Kitabı oku: «The Mentor», sayfa 8
“The best brought-up family of children I ever knew were educated on the principle of always commending them when it was possible to do so, and letting silence be the reproof of any wrong-doing that was not really serious. I have heard the children of this household, when their mother had failed to say any word of commendation after some social occasion, ask as anxiously as possible, ‘What was it, mamma? I know something was wrong. Didn’t we treat the other children well, or were we too noisy?’ In that house reproof was never bestowed unsought – only commendation, of whatever it was possible to commend, was gratuitous.
“I think this system would be as good for those grown-up children, the husbands and wives, as for those still in the nursery. I once asked the late Hepworth Dixon, with whom I happened to be talking on this subject, what he thought was the reason why some women held their husbands’ hearts securely and forever, while others were but the brief tenants of a few months or years. ‘What,’ I asked, ‘is the quality in a woman that her husband loves longest?’
“‘That she should be a pillow,’ answered Mr. Dixon, and then meeting the inquiry in my eyes, he went on, ‘Yes, that is what a man needs in his wife – something to rest his heart on. He has excitement and opposition enough in the world. He wants to feel that there is one place where he is sure of sympathy, a place that will give him ease as a pillow gives it to a tired head. Do you think a man will be tempted to turn from the woman whose eyes are his flattering mirror – who heals where others wound?’
“And surely he was right. We are grateful for even a too flattering faith in us, and if there is any good in us at all, we try to deserve this faith. But tenderness in the conjugal heart is much more common than grace in the conjugal manner. Since, however, next to that supreme good of being satisfied in one’s own conscience is that second great good of being satisfied in one’s own home, surely no details of manner that tend to such a result are too slight to be observed. I believe in making as pretty a toilet to greet the returning husband as one put on to await the expected sweetheart; and, when the husband comes, he makes a mistake very fatal to his own interests if he fails to notice what he would have praised in other days. It is a trite saying that life is made up of trifles; but surely the sum of all these domestic trifles amounts to the difference between happiness and unhappiness.”
If you are the head of a family, be slow to assert your authority; remember that about the most disgusting creature on earth is the domestic tyrant. As we start so we are likely to continue; if a man starts as a domestic bully, as a domestic bully he is likely to continue to the end, making himself unhappy and those about him unhappy his life long. “Half of us find fault from habit; but some of us, we fear, do so from an inborn ugliness of disposition.”
The manner of others toward us is usually the reflex of our manner toward them. As men have howled into the wood so it has ever howled out.
Beneath the habitually gentlemanly demeanor of many men – yes, very many – there lurks a spirit of bullyism that seems to avail itself of every pretext to appear on the surface. Men that are thus afflicted are ever ready for an altercation, in order, it would seem, to show their familiarity with the ways and the peculiar phraseology of the braggart and brawler. Such men always say that they are gentlemen, and gentlemen always say that such men are blackguards.
Forwardness, especially in the youthful, is something to be carefully guarded against. The man, old or young, whose manner is forward and “loud” is never a welcome addition to a social circle. The forward and loud are generally as inane as they are noisy. If one observes them, one often finds that what they say is but an elaboration of thoughts already expressed by other members of the company.
If forwardness is a thing to be avoided, diffidence is not less a thing that should be cured. Each is alike proof of a lack of breeding. Diffidence can be thoroughly cured only by acquiring the polite accomplishments, of those in whose society one feels uncomfortable. The boor, unless he is a downright blockhead, never feels at ease in the society of the cultured.
Good manners go far toward supplying the want of good looks. They constitute the secret of that fascination that we often see exerted by persons that are not gifted with physical attractions.
Maxims of Stephen Allen, Mayor of New York City from 1821 to 1823:
“Never be idle.
“If your hands cannot be usefully employed, attend to the cultivation of your mind.
“Always speak the truth.
“Make few promises.
“Live up to your engagements.
“Keep your own secrets, if you have any.
“When you speak to a person, look him in the face.
“Good company and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue.
“Good character1 is above all things else.
“Your character2 cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts.
“If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be so that no one will believe him.
“Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors.
“Ever live, misfortune excepted, within your income.
“When you retire to bed, think over what you have done during the day.
