GOOD MANNERS.
Life is not so short but that there is always time for courtesy.
Emerson.
"Politeness is real kindness kindly expressed. This is the sum and substance of all true politeness. Put it in practice and all will be charmed with your manner."
Young men generally would doubtless be thoroughly astonished if they could comprehend at a single glance how greatly their personal happiness, popularity, prosperity, and usefulness depend on their manners.
J. G. Holland.
In attracting others to us the value of a pleasing manner cannot be estimated. It is like sunshine. We feel it at once, and we are attracted to the person who possesses it.
"Give a boy address and accomplishments," said Emerson, "and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes wherever he goes; he has not the trouble of earning or owning them: they solicit him to enter and possess."
Much has been written upon this subject. Indeed, so much has been said, and said so well, that there will be little attempt to do anything else in this chapter than to bring together some of the best thoughts of the best authors.
The men and women who have accomplished great things in the world have, as a rule, understood the value of politeness, and have acted in accordance with that knowledge. You can, possibly, recall a very few exceptions, but these were persons great in spite of their lack of courtesy, and they would have been even greater had they practiced the art of gentle manners.
The Duke of Marlborough, whose general education was in some respects sadly neglected, had so irresistible a charm of manner that he swayed the destinies of nations. Mirabeau, who was unattractive in person, won by his politeness the good will of all with whom he came in contact. There has been no time in the history of the world when good manners counted for more than they do at the present time. In fact, to-day more than ever before a man is dependent for success upon his personality. Good manners often bring to one many things that wealth cannot procure, and "politeness has won more victories than powder."
"No one," says an American writer, "who has any appreciation of grace and beauty in nature or in art can fail to recognize the charm of fine manners in an individual. We rejoice in them as we do in a lovely sunset view, or a beautiful piece of architecture, or a fascinating poem, for their own sake and for what they express; but even beyond this they have another attraction in the magnetic power they exert upon all beholders in setting them at ease, in sweeping away shyness, awkwardness and restraint, and in stimulating them to the expression of whatever is best worth cherishing within them."
It is undoubtedly true that the presence of fine manners, whether it be in the home or the social circle, in the workshop or the counting-room, in the visit of charity or the halls of legislation, has an immediate effect in reproducing itself, in diffusing happiness, in developing the faculties, and in eliciting the best that is in everybody.
Surely there is no quality that a girl or a woman can possess which recommends her more favorably to the good opinion of others than that of uniform courtesy and good manners.
William Wirt's letter to his daughter on the "small, sweet courtesies of life," contains a passage from which a deal of happiness may be learned. "I want to tell you a secret. The way to make yourself pleasant to others is to show them attention. The whole world is like the miller at Mansfield, who cared for nobody—no not he, because nobody cared for him. And the whole world would serve you so, if you gave them the same cause. Let everyone, therefore, see that you do care for them by showing them the small courtesies in which there is no parade, whose voice is still to please; and which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks, and little acts of attention, giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, walking, sitting, or standing."
Young men who wish to make their way in the world cannot afford to forget that there is not in all the world a talisman of such potent magic as the irresistible spell of a charming manner. While in some cases it seems innate, it can, in a great measure, be acquired. Yet a careful observer of the young men of the present generation cannot fail to notice a tendency, on the part of some at least, to disregard the small courtesies of life—the intangible, yet very perceptible little things which make the man a gentleman. Some people even contend that outward manner is a secondary consideration if the head is well stored with knowledge, and that if a young man has the faculty to get on in the world, it is a matter of very little importance if he have not the manners of a Chesterfield. That this idea is prevalent is accounted for by the great number of well-educated men—men of ability and power—who, clever and with no lack of brains, are painfully deficient in good breeding. With no intentional lapses they are awkward, presuming, and even vulgar.
"In most countries," says the Toronto Week, "an educated man and a gentleman are almost synonymous terms. On this side of the Atlantic they by no means always apply to the same man. Educational advantages are within the reach of all classes of people—even persons who have missed the benefit of home training for their manners, or who have not numbered cultured persons among their acquaintances. Such persons by native ability and hard work often attain to high positions of honor and trust in the various professions, and win for themselves the title of 'self-made.'
"Yet because a man by his brains, energy, and pluck carves out his own fortune, putting himself in a prominent position, is it not very desirable that he should also cultivate the courtesies of life so that the talent be not hidden by roughness and uncultivated bearing."
