Manners and Social Usages by Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📕
Now the question comes up, and here doctors disagree: When may alady call by proxy, or when may she send her card, or when mustshe call in person?
After a dinner-party a guest must call in person and inquire ifthe hostess is at home. For other entertainments it is allowed, inNew York, that the lady call by proxy, or that she simply send hercard. In sending to inquire for a person's health, cards may besent by a servant, with a kindly message.
No first visit should, however, be returned by card only; thiswould be considered a slight, unless followed by an invitation.The size of New York, the great distances, the busy life of awoman of charities, large family, and immense circle ofacquaintances may render a pers
Read free book «Manners and Social Usages by Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📕» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood
- Performer: -
Read book online «Manners and Social Usages by Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📕». Author - Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood
rocking-chair violently fanning herself. She learns that this is
the landlady. She asks if she can have a room, some hot water,
etc. The answer may be, “I don’t know; I don’t have to work;
perhaps Jim will tell you.” And it is to the man of the house that
the traveller must apply. It is a favorable sign that American men
are never ashamed to labor, although they may not overflow with
civility. It is a very unfavorable sign for the women of America
when they are afraid or ashamed of work, and when they hesitate to
do that which is nearest them with civility and interest.
Another test of self-respect, and one which is sometimes lacking
in those whom the world calls fashionable, those who have the
possessions which the majority of us desire, fine houses, fine
clothes, wealth, good position, etc., is the lack or the presence
of “fine courtesy,” which shall treat every one so that he or she
is entirely at ease.
“Society is the intercourse of persons on a footing of apparent
equality,” and if so, any one in it who treats other people so as
to make them uncomfortable is manifestly unfit for society. Now an
optional courtesy should be the unfailing custom of such a woman,
we will say, one who has the power of giving pain by a slight, who
can wound amour propre in the shy, can make a d�butante
stammer and blush, can annoy a shy youth by a sneer. How many a
girl has had her society life ruined by the cruelty of a society
leader! how many a young man has had his blood frozen by a
contemptuous smile at his awkwardness! How much of the native
goodwill of an impulsive person has been frozen into a caustic
and sardonic temper by the lack of a little optional civility? The
servant who comes for a place, and seats herself while the lady
who speaks to her is standing, is wanting in optional civility.
She sins from ignorance, and should be kindly told of her offence,
and taught better manners. The rich woman who treats a guest
impolitely, the landlady who sits in her rocking-chair while the
traveller waits for those comforts which her house of call
invites, all are guilty of the same offence. It hurts the landlady
and the servant more nearly than it does the rich woman, because
it renders their self-imposed task of getting a living the more
difficult, but it is equally reprehensible in all three.
Good manners are said to be the result of a kind heart and careful
home training; bad manners, the result of a coarse nature and
unwise training. We are prone to believe that bad manners in
Americans are almost purely from want of thought. There is no more
generous, kindly, or better people in the world than the standard
American, but he is often an untrained creature. The thousands of
emigrants who land on our shores, with privileges which they never
thought to have thrust upon them, how can they immediately learn
good manners? In the Old World tradition of power is still so
fresh that they have to learn respect for their employers there.
Here there are no such traditions.
The first duty, then, it would seem, both for those to whom
fortune has been kind and for those who are still courting her
favors, would be to study optional civility; not only the
decencies of life, but a little more. Not only be virtuous, but
have the shadows of virtue. Be polite, be engaging; give a cordial
bow, a gracious smile; make sunshine in a shady place. Begin at
home with your optional civility. Not only avoid those serious
breaches of manners which should cause a man to kick another man
down-stairs, but go further than good manners—have better
manners. Let men raise their hats to women, give up seats in cars,
kiss the hand of an elderly lady if she confers the honor of her
acquaintance upon them, protect the weak, assist the fallen, and
cultivate civility; in every class of life this would oil the
wheels; and especially let American women seek to mend their
manners.
Optional civility does not in any way include familiarity. We
doubt whether it is not the best of all armor against it.
Familiarity is “bad style.” It is not civility which causes one
lady to say to another, “Your bonnet is very unbecoming; let me
beg of you to go to another milliner.” That is familiarity, which
however much it may be supposed to be excess of friendship, is
generally either caused by spite or by a deficiency of respect The
latter is never pardonable. It is in doubtful taste to warn people
of their faults, to comment upon their lack of taste, to carry
them disagreeable tidings, under the name of friendship. On the
Continent, where diffidence is unknown, where a man, whoever he
may be, has a right to speak to his fellow-man (if he does it
civilly), where a woman finds other women much more polite to her
than women are to each other in this country, there is no
familiarity. It is almost an insult to touch the person; for
instance, no one places his hand on the arm or shoulder of another
person unless there is the closest intimacy; but everywhere there
is an optional civility freely given between poor and poor, rich
and poor, rich and rich, superiors and inferiors, between equals.
It would be pleasant to follow this out in detail, the results are
so agreeable and so honorable.
