The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners Part 12

No truly modest and dignified woman will incur such obligations. And no gentleman who really respects her will offer her any thing more than a bouquet, a book, one or two autographs of distinguished persons, or a few relics or mementos of memorable places--things that derive their chief value from a.s.sociations. But to present a young lady with articles of jewellery, or of dress, or with a costly ornament for the centre-table, (unless she is his affianced wife,) ought to be regarded as an offence, rather than a compliment, excusable only in a man sadly ignorant of the refinements of society. And if he is so, she should set him right, and civilly, but firmly, refuse to be his debtor.

Yet, we are sorry to say, that there are ladies so rapacious, and so mean, that they are not ashamed to give broad hints to gentlemen, (particularly those gentlemen who are either very young or very old,) regarding certain beautiful card-cases, bracelets, essence-bottles, &c.

which they have seen and admired,--even going so far as to fall in love with elegant shawls, scarfs, splendid fans, and embroidered handkerchiefs. And their admiration is so violent, and so reiterated, that the gentleman knows not how to resist; he therefore puts them in possession of a gift far too costly for any woman of delicacy to accept.

In such cases, the father or mother of the young lady should oblige her to return the present. This has been done.

There are ladies who keep themselves supplied with certain articles of finery, (for instance, white kid gloves,) by laying ridiculous wagers with gentlemen, knowing that, whether winning or losing, the gentleman, out of gallantry, always pays. No lady should ever lay wagers, even with one of her own s.e.x. It is foolish and unfeminine--and no man likes her any the better for indulging in the practice.

Some young ladies, who profess a sort of daughterly regard for certain wealthy old gentlemen, are so kind as to knit purses or work slippers for them, or some other nick-nacks, (provided always that the "dear old man" has a character for generosity,) for they know that he will reward them by a handsome present of some bijou of real value. And yet they may be a.s.sured that the kind old gentleman (whom "they mind no more than if he was their pa") sees through the whole plan, knows why the purse was knit, or the slippers worked, and esteems the kind young lady accordingly.

Another, and highly reprehensible way of extorting a gift, is to have what is called a philopena with a gentleman. This very silly joke is when a young lady, in cracking almonds, chances to find two kernels in one sh.e.l.l; she shares them with a beau; which ever first calls out "_philopena_," on their next meeting, is ent.i.tled to receive a present from the other; and she is to remind him of it till he remembers to comply. So much nonsense is often talked on the occasion, that it seems to expand into something of importance; and the gentleman thinks he can do no less, than purchase for the lady something very elegant, or valuable; particularly if he has heard her tell of the munificence of other beaux in their philopenas.

There is great want of delicacy and self-respect in philopenaism, and no lady who has a proper sense of her dignity _as a lady_ will engage in any thing of the sort.

In presenting a dress to a friend whose circ.u.mstances are not so affluent as your own, and who you know will gladly receive it, select one of excellent quality, and of a colour that you think she will like.

She will feel mortified, if you give her one that is low-priced, flimsy, and of an unbecoming tint. Get an ample quant.i.ty, so as to allow a piece to be cut off and laid by for a new body and sleeves, when necessary.

And to make the gift complete, buy linen for the body-lining; stiff, glazed muslin for the facings; b.u.t.tons, sewing-silk, and whatever else may be wanted. This will save her the cost of these things.

When you give a dress to a poor woman, it is far better to buy for her a substantial new one, than to bestow on her an old thin gown of your own.

The poor have little leisure to sew for themselves; and second-hand fine clothes last them but a very short time before they are fit only for the rag-bag.