We frequently meet college students—especially from the smaller colleges—good, honest, earnest, ambitious fellows, who are working hard to make their way in the world. They are poor, and have come from homes where the stern realities of gaining a livelihood have left, apparently, no time for culture; where the table manners are but little better than those of the logging camp, and where the graces of refined speech and manners have never even taken root. They may take never so high a rank in their college studies, may pursue the work preparatory to a profession with never so much diligence, yet they will always be handicapped by their ignorance of those embellishments so necessary to social, and even business, success. They find themselves continually placed at a disadvantage, and their lack of social training is responsible for failures which might have been avoided.
Because a man is a successful lawyer he is not justified in saying that he can be his own tailor, or that ill-fitting clothes, if belonging to him and of his own make, are as suitable as those of a good cut. So it is with the intellectual giant who takes no heed of his manners. He may learn much from less talented persons, who are, nevertheless, his superiors in many respects. Desirable as it may be for a young man to shun the extravagance of the æsthete, and to despise the shams of society, he cannot afford to neglect the courtesies of life; and he does well who, while devoting his energies to mathematics and the classics, pays attention to the improvement of his manners. It is while young that manners are formed; the most strenuous efforts will not wholly eradicate in after life the awkward habits formed in youth.
The young man who is ambitious, upon whom Dame Fortune is already turning a dawning smile, should pause and think about this matter. Some time he may be rich; some time he may aspire to a high position in society or in public life, and he should begin early to fit himself for the proud position he means to occupy.
The outward address of a man has no little influence upon his success in business. The polite attention and readiness to meet every reasonable, and often unreasonable, demand of his customers, on the part of A. T. Stewart, when he opened his narrow linen store on Broadway, was almost as important a factor in his rapid success in securing business as his remarkable quickness in discovering changes in the market, and in adapting his goods to the taste and necessities of his patrons. This marked self-restraint and politeness of manner he retained to the last.
It is strange that every business man does not appreciate the commercial value of politeness. The writer knows a clerk who is employed in a drug store in one of the largest towns of Maine. So polite is he in his attentions to customers, so willing to be helpful, so pleasing in his manner, with that restraint and quietness which mark the gentleman and destroy every trace of effusion, that he has made himself invaluable to his employer. It is reported that, more than once, his friends have urged him to establish a business of his own, but his employer, realizing his value in attracting and holding customers, has turned him from the idea by a generous increase of salary. Thousands of clerks and thousands of professional and business men could greatly increase their earning power by closer attention to the accepted rules of courtesy.
Some people excuse a roughness of manner by saying that they detest affectations of all kinds, that they love the truth, that they are perfectly frank and outspoken. Such people pride themselves upon their naturalness, and on the ground of frankness they will wound by rude language, will insult you, and defend their awkwardness and ill-breeding by the plea of "natural manners." Naturalness is not always commendable. If nature has not invested us with those qualities which are pleasing to others, we should try to improve upon nature. The plainest truths may be conveyed in civil speech, and it is better to "assume a virtue if you have it not." To object to politeness on the ground that its language is sometimes unmeaning and expressed for effect, is as foolish as it would be to object to the decoration of our parlors or the wearing of good clothes.
In the ordinary compliments of good society there is no intention to deceive. Polite language is pleasant to the ear, and soothing to the heart, while rough words are the reverse, and while they may not always be the result of bad temper, they are quite likely to cause it.
The motive for politeness should not be the desire to shine, or to raise one's self into society supposed to be better than one's own. The cultivation of good manners is not merely a means to the gratification of personal vanity, but it is a duty we owe not only to other people but to ourselves; a duty to make ourselves better in every respect than we are. Indeed, the true spirit of good manners is so nearly allied to that of good morals that they seem almost inseparable.
"Did you ever think how invisible is the armor of defence afforded by perfect politeness?" asks Harper's Bazar. "Neither man, woman nor child can resist it. The quick tempered Irish maid who loses her hold on her tongue so easily and 'answers back' with a hot retort is abashed when her mistress meets her with quiet courtesy. The angry person, off guard and saying what he really does not mean, is foiled by the self-control of his interlocutor, who has not, for an instant, forgotten the gracious manner of good breeding."
