eminent
+qualifications to support himself without it.” Perhaps even the
+greatest merit cannot successfully straggle against unfortunate and
+disagreeable manners. Lord Chesterfield says that the Duke of
+Marlborough owed his first promotions to the suavity of his manners,
+and that without it he could not have risen.
+
+La Bruyère has elsewhere given this happy definition of politeness, the
+other passage being rather a description of it. “Politeness seems to be
+a certain care, by the manner of our words and actions, to make others
+pleased with us and themselves.”
+
+We must here stop to point out an error which is often committed both
+in practice and opinion, and which consists in confounding together the
+gentleman and the man of fashion. No two characters can be more
+distinct than these. Good sense and self-respect are the foundations of
+the one—notoriety and influence the objects of the other. Men of
+fashion are to be seen everywhere: a pure and mere gentleman is the
+rarest thing alive. Brummel was a man of fashion; but it would be a
+perversion of terms to apply to him “a very expressive word in our
+language,—a word, denoting an assemblage of many real virtues and of
+many qualities approaching to virtues, and an union of manners at once
+pleasing and commanding respect,— the word gentleman.”* The requisites
+to compose this last character are natural ease of manner, and an
+acquaintance with the “outward habit of encounter”—dignity and
+self-possession—a respect for all the decencies of life, and perfect
+freedom from all affectation. Dr. Johnson’s bearing during his
+interview with the king showed him to be a thorough gentleman, and
+demonstrates how rare and elevated that character is. When his majesty
+expressed in the language of compliment his high opinion of Johnson’s
+merits, the latter bowed in silence. If Chesterfield could have
+retained sufficient presence of mind to have done the same on such an
+occasion, he would have applauded himself to the end of his days. So
+delicate is the nature of those qualities that constitute a gentleman,
+that there is but one exhibition of this description of persons in all
+the literary and dramatic fictions from Shakespeare downward. Scott has
+not attempted it. Bulwer, in “Pelham,” has shot wide of the mark. It
+was reserved for the author of two very singular productions,
+“Sydenham” and its continuation “Alice Paulet”—works of extraordinary
+merits and extraordinary faults—to portray this character completely,
+in the person of Mr. Paulet.
+
+* Charles Butler’s Reminiscences
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+DRESS.
+
+
+First impressions are apt to be permanent; it is therefore of
+importance that they should be favourable. The dress of an individual
+is that circumstance from which you first form your opinion of him. It
+is even more prominent than manner, It is indeed the only thing which
+is remarked in a casual encounter, or during the first interview. It,
+therefore, should be the first care.
+
+What style is to our thoughts, dress is to our persons. It may supply
+the place of more solid qualities, and without it the most solid are
+of little avail. Numbers have owed their elevation to their attention
+to the toilet. Place, fortune, marriage have all been lost by
+neglecting it. A man need not mingle long with the world to find
+occasion to exclaim with Sedaine, “Ah! mon habit, que je vous
+remercie!” In spite of the proverb, the dress often _does_ make the
+monk.
+
+Your dress should always be consistent with your age and your natural
+exterior. That which looks outr, on one man, will be agreeable on
+another. As success in this respect depends almost entirely upon
+particular circumstances and personal peculiarities, it is impossible
+to give general directions of much importance. We can only point out
+the field for study and research; it belongs to each one’s own genius
+and industry to deduce the results. However ugly you may be, rest
+assured that there is some style of habiliment which will make you
+passable.
+
+If, for example, you have a stain upon your cheek which rivals in
+brilliancy the best Chateau-Margout; or, are afflicted with a nose
+whose lustre dims the ruby, you may employ such hues of dress, that the
+eye, instead of being shocked by the strangeness of the defect, will be
+charmed by the graceful harmony of the colours. Every one cannot indeed
+be an Adonis, but it is his own fault if he is an Esop.
+
+If you have bad, squinting eyes, which have lost their lashes and are
+bordered with red, you should wear spectacles. If the defect be great,
+your glasses should be coloured. In such cases emulate the sky rather
+than the sea: green spectacles are an abomination, fitted only for
+students in divinity,— blue ones are respectable and even _distingué._
+
+Almost every defect of face may be concealed by a judicious use and
+arrangement of hair. Take care, however, that your hair be not of one
+colour and your whiskers of another; and let your wig be large enough
+to cover the _whole_ of your red or white hair.
+
+It is evident, therefore, that though a man may be ugly, there is no
+necessity for his being shocking. Would that all men were convinced of
+this! I verily believe that if Mr. — in his walking-dress, and Mr. — in
+his evening costume were to meet alone, in some solitary place, where
+there was nothing to divert their attention from one another, they
+would expire of mutual hideousness.
+
+If you have any defect, so striking and so ridiculous as to procure you
+a _nickname_ then indeed there is but one remedy,—renounce society.
+
+In the morning, before eleven o’clock even if you go out, you should
+not be dressed. You would be stamped a _parvenu_ if you were seen in
+anything better than a reputable old frock coat. If you remain at home,
+and are a bachelor, it is permitted to receive visitors in a morning
+gown. In summer, calico; in winter, figured cloth, faced with fur. At
+dinner, a coat, of course, is indispensable.
+
+The effect of a frock coat is to conceal the height. If, therefore, you
+are beneath the ordinary statue, or much above it, you should affect
+frock coats on all occasions that etiquette permits.
+
+Before going to a ball or party it is not sufficient that you consult
+your mirror twenty times. You must be personally inspected by your
+servant or a friend. Through defect of this, I once saw a gentleman
+enter a ball-room, attired with scrupulous elegance, but with one of
+his suspenders curling in graceful festoons about his feet. His glass
+could not show what was behind.
+
+If you are about to present yourself in a company composed only of men,
+you may wear boots. If there be but one lady present, pumps and
+silk-stockings are indispensable.
+
+There is a common proverb which says, that if a man be well dressed as
+to head and feet, he may present himself everywhere. The assertion is
+as false as Mr. Kemble’s voice. Happy indeed if it were necessary to
+perfect only the extremities. The coat, the waistcoat, the gloves, and,
+above all, the cravat, must be alike ignorant of blemish.
+
+Upon the subject of the cravat—(for heaven’s sake and Brummel’s, never
+appear in a stock after twelve o’clock)—We cannot at present say
+anything. If we were to say anything, we could not be content without
+saying all, and to say all would require a folio. A book has been
+published upon the subject, entitled “The Cravat considered in its
+moral, literary, political, military, and religious attributes.” This
+and a clever, though less profound, treatise on “The art of tying the
+Cravat,” are as indispensable to a gentleman as an ice at twelve
+o’clock.
+
+When we speak of excellence in dress we do not mean richness of
+clothing, nor manifested elaboration. Faultless propriety, perfect
+harmony, and a refined simplicity,—these are the charms which fascinate
+here.
+
+It is as great a sin to be finical in dress as to be negligent.
+
+Upon this subject the ladies are the only infallible oracles. Apart
+from the perfection to which they must of necessity arrive, from
+devoting their entire existence to such considerations, they seem to be
+endued with an inexpressible tact, a sort of sixth sense, which reveals
+intuitively the proper distinctions. That your dress is approved by a
+man is nothing;—you cannot enjoy the high satisfaction of being
+perfectly comme il faut, until your performance has received the seal
+of a woman’s approbation.
+
+If the benefits to be derived from cultivating your exterior do not
+appear sufficiently powerful to induce attention, the inconveniences
+arising from too great disregard may perhaps prevail. Sir Matthew Hale,
+in the earlier part of his life, dressed so badly that he was once
+seized by the press-gang. Not long since, as I entered the hall of a
+public hotel, I saw a person so villainously habited, that supposing
+him to be one of the servants, I desired him to take my luggage
+upstairs, and was on the point of offering him a shilling, when I
+discovered that I was addressing the Honorable Mr. * * *, one of the
+most eminent American statesmen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+SALUTATIONS.
+
+
+The salutation, says a French writer, is the touchstone of good
+breeding. According to circumstances, it should be respectful, cordial,
+civil, affectionate or familiar:—an inclination of the head, a gesture
+with the hand, the touching or doffing of the hat.
+
+If you remove your hat you need not at the same time bend the dorsal
+vertebræ of your body, unless you wish to be very reverential, as in
+saluting a bishop.
+
+It is a mark of high breeding not to speak to a lady in the street,
+until you perceive that she has noticed you by an inclination of the
+head.
+
+Some ladies _courtesy_ in the street, a movement not gracefully
+consistent with locomotion. They should always _bow._
+
+If an individual of the lowest rank, or without any rank at all, takes
+off his hat to you, you should do the same in return. A bow, says La
+Fontaine, is a note drawn at sight. If you acknowledge it, you must pay
+the full amount. The two best-bred men in England, Charles the Second
+and George the Fourth, never failed to take off their hats to the
+meanest of their subjects.
+
+Avoid condescending bows to your friends and equals. If you meet a rich
+parvenu, whose consequence you wish to reprove, you may salute him in a
+very patronizing manner: or else, in acknowledging his bow, look
+somewhat surprised and say, “Mister—eh—eh?”
+
+If you have remarkably fine teeth, you may smile affectionately upon
+the bowee, without speaking.
+
+In passing ladies of rank, whom you meet in society, bow, but do not
+speak.
+
+If you have anything to say to any one in the street, especially a
+lady, however intimate you may be, do not stop the person, but turn
+round and walk in company; you can take leave at the end of the street.
+
+If there is any one of your acquaintance, with whom you have a
+difference, do not avoid looking at him, unless from the nature of
+things the quarrel is necessarily for life. It is almost always better
+to bow with cold civility, though without speaking.
+
+As a general rule never _cut_ any one in the street. Even political and
+steamboat acquaintances should be noticed by the slightest movement in
+the world. If they presume to converse with you, or stop you to
+introduce their companion, it is then time to use your eye-glass, and
+say, “I never knew you.”
+
+If you address a lady in the open air, you remain uncovered until she
+has desired you _twice_ to put on your hat. In general, if you are in
+any place where _etiquette_ requires you to remain uncovered or
+standing, and a lady, or one much your superior, requests you to be
+covered or to sit, you may how off the command. If it is repeated, you
+should comply. You thereby pay the person a marked, but delicate,
+compliment, by allowing their will to be superior to the general
+obligations of etiquette.
+
+When two Americans, who “have not been introduced,” meet in some public
+place, as in a theatre, a stagecoach, or a steamboat, they will sit for
+an hour staring in one another’s faces, but without a word of
+conversation. This form of unpoliteness has been adopted from the
+English, and it is as little worthy of imitation as the form of their
+government. Good sense and convenience are the foundations of good
+breeding; and it is assuredly vastly more reasonable and more agreeable
+to enjoy a passing gratification, when no sequent evil is to be
+apprehended, than to be rendered uncomfortable by an ill-founded pride.
+It is therefore better to carry on an easy and civil conversation. A
+snuff-box, or some polite accommodation rendered, may serve for an
+opening. Talk only about generalities,—the play, the roads, the
+weather. Avoid speaking of persons or politics, for, if the individual
+is of the opposite party to yourself, you will be engaged in a
+controversy: if he holds the same opinions, you will be overwhelmed
+with a flood of vulgar intelligence, which may soil your mind. Be
+reservedly civil while the colloquy lasts, and let the acquaintance
+cease with the occasion.
+
+When you are introduced to a gentleman do not give your hand, but
+merely bow with politeness: and if you have requested the introduction,
+or know the person by reputation, you may make a speech. I am aware
+that high authority might easily be found in this country to sanction
+the custom of giving the hand upon a first meeting, but it is
+undoubtedly a solecism in manners. The habit has been adopted by us,
+with some improvement for the worse, from France. When two Frenchmen
+are presented to one another, each _presses_ the other’s hand with
+delicate affection. The English, however, never do so: and the
+practice, if abstractly correct, is altogether inconsistent with the
+caution of manner which is characteristic of their nation and our own.
+If we are to follow the French, in shaking hands with one whom we have
+never before seen, we should certainly imitate them also in kissing our
+_intimate_ male acquaintances. If, however, you ought only to bow to a
+new acquaintance, you surely should do more to old ones. If you meet an
+intimate friend fifty times in a morning, give your hand every time,—an
+observance of propriety, which, though worthy of universal adoption, is
+in this country only followed by the purists in politeness. The
+requisitions of etiquette, if they should be obeyed at all, should be
+obeyed fully. This decent formality prevents acquaintance from being
+too distant, while, at the same time, it preserves the “familiar” from
+becoming “vulgar.” They may be little things, but
+
+“These little things are great to little men.”
+
+Goldsmith.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+THE DRAWING-ROOM. COMPANY. CONVERSATION.
+
+
+The grand object for which a gentleman exists, is to excel in company.
+Conversation is the mean of his distinction,—the drawing-room the scene
+of his glory.
+
+When you enter a drawing-room, where there is a ball or a party, you
+salute the lady of the house before speaking to any one else. Even your
+most intimate friends are enveloped in an opaque atmosphere until you
+have made your bow to your entertainer. We must take occasion here to
+obelize a custom which prevails too generally in this country. The
+company enter the back door of the back parlour, and the mistress of
+the house is seated at the other extremity of the front parlour. It is
+therefore necessary to traverse the length of two rooms in order to
+reach her. A voyage of this kind is by no means an easy undertaking,
+when there are Circes and Calypsos assailing one on every side; and
+when one has reached the conclusion, one cannot perhaps distinguish the
+object of one’s search at a _coup d’œil._ It would be in every point of
+view more appropriate if the lady were to stand directly opposite to
+the door of the back parlour. Such is the custom in the best companies
+abroad. Upon a single gentleman entering at a late hour, it is not so
+obligatory to speak first to the mistress of the ceremonies. He may be
+allowed to converge his way up to her. When you leave a room before the
+others, go without speaking to any one, and, if possible, unseen.
+
+Never permit the sanctity of the drawing-room to be violated by a boot.
+
+Fashionable society is divided into _sets_, in all of which there is
+some peculiarity of manner, or some dominant tone of feeling. It is
+necessary to study these peculiarities before entering the circle.
+
+In each of these sets there is generally some _gentleman_, who rules,
+and gives it its character, or, rather, who is not ruler, but the first
+and most favoured subject, and the prime minister of the ladies’ will.
+Him you must endeavour to imitate, taking care not to imitate him so
+well as to excel him. To differ in manner or opinion from him is to
+render yourself unfit for that circle. To speak disrespectfully of him
+is to insult personally every lady who composes it.
+
+In company, though none are “free,” yet all are “equal.” All therefore
+whom you meet, should be treated with equal respect, although interest
+may dictate toward each different degrees of attention. It is
+disrespectful to the inviter to shun any of her guests. Those whom she
+has honoured by asking to her house, you should sanction by admitting
+to your acquaintance.
+
+If you meet any one whom you have never heard of before at the table of
+a gentleman, or in the drawing-room of a lady, you may converse with
+him with entire propriety. The form of “introduction” is nothing more
+than a statement by a mutual friend that two gentlemen are by rank and
+manners fit acquaintances for one another. All this may be presumed
+from the fact, that both meet at a respectable house. This is the
+theory of the matter. Custom, however, requires that you should take
+the earliest opportunity afterwards to be regularly presented to such
+an one.
+
+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 professions. Do not talk
+of politics with 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. The one considers that “Tous les hommes sont
+égaux devant la politesse:” the other remembers that though it may be
+agreeable to be patronised and assisted, yet it is still more agreeable
+to be treated as if you needed no patronage, and were above assistance.
+
+Sir Joshua Reynolds once received from two noblemen invitations to
+visit them on Sunday morning. The first, whom he waited upon, welcomed
+him with the most obsequious condescension, treated him with all the
+attention in the world, professed that he was so desirous of seeing
+him, that he had mentioned Sunday as the time for his visit, supposing
+him to be too much engaged during the week, to spare time enough for
+the purpose, concluded his compliments by an eulogy on painting, and
+smiled him affectionately to the door. Sir Joshua left him, to call
+upon the other. That one received him with respectful civility, and
+behaved to him as he would have behaved to an equal in the
+peerage:—said nothing about Raphael nor Correggio, but conversed with
+ease about literature and men. This nobleman was the Earl of
+Chesterfield. Sir Joshua felt, that though the one had said that he
+respected him, the other had proved that he did, and went away from
+this one gratified rather than from the first. Reader, there is wisdom
+in this anecdote. Mark, learn, and inwardly digest it: and let this be
+the moral which you deduce,—that there is distinction in society, but
+that there are no distinctions.
+
+The great business in company is conversation. It should be studied as
+art. Style in conversation is as important, and as capable of
+cultivation as style in writing. The manner of saying things is what
+gives them their value.
+
+The most important requisite for succeeding here, is constant and
+unfaltering attention. That which Churchill has noted as the greatest
+virtue on the stage, is also the most necessary in company,—to be
+“always attentive to the business of the scene.” Your understanding
+should, like your person, be armed at all points. Never go into society
+with your mind _en deshabille._ It is fatal to success to be all absent
+or _distrait._ The secret of conversation has been said to consist in
+building upon the remark of your companion. Men of the strongest minds,
+who have solitary habits and bookish dispositions, rarely excel in
+sprightly colloquy, because they seize upon the _thing_ itself,—the
+subject abstractly,—instead of attending to the _language_ of other
+speakers, and do not cultivate _verbal_ pleasantries and refinements.
+He who does otherwise gains a reputation for quickness, and pleases by
+showing that he has regarded the observation of others.
+
+It is an error to suppose that conversation consists in talking. A more
+important thing is to listen discreetly. Mirabeau said, that to succeed
+in the world, it is necessary to submit to be taught many things which
+you understand, by persons who know nothing about them. Flattery is the
+smoothest path to success; and the most refined and gratifying
+compliment you can pay, is to listen. “The wit of conversation consists
+more in finding it in others,” says La Bruyère, “than in showing a
+great deal yourself: he who goes from your conversation pleased with
+himself and his own wit, is perfectly well pleased with you. Most men
+had rather please than admire you, and seek less to be instructed,—nay,
+delighted,—than to be approved and applauded. The most delicate
+pleasure is to please another.”
+
+It is certainly proper enough to convince others of your merits. But
+the highest idea which you can give a man of your own penetration, is
+to be thoroughly impressed with his.
+
+Patience is a social engine, as well as a Christian virtue. To listen,
+to wait, and to be wearied are the certain elements of good fortune.
+
+If there be any foreigner present at a dinner party, or small evening
+party, who does not understand the language which is spoken, good
+breeding requires that the conversation should be carried on entirely
+in his language. Even among your most intimate friends, never address
+any one in a language not understood by all the others. It is as bad as
+whispering.
+
+Never speak to any one in company about a private affair which is not
+understood by others, as asking how _that_ matter is coming on, &c. In
+so doing you indicate your opinion that the rest are _de trop._ If you
+wish to make any such inquiries, always explain to others the business
+about which you inquire, if the subject admit of it.
+
+If upon the entrance of a visitor you continue a conversation begun
+before, you should always explain the subject to the new-comer.
+
+If there is any one in the company whom you do not know, be careful how
+you let off any epigrams or pleasant little sarcasms. You might be very
+witty upon halters to a man whose father had been hanged. The first
+requisite for successful conversation is to know your company well.
+
+We have spoken above of the necessity of relinquishing the prerogative
+of our race, and being contented with recipient silence. There is
+another precept of a kindred nature to be observed, namely, not to talk
+too well when you do talk. You do not raise yourself much in the
+opinion of another, if at the same time that you amuse him, you wound
+him in the nicest point,—his self-love. Besides irritating vanity, a
+constant flow of wit is excessively fatiguing to the listeners. A witty
+man is an agreeable acquaintance, but a tiresome friend. “The wit of
+the company, next to the butt of the company,” says Mrs. Montagu, “is
+the meanest person in it. The great duty of conversation is to follow
+suit, as you do at whist: if the eldest hand plays the deuce of
+diamonds, let not his next neighbour dash down the king of hearts,
+because his hand is full of honours. I do not love to see a man of wit
+win all the tricks in conversation.”
+
+In addressing any one, always look at him; and if there are several
+present, you will please more by directing some portion of your
+conversation, as an anecdote or statement, to each one individually in
+turn. This was the great secret of Sheridan’s charming manner. His
+bon-mots were not numerous.
+
+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 lately inquired of what branch of
+medical practice a certain gentleman was professor. He held the chair
+of _midwifery_!
+
+It is indispensable for conversation to be well acquainted with the
+current news and the historical events of the last few years. It is not
+convenient to be quite so far behind the rest of the world in such
+matters, as the Courier des Etats-Unis. That sapient journal lately
+announced the dethronement of Charles X. We may expect soon to hear of
+the accession of Louis Philippe.
+
+In society never quote. If you get entangled in a dispute with some
+learned blockhead, you may silence him with a few extemporary
+quotations. Select the author for whom he has the greatest admiration,
+and give him a passage in the style of that writer, which most
+pointedly condemns the opinion he supports. If it does not convince
+him, he will be so much stunned with amazement that you can make your
+escape, and avoid the unpleasant necessity of knocking him down.
+
+The ordinary weapons which one employs in social encounter, are,
+whether dignified or not, always at least honourable. There are some,
+however, who habitually prefer to bribe the judge, rather than
+strengthen their cause. The instrument of such is flattery. There are,
+indeed, cases in which a man of honour may use the same weapon; as
+there are cases in which a poisoned sword may be employed for
+self-defence.
+
+Flattery prevails over all, always, and in all places; it conquers the
+conqueror of Danäe: few are beneath it, none above it: the court, the
+camp, the church, are the scenes of its victories, and all mankind the
+subjects of its triumphs. It will be acknowledged, then, that a man
+possesses no very contemptible power who can flatter skillfully.
+
+The power of flattery may be derived from several sources. It may be,
+that the person flattered, finding himself gratified, and conscious
+that it is to the flatterer that he is indebted for this gratification,
+feels an obligation to him, without inquiring the reason; or it may be,
+that imagining ourselves to stand high in the good opinion of the one
+that praises us, We comply with what he desires, rather than forfeit
+that esteem: or, finally, flattery may be only a marked politeness, and
+we submit ourselves to the control of the flatterer rather than be
+guilty of the rudeness of opposing him.
+
+Flattery never should be direct. It should not be stated, but inferred.
+It is better acted than uttered. Flattery should seem to be the
+unwitting and even unwilling expression of genuine admiration. Some
+very weak persons do not require that expressions of praise and esteem
+toward them should be sincere. They are pleased with the incense,
+although they perceive whence it arises: they are pleased that they are
+of importance enough to have their favour courted. But in most eases it
+is necessary that the flattery should appear to be the honest offspring
+of the feelings. _Such_ flattery _must_ succeed; for, it is founded
+upon a principle in our nature which is as deep as life; namely, that
+we always love those who we think love us.
+
+It is sometimes flattery to accept praises.
+
+Never flatter one person in the presence of another.
+
+Never commend a lady’s musical skill to another lady who herself plays.
+
+It has often, however, a good effect to praise one man to his
+particular friend, if it be for something to which that friend has
+himself no pretensions.
+
+It is an error to imagine that men are less intoxicated with flattery
+than women. The only difference is that esteem must be expressed to
+women, but proved to men.
+
+Flattery is of course efficacious to obtain positive benefits. It is
+of, more constant use, however, for purposes of defence. You conquer an
+attack of rudeness by courtesy: you avert an attack of accusation by
+flattery. Every:one remembers the anecdote of Dr. Johnson and Mr.
+Ewing. “Prince,” said Napoleon to Talleyrand, “they tell me that you
+sometimes speculate improperly in the funds.” “They do me wrong then,”
+said Talleyrand. “But how did you acquire so much money!” “I bought
+stock the day before you were proclaimed First Consul,” replied the
+ex-bishop, “and I sold it the day after.”
+
+Compliments are light skirmishes in the war of flattery, for the
+purpose of obtaining an occasional object. They are little false coins
+that you receive with one hand and pay away with the other. To flatter
+requires a profound knowledge of human nature and of the character of
+your subject; to compliment skillfully, it is sufficient that you are a
+pupil of Spurzheim.
+
+It is a common practice with men to abstain from grave conversation
+with women. And the habit is in general judicious. If the woman is
+young, gay and trifling, talk to her only of the latest fashions, the
+gossip of the day, etc. But this in other cases is not to be done. Most
+women who are a little old, particularly married women — and even some
+who are young — wish to obtain a reputation for intellect and an
+acquaintance With science. You therefore pay them a real compliment,
+and gratify their self-love, by conversing occasionally upon grave
+matters, which they do not understand, and do not really relish. You
+may interrupt a discussion on the beauty of a dahlia, by observing that
+as you know that they take an interest in such things you mention the
+discovery of a new method of analyzing curves of double curvature. Men
+who talk only of trifles will rarely be popular with women past
+twenty-five.
+
+Talk to a mother about her children. Women are never tired of hearing
+of themselves and their children.
+
+If you go to a house where there are children you should take especial
+care to conciliate their good will by a little manly _tete-a-tete_,
+otherwise you may get a ball against your skins, or be tumbled from a
+three-legged chair.
+
+To be able to converse with women you must study their vocabulary. You
+would make a great mistake in interpreting _never, forever_, as they
+are explained in Johnson.
+
+Do not be for ever telling a woman that she is handsome, witty, etc.
+She knows that a vast deal better than you do.
+
+Do not allow your love for one woman to prevent your paying attention
+to others. The object of your love is the only one who ought to
+perceive it.
+
+A little pride, which reminds you what is due to yourself, and a little
+good nature, which suggests what is due to others, are the
+pre-requisites for the moral constitution of a gentleman.
+
+Too much vivacity and too much inertness are both fatal to politeness.
+By the former we are hurried too far, by the latter we are kept too
+much back.
+
+_Nil admirari_, the precept of stoicism, is the precept for conduct
+among gentlemen. All excitement must be studiously avoided. When you
+are with ladies the case is different. Among them, wonder,
+astonishment, ecstacy, and enthusiasm, are necessary in order to be
+believed.
+
+Never dispute in the presence of other persons. If a man states an
+opinion which you cannot adopt, say nothing. If he states a fact which
+is of little importance, you may carelessly assent. When you differ let
+it be indirectly; rather a want of assent than actual dissent.
+
+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.
+
+It is a point of courtly etiquette which is observed rigorously by
+every one who draws nigh, that a question must never be put to a king.
+
+Never ask a question about the price of a thing. This horrible error is
+often committed by a _nouveau riche._
+
+If you have accepted an invitation to a party never fail to keep your
+promise. It is cruel to the lady of the house to accept, and then send
+an apology at the last moment. Especially do not break your word on
+account of bad weather. You may be certain that many others will, and
+the inciter will be mortified by the paucity of her guests. A cloak and
+a carriage will secure you from all inconvenience, and you will be
+conferring a real benefit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+THE ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.
+
+
+Women, particularly women a little on the decline, are those who make
+the reputation of a young man. When the lustre of their distinction
+begins to fade, a slight feeling of less wonted leisure, perhaps a
+little spite, makes them observe attentively those who surround them.
+Eager to gain new admirers, they encourage the first steps of a
+_debutant_ in the career of society, and exert themselves to fit him to
+do honour to their patronage.
+
+A young man, therefore, in entering the world, cannot be too attentive
+to conciliate the goodwill of women. Their approbation and support will
+serve him instead of a thousand good qualities. Their judgment
+dispenses with fortune, talent, and even intelligence. “Les hommes font
+les lois: les femmes font les reputations.”
+
+The desire of pleasing is, of course, the basis of social connexion.
+Persons who enter society with the intention of producing an effect,
+and of being distinguished, however clever they may be, are never
+agreeable. They are always tiresome, and often ridiculous. Persons, who
+enter life with such pretensions, have no opportunity for improving
+themselves and profiting by experience. They are not in a proper state
+to _observe_: indeed, they look only for the effect which they produce,
+and with that they are not often gratified. They thrust themselves into
+all conversations, indulge in continual anecdotes, which are varied
+only by dull disquisitions, listen to others with impatience and
+heedlessness, and are angry that they seem to be attending to
+themselves. Such men go through scenes of pleasure, enjoying nothing.
+They are equally disagreeable to themselves and others. Young men
+should, therefore, content themselves with being natural. Let them
+present themselves with a modest assurance: let them observe, hear, and
+examine, and before long they will rival their models.
+
+The conversation of those women who are not the most lavishly supplied
+with personal beauty, will be of the most advantage to the young
+aspirant. Such persons have cultivated their manners and conversation
+more than those who can rely upon their natural endowments. The absence
+of pride and pretension has improved their good nature and their
+affability. They are not too much occupied in contemplating their own
+charms, to be disposed to indulge in gentle criticism on others. One
+acquires from them an elegance in one’s manners as well as one’s
+expressions. Their kindness pardons every error, and to instruct or
+reprove, their acts are so delicate that the lesson which they give,
+always without offending, is sure to be profitable, though it may be
+often unperceived.
+
+Women observe all the delicacies of propriety in manners, and all the
+shades of impropriety, much better than men; not only because they
+attend to them earlier and longer, but because their perceptions are
+more refined than those of the other sex, who are habitually employed
+about greater things. Women divine, rather than arrive at, proper
+conclusions.
+
+The whims and caprices of women in society should of course be
+tolerated by men, who themselves require toleration for greater
+inconveniences. But this must not be carried too far. There are certain
+limits to empire which, if they themselves forget, should be pointed
+out to them with delicacy and politeness. You should be the slave of
+women, but not of all their fancies.
+
+Compliment is the language of intercourse from men to women. But be
+careful to avoid elaborate and common-place forms of gallant speech. Do
+not strive to make those long eulogies on a woman, which have the
+regularity and nice dependency of a proposition in Euclid, and might be
+fittingly concluded by Q. E. D. Do not be always undervaluing her rival
+in a woman’s presence, nor mistaking a woman’s daughter for her sister.
+These antiquated and exploded attempts denote a person who has learned
+the world more from books than men.
+
+The quality which a young man should most affect in intercourse with
+gentlemen, is a decent modesty: but he must avoid all bashfulness or
+timidity. His flights must not go too far; but, so far as they go, let
+them be marked by perfect assurance.
+
+Among persons who are much your seniors behave with the utmost
+respectful deference. As they find themselves sliding out of importance
+they may be easily conciliated by a little respect.
+
+By far the most important thing to be attended to, is ease of manner.
+Grace may be added afterwards, or be omitted altogether: it is of much
+less moment than is commonly believed. Perfect propriety and entire
+ease are sufficient qualifications for standing in society, and
+abundant prerequisites for distinction.
+
+There is the most delicate shade of difference between civility and
+intrusiveness, familiarity and common-place, pleasantry and sharpness,
+the natural and the rude, gaiety and carelessness; hence the
+inconveniences of society, and the errors of its members. To define
+well in conduct these distinctions, is the great art of a man of the
+world. It is easy to know what to do; the difficulty is to know what to
+avoid.
+
+Long usage—a sort of moral magnetism, a tact acquired by frequent and
+long associating with others—alone give those qualities which keep one
+always from error, and entitle him to the name of a thorough gentleman.
+
+A young man upon first entering into society should select those
+persons who are most celebrated for the propriety and elegance of their
+manners. He should frequent their company and imitate their conduct.
+There is a disposition inherent, in all, which has been noticed by
+Horace and by Dr. Johnson, to imitate faults, because they are more
+readily observed and more easily followed. There are, also, many
+foibles of manner and many refinements of affectation, which sit
+agreeably upon one man, which if adopted by another would become
+unpleasant. There are even some excellences of deportment which would
+not suit another whose character is different. For successful imitation
+in anything, good sense is indispensable. It is requisite correctly to
+appreciate the natural differences between your model and yourself, and
+to introduce such modifications in the copy as may be consistent with
+it.
+
+Let not any man imagine, that he shall easily acquire these qualities
+which will constitute him a gentleman. It is necessary not only to
+exert the highest degree of art, but to attain also that higher
+accomplishment of concealing art. The serene and elevated dignity which
+mark that character, are the result of untiring and arduous effort.
+After the sculpture has attained the shape of propriety, it remains to
+smooth off all the marks of the chisel. “A gentleman,” says a
+celebrated French author, “is one who has reflected deeply upon all the
+obligations which belong to his station, and who has applied himself
+ardently to fulfil them with grace.”
+
+Polite without importunity, gallant without being offensive, attentive
+to the comfort of all; employing a well-regulated kindness, witty at
+the proper times, discreet, indulgent, generous, he exercises, in his
+sphere, a high degree of moral authority; he it is, and he alone, that
+one should imitate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+LETTERS.
+
+
+Always remember that the terms of compliment at the close of a
+letter—“I have the honour to be your very obedient servant,” etc. are
+merely forms—“signifying nothing.” Do not therefore avoid them on
+account of pride, or a dislike to the person addressed. Do not presume,
+as some do, to found expectations of favour or promotion from great men
+who profess themselves your obliged servant.
+
+In writing a letter of business it is extremely vulgar to use satin or
+glazed gold-edged paper. Always employ, on such occasions, plain
+American paper. Place the date at the top of the page, and if you
+please, the name of the person at the top also, just above the ‘Sir;’
+though this last is indifferent.
+
+In letters to gentlemen always place the date at the end of the letter,
+below his name. Use the best paper, but not figured, and never fail to
+enclose it in an envelope. Attention to these matters is indispensable.
+
+To a person whom you do not know well, say Sir, not ‘Dear Sir.’ It
+formerly was usual in writing to a distinguished man to employ the form
+‘Respected Sir,’ or something of the kind. This is now out of fashion.
+
+There are a great many forms observed by the French in their letters,
+which are necessary to be known before addressing one of that nation.
+You will find them in their books upon such subjects, or learn them
+from your French master. One custom of theirs is worthy of adoption
+among us: to proportion the distance between the ‘Sir’ and the first
+line of the letter, to the rank of the person to whom you write. Among
+the French to neglect attending to this would give mortal offence. It
+obtains also in other European nations. When the Duke of Buckingham was
+at the court of Spain, some letters passed between the Spanish minister
+Olivez and himself,—the two proudest men on earth. The Spaniard wrote a
+letter to the Englishman, and put the ‘Monsieur’ on a line with the
+beginning of his letter. The other, in his reply, placed the ‘Monsieur’
+a little below it.
+
+A note of invitation or reply is always to be enclosed in an envelope.
+
+Wafers are now entirely exploded. A letter of business is sealed with
+red wax, and marked with some common stamp. Letters to gentlemen demand
+red wax sealed with your arms. In notes to ladies employ coloured wax,
+but not perfumed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+VISITS.
+
+
+Of visits there are various sorts; visits of congratulation, visits of
+condolence, visits of ceremony, visits of friendship. To each belong
+different customs.
+
+A visit and an insult must be always returned.
+
+Visits of ceremony should be very short. Go at some time when business
+demands the employment of every moment. In visits of friendship adopt a
+different course.
+
+If you call to see an acquaintance at lodgings, and cannot find any one
+to announce you, you knock very lightly at the door, and wait some time
+before entering. If you are in too great a hurry, you might find the
+person drawing off a night-cap.
+
+Respectable visitors should be received and treated with the utmost
+courtesy. But if a tiresome fellow, after wearying all his friends,
+becomes weary of himself, and arrives to bestow his tediousness upon
+you, pull out your watch with restlessness, talk about your great
+occupations and the value of time. Politeness is one thing; to be made
+a convenience of is another.
+
+The style of your conversation should always be in keeping with the
+character of the visit. You must not talk about literature in a visit
+of condolence, nor about political economy in a visit of ceremony.
+
+When a lady visits you, upon her retiring, you offer her your arm, and
+conduct her to her carriage. If you are visiting at the same time with
+another lady, you should take leave at the same time, and hand her into
+her carriage.
+
+After a hall, a dinner, or a concert, you visit during the week.
+
+Pay the first visit to a friend just returned from a voyage.
+
+Annual visits are paid to persons with whom you have a cool
+acquaintance, They visit you in the autumn, you return a card in the
+spring.
+
+In paying a visit under ordinary circumstances, you leave a single
+card. If there be residing in the family, a married daughter, an
+unmarried sister, a transient guest, or any person in a distinct
+situation from the mistress of the house, you leave two cards, one for
+each party. If you are acquainted with only one member of a family, as
+the husband, or the wife, and you wish to indicate that your visit is
+to both, you leave two cards. Ladies have a fashion of pinching down
+one corner of a card to denote that the visit is to only one of two
+parties in a house, and two corners, or one side of the card, when the
+visit is to both; but this is a transient mode, and of dubious
+respectability.
+
+If, in paying a morning visit, you are not recognized when you enter,
+mention your name immediately. If you call to visit one member, and you
+find others only in the parlour, introduce yourself to them. Much
+awkwardness may occur through defect of attention to this point.
+
+When a gentleman is about to be married, he sends cards, a day or two
+before the event, to all whom he is in the habit of visiting. These
+visits are never paid in person, but the cards sent by a servant, at
+any hour in the morning; or the gentleman goes in a carriage, and sends
+them in. After marriage, some day is appointed and made known to all,
+as the day on which he receives company. His friends then all call upon
+him. Would that this also were performed by cards!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+APPOINTMENTS AND PUNCTUALITY.
+
+
+When you make an appointment, always be exact in observing it. In some
+places, and on some occasions, a quarter of an hour’s _grace_ is given.
+This depends on custom, and it is always better not to avail yourself
+of it. In Philadelphia it is necessary to be punctual to a second, for
+there everybody breathes by the State-house clock If you make an
+appointment to meet anywhere, your body must be in a right line with
+the frame of the door at the instant the first stroke of the great
+clock sounds. If you are a moment later, your character is gone. It is
+useless to plead the evidence of your watch, or detention by a friend.
+You read your condemnation in the action of the old fellows who, with
+polite regard to your feelings, simultaneously pull out their vast
+chronometers, as you enter. The tardy man is worse off than the
+murderer. _He_ may be pardoned by one person, (the Governor); the
+unpunctual is pardoned by none. _Haud inexpectus loquor._
+
+If you make an appointment with another at your own house, you should
+be invisible to the rest of the world, and consecrate your time solely
+to him.
+
+If you make an appointment with a lady, especially if it be upon a
+promenade, or other public place, you must be there a little before the
+time.
+
+If you accept an appointment at the house of a public officer, or a man
+of business, be very punctual, transact the affair with despatch, and
+retire the moment it is finished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+DINNER.
