<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<div class="covernote">
<h3 title="">Transcriber’s Note</h3>
<p>The cover image has been fabricated and is placed in the public domain.</p>
</div>
<div class="titlepage">
<h1 title="The Gentleman and Lady’s Book of Politeness and Propriety of Deportment"><SPAN name="pi" id="pi"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>i<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span><small>THE<br/> GENTLEMAN AND LADY’S</small><br/> <big><b>BOOK OF POLITENESS</b></big><br/> <small class="tinycaps">AND</small><br/> <span class="so">PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT</span>,<br/> <small class="tinycaps">DEDICATED TO THE</small><br/> YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES.</h1>
<hr class="tiny" />
<p class="center"><small>BY M<sup>me.</sup> CELNART.</small></p>
<hr class="tiny" />
<p class="center"><small class="tinycaps">TRANSLATED FROM THE SIXTH PARIS EDITION,<br/>
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.</small></p>
<hr class="tiny" />
<p class="center spread">BOSTON.<br/><small>ALLEN AND TICKNOR,</small><br/><small class="tinycaps">AND<br/>CARTER, HENDEE & CO</small><br/>1833.</p>
</div>
<div class="chunk">
<hr class="halfup" />
<p><SPAN name="pii" id="pii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>ii<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Entered according to Act of Congress,
the year 1833, by <span class="smcap">Allen and Ticknor</span>, in the
Clerk’s office of the District Court of the District
of Massachusetts.</p>
<hr class="halfdown" />
<p class="center spaceafter"><small class="tinycaps"><span class="so">BOSTON:</span><br/>Kane and Co......127 Washington Street.</small></p>
<h2 title="PREFACE"><SPAN name="piii" id="piii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>iii<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>PREFACE<!-- TN: original reads "PRFEACE" -->.</h2>
<p>The present work has had an extensive circulation
in France, the country which we are
accustomed to consider as the genial soil of
politeness; and the publishers have thought
it would be rendering a useful service on this
side of the Atlantic to issue a translation of it.</p>
<p>Some foreign visitors in our country, whose
own manners have not always given them a
right to be censors of others, have very freely
told us what we ought <em>not</em> to do; and it will
be useful to know from respectable authority,
what is done in polished society in Europe,
and, of course, what we <em>ought to do</em>, in order
to avoid all just censure. This object, we are
<SPAN name="piv" id="piv"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>iv<span class="ns">]
</span></span>confident, will be more effectually accomplished
by the study of the principles and rules
contained in the present volume, than by any
other of the kind.</p>
<p>By persons who are deemed competent
judges in such a case, this little work has been
pronounced to be one of the most useful and
practical works extant upon the numerous and
delicate topics which are discussed in it. We
are aware, that a man can no more acquire
the ease and elegance of a finished gentleman,
by any manual of this kind, than in the fine
arts he could become a skilful painter or sculptor
by studying books alone, without practice.
It is, however, equally true, that the <em>principles</em>
of Politeness may be studied, as well as the
principles of the arts. At the same time, intercourse
with polite society, in other words,
<em>practice</em>, as in the case of the arts, must do the
rest.</p>
<p>The reader will find in this volume some
<SPAN name="pv" id="pv"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>v<span class="ns">]
</span></span>rules founded on customs and usages peculiar
to France and other countries, where the Roman
Catholic religion is established. But it
was thought better to retain them in the work,
than to mutilate it, by making such material
alterations as would have been occasioned by
expunging every thing of that description. In
our liberal and tolerant country, these peculiarities
will give offence to none; while to
many, their novelty, at least, will be interesting.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The Translator.</span></p>
<p><i>Boston, May</i> 6, 1833.</p>
<h2 title="CONTENTS"><SPAN name="pvii" id="pvii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>vii<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CONTENTS.</h2>
<h3 title="">PART I.</h3>
<table summary="Contents Part I">
<tr>
<th> </th><th> </th><th><small class="tinycaps">Page.</small></th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3"><small class="smcap">Introduction.</small></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety of Deportment, and its Advantages</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#pxiii">iii</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety of Conduct in Relation to Religious
Duties</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p1">1</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of respectful Deportment at Church</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p1i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of religious Propriety in our Intercourse
with the World</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p6">6</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety of Conduct in Relation to Domestic
Duties</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p9">9</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER III.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety of Conduct in Conjugal and Domestic
Relations</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p12">12</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3"><SPAN name="pviii" id="pviii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>viii<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER IV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety as regards one’s self</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p19">19</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of the Toilet</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p19i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Reputation</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p27">27</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER V.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Propriety in regard to one’s Business or Profession</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p32">32</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Politeness of Shopkeepers and Customers</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p32i"><i>ibid.<!-- TN original has just "ib." --></i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Politeness between Persons in Office and
the Public</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p38">38</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Politeness of Lawyers and their Clients</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p39">39</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>4. Politeness of Physicians and their Patients</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p40">40</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>5. Politeness of Artists and Authors, and
the deference due to them</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p42">42</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>6. Politeness of Military Men</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p46">46</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>7. Politeness of Ecclesiastics and Females
of Religious Orders; and the deference
due to them</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p48">48</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3 title="">PART II.<br/><small class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT IN REGARD TO OUR SOCIAL RELATIONS.</small></h3>
<table summary="Contents Part II">
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Deportment in the Street</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p50">50</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3"><SPAN name="pix" id="pix"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>ix<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of different kinds of Visits</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p59">59</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER III.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of the Manner of receiving Visitors</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p75">75</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER IV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of the Carriage of the Body</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p82">82</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER V.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Physical Proprieties in Conversation</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p88">88</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Physical Observances in Conversation</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p88i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Gestures</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p90">90</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Of the Talent of listening to others</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p92">92</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>4. Of Pronunciation</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p97">97</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>5. Of Correctness in Speaking</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p100">100</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER VI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of the Moral Observances in Conversation</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p104">104</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Formal and Vulgar Usages</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p104i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Questions and frequently recurring
Expressions</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p110">110</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Of Narrations, Analysis, and Digressions</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p111">111</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>4. Of Suppositions and Comparisons</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p118">118</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>5. Of Discussions and Quotations</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p119">119</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>6. Of Pleasantry, Proverbs, Puns, and Bon
Mots</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p121">121</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p><SPAN name="px" id="px"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>x<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>7. Of Eulogiums, Complainings, Improprieties
in general, and Prejudices</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p125">125</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER VII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Epistolary Composition</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p130">130</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Propriety in Letter Writing</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p130i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of the Interior and Exterior Form of
Letters</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p136">136</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER VIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Additional Rules in respect to the Social Relations</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p146">146</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of an obliging Deportment</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p146i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Presents</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p151">151</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Of Advice</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p154">154</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>4. Of Discretion</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p155">155</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER IX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Travelling</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p159">159</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3 title="">PART III.<br/><small class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY IN RELATION TO PLEASURES.</small></h3>
<table summary="Contents Part III">
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Entertainments.</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p163">163</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3"><SPAN name="pxi" id="pxi"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xi<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Promenades, Parties, and Amusements</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p171">171</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Promenades</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p171i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Parties and Amusements</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p175">175</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Little Sports and Games of Society</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p180">180</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER III.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Balls, Concerts, and Public Shows</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p182">182</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Balls</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p182i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Concerts</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p188">188</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>3. Of Public Shows and Spectacles</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p189">189</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER IV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of the Duties of Hospitality</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p193">193</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3 title="">PART IV.<br/><small class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY AS REGARDS OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES.</small></h3>
<table summary="Contents Part IV">
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Marriage and Baptism</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p196">196</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Marriage</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p196i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Baptism</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p202">202</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="center" colspan="3">CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p>Of Duties toward the Unfortunate</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p205">205</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="smcap">Sect.</td>
<td><p>1. Of Duties toward the Sick, Infirm, and
Unfortunate</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p205i"><i>ibid.</i></SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td><p>2. Of Funerals and Mourning</p>
</td>
<td class="right"><SPAN href="#p208">208</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<div class="chunk">
<h2 title="PART I"><SPAN name="pxiii" id="pxiii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xiii<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>PART I.</h2>
<h3 title="Introduction: Of Propriety of Deportment, and its Advantages" ><span class="tinycaps">INTRODUCTION.</span><br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Propriety of Deportment, and its Advantages.</i></h3>
<p>Propriety of deportment, or <i lang="fr">bienséance</i>, is a happy
union of the moral and the graceful; it should be
considered in two points of view, and ought therefore
to direct us in our important duties, as well as
our more trifling enjoyments. When we regard it
only under this last aspect, some contend that mere
intercourse with the world gives a habit and taste
for those modest and obliging observances which
constitute true politeness; but this is an error. Propriety
of deportment, is the valuable result of a
knowledge of one’s-self, and of respect for the rights
of others; it is a feeling of the sacrifices which are imposed
on self-esteem by our social relations; it is, in
short, a sacred requirement of harmony and affection.
But the usage of the world is merely the gloss, or
rather the imitation of propriety: since instead of
being like that, based upon sincerity, modesty and
courtesy, it consists, in not being constant in
<SPAN name="pxiv" id="pxiv"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xiv<span class="ns">]
</span></span>anything, and in amusing itself by playing off its feelings
and ridicule, against the defects and excellences of
others, provided that this is done with grace, and is
never carried so far as to wound the self-esteem of any
one. Thanks to custom, it is sufficient in order to be
recognised as amiable, that he who is the subject of a
malicious pleasantry may laugh as well as the
author of it. The usage of the world is therefore
often nothing more than a skilful calculation of
vanity, a futile game, a superficial observance of
form, a false politeness which would lead to frivolity
or perfidy, did not true politeness animate it with
delicacy, reserve and benevolence.<!-- TN: period invisible in original --> Would that custom
had never been separated from this virtuous amiableness!
We should then never see well-intentioned
and good people suspicious of politeness; and when
victims to the deceitful, justly exclaim with bitterness,
<em>This is your man of politeness</em>; nor should we
ever have made a distinction between the fixed
principles of virtue, and what is fit and expedient.
The love of good, in a word, virtue, is then the soul
of politeness; the feeling of a just harmony between
our interest and our social relations, is also
indispensable to this agreeable quality. Excessive
gaiety, extravagant joy, great depression, anger,
love, jealousy, avarice, and generally all the passions,
are too often dangerous shoals to propriety of
deportment. Moderation in everything is so essential,
<SPAN name="pxv" id="pxv"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xv<span class="ns">]
</span></span>that it is even a violation of propriety itself to
affect too much the observance of it.</p>
<p>It is to propriety, its justice and attractions, that
we owe all the charm, I might almost say, the
being able to live in society. At once the effect and
cause of civilization, it avails itself of the grand
spring of the human mind, self-love, in order to
purify and ennoble it; to substitute for pride and
all those egotistical or offensive feelings which it
generates, benevolence, with all the amiable and
generous sentiments, which it inspires. In an
assembly of truly polite people, all evil seems to be
unknown; what is just, estimable, and good, or
what we call fit or suitable, is felt on all sides;
and actions, manners and language alike indicate
it. Now if we place in this select assembly,
a person who is a stranger to the advantages of
a polite education, he will at once be made sensible
of the value of it, and will immediately desire to
display the same urbanity by which he has himself
been pleased.</p>
<p>If politeness is necessary in general, it is not less
so in particular cases. Neither rank, talents, fortune,
nor beauty, can dispense with this amenity of
manners; nor can any thing inspire regard or love,
without that graceful affability, that mild dignity,
that elegant simplicity, which make the name of
<em>Frenchman</em> synonymous with <em>amiable</em>, and make
<SPAN name="pxvi" id="pxvi"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xvi<span class="ns">]
</span></span>Paris dear, to whatever has understanding and taste.