Politeness is, perhaps, instinctive with some, but with the majority it is a matter of training, of the slow and careful discipline of voice and eye and carriage. Under this training all the angles of personal vanity and self-consciousness are rubbed off, the person becomes adorned with grace, ease, simplicity and gentleness, and what may seem to the untrained observer as the perfection of naturalness may be simply the perfection of culture.
Very sensitive persons who suffer acutely from fancied slights can save themselves many wounds by always being as scrupulous in giving as they are in exacting courtesy. To suffer one's self to perpetrate a rudeness is to lay one's self open to the same. In nothing should we be less economical than in politeness. It should lead us to prompt and generous acknowledgment of every kindness, to responsive thanks when a gift, however small, is brought to our door. It should oblige us to listen with patient attention even to the person whose conversation is not entertaining, to sit apparently absorbed when in public we are present at concert or lecture. This defensive armor, so smooth, so polished, so easily worn, will make our intercourse with society agreeable.
The fact is, that when we come in contact with human beings anywhere and in any occupation, we are quite likely to get in return just what we give.
A man who is always the gentleman seldom meets with rebuffs from even the most unpolished and crude. The employer who uses kind words with his workmen, usually gets kind words in return.
DRESS.
"No woman is ugly who is well dressed."
Spanish Proverb.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Hamlet.
I believe in dress. I believe that God delights in beautiful things, and as he has never made anything more beautiful than woman, I believe that that mode of dressing the form and face which best harmonizes with her beauty is that which pleases him best.
J. G. Holland.
As the author of this volume is a man, this chapter on dress is, of course, written from a man's point of view. He knows very well that, were he to attempt to write scientifically of woman's clothes he would be lost. No one but a woman can do that. The man who tried it would soon find himself bewildered by a maze of technical terms and expressions which seem absolutely necessary to describe exactly what is meant. Possibly, however, the author can take a broad, mental grasp of the subject apart from and above the pretty finesse with which feminine writers would treat the subject. Clothes are the woman's weapons, one of the resources of civilization, with which woman marches forth to the conquest of the masculine world, and the writer wishes to estimate from the man's standpoint just how much the silks, the laces, the ribbons and the velvets have to do in influencing the masculine heart.
What one wears is accepted as an index of one's character. Whether this is as it should be or not, yet it is true; and we all feel, more or less, that coarseness or refinement finds visible expression in apparel as in no other way. "Surely," says The Boston Journal, "nothing so intensifies the personality as the clothes one wears; through association they become a part of us, help to identify us, even in some peculiar, reactionary way, serve to control our mental states."
Many women will tell you that their most infallible cure for weariness and the blues is to go and dress up in one of their prettiest gowns. Many men will tell you that a clean shave, clean linen, and a fresh suit of clothes are most reviving and soothing in their effect upon the psychical as well as the physical man.
The statement, often made, that women dress well only to please the men, is only a fraction of the truth.
They dress to please the men; to please one another, and to please themselves. Which of these three motives is the strongest depends upon the individual, for,—"while there are men and men, there are women and women and women," and it is absurd to make any attempt to analyze motives or to formulate principles which will apply to all women.
The men who dress well do it for the women and for themselves. The effect that their apparel has upon others of their own sex, gives men but little concern. If all the women should be taken from the world tailors would at once lose half their business, for the men would immediately begin to wear out their old clothes.
As a rule, few men care very much for fine clothes for their own sake, but a love of dress is natural in woman, and one who exhibits indifference in regard to her personal appearance convicts herself of either indolence, self-righteousness or pedantry. A woman who has not some natural taste in dress, who does not take a positive delight in combinations of colors, who is not fond of fine apparel for its own sake, is an anomaly.
Men do not notice details of a woman's dress. Few know enough about the subject to distinguish cheese-cloth from point d'esprit. The description in detail of a new gown as given in a fashion journal is about as intelligible to the average man as the inscriptions on an Assyrian tablet.
They accept the woman as a whole, and consider her, and what she has on, as one harmonious, homogeneous, unanalyzable completeness. If you doubt this ask a man to tell you how a certain lady was dressed at a reception he attended the evening before. Perhaps he noticed her particularly while there, and told you at the time that she was becomingly attired. He may be able to tell you that she wore a pink waist, or that the prevailing color of her costume was blue, but there his knowledge of the subject ends.