+
+
+The hour of dinner has been said, by Dr. Johnson, to be the most
+important hour in civilized life. The etiquette of the dinner-table has
+a prominence commensurate with the dignity of the ceremony. Like the
+historian of Peter Bell, we commence at the commencement, and thence
+proceed to the moment when you take leave officially, or vanish unseen.
+
+In order to dine, the first requisite is—to be invited. The length of
+time which the invitation precedes the dinner is always proportioned to
+the grandeur of the occasion, and varies from two days to two weeks. To
+an invitation received less than two days in advance, you will lose
+little by replying in the negative, for as it was probably sent as soon
+as the preparations of the host commenced, you may be sure that there
+will be little on the table fit to eat. Those abominations, y’clept
+“plain family dinners,” eschew like the plague.
+
+You reply to a note of invitation immediately, and in the most direct
+and unequivocal terms. If you accept, you arrive at the house
+rigorously at the hour specified. It is equally inconvenient to be too
+late and to be too early. If you fall into the latter error, you find
+every thing in disorder; the master of the house is in his
+dressing-room, changing his waistcoat; the lady is still in the pantry;
+the fire not yet lighted in the parlour. If by accident or
+thoughtlessness you arrive too soon, you may pretend that you called to
+inquire the exact hour at which they dine, having mislaid the note, and
+then retire to walk for an appetite. If you are too late, the evil is
+still greater, and indeed almost without a remedy. Your delay spoils
+the dinner and destroys the appetite and temper of the guests; and you
+yourself are so much embarrassed at the inconvenience you have
+occasioned, that you commit a thousand errors at table. If you do not
+reach the house until dinner is served, you had better retire to a
+restaurateurs, and thence send an apology, and not interrupt the
+harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptances.
+
+When the guests have all entered, and been presented to one another, if
+any delay occurs, the conversation should be of the lightest and least
+exciting kind; mere common-places about the weather and late arrivals.
+You should not amuse the company by animated relations of one person
+who has just cut his throat from ear to ear, or of another who, the
+evening before, was choked by a tough beef-steak and was buried that
+morning.
+
+When dinner is announced, the inviter rises and requests all to walk to
+the dining-room. He then leads the way, that they may not be at a loss
+to know whither they should proceed. Each gentleman offers his arm to a
+lady, and they follow in solemn order.
+
+The great distinction now becomes evident between the host and the
+guests, which distinction it is the chief effort of good breeding to
+remove. To perform faultlessly the honours of the table, is one of the
+most difficult things in society: it might indeed be asserted without
+much fear of contradiction, that no man has as yet ever reached exact
+propriety in his office as host, has hit the mean between exerting
+himself too much and too little. His great business is to put every one
+entirely at his ease, to gratify all his desires, and make him, in a
+word, absolutely contented with men and things. To accomplish this, he
+must have the genius of tact to perceive, and the genius of finesse to
+execute; ease and frankness of manner; a knowledge of the world that
+nothing can surprise; a calmness of temper that nothing can disturb,
+and a kindness of disposition that can never be exhausted. When he
+receives others, he must be content to forget himself; he must
+relinquish all desire to shine, and even all attempts to please his
+guests by conversation, and rather, do all in his power to let them
+please one another. He behaves to them without agitation, without
+affectation; he pays attention without an air of protection; he
+encourages the timid, draws out the silent, and directs conversation
+without Sustaining it himself. He who does not do all this, is wanting
+in his duty as host; he who does, is more than mortal.
+
+When all are seated, the gentleman at the head of the table sends soup
+to every one, from the pile of plates which stand at his right hand. He
+helps the person at his right hand first, and at his left next, and so
+through the whole.
+
+There are an immensity of petty usages at the dinner table, such as
+those mentioned in the story of the Abbé Delille and the Abbé Cosson in
+the Introduction to this volume, which it would be trifling and tedious
+to enumerate hers, and which will be learned by an observing man after
+assisting at two or three dinners.
+
+You should never ask a gentleman or lady at the table to help you to
+any thing, but always apply to the servants.
+
+Your first duty at the table is to attend to the wants of the lady who
+sits next to you, the second, to attend to your own. In performing the
+first, you should take care that the lady has all that she wishes, yet
+without appearing to direct your attention too much to her plate, for
+nothing is more ill-bred than to watch a person eating. If the lady be
+something of a _gourmande_, and in ever-zealous pursuit of the aroma of
+the wing of a pigeon, should raise an unmanageable portion to her
+mouth, you should cease all conversation with her, and look steadfastly
+into the opposite part of the room.
+
+In France, a dish, after having been placed upon the table for
+approval, is removed by the servants, and carved at a sideboard, and
+after. wards handed to each in succession. This is extremely
+convenient, and worthy of acceptation in this country. But
+unfortunately it does not as yet prevail here. Carving therefore
+becomes an indispensable branch of a gentleman’s education. You should
+no more think of going to a dinner without a knowledge of this art,
+than you should think of going without your shoes. The gentleman of the
+house selects the various dishes in the order in which they should be
+cut, and invites some particular one to perform the office. It is
+excessively awkward to be obliged to decline, yet it is a thing too
+often occurring in,his country. When you carve, you should never rise
+from your seat.
+
+Some persons, in helping their guests, or recommending dishes to their
+taste, preface every such action with an eulogy on its merits, and draw
+every bottle of wine with an account of its virtues. Others, running
+into the contrary extreme, regret or fear that each dish is not exactly
+as it should be; that the cook, etc., etc. Both of these habits are
+grievous errors. You should leave it to your guests alone to approve,
+or suffer one of your intimate friends who is present, to vaunt your
+wine. When you draw a bottle, merely state its age and brand, and of
+what particular vintage it is.
+
+Do not insist upon your guests partaking of particular dishes, never
+ask persons more than once, and never put anything by force upon their
+plates. It is extremely ill-bred, though extremely common, to press
+one to eat of anything. You should do all that you can to make your
+guests feel themselves at home, which they never can do while you are
+so constantly forcing upon their minds the recollection of the
+difference between yourself and them. You should never send away your
+own plate until all your guests have finished.
+
+Before the cloth is removed you do not drink wine unless with another.
+If you are asked to take wine it is uncivil to refuse. When you drink
+with another, you catch the person’s eye and bow with politeness. It is
+not necessary to say anything, but smile with an air of great kindness.
+
+Some one who sits near the lady of the house, should, immediately upon
+the removal of the soup, request the honor of drinking wine with her,
+which movement is the signal for all the others. If this is not done,
+the master of the house should select some lady. _He_ never asks
+gentlemen, but they ask him; this is a refined custom, attended to in
+the best company.
+
+If you have drunk with every one at the table, and wish more wine, you
+must wait till the cloth is removed. The decanter is then sent round
+from the head of the table, each person fills his glass, and all the
+company drinks the Health of all the company. It is enough if you bow
+to the master and mistress of the house, and to your opposite
+neighbour. After this the ladies retire. Some one rises to open the
+door for them, and they go into the parlour, the gentlemen remaining to
+drink more wine.
+
+After the ladies have retired, the service of the decanters is done.
+The host draws the bottles which have been standing in a wine cooler
+since the commencement of the dinner. The bottle goes down the left
+side and up the right, and the same bottle never passes twice. If you
+do not drink, always pass the bottle to your neighbour.
+
+At dinner never call for ale or porter; it is coarse, and injures the
+taste for wine.
+
+It was formerly the custom to drink _porter_ with cheese. One of the
+few real improvements introduced by the “Napoleon of the realms of
+fashion” was to banish this tavern liquor and substitute _port._ The
+dictum of Brummell was thus enunciated: “A gentleman never _malts_, he
+_ports._”
+
+A gentleman should always express his preference for some one sort of
+wine over others; because, as there is always a natural preference for
+one kind, if you say that you are indifferent, you show that you are
+not accustomed to drink wines. Your preference should not of course be
+guided by your real disposition; if you are afflicted by nature with a
+partiality for port, you should never think of indulging it except in
+your closet with your chamber-door locked. The only index of choice is
+fashion;—either permanent fashion (if the phrase may be used), or some
+temporary fashion created by the custom of any individual who happens
+to rule for a season in society. Port was drunk by our ancestors, but
+George the Fourth, upon his accession to the regency, announced his
+royal preference for sherry. It has since been fashionable to like
+sherry. This is what we call a _permanent_ fashion.
+
+Champagne wine is drunk after the removal of the first cloth; that is
+to say, between the meats and the dessert. One servant goes round and
+places before each guest a proper-shaped glass; another follows and
+fills them, and they are immediately drunk. Sometimes this is done
+twice in succession. The bottle does not again make its appearance, and
+it would excite a stare to ask at a later period for a glass of
+champagne wine.
+
+If you should happen to be blessed with those rely nuisances, children,
+and should be entertaining company, never allow them to be brought in
+after dinner, unless they are particularly asked for, and even then it
+is better to say they are at school. Some persons, with the intention
+of paying their court to the father, express great desire to see the
+sons; but they should have some mercy upon the rest of the party,
+particularly as they know that they themselves would be the most
+disturbed of all, if their urgent entreaty was granted.
+
+Never at any time, whether at a formal or a familiar dinner party,
+commit the impropriety of talking to a servant: nor ever address any
+remark about one of them to one of the party. Nothing can be more
+ill-bred. You merely ask for what you want in a grave and civil tone,
+and wait with patience till your order is obeyed.
+
+It is a piece of refined coarseness to employ the fingers instead of
+the fork to effect certain operations at the dinner table, and on some
+other similar occasions. To know how and when to follow the fashion of
+Eden, and when that of more civilized life, is one of the many points
+which distinguish a gentleman from one not a gentleman; or rather, in
+this case, which shows the difference between a man of the world, and
+one who has not “the tune of the time.”* Cardinal Richelieu detected an
+adventurer who passed himself off for a nobleman, by his helping
+himself to olives with a fork. He might have applied the test to a vast
+many other things. Yet, on the other hand, a gentleman would lose his
+reputation, if he were to take up a piece of sugar with his fingers and
+not with the sugar-tongs.
+
+* Shakspeare
+
+
+It is of course needless to say that your own knife should never be
+brought near to the butter, or salt, or to a dish of any kind. If,
+however, a gentleman should send his plate for anything near you, and a
+knife cannot be obtained immediately, you may skillfully avoid all
+censure by using _his_ knife to procure it.
+
+When you send your plate for anything, you leave your knife and fork
+upon it, crossed. When you have done, you lay both in parallel lines on
+one side. A render who occupies himself about greater matters, may
+smile at this precept. It may, indeed, be very absurd, yet such is the
+tyranny of custom, that if you were to cross your knife and fork when
+you have finished, the most reasonable and strong-minded man at the
+table could not help setting you down, in his own mind, as a low-bred
+person. _Magis sequor quam probo._
+
+The chief matter of consideration at the dinner table, as indeed
+everywhere else in the life of a gentleman, is to be perfectly composed
+and at his ease. He speaks deliberately, he performs the most important
+act of the day as if he were performing the most ordinary. Yet there is
+no appearance of trifling or want of gravity in his manner; he
+maintains the dignity which is becoming on so vital an occasion. He
+performs all the ceremonies, yet in the style of one who performs no
+_ceremony_ at all. He goes through all the complicated duties of the
+scene, as if he were “to the manner born.”
+
+Some persons, who cannot draw the nice distinction between too much and
+too little, desiring to be particularly respectable, make a point of
+appearing unconcerned and quite indifferent to enjoyment at dinner.
+Such conduct not only exhibits a want of sense and a profane levity,
+but is in the highest degree rude to your obliging host. He has taken a
+great deal of trouble to give you pleasure, and it is your business to
+be, or at least to appear, pleased. It is one thing, indeed, to stare
+and wonder, and to ask for all the delicacies on the table in the style
+of a person who had lived all his life behind a counter, but it is
+quite another to throw into your manner the spirit and gratified air of
+a man who is indeed not unused to such matters, but who yet esteems
+them at their fall value.
+
+When the Duke of Wellington was at Paris, as commander of the allied
+armies, he was invited to dine with Cambaceres, one of the most
+distinguished statesmen and _gourmands_ of the time of Napoleon. In the
+course of the dinner, his host having helped him to some particularly
+_recherché_ dish, expressed a hope that he found it agreeable. “Very
+good,” said the hero of Waterloo, who was probably speculating upon
+what he would have done if Blucher had not come up: “Very good; but I
+really do not care what I eat.” “Good God!” exclaimed Cambaceres,—as he
+started back and dropped his fork, quite “frighted from his
+propriety,”—“Don’t care what you eat! What _did_ you come here for,
+then?”
+
+After the wine is finished, you retire to the drawing-room, where the
+ladies are assembled; the master of the house rising first from the
+table, but going out of the room last. If you wish to go before this,
+you must vanish unseen.
+
+We conclude this chapter by a word of important counsel to the
+host:—Never make an apology.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+TRAVELLING.
+
+
+It is an extremely difficult affair to travel in a coach, with perfect
+propriety. Ten to one the person next to you is an English nobleman
+_incognito_; and a hundred to one, the man opposite to you is a brute
+or a knave. To behave so that you may not be uncivil to the one, nor a
+dupe to the other, is an art of some niceness.
+
+As the seats are assigned to passengers in the order in which they are
+booked, you should send to have your place taken a day or two before
+the journey, so that you may be certain of a back seat. It is also
+advisable to arrive at the place of departure early, so that you assume
+your place without dispute.
+
+When women appear at the door of the coach to obtain admittance, it is
+a matter of some question to know exactly what conduct it is necessary
+to pursue. If the women are servants, or persons in a low rank of life,
+I do not see upon what ground of politeness or decency you are called
+upon to yield your seat. _Etiquette_, and the deference due to ladies
+have, of course, no operation in the case of such persons.
+Chivalry—(and the gentleman is the legitimate descendant of the knight
+of old)—was ever a devotion to rank rather than to sex. Don Quixotte,
+or Sir Piercy Shafestone would not willingly have given place to
+servant girls. And upon considerations of humanity and regard to
+weakness, the case is no stronger. Such people have nerves considerably
+more robust than you have, and are quite as capable of riding
+backwards, or the top, as yourself. The only reason for _politeness_ in
+the case is, that perhaps the other passengers are of the same standing
+with the women, and might eject you from the window if you refuse to
+give place.
+
+If _ladies_ enter—and a gentleman distinguishes them in an instant—the
+case is altered. The sooner you move the better is it for yourself,
+since the rest will in the end have to concede, and you will give
+yourself a reputation among the party and secure a better seat, by
+rising at once.
+
+The principle that guides you in society is politeness; that which
+guides you in a coach is good humour. You lay aside all attention to
+form, and all strife after effect, and take instead, kindness of
+disposition and a willingness to please. You pay a constant regard to
+the comfort of your. fellow-prisoners. You take care not to lean upon
+the shoulder of your neighbour when you sleep. You are attentive not to
+make the stage wait for you at the stopping-places. When the ladies get
+out, you offer them your arm, and you do the same when the coachman is
+driving rapidly over a rough place. You should make all the
+accommodations to others, which you can do consistently with your own
+convenience; for, after all, the individuals are each like little
+nations; and as, in the one case, the first duty is to your country, so
+in the other, the first duty is to yourself.
+
+Some surly creatures, upon entering a coach, wrap about their persons a
+great coat of cloth, and about their minds a mantle of silence, which
+are not thrown off during the whole journey. This is doing more harm to
+themselves than to others. You should make a point of conversing with
+an appearance of entire freedom, though with real reserve, with all
+those who are so disposed.
+
+One purpose and pleasure of travelling is to gain information, and to
+observe the various characters of persons. You will be asked by others
+about the road you passed over, and it will be awkward if you can give
+no account of it. Converse, therefore, with all. Relate amusing
+stories, chiefly of other countries, and even of other times, so as not
+to offend any one. If engaged in discussion—and a coach is almost the
+only place where discussion should _not_ be avoided—state facts and
+arguments rather than opinions. Never answer impudent questions-and
+never ask them.
+
+At the meals which occur during a journey, you see beautiful
+exemplification of the _dictum_ of Hobbes, “that war is the natural
+state of man.” The entire scene is one of unintermitted war of every
+person with every other person, with the viands, and with good manners.
+You open your mouth only to admit edibles and to bellow to the waiters.
+Your sole object is yourself. You drink wine without asking your
+neighbour to join you; and if he should be so silly as to ask you to
+hand him some specified dish, you blandly comply; but in the passage to
+him, you transfer the whole of its contents to your own plate. There is
+no halving in these matters. Rapacity, roaring, and rapidity are the
+three requisites for dining during a journey. When you have resumed
+your seat in the coach, you are as bland as a morning in spring.
+
+Never assume any unreal importance in a stage-coach, founded on the
+ignorance of your fellows, and their inability to detect it. It is
+excessively absurd, and can only gratify a momentary and foolish
+vanity; for, whenever you might make use of your importance, you would
+probably be at once discovered. There is an admirable paper upon this
+point in one of Johnson’s Adventurers.
+
+The friendship which has subsisted between travellers terminates with
+the journey. When you get out, a word, a bow, and the most unpleasant
+act of life is finished and forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+BALLS.
+
+
+Invitations to a ball should be issued at least ten days in advance, in
+order to give an opportunity to the men to clear away engagements; and
+to women, time to prepare the artillery of their toilet. Cards of
+invitation should be sent—not notes.
+
+Upon the entrance of ladies, or persons entitled to deference, the
+master of the house precedes them across the room: he addresses
+compliments to them, and will lose his life to procure them seats.
+
+While dancing with a lady whom you have never seen before, you should
+not talk to her much.
+
+The master of the ceremonies must take care that every lady dances, and
+press into service for that purpose these young gentlemen who are
+hanging round the room like fossils. If desired by him to dance with a
+particular lady you should refuse on no account.
+
+If you have no ear, that is, a false one, never dance.
+
+To usurp the seat of a person who is dancing is the height of
+incivility.
+
+Never go to a public ball.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+FUNERALS.
+
+
+When any member of a family is dead, it is customary to send
+intelligence of the misfortune to all who have been connected with the
+deceased in relations of business or friendship. The letters which are
+sent contain a special invitation to assist at the funeral.
+
+An invitation of this sort should never be refused, though, of course,
+you do not send a reply, for no other reason that I know of, excepting
+the impossibility of framing any formula of acceptance.
+
+You render yourself at the house an hour or two after the time
+specified. If you were to sit long in the mournful circle you might be
+rendered unfit for doing any thing for a week.
+
+Your dress is black, and during the time of waiting you compose your
+visage into a “tristful ’haviour,” and lean in silent solemnity upon
+the top of your cane, thinking about— last night’s party. This is a
+necessary hypocrisy, and assists marvellously the sadness of the
+ceremony. You walk in a procession with the others, your carriage
+following in the street. The first places are yielded to the relations
+of the deceased.
+
+The coffins of persons of distinction are carried in the hands of
+bearers, who walk with their hats off.
+
+You walk with another, in seemly order, and converse in a low tone;
+first upon the property of the defunct, and next upon the politics of
+the day. You walk with the others into the church, where service is
+said over the body. It is optional to go to the grave or not. When you
+go away, you enter your carriage and return to your business or your
+pleasures.
+
+A funeral in the morning, a ball in the evening,—“so runs the world
+away.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+SERVANTS.
+
+
+Servants are a necessary evil. He who shall contrive to obviate their
+necessity, or remove their inconveniences, will render to human comfort
+a greater benefit than has yet been conferred by all the
+useful-knowledge societies of the age. They are domestic spies, who
+continually embarrass the intercourse of the members of a family, or
+possess themselves of private information that renders their presence
+hateful, and their absence dangerous. It is a rare thing to see persons
+who are not controlled by their servants. Theirs, too, is not the only
+kitchen cabinet which begins by serving and ends by ruling.
+
+If we judge from the frequency and inconvenience of an opposite course,
+we should say that the most important precept to be observed is, never
+to be afraid of your servants. We have known many ladies who, without
+any reason in the world, lived in a state of perfect subjugation to
+their servants, who were afraid to give a direction, and who submitted
+to disobedience and insult, where no danger could be apprehended from
+discharging them.
+
+If a servant offends you by any trifling or occasional omission of
+duty, reprove the fault with mild severity; if the error be repeated
+often, and be of a gross description, never hesitate, but discharge the
+servant instantly, without any altercation of language. You cannot
+easily find another who will serve you worse.
+
+As for those precautions which are ordinarily taken, to secure the
+procurence of good servants, they are, without exception, utterly
+useless. The author of the Rambler has remarked, that a written
+_character_ of a servant is worth about as much as a discharge from the
+Old Bailey. I never, but once, took any trouble to inquire what
+reputation a servant had held in former situations. On that occasion, I
+heard that I had engaged the very Shakespeare of menials,— Aristides
+was not more honest,—Zeno more truth-telling,—nor Abdiel more faithful.
+This fellow, after insulting me daily for a week, disappeared with my
+watch and three pair of boots.
+
+Those offices which profess to recommend good domestics, are
+“bosh,—nothing.” In nine cases out of ten, the keepers are in league
+with the servants; and in the tenth, ignorance, dishonesty, or
+carelessness will prevent any benefit resulting from,their
+“intelligence.” All that you can do is, to take the most decent
+creature who applies; trust in Providence, and lock every thing up.
+
+Never speak harshly, or superciliously, or hastily to a servant. There
+are many little actions which distinguish, to the eye of the most
+careless observer, a gentleman from one not a gentleman; but there is
+none more striking than the manner of addressing a servant. Issue your
+commands with gravity and gentleness, and in a reserved manner. Let
+your voice be composed, but avoid a tone of familiarity or sympathy
+with them. It is better in addressing them to use a higher key of
+voice, and not to suffer it to fall at the end of a sentence. The best
+bred man whom we ever had the pleasure of meeting, always employed, in
+addressing servants, such forms of speech as these—“I’ll thank you for
+so and so,”—“Such a thing, if you please,”—with a gentle tone, but
+very elevated key. The perfection of manner, in this particular, is, to
+indicate by your language, that the performance is a favour, and by
+your tone that it is a matter of course.
+
+While, however, you practise the utmost mildness and forbearance in
+your language, avoid the dangerous and common error of exercising too
+great humanity in action. No servant, from the time of the first
+Gibeonite downwards, has ever had too much labour imposed upon him;
+while thousands have been ruined by the mistaken kindness of their
+masters.
+
+Servants should always be allowed, and indeed directed, to go to church
+on Sunday afternoon. For this purpose, dinner is served earlier on that
+day than usual. If it can be accomplished, the servants should be
+induced to attend the same church as the family with whom they live;
+because there may be reason to fear that if they profess to go
+elsewhere, they may not go to church at all; and the habit of wandering
+about the streets with idlers, will speedily ruin the best servant that
+ever stood behind a chair.
+
+Servants should be directed to announce visitors. This is always done
+abroad, and is a convenient custom.
+
+Never allow a female servant to enter a parlour. If all the male
+domestics are gone out, it is better that there should be no attendance
+at all.
+
+Some ladies are in the habit of amusing their friends with accounts of
+the difficulty of getting good servants, etc. This denotes decided ill
+breeding. Such subjects should never be made topics of conversation.
+
+If a servant offends you by any grossness of conduct, never rebuke the
+offence upon the spot, nor indeed notice it at all at the time; for you
+cannot do it without anger, and without giving rise to a _scene._
+Prince Puckler Muskaw was, very properly, turned out of the Travellers’
+Club for throwing a fork at one of the waiters.
+
+In the house of another, or when there is any company present in your
+own, never converse with the servants. This most vulgar, but not
+uncommon, habit, is judiciously censured in that best of novels,—the
+Zeluco of Dr. Moore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+FASHION.
+
+
+Fashion is a tyranny founded only on assumption. The principle upon
+which its influence rests, is one deeply based in the human heart, and
+one which has long been observed and long practised upon in every
+department of life. In the literary, the religious, and the political
+world, it has been an assured and very profitable conclusion, that the
+public,
+
+“Like women, born to be controlled,
+Stoops to the forward and the bold.”
+
+
+“Qui sibi fidit, dux regit examen,” is a maxim of universal truth.
+Pococurante, in Candide, was admired for despising Homer and Michel
+Angelo; he would have gained little distinction by praising them. The
+judicious application of this rule to society, is the origin of
+fashion. In despair of attaining greatness of quality, it founds its
+distinction only on peculiarity.
+
+We have spoken elsewhere of those complex and very rare
+accomplishments, whose union is requisite to constitute a gentleman. We
+know of but one quality which is demanded for a man of
+fashion,—impudence. An impudence (self-confidence “the wise it call”)
+as impenetrable as the gates of Pandemonium—a coolness and
+imperturbability of self-admiration, which the boaster in Spencer
+might envy—a contempt of every decency, as such, and an utter
+imperviousness to ridicule,—these are the amiable and dignified
+qualities which serve to rear an empire over the weakness and cowardice
+of men.
+
+To define the character of that which is changing even while we survey
+it, is a task of no small difficulty. We imagine that there is only one
+means by which it may be always described, viz., that it consists in an
+entire avoidance of all that is natural and rational. Its essence is
+affectation; effeminacy takes the place of manliness; drawling
+stupidity, of wit; stiffness and hauteur, of ease and civility; and
+self-illustration, of a decent and respectful regard to others.
+
+A man of fashion must never allow himself to be pleased. Nothing is
+more decidedly _de mauvais ton_ than any expression of delight. He must
+never laugh, nor, unless his penetration is very great, must he even
+smile; for he might by ignorance smile at the wrong place or time. All
+real emotion is to be avoided; all sympathy with the great or the
+beautiful is to be shunned; yet the liveliest feeling may be exhibited
+upon the death of a poodle-dog.
+
+At the house of an acquaintance, he must never praise, nor even look,
+at the pictures, the carpets, the curtains, or the ottomans, because if
+he did, it might be supposed that he was not accustomed to such things.
+
+About two years ago, it began to be considered improper to pay
+compliments to women, because if they are not paid gracefully they are
+awkward, and to pay them gracefully is difficult. At the present time
+it is considered dangerous to a man’s pretensions to fashion, in
+England, to speak to women at all. Women are voted bores, and are to be
+treated with refined rudeness.
+
+There is no possible system of manners that will serve to exhibit at
+once the uncivility and the high refinement which should characterize
+the man of fashion. He must therefore have no manners at all. He must
+behave with tame and passive insolence, never breaking into active
+effrontery excepting towards unprotected women and clergymen. Persons
+of no importance he does not see, and is not conscious of their
+existence; those who have the same standing, he treats with easy scorn,
+and he acknowledges the distinction of superiors only by patronizing
+and protecting them. A man of fashion does not despise wealth; he
+cannot but think _that_ valuable which procures to others the honour of
+paying for his suppers.
+
+Fashion is so completely distinguished from good breeding, that it is
+even opposed to it. It is in fact a system of refined vulgarity. What,
+for example can be more vulgar than incessantly _talking_ about forms
+and customs? About silver forks and French soup? A gentleman follows
+these conventional habits; but he follows them as matters of course. He
+looks upon them as the ordinary and essential customs of refined
+society. French forks are to him things as indispensable as a
+table-cloth; and he thinks it as unnecessary to insist upon the one as
+upon the other. If he sees a person who eats with his knife, he
+concludes that that person is ignorant of the usages of the world, but
+he does not shriek and faint away like a Bond-street dandy. If he dines
+at a table where there are no silver forks, he eats his dinner in
+perfect propriety with steel, and exhibits, neither by manner nor by
+speech, that he perceives any error. To be sure, he forms his own
+opinion about the rank of his entertainer, but he leaves it to such
+new-made gentry as Mr. Theodore Hook, in his vulgar fashionable novels,
+to harangue about such delinquencies. The vulgarity of insisting upon
+these matters is scarcely less offensive than the vulgarity of
+neglecting them. Lady Frances Pelham is but one remove better than a
+Brancton.
+
+A man of fashion never goes to the theatre; he is waiting for the
+opera.
+
+He, of course, goes out of town in the summer; or, if he cannot afford
+to do so, he merely closes his window-shutters, and appears to be gone.
+
+Fashion makes all great things little, and all little things great.
+
+It is commonly said, that it requires more wit to perform the part of
+the fool in a farce than that of the master. Without intending any
+offence to the fool by the comparison, we may remark, that qualities of
+an elevated character are required for the support of the _role_ of a
+man of fashion in the solemn farce of life. He must have invention, to
+vary his absurdities when they cease to be striking; he must have wit
+enough to obtain the reputation of a great deal more; and he must
+possess tact to know when and where to crouch, and where and when to
+insult.
+
+Brummel, whose career is one of the most extraordinary on record, must
+have exercised, during the period of his social reign, many qualities
+of conduct which rank among the highest endowments of our race. For an
+obscure individual, without fortune or rank, to have conceived the idea
+of placing himself at the head of society in a country the most
+thoroughly aristocratic in Europe, relying too upon no other weapon
+than well-directed insolence; for the same individual to have triumphed
+splendidly over the highest and the mightiest—to have maintained a
+contest with royalty itself, and to have come off victorious even in
+that struggle—for such an one no ordinary faculties must have been
+demanded. Of the sayings of Brummel which have been preserved, it is
+difficult to distinguish whether they contain real wit, or are only so
+sublimely and so absurdly impudent that they look like witty.
+
+We add here a few anecdotes of Brummel, which will serve to show,
+better than any precepts, the style of conduct which a man of fashion
+may pursue.
+
+When Brummel was at the height of his power, he was once, in the
+company of some gentlemen, speaking of the Prince of Wales as a very
+good sort of man, who behaved himself very decently, _considering
+circumstances_; some one present offered a wager that he would not dare
+to give a direction to this very good sort of man. Brummel looked
+astonished at the remark, and declined accepting a wager upon such
+point. They happened to be dining with the regent the next day, and
+after being pretty well fortified. with wine, Brummel interrupted a
+remark of the prince’s, by exclaiming very mildly and naturally,
+“Wales, ring the bell!” His royal highness immediately obeyed the
+command, and when the servant entered, said to him, with the utmost
+coolness and firmness, “Show Mr. Brummel to his carriage.” The dandy
+was not in the least dejected by his expulsion; but meeting the prince
+regent, walking with a gentleman, the next day in the street, he did
+not bow to him, but stopping the other, drew him aside and said, in a
+loud whisper, “Who is that FAT FRIEND of ours?” It must be remembered
+that the object of this sarcasm was at that time exceedingly annoyed by
+his increasing corpulency; so manifestly so, that Sheridan remarked,
+that “though the regent professed himself a Whig, he believed that in
+his heart he was no friend to _new measures._”
+
+Shortly after this occurrence at Carlton-House, Brummel remarked to one
+of his friends, that “he had half a mind to cut the young one, and
+bring old George into fashion.”
+
+In describing a short visit which he had paid to a nobleman in the
+country, he said, that he had only carried with him a night-cap and a
+silver basin to spit in, “Because, you know, it is utterly impossible
+to spit in clay.”
+
+Brummel was once present at a party to which he had not been invited.
+After he had been some time in the room, the gentleman of the house,
+willing to mortify him, went up to him and said that he believed that
+there must be some mistake, as he did not recollect having had the
+honour of sending him an invitation. “What is the name?” said the other
+very drawlingly, at the same time affecting to feel in his waistcoat
+pocket for a card. “Johnson,” replied the gentleman. “Jauhnson?” said
+Brummel, “oh! I remember now that the name was Thaunson (Thompson); and
+Jauhnson and Thaunson, Thaunson and Jauhnson, you know, are so much the
+same kind of thing.”
+
+Brummel was once asked how much a year he thought would be required to
+keep a single man in clothes. “Why, with tolerable economy,” said he,
+“I think it might be done for £800.”
+
+He once went down to a gentleman’s house in the country, without having
+been asked to do so. He was given to understand, the next morning, that
+his absence would be more agreeable, and he took his departure. Some
+one having heard of his discomfiture, asked him how he liked the
+accommodations there. He replied coolly, that “it was a very decent
+house to spend a single night in.”
+
+We have mentioned that this dreaded arbiter of modes had threatened
+that he would put the prince regent out of fashion. Alas! for the peace
+of the British monarch, this was not an idle boast. His dangerous rival
+resolved in the unfathomable recesses of a mind capacious of such
+things, to commence and to carry on a war whose terror and grandeur
+should astound society, to administer to audacious royalty a lesson
+which should never be forgotten, and finally to retire, when retire he
+must, with mementos of his tremendous power around him, and with the
+mightiest of the earth at his feet. Inventive and deliberate were the
+counsels which he meditated; sublime and resolute was the conduct he
+adopted. He decided, with an originality of genius to which the
+conqueror of Marengo might have vailed, that the _neck_ of the foe was
+the point at which the first fatal shaft of his excommunicating ire
+should be hurled. With rapid and decisive energy he concentrated all
+his powers for instantaneous action. He retired for a day to the
+seclusion of solitude, to summon and to spur the energies of the most
+self-reliant mind in Europe, as the lion draws back to gather courage
+for the leap. As, like the lion, he drew back; so, like the lion, did
+he spring forward upon his prey. At a ball given by the Duchess of
+Devonshire, when the whole assembly were conversing upon his supposed
+disgrace, and insulting by their malevolence one whom they had
+disgusted by their adulation, Brummel suddenly stood in the midst of
+them. Could it be indeed Brummel? Could it be mortal who thus appeared
+with such an encincture of radiant glory about his neck? Every eye was
+upon him, fixed in stupid admiration; every tongue, as it slowly
+recovered from its speechless paralysis, faltered forth “what a
+cravat!” What a cravat indeed! Hundreds that had, a moment before,
+exulted in unwonted freedom, bowed before it with the homage of servile
+adoration. What a cravat! There it stood; there was no doubting its
+entity, no believing it an illusion. There it stood, smooth and stiff,
+yet light and almost transparent; delicate as the music of Ariel, yet
+firm as the spirit of Regulus; bending with the grace of Apollo’s
+locks, yet erect with the majesty of the Olympian Jove: without a
+wrinkle, without an indentation. What a cravat! The regent “saw and
+shook;” and uttering a faint gurgle from beneath the wadded bag which
+surrounded his royal thorax, he was heard to whisper with dismay, “D—n
+him! what a cravat!” The triumph was complete.
+
+It is stated, upon what authority we know not, that his royal highness,
+after passing a sleepless night in vain conjectures, despatched at an
+early hour, one of his privy-counsellors to Brummel, offering _carte
+blanche_ if he would disclose the secret of that mysterious cravat. But
+the “_atrox animus Catonis_” disdained the bribe. He preferred being
+supplicated, to being bought, by kings. “Go,” said he to the messenger,
+with the spirit of Marius mantling in his veins, “Go, and tell _you_r
+master that you have seen _his_ master.”
+
+For the truth of another anecdote, connected with this cravat, we have
+indisputable evidence. A young nobleman of distinguished talents and
+high pretensions as to fortune and rank, saw this fatal band, and eager
+to advance himself in the rolls of fashion, retired to his chamber to
+endeavour to penetrate the method of its construction. He tried every
+sort of known, and many sorts of unknown stiffeners to accomplish the
+end—paper and pasteboard, and wadding, shavings, and shingles, and
+planks,—all were vainly experienced. Gargantua could not have exhibited
+a greater invention of expedients than he did; but vainly. After a
+fortnight of the closest application, ardour of study and anxiety of
+mind combined, brought him to the brink of the grave. His mother having
+ascertained the origin of his complaint, waited upon Brummel, who was
+the only living man that could remove it. She implored him, by every
+human motive, to say but one word, to save the life of her son and
+prevent her own misery. But the tyrant was immoveable, and the young
+man expired a victim of his sternness.
+
+When, at length, yielding to that strong necessity which no man can
+control, Brummel was obliged, like Napoleon, to abdicate, the mystery
+of that mighty cravat was unfolded. There was found, after his
+departure to Calais, written on sheet of paper upon his table, the
+following epigram of scorn: “STARCH IS THE MAN.” The cravat of Brummel
+was merely—starched! Henceforth starch was introduced into every cravat
+in Europe.
+
+Brummel still lives, an obscure consul in a petty European town.
+
+Physically there is something to command our admiration in the history
+of a man who thus lays at his mercy all ranks of men,—the lofty and the
+low, the great, the powerful and the vain: but morally and seriously,
+no character is more despicable than that of the mere man of fashion,
+Seeking nothing but notoriety, his path to that end is over the ruins
+of all that is worthy in our nature. He knows virtue only to despise
+it; he makes himself acquainted with human feelings only to outrage
+them. He commences his career beyond the limits of decency, and ends it
+far in the regions of infamy. Feared by all and respected by none,
+hated by his worshippers and despised by himself, he rules,—an object
+of pity and contempt: and when his power is past, his existence is
+forgotten; he lives on in an, oblivion which is to him worse than
+death, and the stings of memory goad him to the grave.
+
+The devotee of fashion is a trifler unworthy of his race; the _mere_
+gentleman is a character which may in time become somewhat tiresome;
+there is a just mean between the two, where a better conduct than
+either is to be found. It is that of a man who, yielding to others,
+still maintains his self-respect, and whose concessions to folly are
+controlled by good sense; who remembers the value of trifles without
+forgetting the importance of duties, and resolves so to regulate his
+conduct that neither others may be offended by his stiffness, nor
+himself have to regret his levity.
+
+Live therefore among men—to conclude our homily after the manner of
+Quarles—live therefore among men, like them, yet not disliking thyself;
+and let the hues of fashion be reflected from thee, but let them not
+enter and colour thee within.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+MISCELLANEOUS.
+
+
+There is nothing more ill bred in the world than continual talking
+about good breeding.
+
+You should never employ the word “_genteel_;” the proper word is
+“_respectable._”
+
+If you are walking down the street with another person on your arm, and
+stop to say something to one of your friends, do not commit the too
+common and most awkward error of introducing such persons to one
+another. Never introduce morning visitors, who happen to meet in your
+parlour without being acquainted. If _you_ should be so introduced,
+remember that the acquaintance afterwards goes for nothing: you have
+not the slightest right to expect that the other should ever speak to
+you.
+
+If you wish to be introduced to a lady, you must always have her
+consent previously asked; this formality it is not necessary to observe
+in the case of gentlemen alone.
+
+Presents are the gauge of friendship. They also serve to increase it,
+and give it permanence.
