The Gentlemen's Book of Etiquette and Manual of...

“Whatever fortune may be made by perjury, I believe there never was a man who made a fortune by common swearing. It often appears that men pay for swearing, but it seldom happens that they are paid for it. It is not easy to perceive what honor or credit is connected with it. Does any man receive promotion because he is a notable blusterer? Or is any man advanced to dignity because he is expert at profane swearing? Never. Low must be the character which such impertinence will exalt: high must be the character which such impertinence will not degrade. Inexcusable, therefore, must be the practice which has neither reason nor passion to support it. The drunkard has his cups; the satirist, his revenge; the ambitious man, his preferments; the miser, his gold; but the common swearer has nothing; he is a fool at large, sells his soul for nought, and drudges in the service of the devil gratis. Swearing is void of all plea; it is not the native offspring of the soul, nor interwoven with the texture of the body, nor, anyhow, allied to our frame. For, as Tillotson expresses it, ‘Though some men pour out oaths as if they were natural, yet no man was ever born of a swearing constitution.’ But it is a custom, a low and a paltry custom, picked up by low and paltry spirits who have no sense of honor, no regard to decency, but are forced to substitute some rhapsody of nonsense to supply the vacancy of good sense. Hence, the silliness of the practice can only be equalled by the silliness of those who adopt it.”

83. Dr. Johnson says that to converse well “there must, in the first place, be knowledge—there must be materials; in the second place, there must be a command of words; in the third place, there must be imagination to place things in such views as they are not commonly seen in; and, in the fourth place, there must be a presence of mind, and a resolution that is not to be overcome by failure—this last is an essential requisite; for want of it, many people do not excel in conversation.”

84. “Do not constantly endeavor to draw the attention of all upon yourself when in company. Leave room for your hearers to imagine something within you beyond what you speak; and, remember, the more you are praised the more you will be envied.”

85. Be very careful to treat with attention and respect those who have lately met with misfortunes, or have suffered from loss of fortune. Such persons are apt to think themselves slighted, when no such thing is intended. Their minds, being already sore, feel the least rub very severely, and who would thus cruelly add affliction to the afflicted? Not the gentleman certainly.

89. Maintain, in every word, a strict regard for perfect truth. Do not think of one falsity as harmless, another as slight, a third as unintended. Cast them all aside. They may be light and accidental, but they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the pit for all that, and it is better to have your heart swept clean of them, without stopping to consider whether they are large and black.

90. The advantage and necessity of cheerfulness and intelligent intercourse with the world is strongly to be recommended. A man who keeps aloof from society and lives only for himself, does not fulfil the wise intentions of Providence, who designed that we should be a mutual help and comfort to each other in life.

91. Chesterfield says, “Merit and good breeding will make their way everywhere. Knowledge will introduce man, and good breeding will endear him to the best companies; for, politeness and good breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all, other good qualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, is seen in its best light. The scholar, without good breeding, is a pedant; the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and every man disagreeable.”

92. It is very seldom that a man may permit himself to tell stories in society; they are, generally, tedious, and, to many present, will probably have all the weariness of a “twice-told tale.” A short, brilliant anecdote, which is especially applicable to the conversation going on, is all that a well-bred man will ever permit himself to inflict.

93. It is better to take the tone of the society into which you are thrown, than to endeavor to lead others after you. The way to become truly popular is to be grave with the grave, jest with the gay, and converse sensibly with those who seek to display their sense.

94. Watch each of your actions, when in society, that all the habits which you contract there may be useful and good ones. Like flakes of snow that fall unperceived upon the earth, the seemingly unimportant events of life succeed one another. As the snow gathers together, so are our habits formed. No single flake that is added to the pile produces a sensible change—no single action creates, however it may exhibit, a man’s character; but, as the tempest hurls the avalanche down the mountain, and overwhelms the inhabitant and his habitation, so passion, acting upon the elements of mischief, which pernicious habits have brought together by imperceptible accumulation, may overthrow the edifice of truth and virtue.