If you are going to have a party, and among your very _intimate_ friends is one whose circ.u.mstances will not permit her to incur the expense of buying a handsome new dress for the occasion, and if she has no choice but to stay away, or to appear in a costume very inferior to that of the other ladies, you may (if you can well afford it) obviate this difficulty by presenting her with a proper dress-pattern, and other accessories. This may be managed anonymously, but it will be better to do it with her knowledge. It will be a very gratifying mark of your friendship; and she ought to consider it as such, and not refuse it from a feeling of false pride. Of course, it will be kept a secret from all but yourselves. In the overflow of grat.i.tude _she_ may speak of it to others, but for _you_ to mention it would be ungenerous and indelicate in the extreme. We are glad to say that ladies of fortune often make gifts of party-dresses to their less-favoured friends.

In sending a present, always pay in advance the expense of transmitting it, so that it may cost nothing at all to the receiver. You may send by the Mail a package of any size, weighing not more than four pounds, paying the postage yourself at the office from whence it goes. It will then be delivered at the door of your friend, without further charge.

CHAPTER XV.

CONVERSATION.

Conversation is the verbal interchange of thoughts and feelings. To form a _perfect_ conversationist, many qualifications are requisite. There must be knowledge of the world, knowledge of books, and a facility of imparting that knowledge; together with originality, memory, an intuitive perception of what is best to say, and best to omit, good taste, good temper, and good manners. An agreeable and instructive talker has the faculty of going "from gay to grave, from lively to serene," without any apparent effort; neither skimming so slightly over a variety of topics as to leave no impression of any, or dwelling so long upon one subject as to weary the attention of the hearers. Persons labouring under a monomania, such as absorbs their whole mind into one prevailing idea, are never pleasant or impressive talkers. They defeat their own purpose by recurring to it perpetually, and rendering it a perpetual fatigue. A good talker should cultivate a temperance in talking; so as not to talk too much, to the exclusion of other good talkers. Conversation is dialogue, not monologue. It was said of Madame de Stael that she did not converse, but delivered orations.

To be a perfect conversationist, a good voice is indispensable--a voice that is clear, distinct, and silver-toned. If you find that you have a habit of speaking too low, "reform it altogether." It is a bad one; and will render your talk unintelligible.

Few things are more delightful than for one intelligent and well-stored mind to find itself in company with a kindred spirit--each understanding the other, catching every idea, and comprehending every allusion. Such persons will become as intimate in half an hour, as if they had been personally acquainted for years.

On the other hand, the pleasure of society is much lessened by the habit in which many persons indulge, of placing themselves always in the opposition, controverting every opinion, and doubting every fact. They talk to you as a lawyer examines a witness at the bar; trying to catch you in some discrepancy that will invalidate your testimony; fixing their scrutinizing eyes upon your face "as if they would look you through," and scarcely permitting you to say, "It is a fine day,"

without making you prove your words. Such people are never popular.

n.o.body likes perpetual contradiction, especially when the subject of argument is of little or no consequence. In young people this dogmatic practice is generally based upon vanity and impertinence. In the old it is prompted by pride and selfishness. We doubt if in the present day the talk and manners of Johnson would have been tolerated in really good society.

Unless he first refers to it himself, never talk to a gentleman concerning his profession; at least do not question him about it. For instance, you must not expect a physician to tell you how his patients are affected, or to confide to you any particulars of their maladies.

These are subjects that he will discuss only with their relatives, or their nurses. It is also very improper to ask a lawyer about his clients, or the cases in which he is employed. A clergyman does not like always to be talking about the church. A merchant, when away from his counting-house, has no wish to engage in business-talk with ladies; and a mechanic is ever willing "to leave the shop behind him." Every American is to be supposed capable of conversing on miscellaneous subjects; and he considers it no compliment to be treated as if he knew nothing but what the Scotch call his "bread-winner." Still, there are some few individuals who like to talk of their bread-winner. If you perceive this disposition, indulge them, and listen attentively. You will learn something useful, and worth remembering.

Women who have begun the world in humble life, and have been necessitated to give most of their attention to household affairs, are generally very shy in talking of housewifery, after their husbands have become rich, and are living in style, as it is called. Therefore, do not annoy them by questions on domestic economy. But converse as if they had been ladies always.