If all the world feels the truth of the verse which
is now a proverb,</p>
<p class="display">Cette grâce plus belle encors que
la beauté,<sup><SPAN name="fna1" id="fna1" href="#fn1">1</SPAN></sup></p>
<p>every one also is sensible, that grace in conferring
a favor, affects us more than the favor itself, and
that a kind smile, and an affectionate tone, penetrate
the heart more deeply than the most brilliant elocution.</p>
<p>As to the technical part of politeness, or forms
alone, the intercourse of society, and good advice,
are undoubtedly useful; but the grand secret of
never failing in propriety of deportment, is to have
an intention of always doing what is right. With
such a disposition of mind, exactness in observing
what is proper, appears to all to possess a charm and
influence; and then not only do mistakes become
excusable, but they become even interesting from
their thoughtlessness and naïveté. After the manner
of St. Augustine, who used to say, <cite>Love God,
and then do what you wish</cite>, we would say to those,
just making their début in society, Be modest,
benevolent, and do not distress yourself on account
of the mistakes of your inexperience; a little
<SPAN name="pxvii" id="pxvii"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p </span>xvii<span class="ns">]
</span></span>attention, and the advice of a friend, will soon correct
these trifling errors. Such a friend, I wish to be to
you. In undertaking to revise, and almost entirely
remodel, the <cite>Manual of Good Society</cite>, I have wished
and have engaged to be useful to you. A more
methodical arrangement of the work, more precise
and varied details, in short, important applications
to all conditions and circumstances of life, I venture
to believe, will make this treatise worthy of its
design.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of propriety of conduct in relation to religious duties"><SPAN name="p1" id="p1"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>1<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of propriety of conduct in relation to religious duties.</i></h3>
<p>We have said, that propriety ought to preside
over the sublimest instructions of morality, as it also
regulates the gayest movements of pleasure. We
proceed first, therefore, to consider religious deportment.</p>
<h4 title="Of respectful deportment at Church"><SPAN name="p1i" id="p1i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of respectful deportment at Church.</i></h4>
<p>Religious sentiment is the great, perhaps the only
difference which we find between man and other
animals. However it may absorb you by its depth,
exalt you with delight, or withdraw from you in
misfortune, this mysterious and sublime sentiment
ought always to command your respect. Therefore,
without objecting to particular differences of
worship, never enter a church without submitting to
<SPAN name="p2" id="p2"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>2<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the requirements of religion.<sup><SPAN name="fna2" id="fna2" href="#fn2">2</SPAN></sup> Observe silence, or at
least speak seldom, and in a low voice; uncover
yourself; advance with a slow and grave step; stop,
at the same time making an inclination of your body,
if any ceremony engages the assembly. Whether
the church be Jewish, Catholic, or Protestant, recollect,
that in this place men honor the Creator of the
Universe; that here they seek consolation in their
troubles, and pardon of their sins.</p>
<p>If you visit a church or any similar edifice, from
curiosity, endeavor to do it out of the time of service.
Contemplate silently the pictures, monuments, &c.;
beware of imitating those vandals, who deface with
their obscure and ephemeral names those monuments
which are destined to endure for ages. Do
not like them forget, that the only thing which you
can expect is a smile of contempt from all enlightened
friends of the arts. Do not wait till the keepers
remind you of the remuneration due to their kindness
in conducting you; offering it to them with your
thanks on taking leave; and in order to this, be
always provided with small change. The respect
<SPAN name="p3" id="p3"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>3<span class="ns">]
</span></span>due to the place requires us to abstain from everything
which resembles the cares of business.</p>
<p>I have thus far spoken only the language of
toleration, and of religious worship in general, but I
am now going to use that of faith and devotion. Let
the neatness and modesty of your apparel, and your
discreet and respectful deportment, show that you
perceive what is due to the house of God. Incline
your body on entering; take the holy water;<sup><SPAN name="fna3" id="fna3" href="#fn3">3</SPAN></sup> then
advance by the shortest way, and without precipitation,
to the place which you are to occupy; if possible,
do not change it; neither put yourself in the
passage, nor carry the chairs to a distance; take
two together, to avoid turning your seat as circumstances
may require in the course of the ceremony.<sup><SPAN name="fna4" id="fna4" href="#fn4">4</SPAN></sup></p>
<p><SPAN name="p4" id="p4"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>4<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>If the services have commenced, place yourself in
the rear, in order not to disturb those present by
your coming. The same motive ought to prevent
your going away before the end, except from pressing
necessity.</p>
<p>If you are accompanied by a lady to whom you
owe deference, advance and present to her the holy
water; prepare two chairs for her, and place yourself
near. In leaving church, clear the passage for
her; carry her prayer-book, present her again with
the holy water, and hold the door open to let her
pass. Indeed, these two last marks of politeness
should be shown indiscriminately by well-bred people
to any who happen to be near them, in entering
or leaving the church. Kind regards towards our
neighbors are a worthy accompaniment of devotion.</p>
<p>If on a crowded occasion you have two chairs, it
is well to offer one of them to those who have
none; a man ought even to give up his own to a
lady who might be standing. Every one knows
that it is contrary to the sanctity of the place, to
<SPAN name="p5" id="p5"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>5<span class="ns">]
</span></span>walk in a church as upon a public promenade; to
convene there as in a private house; to cast on one
side and the other looks of curiosity; to have a mien
which displays uneasiness or weariness; to balance
yourself upon the seat, or shake in an annoying
manner that of the person before you; to carry
with you dogs, <span class="nw">packets, &c.</span></p>
<p>During the sermon, it is necessary to endeavor to
make no noise, and to bow with profound respect
every time the preacher pronounces the sacred
name of Jesus Christ.<sup><SPAN name="fna5" id="fna5" href="#fn5">5</SPAN></sup></p>
<p>Whether you give or withhold an offering to the
mendicants of either sex, they should be answered
by a kind salutation.</p>
<p>It is entirely contrary to religious propriety to
press forward, in going to the altar; you ought to
wait in silence your turn, without trying to supplant
those before you; however, should you have any
urgent motives, you can make them known with
mildness and politeness. Disputes which arise with
regard to this, are at the same time an absurdity and
impiety.</p>
<p>When you take a place at the holy table, you
should lay aside gloves, book, cane, &c. It is well
<SPAN name="p6" id="p6"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>6<span class="ns">]
</span></span>for ladies to cover themselves with a veil half
drawn; it is a mark of reverence as well as modesty.</p>
<h4 title="Of religious propriety in our intercourse with the world">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of religious propriety in our intercourse with the
world.</i></h4>
<p>If it is a fundamental principle of propriety of conduct
not to wound any one in his self-esteem,
his tastes, or interests, much more is it necessary to
respect his religious opinions. To make sport of
faith, that powerful, deep and involuntary sentiment,
before which the law yields; to deliver to the pain
of doubting, hearts just become pious and tranquil;
to awaken a spirit of fanaticism and religious excesses;
to cause one’s self to be considered by some as
an imprudent, by others an unworthy person, and
by all as an enemy to politeness and tolerance,—are
the sad results of raillery against religious observances,
raillery, too, almost always dictated by a desire
of showing off one’s wit.</p>
<p>These results take place without any exception;
impious sarcasms in serious people constantly do
injury; but they become still more revolting in the
mouths of females, who, like angels, ought ever to
show themselves lovely, pure, and free from
<SPAN name="p7" id="p7"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>7<span class="ns">]
</span></span>passion; whom Bernardin Saint Pierre designates with
much feeling and justice the <em>pious sex</em>.</p>
<p>We ought not however to proscribe entirely
delicate and happy allusions, or comparisons drawn
from the sacred books, and made in a proper spirit.
It is useless, I think, to adduce instances; suffice it
to add, that rigor alone can reprove them, and that
the occasion sometimes renders them very seasonable.</p>
<p>As to religious discussions, they above all demand
the most reserve and care, since without our
knowledge conscience frequently becomes in them
auxiliary to pride. If then you are unable to command
yourself; if you do not feel enough of logical
power, enough of grace, or at least of exactness of
elocution, to contend with success, avoid controversies;
avoid them through<!-- TN: original eads 'though' --> fear of committing, in the
eyes of weak people, that religion which you defend,
and of exposing yourself to lasting ridicule. But,
whatever be the skill which you exhibit in eluding
the arguments of your adversary, whatever be your
triumph, and although your disposition should urge
you, never turn a serious discussion into jest; from
that moment you would lose all your advantages,
and, although overthrown, your antagonist will
recover himself with this just reflection, that ‘nothing
is proved by a jest.’</p>
<p>Finally, while you manifest on every occasion a
<SPAN name="p8" id="p8"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>8<span class="ns">]
</span></span>sincere and profound respect for religion, beware
above all things of making a proclamation of your
piety. Avoid talking with those in your parish, about
your confessor, and your religious observances. If
you do not distinguish yourself from the crowd, they
will take you for a hypocrite, or a person of small
mind. If you recommend yourself, on the contrary,
by superior merit, they will think that you take
pleasure in showing the contrast which exists between
your exalted talents and your humble faith.
Between ourselves, would they be in the wrong?</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of propriety of conduct in relation to domestic duties"><SPAN name="p9" id="p9"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>9<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of propriety of conduct in relation to domestic duties.</i></h3>
<p>Since we admit that there are duties of propriety
relative to piety, there are also duties relative to
filial piety, that other worship, that familiar veneration
of the Deity, whom our parents represent on
earth. The most sublime, the most touching marks
of religion and of nature unite in commanding us to
love and honor those from whom we have received
life. We shall not offend our readers by supposing
it requisite to insist upon the necessity of fulfilling
a duty which is felt by all correct minds and all
good hearts.</p>
<p>The custom has prevailed of addressing the father
and mother in the second person.<sup><SPAN name="fna6" id="fna6" href="#fn6">6</SPAN></sup> This mark of
great confidence, and affectionate freedom, ought
never to degenerate into an offensive familiarity.
We ought always to address them in a respectful
and kind tone; to anticipate them in every thing;
<SPAN name="p10" id="p10"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>10<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to ask their advice; to receive their reproofs with
submission; to be silent with regard to the errors
they may commit; to show them a lively gratitude
on every occasion; in short, whatever advantage you
have over them, be careful to conceal it, and consider
them always your superiors, your benefactors
and your guides.</p>
<p>Besides the daily marks of deference which we
should show to our parents, there are other particular
attentions for which our affection should seek
every occasion. At certain periods, such as the
new year, the birth day or day of baptism, we should
offer them tender congratulations, or ingeniously
devised presents. We are not allowed to dispense
with these delicate attentions. If you have
success in the sciences or arts, make appropriate
presents to those from whom you have derived the
benefits of your education.</p>
<p>If you are separated from your father and mother,
write to them frequently; let your style be impressed
with a devoted affection; repeat more particularly at
the end of your letters the sentiments of respect and
of love with which you should be inspired.</p>
<p>As to what your uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters,
and cousins require of you, you will know what
are the duties of propriety in that respect, if you
feel how dear family ties are; you will show
<SPAN name="p11" id="p11"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>11<span class="ns">]
</span></span>towards some a respectful, and towards the others
a friendly politeness. They should claim on every
occasion your first visits and your first attentions;
you should identify yourself with them in
all their prosperity or adversity; invite them above
all others to fêtes and meetings at your house,
unless when you assemble a party on a special occasion,
at which they would be entire strangers.