“Make no haste to be rich.
“Small and steady gains give competency with tranquillity of mind.
“Never play at any game of chance.
“Avoid temptation through fear that you may not withstand it.
“Earn money before you spend it.
“Never run into debt unless you see a way to get out.
“Never borrow if you can possibly avoid it.
“Do not marry until you are able to support a wife.
“Never speak ill of any one.
“Be just before you are generous.
“Keep yourself innocent, if you would be happy.
“Save when you are young, to spend when you are old.
“Read over the above maxims at least once a week.”
If a man boasts that he could worst you in a set-to, answer that you think it very likely as you have no experience in fisticuffing; that you have never struck any one and should hardly know how to go to work to do it.
If a man threaten to do you bodily harm, ask him if he is in earnest. If he says he is, run. There is more glory in avoiding a mêlée by running away than there is in remaining and coming off the victor.
But – if the devil be on the side of the blackguard and he corners you, teach him, to the best of your ability, that you are not really a poltroon, though you are quite willing that bullyism should think you one.
Mr. Sparks gives us a collection of directions that Washington called his “Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company.” They are as follows:
“1. Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.
“2. In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a humming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet.
“3. Speak not when others speak; sit not when others stand, and walk not when others stop.
“4. Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog not the table or desk on which another writes or reads; lean not on any one.
“5. Be no flatterer, neither play with any one that delights not to be played with.
“6. Read no letters, books or papers in company; but when there is a necessity for doing it, ask leave. Come not near the books or writings of any one so as to read them unasked; also look not nigh when another is writing a letter.
“7. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters somewhat grave.
“8. Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he be your enemy.
“9. They that are in dignity or in office have in all places precedency; but while they are young, they ought to respect those that are their equals in birth or other qualities, though they have no public charge.
“10. It is good manners to prefer those to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin.
“11. Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive.
“12. In visiting the sick do not presently play the physician if you be not knowing therein.
“13. In writing or speaking give to every person his due title according to his degree and the custom of the place.
“14. Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty.
“15. Undertake not to teach your equal in the art he himself possesses; it savors of arrogancy.
“16. When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it.
“17. Being constrained to advise or to reprehend any one, consider whether it should be done in public or in private, presently or at some other time, also in what terms to do it; and in reproving show no signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness.
“18. Mock not nor jest at anything of importance; break no jests that are sharp or biting; and if you deliver anything witty or pleasant, abstain from laughing thereat yourself.
“19. Wherein you reprove another be unblamable yourself, for example is ever better than precept.
“20. Use no reproachful language to any one, neither curses nor revilings.
“21. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of any one.
“22. In your apparel be modest, and endeavor to accommodate nature rather than to procure admiration. Keep to the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly, with respect to time and place.
“23. Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if you are well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your stockings sit neatly and clothes handsomely.
“24. Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company.
“25. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of a tractable and commendable nature; and in all causes of passion admit reason to govern.
“26. Be not immodest in urging your friend to discover a secret.
“27. Utter not base and frivolous things among grown and learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects among the ignorant, nor things hard to be believed.
“28. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth nor at the table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds; and if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse. Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friends.
“29. Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth. Laugh not aloud, nor at all without occasion. Deride no man’s misfortunes, though there seem to be some cause.
“30. Speak not injurious words, neither in jest nor in earnest. Scoff at none, although they give occasion.
“31. Be not forward, but friendly and courteous, the first to salute, hear and answer, and be not pensive when it is time to converse.
“32. Detract not from others, but neither be excessive in commending.
“33. Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be welcome or not. Give not advice without being asked; and when asked, do it briefly.
“34. If two contend together, take not the part of either unconstrained, and be not obstinate in your opinion; in things indifferent, be of the major side.
“35. Reprehend not the imperfections of others, for that belongs to masters, parents and superiors.
“36. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, nor ask how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend deliver not before others.
“37. Speak not in an unknown tongue in company, but in your own language; and that as those of quality do, and not as the vulgar. Sublime matters treat seriously.
“38. Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly.
“39. When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor answer him till his speech be ended.
“40. Treat with men at fit times about business, and whisper not in the company of others.