+
+Among friends presents ought to be made of things of small value; or,
+if valuable, their worth should be derived from the style of the
+workmanship, or from some accidental circumstance, rather than from the
+inherent and solid richness. Especially never offer to a lady a gift of
+great cost: it is in the highest degree indelicate, and looks as if you
+were desirous of placing her under an obligation to you, and of buying
+her good will. The gifts made by ladies to gentlemen are of the most
+refined nature possible: they should be little articles not purchased,
+but deriving a priceless value as being the offspring of their gentle
+skill; a little picture from their pencil, or a trifle from their
+needle.
+
+To persons much your superiors, or gentlemen whom you do not know
+intimately, there is but one species of appropriate present—game.
+
+If you make a present, and it is praised by the receiver, you should
+not yourself commence undervaluing it. If one is offered to you, always
+accept it; and however small it may be, receive it with civil and
+expressed thanks, without any kind of affectation. Avoid all such
+deprecatory phrases, as “I fear I rob you,” etc.
+
+To children, the only presents which you offer are sugar-plums and
+bon-bons.
+
+Avoid the habit of employing French words in English conversation; it
+is in extremely bad taste to be always employing 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 speaking of French cities and towns, it is a mark of refinement in
+education to pronounce them rigidly according to English rules of
+speech. Mr. Fox, the best French scholar, and one of the best bred men
+in England, always sounded the x in _Bourdeaux_, and the s in Calais,
+and on all occasions pronounced such names just as they are written.
+
+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.
+
+A certain degree of reserve, or the appearance of it, should be
+maintained in your intercourse with your most intimate friends. To
+ordinary acquaintances retain the utmost reserve—never allowing them to
+read your feelings, not, on the other hand, attempting to take any
+liberties with them. Familiarity of manner is the greatest vice of
+society. “Ah! allow me, my dear fellow,” says a rough voice, and at the
+same moment a thumb and finger are extended into my snuff-box, which,
+in removing their prey drop half of it upon my clothes,—I look up, and
+recognize a person to whom I was introduced by mistake last night at
+the opera. I would be glad to have less fellowship with such _fellows._
+In former times great philosophers were said to have demons for
+familiars,—thereby indicating that a familiar man is the very devil.
+
+Remember, that all deviations from prescribed forms, on common
+occasions, are vulgar; such as sending invitations, or replies, couched
+in some unusual forms of speech. Always adhere to the immemorial
+phrase,—“Mrs. X. requests the honour of Mr, Y.’s company,” and “Mr. Y.
+has the honour of accepting Mrs. X.’s polite invitation.” Never
+introduce persons with any outlandish or new-coined expressions; but
+perform the operation with mathematical precision—“Mr. A., Mr. A’; Mr.
+A’, Mr. A.”
+
+When two gentlemen are walking with a lady in the street, they should
+not be both upon the same side of her, but one of them should walk upon
+the outside and the other upon the inside.
+
+When you walk with a lady, even if the lady be young and unmarried,
+offer your arm to her. This is always done in France, and is practised
+in this country by the best bred persons. To be sure, this is done only
+to married women in France, because unmarried women never walk alone
+with gentlemen, but as in America the latter have the same freedom as
+the former, this custom should here be extended to them.
+
+If you are walking with a woman who has your arm, and you cross the
+street, it is better not to disengage your arm, and go round upon the
+outside. Such effort evinces a palpable attention to form, and _that_
+is always to be avoided.
+
+A woman should never take the arms of two men, one being upon either
+side; nor should a man carry a woman upon each arm. The latter of these
+iniquities is practised only in Ireland; the former perhaps in
+Kamskatcha. There are, to be sure, some cases in which it is necessary
+for the protection of the women, that they should both take his arm, as
+in coming home from a concert, or in passing, on any occasion, through
+a crowd.
+
+When you receive company in your own house, you should never be much
+dressed. This is a circumstance of the first importance in good
+breeding.
+
+A gentleman should never use perfumes; they are agreeable, however,
+upon ladies.
+
+Avoid the use of proverbs in conversation, and all sorts of cant
+phrases. This error is, I believe, censured by Lord Chesterfield, and
+is one of the most offensively vulgar things which a person can commit.
+We have frequently been astonished to hear such a slang phrase as “the
+whole hog” used by persons who had pretensions to very superior
+standing. We would be disposed to apply to such an expression a
+criticism of Dr. Johnson’s, which rivals it in Coarseness: “It has not
+enough salt to keep it from stinking, enough wit to prevent its being
+offensive.” We do not wish to advocate any false refinement, or to
+encourage any cockney delicacy: but we may be decent without being
+affected. The stable language and raft humour of Crockett and Downing
+may do very well to amuse one in a morning paper, but it exhibits
+little wit and less good sense to adopt them in the drawing-room. This
+matter should be “reformed altogether.”
+
+If a plate be sent to you, at dinner, by the master or mistress of the
+house, you should always take it, without offering it to all your
+neighbours as was in older times considered necessary. The spirit of
+antique manners consisted in exhibiting an attention to ceremony; the
+spirit of modern manners consists in avoiding all possible appearance
+of form. The old custom of deferring punctiliously to others was
+awkward and inconvenient. For, the person, in favor of whom the
+courtesy was shown, shocked at the idea of being exceeded in
+politeness, of course declined it, and a plate was thus often kept
+vibrating between two bowing mandarins, till its contents were cold,
+and the victims of ceremony were deprived of their dinner. In a case
+like this, to reverse the decision which the host has made as to the
+relative standing of his guests, is but a poor compliment to him, as it
+seems to reprove his choice, and may, besides, materially interfere
+with his arrangements by rendering _unhelped_ a person whom he supposes
+attended to.
+
+The same avoidance of too much attention to yielding place is proper in
+most other cases. Shenstone, in some clever verses, has ridiculed the
+folly; and Goldsmith, in his “Vicar,” has censured the inconvenience,
+of such outrageous formality. These things are now managed better. One
+person yields and another accepts without any controversy.
+
+When you are helped to anything at a dinner table, do not wait, with
+your plate untouched, until others have begun to eat. This stiff-piece
+of mannerism is often occurring in the country, and indeed among all
+persons who are not thoroughly bred. As soon as your plate is placed
+before you, you should take up your knife and arrange the table
+furniture around you, if you do not actually eat.
+
+As to the instruments by which the operation of dining is conducted, it
+is a matter of much consequence that entire propriety should be
+observed as to their use. We have said nothing about the use of silver
+forks, because we do not write for savages; and where, excepting among
+savages, shall we find any who at present eat with other than a French
+fork?. There are occasionally to be found some ancients, gentlemen of
+the old school, as it is termed, who persist in preferring steel, and
+who will insist on calling for a steel fork if there is none on the
+table. They consider the modem custom an affectation, and deem that all
+affectation should be avoided. They tread upon the pride of Plato, with
+more pride. There is often affectation in shunning affectation. It is
+better in things not material to submit to the established habits,
+especially when, as in the present case, the balance of convenience is
+decidedly on the part of fashion. The ordinary custom among well bred
+persons, is as follows:—soup is taken with a spoon. Some foolish
+_fashionables_ employ a fork! They might as well make use of a
+broomstick. The fish which follows is eaten with a fork, a knife not
+being used at all. The fork is held in the right hand, and a piece of
+bread in the left. For any dish in which cutting is not indispensable,
+the same arrangement is correct. When you have upon your plate, before
+the dessert, anything partially liquid, or any sauces, you must not
+take them up with a knife, but with a piece of bread, which is to be
+saturated with the juices, and then lifted to the mouth. If such an
+article forms part of the dessert, you should eat it with a spoon. In
+carving, steel instruments alone are employed. For fowls a peculiar
+knife is used, having the blade short and the handle very long. For
+fish a broad and pierced silver blade is used.
+
+A dinner—we allude to _dinner-parties_—in this country, is generally
+despatched with too much hurry. We do not mean, that persons commonly
+eat too fast, but that the courses succeed one another too
+precipitately. Dinner is the last operation of the day, and there is no
+subsequent business which demands haste. It is usually intended,
+especially when there are no ladies, to sit at the table till nine,
+ten, or eleven o’clock, and it is more agreeable that the _eating_
+should be prolonged through a considerable portion of the entire time.
+The conveniences of digestion also require more deliberation, and it
+would therefore not be unpleasant if an interval of a quarter of an
+hour or half an hour were allowed to intervene between the meats and
+the dessert.
+
+At dinner, avoid taking upon your plate too many things at once. One
+variety of meat and one kind of vegetable is the _maximum._ When you
+take another sort of meat, or any dish not properly a vegetable, you
+always change your plate.
+
+The fashion of dining inordinately late in this country is foolish. It
+is borrowed from England without any regard to the difference in
+circumstances between the two nations. In London, the whole system of
+daily duties is much later. The fact of parliament’s sitting during the
+evening and not in the morning, tends to remove the active part of the
+day to a much more advanced hour. When persons rise at ten or two
+o’clock, it is not to be expected that they should dine till eight or
+twelve in the evening. There is nothing of this sort in France. There
+they dine at three, or earlier. We have known some fashionable dinners
+in different cities in this country at so late an hour as eight or nine
+o’clock. This is absurd, where the persons have all breakfasted at
+eight in the morning. From four o’clock till five varies the proper
+hour for a dinner party here.
+
+Never talk about politics at a dinner table or in a drawing room.
+
+When you are going into a company it is of advantage to run over in
+your mind, beforehand, the topics of conversation which you intend to
+bring up, and to arrange the manner in which you will introduce them.
+You may also refresh your general ideas upon the subjects, and run
+through the details of the few very brief and sprightly anecdotes which
+you are going to repeat; and also have in readiness one or two
+brilliant phrases or striking words which you will use upon occasion.
+Further than this it is dangerous to make much preparation. If you
+commit to memory long speeches with the design of delivering them, your
+conversation will become formal, and you will be negligent of the
+observations of your company. It will tend also to impair that habit of
+readiness and quickness which it is necessary to cultivate in order to
+be agreeable.
+
+You must be very careful that you do not repeat the same anecdotes or
+let off the same good things twice to the same person. Richard Sharpe,
+the “conversationist” as he was called in London, kept a regular book
+of entry, in which he recorded where and before whom he had uttered
+severally his choice sayings. The celebrated Bubb Doddington prepared a
+manuscript book of original _facetiæ_, which he was accustomed to read
+over when he expected any distinguished company, trusting to an
+excellent memory to preserve him from iteration.
+
+If you accompany your wife to a ball, be very careful not to dance with
+her.
+
+The lady who gives a ball dances but little, and always selects her
+partners.
+
+If you are visited by any company whom you wish to drive away forever,
+or any friends whom you wish to alienate, entertain them by reading to
+them your own productions.
+
+If you ask a lady to dance, and she is engaged, do not prefer a request
+for her hand at the next set after that, because she may be engaged for
+that also, and for many more; and you would have to run through a long
+list of interrogatories, which would be absurd and awkward.
+
+A gentleman must not expect to shine in society, even the most
+frivolous, without a considerable stock of knowledge. He must be
+acquainted with facts rather than principles. He needs no very sublime
+sciences; but a knowledge of biography and literary history, of the
+fine arts, as painting, engraving, music, etc., will be of great
+service to him.
+
+Some men are always seen in the streets with an umbrella under their
+arm. Such a foible may be permitted to such men as Mr. Southey and the
+Duke of Wellington: but in ordinary men it looks like affectation, and
+the monotony is exceedingly _boring_ to the sight.
+
+To applaud at a play is not _fashionable_; but it is _respectable_ to
+evince by a gentle concurrence of one finger and a hand that you
+perceive and enjoy a good stroke in an actor.
+
+If you are at a concert, or a private musical party, never beat time
+with your feet or your cane. Nothing is more unpleasant.
+
+Few things are more agreeable or more difficult, than to relate
+anecdotes with entire propriety. They should be introduced gracefully,
+have fit connexion with the previous remarks, and be in perfect keeping
+with the company, the subject and the tone of the conversation; they
+should be short, witty and eloquent, and they should be new but not
+far-fetched.
+
+In rapid and eager discourse, when persons are excited and impatient,
+as at a ball or in a promenade, repeat nothing but the spirit and soul
+of a story, leaping over the particulars. There are however many places
+and occasions in which you may bring out the details with advantage,
+precisely, but not tediously. When you repeat a true story be always
+extremely exact. Mem. Not to forget the point of your story, like most
+narrators.
+
+When you are telling a flat anecdote by mistake, laugh egregiously,
+that others may do the same: when you repeat a spirited and striking
+bon mot, be grave and composed, in order that others may not be the
+same.
+
+For one who has travelled much, to hit the proper medium between too
+much reserve and too much intrusion, on the subject of his adventures,
+is not easy. Such a person is expected to give amusement by pleasant
+histories of his travels, and it is agreeable that he should do so, yet
+with moderation; he should not reply to every remark by a memoir,
+commencing, “When I was in Japan.”
+
+Rampant witticisms which require one to laugh, are apt to grow
+fatiguing: it is better to have a sprightly and amusing vein running
+through your conversation, which, betraying no effort, allows one to be
+grave without offence, or to smile without pain.
+
+Punning is now decidedly out of date. It is a silly and displeasing
+thing, when it becomes a habit. Some one has called it the wit of
+fools. It is within the reach of the most trifling, and is often used
+by them to puzzle and degrade the wise. Whatever may be its merits, it
+is now out of fashion.
+
+It is respectable to go to church once on Sunday. When you are there,
+behave with decency. You should never walk in fashionable places on
+Sunday afternoon. It is notoriously vulgar. If your health requires you
+to take the air, you should seek some retired street.
+
+In conversation avoid such phrases as “My _dear_ sir or madam.”
+
+A gentleman is distinguished as much by his composure as by any other
+quality. His exertions are always subdued, and his efforts easy. He is
+never surprised into an exclamation or startled by anything. Throughout
+life he avoids what the French call _scenes_, occasions of exhibition,
+in which the vulgar delight. He of course has feelings, but he never
+exhibits any to the world. He hears of the death of his pointer or the
+loss of an estate with entire calmness when others are present.
+
+It is very difficult for a literary man to preserve the perfect manners
+and exact semblance of a gentleman. He must be able to throw aside all
+the qualities which authorship tends to stamp so deeply upon him, and
+thoroughly to despise the cant of the profession. Yet this must be done
+without any affectation. Upon the whole, unless he has rare tact, he
+will please as much by going into company with all the marks of his
+employment upon his manners, than by awkwardly attempting to throw off
+his load. One would rather see a man with his fingers inked, than to
+see him nervously striving to cover them with a tattered kid glove. As
+to literary ladies, they make up their minds to sacrifice all present
+and personal admiration for future and abiding renown.
+
+It is not considered fashionable to carry a watch. What has a
+fashionable man to do with time? Besides he never goes into those
+obscure parts of the town where there are no public clocks, and his
+servant will tell him when it is time to dress for dinner. A gentleman
+carries his watch in his pantaloons with a plain black ribbon attached.
+It is only worthy of a shop-boy to put it in his waistcoat pocket.
+
+Custom allows to men the privilege of taking snuff, however unneat this
+habit may appear. If you affect the “tangible smell,” always take it
+from a box, and not from your waistcoat pocket or a paper. The common
+opinion, that Napoleon took snuff from his pocket, (which fact, by the
+way, is denied by Bourrienne,) has for ever driven this convenient
+custom from the practice of gentlemen, for the same reason that Lord
+Byron’s anti-neckcloth fashion has compelled every man of sense to bind
+a cravat religiously about his throat. As to taking snuff from a paper,
+it is vile.
+
+Women should abstain most scrupulously from tobacco, for nothing can be
+more fatal to their divinity: they should at least avoid it until past
+fifty;—that is to say, if a woman past fifty can anywhere be found.
+Chewing is permitted only to galley-slaves and metaphysicians.
+
+It was a favourite maxim of Rivarol, “Do you wish to succeed? Cite
+proper names.” Rivarol is dead in exile, having left behind him little
+property and less reputation. Judging from all experience, if we were
+to frame an extreme maxim, it should be, “If you wish to succeed never
+cite a proper name.” It will make you agreeable and hated. Your
+conversation will be listened to with interest, and your company
+shunned with horror. You will obtain the reputation of a gossip and a
+scandal-bearer, and you will soon be obliged either to purchase a razor
+or apply for a passport. If you are holding a tete-a-tete with a
+notorious Mrs. Candour, then, indeed, your tongue should be as sharp
+and nimble as the forked lightning. You must beat her at her own
+weapons, and convince her that it would be dangerous to traduce your
+character to others.
+
+A bachelor is a person who enjoys everything and pays for nothing; a
+married man is one that pays for everything and enjoys nothing. The one
+drives a sulky through life, and is not expected to take care of any
+one but himself: the other keeps a carriage, which is always too full
+to afford him a comfortable seat. Be cautious then how you exchange
+your sulky for a carriage.
+
+In ordinary conversation about persons employ the expressions _men_ and
+_women_; _gentleman_ and _lady_ are _distinctive_ appellations, and not
+to be used upon general occasions.
+
+You should say _forte-piano_, not _piano-forte_: and the _street door_,
+not the _front door._
+
+“A man may have virtue, capacity, and good conduct,” says La Bruyère,
+“and yet be insupportable; the air and manner which we neglect, as
+little things, are frequently what the world judges us by, and makes
+them decide for or against us.”
+
+In your intercourse with the world you must take persons as they are,
+and society as you find it. You must never oppose the one, nor attempt
+to alter the other. Society is a harlequin stage, upon which you never
+appear in your own dress nor without a mask. Keep your real
+dispositions for your fireside, and your real character for your
+private friend. In public, never differ from anybody, nor from
+anything. The _agreeable_ man is one who _agrees._
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Laws of Etiquette, by A Gentleman</div>
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+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Laws of Etiquette</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: A Gentleman</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 7, 2002 [eBook #5681]<br />
+[Most recently updated: September 8, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
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+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Holly Ingraham</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAWS OF ETIQUETTE ***</div>
+
+<h1>The Laws of Etiquette</h1>
+
+<h3>or,<br />
+Short Rules and Reflections<br />
+for<br />
+CONDUCT IN SOCIETY.</h3>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">by A Gentleman</h2>
+
+<h4>PHILADELPHIA:</h4>
+
+<h5>1836.</h5>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="letter">
+Transcriber&rsquo;s Note: Note the inconsistency of &ldquo;Brummell&rdquo; in
+one place of the original, and &ldquo;Brummel&rdquo; all other places. Also
+&ldquo;Shakspeare,&rdquo; &ldquo;Don Quixotte,&rdquo; &ldquo;Sir Piercy,&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Esop&rdquo; are as in the original.
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#pref01">PREFACE</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#pref02">INTRODUCTION</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. GOOD BREEDING.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. DRESS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. SALUTATIONS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. THE DRAWING-ROOM. COMPANY. CONVERSATION.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. THE ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. LETTERS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. VISITS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. APPOINTMENTS AND PUNCTUALITY.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. DINNER.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. TRAVELLING.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. BALLS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. FUNERALS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. SERVANTS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. FASHION.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. MISCELLANEOUS.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="pref01"></a>PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>
+The author of the present volume has endeavoured to embody, in as short a space
+as possible, some of the results of his own experience and observation in
+society, and submits the work to the public, with the hope that the remarks
+which are contained in it, may prove available for the benefit of others. It
+is, of course, scarcely possible that anything original should be found in a
+volume like this: almost all that it contains must have fallen under the notice
+of every man of penetration who has been in the habit of frequenting good
+society. Many of the precepts have probably been contained in works of a
+similar character which have appeared in England and France since the days of
+Lord Chesterfield. Nothing however has been copied from them in the compilation
+of this work, the author having in fact scarcely any acquaintance with books of
+this description, and many years having elapsed since he has opened even the
+pages of the noble oracle. He has drawn entirely from his own resources, with
+the exception of some hints for arrangement, and a few brief reflections, which
+have been derived from the French.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The present volume is almost apart from criticism. It has no pretensions to be
+judged as a literary work&mdash;its sole merit depending upon its correctness
+and fitness of application. Upon these grounds he ventures to hope for it a
+favourable reception.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="pref02"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+<p>
+The great error into which nearly all foreigners and most Americans fall, who
+write or speak of society in this country, arises from confounding the
+political with the social system. In most other countries, in England, France,
+and all those nations whose government is monarchical or aristocratic, these
+systems are indeed similar. Society is there intimately connected with the
+government, and the distinctions in one are the origin of gradations in the
+other. The chief part of the society of the kingdom is assembled in the
+capital, and the same persons who legislate for the country legislate also for
+it. But in America the two systems are totally unconnected, and altogether
+different in character. In remodelling the form of the administration, society
+remained unrepublican. There is perfect freedom of political privilege, all are
+the same upon the hustings, or at a political meeting; but this equality does
+not extend to the drawing-room or the parlour. None are excluded from the
+highest councils of the nation, but it does not follow that all can enter into
+the highest ranks, of society. In point of fact, we think that there is more
+exclusiveness in the society of this country, than there is in that even of
+England&mdash;far more than there is in France. And the explanation may perhaps
+be found in the fact which we hate mentioned above. There being <i>there</i>
+less danger of permanent disarrangement or confusion of ranks by the occasional
+admission of the low-born aspirant, there does not exist the same necessity for
+a jealous guarding of the barriers as there does here. The distinction of
+classes, also, after the first or second, is actually more clearly defined, and
+more rigidly observed in America, than in any country of Europe. Persons
+unaccustomed to look searchingly at these matters, may be surprised to hear it;
+but we know from observation, that there are among the respectable, in any city
+of the United States, at least ten distinct ranks. We cannot, of course, here
+point them out, because we could not do it without mentioning names.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Every man is naturally desirous of finding entrance into the best society of
+his country, and it becomes therefore a matter of importance to ascertain what
+qualifications are demanded for admittance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A writer who is popularly unpopular, has remarked, that the test of standing in
+Boston, is literary eminence; in New York, wealth; and in Philadelphia, purity
+of blood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To this remark, we can only oppose our opinion, that none of these are
+indispensable, and none of them sufficient. The society of this country, unlike
+that of England, does not court literary talent. We have cases in our
+recollection, which prove the remark, in relation to the highest ranks, even of
+Boston. Wealth has no pretensions to be the standard anywhere. In New York, the
+Liverpool of America, although the rich may make greater display and
+<i>bruit</i>, yet all of the merely rich, will find that there does exist a
+small and unchanging circle, whether above or below them, &lsquo;it is not ours
+to say,&rsquo; yet completely apart from them, into which they would rejoice to
+find entrance, and from which they would be glad to receive emigrants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Whatever may be the accomplishments necessary to render one capable of reaching
+the highest platform of social eminence, and it is not easy to define clearly
+what they are, there is one thing, and one alone, which will enable any man to
+<i>retain</i> his station there; and that is, GOOD BREEDING. Without it, we
+believe that literature, wealth, and even blood, will be unsuccessful. By it,
+if it co-exist with a certain capacity of affording pleasure by conversation,
+any one, we imagine, could frequent the very best society in every city of
+America, and <i>perhaps the very best alone.</i> To obtain, then, the manners
+of a gentleman is a matter of no small importance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We do not pretend that a man will be metamorphosed into a gentleman by reading
+this book, or any other book. Refined manners are like refined style which
+Cicero compares to the colour of the cheeks, which is not acquired by sudden or
+violent exposure to heat, but by continual walking in the sun. Good manners can
+certainly only be acquired by much usage in good company. But there are a
+number of little forms, imperiously enacted by custom, which may be taught in
+this manner, and the conscious ignorance of which often prevents persons from
+going into company at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+These forms may be abundantly absurd, but still they <i>must</i> be attended
+to; for one half the world does and always will observe them, and the other
+half is at a great disadvantage if it does not. Intercourse is constantly
+taking place, and an awkward man of letters, in the society of a polished man
+of the world, is like a strong man contending with a skilful fencer. Mr.
+Addison says, that he once saw the ablest mathematician in the kingdom utterly
+embarrassed, from not knowing whether he ought to stand or sit when my lord
+duke drank his health.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some of the many errors which are liable to be committed through ignorance of
+usage, are pleasantly pointed out in the following story, which is related by a
+French writer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Abbé Cosson, professor in the <i>Collége Mazarin</i>, thoroughly
+accomplished in the art of teaching, saturated with Greek, Latin, and
+literature, considered himself a perfect well of science: he had no conception
+that a man who knew all Persius and Horace by heart could possibly commit an
+error&mdash;above all, an error at table. But it was not long before he
+discovered his mistake. One day, after dining with the Abbé de Radonvillers at
+Versailles, in company with several courtiers and marshals of France, he was
+boasting of the rare acquaintance with etiquette and custom which he had
+exhibited at dinner. The Abbé Delille, who heard this eulogy upon his own
+conduct, interrupted his harangue, by offering to wager that he had committed
+at least a hundred improprieties at the table. &ldquo;How is it
+possible!&rdquo; exclaimed Cosson. &ldquo;I did exactly like the rest of the
+company.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What absurdity!&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;You did a thousand things
+which no one else did. First, when you sat down at the table, what did you do
+with your napkin?&rdquo; &ldquo;My napkin? Why just what every body else did
+with theirs. I unfolded it entire]y, and fastened it to my buttonhole.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Well, my dear friend,&rdquo; said Delille, &ldquo;you were the only one
+that did <i>that</i>, at all events. No one hangs up his napkin in that style;
+they are contented with placing it on their knees. And what did you, do when
+you took your soup?&rdquo; &ldquo;Like the others, I believe. I took my spoon
+in one hand, and my fork in the other&mdash;&rdquo; &ldquo;Your fork! Who ever
+eat soup with a fork?&mdash;But to proceed; after your soup, what did you
+eat?&rdquo; &ldquo;A fresh egg.&rdquo; &ldquo;And what did you do with the
+shell?&rdquo; &ldquo;Handed it to the servant who stood behind my chair.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;With out breaking it?&rdquo; &ldquo;Without breaking it, of
+course.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, my dear Abbé, nobody ever eats an egg without
+breaking the shell. And after your egg&mdash;?&rdquo; &ldquo;I asked the Abbé
+Radonvillers to send me a piece of the hen near him.&rdquo; &ldquo;Bless my
+soul! a piece of the <i>hen</i>? You never speak of hens excepting in the
+barn-yard. You should have asked for fowl or chicken. But you say nothing of
+your mode of drinking.&rdquo; &ldquo;Like all the rest, I asked for
+<i>claret</i> and <i>champagne.</i>&rdquo; &ldquo;Let me inform you, then, that
+persons always ask for <i>claret wine</i> and <i>champagne wine.</i> But, tell
+me, how did you eat your bread?&rdquo; &ldquo;Surely I did that properly. I cut
+it with my knife, in the most regular manner possible.&rdquo; &ldquo;Bread
+should always be broken, not cut. But the coffee, how did you manage it?&rdquo;
+&ldquo;It was rather too hot, and I poured a little of it into my
+saucer.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, you committed here the greatest fault of all. You
+should never pour your coffee into the saucer, but always drink it from the
+cup.&rdquo; The poor Abbé was confounded. He felt that though one might be
+master of the seven sciences, yet that there was another species of knowledge
+which, if less dignified, was equally important.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This occurred many years ago, but there is not one of the observances neglected
+by the Abbé Cosson, which is not enforced with equal rigidness in the present
+day.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br />
+GOOD BREEDING.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The formalities of refined society were at first established for the purpose of
+facilitating the intercourse of persons of the same standing, and increasing
+the happiness of all to whom they apply. They are now kept up, both to assist
+the convenience of intercourse and to prevent too great familiarity. If they
+are carried too far, and escape from the control of good sense, they become
+impediments to enjoyment. Among the Chinese they serve only the purpose of
+annoying to an incalculable degree. &ldquo;The government,&rdquo; says De
+Marcy, in writing of China, &ldquo;constantly applies itself to preserve, not
+only in the court and among the great, but among the people themselves, a
+constant habit of civility and courtesy. The Chinese have an infinity of books
+upon such subjects; one of these treatises contains more than three thousand
+articles.&mdash; Everything is pointed out with the most minute detail; the
+manner of saluting, of visiting, of making presents, of writing letters, of
+eating, etc.: and these customs have the force of laws&mdash;no one can
+dispense with them. There is a special tribunal at Peking, of which it is one
+of the chief duties, to ensure the observance of these civil ordinances?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One would think that one was here reading an account of the capital of France.
+It depends, then, upon the spirit in which these forms are observed, whether
+their result shall be beneficial or not. The French and the Chinese are the
+most formal of all the nations. Yet the one is the stiffest and most distant;
+the other, the easiest and most social.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We may define politeness,&rdquo; says La Bruyère, &ldquo;though we
+cannot tell where to fix it in practice. It observes received usages and
+customs, is bound to times and places, and is not the same thing in the two
+sexes or in different conditions. Wit alone cannot obtain it: it is acquired
+and brought to perfection by emulation. Some dispositions alone are susceptible
+of politeness, as others are only capable of great talents or solid virtues. It
+is true politeness puts merit forward, and renders it agreeable, and a man must
+have eminent qualifications to support himself without it.&rdquo; Perhaps even
+the greatest merit cannot successfully straggle against unfortunate and
+disagreeable manners. Lord Chesterfield says that the Duke of Marlborough owed
+his first promotions to the suavity of his manners, and that without it he
+could not have risen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+La Bruyère has elsewhere given this happy definition of politeness, the other
+passage being rather a description of it. &ldquo;Politeness seems to be a
+certain care, by the manner of our words and actions, to make others pleased
+with us and themselves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We must here stop to point out an error which is often committed both in
+practice and opinion, and which consists in confounding together the gentleman
+and the man of fashion. No two characters can be more distinct than these. Good
+sense and self-respect are the foundations of the one&mdash;notoriety and
+influence the objects of the other. Men of fashion are to be seen everywhere: a
+pure and mere gentleman is the rarest thing alive. Brummel was a man of
+fashion; but it would be a perversion of terms to apply to him &ldquo;a very
+expressive word in our language,&mdash;a word, denoting an assemblage of many
+real virtues and of many qualities approaching to virtues, and an union of
+manners at once pleasing and commanding respect,&mdash; the word
+gentleman.&rdquo;* The requisites to compose this last character are natural
+ease of manner, and an acquaintance with the &ldquo;outward habit of
+encounter&rdquo;&mdash;dignity and self-possession&mdash;a respect for all the
+decencies of life, and perfect freedom from all affectation. Dr.
+Johnson&rsquo;s bearing during his interview with the king showed him to be a
+thorough gentleman, and demonstrates how rare and elevated that character is.
+When his majesty expressed in the language of compliment his high opinion of
+Johnson&rsquo;s merits, the latter bowed in silence. If Chesterfield could have
+retained sufficient presence of mind to have done the same on such an occasion,
+he would have applauded himself to the end of his days. So delicate is the
+nature of those qualities that constitute a gentleman, that there is but one
+exhibition of this description of persons in all the literary and dramatic
+fictions from Shakespeare downward. Scott has not attempted it. Bulwer, in
+&ldquo;Pelham,&rdquo; has shot wide of the mark. It was reserved for the author
+of two very singular productions, &ldquo;Sydenham&rdquo; and its continuation
+&ldquo;Alice Paulet&rdquo;&mdash;works of extraordinary merits and
+extraordinary faults&mdash;to portray this character completely, in the person
+of Mr. Paulet.
+</p>
+
+<p class="footnote">
+* Charles Butler&rsquo;s Reminiscences
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br />
+DRESS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+First impressions are apt to be permanent; it is therefore of importance that
+they should be favourable. The dress of an individual is that circumstance from
+which you first form your opinion of him. It is even more prominent than
+manner, It is indeed the only thing which is remarked in a casual encounter, or
+during the first interview. It, therefore, should be the first care.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What style is to our thoughts, dress is to our persons. It may supply the place
+of more solid qualities, and without it the most solid are of little avail.
+Numbers have owed their elevation to their attention to the toilet. Place,
+fortune, marriage have all been lost by neglecting it. A man need not mingle
+long with the world to find occasion to exclaim with Sedaine, &ldquo;Ah! mon
+habit, que je vous remercie!&rdquo; In spite of the proverb, the dress often
+<i>does</i> make the monk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Your dress should always be consistent with your age and your natural exterior.
+That which looks outr, on one man, will be agreeable on another. As success in
+this respect depends almost entirely upon particular circumstances and personal
+peculiarities, it is impossible to give general directions of much importance.
+We can only point out the field for study and research; it belongs to each
+one&rsquo;s own genius and industry to deduce the results. However ugly you may
+be, rest assured that there is some style of habiliment which will make you
+passable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If, for example, you have a stain upon your cheek which rivals in brilliancy
+the best Chateau-Margout; or, are afflicted with a nose whose lustre dims the
+ruby, you may employ such hues of dress, that the eye, instead of being shocked
+by the strangeness of the defect, will be charmed by the graceful harmony of
+the colours. Every one cannot indeed be an Adonis, but it is his own fault if
+he is an Esop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have bad, squinting eyes, which have lost their lashes and are bordered
+with red, you should wear spectacles. If the defect be great, your glasses
+should be coloured. In such cases emulate the sky rather than the sea: green
+spectacles are an abomination, fitted only for students in divinity,&mdash;
+blue ones are respectable and even <i>distingué.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Almost every defect of face may be concealed by a judicious use and arrangement
+of hair. Take care, however, that your hair be not of one colour and your
+whiskers of another; and let your wig be large enough to cover the <i>whole</i>
+of your red or white hair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is evident, therefore, that though a man may be ugly, there is no necessity
+for his being shocking. Would that all men were convinced of this! I verily
+believe that if Mr. &mdash; in his walking-dress, and Mr. &mdash; in his
+evening costume were to meet alone, in some solitary place, where there was
+nothing to divert their attention from one another, they would expire of mutual
+hideousness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have any defect, so striking and so ridiculous as to procure you a
+<i>nickname</i> then indeed there is but one remedy,&mdash;renounce society.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the morning, before eleven o&rsquo;clock even if you go out, you should not
+be dressed. You would be stamped a <i>parvenu</i> if you were seen in anything
+better than a reputable old frock coat. If you remain at home, and are a
+bachelor, it is permitted to receive visitors in a morning gown. In summer,
+calico; in winter, figured cloth, faced with fur. At dinner, a coat, of course,
+is indispensable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The effect of a frock coat is to conceal the height. If, therefore, you are
+beneath the ordinary statue, or much above it, you should affect frock coats on
+all occasions that etiquette permits.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before going to a ball or party it is not sufficient that you consult your
+mirror twenty times. You must be personally inspected by your servant or a
+friend. Through defect of this, I once saw a gentleman enter a ball-room,
+attired with scrupulous elegance, but with one of his suspenders curling in
+graceful festoons about his feet. His glass could not show what was behind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you are about to present yourself in a company composed only of men, you may
+wear boots. If there be but one lady present, pumps and silk-stockings are
+indispensable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is a common proverb which says, that if a man be well dressed as to head
+and feet, he may present himself everywhere. The assertion is as false as Mr.
+Kemble&rsquo;s voice. Happy indeed if it were necessary to perfect only the
+extremities. The coat, the waistcoat, the gloves, and, above all, the cravat,
+must be alike ignorant of blemish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Upon the subject of the cravat&mdash;(for heaven&rsquo;s sake and
+Brummel&rsquo;s, never appear in a stock after twelve o&rsquo;clock)&mdash;We
+cannot at present say anything. If we were to say anything, we could not be
+content without saying all, and to say all would require a folio. A book has
+been published upon the subject, entitled &ldquo;The Cravat considered in its
+moral, literary, political, military, and religious attributes.&rdquo; This and
+a clever, though less profound, treatise on &ldquo;The art of tying the
+Cravat,&rdquo; are as indispensable to a gentleman as an ice at twelve
+o&rsquo;clock.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When we speak of excellence in dress we do not mean richness of clothing, nor
+manifested elaboration. Faultless propriety, perfect harmony, and a refined
+simplicity,&mdash;these are the charms which fascinate here.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is as great a sin to be finical in dress as to be negligent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Upon this subject the ladies are the only infallible oracles. Apart from the
+perfection to which they must of necessity arrive, from devoting their entire
+existence to such considerations, they seem to be endued with an inexpressible
+tact, a sort of sixth sense, which reveals intuitively the proper distinctions.
+That your dress is approved by a man is nothing;&mdash;you cannot enjoy the
+high satisfaction of being perfectly comme il faut, until your performance has
+received the seal of a woman&rsquo;s approbation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If the benefits to be derived from cultivating your exterior do not appear
+sufficiently powerful to induce attention, the inconveniences arising from too
+great disregard may perhaps prevail. Sir Matthew Hale, in the earlier part of
+his life, dressed so badly that he was once seized by the press-gang. Not long
+since, as I entered the hall of a public hotel, I saw a person so villainously
+habited, that supposing him to be one of the servants, I desired him to take my
+luggage upstairs, and was on the point of offering him a shilling, when I
+discovered that I was addressing the Honorable Mr. * * *, one of the most
+eminent American statesmen.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br />
+SALUTATIONS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The salutation, says a French writer, is the touchstone of good breeding.