You should always take care to invite your relations
by themselves from time to time, to prove that you
have no intention of slighting them. You may be
more intimate with some of your family, and give
them particular proofs of affection; but in these
meetings you will do well to abstain from every
act of preference.</p>
<p>Without being at all wanting in cordiality, a little
more ceremony should be used towards your relations
by marriage, to whom you indeed owe as
much respect as to your own relations.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of propriety of conduct in conjugal and domestic relations"><SPAN name="p12" id="p12"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>12<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of propriety of conduct in conjugal and domestic relations.</i></h3>
<p>If any thing can render politeness ridiculous, and
even odious, it is the disposition of certain persons,
who in society are moderate, amiable, and gracious,
but in private show themselves morose, rough and
ill-natured. This fault, much too common, is one of
the greatest inconsistencies of the human mind.
You use all your exertions to please the world
which you only see cursorily, and in which you
have only power to procure a few moments of pleasure,
and you neglect to be agreeable to your husband
or wife, from whom you expect the happiness
of a whole life. Perhaps it would be better to be
continually capricious or harsh, for the contrast of
your politeness in the drawing-room with your
impoliteness at home makes you appear still more
odious. Conjugal intimacy, it is true, dispenses
with the etiquette established by politeness, but it
does not dispense with attentions. In the presence
of your wife or husband, you ought never to do
those things which carry with them an idea of disgust,
nor perform those duties of the toilet, which
<SPAN name="p13" id="p13"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>13<span class="ns">]
</span></span>before any one but yourself offend decency and
cleanliness.<sup><SPAN name="fna7" id="fna7" href="#fn7">7</SPAN></sup> One ought never to permit disorder
in his wardrobe under the excuse that he is just up,
or at his own house. To dress with neatness, and
elegant simplicity is important, even at home.</p>
<p>The conversation of husband and wife cannot be
elegant, and sustained in the same manner that it is
in society; it would indeed be superlatively ridiculous
that it should not have interruption or relaxation,
but it should be free from all impoliteness
and indelicacy. If at any time the society of your
husband or wife causes you <i lang="fr">ennui</i>, you ought
neither to say so, nor give any suspicion of the
cause by abruptly changing the conversation. In
all discussions you should watch yourself attentively,
lest domestic familiarity raise itself by degrees to
the pitch of a quarrel. It is especially to females
that this advice is addressed, and to the impressive
words of Scripture, ‘woman was not created for
wrath,’ we may add these, ‘she was created for
gentleness.’</p>
<p>To entertain with a politeness particularly affectionate
the friends of a person with whom you are
connected by marriage; to respect inviolably the
letters which she writes or receives; to avoid
<SPAN name="p14" id="p14"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>14<span class="ns">]
</span></span>prying into the secrets which she conceals from you
through delicacy; never to act contrary to her inclinations,
unless they are injurious to herself, and
even in this case not to oppose her, but to endeavor
to check them with address and kindness; to
beware of confiding to strangers or to domestics the
little vexations which she causes you; to dread like
poison marks of contempt, coldness, suspicion, or
reproaches; to apologize promptly and in an affectionate
manner if you have allowed yourself to run
into any ill humor; to receive her counsels with
attention, and benevolence, and to execute them as
quickly as possible—these are the obligations of propriety
and love, to which husbands possessed of gentleness
bind themselves, by the sanctity of the
vows which they have taken before God. There
is a still more rigorous duty for a new husband,
and for well married persons; they must
abstain in public from every mark of affection too
conspicuous, and every exclusive attention. Married
persons who, in society, place themselves continually
near one another, and who converse and
dance together, do not escape the ridicule to which
their feelings blind them. In society, we ought
above every thing to avoid being personal; for a<!-- TN original reads "a a" -->
husband or a wife, is another self; and we must
forget that <em>self</em>.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p15" id="p15"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>15<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Mothers, in particular, spare no caresses towards
your children, occupy yourselves entirely with
them, unless perhaps you fear to render them proud,
difficult and insupportable; if you fatigue people by
having them always present, if you encourage or
repeat their prattle and their sports; if, on the
other hand, you treat them with severity before
strangers, if you reprimand or punish them, be
assured every one will consider you importunate as
well as ridiculous.</p>
<p>Domestic propriety, which is at once a duty of
justice, religion and humanity, is also a source of
peace and pleasure. Servants treated with suitable
regard, are attentive, zealous and grateful, and consequently
every thing is done with propriety and
affection. Who does not know the charm and value
of this?</p>
<p>Duties of this class require that you should never
command your domestics with hauteur and harshness.
Every time that they render you a service,
it claims an expression, a gesture, or at least a look
of thankfulness; it requires that you should be still
more affectionate towards the domestics of your
acquaintances, and especially towards those of your
friends, whom you ought always to treat kindly.
As to your own domestics, you should carefully
beware of addressing to them any confidential or
<SPAN name="p16" id="p16"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>16<span class="ns">]
</span></span>even useless conversation, for fear of rendering them
insolent or familiar; but propriety requires you to
listen to them with kindness, and give them salutary
advice when it is for their interest. It commands
us also to show them indulgence frequently, in order
to be able, when there is cause, to reprove them
with firmness, without being obliged to have recourse
to the false energy of anger.</p>
<p>The <i lang="fr">ton</i> of domestics ordinarily announces that of
their masters. Never suffer them to remain seated
while answering distinguished persons who ask for
you. Take care that they do it always in a civil
and polite manner; let them lose no time, if there
is occasion, in relieving your visitors of their overshoes,
umbrellas, cloaks, &c.; let them go before,
to save your visitors the trouble of opening and
shutting the door. When an announcement is
made, let them inform themselves respectfully of
the name of the person, and pronounce it while
holding open for them the door of your room. If you
are not there, let them offer a seat, requesting the
guests to wait a moment while they go to call you.</p>
<p>When visitors take leave, domestics ought to
manifest a promptness in opening the outer door;
they should hold the door by the handle, while you
converse with the person whom you reconduct;
they should present them respectfully with
<SPAN name="p17" id="p17"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>17<span class="ns">]
</span></span>whatever garments they may have thrown off, and aid
them in again putting them on; and should, if occasion
requires, light them to the door, going slowly
behind them.</p>
<p>Accustom your domestics never to appear before
you too poorly, or too much dressed; never to sit in
your presence, especially while waiting upon the
table; not to enter into conversation; never to answer
by signs, or in coarse terms.</p>
<p>It is only among the badly educated people of the
small towns that they say, the ‘maid,’ the ‘boy,’
the ‘domestic,’ the ‘servant;’ and among the
proud, ill-bred fashionables, who ape grandeur; the
‘lackey,’ the ‘valet,’ ‘my people;’ well-bred
persons simply say, the ‘nurse,’ the ‘cook,’ the
‘chamber-maid,’ &c. and what is still better, they
designate their domestics by their christian names.</p>
<p>If you have ever met with those merciless housekeepers
who give you a whole tariff of the commodities
which they have been to market to purchase,
attended by their maid; who entertain you constantly
with the insults and unfaithfulness of their
domestics; who fly into a passion before you on
account of a glass broken, of which they require the
value, and make you witness and judge of pert
discussions occasioned by servants’ mistakes; if
you have had the misfortune to dine with such
<SPAN name="p18" id="p18"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>18<span class="ns">]
</span></span>persons, and have seen them hand reluctantly to their
sullen maid-servants one key after another, to
arrange the dessert brought by them with a good
supply of ill-humor; if you have seen them go to
the cellar themselves, and when they have just left
the table, to arrange in a surly manner the wine,
sugar, and delicacies, tell me, poor guest, if, turning
your head away with confusion and disgust, you
have not an hundred times said to yourself, ‘Oh!
what living and disgusting models of upstarts or
provincials.’</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of propriety as regards one’s self"><SPAN name="p19" id="p19"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>19<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of propriety as regards one’s self.</i></h3>
<p>Attention to one’s person and reputation is also
a duty. If vanity, pride, or prudery, have frequently
given to these attentions the names of coquetry,
ambition, or folly, this is a still stronger reason,
why we should endeavor to clear up these points.</p>
<h4 title="Of the toilet"><SPAN name="p19i" id="p19i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of the toilet.</i></h4>
<p>Propriety requires that we should always be
clothed in a cleanly and becoming manner, even in
private, in leaving our bed, or in the presence of no
one. It requires that our clothing be in keeping
with our sex, fortune, profession, age, and form, as
well as with the season, the different hours of the
day and our different occupations.</p>
<p>Let us now descend to the particulars of these
general rules.</p>
<p>The dress for a man on his first rising, is a cap of
cotton, or silk and cotton, a morning gown, or a
vest with sleeves; for a lady, a small muslin cap,
<SPAN name="p20" id="p20"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>20<span class="ns">]
</span></span>(bonnet de percale,) a camisole or common robe. It
is well that a half corset should precede the full
corset, which last is used only when one is dressed;
for it is bad taste for a lady not to be laced at all.
The hair papers, which cannot be removed on rising
(because the hair would not keep in curl till evening,)
should be concealed under a bandeau of lace
or of the hair. They should be removed as soon
as may be. In this dress, we can receive only intimate
friends or persons, who call upon urgent or
indispensable business; even then we ought to offer
some apology for it. To neglect to take off this
morning dress as soon as possible, is to expose one’s
self to embarrassments often very painful, and to
the appearance of a want of education. Moreover,
it is well to impose upon yourself a rule to be
dressed at some particular hour (the earliest possible,)
since occupations will present themselves to
hinder your being ready for the day; and you will
easily acquire the habit of this. Such disorder of
the toilet can be excused when it occurs rarely, or for
a short time, as in such cases it seems evidently
owing to a temporary embarrassment; but if it occur
daily, or constantly; if it seems the result of
negligence and slovenliness, it is unpardonable,
particularly in ladies, whose dress seems less designed
for clothing than ornament.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p21" id="p21"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>21<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>To suppose that great heat of weather will authorise
this disorder of the toilet, and will permit us to
go in slippers, or with our legs and arms bare, or to
take nonchalant or improper attitudes, is an error of
persons of a low class, or destitute of education.
Even the weather of dog-days would not excuse
this; and if we would remain thus dressed, we must
give directions that we are not at home. On the
other hand, to think that cold and rainy weather
excuses like liberties, is equally an error. You ought
not to be in the habit of wearing large socks (this is
addressed particularly to ladies,) as socks of list and
similar materials; much less noisy shoes, such as
wooden ones, galoches lined with fur, shoes with
wooden soles, socks, &c.<!-- TN: period omitted inoriginal -->; this custom is in the worst
taste. When you go to see any one, you cannot
dispense with taking off your socks or clogs before
you are introduced into the room. For to make a
noise in walking is entirely at variance with good
manners.</p>
<p>However pressed one may be, a lady of good
breeding should not go out in a morning dress,
neither with an apron nor cap, even if it is made of
fine cloth and trimmed with ribbands; nor should
a well-bred man show himself in the street in a
waistcoat only, a jacket without sleeves, &c. We
said before that the dress should be adapted to the
<SPAN name="p22" id="p22"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>22<span class="ns">]
</span></span>different hours of the day. Ladies should make
morning calls in an elegant and simple négligé, all
the details of which we cannot give, on account of
their multiplicity and the numerous modification
of fashion. We shall only say that ladies generally
should make these calls in the dress which they
wear at home. Gentlemen may call in an outside
coat, in boots and pantaloons, as when they are on
their ordinary business. In short, this dress is proper
for gentlemen’s visits in the middle of the day.
With regard to ladies, it is necessary for them when
visiting at this time, to arrange their toilet with more
care. Ceremonious visits, evening visits, and especially
balls, require more attention to the dress of
gentlemen, and a more brilliant costume for ladies.
