Strangely enough, these irrepressibles are seldom encountered at home; they seem to develop on the steamer and burst into full bloom only on the beaten tourist trails—which is a pity, because if they only developed at home instead, we might be intensely annoyed but at least we should not be mortified before our own citizens about other fellow-citizens. But to a sensitive American it is far from pleasant to have the country he loves represented by a tableful of vulgarians noisily attracting the attention of a whole dining-room, and to have a European say mockingly, "Ah, and those are your compatriots?"
Some years ago, a Russian grand duke sitting next to Mrs. Oldname at a luncheon in a Monte Carlo restaurant, said to her:
"Your country puzzles me! How can it be possible that it holds without explosion such antagonistic types as the many charming Americans we are constantly meeting, and at the same time—" looking at a group who were actually singing and beating time on their glasses with knives and forks—"those!"
A French officer's comment to an American officer with whom he was talking in a club in Paris, quite unconsciously tells the same tale:
"You are liaison officer, I suppose, with the Americans? But may I be permitted to ask why you wear their uniform?"
The other smiled: "I am an American!"
"You an American? Impossible! Why, you speak French like a Parisian, you have the manner of a great gentleman!" (un grand seigneur,) which would indicate that the average American does not speak perfect French nor have beautiful manners. There is much excuse for not speaking foreign languages, but there is no excuse whatever for having offensive manners and riding rough-shod over people who own the land—not we, who seem to think we do.
As for "souvenir hunters," perhaps they can explain wherein their pilfering of another's property differs from petty thieving—a distinction which the owner can scarcely be expected to understand. Those who write their names, defacing objects of beauty with their vainglorious smudges and scribblings, are scarcely less culpable.
In France, in Spain, in Italy, grace and politeness of manner is as essential to merest decency as being clothed. In the hotels that are "used to us" (something of a commentary!) our lack of politeness is tolerated; but don't think for a moment it is not paid for! The officer referred to above, who had had the advantage of summer after summer spent in Europe as a boy, was charged just about half what another must pay who has "the rudeness of a savage."
But good manners are good manners everywhere, except that in Latin and Asiatic countries we must, as it seems to us, exaggerate politeness. We must, in France and Italy, bow smilingly; we must, in Spain and the East, bow gravely; but in any event, it is necessary everywhere, except under the American and British flags, to bow—though your bow is often little more than a slight inclination of the head, and a smile—and to show some ceremony in addressing people.