The word manners comes from the Latin manus, the hand, and literally means the mode in which a thing is handled—behavior, deportment. Manners may be defined as the pleasing or unpleasing expression of our thoughts and intentions, whether in word or action. We may say or do a thing in an agreeable or a disagreeable way. According as we choose the one or the other, our manners may be said to be good or bad.
Good manners are the result of two things.—(a) Self-respect and (b) consideration for the feelings of others. The man who respects himself will be careful to say or do nothing that may seem to others degrading or unworthy. The man who has consideration for the feelings of others will be equally careful to do or say nothing that may give them pain, or be offensive to them.
Good manners beautify character.—It was a celebrated saying of an old bishop, William of Wykeham, "Manners maketh man." This is, however, only partially true. Manners do not make a man any more than good clothes make a man, but if he is made they greatly improve him. Some have been truly excellent who have had an uncouth and unpolished address, but that was rather to their disadvantage than otherwise. "Rough diamonds" are always precious, but a diamond that is cut and polished, while it retains its value, is much more beautiful. Civility of speech, politeness of address, courtesy in our dealings with others, are qualities that adorn a man, whilst rudeness, incivility, roughness in behavior, detract greatly from his value, and injure his usefulness. Tennyson's words are true:
Manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of noble nature and of loyal mind.
Good manners tend greatly to success in life.—Coarseness and gruffness lock doors, gentleness and refinement open them, while the rude, boorish man is shunned by all. Take the case of a speaker addressing a public meeting. What he says is weighty and important. His arguments are powerful and well marshalled, but his speech is uncouth and disagreeable. He says things that are coarse and vulgar. His bad manner vastly takes away from the impression which he desires to make, and which, if his manner had been different, he would have made. Again, two young men serve in a place of business. The one is gentle in his demeanor, meets his customers with a pleasant smile, is always polite. The other is rough in his deportment, apparently does not care whether those he deals with are pleased or not. The one is a favorite with everybody; the other, who may be equally worthy as far as character is concerned, is disliked.
Good manners often disarm opposition.—People may have a prejudice against ourselves personally, or against the cause we represent. It is wonderful, however, how much may be done to soften them by habitual courtesy towards them, and by studiously avoiding anything calculated to offend them or rouse their anger. A wise man will always endeavor to be specially civil towards any one who differs from him. It is related that in the early days of the Abolition movement in the United States, two men went out preaching: one, a sage old Quaker, brave and calm; the other, a fervid young man. When the Quaker lectured, the audience were all attention, and his arguments met with very general concurrence. But when it came to the young man's turn, a tumult invariably ensued, and he was pelted off the platform. Surprised by their different receptions, the young man asked the Quaker the reason. "Friend," he said, "you and I are on the same mission; we preach the same things; how is it that while you are received so cordially, I get nothing but abuse?" "I will tell thee," replied the Quaker; "thee says, 'If you do so and so, you shall be punished,' and I say, 'My friends, if you will but do so and so, you shall not be punished.' It is not what we say, but how we say it." [1] In The Memorials of a Quiet Life it is said of Augustus Hare that, on a road along which he frequently passed, there was a workman employed in its repair who met his gentle questions and observations with gruff answers and sour looks. But as day after day the persevering mildness of his words and manner still continued, the rugged features of the man gave way, and his tone assumed a softer character. Politeness is the oiled key that will open many a rusty lock.
Good manners may be summed up in the one word, Gentleman.—That term implies all that good-manners ought to be. The original derivation of the word is from the Latin gentilis, belonging to a tribe or gens; and in its first signification it applies to those of noble descent or family; but it has come to mean something far wider, and something which every man, however humble, may be—a man of high courtesy and refinement, to whom dishonor is hateful. "What is it," says Thackeray, "to be a gentleman? It is 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." It was said of our Lord by one of the early English poets, that he was
The first true gentleman that ever breathed.
To be a gentleman in all circumstances is the highest idea we can form of good manners. It is what, in our intercourse with others, we should strive to be—to have "high thoughts," as Sir Philip Sidney expresses it, "seated in a heart of courtesy." In Bishop Patteson's life is given the estimate of him, as a true gentleman, by a New Zealand native: "Gentleman-gentleman thought nothing that ought to be done too mean for him. Pig-gentleman never worked." The savage knew by instinct that the good Bishop who came to live among them that he might teach them to be better, who treated them with invariable courtesy and consideration, was a true gentleman, though he had to clean his own hut, to cook his own food, and to mend his own kettles. And he knew also that the man who made others work for him without doing them any good in return, who swore at them and abused them, was only a pig-gentleman, however rich or high in station he might be.
A few advices on the subject of this chapter may be given.