There are for the latter, head-dresses particularly
designed for such occasions, and for no other, such
as rich blond caps, ornamented with flowers, brilliant
<i lang="fr">berrets</i> and <i lang="fr">toques</i>, appropriate to the
drawing-room.</p>
<p>The nicest cloth, new and very fine linen, an elegant
but plain waistcoat; a beautiful watch, to which
is attached a single costly key, thin and well polished
shoes, an entirely new hat, of a superior quality—this
is a dress at once recherché and rigorously
exact, for gentlemen of good taste and <i lang="fr">ton</i>. One’s
profession requires very little modification of this
<SPAN name="p23" id="p23"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>23<span class="ns">]
</span></span>costume; we should observe, however, that men of
science (savans) and literary men and those in the
profession of the law, should avoid having a fashionable
or military costume, which is generally adopted
by students, commercial men, and <em>exquisites</em>, for the
sake of <i lang="fr">ton</i> or for want of something to do.</p>
<p>Situation in the world determines among ladies,
those differences, which though otherwise well marked,
are becoming less so every day. Every one knows
that whatever be the fortune of a young lady, her
dress ought always, in form as well as ornaments,
to exhibit less of a recherché appearance and
should be less showy than that of married ladies.
Costly cashmeres, very rich furs, and diamonds, as
well as many other brilliant ornaments, are to be
forbidden a young lady; and those who act in defiance
of these rational marks of propriety make us
believe that they are possessed of an unrestrained
love of luxury, and deprive themselves of the pleasure
of receiving these ornaments from the hand of
the man of their choice.</p>
<p>All ladies cannot use indiscriminately the privilege
which marriage confers upon them in this respect,
and the toilet of those whose fortune is moderate
should not pass the bounds of an elegant simplicity.
Considerations of a more elevated nature, as of good
domestic order, the dignity of a wife, and the duties
<SPAN name="p24" id="p24"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>24<span class="ns">]
</span></span>of a mother, come in support of this law of propriety,
for it concerns morality in all its branches.</p>
<p>We must beware of a shoal in this case; frequently
a young lady of small fortune, desiring to appear
decently in any splendid assembly, makes sacrifices
in order to embellish her modest attire. But these
sacrifices are necessarily inadequate; a new and
brilliant article of dress is placed by the side of a
mean or old one. The toilet then wants harmony,
which is the soul of elegance as well as of beauty.
Moreover, whatever be the opulence which you enjoy,
luxury encroaches so much upon it, that no
riches are able to satisfy its demands; but fortunately
propriety, always in accordance with reason,
encourages by this maxim social and sensible
women. Neither too high, nor too low; it is equally
ridiculous either to pretend to be the most showy, or
to display the meanest attire in an assembly.</p>
<p>The rules suitable to age resemble those which
mediocrity of fortune imposes; for instance, old
ladies ought to abstain from gaudy colors, recherché
designs, too late fashions, and graceful ornaments,
as feathers, flowers, and jewels. A lady in her decline
dressed in her hair, and wearing a dress with
short sleeves, adorned with collars, bracelets, &c.
offends against propriety as much as against her interest
and dignity.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p25" id="p25"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>25<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>The rigorous simplicity of the dress of men establishes
but very little difference between that of
young and old. The latter, however, ought to choose
grave colors, not to follow the fashions too closely;
to avoid garments too tight or too short, and not to
have in view in their toilet any other object but
ease and neatness. Unless the care of their health,
or complete baldness, requires them to wear a wig,<sup><SPAN name="fna8" id="fna8" href="#fn8">8</SPAN></sup>
it is more proper that old persons should show their
white and noble heads. Old ladies, whom custom
requires to conceal this respectable sign of a long
life, should at least avoid hair too thick or too full of
curls.</p>
<p>If they would not appear ridiculous and clothed in
a manner disagreeable or offensive, ladies ought to
adopt in summer light garments, and delicate colors,
and in winter, furs, thick and warm fabrics, and deep
colors. Men till lately were almost free from this
obligation; they used to be constantly clothed in
broadcloth in all seasons: but now, although this may
form the basis of their toilet, they must select
stuffs for winter or summer, as may be suitable. It
is in good ton<!-- TN: original not italicised --> for gentlemen to wear a rich cloak;
<SPAN name="p26" id="p26"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>26<span class="ns">]
</span></span>an outer garment over the coat (especially one of
silk,) is left for men of a certain age. It only belongs
to septuagenarians and ecclesiastics to wear doublets
or wadded outer coats.</p>
<p>To finish our instructions relative to the toilet, it
only remains for us to make a few observations.</p>
<p>It is superlatively ridiculous for a lady to go on
foot, when dressed in her hair, or attired for the drawing-room
or a ball. If one dwells in a provincial town
where it is not customary to use carriages, they
should go in a chair. Who does not perceive how
laughable it is to see a lady who is clothed in satin
lace, or velvet, laboriously travelling in the dust or
mud.</p>
<p>Vary your toilet as much as possible, for fear that
idlers and malignant wits, who are always a majority
in the world, should amuse themselves by making
your dress the description of your person.</p>
<p>Certain fashionables seek to gain a kind of reputation
by the odd choice of their attire, and by their
eagerness to seize upon the first caprices of the fashions.
Propriety with difficulty tolerates these fancies
of a spoiled child: but it applauds a woman of sense
and taste, who is not in a hurry to follow the fashions
and asks how long they will probably last before
adopting them; finally, who selects and modifies
them with success according to her size and figure.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p27" id="p27"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>27<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>It would be extremely clownish to carry dirt into
a decent house, especially if one makes a ceremonious
visit; and, when there is much mud, or when
we cannot walk with skill, it is proper to go in a carriage,
or at least to put in requisition the services of
a shoe-black at a short distance from the house.</p>
<h4 title="Of Reputation">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Reputation.</i></h4>
<p>Among the cares which propriety obliges us to
take of our person, to please is but an accessary<!-- TN: spelling OK - OED --> circumstance;
the principal end is to indicate by cleanliness,
and the suitableness of apparel, that good
order, a sense of what is right, and politeness in all
things, direct our thoughts and actions. In this point
of view, we see that a regard to reputation is the
necessary consequence of the duties of propriety toward
one’s self.</p>
<p>To inspire esteem and consideration, is then the
grand object of propriety of conduct; for without
this treasure, the relations of society would be a
humiliation and punishment. They are obtained by
the accomplishment of our obligations of family and
of our profession; by our probity and good manners;
by our fortune and situation in society.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p28" id="p28"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>28<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Consideration is not acquired by words; an article
so precious demands a real value; it demands also
the assistance of discretion. So that we must begin
by fulfilling exactly our duties towards relations;
but we must beware of making public those petty
quarrels, and little differences of interest, of ill
humor or opinion, which sometimes trouble families
most closely united. These momentary clouds, soon
dissipated by affection and confidence, would be engraven
on the memory of others as a proof of your
domestic discords, and in the end, of your faults.<sup><SPAN name="fna9" id="fna9" href="#fn9">9</SPAN></sup></p>
<p>Probity, that powerful means of obtaining consideration,
by its elevated and religious nature, is not
within our investigation of the principles of politeness.</p>
<p>This is not the case with that consideration
which is attached to purity of morals. The proof of
probity is in probity itself; but, thanks to the delicate
shades of reputation, in regard to chastity, there
exists, independently of good conduct, a multitude
of cares, and precautions, which, however minute
and embarrassing at times, ought never to be neglected.
Ladies, to whom the advice contained in
<SPAN name="p29" id="p29"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>29<span class="ns">]
</span></span>this paragraph is particularly addressed, know how
the shadow of suspicion withers and torments them.
This shadow, it is necessary to avoid at all hazards,
and on that account to submit to all the requirements
of propriety.</p>
<p>Young married ladies are at liberty to visit by
themselves their acquaintances, but they cannot
present themselves in public without their husband,
or an aged lady. They are at liberty however to
walk with young married ladies or unmarried ones,
while the latter should never walk alone with their
companions. Neither should they show themselves
except with a gentleman of their family, and then
he should be a near relation or of respectable age.</p>
<p>Except in certain provincial towns, where there
is a great strictness in behavior, young married ladies
receive the visits of gentlemen; they permit their
company in promenades, without suffering the least
injury to their reputation, provided it is always
with men of good morals, and that they take care
to avoid every appearance of coquetry. Young
widows have equal liberty with married ladies.</p>
<p>A lady ought not to present herself alone in a
library, or a museum, unless she goes there to study
or work as an artist.</p>
<p>A lady ought to have a modest and measured gait;
too great hurry injures the grace which ought to
<SPAN name="p30" id="p30"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>30<span class="ns">]
</span></span>characterize her. She should not turn her head on
one side and the other, especially in large towns,
where this bad habit seems to be an invitation to the
impertinent. If such persons address her in any
flattering or insignificant terms, she should take
good care not to answer them a word. If they persist,
she should tell them in a brief and firm, though
polite tone, that she desires to be left to herself. If
a man follow her in silence, she should pretend not
to perceive him, and at the same time hasten a little
her step.</p>
<p>Towards the close of the day, a young lady would
conduct herself in an unbecoming manner, if she
should go alone; and if she passes the evening with
any one, she ought to see that a domestic comes to<!-- TN: original reads "to to" -->
accompany her, if not, to request the person whom
she is visiting, to allow some one to do so. But
however much this may be considered proper, and
consequently an obligation, a married lady well educated
will disregard it if circumstances prevent her
being able, without trouble, to find a conductor.</p>
<p>If the master of the house wishes to accompany
you himself, you must excuse yourself politely from
giving him so much trouble, but finish however by
accepting. On arriving at your house, you should
offer him your thanks. In order to avoid these two
inconveniences, it will be well to request your
<SPAN name="p31" id="p31"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>31<span class="ns">]
</span></span>husband, or some one of your relations to come and wait
upon you; you will in this way avoid still another
inconvenience; in small towns, where malice is excited
by ignorance and want of something to do, they
frequently censure the most innocent acts; it is not
uncommon to hear slanderous and silly gossips observe,
that madame such-a-one goes to madame such-a-one’s
for the sake of returning with her husband.
The seeds of such an imputation, once sown, quickly
come to maturity.</p>
<p>The care of the reputation of ladies further demands
that they should have a modest deportment;
should abstain from forward manners, and free
speeches.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of propriety, in regard to one’s business or profession"><SPAN name="p32" id="p32"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>32<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER V.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of propriety, in regard to one’s business or profession.</i></h3>
<p>Besides general politeness, that ready money which
is current with all, there is a polite deportment suited
to every profession. Interest, custom, and the
desire of particular esteem, the necessity of moderating
the enthusiasm which almost constantly animates
us,—are the motives which determine the different
kinds of politeness that we are going to consider
as regards shopkeepers, people in office, lawyers,
physicians, artists, military men, and ecclesiastics.