Lord Erskine, having lived a bachelor to an advanced age, finally married his cook, by way of securing her services, as she had frequently threatened to leave him. After she became Lady Erskine she lost all knowledge of cookery, and it was a mortal affront to hint the possibility of her knowing how any sort of eatable should be prepared for the table.

Never remind any one of the time when their situation was less genteel, or less affluent than at present, or tell them that you remember their living in a small house, or in a remote street. If they have not moral courage to talk of such things themselves, it is rude in you to make any allusion to them.

On the other hand, if invited to a fashionable house, and to meet fashionable company, it is not the time or place for you to set forth the comparative obscurity of your own origin, by way of showing that you are not proud. If _you_ are not proud, it is most likely that your entertainers may be, and they will not be pleased at your ultra-magnanimity in thus lowering yourself before their aristocratic guests. These communications should be reserved for _tete-a-tetes_ with old or familiar friends, who have no more pride than yourself.

When listening to a circ.u.mstance that is stated to have actually occurred to the relater, even if it strikes you as being very extraordinary, and not in conformity to your own experience, it is rude to reply, "Such a thing never happened to _me_." It is rude because it seems to imply a doubt of the narrator's veracity; and it is foolish, because its not having happened to _you_ is no proof that it could not have happened to any body else. Slowness in belief is sometimes an evidence of ignorance, rather than of knowledge. People who have read but little, travelled but little, and seen but little of the world out of their own immediate circle, and whose intellect is too obtuse to desire any new accession to their own small stock of ideas, are apt to think that nothing can be true unless it has fallen under their own limited experience. Also, they may be so circ.u.mstanced that nothing in the least out of the common way is likely to disturb the still water of their pond-like existence.

A certain English n.o.bleman always listens incredulously when he hears any person descanting on the inconveniences of travelling on the continent, and relating instances of bad accommodations and bad fare; uncomfortable vehicles, and uncomfortable inns; the short beds and narrow sheets of Germany; the slow and lumbering diligence-riding of France; the garlicky stews of Spain with a feline foundation; the little vine-twig fires in the chilly winters of Northern Italy; and various other ills, which the flesh of travellers is heir to;--the duke always saying, "Now really _I_ never experienced any of these discomforts, much as I have traversed the continent. None of these inconveniences ever come in my way." And how should they, when, being a man of enormous wealth, he always travels with a cavalcade of carriages; a retinue of servants; a wagon-load of bedding and other furniture; a cook, with cooking-utensils, and lots of luxurious eatables to be cooked at stopping-places--his body-coach (as it is called) being a horse-drawn palace. What inconveniences can possibly happen to _him_?

When you hear a gentleman speak in praise of a lady whom you do not think deserving of his commendations, you will gain nothing by attempting to undeceive him; particularly if she is handsome. Your dissenting from his opinion he will, in all probability, impute to envy, or ill-nature; and therefore the only impression you can make will be against yourself.

Even if you have reason to dislike the lady, recollect that few are without some good points both of person and character. And it will be much better for you to pa.s.s over her faults in silence, and agree with him in commending what is really commendable about her. What he would, perhaps, believe implicitly if told to him by a man, he would attribute entirely to jealousy, or to a love of detraction if related by a woman.

Above all, if a gentleman descants on the beauty of a lady, and in your own mind you do not coincide with his opinion, refrain, on your part, from criticizing invidiously her face and figure, and do not say that "though her complexion may be fine, her features are not regular;" that "her nose is too small," or "her eyes too large," or "her mouth too wide." Still less disclose to him the secret of her wearing false hair, artificial teeth, or tinging her cheeks with rouge. If she is a bold, forward woman, he will find that out as soon as yourself, and sooner too,--and you may be sure that though he may amuse himself by talking and flirting with her, he in reality regards her as she deserves.