While it is true that men give but little thought to the details of a woman's dress, unless it is conspicuously bad, very many of them know whether she is becomingly attired or not. While they may have no clear idea as to whether the material of a gown cost five cents or five dollars a yard, or whether the gown itself is quite in fashion, they know whether the owner carries it well, and whether the material, style and color are becoming to her. Perhaps, on the whole, a man of good taste is a better judge than a woman as to whether she is becomingly dressed. This is because they regard the subject from entirely different standpoints. The stylishly gowned woman is, to the average woman, well dressed, but not necessarily so to the man. It is a perpetual wonder to some men why women have not the courage to reject certain combinations and certain styles of dress that are inharmonious and ugly in themselves, and, consequently, unbecoming to the one who wears them.
Years ago certain colors were thought to be becoming to certain types of women. There was an undisputed tradition in regard to the colors which the blonde should wear, and also what ones were becoming to the brunette. This was not a dictate of fashion; it was a fact ascertained by experience. Of late these traditions have been disregarded by fashion, and the stylish woman wears any color or combination she pleases, but often at the sacrifice of her good looks.
Fashion cannot change the laws of cause and effect—the laws of harmony—and if the decided brunette chooses to wear colors which are becoming only to blondes she does it at the expense of half her natural beauty. Men feel this and wonder what is amiss.
A few years ago fashion made quite common a style of sailor hat with diminutive crown made in the shape of an hour-glass. They were ugly in themselves, and when perched upon the head detracted from the beauty of any face. Nothing could be more ridiculous than the sight of a stout, tall girl, with broad hips and prominent features, marching along the street with her head surmounted by that parody on the most becoming of all hats for a young woman—the sailor. One at once called to mind the dice-box which the negro minstrel wears to make himself appear as funny as possible. One man wittily characterized them as "the hats that wore corsets." Men never liked them, but thousands of them were worn.
From a man's point of view it would be far better if women made a more comprehensive and sensible study of their individual needs in dress and did not blindly follow the decrees of fashion; if more women would realize that the garment suitable to a tall, slim figure, is utterly inappropriate to a stout, short one. When Sara Bernhardt invented the glove which was to give size and form to her thin and poorly shaped arm, she recognized the highest aim of fashion. When a woman is in need of a new hat or bonnet, a man's advice would be: "Hunt the tables until you find one which, in shape and trimming, is suitable and becoming to you. Never mind if it is not the very latest style; if it suits your face and figure, take it, and you will not be sorry."
In furnishing a room we understand that we should put in it only what makes the room look better—not what is simply pretty in itself; and if women would follow a similar plan in dress,—wear only what is becoming to them, and not wear things, simply because they think them pretty and fashionable, men would be better pleased. Man is attracted by a woman's beauty itself, and whether she has just the latest modes or not seldom interests him in the least. So the girl who would dress to please men, should, first of all, wear what will show off her natural attractiveness of face and figure to the best advantage; after that she may be as fashionable as possible.
Without doubt many girls attach too much importance to dress as a means of attracting the other sex. It is frequently the case that, when a young lady is invited to a social function, her first thought is, "What shall I wear?" Her second thought is, "What shall I wear?" This question is with her much of the time until she goes to the place where she is to be entertained; and as she enters the room her first thought is, "I wonder how I look." If, upon an examination of the other young ladies present, she concludes that she is as well dressed as anyone there, she experiences a feeling of restfulness and of satisfaction, and enjoys the evening. She imagines she must be an object of interest to the men, and to an extent she is.
Men like women to be "well groomed." They take in her whole appearance at a glance, and then pay but little further attention to the question of gowns, ribbons, slippers or sashes. They want to be entertained and amused. If the only preparation a young lady has made to render herself attractive and interesting is the care bestowed upon her personal appearance; if her resources for attracting consist only of a pretty face and a graceful figure in a pretty gown, she will never become famous for her conquests.
Simplicity and exquisitely fresh neatness and daintiness are to a man more attractive than any extravagance of fashion or costliness of material. No man was ever induced to propose to a girl by the splendor of her costume. Of course it would be absurd to assert that physical beauty is of no value, or that dress is of little importance. That girl who is born physically beautiful, is fortunate indeed, and any girl of common sense knows that an attractive gown or a becoming hat is of importance. The great thing for her to understand is that there must be something better under the becoming hat than a pretty face, for her own happiness, and if she would be very attractive to others.