“41. Make no comparisons; and if any of the company be commended for any brave act of virtue, commend not another for the same.
“42. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth thereof. In discoursing of things you have heard, name not your author always. A secret discover not.
“43. Be not curious to know the affairs of others, neither approach to those that speak in private.
“44. Undertake not what you cannot perform. Be careful to keep your promise.
“45. When you deliver a matter, do it without passion and indiscretion, however mean the person may be you do it to.
“46. When your superiors talk to anybody, hear them; neither speak nor laugh.
“47. In disputes be not so desirous to overcome as to give liberty to each one to deliver his opinion, and submit to the judgment of the major part, especially if they are judges of the dispute.
“48. Be not tedious in discourse, make not digressions, nor repeat often the same matter of discourse.
“49. Speak no evil of the absent, for it is unjust.
“50. Be not angry at table, whatever happens; and if you have reason to be so show it not; put on a cheerful countenance, especially if there be strangers, for good humor makes one dish a feast.
“51. Set not yourself at the upper end of the table; but if it be your due, or if the master of the house will have it so, contend not, lest you should trouble the company.
“52. When you speak of God or His attributes, let it be seriously, in reverence and honor, and obey your natural parents.
“53. Let your recreations be manful, not sinful.
“54. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called Conscience.”
WHAT IS A GENTLEMAN?
Education begins the gentleman; but reading, good company, and reflection must finish him. – Locke.
A man of polished and agreeable manners, as distinguished from the vulgar and clownish. – Worcester.
It would be hard to find two persons that fully agree with regard to what constitutes a gentleman. It is far easier to tell what a gentleman is not than what a gentleman is.
For example, we all agree that the man is not a gentleman that is ignorant of those usages that, by common consent, regulate refined social intercourse; that does not, in his dress, conform, within certain limits at least, to the prevailing modes; that is desirous to attract attention by affecting eccentricities; that bears himself as though he thought himself an object of special attention, i. e., is self-conscious; that has no thought for the comfort, the feelings, or the rights of others. In short, we all agree that no man deserves to be called a gentleman that is not a man of education; i. e., that is not sufficiently acquainted with books and with the usages of refined social intercourse to acquit himself creditably in the society of cultivated people. Not moral worth, nor learning, nor wealth, nor all three combined, can, unaided, make a gentleman, for with all three a man might be coarse, unbred, unschooled in those things that no man can be ignorant of and be welcome in the society of the refined.
A modern English writer says that to formulate the definition of a gentleman in negatives would be easy. “As, for instance,” he says, “we may say that a true gentleman does not soil his conscience with falsehoods, does not waste his time on sensual indulgence, does not endeavor to make the worse appear the better reason, does not ridicule sacred things, does not wilfully give cause of offence to any, does not seek to overreach his neighbor, does not forget the respect due to womanhood, or old age, the feeble or the poor. But, to speak affirmatively,” he continues, “a gentleman is one whose aims are generous, whose trust is constant, whose word is never broken, whose honor is never stained, who is as gentle as brave, and as honest as wise, who wrongs no one by word or deed, and dignifies and embellishes life by nobility of thought, depth of feeling, and grace of manner.”
Thackeray wrote of the gentleman thus: “What is it to be a gentleman? Is it not to be honest, to be gentle, to be generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these qualities, to exercise them in the most graceful outward manner? Ought not a gentleman to be a loyal son, a true husband, an honest father? Ought not his life to be decent, his bills to be paid, his tastes to be high and elegant, his aims in life lofty and noble? In a word, ought not the biography of the First Gentleman in Europe to be of such a nature, that it might be read in young ladies’ schools with advantage, and studied with profit in the seminaries of young gentlemen?”
Another English writer says that the primary essentials of what constitutes the true gentleman are Goodness, Gentleness and Unselfishness. “Upon these qualities,” he says, “are based all those observances and customs that we class together under the head of Good Manners. And these good manners, be it remembered, do not consist merely in the art of bowing gracefully, of entering a room properly, of talking eloquently, of being familiar with the minor habits of good society. A man may have all this, know all this, and yet, if he is selfish, or ill-natured, or untruthful, fail of being a gentleman. Good manners are far from being the evidence of good training only; they are also the evidence of a refined nature. They are the fruit of good seed sown on good soil. As a just and elevated thought clearly and gracefully expressed is evidence of a well-trained mind, so every act, however unimportant, and every gesture, however insignificant, is evidence of the kindly, considerate, modest, loyal nature of the true gentleman, or – of the reverse.”