+According to circumstances, it should be respectful, cordial, civil,
+affectionate or familiar:&mdash;an inclination of the head, a gesture with the
+hand, the touching or doffing of the hat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you remove your hat you need not at the same time bend the dorsal vertebræ
+of your body, unless you wish to be very reverential, as in saluting a bishop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is a mark of high breeding not to speak to a lady in the street, until you
+perceive that she has noticed you by an inclination of the head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some ladies <i>courtesy</i> in the street, a movement not gracefully consistent
+with locomotion. They should always <i>bow.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If an individual of the lowest rank, or without any rank at all, takes off his
+hat to you, you should do the same in return. A bow, says La Fontaine, is a
+note drawn at sight. If you acknowledge it, you must pay the full amount. The
+two best-bred men in England, Charles the Second and George the Fourth, never
+failed to take off their hats to the meanest of their subjects.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Avoid condescending bows to your friends and equals. If you meet a rich
+parvenu, whose consequence you wish to reprove, you may salute him in a very
+patronizing manner: or else, in acknowledging his bow, look somewhat surprised
+and say, &ldquo;Mister&mdash;eh&mdash;eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have remarkably fine teeth, you may smile affectionately upon the bowee,
+without speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In passing ladies of rank, whom you meet in society, bow, but do not speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have anything to say to any one in the street, especially a lady,
+however intimate you may be, do not stop the person, but turn round and walk in
+company; you can take leave at the end of the street.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If there is any one of your acquaintance, with whom you have a difference, do
+not avoid looking at him, unless from the nature of things the quarrel is
+necessarily for life. It is almost always better to bow with cold civility,
+though without speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a general rule never <i>cut</i> any one in the street. Even political and
+steamboat acquaintances should be noticed by the slightest movement in the
+world. If they presume to converse with you, or stop you to introduce their
+companion, it is then time to use your eye-glass, and say, &ldquo;I never knew
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you address a lady in the open air, you remain uncovered until she has
+desired you <i>twice</i> to put on your hat. In general, if you are in any
+place where <i>etiquette</i> requires you to remain uncovered or standing, and
+a lady, or one much your superior, requests you to be covered or to sit, you
+may how off the command. If it is repeated, you should comply. You thereby pay
+the person a marked, but delicate, compliment, by allowing their will to be
+superior to the general obligations of etiquette.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When two Americans, who &ldquo;have not been introduced,&rdquo; meet in some
+public place, as in a theatre, a stagecoach, or a steamboat, they will sit for
+an hour staring in one another&rsquo;s faces, but without a word of
+conversation. This form of unpoliteness has been adopted from the English, and
+it is as little worthy of imitation as the form of their government. Good sense
+and convenience are the foundations of good breeding; and it is assuredly
+vastly more reasonable and more agreeable to enjoy a passing gratification,
+when no sequent evil is to be apprehended, than to be rendered uncomfortable by
+an ill-founded pride. It is therefore better to carry on an easy and civil
+conversation. A snuff-box, or some polite accommodation rendered, may serve for
+an opening. Talk only about generalities,&mdash;the play, the roads, the
+weather. Avoid speaking of persons or politics, for, if the individual is of
+the opposite party to yourself, you will be engaged in a controversy: if he
+holds the same opinions, you will be overwhelmed with a flood of vulgar
+intelligence, which may soil your mind. Be reservedly civil while the colloquy
+lasts, and let the acquaintance cease with the occasion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you are introduced to a gentleman do not give your hand, but merely bow
+with politeness: and if you have requested the introduction, or know the person
+by reputation, you may make a speech. I am aware that high authority might
+easily be found in this country to sanction the custom of giving the hand upon
+a first meeting, but it is undoubtedly a solecism in manners. The habit has
+been adopted by us, with some improvement for the worse, from France. When two
+Frenchmen are presented to one another, each <i>presses</i> the other&rsquo;s
+hand with delicate affection. The English, however, never do so: and the
+practice, if abstractly correct, is altogether inconsistent with the caution of
+manner which is characteristic of their nation and our own. If we are to follow
+the French, in shaking hands with one whom we have never before seen, we should
+certainly imitate them also in kissing our <i>intimate</i> male acquaintances.
+If, however, you ought only to bow to a new acquaintance, you surely should do
+more to old ones. If you meet an intimate friend fifty times in a morning, give
+your hand every time,&mdash;an observance of propriety, which, though worthy of
+universal adoption, is in this country only followed by the purists in
+politeness. The requisitions of etiquette, if they should be obeyed at all,
+should be obeyed fully. This decent formality prevents acquaintance from being
+too distant, while, at the same time, it preserves the &ldquo;familiar&rdquo;
+from becoming &ldquo;vulgar.&rdquo; They may be little things, but
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;These little things are great to little men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Goldsmith.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br />
+THE DRAWING-ROOM. COMPANY. CONVERSATION.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The grand object for which a gentleman exists, is to excel in company.
+Conversation is the mean of his distinction,&mdash;the drawing-room the scene
+of his glory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you enter a drawing-room, where there is a ball or a party, you salute the
+lady of the house before speaking to any one else. Even your most intimate
+friends are enveloped in an opaque atmosphere until you have made your bow to
+your entertainer. We must take occasion here to obelize a custom which prevails
+too generally in this country. The company enter the back door of the back
+parlour, and the mistress of the house is seated at the other extremity of the
+front parlour. It is therefore necessary to traverse the length of two rooms in
+order to reach her. A voyage of this kind is by no means an easy undertaking,
+when there are Circes and Calypsos assailing one on every side; and when one
+has reached the conclusion, one cannot perhaps distinguish the object of
+one&rsquo;s search at a <i>coup d&rsquo;œil.</i> It would be in every point of
+view more appropriate if the lady were to stand directly opposite to the door
+of the back parlour. Such is the custom in the best companies abroad. Upon a
+single gentleman entering at a late hour, it is not so obligatory to speak
+first to the mistress of the ceremonies. He may be allowed to converge his way
+up to her. When you leave a room before the others, go without speaking to any
+one, and, if possible, unseen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never permit the sanctity of the drawing-room to be violated by a boot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fashionable society is divided into <i>sets</i>, in all of which there is some
+peculiarity of manner, or some dominant tone of feeling. It is necessary to
+study these peculiarities before entering the circle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In each of these sets there is generally some <i>gentleman</i>, who rules, and
+gives it its character, or, rather, who is not ruler, but the first and most
+favoured subject, and the prime minister of the ladies&rsquo; will. Him you
+must endeavour to imitate, taking care not to imitate him so well as to excel
+him. To differ in manner or opinion from him is to render yourself unfit for
+that circle. To speak disrespectfully of him is to insult personally every lady
+who composes it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In company, though none are &ldquo;free,&rdquo; yet all are
+&ldquo;equal.&rdquo; All therefore whom you meet, should be treated with equal
+respect, although interest may dictate toward each different degrees of
+attention. It is disrespectful to the inviter to shun any of her guests. Those
+whom she has honoured by asking to her house, you should sanction by admitting
+to your acquaintance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you meet any one whom you have never heard of before at the table of a
+gentleman, or in the drawing-room of a lady, you may converse with him with
+entire propriety. The form of &ldquo;introduction&rdquo; is nothing more than a
+statement by a mutual friend that two gentlemen are by rank and manners fit
+acquaintances for one another. All this may be presumed from the fact, that
+both meet at a respectable house. This is the theory of the matter. Custom,
+however, requires that you should take the earliest opportunity afterwards to
+be regularly presented to such an one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 professions. Do not talk of politics with a
+journalist, of fevers to a physician, of stocks to a broker,&mdash;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&mdash;to a
+philosopher, ignorance of human nature. The one considers that &ldquo;Tous les
+hommes sont égaux devant la politesse:&rdquo; the other remembers that though
+it may be agreeable to be patronised and assisted, yet it is still more
+agreeable to be treated as if you needed no patronage, and were above
+assistance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir Joshua Reynolds once received from two noblemen invitations to visit them
+on Sunday morning. The first, whom he waited upon, welcomed him with the most
+obsequious condescension, treated him with all the attention in the world,
+professed that he was so desirous of seeing him, that he had mentioned Sunday
+as the time for his visit, supposing him to be too much engaged during the
+week, to spare time enough for the purpose, concluded his compliments by an
+eulogy on painting, and smiled him affectionately to the door. Sir Joshua left
+him, to call upon the other. That one received him with respectful civility,
+and behaved to him as he would have behaved to an equal in the
+peerage:&mdash;said nothing about Raphael nor Correggio, but conversed with
+ease about literature and men. This nobleman was the Earl of Chesterfield. Sir
+Joshua felt, that though the one had said that he respected him, the other had
+proved that he did, and went away from this one gratified rather than from the
+first. Reader, there is wisdom in this anecdote. Mark, learn, and inwardly
+digest it: and let this be the moral which you deduce,&mdash;that there is
+distinction in society, but that there are no distinctions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great business in company is conversation. It should be studied as art.
+Style in conversation is as important, and as capable of cultivation as style
+in writing. The manner of saying things is what gives them their value.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The most important requisite for succeeding here, is constant and unfaltering
+attention. That which Churchill has noted as the greatest virtue on the stage,
+is also the most necessary in company,&mdash;to be &ldquo;always attentive to
+the business of the scene.&rdquo; Your understanding should, like your person,
+be armed at all points. Never go into society with your mind <i>en
+deshabille.</i> It is fatal to success to be all absent or <i>distrait.</i> The
+secret of conversation has been said to consist in building upon the remark of
+your companion. Men of the strongest minds, who have solitary habits and
+bookish dispositions, rarely excel in sprightly colloquy, because they seize
+upon the <i>thing</i> itself,&mdash;the subject abstractly,&mdash;instead of
+attending to the <i>language</i> of other speakers, and do not cultivate
+<i>verbal</i> pleasantries and refinements. He who does otherwise gains a
+reputation for quickness, and pleases by showing that he has regarded the
+observation of others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is an error to suppose that conversation consists in talking. A more
+important thing is to listen discreetly. Mirabeau said, that to succeed in the
+world, it is necessary to submit to be taught many things which you understand,
+by persons who know nothing about them. Flattery is the smoothest path to
+success; and the most refined and gratifying compliment you can pay, is to
+listen. &ldquo;The wit of conversation consists more in finding it in
+others,&rdquo; says La Bruyère, &ldquo;than in showing a great deal yourself:
+he who goes from your conversation pleased with himself and his own wit, is
+perfectly well pleased with you. Most men had rather please than admire you,
+and seek less to be instructed,&mdash;nay, delighted,&mdash;than to be approved
+and applauded. The most delicate pleasure is to please another.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is certainly proper enough to convince others of your merits. But the
+highest idea which you can give a man of your own penetration, is to be
+thoroughly impressed with his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Patience is a social engine, as well as a Christian virtue. To listen, to wait,
+and to be wearied are the certain elements of good fortune.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If there be any foreigner present at a dinner party, or small evening party,
+who does not understand the language which is spoken, good breeding requires
+that the conversation should be carried on entirely in his language. Even among
+your most intimate friends, never address any one in a language not understood
+by all the others. It is as bad as whispering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never speak to any one in company about a private affair which is not
+understood by others, as asking how <i>that</i> matter is coming on, &amp;c. In
+so doing you indicate your opinion that the rest are <i>de trop.</i> If you
+wish to make any such inquiries, always explain to others the business about
+which you inquire, if the subject admit of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If upon the entrance of a visitor you continue a conversation begun before, you
+should always explain the subject to the new-comer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If there is any one in the company whom you do not know, be careful how you let
+off any epigrams or pleasant little sarcasms. You might be very witty upon
+halters to a man whose father had been hanged. The first requisite for
+successful conversation is to know your company well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We have spoken above of the necessity of relinquishing the prerogative of our
+race, and being contented with recipient silence. There is another precept of a
+kindred nature to be observed, namely, not to talk too well when you do talk.
+You do not raise yourself much in the opinion of another, if at the same time
+that you amuse him, you wound him in the nicest point,&mdash;his self-love.
+Besides irritating vanity, a constant flow of wit is excessively fatiguing to
+the listeners. A witty man is an agreeable acquaintance, but a tiresome friend.
+&ldquo;The wit of the company, next to the butt of the company,&rdquo; says
+Mrs. Montagu, &ldquo;is the meanest person in it. The great duty of
+conversation is to follow suit, as you do at whist: if the eldest hand plays
+the deuce of diamonds, let not his next neighbour dash down the king of hearts,
+because his hand is full of honours. I do not love to see a man of wit win all
+the tricks in conversation.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In addressing any one, always look at him; and if there are several present,
+you will please more by directing some portion of your conversation, as an
+anecdote or statement, to each one individually in turn. This was the great
+secret of Sheridan&rsquo;s charming manner. His bon-mots were not numerous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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 lately inquired of what branch of medical practice a certain
+gentleman was professor. He held the chair of <i>midwifery</i>!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is indispensable for conversation to be well acquainted with the current
+news and the historical events of the last few years. It is not convenient to
+be quite so far behind the rest of the world in such matters, as the Courier
+des Etats-Unis. That sapient journal lately announced the dethronement of
+Charles X. We may expect soon to hear of the accession of Louis Philippe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In society never quote. If you get entangled in a dispute with some learned
+blockhead, you may silence him with a few extemporary quotations. Select the
+author for whom he has the greatest admiration, and give him a passage in the
+style of that writer, which most pointedly condemns the opinion he supports. If
+it does not convince him, he will be so much stunned with amazement that you
+can make your escape, and avoid the unpleasant necessity of knocking him down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The ordinary weapons which one employs in social encounter, are, whether
+dignified or not, always at least honourable. There are some, however, who
+habitually prefer to bribe the judge, rather than strengthen their cause. The
+instrument of such is flattery. There are, indeed, cases in which a man of
+honour may use the same weapon; as there are cases in which a poisoned sword
+may be employed for self-defence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flattery prevails over all, always, and in all places; it conquers the
+conqueror of Danäe: few are beneath it, none above it: the court, the camp, the
+church, are the scenes of its victories, and all mankind the subjects of its
+triumphs. It will be acknowledged, then, that a man possesses no very
+contemptible power who can flatter skillfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The power of flattery may be derived from several sources. It may be, that the
+person flattered, finding himself gratified, and conscious that it is to the
+flatterer that he is indebted for this gratification, feels an obligation to
+him, without inquiring the reason; or it may be, that imagining ourselves to
+stand high in the good opinion of the one that praises us, We comply with what
+he desires, rather than forfeit that esteem: or, finally, flattery may be only
+a marked politeness, and we submit ourselves to the control of the flatterer
+rather than be guilty of the rudeness of opposing him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flattery never should be direct. It should not be stated, but inferred. It is
+better acted than uttered. Flattery should seem to be the unwitting and even
+unwilling expression of genuine admiration. Some very weak persons do not
+require that expressions of praise and esteem toward them should be sincere.
+They are pleased with the incense, although they perceive whence it arises:
+they are pleased that they are of importance enough to have their favour
+courted. But in most eases it is necessary that the flattery should appear to
+be the honest offspring of the feelings. <i>Such</i> flattery <i>must</i>
+succeed; for, it is founded upon a principle in our nature which is as deep as
+life; namely, that we always love those who we think love us.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is sometimes flattery to accept praises.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never flatter one person in the presence of another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never commend a lady&rsquo;s musical skill to another lady who herself plays.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It has often, however, a good effect to praise one man to his particular
+friend, if it be for something to which that friend has himself no pretensions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is an error to imagine that men are less intoxicated with flattery than
+women. The only difference is that esteem must be expressed to women, but
+proved to men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flattery is of course efficacious to obtain positive benefits. It is of, more
+constant use, however, for purposes of defence. You conquer an attack of
+rudeness by courtesy: you avert an attack of accusation by flattery. Every:one
+remembers the anecdote of Dr. Johnson and Mr. Ewing. &ldquo;Prince,&rdquo; said
+Napoleon to Talleyrand, &ldquo;they tell me that you sometimes speculate
+improperly in the funds.&rdquo; &ldquo;They do me wrong then,&rdquo; said
+Talleyrand. &ldquo;But how did you acquire so much money!&rdquo; &ldquo;I
+bought stock the day before you were proclaimed First Consul,&rdquo; replied
+the ex-bishop, &ldquo;and I sold it the day after.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Compliments are light skirmishes in the war of flattery, for the purpose of
+obtaining an occasional object. They are little false coins that you receive
+with one hand and pay away with the other. To flatter requires a profound
+knowledge of human nature and of the character of your subject; to compliment
+skillfully, it is sufficient that you are a pupil of Spurzheim.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is a common practice with men to abstain from grave conversation with women.
+And the habit is in general judicious. If the woman is young, gay and
+trifling, talk to her only of the latest fashions, the gossip of the day, etc.
+But this in other cases is not to be done. Most women who are a little old,
+particularly married women &mdash; and even some who are young &mdash; wish to
+obtain a reputation for intellect and an acquaintance With science. You
+therefore pay them a real compliment, and gratify their self-love, by
+conversing occasionally upon grave matters, which they do not understand, and
+do not really relish. You may interrupt a discussion on the beauty of a dahlia,
+by observing that as you know that they take an interest in such things you
+mention the discovery of a new method of analyzing curves of double curvature.
+Men who talk only of trifles will rarely be popular with women past
+twenty-five.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Talk to a mother about her children. Women are never tired of hearing of
+themselves and their children.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you go to a house where there are children you should take especial care to
+conciliate their good will by a little manly <i>tete-a-tete</i>, otherwise you
+may get a ball against your skins, or be tumbled from a three-legged chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To be able to converse with women you must study their vocabulary. You would
+make a great mistake in interpreting <i>never, forever</i>, as they are
+explained in Johnson.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Do not be for ever telling a woman that she is handsome, witty, etc. She knows
+that a vast deal better than you do.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Do not allow your love for one woman to prevent your paying attention to
+others. The object of your love is the only one who ought to perceive it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little pride, which reminds you what is due to yourself, and a little good
+nature, which suggests what is due to others, are the pre-requisites for the
+moral constitution of a gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Too much vivacity and too much inertness are both fatal to politeness. By the
+former we are hurried too far, by the latter we are kept too much back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Nil admirari</i>, the precept of stoicism, is the precept for conduct among
+gentlemen. All excitement must be studiously avoided. When you are with ladies
+the case is different. Among them, wonder, astonishment, ecstacy, and
+enthusiasm, are necessary in order to be believed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never dispute in the presence of other persons. If a man states an opinion
+which you cannot adopt, say nothing. If he states a fact which is of little
+importance, you may carelessly assent. When you differ let it be indirectly;
+rather a want of assent than actual dissent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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, &ldquo;How is your brother
+to-day?&rdquo; but &ldquo;I hope your brother is quite well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never ask a lady a question about anything whatever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is a point of courtly etiquette which is observed rigorously by every one
+who draws nigh, that a question must never be put to a king.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never ask a question about the price of a thing. This horrible error is often
+committed by a <i>nouveau riche.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have accepted an invitation to a party never fail to keep your promise.
+It is cruel to the lady of the house to accept, and then send an apology at the
+last moment. Especially do not break your word on account of bad weather. You
+may be certain that many others will, and the inciter will be mortified by the
+paucity of her guests. A cloak and a carriage will secure you from all
+inconvenience, and you will be conferring a real benefit.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br />
+THE ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Women, particularly women a little on the decline, are those who make the
+reputation of a young man. When the lustre of their distinction begins to fade,
+a slight feeling of less wonted leisure, perhaps a little spite, makes them
+observe attentively those who surround them. Eager to gain new admirers, they
+encourage the first steps of a <i>debutant</i> in the career of society, and
+exert themselves to fit him to do honour to their patronage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A young man, therefore, in entering the world, cannot be too attentive to
+conciliate the goodwill of women. Their approbation and support will serve him
+instead of a thousand good qualities. Their judgment dispenses with fortune,
+talent, and even intelligence. &ldquo;Les hommes font les lois: les femmes font
+les reputations.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The desire of pleasing is, of course, the basis of social connexion. Persons
+who enter society with the intention of producing an effect, and of being
+distinguished, however clever they may be, are never agreeable. They are always
+tiresome, and often ridiculous. Persons, who enter life with such pretensions,
+have no opportunity for improving themselves and profiting by experience. They
+are not in a proper state to <i>observe</i>: indeed, they look only for the
+effect which they produce, and with that they are not often gratified. They
+thrust themselves into all conversations, indulge in continual anecdotes, which
+are varied only by dull disquisitions, listen to others with impatience and
+heedlessness, and are angry that they seem to be attending to themselves. Such
+men go through scenes of pleasure, enjoying nothing. They are equally
+disagreeable to themselves and others. Young men should, therefore, content
+themselves with being natural. Let them present themselves with a modest
+assurance: let them observe, hear, and examine, and before long they will rival
+their models.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The conversation of those women who are not the most lavishly supplied with
+personal beauty, will be of the most advantage to the young aspirant. Such
+persons have cultivated their manners and conversation more than those who can
+rely upon their natural endowments. The absence of pride and pretension has
+improved their good nature and their affability. They are not too much occupied
+in contemplating their own charms, to be disposed to indulge in gentle
+criticism on others. One acquires from them an elegance in one&rsquo;s manners
+as well as one&rsquo;s expressions. Their kindness pardons every error, and to
+instruct or reprove, their acts are so delicate that the lesson which they
+give, always without offending, is sure to be profitable, though it may be
+often unperceived.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Women observe all the delicacies of propriety in manners, and all the shades of
+impropriety, much better than men; not only because they attend to them earlier
+and longer, but because their perceptions are more refined than those of the
+other sex, who are habitually employed about greater things. Women divine,
+rather than arrive at, proper conclusions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The whims and caprices of women in society should of course be tolerated by
+men, who themselves require toleration for greater inconveniences. But this
+must not be carried too far. There are certain limits to empire which, if they
+themselves forget, should be pointed out to them with delicacy and politeness.
+You should be the slave of women, but not of all their fancies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Compliment is the language of intercourse from men to women. But be careful to
+avoid elaborate and common-place forms of gallant speech. Do not strive to make
+those long eulogies on a woman, which have the regularity and nice dependency
+of a proposition in Euclid, and might be fittingly concluded by Q. E. D. Do not
+be always undervaluing her rival in a woman&rsquo;s presence, nor mistaking a
+woman&rsquo;s daughter for her sister. These antiquated and exploded attempts
+denote a person who has learned the world more from books than men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The quality which a young man should most affect in intercourse with gentlemen,
+is a decent modesty: but he must avoid all bashfulness or timidity. His flights
+must not go too far; but, so far as they go, let them be marked by perfect
+assurance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Among persons who are much your seniors behave with the utmost respectful
+deference. As they find themselves sliding out of importance they may be easily
+conciliated by a little respect.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By far the most important thing to be attended to, is ease of manner. Grace may
+be added afterwards, or be omitted altogether: it is of much less moment than
+is commonly believed. Perfect propriety and entire ease are sufficient
+qualifications for standing in society, and abundant prerequisites for
+distinction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is the most delicate shade of difference between civility and
+intrusiveness, familiarity and common-place, pleasantry and sharpness, the
+natural and the rude, gaiety and carelessness; hence the inconveniences of
+society, and the errors of its members. To define well in conduct these
+distinctions, is the great art of a man of the world. It is easy to know what
+to do; the difficulty is to know what to avoid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Long usage&mdash;a sort of moral magnetism, a tact acquired by frequent and
+long associating with others&mdash;alone give those qualities which keep one
+always from error, and entitle him to the name of a thorough gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A young man upon first entering into society should select those persons who
+are most celebrated for the propriety and elegance of their manners. He should
+frequent their company and imitate their conduct. There is a disposition
+inherent, in all, which has been noticed by Horace and by Dr. Johnson, to
+imitate faults, because they are more readily observed and more easily
+followed. There are, also, many foibles of manner and many refinements of
+affectation, which sit agreeably upon one man, which if adopted by another
+would become unpleasant. There are even some excellences of deportment which
+would not suit another whose character is different. For successful imitation
+in anything, good sense is indispensable. It is requisite correctly to
+appreciate the natural differences between your model and yourself, and to
+introduce such modifications in the copy as may be consistent with it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Let not any man imagine, that he shall easily acquire these qualities which
+will constitute him a gentleman. It is necessary not only to exert the highest
+degree of art, but to attain also that higher accomplishment of concealing art.
+The serene and elevated dignity which mark that character, are the result of
+untiring and arduous effort. After the sculpture has attained the shape of
+propriety, it remains to smooth off all the marks of the chisel. &ldquo;A
+gentleman,&rdquo; says a celebrated French author, &ldquo;is one who has
+reflected deeply upon all the obligations which belong to his station, and who
+has applied himself ardently to fulfil them with grace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Polite without importunity, gallant without being offensive, attentive to the
+comfort of all; employing a well-regulated kindness, witty at the proper times,
+discreet, indulgent, generous, he exercises, in his sphere, a high degree of
+moral authority; he it is, and he alone, that one should imitate.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br />
+LETTERS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Always remember that the terms of compliment at the close of a
+letter&mdash;&ldquo;I have the honour to be your very obedient servant,&rdquo;
+etc. are merely forms&mdash;&ldquo;signifying nothing.&rdquo; Do not therefore
+avoid them on account of pride, or a dislike to the person addressed. Do not
+presume, as some do, to found expectations of favour or promotion from great
+men who profess themselves your obliged servant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In writing a letter of business it is extremely vulgar to use satin or glazed
+gold-edged paper. Always employ, on such occasions, plain American paper. Place
+the date at the top of the page, and if you please, the name of the person at
+the top also, just above the &lsquo;Sir;&rsquo; though this last is
+indifferent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In letters to gentlemen always place the date at the end of the letter, below
+his name. Use the best paper, but not figured, and never fail to enclose it in
+an envelope. Attention to these matters is indispensable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To a person whom you do not know well, say Sir, not &lsquo;Dear Sir.&rsquo; It
+formerly was usual in writing to a distinguished man to employ the form
+&lsquo;Respected Sir,&rsquo; or something of the kind. This is now out of
+fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There are a great many forms observed by the French in their letters, which are
+necessary to be known before addressing one of that nation. You will find them
+in their books upon such subjects, or learn them from your French master. One
+custom of theirs is worthy of adoption among us: to proportion the distance
+between the &lsquo;Sir&rsquo; and the first line of the letter, to the rank of
+the person to whom you write. Among the French to neglect attending to this
+would give mortal offence. It obtains also in other European nations. When the
+Duke of Buckingham was at the court of Spain, some letters passed between the
+Spanish minister Olivez and himself,&mdash;the two proudest men on earth. The
+Spaniard wrote a letter to the Englishman, and put the &lsquo;Monsieur&rsquo;
+on a line with the beginning of his letter. The other, in his reply, placed the
+&lsquo;Monsieur&rsquo; a little below it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A note of invitation or reply is always to be enclosed in an envelope.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Wafers are now entirely exploded. A letter of business is sealed with red wax,
+and marked with some common stamp. Letters to gentlemen demand red wax sealed
+with your arms. In notes to ladies employ coloured wax, but not perfumed.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br />
+VISITS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Of visits there are various sorts; visits of congratulation, visits of
+condolence, visits of ceremony, visits of friendship. To each belong different
+customs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A visit and an insult must be always returned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Visits of ceremony should be very short. Go at some time when business demands
+the employment of every moment. In visits of friendship adopt a different
+course.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you call to see an acquaintance at lodgings, and cannot find any one to
+announce you, you knock very lightly at the door, and wait some time before
+entering. If you are in too great a hurry, you might find the person drawing
+off a night-cap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Respectable visitors should be received and treated with the utmost courtesy.
+But if a tiresome fellow, after wearying all his friends, becomes weary of
+himself, and arrives to bestow his tediousness upon you, pull out your watch
+with restlessness, talk about your great occupations and the value of time.
+Politeness is one thing; to be made a convenience of is another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The style of your conversation should always be in keeping with the character
+of the visit. You must not talk about literature in a visit of condolence, nor
+about political economy in a visit of ceremony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When a lady visits you, upon her retiring, you offer her your arm, and conduct
+her to her carriage. If you are visiting at the same time with another lady,
+you should take leave at the same time, and hand her into her carriage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a hall, a dinner, or a concert, you visit during the week.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pay the first visit to a friend just returned from a voyage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Annual visits are paid to persons with whom you have a cool acquaintance, They
+visit you in the autumn, you return a card in the spring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In paying a visit under ordinary circumstances, you leave a single card. If
+there be residing in the family, a married daughter, an unmarried sister, a
+transient guest, or any person in a distinct situation from the mistress of the
+house, you leave two cards, one for each party. If you are acquainted with only
+one member of a family, as the husband, or the wife, and you wish to indicate
+that your visit is to both, you leave two cards. Ladies have a fashion of
+pinching down one corner of a card to denote that the visit is to only one of
+two parties in a house, and two corners, or one side of the card, when the
+visit is to both; but this is a transient mode, and of dubious respectability.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If, in paying a morning visit, you are not recognized when you enter, mention
+your name immediately. If you call to visit one member, and you find others
+only in the parlour, introduce yourself to them. Much awkwardness may occur
+through defect of attention to this point.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When a gentleman is about to be married, he sends cards, a day or two before
+the event, to all whom he is in the habit of visiting. These visits are never
+paid in person, but the cards sent by a servant, at any hour in the morning; or
+the gentleman goes in a carriage, and sends them in. After marriage, some day
+is appointed and made known to all, as the day on which he receives company.
+His friends then all call upon him. Would that this also were performed by
+cards!
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br />
+APPOINTMENTS AND PUNCTUALITY.</h2>
+
+<p>
+When you make an appointment, always be exact in observing it. In some places,
+and on some occasions, a quarter of an hour&rsquo;s <i>grace</i> is given. This
+depends on custom, and it is always better not to avail yourself of it. In
+Philadelphia it is necessary to be punctual to a second, for there everybody
+breathes by the State-house clock If you make an appointment to meet anywhere,
+your body must be in a right line with the frame of the door at the instant the
+first stroke of the great clock sounds. If you are a moment later, your
+character is gone. It is useless to plead the evidence of your watch, or
+detention by a friend. You read your condemnation in the action of the old
+fellows who, with polite regard to your feelings, simultaneously pull out their
+vast chronometers, as you enter. The tardy man is worse off than the murderer.
+<i>He</i> may be pardoned by one person, (the Governor); the unpunctual is
+pardoned by none. <i>Haud inexpectus loquor.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you make an appointment with another at your own house, you should be
+invisible to the rest of the world, and consecrate your time solely to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you make an appointment with a lady, especially if it be upon a promenade,
+or other public place, you must be there a little before the time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you accept an appointment at the house of a public officer, or a man of
+business, be very punctual, transact the affair with despatch, and retire the
+moment it is finished.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br />
+DINNER.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The hour of dinner has been said, by Dr. Johnson, to be the most important hour
+in civilized life. The etiquette of the dinner-table has a prominence
+commensurate with the dignity of the ceremony. Like the historian of Peter
+Bell, we commence at the commencement, and thence proceed to the moment when
+you take leave officially, or vanish unseen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In order to dine, the first requisite is&mdash;to be invited. The length of
+time which the invitation precedes the dinner is always proportioned to the
+grandeur of the occasion, and varies from two days to two weeks. To an
+invitation received less than two days in advance, you will lose little by
+replying in the negative, for as it was probably sent as soon as the
+preparations of the host commenced, you may be sure that there will be little
+on the table fit to eat. Those abominations, y&rsquo;clept &ldquo;plain family
+dinners,&rdquo; eschew like the plague.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You reply to a note of invitation immediately, and in the most direct and
+unequivocal terms. If you accept, you arrive at the house rigorously at the
+hour specified. It is equally inconvenient to be too late and to be too early.
+If you fall into the latter error, you find every thing in disorder; the master
+of the house is in his dressing-room, changing his waistcoat; the lady is still
+in the pantry; the fire not yet lighted in the parlour. If by accident or
+thoughtlessness you arrive too soon, you may pretend that you called to inquire
+the exact hour at which they dine, having mislaid the note, and then retire to
+walk for an appetite. If you are too late, the evil is still greater, and
+indeed almost without a remedy. Your delay spoils the dinner and destroys the
+appetite and temper of the guests; and you yourself are so much embarrassed at
+the inconvenience you have occasioned, that you commit a thousand errors at
+table. If you do not reach the house until dinner is served, you had better
+retire to a restaurateurs, and thence send an apology, and not interrupt the
+harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptances.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the guests have all entered, and been presented to one another, if any
+delay occurs, the conversation should be of the lightest and least exciting
+kind; mere common-places about the weather and late arrivals. You should not
+amuse the company by animated relations of one person who has just cut his
+throat from ear to ear, or of another who, the evening before, was choked by a
+tough beef-steak and was buried that morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When dinner is announced, the inviter rises and requests all to walk to the
+dining-room. He then leads the way, that they may not be at a loss to know
+whither they should proceed. Each gentleman offers his arm to a lady, and they
+follow in solemn order.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great distinction now becomes evident between the host and the guests,
+which distinction it is the chief effort of good breeding to remove. To perform
+faultlessly the honours of the table, is one of the most difficult things in
+society: it might indeed be asserted without much fear of contradiction, that
+no man has as yet ever reached exact propriety in his office as host, has hit
+the mean between exerting himself too much and too little. His great business
+is to put every one entirely at his ease, to gratify all his desires, and make
+him, in a word, absolutely contented with men and things. To accomplish this,
+he must have the genius of tact to perceive, and the genius of finesse to
+execute; ease and frankness of manner; a knowledge of the world that nothing
+can surprise; a calmness of temper that nothing can disturb, and a kindness of
+disposition that can never be exhausted. When he receives others, he must be
+content to forget himself; he must relinquish all desire to shine, and even all
+attempts to please his guests by conversation, and rather, do all in his power
+to let them please one another. He behaves to them without agitation, without
+affectation; he pays attention without an air of protection; he encourages the
+timid, draws out the silent, and directs conversation without Sustaining it
+himself. He who does not do all this, is wanting in his duty as host; he who
+does, is more than mortal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When all are seated, the gentleman at the head of the table sends soup to every
+one, from the pile of plates which stand at his right hand. He helps the person
+at his right hand first, and at his left next, and so through the whole.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There are an immensity of petty usages at the dinner table, such as those
+mentioned in the story of the Abbé Delille and the Abbé Cosson in the
+Introduction to this volume, which it would be trifling and tedious to
+enumerate hers, and which will be learned by an observing man after assisting
+at two or three dinners.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You should never ask a gentleman or lady at the table to help you to any thing,
+but always apply to the servants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Your first duty at the table is to attend to the wants of the lady who sits
+next to you, the second, to attend to your own. In performing the first, you
+should take care that the lady has all that she wishes, yet without appearing
+to direct your attention too much to her plate, for nothing is more ill-bred
+than to watch a person eating. If the lady be something of a <i>gourmande</i>,
+and in ever-zealous pursuit of the aroma of the wing of a pigeon, should raise
+an unmanageable portion to her mouth, you should cease all conversation with
+her, and look steadfastly into the opposite part of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In France, a dish, after having been placed upon the table for approval, is
+removed by the servants, and carved at a sideboard, and after. wards handed to
+each in succession. This is extremely convenient, and worthy of acceptation in
+this country. But unfortunately it does not as yet prevail here. Carving
+therefore becomes an indispensable branch of a gentleman&rsquo;s education. You
+should no more think of going to a dinner without a knowledge of this art, than
+you should think of going without your shoes. The gentleman of the house
+selects the various dishes in the order in which they should be cut, and
+invites some particular one to perform the office. It is excessively awkward to
+be obliged to decline, yet it is a thing too often occurring in,his country.
+When you carve, you should never rise from your seat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some persons, in helping their guests, or recommending dishes to their taste,
+preface every such action with an eulogy on its merits, and draw every bottle
+of wine with an account of its virtues. Others, running into the contrary
+extreme, regret or fear that each dish is not exactly as it should be; that the
+cook, etc., etc. Both of these habits are grievous errors. You should leave it
+to your guests alone to approve, or suffer one of your intimate friends who is
+present, to vaunt your wine. When you draw a bottle, merely state its age and
+brand, and of what particular vintage it is.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Do not insist upon your guests partaking of particular dishes, never ask
+persons more than once, and never put anything by force upon their plates. It
+is extremely ill-bred, though extremely common, to press one to eat of
+anything. You should do all that you can to make your guests feel themselves at
+home, which they never can do while you are so constantly forcing upon their
+minds the recollection of the difference between yourself and them. You should
+never send away your own plate until all your guests have finished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before the cloth is removed you do not drink wine unless with another. If you
+are asked to take wine it is uncivil to refuse. When you drink with another,
+you catch the person&rsquo;s eye and bow with politeness. It is not necessary
+to say anything, but smile with an air of great kindness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some one who sits near the lady of the house, should, immediately upon the
+removal of the soup, request the honor of drinking wine with her, which
+movement is the signal for all the others. If this is not done, the master of
+the house should select some lady. <i>He</i> never asks gentlemen, but they ask
+him; this is a refined custom, attended to in the best company.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have drunk with every one at the table, and wish more wine, you must
+wait till the cloth is removed. The decanter is then sent round from the head
+of the table, each person fills his glass, and all the company drinks the
+Health of all the company. It is enough if you bow to the master and mistress
+of the house, and to your opposite neighbour. After this the ladies retire.
+Some one rises to open the door for them, and they go into the parlour, the
+gentlemen remaining to drink more wine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After the ladies have retired, the service of the decanters is done. The host
+draws the bottles which have been standing in a wine cooler since the
+commencement of the dinner. The bottle goes down the left side and up the
+right, and the same bottle never passes twice. If you do not drink, always pass
+the bottle to your neighbour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At dinner never call for ale or porter; it is coarse, and injures the taste for
+wine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was formerly the custom to drink <i>porter</i> with cheese. One of the few
+real improvements introduced by the &ldquo;Napoleon of the realms of
+fashion&rdquo; was to banish this tavern liquor and substitute <i>port.</i> The
+dictum of Brummell was thus enunciated: &ldquo;A gentleman never <i>malts</i>,
+he <i>ports.</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A gentleman should always express his preference for some one sort of wine over
+others; because, as there is always a natural preference for one kind, if you
+say that you are indifferent, you show that you are not accustomed to drink
+wines. Your preference should not of course be guided by your real disposition;
+if you are afflicted by nature with a partiality for port, you should never
+think of indulging it except in your closet with your chamber-door locked. The
+only index of choice is fashion;&mdash;either permanent fashion (if the phrase
+may be used), or some temporary fashion created by the custom of any individual
+who happens to rule for a season in society. Port was drunk by our ancestors,
+but George the Fourth, upon his accession to the regency, announced his royal
+preference for sherry. It has since been fashionable to like sherry. This is
+what we call a <i>permanent</i> fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Champagne wine is drunk after the removal of the first cloth; that is to say,
+between the meats and the dessert. One servant goes round and places before
+each guest a proper-shaped glass; another follows and fills them, and they are
+immediately drunk. Sometimes this is done twice in succession. The bottle does
+not again make its appearance, and it would excite a stare to ask at a later
+period for a glass of champagne wine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you should happen to be blessed with those rely nuisances, children, and
+should be entertaining company, never allow them to be brought in after dinner,
+unless they are particularly asked for, and even then it is better to say they
+are at school. Some persons, with the intention of paying their court to the
+father, express great desire to see the sons; but they should have some mercy
+upon the rest of the party, particularly as they know that they themselves
+would be the most disturbed of all, if their urgent entreaty was granted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never at any time, whether at a formal or a familiar dinner party, commit the
+impropriety of talking to a servant: nor ever address any remark about one of
+them to one of the party. Nothing can be more ill-bred. You merely ask for what
+you want in a grave and civil tone, and wait with patience till your order is
+obeyed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is a piece of refined coarseness to employ the fingers instead of the fork
+to effect certain operations at the dinner table, and on some other similar
+occasions. To know how and when to follow the fashion of Eden, and when that of
+more civilized life, is one of the many points which distinguish a gentleman
+from one not a gentleman; or rather, in this case, which shows the difference
+between a man of the world, and one who has not &ldquo;the tune of the
+time.&rdquo;* Cardinal Richelieu detected an adventurer who passed himself off
+for a nobleman, by his helping himself to olives with a fork. He might have
+applied the test to a vast many other things. Yet, on the other hand, a
+gentleman would lose his reputation, if he were to take up a piece of sugar
+with his fingers and not with the sugar-tongs.