Just as there are some persons who are said to be born magnetic, so some women are supposed to have a peculiarly attractive way of wearing clothes which defies imitation.
Said a writer in the Springfield Republican: "There is a subtle something which one cannot get on the microscopic slide, which refuses to be reduced to percentages, which baffles description, and that is the manner in which some women wear their clothes. Two girls with faces of equal value and garments of identical texture will fail to produce equivalent effects, because one has this indefinable quality, and the other has not. Consequently we often hear it said that some girls are more attractive in calico than others in richer material."
That there is a marked difference in the way different women wear their clothes, no one will deny, but because some girls look and appear to better advantage than others in the same material, is it necessary to regard it as beyond comprehension, or to declare that it "baffles description"? The writer did not go far enough in his description of the two girls. While their faces were of equal value, and their clothing was of the same material, there might be other differences which would account for the "indefinable quality." Possibly one was pleasing in manner and the other not. One was awkward in person and in speech, while the other was tactful and graceful. One was dull; the other interesting. The difference was one of physical and mental characteristics, and not a quality that "baffles description." Indeed it is a difference easily understood and analyzed.
If two girls have faces and forms of equal value, and are equally graceful, tactful and well mannered, their clothes, if of the same form and material, will be worn in much the same way, and will produce much the same effect.
No man, whatever his position in the world may be, can afford to be careless about his personal appearance. Dress may not make the man, but we all form in our minds a very clear idea of what a man is by his dress. We gain our first impression of persons by what they have on; our second judgment is formed from their conversation and manner.
The well dressed man is more attractive to others, and he feels much better himself than he would if carelessly attired. Have you noticed the wonderful transformation which takes place in a man when he doffs his everyday clothes and dons a dress suit? During the day he may have an untidy and even a slovenly appearance, but as soon as he puts on a well laundered shirt, a high standing collar, a fresh lawn tie, and a dress suit, he seems completely changed. He looks from five to ten years younger, and from his manner you know that he feels younger. He is on better terms with himself and with the world.
Every woman likes a man better for being well dressed. She may excuse, or overlook, carelessness or even slovenliness in his personal appearance, if she is very fond of him, but she would like him much more if he were neat and tidy and tasteful. She may forgive his green and yellow necktie, she may overlook his soiled linen, she may make no reference to his coat with its collar covered with dust and dandruff; she may not let him know that she has even noticed any of these things, but she has. She thinks of them whenever he is with her, and sometimes when she is away from him, and she wishes he were different. She may like him in spite of these defects. Women usually like a man in spite of things. If a man noticed half as many things about a woman that did not please him, he would never love her at all.
Leaving out of the question the fact that women like to have men neat and even elegant in their raiment, no man who is seeking to make his way in business or in a profession, can afford to be careless about his clothes.
"A few men," says The Lewiston Journal, "clothed in the serenity of soul that approaches the insanity of genius can afford to go illy-clothed. President Lincoln was given free license to wear frock coats unbecomingly. Horace Greeley could wear a linen duster with grace and equanimity. But they were unique. They could make fashion look insignificant, but you and I cannot, if we care to move amid the throng of busy people seeking passage on the car of progress."
No better advice has been given to men on the subject of dress than in an article which appeared in Success. A short extract from the article will close this chapter.
"Clothes are one of the accepted standards by which men are judged the world over. They form the chief standard of first impression; so, for that reason alone, it would be difficult to overestimate their importance. They show at a glance whether a man is neat or untidy; careful or careless; methodical or shiftless, and what sort of taste he has. Nothing else about him reflects so much of his personal characteristics. So it is not surprising to be told by those who yearly give employment to thousands of men and boys, that more applicants are turned away on account of their personal appearance than for all other reasons put together. But it would surprise some people very much if they knew how widely this rule is applied.
The well dressed man is one whose clothes do not make him the object of comment, either because they are showy or shabby. He never goes to the extremes of fashion, thereby courting notoriety; he never goes to the other extreme by paying no attention at all to what he wears or how he wears it. He is always modest in his attire. He conforms to the established customs of changing his attire as the occasion demands, without making himself a slave to reform. He does not always wear expensive clothes, nor is it at all necessary that he should. But he is always clean and neat, or, as the present day has it, he is "well groomed."