As all this politeness is mutual, we shall necessarily
speak of the obligations imposed upon people who
have intercourse with these different persons.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Shopkeepers and Customers"><SPAN name="p32i" id="p32i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Shopkeepers and Customers.</i></h4>
<p>Politeness in shopkeepers is a road to fortune,
which the greater part of them are careful not to
neglect, especially at Paris, where we find particularly
the model of a well-bred shopkeeper. It is
<SPAN name="p33" id="p33"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>33<span class="ns">]
</span></span>this model that we wish to hold up even to some
Parisians, and to the retail dealers of the provincial
towns, as well as to those who are unacquainted
with trade, but are destined to that profession.</p>
<p>When a customer calls, the shopkeeper should
salute him politely, without inquiring after his health,
unless he be intimately acquainted with him. He
then waits until the customer has made known his
wishes, advances toward him, or brings forward a
seat, then shows him, with great civility, the articles
for which he has inquired. If the purchaser be difficult
to suit, capricious, ridiculous, or even disdainful,
the shopkeeper ought not to appear to perceive it;
he may however in such cases, show a little coldness
of manner.</p>
<p>The part which shopkeepers have to act is frequently
painful, we must allow; there are some people
who treat them like servants; there are some
<em>capricious fashionables</em>, who go into a shop only to
pass the time, to see the new fashions, and who,
with this object make the shopkeeper open a hundred
bundles, show heaps of goods, and finish by
going out, saying in a disdainful tone that nothing
suits them. There are some merciless purchasers
who contend for a few cents with all the tenacity of
avarice, obstinacy and pride; however, under all
these vexations, the shopkeeper must show constant
<SPAN name="p34" id="p34"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>34<span class="ns">]
</span></span>urbanity. He waits upon such imperious purchasers
with readiness, but nevertheless in silence, for he
must be convinced that the more complying we are
to people of this sort, the more haughty and difficult
they show themselves.</p>
<p>With <em>capricious fashionables</em>, his patience should
never forsake him; and although he well knows what
will be the result of their fatiguing call, he nevertheless
should show them his goods, as if he thought
they really intended to buy; for sometimes this
tempts them to purchase. Even though his politeness
should be all lost, he should still express his
regret at not having been able to suit the lady, and
hope to be more fortunate another time; he should
then conduct her politely to the door, which he
should hold open until her carriage leaves it.</p>
<p>A shopkeeper who wishes to save time, words and
vexation, who even feels the dignity of his profession,
ought to sell at a fixed price, or if he does not
announce that he sells in that mode, he ought at least
to adopt it, and not to have what is called an <em>asking</em>
price. If however he has to do with those gossips
who think themselves cheated unless something is
abated, or who design to impose sacrifices on the
shopkeepers, it is necessary to carry on this ridiculous
skirmishing politely, and to yield by degrees,
without exhibiting any marks of displeasure at these
<SPAN name="p35" id="p35"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>35<span class="ns">]
</span></span>endless debates. But the dealer of <i lang="fr">bon ton</i> abstains
from those lofty assurances, those laughable adjurations,
declarations of loss, and of preference, as, <em>I lose
all profit, it is because it is you</em>, and other foolish
things, which make a lackey’s office of a truly respectable
profession.</p>
<p>The clerks should carry the articles purchased to
the desk, whither they should politely conduct the
purchaser; they then should make up the bundle
which they should not deliver until the bill is settled,
and the purchaser is ready to depart. If the
latter is not on foot, the bundle should not be delivered
until he is seated in the carriage, and the door
is ready to be shut. If, on the contrary, the purchaser
is not in a carriage, he must be asked whether
he wishes to have the bundle carried home. This
politeness is indispensable if the bundle is large,
and especially if the purchaser is a lady.</p>
<p>It is further necessary that the person at the desk
should offer small change for the balance of the
purchase, and should apologise if he is obliged to
give copper or heavy money; he ought to present a
bill of the articles, and not show any ill-humor if
the purchaser thinks proper to look over it.</p>
<p>There is one circumstance which tries the politeness
of the most civil shopkeepers; it is when an
assortment is wanted. It is indeed irksome enough
<SPAN name="p36" id="p36"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>36<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to show a great quantity of goods, and give patterns
of them, with the certainty almost that all you do
will avail nothing. But it ought not to be forgotten,
that like all other qualities, politeness has its trials,
and that perhaps the person who has thus chanced
to call at their shop, will be induced by this amenity
of behavior, to continue always a customer.</p>
<p>We trust that the shopkeepers’ clerks, in the recommendations
which we are now about to give them,
will not see any silly attempt to address them with
smart sayings.</p>
<p>By enjoining upon them to avoid volubility—a
disrespectful familiarity toward ladies—extravagant
praises of their goods—an affected zeal in serving
rich persons—an impolite tardiness, and disdainful
inattention to people of a diffident manner—the
ridiculous habit of wishing to make conversation—to
urge people to buy whether they wish to or not—to
stun them with the names of all the goods in the
shop—by enjoining upon them to avoid these things,
we intend less to join in than to preserve them from
the reproaches of fault finders.</p>
<p>Every civility ought to be reciprocal, or nearly so.
If the officious politeness of the shopkeeper does
not require an equal return, he has at least a claim
to civil treatment; and, finally, if this politeness
proceed from interest, is this a reason why purchasers
<SPAN name="p37" id="p37"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>37<span class="ns">]
</span></span>should add to the unpleasantness of his profession,
and trouble themselves little at violating the
laws of politeness? Many very respectable people
allow themselves so many infractions on this point,
that I think it my duty to dwell upon it.</p>
<p>You should never say, <em>I want such a thing</em>, but, <em>have
the goodness to show me</em>, or <em>show me, if you please,
that article</em>, or use some other polite form of address.
If they do not show you at first the articles you desire,
and you are obliged to examine a great number,
apologize to the shopkeeper for the trouble you give
him. If, after all you cannot suit yourself, renew
your apologies, when you go away.</p>
<p>If you make small purchases, say, <em>I ask your pardon</em>,
or <em>I am sorry for having troubled you for so trifling
a thing</em>. If you spend a considerable time in
the selection of articles, apologize to the shopkeeper
who waits for you to decide.</p>
<p>If the price seems to you too high, and that the
shop has not fixed prices, ask an abatement in brief
and civil terms, and without ever appearing to suspect
the good faith of the shopkeeper. If he does
not yield, do not enter into a contest with him, but
go away, after telling him politely that you think
you can obtain the article cheaper elsewhere, but if
not, that you will give him the preference. If the
clerk ends by asking whether you wish for any other
<SPAN name="p38" id="p38"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>38<span class="ns">]
</span></span>article, answer always in a manner to encourage
him that you will call again. We should never neglect
to be agreeable. Thank him always when you
go out.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness between Persons in Office and the Public">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness between Persons in Office and the Public.</i></h4>
<p>This is not very conspicuous; nor can it be,
since in this case, the desire of pleasing and the
expectation of gain, have no influence. Besides, as
we remain but a moment with these gentlemen, and
as they have business with a great many people, the
observances and forms of politeness would be misplaced.
The following are points to be observed by
them, and are by no means rigid; the greater therefore
the reason for conforming to them.</p>
<p>A man in office is not obliged to rise and salute
people, nor to offer them a seat; it is enough for
him to receive them by an inclination of the head,
and make a sign with the hand, to intimate to them
to be seated. The business being finished, he salutes
them on leaving, as before, and never conducts them
back to the door. It would be ridiculous to be offended
with these <em>bureaucratic</em> forms, and still more
so, to wish to enter into conversation, to make
<SPAN name="p39" id="p39"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>39<span class="ns">]
</span></span>inquiries concerning the health, &c. In proportion to
their official habits, those in office ought to watch
themselves with care in society.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Lawyers and their Clients">SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Lawyers and their Clients.</i></h4>
<p>Politeness is a very difficult thing for this respectable
class, who see constantly before their eyes people
always animated with a feeling which renders
them little amiable, namely, interest. Besides, being
in the habit of refuting their adversaries, and being
obliged to do it promptly, they acquire, in general, a
kind of bluntness, a decisive tone, a spirit of contradiction,
of which they ought to be distrustful in society,
and also in their places of business. The familiar
usage of common inquiries after the health is
not customary between attorneys or advocates and
their clients, unless they have before been acquainted
with them. They are however bound to observe
attentions which are not practised by persons in
office. They rise to salute their clients, offer them
a seat, and conduct them to the door when they
take leave; they observe what is due to sex, rank,
and age.</p>
<p>As to clients, they ought to conform to the
<SPAN name="p40" id="p40"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>40<span class="ns">]
</span></span>ordinary rules of civility; they ought, moreover, not to
exhibit any signs of impatience while they are waiting
until they can be received. They should take
care to be clear and precise in the narration of their
business, and not to importune by vain repetitions
or passionate declamations, the counsellor who is
listening to them. They should also consider that
his moments are precious, and should retire so soon
as they shall have sufficiently instructed him in
their business.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Physicians and their Patients">SECTION IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Physicians and their Patients.</i></h4>
<p>The observances adopted in the offices of lawyers,
are likewise practised with consulting physicians;
but sympathy should give to the tone or manner of
the latter a more affectionate character. Patients
well educated will beware of abusing it, and will
keep to themselves all complaints which are useless
towards a knowledge of their malady. They will
answer the questions of the doctor in a clear, brief,
and polite manner; and when these questions do not
embrace the observations which they may have made
on their own disorder, they will say so, at the same
time observing some excuse like the following; <em>I
<SPAN name="p41" id="p41"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>41<span class="ns">]
</span></span>ask your pardon; this observation is perhaps idle, but
being myself ignorant, and wishing to omit nothing, I
submit it to your good judgment</em>.</p>
<p>You ought to give frequent and heartfelt thanks
to the physician who affords you his advice or attentions.
The circumstance of his being unsuccessful
does not exonerate you from these testimonies of
gratitude; it renders them perhaps more obligatory,
for delicacy requires that you should not appear tacitly
to reproach him on account of his having been
unfortunate in his efforts.</p>
<p>Being obliged to speak of different wants, and of
different parts of the body, for which politeness has
no appropriate language, the physician ought to
avoid being obscure or gross, particularly when addressing
ladies. A forgetfulness of these forms often
renders insupportable even a meritorious and learned
man.</p>
<p>Every one knows, with what delicate precautions
a physician ought to speak before the patient and
his family, of the nature of the illness and of the
probable consequences when there exists any danger;
in what guarded terms he should at last disclose to
them a fatal termination, if unfortunately it has become
inevitable. Every body knows, also, that however
poignant may be the grief of parents, they
ought never to let it appear in their conversations
<SPAN name="p42" id="p42"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>42<span class="ns">]
</span></span>with the physician, that they regard him as the
cause of their affliction.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Artists and Authors, and the Deference due to them">SECTION V.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Artists and Authors, and the Deference
due to them.</i></h4>
<p>Do artists come under the common rule, it will
perhaps be said? and I shall ask, in my turn: Do
they live like others,—these men, always absorbed
in one strong and single conception, with which
they, like the Creator, wish to animate matter?—who
seek everywhere the secret of the beautiful
which goads, infatuates, and evades them?—passionate,
absorbed in thought, ingenuous, almost always
strangers to calculation, to pleasure, and to
the occupations of the world? No, they have a separate
existence, one which the world does not comprehend,
and which they ought to conceal from the
world.</p>
<p>If, as we shall see hereafter, one should avoid
speaking of his profession, and of his personal affairs,
for a still stronger reason, an artist ought to be silent
about his own labors, his success, and his hopes.
People will accuse him of arrogance, of vanity, and
perhaps even of madness; for enthusiasm is not
<SPAN name="p43" id="p43"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>43<span class="ns">]
</span></span>included in, nor admitted into society, because there
the ridiculous is feared above everything, <em>and from
the sublime to the ridiculous there is but one step</em>. Let
him, then, reserve only for his friends, for true friends
of the arts, his noble and striking bursts of inspiration.</p>
<p>People are also generally prone to suspect artists
of jealousy. In order to escape this accusation, and
at the same time preserve the right of telling their
thoughts, they ought to commend warmly what appears
to them good, and criticise with much moderation
and without any raillery what is defective.</p>
<p>These observations are addressed equally to authors,
with this important addition. Besides the
charge of arrogance, people are much disposed to accuse
them of pedantry. Let them therefore be careful,
and check constantly the desire of entering into
conversation upon the interesting subjects with
which they are continually occupied. Let them always
be in fear of obtaining the name of a <i lang="fr">bel esprit</i>,
a name which calls up so many recollections of pedantry
and affectation.</p>
<p>A graceful simplicity, a happy mixture of elevation
and naïveté<!-- TN: original reads "naïvetè" -->, should characterise authors and
artists, but particularly female authors and artists.