+</p>
+
+<p class="footnote">
+* Shakspeare
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is of course needless to say that your own knife should never be brought
+near to the butter, or salt, or to a dish of any kind. If, however, a gentleman
+should send his plate for anything near you, and a knife cannot be obtained
+immediately, you may skillfully avoid all censure by using <i>his</i> knife to
+procure it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you send your plate for anything, you leave your knife and fork upon it,
+crossed. When you have done, you lay both in parallel lines on one side. A
+render who occupies himself about greater matters, may smile at this precept.
+It may, indeed, be very absurd, yet such is the tyranny of custom, that if you
+were to cross your knife and fork when you have finished, the most reasonable
+and strong-minded man at the table could not help setting you down, in his own
+mind, as a low-bred person. <i>Magis sequor quam probo.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The chief matter of consideration at the dinner table, as indeed everywhere
+else in the life of a gentleman, is to be perfectly composed and at his ease.
+He speaks deliberately, he performs the most important act of the day as if he
+were performing the most ordinary. Yet there is no appearance of trifling or
+want of gravity in his manner; he maintains the dignity which is becoming on so
+vital an occasion. He performs all the ceremonies, yet in the style of one who
+performs no <i>ceremony</i> at all. He goes through all the complicated duties
+of the scene, as if he were &ldquo;to the manner born.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some persons, who cannot draw the nice distinction between too much and too
+little, desiring to be particularly respectable, make a point of appearing
+unconcerned and quite indifferent to enjoyment at dinner. Such conduct not only
+exhibits a want of sense and a profane levity, but is in the highest degree
+rude to your obliging host. He has taken a great deal of trouble to give you
+pleasure, and it is your business to be, or at least to appear, pleased. It is
+one thing, indeed, to stare and wonder, and to ask for all the delicacies on
+the table in the style of a person who had lived all his life behind a counter,
+but it is quite another to throw into your manner the spirit and gratified air
+of a man who is indeed not unused to such matters, but who yet esteems them at
+their fall value.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the Duke of Wellington was at Paris, as commander of the allied armies, he
+was invited to dine with Cambaceres, one of the most distinguished statesmen
+and <i>gourmands</i> of the time of Napoleon. In the course of the dinner, his
+host having helped him to some particularly <i>recherché</i> dish, expressed a
+hope that he found it agreeable. &ldquo;Very good,&rdquo; said the hero of
+Waterloo, who was probably speculating upon what he would have done if Blucher
+had not come up: &ldquo;Very good; but I really do not care what I eat.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; exclaimed Cambaceres,&mdash;as he started back and
+dropped his fork, quite &ldquo;frighted from his
+propriety,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t care what you eat! What <i>did</i>
+you come here for, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After the wine is finished, you retire to the drawing-room, where the ladies
+are assembled; the master of the house rising first from the table, but going
+out of the room last. If you wish to go before this, you must vanish unseen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We conclude this chapter by a word of important counsel to the
+host:&mdash;Never make an apology.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br />
+TRAVELLING.</h2>
+
+<p>
+It is an extremely difficult affair to travel in a coach, with perfect
+propriety. Ten to one the person next to you is an English nobleman
+<i>incognito</i>; and a hundred to one, the man opposite to you is a brute or a
+knave. To behave so that you may not be uncivil to the one, nor a dupe to the
+other, is an art of some niceness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the seats are assigned to passengers in the order in which they are booked,
+you should send to have your place taken a day or two before the journey, so
+that you may be certain of a back seat. It is also advisable to arrive at the
+place of departure early, so that you assume your place without dispute.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When women appear at the door of the coach to obtain admittance, it is a matter
+of some question to know exactly what conduct it is necessary to pursue. If the
+women are servants, or persons in a low rank of life, I do not see upon what
+ground of politeness or decency you are called upon to yield your seat.
+<i>Etiquette</i>, and the deference due to ladies have, of course, no operation
+in the case of such persons. Chivalry&mdash;(and the gentleman is the
+legitimate descendant of the knight of old)&mdash;was ever a devotion to rank
+rather than to sex. Don Quixotte, or Sir Piercy Shafestone would not willingly
+have given place to servant girls. And upon considerations of humanity and
+regard to weakness, the case is no stronger. Such people have nerves
+considerably more robust than you have, and are quite as capable of riding
+backwards, or the top, as yourself. The only reason for <i>politeness</i> in
+the case is, that perhaps the other passengers are of the same standing with
+the women, and might eject you from the window if you refuse to give place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If <i>ladies</i> enter&mdash;and a gentleman distinguishes them in an
+instant&mdash;the case is altered. The sooner you move the better is it for
+yourself, since the rest will in the end have to concede, and you will give
+yourself a reputation among the party and secure a better seat, by rising at
+once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The principle that guides you in society is politeness; that which guides you
+in a coach is good humour. You lay aside all attention to form, and all strife
+after effect, and take instead, kindness of disposition and a willingness to
+please. You pay a constant regard to the comfort of your. fellow-prisoners.
+You take care not to lean upon the shoulder of your neighbour when you sleep.
+You are attentive not to make the stage wait for you at the stopping-places.
+When the ladies get out, you offer them your arm, and you do the same when the
+coachman is driving rapidly over a rough place. You should make all the
+accommodations to others, which you can do consistently with your own
+convenience; for, after all, the individuals are each like little nations; and
+as, in the one case, the first duty is to your country, so in the other, the
+first duty is to yourself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some surly creatures, upon entering a coach, wrap about their persons a great
+coat of cloth, and about their minds a mantle of silence, which are not thrown
+off during the whole journey. This is doing more harm to themselves than to
+others. You should make a point of conversing with an appearance of entire
+freedom, though with real reserve, with all those who are so disposed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One purpose and pleasure of travelling is to gain information, and to observe
+the various characters of persons. You will be asked by others about the road
+you passed over, and it will be awkward if you can give no account of it.
+Converse, therefore, with all. Relate amusing stories, chiefly of other
+countries, and even of other times, so as not to offend any one. If engaged in
+discussion&mdash;and a coach is almost the only place where discussion should
+<i>not</i> be avoided&mdash;state facts and arguments rather than opinions.
+Never answer impudent questions-and never ask them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the meals which occur during a journey, you see beautiful exemplification of
+the <i>dictum</i> of Hobbes, &ldquo;that war is the natural state of
+man.&rdquo; The entire scene is one of unintermitted war of every person with
+every other person, with the viands, and with good manners. You open your mouth
+only to admit edibles and to bellow to the waiters. Your sole object is
+yourself. You drink wine without asking your neighbour to join you; and if he
+should be so silly as to ask you to hand him some specified dish, you blandly
+comply; but in the passage to him, you transfer the whole of its contents to
+your own plate. There is no halving in these matters. Rapacity, roaring, and
+rapidity are the three requisites for dining during a journey. When you have
+resumed your seat in the coach, you are as bland as a morning in spring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never assume any unreal importance in a stage-coach, founded on the ignorance
+of your fellows, and their inability to detect it. It is excessively absurd,
+and can only gratify a momentary and foolish vanity; for, whenever you might
+make use of your importance, you would probably be at once discovered. There is
+an admirable paper upon this point in one of Johnson&rsquo;s Adventurers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The friendship which has subsisted between travellers terminates with the
+journey. When you get out, a word, a bow, and the most unpleasant act of life
+is finished and forgotten.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br />
+BALLS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Invitations to a ball should be issued at least ten days in advance, in order
+to give an opportunity to the men to clear away engagements; and to women, time
+to prepare the artillery of their toilet. Cards of invitation should be
+sent&mdash;not notes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Upon the entrance of ladies, or persons entitled to deference, the master of
+the house precedes them across the room: he addresses compliments to them, and
+will lose his life to procure them seats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While dancing with a lady whom you have never seen before, you should not talk
+to her much.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The master of the ceremonies must take care that every lady dances, and press
+into service for that purpose these young gentlemen who are hanging round the
+room like fossils. If desired by him to dance with a particular lady you should
+refuse on no account.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you have no ear, that is, a false one, never dance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To usurp the seat of a person who is dancing is the height of incivility.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never go to a public ball.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br />
+FUNERALS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+When any member of a family is dead, it is customary to send intelligence of
+the misfortune to all who have been connected with the deceased in relations of
+business or friendship. The letters which are sent contain a special invitation
+to assist at the funeral.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An invitation of this sort should never be refused, though, of course, you do
+not send a reply, for no other reason that I know of, excepting the
+impossibility of framing any formula of acceptance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You render yourself at the house an hour or two after the time specified. If
+you were to sit long in the mournful circle you might be rendered unfit for
+doing any thing for a week.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Your dress is black, and during the time of waiting you compose your visage
+into a &ldquo;tristful &rsquo;haviour,&rdquo; and lean in silent solemnity upon
+the top of your cane, thinking about&mdash; last night&rsquo;s party. This is a
+necessary hypocrisy, and assists marvellously the sadness of the ceremony. You
+walk in a procession with the others, your carriage following in the street.
+The first places are yielded to the relations of the deceased.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The coffins of persons of distinction are carried in the hands of bearers, who
+walk with their hats off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You walk with another, in seemly order, and converse in a low tone; first upon
+the property of the defunct, and next upon the politics of the day. You walk
+with the others into the church, where service is said over the body. It is
+optional to go to the grave or not. When you go away, you enter your carriage
+and return to your business or your pleasures.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A funeral in the morning, a ball in the evening,&mdash;&ldquo;so runs the world
+away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br />
+SERVANTS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Servants are a necessary evil. He who shall contrive to obviate their
+necessity, or remove their inconveniences, will render to human comfort a
+greater benefit than has yet been conferred by all the useful-knowledge
+societies of the age. They are domestic spies, who continually embarrass the
+intercourse of the members of a family, or possess themselves of private
+information that renders their presence hateful, and their absence dangerous.
+It is a rare thing to see persons who are not controlled by their servants.
+Theirs, too, is not the only kitchen cabinet which begins by serving and ends
+by ruling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If we judge from the frequency and inconvenience of an opposite course, we
+should say that the most important precept to be observed is, never to be
+afraid of your servants. We have known many ladies who, without any reason in
+the world, lived in a state of perfect subjugation to their servants, who were
+afraid to give a direction, and who submitted to disobedience and insult, where
+no danger could be apprehended from discharging them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If a servant offends you by any trifling or occasional omission of duty,
+reprove the fault with mild severity; if the error be repeated often, and be of
+a gross description, never hesitate, but discharge the servant instantly,
+without any altercation of language. You cannot easily find another who will
+serve you worse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for those precautions which are ordinarily taken, to secure the procurence
+of good servants, they are, without exception, utterly useless. The author of
+the Rambler has remarked, that a written <i>character</i> of a servant is worth
+about as much as a discharge from the Old Bailey. I never, but once, took any
+trouble to inquire what reputation a servant had held in former situations. On
+that occasion, I heard that I had engaged the very Shakespeare of
+menials,&mdash; Aristides was not more honest,&mdash;Zeno more
+truth-telling,&mdash;nor Abdiel more faithful. This fellow, after insulting me
+daily for a week, disappeared with my watch and three pair of boots.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Those offices which profess to recommend good domestics, are
+&ldquo;bosh,&mdash;nothing.&rdquo; In nine cases out of ten, the keepers are in
+league with the servants; and in the tenth, ignorance, dishonesty, or
+carelessness will prevent any benefit resulting from,their
+&ldquo;intelligence.&rdquo; All that you can do is, to take the most decent
+creature who applies; trust in Providence, and lock every thing up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never speak harshly, or superciliously, or hastily to a servant. There are many
+little actions which distinguish, to the eye of the most careless observer, a
+gentleman from one not a gentleman; but there is none more striking than the
+manner of addressing a servant. Issue your commands with gravity and
+gentleness, and in a reserved manner. Let your voice be composed, but avoid a
+tone of familiarity or sympathy with them. It is better in addressing them to
+use a higher key of voice, and not to suffer it to fall at the end of a
+sentence. The best bred man whom we ever had the pleasure of meeting, always
+employed, in addressing servants, such forms of speech as
+these&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll thank you for so and so,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Such
+a thing, if you please,&rdquo;&mdash;with a gentle tone, but very elevated key.
+The perfection of manner, in this particular, is, to indicate by your language,
+that the performance is a favour, and by your tone that it is a matter of
+course.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While, however, you practise the utmost mildness and forbearance in your
+language, avoid the dangerous and common error of exercising too great humanity
+in action. No servant, from the time of the first Gibeonite downwards, has ever
+had too much labour imposed upon him; while thousands have been ruined by the
+mistaken kindness of their masters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Servants should always be allowed, and indeed directed, to go to church on
+Sunday afternoon. For this purpose, dinner is served earlier on that day than
+usual. If it can be accomplished, the servants should be induced to attend the
+same church as the family with whom they live; because there may be reason to
+fear that if they profess to go elsewhere, they may not go to church at all;
+and the habit of wandering about the streets with idlers, will speedily ruin
+the best servant that ever stood behind a chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Servants should be directed to announce visitors. This is always done abroad,
+and is a convenient custom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never allow a female servant to enter a parlour. If all the male domestics are
+gone out, it is better that there should be no attendance at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some ladies are in the habit of amusing their friends with accounts of the
+difficulty of getting good servants, etc. This denotes decided ill breeding.
+Such subjects should never be made topics of conversation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If a servant offends you by any grossness of conduct, never rebuke the offence
+upon the spot, nor indeed notice it at all at the time; for you cannot do it
+without anger, and without giving rise to a <i>scene.</i> Prince Puckler Muskaw
+was, very properly, turned out of the Travellers&rsquo; Club for throwing a
+fork at one of the waiters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the house of another, or when there is any company present in your own,
+never converse with the servants. This most vulgar, but not uncommon, habit, is
+judiciously censured in that best of novels,&mdash;the Zeluco of Dr. Moore.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br />
+FASHION.</h2>
+
+<p>
+Fashion is a tyranny founded only on assumption. The principle upon which its
+influence rests, is one deeply based in the human heart, and one which has long
+been observed and long practised upon in every department of life. In the
+literary, the religious, and the political world, it has been an assured and
+very profitable conclusion, that the public,
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;Like women, born to be controlled,<br />
+Stoops to the forward and the bold.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Qui sibi fidit, dux regit examen,&rdquo; is a maxim of universal truth.
+Pococurante, in Candide, was admired for despising Homer and Michel Angelo; he
+would have gained little distinction by praising them. The judicious
+application of this rule to society, is the origin of fashion. In despair of
+attaining greatness of quality, it founds its distinction only on peculiarity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We have spoken elsewhere of those complex and very rare accomplishments, whose
+union is requisite to constitute a gentleman. We know of but one quality which
+is demanded for a man of fashion,&mdash;impudence. An impudence
+(self-confidence &ldquo;the wise it call&rdquo;) as impenetrable as the gates
+of Pandemonium&mdash;a coolness and imperturbability of self-admiration, which
+the boaster in Spencer might envy&mdash;a contempt of every decency, as such,
+and an utter imperviousness to ridicule,&mdash;these are the amiable and
+dignified qualities which serve to rear an empire over the weakness and
+cowardice of men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To define the character of that which is changing even while we survey it, is a
+task of no small difficulty. We imagine that there is only one means by which
+it may be always described, viz., that it consists in an entire avoidance of
+all that is natural and rational. Its essence is affectation; effeminacy takes
+the place of manliness; drawling stupidity, of wit; stiffness and hauteur, of
+ease and civility; and self-illustration, of a decent and respectful regard to
+others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A man of fashion must never allow himself to be pleased. Nothing is more
+decidedly <i>de mauvais ton</i> than any expression of delight. He must never
+laugh, nor, unless his penetration is very great, must he even smile; for he
+might by ignorance smile at the wrong place or time. All real emotion is to be
+avoided; all sympathy with the great or the beautiful is to be shunned; yet the
+liveliest feeling may be exhibited upon the death of a poodle-dog.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the house of an acquaintance, he must never praise, nor even look, at the
+pictures, the carpets, the curtains, or the ottomans, because if he did, it
+might be supposed that he was not accustomed to such things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+About two years ago, it began to be considered improper to pay compliments to
+women, because if they are not paid gracefully they are awkward, and to pay
+them gracefully is difficult. At the present time it is considered dangerous to
+a man&rsquo;s pretensions to fashion, in England, to speak to women at all.
+Women are voted bores, and are to be treated with refined rudeness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There is no possible system of manners that will serve to exhibit at once the
+uncivility and the high refinement which should characterize the man of
+fashion. He must therefore have no manners at all. He must behave with tame and
+passive insolence, never breaking into active effrontery excepting towards
+unprotected women and clergymen. Persons of no importance he does not see, and
+is not conscious of their existence; those who have the same standing, he
+treats with easy scorn, and he acknowledges the distinction of superiors only
+by patronizing and protecting them. A man of fashion does not despise wealth;
+he cannot but think <i>that</i> valuable which procures to others the honour of
+paying for his suppers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fashion is so completely distinguished from good breeding, that it is even
+opposed to it. It is in fact a system of refined vulgarity. What, for example
+can be more vulgar than incessantly <i>talking</i> about forms and customs?
+About silver forks and French soup? A gentleman follows these conventional
+habits; but he follows them as matters of course. He looks upon them as the
+ordinary and essential customs of refined society. French forks are to him
+things as indispensable as a table-cloth; and he thinks it as unnecessary to
+insist upon the one as upon the other. If he sees a person who eats with his
+knife, he concludes that that person is ignorant of the usages of the world,
+but he does not shriek and faint away like a Bond-street dandy. If he dines at
+a table where there are no silver forks, he eats his dinner in perfect
+propriety with steel, and exhibits, neither by manner nor by speech, that he
+perceives any error. To be sure, he forms his own opinion about the rank of his
+entertainer, but he leaves it to such new-made gentry as Mr. Theodore Hook, in
+his vulgar fashionable novels, to harangue about such delinquencies. The
+vulgarity of insisting upon these matters is scarcely less offensive than the
+vulgarity of neglecting them. Lady Frances Pelham is but one remove better than
+a Brancton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A man of fashion never goes to the theatre; he is waiting for the opera.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He, of course, goes out of town in the summer; or, if he cannot afford to do
+so, he merely closes his window-shutters, and appears to be gone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fashion makes all great things little, and all little things great.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is commonly said, that it requires more wit to perform the part of the fool
+in a farce than that of the master. Without intending any offence to the fool
+by the comparison, we may remark, that qualities of an elevated character are
+required for the support of the <i>role</i> of a man of fashion in the solemn
+farce of life. He must have invention, to vary his absurdities when they cease
+to be striking; he must have wit enough to obtain the reputation of a great
+deal more; and he must possess tact to know when and where to crouch, and where
+and when to insult.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brummel, whose career is one of the most extraordinary on record, must have
+exercised, during the period of his social reign, many qualities of conduct
+which rank among the highest endowments of our race. For an obscure individual,
+without fortune or rank, to have conceived the idea of placing himself at the
+head of society in a country the most thoroughly aristocratic in Europe,
+relying too upon no other weapon than well-directed insolence; for the same
+individual to have triumphed splendidly over the highest and the
+mightiest&mdash;to have maintained a contest with royalty itself, and to have
+come off victorious even in that struggle&mdash;for such an one no ordinary
+faculties must have been demanded. Of the sayings of Brummel which have been
+preserved, it is difficult to distinguish whether they contain real wit, or are
+only so sublimely and so absurdly impudent that they look like witty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We add here a few anecdotes of Brummel, which will serve to show, better than
+any precepts, the style of conduct which a man of fashion may pursue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Brummel was at the height of his power, he was once, in the company of
+some gentlemen, speaking of the Prince of Wales as a very good sort of man, who
+behaved himself very decently, <i>considering circumstances</i>; some one
+present offered a wager that he would not dare to give a direction to this very
+good sort of man. Brummel looked astonished at the remark, and declined
+accepting a wager upon such point. They happened to be dining with the regent
+the next day, and after being pretty well fortified. with wine, Brummel
+interrupted a remark of the prince&rsquo;s, by exclaiming very mildly and
+naturally, &ldquo;Wales, ring the bell!&rdquo; His royal highness immediately
+obeyed the command, and when the servant entered, said to him, with the utmost
+coolness and firmness, &ldquo;Show Mr. Brummel to his carriage.&rdquo; The
+dandy was not in the least dejected by his expulsion; but meeting the prince
+regent, walking with a gentleman, the next day in the street, he did not bow to
+him, but stopping the other, drew him aside and said, in a loud whisper,
+&ldquo;Who is that FAT FRIEND of ours?&rdquo; It must be remembered that the
+object of this sarcasm was at that time exceedingly annoyed by his increasing
+corpulency; so manifestly so, that Sheridan remarked, that &ldquo;though the
+regent professed himself a Whig, he believed that in his heart he was no friend
+to <i>new measures.</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shortly after this occurrence at Carlton-House, Brummel remarked to one of his
+friends, that &ldquo;he had half a mind to cut the young one, and bring old
+George into fashion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In describing a short visit which he had paid to a nobleman in the country, he
+said, that he had only carried with him a night-cap and a silver basin to spit
+in, &ldquo;Because, you know, it is utterly impossible to spit in clay.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brummel was once present at a party to which he had not been invited. After he
+had been some time in the room, the gentleman of the house, willing to mortify
+him, went up to him and said that he believed that there must be some mistake,
+as he did not recollect having had the honour of sending him an invitation.
+&ldquo;What is the name?&rdquo; said the other very drawlingly, at the same
+time affecting to feel in his waistcoat pocket for a card.
+&ldquo;Johnson,&rdquo; replied the gentleman. &ldquo;Jauhnson?&rdquo; said
+Brummel, &ldquo;oh! I remember now that the name was Thaunson (Thompson); and
+Jauhnson and Thaunson, Thaunson and Jauhnson, you know, are so much the same
+kind of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brummel was once asked how much a year he thought would be required to keep a
+single man in clothes. &ldquo;Why, with tolerable economy,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;I think it might be done for £800.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He once went down to a gentleman&rsquo;s house in the country, without having
+been asked to do so. He was given to understand, the next morning, that his
+absence would be more agreeable, and he took his departure. Some one having
+heard of his discomfiture, asked him how he liked the accommodations there. He
+replied coolly, that &ldquo;it was a very decent house to spend a single night
+in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We have mentioned that this dreaded arbiter of modes had threatened that he
+would put the prince regent out of fashion. Alas! for the peace of the British
+monarch, this was not an idle boast. His dangerous rival resolved in the
+unfathomable recesses of a mind capacious of such things, to commence and to
+carry on a war whose terror and grandeur should astound society, to administer
+to audacious royalty a lesson which should never be forgotten, and finally to
+retire, when retire he must, with mementos of his tremendous power around him,
+and with the mightiest of the earth at his feet. Inventive and deliberate were
+the counsels which he meditated; sublime and resolute was the conduct he
+adopted. He decided, with an originality of genius to which the conqueror of
+Marengo might have vailed, that the <i>neck</i> of the foe was the point at
+which the first fatal shaft of his excommunicating ire should be hurled. With
+rapid and decisive energy he concentrated all his powers for instantaneous
+action. He retired for a day to the seclusion of solitude, to summon and to
+spur the energies of the most self-reliant mind in Europe, as the lion draws
+back to gather courage for the leap. As, like the lion, he drew back; so, like
+the lion, did he spring forward upon his prey. At a ball given by the Duchess
+of Devonshire, when the whole assembly were conversing upon his supposed
+disgrace, and insulting by their malevolence one whom they had disgusted by
+their adulation, Brummel suddenly stood in the midst of them. Could it be
+indeed Brummel? Could it be mortal who thus appeared with such an encincture of
+radiant glory about his neck? Every eye was upon him, fixed in stupid
+admiration; every tongue, as it slowly recovered from its speechless paralysis,
+faltered forth &ldquo;what a cravat!&rdquo; What a cravat indeed! Hundreds that
+had, a moment before, exulted in unwonted freedom, bowed before it with the
+homage of servile adoration. What a cravat! There it stood; there was no
+doubting its entity, no believing it an illusion. There it stood, smooth and
+stiff, yet light and almost transparent; delicate as the music of Ariel, yet
+firm as the spirit of Regulus; bending with the grace of Apollo&rsquo;s locks,
+yet erect with the majesty of the Olympian Jove: without a wrinkle, without an
+indentation. What a cravat! The regent &ldquo;saw and shook;&rdquo; and
+uttering a faint gurgle from beneath the wadded bag which surrounded his royal
+thorax, he was heard to whisper with dismay, &ldquo;D&mdash;n him! what a
+cravat!&rdquo; The triumph was complete.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is stated, upon what authority we know not, that his royal highness, after
+passing a sleepless night in vain conjectures, despatched at an early hour, one
+of his privy-counsellors to Brummel, offering <i>carte blanche</i> if he would
+disclose the secret of that mysterious cravat. But the &ldquo;<i>atrox animus
+Catonis</i>&rdquo; disdained the bribe. He preferred being supplicated, to
+being bought, by kings. &ldquo;Go,&rdquo; said he to the messenger, with the
+spirit of Marius mantling in his veins, &ldquo;Go, and tell <i>you</i>r master
+that you have seen <i>his</i> master.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the truth of another anecdote, connected with this cravat, we have
+indisputable evidence. A young nobleman of distinguished talents and high
+pretensions as to fortune and rank, saw this fatal band, and eager to advance
+himself in the rolls of fashion, retired to his chamber to endeavour to
+penetrate the method of its construction. He tried every sort of known, and
+many sorts of unknown stiffeners to accomplish the end&mdash;paper and
+pasteboard, and wadding, shavings, and shingles, and planks,&mdash;all were
+vainly experienced. Gargantua could not have exhibited a greater invention of
+expedients than he did; but vainly. After a fortnight of the closest
+application, ardour of study and anxiety of mind combined, brought him to the
+brink of the grave. His mother having ascertained the origin of his complaint,
+waited upon Brummel, who was the only living man that could remove it. She
+implored him, by every human motive, to say but one word, to save the life of
+her son and prevent her own misery. But the tyrant was immoveable, and the
+young man expired a victim of his sternness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When, at length, yielding to that strong necessity which no man can control,
+Brummel was obliged, like Napoleon, to abdicate, the mystery of that mighty
+cravat was unfolded. There was found, after his departure to Calais, written on
+sheet of paper upon his table, the following epigram of scorn: &ldquo;STARCH IS
+THE MAN.&rdquo; The cravat of Brummel was merely&mdash;starched! Henceforth
+starch was introduced into every cravat in Europe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brummel still lives, an obscure consul in a petty European town.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Physically there is something to command our admiration in the history of a man
+who thus lays at his mercy all ranks of men,&mdash;the lofty and the low, the
+great, the powerful and the vain: but morally and seriously, no character is
+more despicable than that of the mere man of fashion, Seeking nothing but
+notoriety, his path to that end is over the ruins of all that is worthy in our
+nature. He knows virtue only to despise it; he makes himself acquainted with
+human feelings only to outrage them. He commences his career beyond the limits
+of decency, and ends it far in the regions of infamy. Feared by all and
+respected by none, hated by his worshippers and despised by himself, he
+rules,&mdash;an object of pity and contempt: and when his power is past, his
+existence is forgotten; he lives on in an, oblivion which is to him worse than
+death, and the stings of memory goad him to the grave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The devotee of fashion is a trifler unworthy of his race; the <i>mere</i>
+gentleman is a character which may in time become somewhat tiresome; there is a
+just mean between the two, where a better conduct than either is to be found.
+It is that of a man who, yielding to others, still maintains his self-respect,
+and whose concessions to folly are controlled by good sense; who remembers the
+value of trifles without forgetting the importance of duties, and resolves so
+to regulate his conduct that neither others may be offended by his stiffness,
+nor himself have to regret his levity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Live therefore among men&mdash;to conclude our homily after the manner of
+Quarles&mdash;live therefore among men, like them, yet not disliking thyself;
+and let the hues of fashion be reflected from thee, but let them not enter and
+colour thee within.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br />
+MISCELLANEOUS.</h2>
+
+<p>
+There is nothing more ill bred in the world than continual talking about good
+breeding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You should never employ the word &ldquo;<i>genteel</i>;&rdquo; the proper word
+is &ldquo;<i>respectable.</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you are walking down the street with another person on your arm, and stop to
+say something to one of your friends, do not commit the too common and most
+awkward error of introducing such persons to one another. Never introduce
+morning visitors, who happen to meet in your parlour without being acquainted.
+If <i>you</i> should be so introduced, remember that the acquaintance
+afterwards goes for nothing: you have not the slightest right to expect that
+the other should ever speak to you.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you wish to be introduced to a lady, you must always have her consent
+previously asked; this formality it is not necessary to observe in the case of
+gentlemen alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presents are the gauge of friendship. They also serve to increase it, and give
+it permanence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Among friends presents ought to be made of things of small value; or, if
+valuable, their worth should be derived from the style of the workmanship, or
+from some accidental circumstance, rather than from the inherent and solid
+richness. Especially never offer to a lady a gift of great cost: it is in the
+highest degree indelicate, and looks as if you were desirous of placing her
+under an obligation to you, and of buying her good will. The gifts made by
+ladies to gentlemen are of the most refined nature possible: they should be
+little articles not purchased, but deriving a priceless value as being the
+offspring of their gentle skill; a little picture from their pencil, or a
+trifle from their needle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To persons much your superiors, or gentlemen whom you do not know intimately,
+there is but one species of appropriate present&mdash;game.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you make a present, and it is praised by the receiver, you should not
+yourself commence undervaluing it. If one is offered to you, always accept it;
+and however small it may be, receive it with civil and expressed thanks,
+without any kind of affectation. Avoid all such deprecatory phrases, as
+&ldquo;I fear I rob you,&rdquo; etc.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To children, the only presents which you offer are sugar-plums and bon-bons.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Avoid the habit of employing French words in English conversation; it is in
+extremely bad taste to be always employing such expressions as
+<i>ci-devant</i>, <i>soi-disant</i>, <i>en masse</i>, <i>couleur de rose</i>,
+etc. Do not salute your acquaintances with <i>bon jour</i>, nor reply to every
+proposition, <i>volontiers.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In speaking of French cities and towns, it is a mark of refinement in education
+to pronounce them rigidly according to English rules of speech. Mr. Fox, the
+best French scholar, and one of the best bred men in England, always sounded
+the x in <i>Bourdeaux</i>, and the s in Calais, and on all occasions pronounced
+such names just as they are written.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In society, avoid having those peculiar preferences for some subjects, which
+are vulgarly denominated. &ldquo;<i>hobby horses.</i>&rdquo; They make your
+company a <i>bore</i> to all your friends; and some kind-hearted creature will
+take advantage of them and <i>trot</i> you, for the amusement of the company.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A certain degree of reserve, or the appearance of it, should be maintained in
+your intercourse with your most intimate friends. To ordinary acquaintances
+retain the utmost reserve&mdash;never allowing them to read your feelings, not,
+on the other hand, attempting to take any liberties with them. Familiarity of
+manner is the greatest vice of society. &ldquo;Ah! allow me, my dear
+fellow,&rdquo; says a rough voice, and at the same moment a thumb and finger
+are extended into my snuff-box, which, in removing their prey drop half of it
+upon my clothes,&mdash;I look up, and recognize a person to whom I was
+introduced by mistake last night at the opera. I would be glad to have less
+fellowship with such <i>fellows.</i> In former times great philosophers were
+said to have demons for familiars,&mdash;thereby indicating that a familiar man
+is the very devil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Remember, that all deviations from prescribed forms, on common occasions, are
+vulgar; such as sending invitations, or replies, couched in some unusual forms
+of speech. Always adhere to the immemorial phrase,&mdash;&ldquo;Mrs. X.
+requests the honour of Mr, Y.&rsquo;s company,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Mr. Y. has the
+honour of accepting Mrs. X.&rsquo;s polite invitation.&rdquo; Never introduce
+persons with any outlandish or new-coined expressions; but perform the
+operation with mathematical precision&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. A., Mr. A&rsquo;; Mr.
+A&rsquo;, Mr. A.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When two gentlemen are walking with a lady in the street, they should not be
+both upon the same side of her, but one of them should walk upon the outside
+and the other upon the inside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you walk with a lady, even if the lady be young and unmarried, offer your
+arm to her. This is always done in France, and is practised in this country by
+the best bred persons. To be sure, this is done only to married women in
+France, because unmarried women never walk alone with gentlemen, but as in
+America the latter have the same freedom as the former, this custom should here
+be extended to them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you are walking with a woman who has your arm, and you cross the street, it
+is better not to disengage your arm, and go round upon the outside. Such effort
+evinces a palpable attention to form, and <i>that</i> is always to be avoided.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A woman should never take the arms of two men, one being upon either side; nor
+should a man carry a woman upon each arm. The latter of these iniquities is
+practised only in Ireland; the former perhaps in Kamskatcha. There are, to be
+sure, some cases in which it is necessary for the protection of the women, that
+they should both take his arm, as in coming home from a concert, or in passing,
+on any occasion, through a crowd.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you receive company in your own house, you should never be much dressed.
+This is a circumstance of the first importance in good breeding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A gentleman should never use perfumes; they are agreeable, however, upon
+ladies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Avoid the use of proverbs in conversation, and all sorts of cant phrases. This
+error is, I believe, censured by Lord Chesterfield, and is one of the most
+offensively vulgar things which a person can commit. We have frequently been
+astonished to hear such a slang phrase as &ldquo;the whole hog&rdquo; used by
+persons who had pretensions to very superior standing. We would be disposed to
+apply to such an expression a criticism of Dr. Johnson&rsquo;s, which rivals it
+in Coarseness: &ldquo;It has not enough salt to keep it from stinking, enough
+wit to prevent its being offensive.&rdquo; We do not wish to advocate any false
+refinement, or to encourage any cockney delicacy: but we may be decent without
+being affected. The stable language and raft humour of Crockett and Downing may
+do very well to amuse one in a morning paper, but it exhibits little wit and
+less good sense to adopt them in the drawing-room. This matter should be
+&ldquo;reformed altogether.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If a plate be sent to you, at dinner, by the master or mistress of the house,
+you should always take it, without offering it to all your neighbours as was in
+older times considered necessary. The spirit of antique manners consisted in
+exhibiting an attention to ceremony; the spirit of modern manners consists in
+avoiding all possible appearance of form. The old custom of deferring
+punctiliously to others was awkward and inconvenient. For, the person, in favor
+of whom the courtesy was shown, shocked at the idea of being exceeded in
+politeness, of course declined it, and a plate was thus often kept vibrating
+between two bowing mandarins, till its contents were cold, and the victims of
+ceremony were deprived of their dinner. In a case like this, to reverse the
+decision which the host has made as to the relative standing of his guests, is
+but a poor compliment to him, as it seems to reprove his choice, and may,
+besides, materially interfere with his arrangements by rendering
+<i>unhelped</i> a person whom he supposes attended to.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The same avoidance of too much attention to yielding place is proper in most
+other cases. Shenstone, in some clever verses, has ridiculed the folly; and
+Goldsmith, in his &ldquo;Vicar,&rdquo; has censured the inconvenience, of such
+outrageous formality. These things are now managed better. One person yields
+and another accepts without any controversy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you are helped to anything at a dinner table, do not wait, with your plate
+untouched, until others have begun to eat. This stiff-piece of mannerism is
+often occurring in the country, and indeed among all persons who are not
+thoroughly bred. As soon as your plate is placed before you, you should take up
+your knife and arrange the table furniture around you, if you do not actually
+eat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As to the instruments by which the operation of dining is conducted, it is a
+matter of much consequence that entire propriety should be observed as to their
+use. We have said nothing about the use of silver forks, because we do not
+write for savages; and where, excepting among savages, shall we find any who at
+present eat with other than a French fork?. There are occasionally to be found
+some ancients, gentlemen of the old school, as it is termed, who persist in
+preferring steel, and who will insist on calling for a steel fork if there is
+none on the table. They consider the modem custom an affectation, and deem that
+all affectation should be avoided. They tread upon the pride of Plato, with
+more pride. There is often affectation in shunning affectation. It is better in
+things not material to submit to the established habits, especially when, as in
+the present case, the balance of convenience is decidedly on the part of
+fashion. The ordinary custom among well bred persons, is as follows:&mdash;soup
+is taken with a spoon. Some foolish <i>fashionables</i> employ a fork! They
+might as well make use of a broomstick. The fish which follows is eaten with a
+fork, a knife not being used at all. The fork is held in the right hand, and a
+piece of bread in the left. For any dish in which cutting is not indispensable,
+the same arrangement is correct. When you have upon your plate, before the
+dessert, anything partially liquid, or any sauces, you must not take them up
+with a knife, but with a piece of bread, which is to be saturated with the
+juices, and then lifted to the mouth. If such an article forms part of the
+dessert, you should eat it with a spoon. In carving, steel instruments alone
+are employed. For fowls a peculiar knife is used, having the blade short and
+the handle very long. For fish a broad and pierced silver blade is used.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A dinner&mdash;we allude to <i>dinner-parties</i>&mdash;in this country, is
+generally despatched with too much hurry. We do not mean, that persons commonly
+eat too fast, but that the courses succeed one another too precipitately.