95. There is no greater fault in good breeding than too great diffidence. Shyness cramps every motion, clogs every word. The only way to overcome the fault is to mix constantly in society, and the habitual intercourse with others will give you the graceful ease of manner which shyness utterly destroys.

97. Avoid quarrels. If you are convinced, even, that you have the right side in an argument, yield your opinion gracefully, if this is the only way to avoid a quarrel, saying, “We cannot agree, I see, but this inability must not deprive me of a friend, so we will discuss the subject no further.” Few men will be able to resist your courtesy and good nature, but many would try to combat an obstinate adherence to your own side of the question.

99. If any one bows to you in the street, return the bow. It may be an acquaintance whose face you do not immediately recognize, and if it is a stranger who mistakes you for another, your courteous bow will relieve him from the embarrassment arising from his mistake.

“Conversation may be carried on successfully by persons who have no idea that it is or may be an art, as clever things are sometimes done without study. But there can be no certainty of good conversation in ordinary circumstances, and amongst ordinary minds, unless certain rules be observed, and certain errors be avoided.

“The first and greatest rule unquestionably is, that all must be favorably disposed towards each other, and willing to be pleased. There must be no sullen or uneasy-looking person—no one who evidently thinks he has fallen into unsuitable company, and whose sole aim it is to take care lest his dignity be injured—no one whose feelings are of so morose or ascetic a kind that he cannot join without observable pain and hesitation in the playfulness of the scene—no matter-of-fact person, who takes all things literally, and means all things literally, and thinks it as great a crime to say something in jest as to do it in earnest. One of any of these classes of persons is sufficient to mar the enjoyments of a hundred. The matter-of-factish may do very well with the matter-of-factish, the morose with the morose, the stilted with the stilted; and they should accordingly keep amongst themselves respectively. But, for what is generally recognized as agreeable conversation, minds exempted from these peculiarities are required.

“The ordinary rules of politeness are, of course, necessary—no rudeness, no offence to each other’s self-esteem; on the contrary, much mutual deference is required, in order to keep all the elements of a company sweet. Sometimes, however, there is a very turbid kind of conversation, where there is no want of common good breeding. This, most frequently, arises from there being too great a disposition to speak, and too small a disposition to listen. Too many are eager to get their ideas expressed, or to attract attention; and the consequence is, that nothing is heard but broken snatches and fragments of discourse, in which there is neither profit nor entertainment. No man listens to what another has to say, and then makes a relative or additionally illustrative remark. One may be heard for a minute, or half a minute, but it is with manifest impatience; and the moment he is done, or stops to draw breath, the other plunges in with what he had to say, being something quite of another strain, and referring to another subject. He in his turn is interrupted by a third, with the enunciation of some favorite ideas of his, equally irrelative; and thus conversation becomes no conversation, but a contention for permission to speak a few hurried words, which nobody cares to hear, or takes the trouble to answer. Meanwhile, the modest and weak sit silent and ungratified. The want of regulation is here very manifest.

It would be better to have a president who should allow everybody a minute in succession to speak without interruption, than thus to have freedom, and so monstrously to abuse it. The only remedy, as far as meetings by invitation are concerned, is to take care that no more eager talkers are introduced than are absolutely necessary to prevent conversation from flagging. One to every six or eight persons is the utmost that can be safely allowed.

“The danger of introducing politics, or any other notoriously controversial subject, in mixed companies, is so generally acknowledged, that conversation is in little danger—at least in polite circles—from that source. But wranglements, nevertheless, are apt to arise. Very frequently the company falls together by the ears in consequence of the starting of some topic in which facts are concerned—with which facts no one chances to be acquainted.