If a foreigner chances, in your presence, to make an unfavourable remark upon some custom or habit peculiar to your country, do not immediately take fire and resent it; for, perhaps, upon reflection, you may find that he is right, or nearly so. All countries have their national character, and no character is perfect, whether that of a nation or an individual. If you know that the stranger has imbibed an erroneous impression, you may calmly, and in a few words, endeavour to convince him of it. But if he shows an unwillingness to be convinced, and tells you that what he has said he heard from good authority; or that, before he came to America, "his mind was made up," it will be worse than useless for you to continue the argument. Therefore change the subject, or turn and address your conversation to some one else.

Lady Morgan's d.u.c.h.ess of Belmont very properly checks O'Donnell for his ultra-nationality, and advises him not to be always running a tilt with every Englishman he talks to, continually seeming as if ready with the war-cry of "St. Patrick for Ireland, against St. George for England."

Dr. Johnson was speaking of Scotland with his usual severity, when a Caledonian who was present, started up, and called out, "Sir, _I_ was born in Scotland." "Very well, sir," said the cynic calmly, "I do not see why so small a circ.u.mstance should make any change in the national character."

English strangers complain (and with reason) of the American practice of imposing on their credulity, by giving them false and exaggerated accounts of certain things peculiar to this country, and telling them, as truths, stories that are absolute impossibilities; the amus.e.m.e.nt being to see how the John Bulls swallow these absurdities. Even General Washington diverted himself by mystifying Weld the English traveller, who complained to him at Mount Vernon of musquitoes so large and fierce that they bit through his cloth coat. "Those are nothing," said Washington, "to musquitoes I have met with, that bite through a thick leather boot." Weld expressed his astonishment, (as well he might;) and, when he "put out a book," inserted the story of the boot-piercing insects, which he said _must_ be true, as he had it from no less a person than General Washington.

It is a work of supererogation to furnish falsehoods for British travellers. They can manufacture them fast enough. Also, it is ungenerous thus to sport with their ignorance, and betray them into ridiculous caricatures, which they present to the English world in good faith. We hope these tricks are not played upon any of the best cla.s.s of European travel-writers.

When in Europe, (in England particularly,) be not over sensitive as to remarks that may be made on your own country; and do not expect every one around you to keep perpetually in mind that you are an American; nor require that they should guard every word, and keep a constant check on their conversation, lest they should chance to offend your republican feelings. The English, as they become better acquainted with America, regard us with more favour, and are fast getting rid of their old prejudices, and opening their eyes as to the advantages to be derived from cultivating our friendship instead of provoking our enmity. They have, at last, all learnt that our language is theirs, and they no longer compliment newly-arrived Americans on speaking English "quite well." It is not many years since two young ladies from one of our Western States, being at a party at a very fashionable mansion in London, were requested by the lady of the house to talk a little American; several of her guests being desirous of hearing a specimen of that language. One of the young ladies mischievously giving a hint to the other, they commenced a conversation in what school-girls call _gibberish_; and the listeners, when they had finished, gave various opinions on the American tongue, some p.r.o.nouncing it very soft, and rather musical; others could not help saying candidly that they found it rather harsh. But all agreed that it resembled no language they had heard before.

There is no doubt that by the ma.s.ses, better English is spoken in America than in England.

However an Englishman or an Englishwoman may boast of their intimacy with "the n.o.bility and gentry," there is one infallible rule by which the falsehood of these pretensions may be detected. And that is in the misuse of the letter H, putting it where it should not be, and omitting it where it should. This unaccountable practice prevails, more or less, in all parts of England, but is unknown in Scotland and Ireland. It is never found but among the middle and lower cla.s.ses, and by polished and well-educated people is as much laughed at in England as it is with us.