+Dinner is the last operation of the day, and there is no subsequent business
+which demands haste. It is usually intended, especially when there are no
+ladies, to sit at the table till nine, ten, or eleven o&rsquo;clock, and it is
+more agreeable that the <i>eating</i> should be prolonged through a
+considerable portion of the entire time. The conveniences of digestion also
+require more deliberation, and it would therefore not be unpleasant if an
+interval of a quarter of an hour or half an hour were allowed to intervene
+between the meats and the dessert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At dinner, avoid taking upon your plate too many things at once. One variety of
+meat and one kind of vegetable is the <i>maximum.</i> When you take another
+sort of meat, or any dish not properly a vegetable, you always change your
+plate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fashion of dining inordinately late in this country is foolish. It is
+borrowed from England without any regard to the difference in circumstances
+between the two nations. In London, the whole system of daily duties is much
+later. The fact of parliament&rsquo;s sitting during the evening and not in the
+morning, tends to remove the active part of the day to a much more advanced
+hour. When persons rise at ten or two o&rsquo;clock, it is not to be expected
+that they should dine till eight or twelve in the evening. There is nothing of
+this sort in France. There they dine at three, or earlier. We have known some
+fashionable dinners in different cities in this country at so late an hour as
+eight or nine o&rsquo;clock. This is absurd, where the persons have all
+breakfasted at eight in the morning. From four o&rsquo;clock till five varies
+the proper hour for a dinner party here.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never talk about politics at a dinner table or in a drawing room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you are going into a company it is of advantage to run over in your mind,
+beforehand, the topics of conversation which you intend to bring up, and to
+arrange the manner in which you will introduce them. You may also refresh your
+general ideas upon the subjects, and run through the details of the few very
+brief and sprightly anecdotes which you are going to repeat; and also have in
+readiness one or two brilliant phrases or striking words which you will use
+upon occasion. Further than this it is dangerous to make much preparation. If
+you commit to memory long speeches with the design of delivering them, your
+conversation will become formal, and you will be negligent of the observations
+of your company. It will tend also to impair that habit of readiness and
+quickness which it is necessary to cultivate in order to be agreeable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You must be very careful that you do not repeat the same anecdotes or let off
+the same good things twice to the same person. Richard Sharpe, the
+&ldquo;conversationist&rdquo; as he was called in London, kept a regular book
+of entry, in which he recorded where and before whom he had uttered severally
+his choice sayings. The celebrated Bubb Doddington prepared a manuscript book
+of original <i>facetiæ</i>, which he was accustomed to read over when he
+expected any distinguished company, trusting to an excellent memory to preserve
+him from iteration.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you accompany your wife to a ball, be very careful not to dance with her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lady who gives a ball dances but little, and always selects her partners.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you are visited by any company whom you wish to drive away forever, or any
+friends whom you wish to alienate, entertain them by reading to them your own
+productions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you ask a lady to dance, and she is engaged, do not prefer a request for her
+hand at the next set after that, because she may be engaged for that also, and
+for many more; and you would have to run through a long list of
+interrogatories, which would be absurd and awkward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A gentleman must not expect to shine in society, even the most frivolous,
+without a considerable stock of knowledge. He must be acquainted with facts
+rather than principles. He needs no very sublime sciences; but a knowledge of
+biography and literary history, of the fine arts, as painting, engraving,
+music, etc., will be of great service to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some men are always seen in the streets with an umbrella under their arm. Such
+a foible may be permitted to such men as Mr. Southey and the Duke of
+Wellington: but in ordinary men it looks like affectation, and the monotony is
+exceedingly <i>boring</i> to the sight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To applaud at a play is not <i>fashionable</i>; but it is <i>respectable</i> to
+evince by a gentle concurrence of one finger and a hand that you perceive and
+enjoy a good stroke in an actor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If you are at a concert, or a private musical party, never beat time with your
+feet or your cane. Nothing is more unpleasant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Few things are more agreeable or more difficult, than to relate anecdotes with
+entire propriety. They should be introduced gracefully, have fit connexion with
+the previous remarks, and be in perfect keeping with the company, the subject
+and the tone of the conversation; they should be short, witty and eloquent, and
+they should be new but not far-fetched.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In rapid and eager discourse, when persons are excited and impatient, as at a
+ball or in a promenade, repeat nothing but the spirit and soul of a story,
+leaping over the particulars. There are however many places and occasions in
+which you may bring out the details with advantage, precisely, but not
+tediously. When you repeat a true story be always extremely exact. Mem. Not to
+forget the point of your story, like most narrators.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When you are telling a flat anecdote by mistake, laugh egregiously, that others
+may do the same: when you repeat a spirited and striking bon mot, be grave and
+composed, in order that others may not be the same.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For one who has travelled much, to hit the proper medium between too much
+reserve and too much intrusion, on the subject of his adventures, is not easy.
+Such a person is expected to give amusement by pleasant histories of his
+travels, and it is agreeable that he should do so, yet with moderation; he
+should not reply to every remark by a memoir, commencing, &ldquo;When I was in
+Japan.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Rampant witticisms which require one to laugh, are apt to grow fatiguing: it is
+better to have a sprightly and amusing vein running through your conversation,
+which, betraying no effort, allows one to be grave without offence, or to smile
+without pain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Punning is now decidedly out of date. It is a silly and displeasing thing, when
+it becomes a habit. Some one has called it the wit of fools. It is within the
+reach of the most trifling, and is often used by them to puzzle and degrade the
+wise. Whatever may be its merits, it is now out of fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is respectable to go to church once on Sunday. When you are there, behave
+with decency. You should never walk in fashionable places on Sunday afternoon.
+It is notoriously vulgar. If your health requires you to take the air, you
+should seek some retired street.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In conversation avoid such phrases as &ldquo;My <i>dear</i> sir or
+madam.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A gentleman is distinguished as much by his composure as by any other quality.
+His exertions are always subdued, and his efforts easy. He is never surprised
+into an exclamation or startled by anything. Throughout life he avoids what the
+French call <i>scenes</i>, occasions of exhibition, in which the vulgar
+delight. He of course has feelings, but he never exhibits any to the world. He
+hears of the death of his pointer or the loss of an estate with entire calmness
+when others are present.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is very difficult for a literary man to preserve the perfect manners and
+exact semblance of a gentleman. He must be able to throw aside all the
+qualities which authorship tends to stamp so deeply upon him, and thoroughly to
+despise the cant of the profession. Yet this must be done without any
+affectation. Upon the whole, unless he has rare tact, he will please as much by
+going into company with all the marks of his employment upon his manners, than
+by awkwardly attempting to throw off his load. One would rather see a man with
+his fingers inked, than to see him nervously striving to cover them with a
+tattered kid glove. As to literary ladies, they make up their minds to
+sacrifice all present and personal admiration for future and abiding renown.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is not considered fashionable to carry a watch. What has a fashionable man
+to do with time? Besides he never goes into those obscure parts of the town
+where there are no public clocks, and his servant will tell him when it is time
+to dress for dinner. A gentleman carries his watch in his pantaloons with a
+plain black ribbon attached. It is only worthy of a shop-boy to put it in his
+waistcoat pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Custom allows to men the privilege of taking snuff, however unneat this habit
+may appear. If you affect the &ldquo;tangible smell,&rdquo; always take it from
+a box, and not from your waistcoat pocket or a paper. The common opinion, that
+Napoleon took snuff from his pocket, (which fact, by the way, is denied by
+Bourrienne,) has for ever driven this convenient custom from the practice of
+gentlemen, for the same reason that Lord Byron&rsquo;s anti-neckcloth fashion
+has compelled every man of sense to bind a cravat religiously about his throat.
+As to taking snuff from a paper, it is vile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Women should abstain most scrupulously from tobacco, for nothing can be more
+fatal to their divinity: they should at least avoid it until past
+fifty;&mdash;that is to say, if a woman past fifty can anywhere be found.
+Chewing is permitted only to galley-slaves and metaphysicians.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a favourite maxim of Rivarol, &ldquo;Do you wish to succeed? Cite proper
+names.&rdquo; Rivarol is dead in exile, having left behind him little property
+and less reputation. Judging from all experience, if we were to frame an
+extreme maxim, it should be, &ldquo;If you wish to succeed never cite a proper
+name.&rdquo; It will make you agreeable and hated. Your conversation will be
+listened to with interest, and your company shunned with horror. You will
+obtain the reputation of a gossip and a scandal-bearer, and you will soon be
+obliged either to purchase a razor or apply for a passport. If you are holding
+a tete-a-tete with a notorious Mrs. Candour, then, indeed, your tongue should
+be as sharp and nimble as the forked lightning. You must beat her at her own
+weapons, and convince her that it would be dangerous to traduce your character
+to others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A bachelor is a person who enjoys everything and pays for nothing; a married
+man is one that pays for everything and enjoys nothing. The one drives a sulky
+through life, and is not expected to take care of any one but himself: the
+other keeps a carriage, which is always too full to afford him a comfortable
+seat. Be cautious then how you exchange your sulky for a carriage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In ordinary conversation about persons employ the expressions <i>men</i> and
+<i>women</i>; <i>gentleman</i> and <i>lady</i> are <i>distinctive</i>
+appellations, and not to be used upon general occasions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+You should say <i>forte-piano</i>, not <i>piano-forte</i>: and the <i>street
+door</i>, not the <i>front door.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man may have virtue, capacity, and good conduct,&rdquo; says La
+Bruyère, &ldquo;and yet be insupportable; the air and manner which we neglect,
+as little things, are frequently what the world judges us by, and makes them
+decide for or against us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In your intercourse with the world you must take persons as they are, and
+society as you find it. You must never oppose the one, nor attempt to alter the
+other. Society is a harlequin stage, upon which you never appear in your own
+dress nor without a mask. Keep your real dispositions for your fireside, and
+your real character for your private friend. In public, never differ from
+anybody, nor from anything. The <i>agreeable</i> man is one who <i>agrees.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+THE END.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Laws of Etiquette, by  A Gentleman
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+Title: The Laws of Etiquette
+
+Author:  A Gentleman
+
+Release Date: May, 2004  [EBook #5681]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on August 7, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE LAWS OF ETIQUETTE ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by Holly Ingraham
+
+Transcriber's Note: Note the inconsistency of "Brummell" in
+one place of the original, and "Brummel" all other places.
+Also "Shakspeare," "Don Quixotte," "Sir Piercy," and "Esop"
+are as in the original. There was no table of contents. The
+original uses both all caps and italics. I have indicated the
+last with bracketing blanks, _like this._
+
+
+**********************************
+
+THE
+
+LAWS OF ETIQUETTE;
+
+or,
+
+Short Rules and Reflections
+
+for
+
+CONDUCT IN SOCIETY.
+
+BY A GENTLEMAN.
+
+PHILADELPHIA:
+
+1836.
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+The author of the present volume has endeavoured to embody,
+in as short a space as possible, some of the results of his
+own experience and observation in society, and submits the
+work to the public, with the hope that the remarks which are
+contained in it, may prove available for the benefit of
+others. It is, of course, scarcely possible that anything
+original should be found in a volume like this: almost all
+that it contains must have fallen under the notice of every
+man of penetration who has been in the habit of frequenting
+good society. Many of the precepts have probably been
+contained in works of a similar character which have appeared
+in England and France since the days of Lord Chesterfield.
+Nothing however has been copied from them in the compilation
+of this work, the author having in fact scarcely any
+acquaintance with books of this description, and many years
+having elapsed since he has opened even the pages of the
+noble oracle. He has drawn entirely from his own resources,
+with the exception of some hints for arrangement, and a few
+brief reflections, which have been derived from the French.
+
+The present volume is almost apart from criticism. It has no
+pretensions to be judged as a literary work--its sole merit
+depending upon its correctness and fitness of application.
+Upon these grounds he ventures to hope for it a favourable
+reception.
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+The great error into which nearly all foreigners and most
+Americans fall, who write or speak of society in this
+country, arises from confounding the political with the
+social system. In most other countries, in England, France,
+and all those nations whose government is monarchical or
+aristocratic, these systems are indeed similar. Society is
+there intimately connected with the government, and the
+distinctions in one are the origin of gradations in the
+other. The chief part of the society of the kingdom is
+assembled in the capital, and the same persons who legislate
+for the country legislate also for it. But in America the two
+systems are totally unconnected, and altogether different in
+character. In remodelling the form of the administration,
+society remained unrepublican. There is perfect freedom of
+political privilege, all are the same upon the hustings, or
+at a political meeting; but this equality does not extend to
+the drawing-room or the parlour. None are excluded from the
+highest councils of the nation, but it does not follow that
+all can enter into the highest ranks, of society. In point of
+fact, we think that there is more exclusiveness in the
+society of this country, than there is in that even of
+England--far more than there is in France. And the
+explanation may perhaps be found in the fact which we hate
+mentioned above. There being there less danger of permanent
+disarrangement or confusion of ranks by the occasional
+admission of the low-born aspirant, there does not exist the
+same necessity for a jealous guarding of the barriers as
+there does here. The distinction of classes, also, after the
+first or second, is actually more clearly defined, and more
+rigidly observed in America, than in any country of Europe.
+Persons unaccustomed to look searchingly at these matters,
+may be surprised to hear it; but we know from observation,
+that there are among the respectable, in any city of the
+United States, at least ten distinct ranks. We cannot, of
+course, here point them out, because we could not do it
+without mentioning names.
+
+Every man is naturally desirous of finding entrance into the
+best society of his country, and it becomes therefore a
+matter of importance to ascertain what qualifications are
+demanded for admittance.
+
+A writer who is popularly unpopular, has remarked, that the
+test of standing in Boston, is literary eminence; in New
+York, wealth; and in Philadelphia, purity of blood.
+
+To this remark, we can only oppose our opinion, that none of
+these are indispensable, and none of them sufficient. The
+society of this country, unlike that of England, does not
+court literary talent. We have cases in our recollection,
+which prove the remark, in relation to the highest ranks,
+even of Boston. Wealth has no pretensions to be the standard
+anywhere. In New York, the Liverpool of America, although the
+rich may make greater display and _bruit,_ yet all of the
+merely rich, will find that there does exist a small and
+unchanging circle, whether above or below them, 'it is not
+ours to say,' yet completely apart from them, into which they
+would rejoice to find entrance, and from which they would be
+glad to receive emigrants.
+
+Whatever may be the accomplishments necessary to render one
+capable of reaching the highest platform of social eminence,
+and it is not easy to define clearly what they are, there is
+one thing, and one alone, which will enable any man to
+_retain_ his station there; and that is, GOOD BREEDING.
+Without it, we believe that literature, wealth, and even
+blood, will be unsuccessful. By it, if it co-exist with a
+certain capacity of affording pleasure by conversation, any
+one, we imagine, could frequent the very best society in
+every city of America, and _perhaps the very best alone._ To
+obtain, then, the manners of a gentleman is a matter of no
+small importance.
+
+We do not pretend that a man will be metamorphosed into a
+gentleman by reading this book, or any other book. Refined
+manners are like refined style which Cicero compares to the
+colour of the cheeks, which is not acquired by sudden or
+violent exposure to heat, but by continual walking in the
+sun. Good manners can certainly only be acquired by much
+usage in good company. But there are a number of little
+forms, imperiously enacted by custom, which may be taught in
+this manner, and the conscious ignorance of which often
+prevents persons from going into company at all.
+
+These forms may be abundantly absurd, but still they _must_
+be attended to; for one half the world does and always will
+observe them, and the other half is at a great disadvantage
+if it does not. Intercourse is constantly taking place, and
+an awkward man of letters, in the society of a polished man
+of the world, is like a strong man contending with a skilful
+fencer. Mr. Addison says, that he once saw the ablest
+mathematician in the kingdom utterly embarrassed, from not
+knowing whether he ought to stand or sit when my lord duke
+drank his health.
+
+Some of the many errors which are liable to be committed
+through ignorance of usage, are pleasantly pointed out in the
+following story, which is related by a French writer.
+
+The Abb, Cosson, professor in the _College Mazarin,_
+thoroughly accomplished in the art of teaching, saturated
+with Greek, Latin, and literature, considered himself a
+perfect well of science: he had no conception that a man who
+knew all Persius and Horace by heart could possibly commit an
+error--above all, an error at table. But it was not long
+before he discovered his mistake. One day, after dining with
+the Abb, de Radonvillers at Versailles, in company with
+several courtiers and marshals of France, he was boasting of
+the rare acquaintance with etiquette and custom which he had
+exhibited at dinner. The Abb, Delille, who heard this eulogy
+upon his own conduct, interrupted his harangue, by offering
+to wager that he had committed at least a hundred
+improprieties at the table. "How is it possible!" exclaimed
+Cosson. "I did exactly like the rest of the company."
+
+"What absurdity!" said the other. "You did a thousand things
+which no one else did. First, when you sat down at the table,
+what did you do with your napkin?" "My napkin? Why just what
+every body else did with theirs. I unfolded it entire]y, and
+fastened it to my buttonhole." "Well, my dear friend," said
+Delille, "you were the only one that did _that,_ at all
+events. No one hangs up his napkin in that style; they are
+contented with placing it on their knees. And what did you,
+do when you took your soup?" "Like the others, I believe. I
+took my spoon in one hand, and my fork in the other--" "Your
+fork! Who ever eat soup with a fork?--But to proceed; after
+your soup, what did you eat?" "A fresh egg." "And what did
+you do with the shell?" "Handed it to the servant who stood
+behind my chair." "With out breaking it?" "Without breaking
+it, of course." "Well, my dear Abb,, nobody ever eats an egg
+without breaking the shell. And after your egg--?" "I asked
+the Abb, Radonvillers to send me a piece of the hen near
+him." "Bless my soul! a piece of the _hen_? You never speak
+of hens excepting in the barn-yard. You should have asked for
+fowl or chicken. But you say nothing of your mode of
+drinking." "Like all the rest, I asked for _claret_ and
+_champagne._" "Let me inform you, then, that persons always
+ask for _claret wine_ and _champagne wine._ But, tell me, how
+did you eat your bread?" "Surely I did that properly. I cut
+it with my knife, in the most regular manner possible."
+"Bread should always be broken, not cut. But the coffee, how
+did you manage it?" "It was rather too hot, and I poured a
+little of it into my saucer." "Well, you committed here the
+greatest fault of all. You should never pour  your coffee
+into the saucer, but always drink it from the cup." The poor
+Abb, was confounded. He felt that though one might be master
+of the seven sciences, yet that there was another species of
+knowledge which, if less dignified, was equally important.
+
+This occurred many years ago, but there is not one of the
+observances neglected by the Abb, Cosson, which is not
+enforced with equal rigidness in the present day.
+
+CHAPTER I. GOOD BREEDING.
+
+The formalities of refined society were at first established
+for the purpose of facilitating the intercourse of persons of
+the same standing, and increasing the happiness of all to
+whom they apply. They are now kept up, both to assist the
+convenience of intercourse and to prevent too great
+familiarity. If they are carried too far, and escape from the
+control of good sense, they become impediments to enjoyment.
+Among the Chinese they serve only the purpose of annoying to
+an incalculable degree. "The government," says De Marcy, in
+writing of China, "constantly applies itself to preserve, not
+only in the court and among the great, but among the people
+themselves, a constant habit of civility and courtesy. The
+Chinese have an infinity of books upon such subjects; one of
+these treatises contains more than three thousand articles.--
+Everything is pointed out with the most minute detail; the
+manner of saluting, of visiting, of making presents, of
+writing letters, of eating, etc.: and these customs have the
+force of laws--no one can dispense with them. There is a
+special tribunal at Peking, of which it is one of the chief
+duties, to ensure the observance of these civil ordinances?"
+
+One would think that one was here reading an account of the
+capital of France. It depends, then, upon the spirit in which
+these forms are observed, whether their result shall be
+beneficial or not. The French and the Chinese are the most
+formal of all the nations. Yet the one is the stiffest and
+most distant; the other, the easiest and most social.
+
+"We may define politeness," says La Bruy,re, "though we
+cannot tell where to fix it in practice. It observes received
+usages and customs, is bound to times and places, and is not
+the same thing in the two sexes or in different conditions.
+Wit alone cannot obtain it: it is acquired and brought to
+perfection by emulation. Some dispositions alone are
+susceptible of politeness, as others are only capable of
+great talents or solid virtues. It is true politeness puts
+merit forward, and renders it agreeable, and a man must have
+eminent qualifications to support himself without it."
+Perhaps even the greatest merit cannot successfully straggle
+against unfortunate and disagreeable manners. Lord
+Chesterfield says that the Duke of Marlborough owed his first
+promotions to the suavity of his manners, and that without it
+he could not have risen.
+
+La Bruy,re has elsewhere given this happy definition of
+politeness, the other passage being rather a description of
+it. "Politeness seems to be a certain care, by the manner of
+our words and actions, to make others pleased with us and
+themselves."
+
+We must here stop to point out an error which is often
+committed both in practice and opinion, and which consists in
+confounding together the gentleman and the man of fashion. No
+two characters can be more distinct than these. Good sense
+and self-respect are the foundations of the one--notoriety
+and influence the objects of the other. Men of fashion are to
+be seen everywhere: a pure and mere gentleman is the rarest
+thing alive. Brummel was a man of fashion; but it would be a
+perversion of terms to apply to him "a very expressive word
+in our language,--a word, denoting an assemblage of many real
+virtues and of many qualities approaching to virtues, and an
+union of manners at once pleasing and commanding respect,--
+the word gentleman."* The requisites to compose this last
+character are natural ease of manner, and an acquaintance
+with the "outward habit of encounter"--dignity and self-
+possession--a respect for all the decencies of life, and
+perfect freedom from all affectation. Dr. Johnson's bearing
+during his interview with the king showed him to be a
+thorough gentleman, and demonstrates how rare and elevated
+that character is. When his majesty expressed in the language
+of compliment his high opinion of Johnson's merits, the
+latter bowed in silence. If Chesterfield could have retained
+sufficient presence of mind to have done the same on such an
+occasion, he would have applauded himself to the end of his
+days. So delicate is the nature of those qualities that
+constitute a gentleman, that there is but one exhibition of
+this description of persons in all the literary and dramatic
+fictions from Shakespeare downward. Scott has not attempted
+it. Bulwer, in "Pelham," has shot wide of the mark. It was
+reserved for the author of two very singular productions,
+"Sydenham" and its continuation "Alice Paulet"--works of
+extraordinary merits and extraordinary faults--to portray
+this character completely, in the person of Mr. Paulet
+
+* Charles Butler's Reminiscences
+
+CHAPTER II. DRESS.
+
+First impressions are apt to be permanent; it is therefore of
+importance that they should be favourable. The dress of an
+individual is that circumstance from which you first form
+your opinion of him. It is even more prominent than manner,
+It is indeed the only thing which is remarked in a casual
+encounter, or during the first interview. It, therefore,
+should be the first care.
+
+What style is to our thoughts, dress is to our persons. It
+may supply the place of more solid  qualities, and without it
+the most solid are of little avail. Numbers have owed their
+elevation to their attention to the toilet. Place, fortune,
+marriage have all been lost by neglecting it. A man need not
+mingle long with the world to find occasion to exclaim with
+Sedaine, "Ah! mon habit, que je vous remercie!" In spite of
+the proverb, the dress often _does_ make the monk.
+
+Your dress should always be consistent with your age and your
+natural exterior. That which looks outr, on one man, will be
+agreeable on another. As success in this respect depends
+almost entirely upon particular circumstances and personal
+peculiarities, it is impossible to give general directions of
+much importance. We can only point out the field for study
+and research; it belongs to each one's own genius and
+industry to deduce the results. However ugly you may be, rest
+assured that there is some style of habiliment which will
+make you passable.
+
+If, for example, you have a stain upon your cheek which
+rivals in brilliancy the best Chateau-Margout; or, are
+afflicted with a nose whose lustre dims the ruby, you may
+employ such hues of dress, that the eye, instead of being
+shocked by the strangeness of the defect, will be charmed by
+the graceful harmony of the colours. Every one cannot indeed
+be an Adonis, but it is his own fault if he is an Esop.
+
+If you have bad, squinting eyes, which have lost their lashes
+and are bordered with red, you should wear spectacles. If the
+defect be great, your glasses should be coloured. In such
+cases emulate the sky rather than the sea: green spectacles
+are an abomination, fitted only for students in divinity,--
+blue ones are respectable and even _distingue._
+
+Almost every defect of face may be concealed by a judicious
+use and arrangement of hair. Take care, however, that your
+hair be not of one colour and your whiskers of another; and
+let your wig be large enough to cover the _whole_ of your red
+or white hair.
+
+It is evident, therefore, that though a man may be ugly,
+there is no necessity for his being shocking. Would that all
+men were convinced of this! I verily believe that if Mr. --
+in his walking-dress, and Mr. -- in his evening costume were
+to meet alone, in some solitary place, where there was
+nothing to divert their attention from one another, they
+would expire of mutual hideousness.
+
+If you have any defect, so striking and so ridiculous as to
+procure you a _nickname_ then indeed there is but one
+remedy,--renounce society.
+
+In the morning, before eleven o'clock even if you go out, you
+should not be dressed. You would be stamped a _parvenu_ if
+you were seen in anything better than a reputable old frock
+coat. If you remain at home, and are a bachelor, it is
+permitted to receive visitors in a morning gown. In summer,
+calico; in winter, figured cloth, faced with fur. At dinner,
+a coat, of course, is indispensable.
+
+The effect of a frock coat is to conceal the height. If,
+therefore, you are beneath the ordinary statue, or much above
+it, you should affect frock coats on all occasions that
+etiquette permits.
+
+Before going to a ball or party it is not sufficient that you
+consult your mirror twenty times. You must be personally
+inspected by your servant or a friend. Through defect of
+this, I once saw a gentleman enter a ball-room, attired with
+scrupulous elegance, but with one of his suspenders curling
+in graceful festoons about his feet. His glass could not show
+what was behind.
+
+If you are about to present yourself in a company composed
+only of men, you may wear boots. If there be but one lady
+present, pumps and silk-stockings are indispensable.
+
+There is a common proverb which says, that if a man be well
+dressed as to head and feet, he may present himself
+everywhere. The assertion is as false as Mr. Kemble's voice.
+Happy indeed if it were necessary to perfect only the
+extremities. The coat, the waistcoat, the gloves, and, above
+all, the cravat, must be alike ignorant of blemish.
+
+Upon the subject of the cravat--(for heaven's sake and
+Brummel's, never appear in a stock after twelve o'clock)--We
+cannot at present say anything. If we were to say anything,
+we could not be content without saying all, and to say all
+would require a folio. A book has been published upon the
+subject, entitled "The Cravat considered in its moral,
+literary, political, military, and religious attributes."
+This and a clever, though less profound, treatise on "The art
+of tying the Cravat," are as indispensable to a gentleman as
+an ice at twelve o'clock.
+
+When we speak of excellence in dress we do not mean richness
+of clothing, nor manifested elaboration. Faultless propriety,
+perfect harmony, and a refined simplicity,--these are the
+charms which fascinate here.
+
+It is as great a sin to be finical in dress as to be
+negligent.
+
+Upon this subject the ladies are the only infallible oracles.
+Apart from the perfection to which they must of necessity
+arrive, from devoting their entire existence to such
+considerations, they seem to be endued with an inexpressible
+tact, a sort of sixth sense, which reveals intuitively the
+proper distinctions. That your dress is approved by a man is
+nothing;--you cannot enjoy the high satisfaction of being
+perfectly comme il faut, until your performance has received
+the seal of a woman's approbation.
+
+If the benefits to be derived from cultivating your exterior
+do not appear sufficiently powerful to induce attention, the
+inconveniences arising from too great disregard may perhaps
+prevail. Sir Matthew Hale, in the earlier part of his life,
+dressed so badly that he was once seized by the press-gang.
+Not long since, as I entered the hall of a public hotel, I
+saw a person so villainously habited, that supposing him to
+be one of the servants, I desired him to take my luggage
+upstairs, and was on the point of offering him a shilling,
+when I discovered that I was addressing the Honorable Mr. * *
+*, one of the most eminent American statesmen.
+
+CHAPTER III. SALUTATIONS.
+
+The salutation, says a French writer, is the touchstone of
+good breeding. According to circumstances, it should be
+respectful, cordial, civil, affectionate or familiar:--an
+inclination of the head, a gesture with the hand, the
+touching or doffing of the hat.
+
+If you remove your hat you need not at the same time bend the
+dorsal vertebr' of your body, unless you wish to be very
+reverential, as in saluting a bishop.
+
+It is a mark of high breeding not to speak to  a lady in the
+street, until you perceive that she has noticed you by an
+inclination of the head.
+
+Some ladies _courtesy_ in the street, a movement not
+gracefully consistent with locomotion. They should always
+_bow._
+
+If an individual of the lowest rank, or without any rank at
+all, takes off his hat to you, you should do the same in
+return. A bow, says La Fontaine, is a note drawn at sight. If
+you acknowledge it, you must pay the full amount. The two
+best-bred men in England, Charles the Second and George the
+Fourth, never failed to take off their hats to the meanest of
+their subjects.
+
+Avoid condescending bows to your friends and equals. If you
+meet a rich parvenu, whose consequence you wish to reprove,
+you may salute him in a very patronizing manner: or else, in
+acknowledging his bow, look somewhat surprised and say,
+"Mister--eh--eh?"
+
+If you have remarkably fine teeth, you may smile
+affectionately upon the bowee, without speaking.
+
+In passing ladies of rank, whom you meet in society, bow, but
+do not speak.
+
+If you have anything to say to any one in the street,
+especially a lady, however intimate you may be, do not stop
+the person, but turn round and walk in company; you can take
+leave at the end of the street.
+
+If there is any one of your acquaintance, with whom you have
+a difference, do not avoid looking at him, unless from the
+nature of things the quarrel is necessarily for life. It is
+almost always better to bow with cold civility, though
+without speaking.
+
+As a general rule never _cut_ any one in the street. Even
+political and steamboat acquaintances should be noticed by
+the slightest movement in the world. If they presume to
+converse with you, or stop you to introduce their companion,
+it is then time to use your eye-glass, and say, "I never knew
+you."
+
+If you address a lady in the open air, you remain uncovered
+until she has desired you _twice_ to put on your hat. In
+general, if you are in any place where _etiquette_ requires
+you to remain uncovered or standing, and a lady, or one much
+your superior, requests you to be covered or to sit, you may
+how off the command. If it is repeated, you should comply.
+You thereby pay the person a marked, but delicate,
+compliment, by allowing their will to be superior to the
+general obligations of etiquette.
+
+When two Americans, who "have not been introduced," meet in
+some public place, as in a theatre, a stagecoach, or a
+steamboat, they will sit for an hour staring in one another's
+faces, but without a word of conversation. This form of
+unpoliteness has been adopted from the English, and it is as
+little worthy of imitation as the form of their government.
+Good sense and convenience are the foundations of good
+breeding; and it is assuredly vastly more reasonable and more
+agreeable to enjoy a passing gratification, when no sequent
+evil is to be apprehended, than to be rendered uncomfortable
+by an ill-founded pride. It is therefore better to carry on
+an easy and civil conversation. A snuff-box, or some polite
+accommodation rendered, may serve for an opening. Talk only
+about generalities,--the play, the roads, the weather. Avoid
+speaking of persons or politics, for, if the individual is of
+the opposite party to yourself, you will be engaged in a
+controversy: if he holds the same opinions, you will be
+overwhelmed with a flood of vulgar intelligence, which may
+soil your mind. Be reservedly civil while the colloquy lasts,
+and let the acquaintance cease with the occasion.
+
+When you are introduced to a gentleman do not give your hand,
+but merely bow with politeness: and if you have requested the
+introduction, or know the person by reputation, you may make
+a speech. I am aware that high authority might easily be
+found in this country to sanction the custom of giving the
+hand upon a first meeting, but it is undoubtedly a solecism
+in manners. The habit has been adopted by us, with some
+improvement for the worse, from France. When two Frenchmen
+are presented to one another, each _presses_ the other's hand
+with delicate affection. The English, however, never do so:
+and the practice, if abstractly correct, is altogether
+inconsistent with the caution of manner which is
+characteristic of their nation and our own. If we are to
+follow the French, in shaking hands with one whom we have
+never before seen, we should certainly imitate them also in
+kissing our _intimate_ male acquaintances. If, however, you
+ought only to bow to a new acquaintance, you surely should do
+more to old ones. If you meet an intimate friend fifty times
+in a morning, give your hand every time,--an observance of
+propriety, which, though worthy of universal adoption, is in
+this country only followed by the purists in politeness. The
+requisitions of etiquette, if they should be obeyed at all,
+should be obeyed fully. This decent formality prevents
+acquaintance from being too distant, while, at the same time,
+it preserves the "familiar" from becoming "vulgar." They may
+be little things, but
+
+"These little things are great to little men."
+
+Goldsmith.
+
+CHAPTER IV. THE DRAWING-ROOM. COMPANY. CONVERSATION.
+
+The grand object for which a gentleman exists, is to excel in
+company. Conversation is the mean of his distinction,--the
+drawing-room the scene of his glory.
+
+When you enter a drawing-room, where there is a ball or a
+party, you salute the lady of the house before speaking to
+any one else. Even your most intimate friends are enveloped
+in an opaque atmosphere until you have made your bow to your
+entertainer. We must take occasion here to obelize a custom
+which prevails too generally in this country. The company
+enter the back door of the back parlour, and the mistress of
+the house is seated at the other extremity of the front
+parlour. It is therefore necessary to traverse the length of
+two rooms in order to reach her. A voyage of this kind is by
+no means an easy undertaking, when there are Circes and
+Calypsos assailing one on every side; and when one has
+reached the conclusion, one cannot perhaps distinguish the
+object of one's search at a _coup d'oeil._ It would be in
+every point of view more appropriate if the lady were to
+stand directly opposite to the door of the back parlour. Such
+is the custom in the best companies abroad. Upon a single
+gentleman entering at a late hour, it is not so obligatory to
+speak first to the mistress of the ceremonies. He may be
+allowed to converge his way up to her. When you leave a room
+before the others, go without speaking to any one, and, if
+possible, unseen.
+
+Never permit the sanctity of the drawing-room to be violated
+by a boot.
+
+Fashionable society is divided into _sets,_ in all of which
+there is some peculiarity of manner, or some dominant tone of
+feeling. It is necessary to study these peculiarities before
+entering the circle.
+
+In each of these sets there is generally some _gentleman,_
+who rules, and gives it its character, or, rather, who is not
+ruler, but the first and most favoured subject, and the prime
+minister of the ladies' will. Him you must endeavour to
+imitate, taking care not to imitate him so well as to excel
+him. To differ in manner or opinion from him is to render
+yourself unfit for that circle. To speak disrespectfully of
+him is to insult personally every lady who composes it.
+
+In company, though none are "free," yet all are "equal." All
+therefore whom you meet, should be treated with equal
+respect, although interest may dictate toward each different
+degrees of attention. It is disrespectful to the inviter to
+shun any of her guests. Those whom she has honoured by asking
+to her house, you should sanction by admitting to your
+acquaintance.
+
+If you meet any one whom you have never heard of before at
+the table of a gentleman, or in the drawing-room of a lady,
+you may converse with him with entire propriety. The form of
+"introduction" is nothing more than a statement by a mutual
+friend that two gentlemen are by rank and manners fit
+acquaintances for one another. All this may be presumed from
+the fact, that both meet at a respectable house. This is the
+theory of the matter. Custom, however, requires that you
+should take the earliest opportunity afterwards to be
+regularly presented to such an one.
+
+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 professions. Do not talk of politics with 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. The one
+considers that "Tous les hommes sont ,gaux devant la
+politesse:" the other remembers that though it may be
+agreeable to be patronised and assisted, yet it is still more
+agreeable to be treated as if you needed no patronage, and
+were above assistance.
+
+Sir Joshua Reynolds once received from two noblemen
+invitations to visit them on Sunday morning. The first, whom
+he waited upon, welcomed him with the most obsequious
+condescension, treated him with all the attention in the
+world, professed that he was so desirous of seeing him, that
+he had mentioned Sunday as the time for his visit, supposing
+him to be too much engaged during the week, to spare time
+enough for the purpose, concluded his compliments by an
+eulogy on painting, and smiled him affectionately to the
+door. Sir Joshua left him, to call upon the other. That one
+received him with respectful civility, and behaved to him as
+he would have behaved to an equal in the peerage:--said
+nothing about Raphael nor Correggio, but conversed with ease
+about literature and men. This nobleman was the Earl of
+Chesterfield. Sir Joshua felt, that though the one had said
+that he respected him, the other had proved that he did, and
+went away from this one gratified rather than from the first.
+Reader, there is wisdom in this anecdote. Mark, learn, and
+inwardly digest it: and let this be the moral which you
+deduce,--that there is distinction in society, but that there
+are no distinctions.
+
+The great business in company is conversation. It should be
+studied as art. Style in conversation is as important, and as
+capable of cultivation as style in writing. The manner of
+saying things is what gives them their value.
+
+The most important requisite for succeeding here, is constant
+and unfaltering attention. That which Churchill has noted as
+the greatest virtue on the stage, is also the most necessary
+in company,--to be "always attentive to the business of the
+scene." Your understanding should, like your person, be armed
+at all points. Never go into society with your mind _en
+deshabille._ It is fatal to success to be all absent or
+_distrait._ The secret of conversation has been said to
+consist in building upon the remark of your companion. Men of
+the strongest minds, who have solitary habits and bookish
+dispositions, rarely excel in sprightly colloquy, because
+they seize upon the _thing_ itself,--the subject abstractly,-
+-instead of attending to the _language_ of other speakers,
+and do not cultivate _verbal_ pleasantries and refinements.
+He who does otherwise gains a reputation for quickness, and
+pleases by showing that he has regarded the observation of
+others.
+
+It is an error to suppose that conversation consists in
+talking. A more important thing is to listen discreetly.
+Mirabeau said, that to succeed in the world, it is necessary
+to submit to be taught many things which you understand, by
+persons who know nothing about them. Flattery is the
+smoothest path to success; and the most refined and
+gratifying compliment you can pay, is to listen. "The wit of
+conversation consists more in finding it in others," says La
+Bruy,re, "than in showing a great deal yourself: he who goes
+from your conversation pleased with himself and his own wit,
+is perfectly well pleased with you. Most men had rather
+please than admire you, and seek less to be instructed,--nay,
+delighted,--than to be approved and applauded. The most
+delicate pleasure is to please another."
+
+It is certainly proper enough to convince others of your
+merits. But the highest idea which you can give a man of your
+own penetration, is to be thoroughly impressed with his.
+
+Patience is a social engine, as well as a Christian virtue.
+To listen, to wait, and to he wearied are the certain
+elements of good fortune.
+
+If there be any foreigner present at a dinner party, or small
+evening party, who does not understand the language which is
+spoken, good breeding requires that the conversation should
+be carried on entirely in his language. Even among your most
+intimate friends, never address any one in a language not
+understood by all the others. It is as bad as whispering.