“Conversation is often much spoilt through slight inattentions or misapprehensions on the part of a particular member of the company. In the midst of some interesting narrative or discussion, he suddenly puts all to a stop, in order that some little perplexity may be explained, which he could never have fallen into, if he had been paying a fair degree of attention to what was going on. Or he has some precious prejudice jarred upon by something said, or supposed to be said, and all is at a stand, till he has been, through the united exertions of a vexed company, re-assured and put at his ease. Often the most frivolous interruption from such causes will disconcert the whole strain of the conversation, and spoil the enjoyment of a score of people.

“The eager speakers, already alluded to, are a different class from those who may be called the determinedly loquacious. A thoroughly loquacious man has no idea of anything but a constant outpouring of talk from his own mouth. If he stops for a moment, he thinks he is not doing his duty to the company; and, anxious that there should be no cause of complaint against him on that score, he rather repeats a sentence, or gives the same idea in different words, or hums and haws a little, than allow the least pause to take place. The notion that any other body can be desirous of saying a word, never enters his head. He would as soon suppose that a beggar was anxious to bestow alms upon him, as that any one could wish to speak, as long as he himself was willing to save them the trouble. Any attempt to interrupt him is quite hopeless. The only effect of the sound of another voice is to raise the sound of his own, so as to drown it. Even to give a slight twist or turn to the flow of his ideas, is scarce possible. When a decided attempt is made to get in a few words, he only says, with an air of offended feeling, set off with a tart courtesy, ‘Allow me, sir,’ or, ‘When you are done, sir;’ as if he were a man whom nobody would allow, on any occasion, to say all he had to say.

If, however, he has been permitted to talk on and on incessantly a whole evening, to the complete closing of the mouths of the rest, he goes away with all the benevolent glow of feeling which arises from a gratified faculty, remarking to the gentleman who takes his arm, ‘What a great deal of pleasant conversation we have had!’ and chatters forth all the way home such sentences as, ‘Excellent fellow, our host,’ ‘charming wife,’ ‘delightful family altogether,’ ‘always make everybody so happy.’

“Another class of spoilers of conversation are the loud talkers or blusterers. They are not numerous, but one is enough to destroy the comfort of thirty people for a whole evening. The least opposition to any of his ideas makes the blusterer rise in his might, and bellow, and roar, and bellow again, till the whole company is in something like the condition of Æneas’s fleet after Eolus has done his worst. The society enjoyed by this kind of man is a series of first invitations.

“While blusterers and determinedly loquacious persons are best left to themselves, and while endless worryings on unknown things are to be avoided, it is necessary both that one or two good conversationists should be at every party, and that the strain of the conversation should not be allowed to become too tame. In all invited parties, eight of every ten persons are disposed to hold their peace, or to confine themselves to monosyllabic answers to commonplace inquiries. It is necessary, therefore, that there should be some who can speak, and that fluently, if not entertainingly—only not too many. But all engrossing of conversation, and all turbulence, and over-eagerness, and egotism, are to be condemned. A very soft and quiet manner has, at last, been settled upon, in the more elevated circles, as the best for conversation. Perhaps they carry it to a pitch of affectation; but, yet, when we observe the injurious consequences of the opposite style in less polite companies, it is not easy to avoid the conclusion that the great folks are, upon the whole, right. In the courtly scene, no one has his ears offended with loud and discordant tones, no one is condemned to absolute silence. All display in conversation will not depend on the accidental and external quality of strength of voice, as it must do where a loud and contentious style of talking is allowed; the soft-toned and the weak-lunged will have as good a chance as their more robust neighbors; and it will be possible for all both to speak and to hear.

There may be another advantage in its being likely to produce less mental excitement than the more turbulent kind of society. But regulation is, we are persuaded, the thing most of all wanted in the conversational meetings of the middle classes. People interrupt each other too much—are too apt to run away into their own favorite themes, without caring for the topic of their neighbors—too frequently wrangle about trifles. The regularity of a debating society would be intolerable; but some certain degree of method might certainly be introduced with great advantage. There should, at least, be a vigorous enforcement of the rule against more than one speaking at a time, even though none of those waiting for their turn should listen to a word he says. Without this there may be much talk, and even some merriment, but no conversation.”