Important as Manner undoubtedly is, in every relation of life, the cultivation of an unexceptionable deportment at home, may, perhaps, be regarded as of primary consequence, in securing the happiness at which all aim, though by means,
——"variable as the shade,
By the light, quivering aspen made."
I think I have already incidentally alluded to the bad taste, to give it no severer name, so commonly exhibited by young persons in this country, in their conduct towards parents. Let nothing tempt you, I pray you, into habits so discreditable. Manhood is never depreciated by any true estimate, when yielding tribute to the claims of age.—Towards your father preserve always a deferential manner, mingled with a certain frankness, indicating that thorough confidence, that entire understanding of each other, which is the best guarantee of good sense in both, and of inestimable value to every young man, blessed with a right-minded parent. Accept the advice dictated by experience with respect, receive even reproof without impatience of manner, and hasten to prove afterwards, that you cherish no resentful remembrance of what may even have seemed to you too great severity, or too manifest an assumption of authority. Heed the counsel of an old man, who "through the loop-holes of retreat" looks calmly on the busy tide of life rolling forever onward, and let the sod that closes over the heart that throbs no more even with affection and anxiety for you, leave for you only the pain of parting—not the haunting demon of remorse. Allow no false pride, no constitutional obstinacy, to interfere with the better impulses of your nature, in your intercourse with your father, or to interrupt for an hour the manly trust that should be between you. And in the inner temple of home, as well as when the world looks on, render him reverence due.
There should be mingled with the habitual deference and attention that marks your manner to your mother, the indescribable tenderness and rendering back of care and watchfulness that betokens remembrance of her love in earlier days. No other woman should ever induce you to forget this truest, most disinterested friend, nor should your manner ever indicate even momentary indifference to her wishes or her affection. Permit me again to refer you to the example of our country's pride in this regard. You will all remember his marked attention, through life, to his only parent, and the fact that his first appearance in public, on a festive occasion, after the triumph of Yorkstown, was in attendance upon his mother at the ball given at Fredericksburgh, in celebration of that event. A fair friend of mine, who has written the most enthusiastically-appreciative description of this memorable scene that I remember to have read, characterizes the manner of Washington as illustrating the moral sublime, to a degree that filled all beholders with admiration. But no one needs the examples of history, or the promptings of friendship, to convince him of a duty to which the impulses of nature unmistakably direct him: all that I, for a moment, suppose you require, is to be reminded that no thoughtlessness should permit your manner to do injustice to your feelings, in this sacred relation of life.
The familiarity of domestic intercourse should never degenerate into a rude disregard for the restraints imposed by refinement, nor an unfeeling indifference to the feelings of others. With brothers and sisters even, the sense of equality should be tempered by habitual self-restraint and courtesy. "No man is great to his valet de chambre"—no man grows, by the superior gifts of nature, or by the power of circumstance, beyond the genial familiarity of domestic intercourse. You may be older and wiser than your brothers, but no prerogatives of birthright, of education, or of intellect can excuse assumption, or make amends for the rupture of the natural tie that is best strengthened by affectionate consideration and respect.
To his sisters, every man owes a peculiar obligation arising from the claim nature gives them to his protection, as well as to his love and sympathy. Nor is this relative claim wholly abrogated even by their being older than he. The attributes and the admitted rights of our sex give even younger brothers the privilege,—and such every well constituted man will consider it,—of assuming towards such relations the position of a friend, confidant and guardian. And the manner of a gentleman will always indicate, unmistakably, the delicacy, the consideration and the respect he considers due to them. I will not assume the possibility of your being indifferent to their love and interest; suffice it to say, that both will be best deserved and preserved by a careful admingling of the observances of politeness practised towards other women, with the playful freedom sanctioned by consanguinity. The world will give you no substitutes for the friends nature provides—they are bound to you by all ties unitedly. Be ever mindful that no rude touch of yours, sunders or even weakens the tenderest chords of the heart.
Since
——"modest the manners by Nature bestowed
On Nature's most exquisite child,"
a man's conduct towards his wife should always indicate respect as well as politeness. No rude familiarity should outrage the delicacy that veils femininity, no outward indifference or neglect betoken disregard of the sacred claims of the woman, whom, next to his mother, every man is bound in honor, to distinguish beyond all others, by courteous observance. If you consider the affection you doubtless took some pains, originally, to win, worth preserving, if you think it of any moment to retain the attributes ascribed to you by the object of that affection, while you made the endeavor to do full justice to yourself in the eyes of your mistress,[4] would it be wise to prefer no further claims to such characteristics by your manner to your wife? I have never forgotten the impression made upon me in youth by an exquisite letter in one of Addison's Spectators, purporting to be written by an old woman, in regard, if I remember, to the very point we are now discussing. It contains, as inclosed to the Solon of polite laws in that day, a note represented to have been written to her, by the husband of the lady, from a London coffee-house, upon some emergency, which is the very embodiment of gentle courtesy, and concluding with a respectful apology for the coarse paper, and other unseemly appliances of the communication. "Could you see the withered hand that indites this, dear Mr. Spectator," says the correspondent of Addison, "you would be still more impressed by the gallantry that remains thus unimpaired by time," or words to that effect. I have not the original to transcribe from, and the copy in my mental tablets is a little dimmed by the wear of years. But though the exact phraseology of the number I allude to is indistinct, I repeat that I have a thousand times recalled the substance with the same pure pleasure and admiration. I have not half done justice to it, and, indeed, I am almost ashamed to have so poorly sketched a picture whose beauty you may best appreciate by personal inspection. No tyro should attempt a copy of the production of an old master—especially when the mental magician fails to place the original before his mind's eye,
"Pictured fair, in memory's mystic glass."