+
+Never speak to any one in company about a private affair
+which is not understood by others, as asking how _tha_t
+matter is coming on, &c. In so doing you indicate your
+opinion that the rest are _de trop._ If you wish to make any
+such inquiries, always explain to others the business about
+which you inquire, if the subject admit of it.
+
+If upon the entrance of a visitor you continue a conversation
+begun before, you should always explain the subject to the
+new-comer.
+
+If there is any one in the company whom you do not know, be
+careful how you let off any epigrams or pleasant little
+sarcasms. You might be very witty upon halters to a man whose
+father had been hanged. The first requisite for successful
+conversation is to know your company well.
+
+We have spoken above of the necessity of relinquishing the
+prerogative of our race, and being contented with recipient
+silence. There is another precept of a kindred nature to be
+observed, namely, not to talk too well when you do talk. You
+do not raise yourself much in the opinion of another, if at
+the same time that you amuse him, you wound him in the nicest
+point,--his self-love. Besides irritating vanity, a constant
+flow of wit is excessively fatiguing to the listeners. A
+witty man is an agreeable acquaintance, but a tiresome
+friend. "The wit of the company, next to the butt of the
+company," says Mrs. Montagu, "is the meanest person in it.
+The great duty of conversation is to follow suit, as you do
+at whist: if the eldest hand plays the deuce of diamonds, let
+not his next neighbour dash down the king of hearts, because
+his hand is full of honours. I do not love to see a man of
+wit win all the tricks in conversation."
+
+In addressing any one, always look at him; and if there are
+several present, you will please more by directing some
+portion of your conversation, as an anecdote or statement, to
+each one individually in turn. This was the great secret of
+Sheridan's charming manner. His bon-mots were not numerous.
+
+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 lately
+inquired of what branch of medical practice a certain
+gentleman was professor. He held the chair of _midwifery_!
+
+It is indispensable for conversation to be well acquainted
+with the current news and the historical events of the last
+few years. It is not convenient to be quite so far behind the
+rest of the world in such matters, as the Courier des Etats-
+Unis. That sapient journal lately announced the dethronement
+of Charles X. We may expect soon to hear of the accession of
+Louis Philippe.
+
+In society never quote. If you get entangled in a dispute
+with some learned blockhead, you may silence him with a few
+extemporary quotations. Select the author for whom he has the
+greatest admiration, and give him a passage in the style of
+that writer, which most pointedly condemns the opinion he
+supports. If it does not convince him, he will be so much
+stunned with amazement that you can make your escape, and
+avoid the unpleasant necessity of knocking him down.
+
+The ordinary weapons which one employs in social encounter,
+are, whether dignified or not, always at least honourable.
+There are some, however, who habitually prefer to bribe the
+judge, rather than strengthen their cause. The instrument of
+such is flattery. There are, indeed, cases in which a man of
+honour may use the same weapon; as there are cases in which a
+poisoned sword may be employed for self-defence.
+
+Flattery prevails over all, always, and in all places; it
+conquers the conqueror of Dan"e: few are beneath it, none
+above it: the court, the camp, the church, are the scenes of
+its victories, and all mankind the subjects of its triumphs.
+It will be acknowledged, then, that a man possesses no very
+contemptible power who can flatter skillfully.
+
+The power of flattery may be derived from several sources. It
+may be, that the person flattered, finding himself gratified,
+and conscious that it is to the flatterer that he is indebted
+for this gratification, feels an obligation to him, without
+inquiring the reason; or it may be, that imagining ourselves
+to stand high in the good opinion of the one that praises us,
+We comply with what he desires, rather than forfeit that
+esteem: or, finally, flattery may be only a marked
+politeness, and we submit ourselves to the control of the
+flatterer rather than be guilty of the rudeness of opposing
+him.
+
+Flattery never should be direct. It should not be stated, but
+inferred. It is better acted than uttered. Flattery should
+seem to be the unwitting and even unwilling expression of
+genuine admiration. Some very weak persons do not require
+that expressions of praise and esteem toward them should be
+sincere. They are pleased with the incense, although they
+perceive whence it arises: they are pleased that they are of
+importance enough to have their favour courted. But in most
+eases it is necessary that the flattery should appear to be
+the honest offspring of the feelings. _Such_ flattery _must_
+succeed; for, it is founded upon a principle in our nature
+which is as deep as life; namely, that we always love those
+who we think love us.
+
+It is sometimes flattery to accept praises.
+
+Never flatter one person in the presence of another.
+
+Never commend a lady's musical skill to another lady who
+herself plays.
+
+It has often, however, a good effect to praise one man to his
+particular friend, if it be for something to which that
+friend has himself no pretensions.
+
+It is an error to imagine that men are less intoxicated with
+flattery than women. The only difference is that esteem must
+be expressed to women, but proved to men.
+
+Flattery is of course efficacious to obtain positive
+benefits. It is of, more constant use, however, for purposes
+of defence. You conquer an attack of rudeness by courtesy:
+you avert an attack of accusation by flattery. Every:one
+remembers the anecdote of Dr. Johnson and Mr. Ewing.
+"Prince," said Napoleon to Talleyrand, "they tell me that you
+sometimes speculate improperly in the funds. "They do me
+wrong then," said Talleyrand. "But how did you acquire so
+much money!" "I bought stock the day before you were
+proclaimed First Consul," replied the ex-bishop, "and I sold
+it the day after."
+
+Compliments are light skirmishes in the war of flattery, for
+the purpose of obtaining an occasional object. They are
+little false coins that you receive with one hand and pay
+away with the other. To flatter requires a profound knowledge
+of human nature and of the character of your subject; to
+compliment skillfully, it is sufficient that you are a pupil
+of Spurzheim.
+
+It is a common practice with men to abstain from grave
+conversation with women. And the habit is in general
+judicious. If the woman is  young, gay and trifling, talk to
+her only of the latest fashions, the gossip of the day, etc.
+But this in other cases is not to be done. Most women who are
+a little old, particularly married women -- and even some who
+are young -- wish to obtain a reputation for intellect and an
+acquaintance With science. You therefore pay them a real
+compliment, and gratify their self-love, by conversing
+occasionally upon grave matters, which they do not
+understand, and do not really relish. You may interrupt a
+discussion on the beauty of a dahlia, by observing that as
+you know that they take an interest in such things you
+mention the discovery of a new method of analyzing curves of
+double curvature. Men who talk only of trifles will rarely be
+popular with women past twenty-five.
+
+Talk to a mother about her children. Women are never tired of
+hearing of themselves and their children.
+
+If you go to a house where there are children you should take
+especial care to conciliate their good will by a little manly
+_tete-a-tete,_ otherwise you may get a ball against your
+skins, or be tumbled from a three-legged chair.
+
+To be able to converse with women you must study their
+vocabulary. You would make a great mistake in interpreting
+_never, forever,_ as they are explained in Johnson.
+
+Do not be for ever telling a woman that she is handsome,
+witty, etc. She knows that a vast deal better than you do.
+
+Do not allow your love for one woman to prevent your paying
+attention to others. The object of your love is the only one
+who ought to perceive it.
+
+A little pride, which reminds you what is due to yourself,
+and a little good nature, which suggests what is due to
+others, are the pre-requisites for the moral constitution of
+a gentleman.
+
+Too much vivacity and too much inertness are both fatal to
+politeness. By the former we are hurried too far, by the
+latter we are kept too much back.
+
+_Nil admirari,_ the precept of stoicism, is the precept for
+conduct among gentlemen. All excitement must be studiously
+avoided. When you are with ladies the case is different.
+Among them, wonder, astonishment, ecstacy, and enthusiasm,
+are necessary in order to be believed.
+
+Never dispute in the presence of other persons. If a man
+states an opinion which you cannot adopt, say nothing. If he
+states a fact which is of little importance, you may
+carelessly assent. When you differ let it be indirectly;
+rather a want of assent than actual dissent.
+
+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.
+
+It is a point of courtly etiquette which is observed
+rigorously by every one who draws nigh, that a question must
+never be put to a king.
+
+Never ask a question about the price of a thing. This
+horrible error is often committed by a _nouveau riche._
+
+If you have accepted an invitation to a party never fail to
+keep your promise. It is cruel to the lady of the house to
+accept, and then send an apology at the last moment.
+Especially do not break your word on account of bad weather.
+You may be certain that many others will, and the inciter
+will be mortified by the paucity of her guests. A cloak and a
+carriage will secure you from all inconvenience, and you will
+be conferring a real benefit.
+
+CHAPTER V. THE ENTRANCE INTO SOCIETY.
+
+Women, particularly women a little on the decline, are those
+who make the reputation of a young man. When the lustre of
+their distinction begins to fade, a slight feeling of less
+wonted leisure, perhaps a little spite, makes them observe
+attentively those who surround them. Eager to gain new
+admirers, they encourage the first steps of a _debutant_ in
+the career of society, and exert themselves to fit him to do
+honour to their patronage.
+
+A young man, therefore, in entering the world, cannot be too
+attentive to conciliate the goodwill of women. Their
+approbation and support will serve him instead of a thousand
+good qualities. Their judgment dispenses with fortune,
+talent, and even intelligence. "Les hommes font les lois: les
+femmes font les reputations."
+
+The desire of pleasing is, of course, the basis of social
+connexion. Persons who enter society with the intention of
+producing an effect, and of being distinguished, however
+clever they may be, are never agreeable. They are always
+tiresome, and often ridiculous. Persons, who enter life with
+such pretensions, have no opportunity for improving
+themselves and profiting by experience. They are not in a
+proper state to _observe_: indeed, they look only for the
+effect which they produce, and with that they are not often
+gratified. They thrust themselves into all conversations,
+indulge in continual anecdotes, which are varied only by dull
+disquisitions, listen to others with impatience and
+heedlessness, and are angry that they seem to be attending to
+themselves. Such men go through scenes of pleasure, enjoying
+nothing. They are equally disagreeable to themselves and
+others. Young men should, therefore, content themselves with
+being natural. Let them present themselves with a modest
+assurance: let them observe, hear, and examine, and before
+long they will rival their models.
+
+The conversation of those women who are not the most lavishly
+supplied with personal beauty, will be of the most advantage
+to the young aspirant. Such persons have cultivated their
+manners and conversation more than those who can rely upon
+their natural endowments. The absence of pride and pretension
+has improved their good nature and their affability. They are
+not too much occupied in contemplating their own charms, to
+be disposed to indulge in gentle criticism on others. One
+acquires from them an elegance in one's manners as well as
+one's expressions. Their kindness pardons every error, and to
+instruct or reprove, their acts are so delicate that the
+lesson which they give, always without offending, is sure to
+be profitable, though it may be often unperceived.
+
+Women observe all the delicacies of propriety in manners, and
+all the shades of impropriety, much better than men; not only
+because they attend to them earlier and longer, but because
+their perceptions are more refined than those of the other
+sex, who are habitually employed about greater things. Women
+divine, rather than arrive at, proper conclusions.
+
+The whims and caprices of women in society should of course
+be tolerated by men, who themselves require toleration for
+greater inconveniences. But this must not be carried too far.
+There are certain limits to empire which, if they themselves
+forget, should be pointed out to them with delicacy and
+politeness. You should be the slave of women, but not of all
+their fancies.
+
+Compliment is the language of intercourse from men to women.
+But be careful to avoid elaborate and common-place forms of
+gallant speech. Do not strive to make those long eulogies on
+a woman, which have the regularity and nice dependency of a
+proposition in Euclid, and might be fittingly concluded by Q.
+E. D. Do not be always undervaluing her rival in a woman's
+presence, nor mistaking a woman's daughter for her sister.
+These antiquated and exploded attempts denote a person who
+has learned the world more from books than men.
+
+The quality which a young man should most affect in
+intercourse with gentlemen, is a decent modesty: but he must
+avoid all bashfulness or timidity. His flights must not go
+too far; but, so far as they go, let them be marked by
+perfect assurance.
+
+Among persons who are much your seniors behave with the
+utmost respectful deference. As they find themselves sliding
+out of importance they may be easily conciliated by a little
+respect.
+
+By far the most important thing to be attended to, is ease of
+manner. Grace may be added afterwards, or be omitted
+altogether: it is of much less moment than is commonly
+believed. Perfect propriety and entire ease are sufficient
+qualifications for standing in society, and abundant
+prerequisites for distinction.
+
+There is the most delicate shade of difference between
+civility and intrusiveness, familiarity and common-place,
+pleasantry and sharpness, the natural and the rude, gaiety
+and carelessness; hence the inconveniences of society, and
+the errors of its members. To define well in conduct these
+distinctions, is the great art of a man of the world. It is
+easy to know what to do; the difficulty is to know what to
+avoid.
+
+Long usage--a sort of moral magnetism, a tact acquired by
+frequent and long associating with others--alone give those
+qualities which keep one always from error, and entitle him
+to the name of a thorough gentleman.
+
+A young man upon first entering into society should select
+those persons who are most celebrated for the propriety and
+elegance of their manners. He should frequent their company
+and imitate their conduct. There is a disposition inherent,
+in all, which has been noticed by Horace and by Dr. Johnson,
+to imitate faults, because they are more readily observed and
+more easily followed. There are, also, many foibles of manner
+and many refinements of affectation, which sit agreeably upon
+one man, which if adopted by another would become unpleasant.
+There are even some excellences of deportment which would not
+suit another whose character is different. For successful
+imitation in anything, good sense is indispensable. It is
+requisite correctly to appreciate the natural differences
+between your model and yourself, and to introduce such
+modifications in the copy as may be consistent with it.
+
+Let not any man imagine, that he shall easily acquire these
+qualities which will constitute him a gentleman. It is
+necessary not only to exert the highest degree of art, but to
+attain also that higher accomplishment of concealing art. The
+serene and elevated dignity which mark that character, are
+the result of untiring and arduous effort. After the
+sculpture has attained the shape of propriety, it remains to
+smooth off all the marks of the chisel. "A gentleman," says a
+celebrated French author, "is one who has reflected deeply
+upon all the obligations which belong to his station, and who
+has applied himself ardently to fulfil them with grace."
+
+Polite without importunity, gallant without being offensive,
+attentive to the comfort of all; employing a well-regulated
+kindness, witty at the proper times, discreet, indulgent,
+generous, he exercises, in his sphere, a high degree of moral
+authority; he it is, and he alone, that one should imitate.
+
+CHAPTER VI. LETTERS.
+
+Always remember that the terms of compliment at the close of
+a letter--"I have the honour to be your very obedient
+servant," etc. are merely forms--"signifying nothing." Do not
+therefore avoid them on account of pride, or a dislike to the
+person addressed. Do not presume, as some do, to found
+expectations of favour or promotion from great men who
+profess themselves your obliged servant.
+
+In writing a letter of business it is extremely vulgar to use
+satin or glazed gold-edged paper. Always employ, on such
+occasions, plain American paper. Place the date at the top of
+the page, and if you please, the name of the person at the
+top also, just above the 'Sir;' though this last is
+indifferent.
+
+In letters to gentlemen always place the date at the end of
+the letter, below his name. Use the best paper, but not
+figured, and never fail to enclose it in an envelope.
+Attention to these matters is indispensable.
+
+To a person whom you do not know well, say Sir, not 'Dear
+Sir.' It formerly was usual in writing to a distinguished man
+to employ the form 'Respected Sir,' or something of the kind.
+This is now out of fashion.
+
+There are a great many forms observed by the French in their
+letters, which are necessary to be known before addressing
+one of that nation. You will find them in their books upon
+such subjects, or learn them from your French master. One
+custom of theirs is worthy of adoption among us: to
+proportion the distance between the 'Sir' and the first line
+of the letter, to the rank of the person to whom you write.
+Among the French to neglect attending to this would give
+mortal offence. It obtains also in other European nations.
+When the Duke of Buckingham was at the court of Spain, some
+letters passed between the Spanish minister Olivez and
+himself,--the two proudest men on earth. The Spaniard wrote a
+letter to the Englishman, and put the 'Monsieur' on a line
+with the beginning of his letter. The other, in his reply,
+placed the 'Monsieur' a little below it.
+
+A note of invitation or reply is always to be enclosed in an
+envelope.
+
+Wafers are now entirely exploded. A letter of business is
+sealed with red wax, and marked with some common stamp.
+Letters to gentlemen demand red wax sealed with your arms. In
+notes to ladies employ coloured wax, but not perfumed.
+
+CHAPTER VII. VISITS.
+
+Of visits there are various sorts; visits of congratulation,
+visits of condolence, visits of ceremony, visits of
+friendship. To each belong different customs.
+
+A visit and an insult must be always returned.
+
+Visits of ceremony should be very short. Go at some time when
+business demands the employment of every moment. In visits of
+friendship adopt a different course.
+
+If you call to see an acquaintance at lodgings, and cannot
+find any one to announce you, you knock very lightly at the
+door, and wait some time before entering. If you are in too
+great a hurry, you might find the person drawing off a night-
+cap.
+
+Respectable visitors should be received and treated with the
+utmost courtesy. But if a tiresome fellow, after wearying all
+his friends, becomes weary of himself, and arrives to bestow
+his tediousness upon you, pull out your watch with
+restlessness, talk about your great occupations and the value
+of time. Politeness is one thing; to be made a convenience of
+is another.
+
+The style of your conversation should always be in keeping
+with the character of the visit. You must not talk about
+literature in a visit of condolence, nor about political
+economy in a visit of ceremony.
+
+When a lady visits you, upon her retiring, you offer her your
+arm, and conduct her to her carriage. If you are visiting at
+the same time with another lady, you should take leave at the
+same time, and hand her into her carriage.
+
+After a hall, a dinner, or a concert, you visit during the
+week.
+
+Pay the first visit to a friend just returned from a voyage.
+
+Annual visits are paid to persons with whom you have a cool
+acquaintance, They visit you in the autumn, you return a card
+in the spring.
+
+In paying a visit under ordinary circumstances, you leave a
+single card. If there be residing in the family, a married
+daughter, an unmarried sister, a transient guest, or any
+person in a distinct situation from the mistress of the
+house, you leave two cards, one for each party. If you are
+acquainted with only one member of a family, as the husband,
+or the wife, and you wish to indicate that your visit is to
+both, you leave two cards. Ladies have a fashion of pinching
+down one corner of a card to denote that the visit is to only
+one of two parties in a house, and two corners, or one side
+of the card, when the visit is to both; but this is a
+transient mode, and of dubious respectability.
+
+If, in paying a morning visit, you are not recognized when
+you enter, mention your name immediately. If you call to
+visit one member, and you find others only in the parlour,
+introduce yourself to them. Much awkwardness may occur
+through defect of attention to this point.
+
+When a gentleman is about to be married, he sends cards, a
+day or two before the event, to all whom he is in the habit
+of visiting. These visits are never paid in person, but the
+cards sent by a servant, at any hour in the morning; or the
+gentleman goes in a carriage, and sends them in. After
+marriage, some day is appointed and made known to all, as the
+day on which he receives company. His friends then all call
+upon him. Would that this also were performed by cards!
+
+CHAPTER VIII. APPOINTMENTS AND PUNCTUALITY.
+
+When you make an appointment, always be exact in observing
+it. In some places, and on some occasions, a quarter of an
+hour's _grace_ is given. This depends on custom, and it is
+always better not to avail yourself of it. In Philadelphia it
+is necessary to be punctual to a second, for there everybody
+breathes by the State-house clock If you make an appointment
+to meet anywhere, your body must be in a right line with the
+frame of the door at the instant the first stroke of the
+great clock sounds. If you are a moment later, your character
+is gone. It is useless to plead the evidence of your watch,
+or detention by a friend. You read your condemnation in the
+action of the old fellows who, with polite regard to your
+feelings, simultaneously pull out their vast chronometers, as
+you enter. The tardy man is worse off than the murderer. _He_
+may be pardoned by one person, (the Governor); the unpunctual
+is pardoned by none. _Haud inexpectus loquor._
+
+If you make an appointment with another at your own house,
+you should be invisible to the rest of the world, and
+consecrate your time solely to him.
+
+If you make an appointment with a lady, especially if it be
+upon a promenade, or other public place, you must be there a
+little before the time.
+
+If you accept an appointment at the house of a public
+officer, or a man of business, be very punctual, transact the
+affair with despatch, and retire the moment it is finished.
+
+CHAPTER IX. DINNER.
+
+The hour of dinner has been said, by Dr. Johnson, to be the
+most important hour in civilized life. The etiquette of the
+dinner-table has a prominence commensurate with the dignity
+of the ceremony. Like the historian of Peter Bell, we
+commence at the commencement, and thence proceed to the
+moment when you take leave officially, or vanish unseen.
+
+In order to dine, the first requisite is--to be invited. The
+length of time which the invitation precedes the dinner is
+always proportioned to the grandeur of the occasion, and
+varies from two days to two weeks. To an invitation received
+less than two days in advance, you will lose little by
+replying in the negative, for as it was probably sent as soon
+as the preparations of the host commenced, you may be sure
+that there will be little on the table fit to eat. Those
+abominations, y'clept "plain family dinners," eschew like the
+plague.
+
+You reply to a note of invitation immediately, and in the
+most direct and unequivocal terms. If you accept, you arrive
+at the house rigorously at the hour specified. It is equally
+inconvenient to be too late and to be too early. If you fall
+into the latter error, you find every thing in disorder; the
+master of the house is in his dressing-room, changing his
+waistcoat; the lady is still in the pantry; the fire not yet
+lighted in the parlour. If by accident or thoughtlessness you
+arrive too soon, you may pretend that you called to inquire
+the exact hour at which they dine, having mislaid the note,
+and then retire to walk for an appetite. If you are too late,
+the evil is still greater, and indeed almost without a
+remedy. Your delay spoils the dinner and destroys the
+appetite and temper of the guests; and you yourself are so
+much embarrassed at the inconvenience you have occasioned,
+that you commit a thousand errors at table. If you do not
+reach the house until dinner is served, you had better retire
+to a restaurateurs, and thence send an apology, and not
+interrupt the harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and
+cold acceptances.
+
+When the guests have all entered, and been presented to one
+another, if any delay occurs, the conversation should be of
+the lightest and least exciting kind; mere common-places
+about the weather and late arrivals. You should not amuse the
+company by animated relations of one person who has just cut
+his throat from ear to ear, or of another who, the evening
+before, was choked by a tough beef-steak and was buried that
+morning.
+
+When dinner is announced, the inviter rises and requests all
+to walk to the dining-room. He then leads the way, that they
+may not be at a loss to know whither they should proceed.
+Each gentleman offers his arm to a lady, and they follow in
+solemn order.
+
+The great distinction now becomes evident between the host
+and the guests, which distinction it is the chief effort of
+good breeding to remove. To perform faultlessly the honours
+of the table, is one of the most difficult things in society:
+it might indeed be asserted without much fear of
+contradiction, that no man has as yet ever reached exact
+propriety in his office as host, has hit the mean between
+exerting himself too much and too little. His great business
+is to put every one entirely at his ease, to gratify all his
+desires, and make him, in a word, absolutely contented with
+men and things. To accomplish this, he must have the genius
+of tact to perceive, and the genius of finesse to execute;
+ease and frankness of manner; a knowledge of the world that
+nothing can surprise; a calmness of temper that nothing can
+disturb, and a kindness of disposition that can never be
+exhausted. When he receives others, he must be content to
+forget himself; he must relinquish all desire to shine, and
+even all attempts to please his guests by conversation, and
+rather, do all in his power to let them please one another.
+He behaves to them without agitation, without affectation; he
+pays attention without an air of protection; he encourages
+the timid, draws out the silent, and directs conversation
+without Sustaining it himself. He who does not do all this,
+is wanting in his duty as host; he who does, is more than
+mortal.
+
+When all are seated, the gentleman at the head of the table
+sends soup to every one, from the pile of plates which stand
+at his right hand. He helps the person at his right hand
+first, and at his left next, and so through the whole.
+
+There are an immensity of petty usages at the dinner table,
+such as those mentioned in the story of the Abb, Delille and
+the Abb, Cossen in the Introduction to this volume, which it
+would be trifling and tedious to enumerate hers, and which
+will be learned by an observing man after assisting at two or
+three dinners.
+
+You should never ask a gentleman or lady at the table to help
+you to any thing, but always apply to the servants.
+
+Your first duty at the table is to attend to the wants of the
+lady who sits next to you, the second, to attend to your own.
+In performing the first, you should take care that the lady
+has all that she wishes, yet without appearing to direct your
+attention too much to her plate, for nothing is more ill-bred
+than to watch a person eating. If the lady be something of a
+_gourmande,_ and in ever-zealous pursuit of the aroma of the
+wing of a pigeon, should raise an unmanageable portion to her
+mouth, you should cease all conversation with her, and look
+steadfastly into the opposite part of the room.
+
+In France, a dish, after having been placed upon the table
+for approval, is removed by the servants, and carved at a
+sideboard, and after. wards handed to each in succession.
+This is extremely convenient, and worthy of acceptation in
+this country. But unfortunately it does not as yet prevail
+here. Carving therefore becomes an indispensable branch of a
+gentleman's education. You should no more think of going to a
+dinner without a knowledge of this art, than you should think
+of going without your shoes. The gentleman of the house
+selects the various dishes in the order in which they should
+be cut, and invites some particular one to perform the
+office. It is excessively awkward to be obliged to decline,
+yet it is a thing too often occurring in,his country. When
+you carve, you should never rise from your seat.
+
+Some persons, in helping their guests, or recommending dishes
+to their taste, preface every such action with an eulogy on
+its merits, and draw every bottle of wine with an account of
+its virtues. Others, running into the contrary extreme,
+regret or fear that each dish is not exactly as it should be;
+that the cook, etc., etc. Both of these habits are grievous
+errors. You should leave it to your guests alone to approve,
+or suffer one of your intimate friends who is present, to
+vaunt your wine. When you draw a bottle, merely state its age
+and brand, and of what particular vintage it is.
+
+Do not insist upon your guests partaking of particular
+dishes, never ask persons more than once, and never put
+anything by force upon their plates. It is extremely ill-
+bred, though extremely common, to press one to eat of
+anything. You should do all that you can to make your guests
+feel themselves at home, which they never can do while you
+are so constantly forcing upon their minds the recollection
+of the difference between yourself and them. You should never
+send away your own plate until all your guests have finished.
+
+Before the cloth is removed you do not drink wine unless with
+another. If you are asked to take wine it is uncivil to
+refuse. When you drink with another, you catch the person's
+eye and bow with politeness. It is not necessary to say
+anything, but smile with an air of great kindness.
+
+Some one who sits near the lady of the house, should,
+immediately upon the removal of the soup, request the honor
+of drinking wine with her, which movement is the signal for
+all the others. If this is not done, the master of the house
+should select some lady. _He_ never asks gentlemen, but they
+ask him; this is a refined custom, attended to in the best
+company.
+
+If you have drunk with every one at the table, and wish more
+wine, you must wait till the cloth is removed. The decanter
+is then sent round from the head of the table, each person
+fills his glass, and all the company drinks the Health of all
+the company. It is enough if you bow to the master and
+mistress of the house, and to your opposite neighbour. After
+this the ladies retire. Some one rises to open the door for
+them, and they go into the parlour, the gentlemen remaining
+to drink more wine.
+
+After the ladies have retired, the service of the decanters
+is done. The host draws the bottles which have been standing
+in a wine cooler since the commencement of the dinner. The
+bottle goes down the left side and up the right, and the same
+bottle never passes twice. If you do not drink, always pass
+the bottle to your neighbour.
+
+At dinner never call for ale or porter; it is coarse, and
+injures the taste for wine.
+
+It was formerly the custom to drink _porter_ with cheese. One
+of the few real improvements introduced by the "Napoleon of
+the realms of fashion" was to banish this tavern liquor and
+substitute _port._ The dictum of Brummell was thus
+enunciated: "A gentleman never _malts,_ he _ports._"
+
+A gentleman should always express his preference for some one
+sort of wine over others; because, as there is always a
+natural preference for one kind, if you say that you are
+indifferent, you show that you are not accustomed to drink
+wines. Your preference should not of course be guided by your
+real disposition; if you are afflicted by nature with a
+partiality for port, you should never think of indulging it
+except in your closet with your chamber-door locked. The only
+index of choice is fashion;--either permanent fashion (if the
+phrase may be used), or some temporary fashion created by the
+custom of any individual who happens to rule for a season in
+society. Port was drunk by our ancestors, but George the
+Fourth, upon his accession to the regency, announced his
+royal preference for sherry. It has since been fashionable to
+like sherry. This is what we call a _permanent_ fashion.
+
+Champagne wine is drunk after the removal of the first cloth;
+that is to say, between the meats and the dessert. One
+servant goes round and places before each guest a proper-
+shaped glass; another follows and fills them, and they are
+immediately drunk. Sometimes this is done twice in
+succession. The bottle does not again make its appearance,
+and it would excite a stare to ask at a later period for a
+glass of champagne wine.
+
+If you should happen to be blessed with those rely nuisances,
+children, and should be entertaining company, never allow
+them to be brought in after dinner, unless they are
+particularly asked for, and even then it is better to say
+they are at school. Some persons, with the intention of
+paying their court to the father, express great desire to see
+the sons; but they should have some mercy upon the rest of
+the party, particularly  as they know that they themselves
+would be the most disturbed of all, if their urgent entreaty
+was granted.
+
+Never at any time, whether at a formal or a familiar dinner
+party, commit the impropriety of talking to a servant: nor
+ever address any remark about one of them to one of the
+party. Nothing can be more ill-bred. You merely ask for what
+you want in a grave and civil tone, and wait with patience
+till your order is obeyed.
+
+It is a piece of refined coarseness to employ the fingers
+instead of the fork to effect certain operations at the
+dinner table, and on some other similar occasions. To know
+how and when to follow the fashion of Eden, and when that of
+more civilized life, is one of the many points which
+distinguish a gentleman from one not a gentleman; or rather,
+in this case, which shows the difference between a man of the
+world, and one who has not "the tune of the time."* Cardinal
+Richelieu detected an adventurer who passed himself off for a
+nobleman, by his helping himself to olives with a fork. He
+might have applied the test to a vast many other things. Yet,
+on the other hand, a gentleman would lose his reputation, if
+he were to take up a piece of sugar with his fingers and not
+with the sugar-tongs.
+
+* Shakspeare
+
+It is of course needless to say that your own knife should
+never be brought near to the butter, or salt, or to a dish of
+any kind. If, however, a gentleman should send his plate for
+anything near you, and a knife cannot be obtained
+immediately, you may skillfully avoid all censure by using
+_his_ knife to procure it.
+
+When you send your plate for anything, you leave your knife
+and fork upon it, crossed. When you have done, you lay both
+in parallel lines on one side. A render who occupies himself
+about greater matters, may smile at this precept. It may,
+indeed, be very absurd, yet such is the tyranny of custom,
+that if you were to cross your knife and fork when you have
+finished, the most reasonable and strong-minded man at the
+table could not help setting you down, in his own mind, as a
+low-bred person. _Magis sequor quam probo._
+
+The chief matter of consideration at the dinner table, as
+indeed everywhere else in the life of a gentleman, is to be
+perfectly composed and at his ease. He speaks deliberately,
+he performs the most important act of the day as if he were
+performing the most ordinary. Yet there is no appearance of
+trifling or want of gravity in his manner; he maintains the
+dignity which is becoming on so vital an occasion. He
+performs all the ceremonies, yet in the style of one who
+performs no _ceremony_ at all. He goes through all the
+complicated duties of the scene, as if he were "to the manner
+born."
+
+Some persons, who cannot draw the nice distinction between
+too much and too little, desiring to be particularly
+respectable, make a point of appearing unconcerned and quite
+indifferent to enjoyment at dinner. Such conduct not only
+exhibits a want of sense and a profane levity, but is in the
+highest degree rude to your obliging host. He has taken a
+great deal of trouble to give you pleasure, and it is your
+business to be, or at least to appear, pleased. It is one
+thing, indeed, to stare and wonder, and to ask for all the
+delicacies on the table in the style of a person who had
+lived all his life behind a counter, but it is quite another
+to throw into your manner the spirit and gratified air of a
+man who is indeed not unused to such matters, but who yet
+esteems them at their fall value.
+
+When the Duke of Wellington was at Paris, as commander of the
+allied armies, he was invited to dine with Cambaceres, one of
+the most distinguished statesmen and _gourmands_ of the time
+of Napoleon. In the course of the dinner, his host having
+helped him to some particularly _recherche_ dish, expressed a
+hope that he found it agreeable. "Very good," said the hero
+of Waterloo, who was probably speculating upon what he would
+have done if Blucher had not come up: "Very good; but I
+really do not care what I eat." "Good God!" exclaimed
+Cambaceres,--as he started back and dropped his fork, quite
+"frighted from his propriety,"--"Don't care what you eat!
+What _did_ you come here for, then?"
+
+After the wine is finished, you retire to the drawing-room,
+where the ladies are assembled; the master of the house
+rising first from the table, but going out of the room last.
+If you wish to go before this, you must vanish unseen.
+
+We conclude this chapter by a word of important counsel to
+the host:--Never make an apology.
+
+CHAPTER X. TRAVELLING.
+
+It is an extremely difficult affair to travel in a coach,
+with perfect propriety. Ten to one the person next to you is
+an English nobleman _incognito_; and a hundred to one, the
+man opposite to you is a brute or a knave. To behave so that
+you may not be uncivil to the one, nor a dupe to the other,
+is an art of some niceness.
+
+As the seats are assigned to passengers in the order in which
+they are booked, you should send to have your place taken a
+day or two before the journey, so that you may be certain of
+a back seat. It is also advisable to arrive at the place of
+departure early, so that you assume your place without
+dispute.
+
+When women appear at the door of the coach to obtain
+admittance, it is a matter of some question to know exactly
+what conduct it is necessary to pursue. If the women are
+servants, or persons in a low rank of life, I do not see upon
+what ground of politeness or decency you are called upon to
+yield your seat. _Etiquette,_ and the deference due to ladies
+have, of course, no operation in the case of such persons.
+Chivalry--(and the gentleman is the legitimate descendant of
+the knight of old)--was ever a devotion to rank rather than
+to sex. Don Quixotte, or Sir Piercy Shafestone would not
+willingly have given place to servant girls. And upon
+considerations of humanity and regard to weakness, the case
+is no stronger. Such people have nerves considerably more
+robust than you have, and are quite as capable of riding
+backwards, or the top, as yourself. The only reason for
+_politeness_ in the case is, that perhaps the other
+passengers are of the same standing with the women, and might
+eject you from the window if you refuse to give place.
+
+If _ladies_ enter--and a gentleman distinguishes them in an
+instant--the case is altered. The sooner you move the better
+is it for yourself, since the rest will in the end have to
+concede, and you will give yourself a reputation among the
+party and secure a better seat, by rising at once.
+
+The principle that guides you in society is politeness; that
+which guides you in a coach is good humour. You lay aside all
+attention to form, and all strife after effect, and take
+instead, kindness of disposition and a willingness to please.
+You pay a constant regard to the comfort of your. fellow-
+prisoners. You take care not to lean upon the shoulder of
+your neighbour when you sleep. You are attentive not to make
+the stage wait for you at the stopping-places. When the
+ladies get out, you offer them your arm, and you do the same
+when the coachman is driving rapidly over a rough place. You
+should make all the accommodations to others, which you can
+do consistently with your own convenience; for, after all,
+the individuals are each like little nations; and as, in the
+one case, the first duty is to your country, so in the other,
+the first duty is to yourself.
+
+Some surly creatures, upon entering a coach, wrap about their
+persons a great coat of cloth, and about their minds a mantle
+of silence, which are not thrown off during the whole
+journey. This is doing more harm to themselves than to
+others. You should make a point of conversing with an
+appearance of entire freedom, though with real reserve, with
+all those who are so disposed.
+
+One purpose and pleasure of travelling is to gain
+information, and to observe the various characters of
+persons. You will be asked by others about the road you
+passed over, and it will be awkward if you can give no
+account of it. Converse, therefore, with all. Relate amusing
+stories, chiefly of other countries, and even of other times,
+so as not to offend any one. If engaged in discussion--and a
+coach is almost the only place where discussion should _not_
+be avoided--state facts and arguments rather than opinions.
+Never answer impudent questions-and never ask them.
+
+At the meals which occur during a journey, you see beautiful
+exemplification of the _dictum_ of Hobbes, "that war is the
+natural state of man." The entire scene is one of
+unintermitted war of every person with every other person,
+with the viands, and with good manners. You open your mouth
+only to admit edibles and to bellow to the waiters. Your sole
+object is yourself. You drink wine without asking your
+neighbour to join you; and if he should be so silly as to ask
+you to hand him some specified dish, you blandly comply; but
+in the passage to him, you transfer the whole of its contents
+to your own plate. There is no halving in these matters.
+Rapacity, roaring, and rapidity are the three requisites for
+dining during a journey. When you have resumed your seat in
+the coach, you are as bland as a morning in spring.
+
+Never assume any unreal importance in a stage-coach, founded
+on the ignorance of your fellows, and their inability to
+detect it. It is excessively absurd, and can only gratify a
+momentary and foolish vanity; for, whenever you might make
+use of your importance, you would probably be at once
+discovered. There is an admirable paper upon this point in
+one of Johnson's Adventurers.
+
+The friendship which has subsisted between travellers
+terminates with the journey. When you get out, a word, a bow,
+and the most unpleasant act of life is finished and
+forgotten.
+
+CHAPTER XI. BALLS.
+
+Invitations to a ball should be issued at least ten days in
+advance, in order to give an opportunity to the men to clear
+away engagements; and to women, time to prepare the artillery
+of their toilet. Cards of invitation should be sent--not
+notes.
+
+Upon the entrance of ladies, or persons entitled to
+deference, the master of the house precedes them across the
+room: he addresses compliments to them, and will lose his
+life to procure them seats.
+
+While dancing with a lady whom you have never seen before,
+you should not talk to her much.
+
+The master of the ceremonies must take care that every lady
+dances, and press into service for that purpose these young
+gentlemen who are hanging round the room like fossils. If
+desired by him to dance with a particular lady you should
+refuse on no account.
+
+If you have no ear, that is, a false one, never dance.
+
+To usurp the seat of a person who is dancing is the height of
+incivility.
+
+Never go to a public ball.
+
+CHAPTER XII. FUNERALS.
+
+When any member of a family is dead, it is customary to send
+intelligence of the misfortune to all who have been connected
+with the deceased in relations of business or friendship. The
+letters which are sent contain a special invitation to assist
+at the funeral.