Ladies who handle the pen, the lyre, or the pencil,
ought to be well persuaded that any vestige
<SPAN name="p44" id="p44"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>44<span class="ns">]
</span></span>of prejudice raises against them, especially in provincial
places, a multitude of unfavorable observations.
And besides, so many half-instructed women
have had so much the air and manners of upstarts,
that this opinion is almost excusable. Now this
prejudice lays it down as a rule, that every female
author or artist may be known at first sight, by her
oddities, her want of modesty, or her pedantic folly.
Do away this unjust prejudice, my female friends:
it will be both easy and pleasant; you will have only
to follow the influence of an elevated soul, a pure
taste; you will have but to remind yourselves that
simplicity is the coquetry of genius.</p>
<p>But if people who cultivate literature and the arts
ought to apply themselves without reluctance or ill-humor
to all the requirements of society; if they
ought to strip themselves of all pretension, and forget
themselves, others should not forget them. Politeness
requires that we converse with an author
concerning his works; that we congratulate him on
his success; that we bestow upon him suitable and
delicate praises. If any of his works are unknown to
us, we should ask of him the loan of it with earnestness;
we should read it with promptitude, and prove
to him by our citations that we have a thorough acquaintance
with it. If he makes us a present of any
of his productions, we shall owe him a call, or at
<SPAN name="p45" id="p45"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>45<span class="ns">]
</span></span>least a billet of thanks. Handsome compliments,
and lively testimonials of acknowledgment, ought to
fill up this visit or billet. Remember, also, that to
please an artist, it is necessary to flatter at once his
taste, his self-esteem, and his cultivation of the fine
arts. Speak to him therefore like a connoisseur, or
at least an admirer of music, or of painting. Ask the
favor of seeing his pictures, or of hearing his symphonies.
Contemplate the former a long time; listen
to the latter with great attention; address to him
lively congratulations mingled with thanks; then,
by an adroit transition, put to him questions which
prove your desire to be initiated into a knowledge of
the arts.</p>
<p>When an artist or a writer obtains any honorable
distinction, as a prize, a medal, dramatic success, or
an academical title, his friends and acquaintances
should lose no time in offering him their compliments.
Those at a distance, may perform <em>this duty</em>
of politeness by writing.</p>
<p>Not only authors by profession, but literary persons
who publish a discourse, a little work, or a
pamphlet, should send, in an envelope, a copy to
their family, friends, professional brethren, authors
who have addressed to them similar presents, to their
intimate acquaintances, their superiors, and to those
persons to whom they owe respect—according to the
<SPAN name="p46" id="p46"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>46<span class="ns">]
</span></span>nature of the work, and to the people with whom
they have relations of pleasure, or of business. It is
an affectionate and very polite custom for the author
to write with his own hand at the top of the first leaf
or of the cover, some kind or respectful words, according
to the person to whom it is addressed. These
words, which are designed to make of the gift a remembrance
or homage, are always written under the
name of the person, and signed by the author. We
will here speak of a dedication only to observe,
that we cannot dedicate a work to any one, without
having previously obtained his consent, either verbally
or by writing. When it is to the king, queen,
or princes, it is necessary to write to their secretary,
to know their wish in this respect. As to any other
person of dignity, we may write to him without
any intermediate agency. If the members of the
royal family have accepted the dedication, the author
is generally allowed the honor of presenting his work
to them.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Military Men">SECTION VI.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Military Men.</i></h4>
<p>Military politeness has, as we know, some particular
characteristics. Officers and soldiers do not
uncover themselves on entering a church, if they are
<SPAN name="p47" id="p47"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>47<span class="ns">]
</span></span>under arms; only, during the elevation of the host,<sup><SPAN name="fna10" id="fna10" href="#fn10">10</SPAN></sup>
they raise the right hand to the front part of their
helmet, cap, or shako.<sup><SPAN name="fna11" id="fna11" href="#fn11">11</SPAN></sup> When soldiers converse
with their superiors, they constantly hold the edge
of the hand to their forehead. On entering a drawing
room, an officer lays down his sabre or his sword.
It is not in good <i lang="fr">ton</i> for a man to present himself
before ladies, in the uniform of the national guard,
unless some circumstance excuses or authorises this
liberty.</p>
<p>In a citizen’s dress, officers may wear a black
cravat.</p>
<p>If we are acquainted with military men, in addressing
them, we call them only <em>general</em>, or <em>captain</em>;
but it would be uncivil to give them the title of an
inferior grade thus we should not say <em>lieutenant</em>.</p>
<h4 title="Politeness of Ecclesiastics and Females of Religious
Orders; and the Deference due to them"><SPAN name="p48" id="p48"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>48<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION VII.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Politeness of Ecclesiastics and Females of Religious
Orders; and the Deference due to them.</i><sup><SPAN name="fna12" id="fna12" href="#fn12">12</SPAN></sup></h4>
<p>A priest should be considered in two points of
view; when he is exercising his holy office, and
when he is taking part in the relations of society.
In the first case, he is an object of special respect;
and even the title to be given him, the words to be
addressed to him, the attitude to be taken in speaking
to him, are regulated by the liturgy. But, although
the ecclesiastic be not now in society an object
of religious veneration, he has, as the representative
of God, or as a minister of the altar, a right to much
respect and deference. Too light conversation, dancing
and love songs, would be out of place in his
presence.</p>
<p>Ecclesiastics have two shoals to avoid. Their custom
of preaching a severe and sacred morality, and
of catechising or censuring with authority the
<SPAN name="p49" id="p49"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>49<span class="ns">]
</span></span>penitent, gives them sometime a dogmatical and rigid
tone, a pedantry of morality altogether contrary to
social affability. Sometimes, also, to guard against
this result, which they feel to be almost inevitable,
ecclesiastics, especially the more aged, indulge
themselves in unsuitable pleasantries, which they
would not dare to allow in men of the world. A mild
gravity, a moderate gaiety, a noble and affectionate
urbanity—these are the characteristics which ought
to distinguish the ecclesiastic, in society.</p>
</div>
<div class="chunk">
<h2 title="PART II: OF PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT IN REGARD TO OUR SOCIAL RELATIONS"><SPAN name="p50" id="p50"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>50<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>PART II.<br/><br/><span class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT IN REGARD TO OUR SOCIAL RELATIONS.</span></h2>
<h3 title="Of Deportment in the Street">CHAPTER I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Deportment in the Street.</i></h3>
<p>Some readers will perhaps be surprised to see
me commence a chapter with the duty we owe to
persons passing the street; but if they reflect upon
it, they will see that there are, even on this subject,
a sufficient number of things proper to be mentioned.</p>
<p>When you are passing in the street, and see coming
towards you a person of your acquaintance,
whether a lady, a man raised to dignity, or an elderly
person, you should offer them the <em>wall</em>, that is to say,
the side next the houses.</p>
<p>If a carriage happen to stop in such a manner as
to leave only a narrow passage between it and the
houses, beware of elbowing and rudely crowding the
passengers, with a view to getting by more expeditiously:
wait your turn, and if any one of the persons
before mentioned comes up, you should edge up
<SPAN name="p51" id="p51"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>51<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to the wall, in order to give them the place. They
also, as they pass, ought to bow politely to you.</p>
<p>If stormy weather has made it necessary to lay a
plank across the gutters, which have become suddenly
full of water, it is not proper to crowd before
another, in order to pass over the frail bridge.</p>
<p>Further,—a young man of good breeding should
promptly offer his hand to ladies, even if they are
not acquaintances, when they pass such a place.</p>
<p>You must pay attention to your manner of walking,
for fear of throwing mud around you, and spattering
yourself as well as those who accompany you,
or who walk behind you. Any person, particularly
a lady, who walks in this improper manner, whatever
her education may be in other respects, will
always appear awkward and clumsy.</p>
<p>Every one knows that the Parisian ladies are celebrated
for their skill in walking: we see them in
white stockings and thin shoes, passing through
long, dirty, and blocked up streets, gliding by careless
persons, and by vehicles crossing each other in
every direction, and yet return home after a walk of
several hours, without soiling their clothes in the
least.</p>
<p>To arrive at this astonishing result, which causes
the wonder and vexation of provincial visitors on
their first coming to Paris, we must be careful to
<SPAN name="p52" id="p52"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>52<span class="ns">]
</span></span>put the foot on the middle of the paving stones, and
never on the edges, for, in that case, one inevitably
slips into the interstice between one pavement and
another: we must begin by supporting the toe, before
we do the heel; and even when the mud is
quite deep, we must put down the heel but seldom.
When the street becomes less muddy, we can compensate
ourselves for this fatigue, which, however,
in the end, leaves us hardly sensible.</p>
<p>This manner of walking is strictly necessary when
you offer your arm to any one. When tripping over
the pavement, (as the saying is) a lady should gracefully
raise her dress a little above her ancle. With
the right hand she should hold together the folds of
her gown, and draw them towards the right side.
To raise the dress on both sides, and with both hands,
is vulgar. This ungraceful practice can be tolerated
only for a moment, when the mud is very deep.</p>
<p>It is an important thing in the streets of a large
city to edge one’s-self along; that is to avoid jostling
and being jostled by those who are passing. A neglect
of this attention, will make you appear not only
awkward and ridiculous, but you will receive or give
dangerous blows. One can edge along by turning
sideways, contracting his arms, and watching with
his eye the direction which it is best to take in order
not to come in contact with the person who meets
<SPAN name="p53" id="p53"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>53<span class="ns">]
</span></span>him. A little practice and care will soon make this
duty familiar.</p>
<p>To make our way along, becomes more difficult
when we have a packet or an umbrella to carry, especially
if the latter is open. It is then necessary to
lower or raise it, or to turn it on one side. If you
neglect these precautions, you run the risk of striking
it against those who are coming and going, or of
seeing it twirled round, and of being thrown against
a carriage, or against some one who will complain
bitterly of your incivility and awkwardness.</p>
<p>If you have no umbrella, and find yourself overtaken
by a sudden shower, and any person provided
with one is going in the same direction, you may request
them to shelter you; they should receive your
request with much politeness, inform themselves of
the place where you wish to stop, and offer to conduct
you there, unless it is too much out of the way,
or they be pressed for business; in this case, they
should express their regret at not being able to accompany
you so far as you wish.</p>
<p>What we are now about to say, proves that a person
truly polite, will not wait for you to make this
request, but will use every exertion to anticipate it:
we must observe however, whether age, sex, or dress
present no objection; for sometimes one would be
treated with ill-humor and contempt; and if you are
<SPAN name="p54" id="p54"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>54<span class="ns">]
</span></span>a lady, particularly arrived at a certain age, it would
be extremely unpleasant to accost a person, who, on
his part, ought never to offer this favor, nor any other
to ladies, and whose air and immodest manners
indicate at once his vulgarity. It would be equally
out of place to address such a request to those of a
very low class; but if such an one asks the favor
of you, it is proper to receive it with politeness.</p>
<p>Another not uncommon point of propriety to be
observed, consists in asking and pointing out the
different streets. If you have occasion for this service,
you speak politely, and say in a kind tone,
<em>Madam</em>, or <em>Sir, where is such a street, if you please?</em>
You should be careful to give this title to persons
whom you address, even if they should be porters or
hucksters. It is particularly to these that you should
have recourse, for in addressing persons passing by,
you are liable to meet those, who, as well as yourself,
are strangers to the neighborhood, or to hinder
those who are busy; it is moreover, impolite, to
trouble shopkeepers in their places of business. The
direction being given us, we should thank them, at
the same time bowing. Parisians are justly celebrated
for the politeness and complaisance with which
they show the way to passengers, and you ought to
imitate them, every time that occasion offers. If
you are a man, and a lady or distinguished person
<SPAN name="p55" id="p55"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>55<span class="ns">]
</span></span>asks this favor of you, you should take off your hat
while answering them.</p>
<p>There are some ill-mannered and malicious persons,
who take pleasure in misleading strangers by
wrong directions. It will be enough to mention
such impertinence in order to despise it as we ought.</p>
<p>As to those young men who entertain a false idea
that Parisian ladies are coquettes or forward in their
manners, and besides, that everything is allowable
in a large city, let them be assured that a man who
dares (as often happens) to address improper compliments
to ladies, to follow them, to listen to their conversation,
or to finish a sentence which they have
begun, is a model of rudeness, an object of aversion
to ladies, and of contempt to gentlemen. A young
man of good manners ought not to look at a lady too
narrowly, or he will pass for an impertinent fellow,
who, as the saying is, stares people full in the face,
(<i lang="fr">sous le nez</i>.)</p>
<p>It is especially when there are many persons assembled
in one place that these boors play off their
rude tricks; to which they give the name <em>hoaxes</em>
for the multitude, at first because they are unperceived,
and afterwards, because the least bad among
them think that the crowd are out of the jurisdiction
of propriety. This opinion, which obtains among
some persons, is an error. Politeness becomes still
<SPAN name="p56" id="p56"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>56<span class="ns">]
</span></span>more indispensable, in proportion to the assemblage.