In a story by Spielhagen, the distinguished German novelist, I find the following:
“What do you call a gentleman?” asked the Duke. “Will you give me a definition of the word?”
“That is not so easy, my lord; indeed, I am not sure that it is possible to define the word satisfactorily,” replied Lady De Vere. “By resorting to metaphors, however, I may perhaps be able to outline what we all feel, but are unable fully to describe. A gentleman is one in whom the vigorous and the delicate are happily united. The soft, the refined – all that comes from frequenting the society of women of culture, lies in the ‘gentle;’ the strong, the firm, the stern – all that comes from battling with men, lies in the ‘man;’ ‘gentle’ implies the possession of all the social, ‘man’ of all the civil, virtues; ‘man’ is the fiery wine, ‘gentle’ the tasteful goblet; ‘man’ is the sharp, correct drawing, ‘gentle,’ the warm, soft coloring; ‘gentle’ might be the Sybarite, who is disturbed by the falling of a rose-leaf, ‘man’ is the Brutus, who as judge knows not even his own child. Pericles, the brave, magnanimous, amiable, refined Athenian, might be offered as an example of the true gentleman.”
In his essay in The Century, for October, 1883, on the “Characteristics of London,” W. J. Stillman contrasts the English gentleman with the best American type as follows:
“And it is in this very class that we find here and there that best type of humanity, as the world knows it, the true English gentleman – a being whose exterior decorum may be counterfeited by his emulator, whose inmost gentleness and courtesy may be shadowed forth in peer or peasant – who loves his kind, and feels the common bond of divine birth, but whose most perfect union of noble demeanor and large-heartedness can only be found where the best type of mind has been permitted the largest and richest culture, and the completest freedom of hereditary development in the most favorable external circumstances. There are nobles and noblemen – men who seem to be conscious only that surrounding men are lower than they, and others whose illumination pervades every one near them and brings all up into the same world of light and sweetness. The prestige of nobility is founded on a true human instinct; occasionally one finds an English nobleman who justifies its existence, and makes us snobs in spite of our democracy.
“I could, I am certain, point to Americans who in every substantial trait of the gentleman will stand comparison with any aristocrat born – men in whom gentlehood has grown to hereditary ripeness; the third and fourth generations of men who have cultivated on American soil the virtues of honesty, morality, sincerity, courtesy, self-abnegation, humanity, benevolence; men and women whose babyhood was cradled in those influences that make what we call ‘good breeding,’ and to whom the various vulgarities of our parvenu princes are as foreign as to the bluest-blooded heir of Normandy fortune; and this is to me a more grateful and sympathetic type of humanity than that of its English congener.”
In the writings of a Gallic philosopher, of a former generation, that I lately chanced upon, I find the homme comme il faut– a man that is pretty nearly the counterpart of our gentleman– described essentially as follows:
At the first glance we discover in him nothing that arrests the attention. He is simple, calm, ingenuous, manly rather than graceful, sedate rather than animated. His manner is neither reserved nor demonstrative, but attentive, respectful and guarded; neither obsequious nor imperious, but calm and self-possessed. His politeness appears in acts rather than in protestations. Though he does not despise convention, he is not its slave; he does not allow himself to be hampered by the unimportant, nor does he ever see a heinous offence in a trifling breach of established usage.
His dress is an index of his character: simple, appropriate, harmonious. The man of the world pronounces it tasteful, the man of the people sees in it nothing that is unusual, and the man of sense recognizes in it a certain independence of the newest mode.
Being of those that make haste discreetly, he studies the characters of his acquaintances before giving them his confidence. In conversation, he is neither impatient, restless, nor hurried, and though he is careful in selecting his words, he attaches more importance to the matter of his discourse than to the manner. Made to give the tone, he is content to receive it: he is wont to take as much pains to remain unnoticed as many another takes to make himself seen.