+
+An invitation of this sort should never he refused, though,
+of course, you do not send a reply, for no other reason that
+I know of, excepting the impossibility of framing any formula
+of acceptance.
+
+You render yourself at the house an hour or two after the
+time specified. If you were to sit long in the mournful
+circle you might be rendered unfit for doing any thing for a
+week.
+
+Your dress is black, and during the time of waiting you
+compose your visage into a "tristful 'haviour," and lean in
+silent solemnity upon the top of your cane, thinking about--
+last night's party. This is a necessary hypocrisy, and
+assists marvellously the sadness of the ceremony. You walk in
+a procession with the others, your carriage following in the
+street. The first places are yielded to the relations of the
+deceased.
+
+The coffins of persons of distinction are carried in the
+hands of bearers, who walk with their hats off.
+
+You walk with another, in seemly order, and converse in a low
+tone; first upon the property of the defunct, and next upon
+the politics of the day. You walk with the others into the
+church, where service is said over the body. It is optional
+to go to the grave or not. When you go away, you enter your
+carriage and return to your business or your pleasures.
+
+A funeral in the morning, a ball in the evening,"--so runs
+the world away."
+
+CHAPTER XIII. SERVANTS.
+
+Servants are a necessary evil. He who shall contrive to
+obviate their necessity, or remove their inconveniences, will
+render to human comfort a greater benefit than has yet been
+conferred by all the useful-knowledge societies of the age.
+They are domestic spies, who continually embarrass the
+intercourse of the members of a family, or possess themselves
+of private information that renders their presence hateful,
+and their absence dangerous. It is a rare thing to see
+persons who are not controlled by their servants. Theirs,
+too, is not the only kitchen cabinet which begins by serving
+and ends by ruling.
+
+If we judge from the frequency and inconvenience of an
+opposite course, we should say that the most important
+precept to be observed is, never to be afraid of your
+servants. We have known many ladies who, without any reason
+in the world, lived in a state of perfect subjugation to
+their servants, who were afraid to give a direction, and who
+submitted to disobedience and insult, where no danger could
+be apprehended from discharging them.
+
+If a servant offends you by any trifling or occasional
+omission of duty, reprove the fault with mild severity; if
+the error be repeated often, and be of a gross description,
+never hesitate, but discharge the servant instantly, without
+any altercation of language. You cannot easily find another
+who will serve you worse.
+
+As for those precautions which are ordinarily taken, to
+secure the procurence of good servants, they are, without
+exception, utterly useless. The author of the Rambler has
+remarked, that a written _character_ of a servant is worth
+about as much as a discharge from the Old Bailey. I never,
+but once, took any trouble to inquire what reputation a
+servant had held in former situations. On that occasion, I
+heard that I had engaged the very Shakespeare of menials,--
+Aristides was not more honest,--Zeno more truth-telling,--nor
+Abdiel more faithful. This fellow, after insulting me daily
+for a week, disappeared with my watch and three pair of
+boots.
+
+Those offices which profess to recommend good domestics, are
+"bosh,--nothing." In nine cases out of ten, the keepers are
+in league with the servants; and in the tenth, ignorance,
+dishonesty, or carelessness will prevent any benefit
+resulting from,their "intelligence." All that you can do is,
+to take the most decent creature who applies; trust in
+Providence, and lock every thing up.
+
+Never speak harshly, or superciliously, or hastily to a
+servant. There are many little actions which distinguish, to
+the eye of the most careless observer, a gentleman from one
+not a gentleman; but there is none more striking than the
+manner of addressing a servant. Issue your commands with
+gravity and gentleness, and in a reserved manner. Let your
+voice be composed, but avoid a tone of familiarity or
+sympathy with them. It is better in addressing them to use a
+higher key of voice, and not to suffer it to fall at the end
+of a sentence. The best bred man whom we ever had the
+pleasure of meeting, always employed, in addressing servants,
+such forms of speech as these--"I'll thank you for so and
+so,"--" Such a thing, if you please,"--with a gentle tone,
+but very elevated key. The perfection of manner, in this
+particular, is, to indicate by your language, that the
+performance is a favour, and by your tone that it is a matter
+of course.
+
+While, however, you practise the utmost mildness and
+forbearance in your language, avoid the dangerous and common
+error of exercising too great humanity in action. No servant,
+from the time of the first Gibeonite downwards, has ever had
+too much labour imposed upon him; while thousands have been
+ruined by the mistaken kindness of their masters.
+
+Servants should always be allowed, and indeed directed, to go
+to church on Sunday afternoon. For this purpose, dinner is
+served earlier on that day than usual. If it can be
+accomplished, the servants should be induced to attend the
+same church as the family with whom they live; because there
+may be reason to fear that if they profess to go elsewhere,
+they may not go to church at all; and the habit of wandering
+about the streets with idlers, will speedily ruin the best
+servant that ever stood behind a chair.
+
+Servants should be directed to announce visitors. This is
+always done abroad, and is a convenient custom.
+
+Never allow a female servant to enter a parlour. If all the
+male domestics are gone out, it is better that there should
+be no attendance at all.
+
+Some ladies are in the habit of amusing their friends with
+accounts of the difficulty of getting good servants, etc.
+This denotes decided ill breeding. Such subjects should never
+be made topics of conversation.
+
+If a servant offends you by any grossness of conduct, never
+rebuke the offence upon the spot, nor indeed notice it at all
+at the time; for you cannot do it without anger, and without
+giving rise to a _scene._ Prince Puckler Muskaw was, very
+properly, turned out of the Travellers' Club for throwing a
+fork at one of the waiters.
+
+In the house of another, or when there is any company present
+in your own, never converse with the servants. This most
+vulgar, but not uncommon, habit, is judiciously censured in
+that best of novels,--the Zeluco of Dr. Moore.
+
+CHAPTER XIV. FASHION.
+
+Fashion is a tyranny founded only on assumption. The
+principle upon which its influence rests, is one deeply based
+in the human heart, and one which has long been observed and
+long practised upon in every department of life. In the
+literary, the religious, and the political world, it has been
+an assured and very profitable conclusion, that the public,
+
+"Like women, born to be controlled, Stoops to the forward and
+the bold."
+
+"Qui sibi fidit, dux regit examen," is a maxim of universal
+truth. Pococurante, in Candide, was admired for despising
+Homer and Michel Angelo; he would have gained little
+distinction by praising them. The judicious application of
+this rule to society, is the origin of fashion. In despair of
+attaining greatness of quality, it founds its distinction
+only on peculiarity.
+
+We have spoken elsewhere of those complex and very rare
+accomplishments, whose union is requisite to constitute a
+gentleman. We know of but one quality which is demanded for a
+man of fashion,--impudence. An impudence (self-confidence
+"the wise it call") as impenetrable as the gates of
+Pandemonium--a coolness and imperturbability of self-
+admiration, which the boaster in Spencer might envy--a
+contempt of every decency, as such, and an utter
+imperviousness to ridicule,--these are the amiable and
+dignified qualities which serve to rear an empire over the
+weakness and cowardice of men.
+
+To define the character of that which is changing even while
+we survey it, is a task of no small difficulty. We imagine
+that there is only one means by which it may be always
+described, viz., that it consists in an entire avoidance of
+all that is natural and rational. Its essence is affectation;
+effeminacy takes the place of manliness; drawling stupidity,
+of wit; stiffness and hauteur, of ease and civility; and
+self-illustration, of a decent and respectful regard to
+others.
+
+A man of fashion must never allow himself to be pleased.
+Nothing is more decidedly _de mauvais ton_ than any
+expression of delight. He must never laugh, nor, unless his
+penetration is very great, must he even smile; for he might
+by ignorance smile at the wrong place or time. All real
+emotion is to be avoided; all sympathy with the great or the
+beautiful is to be shunned; yet the liveliest feeling may be
+exhibited upon the death of a poodle-dog.
+
+At the house of an acquaintance, he must never praise, nor
+even look, at the pictures, the carpets, the curtains, or the
+ottomans, because if he did, it might be supposed that he was
+not accustomed to such things.
+
+About two years ago, it began to be considered improper to
+pay compliments to women, because if they are not paid
+gracefully they are awkward, and to pay them gracefully is
+difficult. At the present time it is considered dangerous to
+a man's pretensions to fashion, in England, to speak to women
+at all. Women are voted bores, and are to be treated with
+refined rudeness.
+
+There is no possible system of manners that will serve to
+exhibit at once the uncivility and the high refinement which
+should characterize the man of fashion. He must therefore
+have no manners at all. He must behave with tame and passive
+insolence, never breaking into active effrontery excepting
+towards unprotected women and clergymen. Persons of no
+importance he does not see, and is not conscious of their
+existence; those who have the same standing, he treats with
+easy scorn, and he acknowledges the distinction of superiors
+only by patronizing and protecting them. A man of fashion
+does not despise wealth; he cannot but think _that_ valuable
+which procures to others the honour of paying for his
+suppers.
+
+Fashion is so completely distinguished from good breeding,
+that it is even opposed to it. It is in fact a system of
+refined vulgarity. What, for example can be more vulgar than
+incessantly _talkin_g about forms and customs? About silver
+forks and French soup? A gentleman follows these conventional
+habits; but he follows them as matters of course. He looks
+upon them as the ordinary and essential customs of refined
+society. French forks are to him things as indispensable as a
+table-cloth; and he thinks it as unnecessary to insist upon
+the one as upon the other. If he sees a person who eats with
+his knife, he concludes that that person is ignorant of the
+usages of the world, but he does not shriek and faint away
+like a Bond-street dandy. If he dines at a table where there
+are no silver forks, he eats his dinner in perfect propriety
+with steel, and exhibits, neither by manner nor by speech,
+that he perceives any error. To be sure, he forms his own
+opinion about the rank of his entertainer, but he leaves it
+to such new-made gentry as Mr. Theodore Hook, in his vulgar
+fashionable novels, to harangue about such delinquencies. The
+vulgarity of insisting upon these matters is scarcely less
+offensive than the vulgarity of neglecting them. Lady Frances
+Pelham is but one remove better than a Brancton.
+
+A man of fashion never goes to the theatre; he is waiting for
+the opera.
+
+He, of course, goes out of town in the summer; or, if he
+cannot afford to do so, he merely closes his window-shutters,
+and appears to be gone.
+
+Fashion makes all great things little, and all little things
+great.
+
+It is commonly said, that it requires more wit to perform the
+part of the fool in a farce than that of the master. Without
+intending any offence to the fool by the comparison, we may
+remark, that qualities of an elevated character are required
+for the support of the _rol_e of a man of fashion in the
+solemn farce of life. He must have invention, to vary his
+absurdities when they cease to be striking; he must have wit
+enough to obtain the reputation of a great deal more; and he
+must possess tact to know when and where to crouch, and where
+and when to insult.
+
+Brummel, whose career is one of the most extraordinary on
+record, must have exercised, during the period of his social
+reign, many qualities of conduct which rank among the highest
+endowments of our race. For an obscure individual, without
+fortune or rank, to have conceived the idea of placing
+himself at the head of society in a country the most
+thoroughly aristocratic in Europe, relying too upon no other
+weapon than well-directed insolence; for the same individual
+to have triumphed splendidly over the highest and the
+mightiest--to have maintained a contest with royalty itself,
+and to have come off victorious even in that struggle--for
+such an one no ordinary faculties must have been demanded. Of
+the sayings of Brummel which have been preserved, it is
+difficult to distinguish whether they contain real wit, or
+are only so sublimely and so absurdly impudent that they look
+like witty.
+
+We add here a few anecdotes of Brummel, which will serve to
+show, better than any precepts, the style of conduct which a
+man of fashion may pursue.
+
+When Brummel was at the height of his power, he was once, in
+the company of some gentlemen, speaking of the Prince of
+Wales as a very good sort of man, who behaved himself very
+decently, _considering circumstances_; some one present
+offered a wager that he would not dare to give a direction to
+this very good sort of man. Brummel looked astonished at the
+remark, and declined accepting a wager upon such point. They
+happened to be dining with the regent the next-day, and after
+being pretty well fortified. with wine, Brummel interrupted a
+remark of the prince's, by exclaiming very mildly and
+naturally, "Wales, ring the bell!" His royal highness
+immediately obeyed the command, and when the servant entered,
+said to him, with the utmost coolness and firmness, "Show Mr.
+Brummel to his carriage." The dandy was not in the least
+dejected by his expulsion; but meeting the prince regent,
+walking with a gentleman, the next day in the street, he did
+not bow to him, but stopping the other, drew him aside and
+said, in a loud whisper, "Who is that FAT FRIEND of ours?" It
+must be remembered that the object of this sarcasm was at
+that time exceedingly annoyed by his increasing corpulency;
+so manifestly so, that Sheridan remarked, that "though the
+regent professed himself a Whig, he believed that in his
+heart he was no friend to _new measures._"
+
+Shortly after this occurrence at Carlton-House, Brummel
+remarked to one of his friends, that "he had half a mind to
+cut the young one, and bring old George into fashion."
+
+In describing a short visit which he had paid to a nobleman
+in the country, he said, that he had only carried with him a
+night-cap and a silver basin to spit in, "Because, you know,
+it is utterly impossible to spit in clay."
+
+Brummel was once present at a party to which he had not been
+invited. After he had been some time in the room, the
+gentleman of the house, willing to mortify him, went up to
+him and said that he believed that there must be some
+mistake, as he did not recollect having had the honour of
+sending him an invitation. "What is the name?" said the other
+very drawlingly, at the same time affecting to feel in his
+waistcoat pocket for a card. "Johnson," replied the
+gentleman. "Jauhnson?" said Brummel, "oh! I remember now that
+the name was Thaunson (Thompson); and Jauhnson and Thaunson,
+Thaunson and Jauhnson, you know, are so much the same kind of
+thing."
+
+Brummel was once asked how much a year he thought would be
+required to keep a single man in clothes. "Why, with
+tolerable economy," said he, "I think it might be done for
+L800."
+
+He once went down to a gentleman's house in the country,
+without having been asked to do so. He was given to
+understand, the next morning, that his absence would be more
+agreeable, and he took his departure. Some one having heard
+of his discomfiture, asked him how he liked the
+accommodations there. He replied coolly, that "it was a very
+decent house to spend a single night in."
+
+We have mentioned that this dreaded arbiter of modes had
+threatened that he would put the prince regent out of
+fashion. Alas! for the peace of the British monarch, this was
+not an idle boast. His dangerous rival resolved in the
+unfathomable recesses of a mind capacious of such things, to
+commence and to carry on a war whose terror and grandeur
+should astound society, to administer to audacious royalty a
+lesson which should never be forgotten, and finally to
+retire, when retire he must, with mementos of his tremendous
+power around him, and with the mightiest of the earth at his
+feet. Inventive and deliberate were the counsels which he
+meditated; sublime and resolute was the conduct he adopted.
+He decided, with an originality of genius to which the
+conqueror of Marengo might have vailed, that the _neck_ of
+the foe was the point at which the first fatal shaft of his
+excommunicating ire should be hurled. With rapid and decisive
+energy he concentrated all his powers for instantaneous
+action. He retired for a day to the seclusion of solitude, to
+summon and to spur the energies of the most self-reliant mind
+in Europe, as the lion draws back to gather courage for the
+leap. As, like the lion, he drew back; so, like the lion, did
+he spring forward upon his prey. At a ball given by the
+Duchess of Devonshire, when the whole assembly were
+conversing upon his supposed disgrace, and insulting by their
+malevolence one whom they had disgusted by their adulation,
+Brummel suddenly stood in the midst of them. Could it be
+indeed Brummel? Could it be mortal who thus appeared with
+such an encincture of radiant glory about his neck? Every eye
+was upon him, fixed in stupid admiration; every tongue, as it
+slowly recovered from its speechless paralysis, faltered
+forth "what a cravat!" What a cravat indeed! Hundreds that
+had, a moment before, exulted in unwonted freedom, bowed
+before it with the homage of servile adoration. What a
+cravat! There it stood; there was no doubting its entity, no
+believing it an illusion. There it stood, smooth and stiff,
+yet light and almost transparent; delicate as the music of
+Ariel, yet firm as the spirit of Regulus; bending with the
+grace of Apollo's locks, yet erect with the majesty of the
+Olympian Jove: without a wrinkle, without an indentation.
+What a cravat! The regent "saw and shook;" and uttering a
+faint gurgle from beneath the wadded bag which surrounded his
+royal thorax, he was heard to whisper with dismay, "D--n him!
+what a cravat!" The triumph was complete.
+
+It is stated, upon what authority we know not, that his royal
+highness, after passing a sleepless night in vain
+conjectures, despatched at an early hour, one of his privy-
+counsellors to Brummel, offering _carte blanche_ if he would
+disclose the secret of that mysterious cravat. But the
+"_atrox animus Catonis_" disdained the bribe. He preferred
+being supplicated, to being bought, by kings. "Go," said he
+to the messenger, with the spirit of Marius mantling in his
+veins, "Go, and tell _you_r master that you have seen _his_
+master."
+
+For the truth of another anecdote, connected with this
+cravat, we have indisputable evidence. A young nobleman of
+distinguished talents and high pretensions as to fortune and
+rank, saw this fatal band, and eager to advance himself in
+the rolls of fashion, retired to his chamber to endeavour to
+penetrate the method of its construction. He tried every sort
+of known, and many sorts of unknown stiffeners to accomplish
+the end--paper and pasteboard, and wadding, shavings, and
+shingles, and planks,--all were vainly experienced. Gargantua
+could not have exhibited a greater invention of expedients
+than he did; but vainly. After a fortnight of the closest
+application, ardour of study and anxiety of mind combined,
+brought him to the brink of the grave. His mother having
+ascertained the origin of his complaint, waited upon Brummel,
+who was the only living man that could remove it. She
+implored him, by every human motive, to say but one word, to
+save the life of her son and prevent her own misery. But the
+tyrant was immoveable, and the young man expired a victim of
+his sternness.
+
+When, at length, yielding to that strong necessity which no
+man can control, Brummel was obliged, like Napoleon, to
+abdicate, the mystery of that mighty cravat was unfolded.
+There was found, after his departure to Calais, written on
+sheet of paper upon his table, the following epigram of
+scorn: "STARCH IS THE MAN." The cravat of Brummel was merely-
+-starched! Henceforth starch was introduced into every cravat
+in Europe.
+
+Brummel still lives, an obscure consul in a petty European
+town.
+
+Physically there is something to command our admiration in
+the history of a man who thus lays at his mercy all ranks of
+men,--the lofty and the low, the great, the powerful and the
+vain: but morally and seriously, no character is more
+despicable than that of the mere man of fashion, Seeking
+nothing but notoriety, his path to that end is over the ruins
+of all that is worthy in our nature. He knows virtue only to
+despise it; he makes himself acquainted with human feelings
+only to outrage them. He commences his career beyond the
+limits of decency, and ends it far in the regions of infamy.
+Feared by all and respected by none, hated by his worshippers
+and despised by himself, he rules,--an object of pity and
+contempt: and when his power is past, his existence is
+forgotten; he lives on in an, oblivion which is to him worse
+than death, and the stings of memory goad him to the grave.
+
+The devotee of fashion is a trifler unworthy of his race; the
+_mere_ gentleman is a character which may in time become
+somewhat tiresome; there is a just mean between the two,
+where a better conduct than either is to be found. It is that
+of a man who, yielding to others, still maintains his self-
+respect, and whose concessions to folly are controlled by
+good sense; who remembers the value of trifles without
+forgetting the importance of duties, and resolves so to
+regulate his conduct that neither others may be offended by
+his stiffness, nor himself have to regret his levity.
+
+Live therefore among men--to conclude our homily after the
+manner of Quarles--live therefore among men, like them, yet
+not disliking thyself; and let the hues of fashion be
+reflected from thee, but let them not enter and colour thee
+within.
+
+CHAPTER VIII. MISCELLANEOUS.
+
+There is nothing more ill bred in the world than continual
+talking about good breeding.
+
+You should never employ the word "_genteel_;" the proper word
+is "_respectable._"
+
+If you are walking down the street with another person on
+your arm, and stop to say something to one of your friends,
+do not commit the too common and most awkward error of
+introducing such persons to one another. Never introduce
+morning visitors, who happen to meet in your parlour without
+being acquainted. If _you_ should be so introduced, remember
+that the acquaintance afterwards goes for nothing: you have
+not the slightest right to expect that the other should ever
+speak to you.
+
+If you wish to be introduced to a lady, you must always have
+her consent previously asked; this formality it is not
+necessary to observe in the case of gentlemen alone.
+
+Presents are the gauge of friendship. They also serve to
+increase it, and give it permanence.
+
+Among friends presents ought to be made of things of small
+value; or, if valuable, their worth should be derived from
+the style of the workmanship, or from some accidental
+circumstance, rather than from the inherent and solid
+richness. Especially never offer to a lady a gift of great
+cost: it is in the highest degree indelicate, and looks as if
+you were desirous of placing her under an obligation to you,
+and of buying her good will. The gifts made by ladies to
+gentlemen are of the most refined nature possible: they
+should be little articles not purchased, but deriving a
+priceless value as being the offspring of their gentle skill;
+a little picture from their pencil, or a trifle from their
+needle.
+
+To persons much your superiors, or gentlemen whom you do not
+know intimately, there is but one species of appropriate
+present--game.
+
+If you make a present, and it is praised by the receiver, you
+should not yourself commence undervaluing it. If one is
+offered to you, always accept it; and however small it may
+be, receive it with civil and expressed thanks, without any
+kind of affectation. Avoid all such deprecatory phrases, as
+"I fear I rob you," etc.
+
+To children, the only presents which you offer are sugar-
+plums and bon-bons.
+
+Avoid the habit of employing French words in English
+conversation; it is in extremely bad taste to be always
+employing 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 speaking of French cities and towns, it is a mark of
+refinement in education to pronounce them rigidly according
+to English rules of speech. Mr. Fox, the best French scholar,
+and one of the best bred men in England, always sounded the x
+in _Bourdeaux,_ and the s in Calais, and on all occasions
+pronounced such names just as they are written.
+
+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.
+
+A certain degree of reserve, or the appearance of it, should
+be maintained in your intercourse with your most intimate
+friends. To ordinary acquaintances retain the utmost reserve-
+-never allowing them to read your feelings, not, on the other
+hand, attempting to take any liberties with them. Familiarity
+of manner is the greatest vice of society. "Ah! allow me, my
+dear fellow," says a rough voice, and at the same moment a
+thumb and finger are extended into my snuff-box, which, in
+removing their prey drop half of it upon my clothes,--I look
+up, and recognize a person to whom I was introduced by
+mistake last night at the opera. I would be glad to have less
+fellowship with such _fellows._ In former times great
+philosophers were said to have demons for familiars,--thereby
+indicating that a familiar man is the very devil.
+
+Remember, that all deviations from prescribed forms, on
+common occasions, are vulgar; such as sending invitations, or
+replies, couched in some unusual forms of speech. Always
+adhere to the immemorial phrase,--"Mrs. X. requests the
+honour of Mr, Y.'s company," and "Mr. Y. has the honour of
+accepting Mrs. X.'s polite invitation." Never introduce
+persons with any outlandish or new-coined expressions; but
+perform the operation with mathematical precision--"Mr. A.,
+Mr. A'; Mr. A', Mr. A."
+
+When two gentlemen are walking with a lady in the street,
+they should not be both upon the same side of her, but one of
+them should walk upon the outside and the other upon the
+inside.
+
+When you walk with a lady, even if the lady be young and
+unmarried, offer your arm to her. This is always done in
+France, and is practised in this country by the best bred
+persons. To be sure, this is done only to married women in
+France, because unmarried women never walk alone with
+gentlemen, but as in America the latter have the same freedom
+as the former, this custom should here be extended to them.
+
+If you are walking with a woman who has your arm, and you
+cross the street, it is better not to disengage your arm, and
+go round upon the outside. Such effort evinces a palpable
+attention to form, and _that_ is always to be avoided.
+
+A woman should never take the arms of two men, one being upon
+either side; nor should a man carry a woman upon each arm.
+The latter of these iniquities is practised only in Ireland;
+the former perhaps in Kamskatcha. There are, to be sure, some
+cases in which it is necessary for the protection of the
+women, that they should both take his arm, as in coming home
+from a concert, or in passing, on any occasion, through a
+crowd.
+
+When you receive company in your own house, you should never
+be much dressed. This is a circumstance of the first
+importance in good breeding.
+
+A gentleman should never use perfumes; they are agreeable,
+however, upon ladies.
+
+Avoid the use of proverbs in conversation, and all sorts of
+cant phrases. This error is, I believe, censured by Lord
+Chesterfield, and is one of the most offensively vulgar
+things which a person can commit. We have frequently been
+astonished to hear such a slang phrase as "the whole hog"
+used by persons who had pretensions to very superior
+standing. We would be disposed to apply to such an expression
+a criticism of Dr. Johnson's, which rivals it in Coarseness:
+"It has not enough salt to keep it from stinking, enough wit
+to prevent its being offensive." We do not wish to advocate
+any false refinement, or to encourage any cockney delicacy:
+but we may be decent without being affected. The stable
+language and raft humour of Crockett and Downing may do very
+well to amuse one in a morning paper, but it exhibits little
+wit and less good sense to adopt them in the drawing-room.
+This matter should be "reformed altogether."
+
+If a plate be sent to you, at dinner, by the master or
+mistress of the house, you should always take it, without
+offering it to all your neighbours as was in older times
+considered necessary. The spirit of antique manners consisted
+in exhibiting an attention to ceremony; the spirit of modern
+manners consists in avoiding all possible appearance of form.
+The old custom of deferring punctiliously to others was
+awkward and inconvenient. For, the person, in favor of whom
+the courtesy was shown, shocked at the idea of being exceeded
+in politeness, of course declined it, and a plate was thus
+often kept vibrating between two bowing mandarins, till its
+contents were cold, and the victims of ceremony were deprived
+of their dinner. In a case like this, to reverse the decision
+which the host has made as to the relative standing of his
+guests, is but a poor compliment to him, as it seems to
+reprove his choice, and may, besides, materially interfere
+with his arrangements by rendering _unhelped_ a person whom
+he supposes attended to.
+
+The same avoidance of too much attention to yielding place is
+proper in most other cases. Shenstone, in some clever verses,
+has ridiculed the folly; and Goldsmith, in his "Vicar," has
+censured the inconvenience, of such outrageous formality.
+These things are now managed better. One person yields and
+another accepts without any controversy.
+
+When you are helped to anything at a dinner table, do not
+wait, with your plate untouched, until others have begun to
+eat. This stiff-piece of mannerism is often occurring in the
+country, and indeed among all persons who are not thoroughly
+bred. As soon as your plate is placed before you, you should
+take up your knife and arrange the table furniture around
+you, if you do not actually eat.
+
+As to the instruments by which the operation of dining is
+conducted, it is a matter of much consequence that entire
+propriety should be observed as to their use. We have said
+nothing about the use of silver forks, because we do not
+write for savages; and where, excepting among savages, shall
+we find any who at present eat with other than a French
+fork?. There are occasionally to be found some ancients,
+gentlemen of the old school, as it is termed, who persist in
+preferring steel, and who will insist on calling for a steel
+fork if there is none on the table. They consider the modem
+custom an affectation, and deem that all affectation should
+be avoided. They tread upon the pride of Plato, with more
+pride. There is often affectation in shunning affectation. It
+is better in things not material to submit to the established
+habits, especially when, as in the present case, the balance
+of convenience is decidedly on the part of fashion. The
+ordinary custom among well bred persons, is as follows:--soup
+is taken with a spoon. Some foolish _fashionables_ employ a
+fork! They might as well make use of a broomstick. The fish
+which follows is eaten with a fork, a knife not being used at
+all. The fork is held in the right hand, and a piece of bread
+in the left. For any dish in which cutting is not
+indispensable, the same arrangement is correct. When you have
+upon your plate, before the dessert, anything partially
+liquid, or any sauces, you must not take them up with a
+knife, but with a piece of bread, which is to be saturated
+with the juices, and then lifted to the mouth. If such an
+article forms part of the dessert, you should eat it with a
+spoon. In carving, steel instruments alone are employed. For
+fowls a peculiar knife is used, having the blade short and
+the handle very long. For fish a broad and pierced silver
+blade is used.
+
+A dinner--we allude to _dinner-parties_--in this country, is
+generally despatched with too much hurry. We do not mean,
+that persons commonly eat too fast, but that the courses
+succeed one another too precipitately. Dinner is the last
+operation of the day, and there is no subsequent business
+which demands haste. It is usually intended, especially when
+there are no ladies, to sit at the table till nine, ten, or
+eleven o'clock, and it is more agreeable that the _eating_
+should be prolonged through a considerable portion of the
+entire time. The conveniences of digestion also require more
+deliberation, and it would therefore not be unpleasant if an
+interval of a quarter of an hour or half an hour were allowed
+to intervene between the meats and the dessert.
+
+At dinner, avoid taking upon your plate too many things at
+once. One variety of meat and one kind of vegetable is the
+_maximum._ When you take another sort of meat, or any dish
+not properly a vegetable, you always change your plate.
+
+The fashion of dining inordinately late in this country is
+foolish. It is borrowed from England without any regard to
+the difference in circumstances between the two nations. In
+London, the whole system of daily duties is much later. The
+fact of parliament's sitting during the evening and not in
+the morning, tends to remove the active part of the day to a
+much more advanced hour. When persons rise at ten or two
+o'clock, it is not to be expected that they should dine till
+eight or twelve in the evening. There is nothing of this sort
+in France. There they dine at three, or earlier. We have
+known some fashionable dinners in different cities in this
+country at so late an hour as eight or nine o'clock. This is
+absurd, where the persons have all breakfasted at eight in
+the morning. From four o'clock till five varies the proper
+hour for a dinner party here.
+
+Never talk about politics at a dinner table or in a drawing
+room.
+
+When you are going into a company it is of advantage to run
+over in your mind, beforehand, the topics of conversation
+which you intend to bring up, and to arrange the manner in
+which you will introduce them. You may also refresh your
+general ideas upon the subjects, and run through the details
+of the few very brief and sprightly anecdotes which you are
+going to repeat; and also have in readiness one or two
+brilliant phrases or striking words which you will use upon
+occasion. Further than this it is dangerous to make much
+preparation. If you commit to memory long speeches with the
+design of delivering them, your conversation will  become
+formal, and you will be negligent of the observations of your
+company. It will tend also to impair that habit of readiness
+and quickness which it is necessary to cultivate in order to
+be agreeable.
+
+You must be very careful that you do not repeat the same
+anecdotes or let off the same good things twice to the same
+person. Richard Sharpe, the "conversationist" as he was
+called in London, kept a regular book of entry, in which he
+recorded where and before whom he had uttered severally his
+choice sayings. The celebrated Bubb Doddington prepared a
+manuscript book of original _faceti',_ which he was
+accustomed to read over when he expected any distinguished
+company, trusting to an excellent memory to preserve him from
+iteration.
+
+If you accompany your wife to a ball, be very careful not to
+dance with her.
+
+The lady who gives a ball dances but little, and always
+selects her partners.
+
+If you are visited by any company whom you wish to drive away
+forever, or any friends whom you wish to alienate, entertain
+them by reading to them your own productions.
+
+If you ask a lady to dance, and she is engaged, do not prefer
+a request for her hand at the next set after that, because
+she may be engaged for that also, and for many more; and you
+would have to run through a long list of interrogatories,
+which would be absurd and awkward.
+
+A gentleman must not expect to shine in society, even the
+most frivolous, without a considerable stock of knowledge. He
+must be acquainted with facts rather than principles. He
+needs no very sublime sciences; but a knowledge of biography
+and literary history, of the fine arts, as painting,
+engraving, music, etc., will be of great service to him.
+
+Some men are always seen in the streets with an umbrella
+under their arm. Such a foible may be permitted to such men
+as Mr. Southey and the Duke of Wellington: but in ordinary
+men it looks like affectation, and the monotony is
+exceedingly _boring_ to the sight.
+
+To applaud at a play is not _fashionable_; but it is
+_respectable_ to evince by a gentle concurrence of one finger
+and a hand that you perceive and enjoy a good stroke in an
+actor.
+
+If you are at a concert, or a private musical party, never
+beat time with your feet or your cane. Nothing is more
+unpleasant.
+
+Few things are more agreeable or more difficult, than to
+relate anecdotes with entire propriety. They should be
+introduced gracefully, have fit connexion with the previous
+remarks, and be in perfect keeping with the company, the
+subject and the tone of the conversation; they should be
+short, witty and eloquent, and they should be new but not
+far-fetched.
+
+In rapid and eager discourse, when persons are excited and
+impatient, as at a ball or in a promenade, repeat nothing but
+the spirit and soul of a story, leaping over the particulars.
+There are however many places and occasions in which you may
+bring out the details with advantage, precisely, but not
+tediously. When you repeat a true story be always extremely
+exact. Mem. Not to forget the point of your story, like most
+narrators.
+
+When you are telling a flat anecdote by mistake, laugh
+egregiously, that others may do the same: when you repeat a
+spirited and striking bon mot, be grave and composed, in
+order that others may not be the same.
+
+For one who has travelled much, to hit the proper medium
+between too much reserve and too much intrusion, on the
+subject of his adventures, is not easy. Such a person is
+expected to give amusement by pleasant histories of his
+travels, and it is agreeable that he should do so, yet with
+moderation; he should not reply to every remark by a memoir,
+commencing, "When I was in Japan."
+
+Rampant witticisms which require one to laugh, are apt to
+grow fatiguing: it is better to have a sprightly and amusing
+vein running through your conversation, which, betraying no
+effort, allows one to be grave without offence, or to smile
+without pain.
+
+Punning is now decidedly out of date. It is a silly and
+displeasing thing, when it becomes a habit. Some one has
+called it the wit of fools. It is within the reach of the
+most trifling, and is often used by them to puzzle and
+degrade the wise. Whatever may be its merits, it is now out
+of fashion.
+
+It is respectable to go to church once on Sunday. When you
+are there, behave with decency. You should never walk in
+fashionable places on Sunday afternoon. It is notoriously
+vulgar. If your health requires you to take the air, you
+should seek some retired street.
+
+In conversation avoid such phrases as "My _dear_ sir or
+madam."
+
+A gentleman is distinguished as much by his composure as by
+any other quality. His exertions are always subdued, and his
+efforts easy. He is never surprised into an exclamation or
+startled by anything. Throughout life he avoids what the
+French call _scenes,_ occasions of exhibition, in which the
+vulgar delight. He of course has feelings, but he never
+exhibits any to the world. He hears of the death of his
+pointer or the loss of an estate with entire calmness when
+others are present.
+
+It is very difficult for a literary man to preserve the
+perfect manners and exact semblance of a gentleman. He must
+be able to throw aside all the qualities which authorship
+tends to stamp so deeply upon him, and thoroughly to despise
+the cant of the profession. Yet this must be done without any
+affectation. Upon the whole, unless he has rare tact, he will
+please as much by going into company with all the marks of
+his employment upon his manners, than by awkwardly attempting
+to throw off his load. One would rather see a man with his
+fingers inked, than to see him nervously striving to cover
+them with a tattered kid glove. As to literary ladies, they
+make up their minds to sacrifice all present and personal
+admiration for future and abiding renown.
+
+It is not considered fashionable to carry a watch. What has a
+fashionable man to do with time? Besides he never goes into
+those obscure parts of the town where there are no public
+clocks, and his servant will tell him when it is time to
+dress for dinner. A gentleman carries his watch in his
+pantaloons with a plain black ribbon attached. It is only
+worthy of a shop-boy to put it in his waistcoat pocket.
+
+Custom allows to men the privilege of taking snuff, however
+unneat this habit may appear. If you affect the "tangible
+smell," always take it from a box, and not from your
+waistcoat pocket or a paper. The common opinion, that
+Napoleon took snuff from his pocket, (which fact, by the way,
+is denied by Bourrienne,) has for ever driven this convenient
+custom from the practice of gentlemen, for the same reason
+that Lord Byron's anti-neckcloth fashion has compelled every
+man of sense to bind a cravat religiously about his throat.
+As to taking snuff from a paper, it is vile.
+
+Women should abstain most scrupulously from tobacco, for
+nothing can be more fatal to their divinity: they should at
+least avoid it until past fifty;--that is to say, if a woman
+past fifty can anywhere be found. Chewing is permitted only
+to galley-slaves and metaphysicians.
+
+It was a favourite maxim of Rivarol, "Do you wish to succeed?
+Cite proper names." Rivarol is dead in exile, having left
+behind him little property and less reputation. Judging from
+all experience, if we were to frame an extreme maxim, it
+should be, "If you wish to succeed never cite a proper name."
+It will make you agreeable and hated. Your conversation will
+be listened to with interest, and your company shunned with
+horror. You will obtain the reputation of a gossip and a
+scandal-bearer, and you will soon be obliged either to
+purchase a razor or apply for a passport. If you are holding
+a tete-a-tete with a notorious Mrs. Candour, then, indeed,
+your tongue should be as sharp and nimble as the forked
+lightning. You must beat her at her own weapons, and convince
+her that it would be dangerous to traduce your character to
+others.
+
+A bachelor is a person who enjoys everything and pays for
+nothing; a married man is one that pays for everything and
+enjoys nothing. The one drives a sulky through life, and is
+not expected to take care of any one but himself: the other
+keeps a carriage, which is always too full to afford him a
+comfortable seat. Be cautious then how you exchange your
+sulky for a carriage.
+
+In ordinary conversation about persons employ the expressions
+_men_ and _women_; _gentleman_ and _lady_ are _distinctive_
+appellations, and not to be used upon general occasions.
+
+You should say _forte-piano,_ not _piano-forte_: and the
+_street door,_ not the _front door._
+
+"A man may have virtue, capacity, and good conduct," says La
+Bruy,re, "and yet be insupportable; the air and manner which
+we neglect, as little things, are frequently what the world
+judges us by, and makes them decide for or against us."
+
+In your intercourse with the world you must take persons as
+they are, and society as you find it. You must never oppose
+the one, nor attempt to alter the other. Society is a
+harlequin stage, upon which you never appear in your own
+dress nor without a mask. Keep your real dispositions for
+your fireside, and your real character for your private
+friend. In public, never differ from anybody, nor from
+anything. The _agreeable_ man is one who _agrees._
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
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