A relative of ours being in a stationer's shop in St. Paul's Church Yard, (the street surrounding the cathedral,) heard the stationer call his boy, and tell him to "go and take the babby out, and give him a _hairing_--the babby having had no _hair_ for a week." We have heard an Englishman talk of "taking an _ouse_ that should have an _ot_ water pipe, and a _hoven_." The same man asked a young lady "if she had _eels_ on her boots." We heard an Englishwoman tell a servant to "bring the _arth_ brush, and sweep up the _hashes_." Another a.s.sured us that "the American ladies were quite _hignorant_ of _hetiquette_."

We have actually seen a ridiculous bill sent seriously by a Yorkshireman who kept a livery-stable in Philadelphia. The items were, _verbatim_--

D. C.

anosafada 2 50 takinonimome 0 37

No reader can possibly guess this--so we will explain that the first line, in which all the words run into one, signifies "An orse af a day,"--or "A horse half a day." The second line means "takin on im ome,"--or "Taking of him home."

English travellers are justly severe on the tobacco-chewing and spitting, that though exploded in the best society, is still too prevalent among the million. All American ladies can speak feelingly on this subject, for they suffer from it in various ways. First, the sickening disgust without which they cannot witness the act of expectoration performed before their faces. Next, the danger of tobacco-saliva falling on their dresses in the street, or while travelling in steamers and rail-cars. Then the necessity of walking through the abomination when leaving those conveyances; treading in it with their shoes; and wiping it up with the hems of their gowns. We know an instance of the crown of a lady's white-silk bonnet being bespattered with tobacco-juice, by a man spitting out of a window in one of the New York hotels. A lady on the second seat of a box at the Chestnut-street theatre, found, when she went home, the back of her pelisse entirely spoilt, by some man behind not having succeeded in trying to spit past her--or perhaps he did not try. Why should ladies endure all this, that men may indulge in a vulgar and deleterious practice, pernicious to their own health, and which they cannot acquire without going through a seasoning of disgust and nausea?

It is very unmannerly when a person begins to relate a circ.u.mstance or an anecdote, to stop them short by saying, "I have heard it before."

Still worse, to say you do not wish to hear it at all. There are people who set themselves against listening to any thing that can possibly excite melancholy or painful feelings; and profess to hear nothing that may give them a sad or unpleasant sensation. Those who have so much tenderness for themselves, have usually but little tenderness for others. It is impossible to go through the world with perpetual sunshine over head, and unfading flowers under foot. Clouds will gather in the brightest sky, and weeds choke up the fairest primroses and violets.

And we should all endeavour to prepare ourselves for these changes, by listening with sympathy to the manner in which they have affected others.

No person of good feelings, good manners, or true refinement, will entertain their friends with minute descriptions of sickening horrors, such as barbarous executions, revolting punishments, or inhuman cruelties perpetrated on animals. We have never heard an officer dilate on the dreadful spectacle of a battlefield; a scene of which no description can ever present an adequate idea; and which no painter has ever exhibited in all its shocking and disgusting details. Physicians do not talk of the dissecting-room.

Unless you are speaking to a physician, and are interested in a patient he is attending, refrain in conversation from entering into the particulars of revolting diseases, such as scrofula, ulcers, cutaneous afflictions, &c. and discuss no terrible operations--especially at table. There are women who seem to delight in dwelling on such disagreeable topics.

If you are attending the sick-bed of a friend, and are called down to a visiter, speak of her illness with delicacy, and do not disclose all the unpleasant circ.u.mstances connected with it; things which it would grieve her to know, may, if once told, be circulated among married women, and by them repeated to their husbands. In truth, upon most occasions, a married woman is not a safe confidant. She will a.s.suredly tell every thing to her husband; and in all probability to his mother and sisters also--that is, every thing concerning her friends--always, perhaps, under a strict injunction of secrecy. But a secret entrusted to more than two or three persons, is soon diffused throughout the whole community.

A man of some humour was to read aloud a deed. He commenced with the words, "Know one woman by these presents." He was interrupted, and asked why he changed the words, which were in the usual form, "Know all men by these presents." "Oh!" said he, "'tis very certain that all men will soon know it, if one woman does."