If he appears in a circle where he is not known, the greater number see in him only a quiet, plain man that, despite his simplicity, however, has that about him to which they involuntarily yield their respect. The superficial, the presuming, and the malicious, though ignorant of the cause, are embarrassed by his steady, searching glance; the loyal and the unfortunate, on the contrary, are drawn toward him, feeling that in him they shall find a friend.
He is guarded in speaking ill of others, a thing he never does but with right intentions – as, for example, to unmask a hypocrite, to punish the guilty, or to protect the weak. In speaking of his enemies, he never forgets to be just; he is not of those that are blind to the virtues of even the most unworthy, nor is he of those that are so ungenerous as to deny them.
He is temperate in sustaining his opinions, and opposes only to be better informed, or to enliven the conversation; and often he will suddenly acknowledge his defeat, and confess with generous sincerity that the reasons of his opponent are better than his own. His victories are not less noble. His aim is to enlighten, not to humiliate, much less to offend. If he finds that he is opposed by presumption, obstinacy or ignorance, it is his habit to yield. “You may be right,” he will say; “my way of seeing things is often erroneous, and this, quite likely, is the case now.”
He avoids what is likely to create discord, seeks to promote kindly feeling among his fellows, and never pleads the faults of others in extenuation of his own. He is slow to take offence, opposes incivility with urbanity, and passion with moderation. Wrong-doing he accounts a weakness, and he pleads weakness as its excuse; the wrong-doer excites his pity rather than his hate.
He possesses, in a high degree, the happy faculty of adapting himself to others, from whom he expects no more than they can give and from whom he obtains the best they have. “There are few,” he says, “in whom, if we study them, we do not find some estimable qualities. If each has his weaknesses, so each has his virtues, which it is for us to discover.” Herein he excels.
The same day may see him dogmatize with a pedant, reason with a sage, shine in a social circle, console the unfortunate, contend for the rights of humanity, and swear fidelity to the woman of his choice. He talks trade to the shopkeeper, politics to the ambitious, perspective to the painter, play-things to childhood, house affairs to the matron, and probity to all. All he says bears the impress of a benign, humane philosophy that is now grave and now gay, as the time or the place may demand.
In nothing does his prudence more appear than in his pleasures, for be their character what it may, they never see him overstep the limit prescribed by decency and self-respect. That pleasure that injures no one seems to him innocent, and that recreation that follows labor seems to him reasonable.
Honesty with him has become a sort of instinct, which he exercises without reflection. The possibility that he could take an ignoble advantage, be wilfully unjust, or betray a trust, material or confidential, has never crossed his thought.
In the management of his material concerns, he is a model. In large expenditures he is guarded, in order that he may be the better able to be liberal in small ones. He never is guilty of that parsimony in little things that disgraces more than display in great ones ever exalts. It is his special care to be discriminating in his bounties, moderate in his expenditures and punctual in his payments. He often denies himself the pleasures of luxury to indulge in those of benevolence. If misfortune lessens his income, he is prompt to retrench; he knows that the friends and acquaintances he will lose should not be accounted veritable losses. He is modest in prosperity, resigned in adversity, and dignified always.
If he speaks of religion, he chooses carefully the time and the place. Whatever the prevailing belief in the community in which he lives, he considers it as forming a part of the laws, and he respects whatever contributes to stability and order. He attacks abuses only and seeks to destroy only what he can replace. He takes nothing on trust, but examines well before giving his assent; and that religion finds most favor with him that attaches most importance to the doing of good deeds. The man that in his eyes is the most truly religious is he that does most for his fellows. He rejoices that beneficence is held in like esteem by all creeds, however widely may differ their dogmas, and that the various religions of the world repose on the belief in the existence of a Supreme Being that punishes vice and rewards virtue. He has the modesty to think and the honesty to confess that as so many millions are in error, he also may err. Nor has he the presumption, like so many of his fellows, to set himself up as an infallible judge of others. But he pities those presuming motes that live but an instant, come they know not whence, and go they know not where, and yet would judge the whole by a part, and eternity by a span, conclude that all is but the product of chance, assert that what passes their reason is not reasonable, and deny the existence of Him to whom millions of years are but a moment, and millions of miles but a point.