CHAPTER III.
GOOD AND BAD SOCIETY.
Many of our correspondents ask us to define what is meant by the
terms “good society” and “bad society.” They say that they read in
the newspapers of the “good society” in New York and Washington
and Newport, and that it is a record of drunkenness, flirtation,
bad manners and gossip, backbiting, divorce, and slander. They
read that the fashionable people at popular resorts commit all
sorts of vulgarities, such as talking aloud at the opera, and
disturbing their neighbors; that young men go to a dinner, get
drunk, and break glasses; and one ingenuous young girl remarks,
“We do not call that good society in Atlanta.”
Such a letter might have been written to that careful chronicler
of “good society” in the days of Charles II., old Pepys of courtly
fame. The young maiden of Hertfordshire, far from the Court, might
well have thought of Rochester and such “gay sparks,” and the
ladies who threw glasses of wine at them, as not altogether
well-bred, nor entitled to admission into “good society.” We
cannot blame her.
It is the old story. Where, too, as in our land, pleasure and
luxury rule a certain set who enjoy no tradition of good manners,
the contradiction in terms is the more apparent. Even the external
forms of respect to good manners are wanting. No such overt
vulgarity, for instance, as talking aloud at the opera will ever
be endured in London, because a powerful class of really well-born
and well-bred people will hiss it down, and insist on the quiet
which music, of all other things, demands. That is what we mean by
a tradition of good manners.
In humbler society, we may say as in the household of a Scotch
peasant, such as was the father of Carlyle, the breaches of
manners which are often seen in fashionable society would never
occur. They would appear perfectly impossible to a person who had
a really good heart and a gentle nature. The manners of a young
man of fashion who keeps his hat on when speaking to a lady, who
would smoke in her face, and would appear indifferent to her
comfort at a supper-table, who would be contradictory and
neglectful—such manners would have been impossible to Thomas or
John Carlyle, reared as they were in the humblest poverty. It was
the “London swell” who dared to be rude in their day as now.
But this impertinence and arrogance of fashion should not prevent
the son of a Scotch peasant from acquiring, or attempting to
acquire, the conventional habits and manners of a gentleman. If he
have already the grace of high culture, he should seek to add to
it the knowledge of social laws, which will render him an
agreeable person to be met in society. He must learn how to write
a graceful note, and to answer his invitations promptly; he must
learn the etiquette of dress and of leaving cards; he must learn
how to eat his dinner gracefully, and, even if he sees in good
society men of external polish guilty of a rudeness which would
have shocked the man who in the Scotch Highlands fed and milked
the cows, he still must not forget that society demands something
which was not found in the farm-yard. Carlyle, himself the
greatest radical and democrat in the world, found that life at
Craigenputtock would not do all for him, that he must go to London
and Edinburgh to rub off his solitary neglect of manners, and
strive to be like other people. On the other band, the Queen of
England has just refused to receive the Duke of Marlborough
because he notoriously ill-treated the best of wives, and had
been, in all his relations of life, what they call in England a
“cad.” She has even asked him to give back the Star and Garter,
the insignia once worn by the great duke, which has never fallen
on shoulders so unworthy as those of the late Marquis of
Blandford, now Duke of Marlborough. For all this the world has
great reason to thank the Queen, for the present duke has been
always in “good society,” and such is the reverence felt for rank
and for hereditary name in England that he might have continued in
the most fashionable circles for all his bad behaviour, still
being courted for name and title, had not the highest lady in the
land rebuked him.
She has refused to receive the friends of the Prince of Wales,
particularly some of his American favorites, this good Queen,
because she esteems good manners and a virtuous life as a part of
good society.
Now, those who are not “in society” are apt to mistake all that is
excessive, all that is boorish, all that is snobbish, all that is
aggressive, as being a part of that society. In this they are
wrong. No one estimates the grandeur of the ocean by the rubbish
thrown up on the shore. Fashionable society, good society, the
best society, is composed of the very best people, the most
polished and accomplished, religious, moral, and charitable.
The higher the civilization, therefore, the better the society,
it being always borne in mind that there will be found, here and
there, the objectionable outgrowths of a false luxury and of an
insincere culture. No doubt, among the circles of the highest
nobility, while the king and queen may be people of simple and
unpretending manners, there may be some arrogant and
self-sufficient master of ceremonies, some Malvolio whose
pomposity is in strange contrast to the good-breeding of Olivia.
It is the lesser star which twinkles most. The “School for
Scandal” is a lasting picture of the folly and frivolity of a
certain phase of London society in the past, and it repeats itself
in every decade. There is always a Mrs. Candour, a Sir Benjamin
Backbite, and a scandalous college at Newport, in New York,
Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, Chicago, Saratoga,
Long Branch, wherever society congregates. It is the necessary
imperfection, the seamy side. Such is the reverse of the pattern.
Unfortunately, the right side is not so easily described. The
colors of a beautiful bit of brocade
Comments (0)