Why are crowds usually so disagreeable, and even
dangerous? It is because they are composed of
people without education, who rudely push against
their neighbors, with their fist or elbow, who neglect
to follow the movement of going and coming; who,
on occasion of the slightest collision, raise loud complaints,
and, by their lamentations, their cries, and
continual trepidation, render insupportable a situation
which, without this, would be but troublesome
enough.</p>
<p>When we meet, in the street, a person of our acquaintance,
we salute them by bowing and uncovering
ourselves, if there is occasion. Sometimes it is
not enough to give a simple salutation, but we must
go to the person and inquire how they are, if we see
them frequently. While we are speaking, if there
is occasion, and it be a lady, or an aged and respectable
man, we remain uncovered: it is for the latter,
who see how troublesome this politeness is in winter,
to insist that the person addressing them should
put on his hat. It also belongs to the person who is
the more important of the two, to take leave first.
For example, in a meeting of this kind, a gentleman
never leaves a lady until she takes leave of him; nor
is a young lady allowed to leave first a married or
elderly lady. During this interview, which should
<SPAN name="p57" id="p57"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>57<span class="ns">]
</span></span>be very short, the speaker of least importance ought
to take the lower part of the side-walk, in order to
keep the person with whom he is conversing, from
the neighborhood of the carriages. It would be supremely
ridiculous to enter into a long conversation,
and thus detain, against their will, the person accosted.
If we have anything urgent to say to them, we
may ask permission to accompany them. We will
add, that at Paris, a young man ought to avoid approaching,
and even saluting a young lady of his
acquaintance, out of regard to the natural timidity of
her sex.</p>
<p>If there is a stranger with the one whom we meet,
we must be contented with saluting the latter without
stopping, otherwise we put his companion in a
disagreeable position. This civility becomes a rigorous
duty if they are accompanied by a lady. Ancient
gallantry required that in this last case, we not
only should not stop, but still more, that we should
not salute an acquaintance, or friend who may pass;
this is in order not to force her companion to salute
an unknown person (for one should bow every time
that the person bows with whom we are;) but this
custom may be modified. If it is a friend, or young
man, one may be content with making merely a motion;
but if it be an elderly man, a distinguished
character, or a lady, it is necessary to salute them,
<SPAN name="p58" id="p58"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>58<span class="ns">]
</span></span>saying to the companion: <em>I take the liberty to salute
Mr. or Madam N.</em></p>
<p>If a person of your acquaintance is at a window,
and you are thought to perceive them, you ought to
address a salutation to them. But it is necessary to
avoid speaking to them from the street, or of making
signs to them, for this is a custom of bad <i lang="fr">ton</i>.</p>
<p>To enter into a long conversation with common
and low people, who make their door-step their parlor,
is to be almost as ill bred as they themselves are.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of different Kinds of Visits"><SPAN name="p59" id="p59"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>59<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of different Kinds of Visits.</i></h3>
<p>Visits are a very important part of the social relations;
they are not merely the simple means of
communication established by necessity, since they
have at once for their object, duty and pleasure, and
they enter into almost all the acts of life.</p>
<p>There are many kinds of visits, but we shall confine
ourselves to the principal ones; as for those
which only occur under peculiar circumstances, the
reader will find them mentioned in the course of this
work. The first are the visits on new year’s day;
next, visits of friendship and of ceremony: we shall
not speak of visits of business; what we have said
in speaking of propriety in relation to different professions,
will dispense with our entering into new
details.</p>
<p>At the return of each new year, custom and duty
require us to present ourselves to our relations first;
afterwards to our patrons, our friends, and those who
have done any kindness for us.</p>
<p>These visits are divided into several classes;
those of the evening or afternoon, which are the
<SPAN name="p60" id="p60"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>60<span class="ns">]
</span></span>most polite; of the morning, which are the most
friendly and respectful; by cards, and presenting
one’s-self, and by cards without presenting one’s-self;
visits weekly, which are confined to acquaintances
with whom we have not very close relations;
monthly, which are less ceremonious, but however
partake of coldness: it is at Paris more than
any other place, that these visits are permitted;
such calls demand much attention to the toilet; they
should be as short as possible; a visit of quarter of
an hour is long enough, and we should be careful to
retire when other persons come in.</p>
<p>We should appear ridiculous to wish persons <em>a
happy new year</em>, in ceremonious visits.</p>
<p>I shall not mention friendly calls, except to remind
my readers, that almost all ceremony should
be dispensed with. They are made at all hours,
without preparation, without dressing; a too brilliant
attire would be out of place, and if the engagements
of the day carry you in such a costume at the
house of a friend, you ought obligingly to make an
explanation. Should you not find them at home, do
not leave a card; such useless ceremony would astonish
your friends. Merely remind the domestics
to mention your calling, and do not leave your card,
except the servants are absent; then the card should
be rolled up, and put in the key-hole. It will be well
to call again soon.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p61" id="p61"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>61<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>With a friend, or relation whom we treat as such,
we do not keep an account of our visits. The one
who has most leisure, calls upon him who has the
least; but this privilege ought not to be abused: it
is necessary to make our visits of friendship at suitable
times.</p>
<p>On the contrary, a visit of ceremony should never
be made without keeping an account of it, and we
should even remember the intervals at which they
are returned; for it is indispensably necessary to let
a similar interval elapse. People in this way give
you notice whether they wish to see you often or
seldom. There are some persons whom one goes to
see once in a month, others once a fortnight, &c.;
others, however, less frequently. In order not to
omit visits, which are to be made, or to avoid making
them from misinformation, when a preceding one
has not been returned, persons who have an extensive
acquaintance, will do well to keep a little memorandum
for this purpose.</p>
<p>We cannot make ceremonious visits in a becoming
manner, if we have any slight indisposition which
may for the time affect our appearance, our voice—which
may embarrass our thoughts, and render
our company fatiguing; such for instance as a
swelled face, a cold, a slight headache; in that case
it would appear impolite and familiar. On the
<SPAN name="p62" id="p62"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>62<span class="ns">]
</span></span>contrary, make visits of friendship under such circumstances,
and then you will appear more amiable
and zealous.</p>
<p>To take a suitable time, is as indispensable in visiting,
as in any thing else.</p>
<p>One can attain this, by remembering the habits of
the person he is going to see; by making your arrangements
so as not to call at the time of taking
meals, in moments of occupation, and when our
friends are walking. This time necessarily varies;
but as a general rule we must take care not to make
ceremonious visits, either before the middle of the
day, or after five o’clock. To do otherwise would,
on the one hand, look like importunity, by presenting
one’s-self too early; and on the other, might interfere
with arrangements that had been made for the evening.</p>
<p>After making one’s toilet with care, visiters should
furnish themselves with cards, that is with small
pieces of card or pasteboard, upon which their name
is printed or well written. Gentlemen ought simply
to put their cards in their pocket, but ladies may
carry them in a small elegant portfolio, called a <em>card
case</em>. This they can hold in their hand, and it will
contribute essentially (with an elegant handkerchief
of embroidered battise,) to give them an air of good
taste.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p63" id="p63"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>63<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>We shall here make a digression in relation to
cards. It was not considered impolite, formerly, to
take the cards of a cast off pack, cut them crosswise
into three parts, and write one’s name upon them;
this, however, is now a subject of ridicule, and is
only seen in provincial towns, where they sometimes
also substitute for these cards small pieces of
thick paper. Next to these cards come those made
of thin pasteboard, smooth, gilt-edged, watered, and
intended to have the name in writing. These are
suitable for young gentlemen and young ladies; and
they answer for half ceremonious visits. After these,
come lithographic cards, then printed ones, and last
those which are engraved. Some cards are figured
in a rich manner, presenting every degree of expensive
elegance. Every one will choose these according
to his taste; but it is well to observe that cards
ornamented with borders, and those of the color of
the rose, and sky blue, are not suitable for men, nor
for ladies of mature years, because they have an air
of over-nicety.</p>
<p>The title is usually placed under the name, and,
in large cities, the address, at the bottom of the card
and in smaller letters. Mourning cards are surmounted
with a black margin, half mourning ones
are of a bright gray.</p>
<p>It is bad <i lang="fr">ton</i> to keep the cards you have received
<SPAN name="p64" id="p64"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>64<span class="ns">]
</span></span>around the frame of a looking glass; such an exposure
shows that you wish to make a display of the
names of distinguished visiters. At the beginning of
a new year, or when from some cause or other which
multiplies visiters at your house, (such as a funeral
or a marriage,) you are obliged to return these
numerous calls, it is not amiss to preserve the cards
in a convenient place, and save yourself the trouble
of writing a list; but if, during the year, your glass
is always seen bristling with smoke-dried cards, it
will be attributed without doubt, to an ill-regulated
self-esteem. But let us return to our visiters.</p>
<p>If the call is made in a carriage, the servant will
ask if the lady you wish to see is at home. If persons
call in a hired carriage, or on foot, they go
themselves to ask the servants. Servants are considered
as soldiers on duty; if they reply that the
person has gone out, we should by no means urge
the point, even if we were certain it was not the
case; and if by chance we should see the person,
we should appear not to have noticed it, but leave
our card and retire. When the servant informs us
that the lady or gentleman is unwell, engaged in
business, or dining, we must act in a similar manner.</p>
<p>We should leave as many cards as there are persons
we wish to see in the house; for example, one
<SPAN name="p65" id="p65"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>65<span class="ns">]
</span></span>for the husband, another for his wife, another for
the aunt, &c. When admitted, we should lay aside
our over-shoes, umbrella, cloak, &c. in the ante-chamber,
even ladies should lay aside their cloaks in
the houses of distinguished persons. In the provincial
towns they commonly keep them on. We then
are announced by the servant, if it is the custom of
the house, or at least we wait until (without announcing
us,) he opens the door of the apartment.</p>
<p>In case of the absence of the servants, you ought
not to enter immediately, but knock gently with the
finger, and wait until some one opens the door or
bids you come in. If he does neither, you open the
door slowly and softly: should you find no one, do
not go about and open other doors, or pass into an
inner room, but retrace your steps immediately, return
to the ante-room, and remain until some one
comes to give you an introduction. If you are
obliged to stay very long, you can leave your card on
a piece of furniture or with the porter. This is a
case of rare occurrence; but it is well to provide for
it, in order not to be taken unawares. When admitted,
a gentleman presents himself with his hat in
his hand, and advancing towards the lady, salutes
her gracefully and respectfully. As soon as he observes
the lady is looking for a seat to offer him, he
must lose no time in providing one for himself
<SPAN name="p66" id="p66"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>66<span class="ns">]
</span></span>(commonly a chair) this he places towards the door by
which he entered, and at some distance from the
lady, to whom he should leave the upper part of the
room. He ought by no means to sit, except she is
seated; and holding his hat upon his knee must not
balance himself or sink down in his chair, but preserve
an easy, polite and becoming attitude. It would
be familiar and bad <i lang="fr">ton</i> to put down the hat or cane,
before the gentleman, and particularly the lady of
the house, has invited you to do it. Even then it is
proper to refuse, and not to do it until asked two or
three times. In putting down the hat, we should not
do it carelessly, nor ought we to place it on a couch,
for this is impolite. The couch, which in ancient
times was regarded as a sanctuary, ought neither to
be touched nor approached by a man. It is best to
put the hat on a bracket or chandelier stand, &c. The
lady of a house does not attempt to take the hats of
gentlemen, except she wishes to treat them with familiarity,
and this is seldom done in calls of pure
ceremony.</p>
<p>These remarks will apply also to ladies. Within
fifteen years past it has been their custom to lay aside
their hats and shawls; but that supposes an intimacy,
which would authorize their abstaining from it
at the houses of those with whom they are not much
acquainted; and, if they are invited to lay them aside,
<SPAN name="p67" id="p67"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>67<span class="ns">]
</span></span>they should refuse. The short time devoted to a
ceremonious visit, the necessity of consulting a glass
in replacing the head-dress, and of being assisted in
putting on the shawl, prevent ladies from accepting
the invitation to lay them aside. If they are slightly
familiar with the person they are visiting, and
wish to be more at ease, they should ask permission,
which we should grant them, at the same time rising
to assist them in taking off their hat and shawl. An
arm-chair, or a piece of furniture at a distant part of
the room should receive these articles; they should
not be placed upon the couch, without the mistress
of the house puts them there. At the house of a
person we visit habitually, we can lay them aside
without saying a word, and a lady can even adjust
her hair and handkerchief, (ficher) before the glass,
provided she occupies only a few moments in doing
it.</p>
<p>If the person you call upon is preparing to go out,
or to sit down at table, you ought, although he asks
you to remain, to retire as soon as possible. The
person visited so unseasonably, should, on her part,
be careful to conceal her knowledge that the other
wishes the visit ended quickly. We should always
appear delighted to receive a visiter, and should he
make a short visit, we must express to him our regret.
Ceremonious visits should be short; if the
<SPAN name="p68" id="p68"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>68<span class="ns">]
</span></span>conversation ceases without being again continued
by the person you have come to see, if she gets up
from her seat under any pretext whatever, custom
requires you to make your salutation and withdraw.</p>
<p>If, before this tacit invitation to retire, other visiters
are announced, you should adroitly leave them
without saying anything. In case the master of the
house, in waiting upon you to the door, should ask
you to remain longer, you should briefly reply to him,
that an indispensable engagement calls you, and you
must entreat him with earnestness not to detain you.
You should terminate your visit by briskly shutting
the door.</p>
<p>If, on entering the room, you find strangers engaged
in conversation, content yourself with the few
words which the master or mistress of the house
shall address to you; stop only a few moments,
make a general salutation, and conduct yourself as
in the preceding case. When you have happened
to meet the strangers elsewhere, they may unite
sometimes with the person you are visiting, to prevent
your taking leave; reply in a polite and flattering
manner, but still persist in retiring. If while
you are present, a letter is brought to the person you
are visiting, and she should lay it down without
opening it, you must entreat her to read it; she will
<SPAN name="p69" id="p69"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>69<span class="ns">]
</span></span>not do it, and this circumstance will warn you to
shorten your visit.</p>
<p>When you make a half ceremonious call, and the
person you are visiting, insists upon your stopping,
it is proper to do so, but after a few minutes you
should rise to go: if you are urged still further, and
are taken by the hands and made to sit down as it
were by force, to leave immediately would be impolite,
but nevertheless you must, after a short interval,
get up a third time, and then certainly retire. If,
during your call, a member of the family enters the
room, you need not on this account take leave, but
content yourself by rising, and saluting the person.
If a lady, you must not seat yourself until she sits
down; if a gentleman, you can yield to the invitation
made you to take your seat, while the other remains
standing. If you make a visit with others,
there are some points to be observed in relation to
your companions. In going up the staircase, it is
rigorously the custom to give precedence to those to
whom you owe respect, and to yield to such persons
the most convenient part of the stairs, which is that
next the wall.<!-- TN: period invisible in original --> Above all, do not forget this last caution
if you accompany a lady; and a well-bred gentleman,
at such a time, should offer his arm. When
there are many persons, he should bestow this mark
of respect on the oldest. If you meet any one on
<SPAN name="p70" id="p70"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>70<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the staircase, place yourself on the side opposite to
the one he occupies. It would be vexatious and out
of place to make an everlasting ceremony as to who
should be announced first; the preference must be
given to ladies; next to them, to age and rank. The
time of taking leave should be also determined by
ladies, or by aged persons, and those who are of consequence.
It would be impolite to wish to retire
before they gave the signal. We should add, that it
is unsuitable for more than three or four to visit together.
Persons of high ton<!-- TN: original not italicised --> are accompanied even
to the ante-room by one or two servants, who receive
them again when going out.</p>
<p>To carry children or dogs with one on a visit of
ceremony, is altogether vulgar and provincial. Even
in half-ceremonious visits, it is necessary to leave
one’s dog in the ante-room, as well as the nurse who
holds the infant, for this circumstance alone excuses
such a suite. As to animals, it is a thousand times
better not to have them at all.</p>
<p>We justly reproach inhabitants of the province
for lavishing salutations in meeting people, or in
taking leave of them. This custom, which may
make us contract a reservedness or too much familiarity,
is extremely ridiculous. Is it not difficult to
keep one’s countenance, when we see a visiter salute
every article of furniture, to turn and turn again
<SPAN name="p71" id="p71"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>71<span class="ns">]
</span></span>twenty times as you conduct him, and pour forth at
every pause a volley of salutations and adieus? Our
readers will beware of this over politeness; they will
salute the first time, at the moment they take leave,
and again, when the person who conducts them back
shall have stopped at the door. We have before said
that when we do not find persons at home, or when
we are afraid of disturbing them, we leave a card;
but this is not what we call particularly <em>visits by
card</em> (<i lang="fr">visites par cartes</i>). In these last visits, it is not
our object to see the persons, since we do not ask
for them, and we confine ourselves to giving our
card to the porter or domestic. This custom, which
has been introduced necessarily among persons of
very general acquaintance, and especially at times
when every one ought to be visited, as on the new-year’s
day,—this custom so far is not ridiculous, but it
becomes so by the great extent which has been given
to it for some time past. This extent consists in
making a visit without leaving our apartment; that
is to say, merely by sending our card by a domestic,
or indeed by means of an agency established
for this purpose. The practice of visits by cards,
seems to persons of good society the most impertinent
and vulgar thing which can be imagined. Do
not then permit it, except when the question is about
returning visits made in this way; and do not use
<SPAN name="p72" id="p72"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>72<span class="ns">]
</span></span>such retaliations, except to prevent these ill-advised
visiters from thinking that you put yourself out to
oblige them.</p>
<p>In works devoted to the instruction of the laws of
propriety, we think only of fortune and affluence;
we entirely forget people of a more modest condition,
and when we find ourselves in connexion with
them, we cry out against their impoliteness. It is
an injustice, and in my opinion, a false calculation.
An injustice, because true politeness pertains less to
rank, than to uprightness and goodness of heart; a
false calculation, for to refuse to initiate people into
what renders the social relations easy and agreeable,
is to prepare for ourselves collision and vexation, and
to retard as much as is in our power, the practice of
the forms of civilization.</p>
<p>Despising then this foolish disdain, we shall applaud
the great care of persons not in affluence, who,
having neither porter nor domestic, place at their
door a slate furnished with a pencil, that in their
absence visiters may write their names; for these
visiters are seldom such as carry cards. We shall
applaud the benevolent care of persons whose staircase
is not lighted, or whose apartment is in the upper
stories, and who leave with the porter a candle
which every one who arrives, takes, in order to ascend,
and returns it again on descending. If any of
<SPAN name="p73" id="p73"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>73<span class="ns">]
</span></span>our rich readers should be tempted to smile at the
announcement of these precautions of the more
humble citizens, we would remind them that they are
entirely strangers to the spirit of politeness, of which
these precautions are a striking example.</p>
<p>This digression naturally leads us to the second
part of our task relative to visits, concerning the duties
which politeness imposes as to receiving them,
for it is not less important to receive people well,
than to present ourselves well to them.</p>
<p>Before passing to this important subject, it would
seem my duty to finish what remains for me to say
concerning visits, by the mention of visits of audience,
of congratulation, of condolence, and of repast;
but except the first, to which I am going to devote a
few words, details of all the others will be found in
the chapters devoted to conversation, to formalities
of repasts, of <span class="nw">mourning, &c.</span></p>
<p>We should not merely call upon ministers, heads
of the public administration, and very distinguished
persons; we must beforehand request of them by
writing a place of meeting and must specify the
object of our visit. We must call upon them at the
appointed hour; we must abstain from inquiring
after their health, and observe strictly the obligations
of decorum. These visits, which are the acme
of ceremony, ought necessarily to be very short.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p74" id="p74"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>74<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>We shall see, in the chapter on <cite>Epistolary Propriety</cite>,
what titles are proper to be given to these important
personages. It is well to be furnished with
a letter of admission, that in case of necessity we
may show it to the servant.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of the Manner of Receiving Visitors"><SPAN name="p75" id="p75"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>75<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of the Manner of Receiving Visitors.</i></h3>
<p>To receive visitors with ease and elegance, and
in such a manner that everything in you, and about
you, shall partake of propriety and grace, to endeavor
that people may always be satisfied when they leave
you, and desirous to come again,—such are the obligations
of the master, and especially of the mistress
of a house.</p>
<p>Everything in the house, ought, as far as possible,
to offer English <em>comfort</em>, and French grace. Perfect
order, exquisite neatness and elegance which easily
dispenses with being sumptuous, ought to mark the
entrance of the house, the furniture and the dress
of the lady.</p>
<p>In a house where affluence abounds, it is indispensable
to have a drawing-room, for it is troublesome
and in bad <i lang="fr">ton</i> to receive visits in a lodging-room,
at one’s own dwelling. This may indeed do
for a mere call; but it becomes almost ridiculous
when, after dinner, it is necessary to pass into this
room to take coffee, if you are receiving a small
company, &c. This custom is not any longer
<SPAN name="p76" id="p76"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>76<span class="ns">]
</span></span>adopted, except in the provincial towns and among
persons who do not pride themselves on their good
<i lang="fr">ton</i>.</p>
<p>To receive company in a dining-room, is not
allowed except among those persons who cannot
bear the expense of furnishing a parlor or drawing-room.
Simplicity, admitted into an apartment of
this kind, suited to the smallness of their means, we
cannot but approve, while we regret nevertheless,
the disagreeable things to which such a residence
subjects them. But we have, in this respect, an
express warning to make to people who give themselves
up to it unnecessarily, for it is altogether
opposed to the received usages of good society to
put yourselves in a situation which you cannot
adorn, where you cannot place arm-chairs, a chimney-piece,
a glass, a clock, and all things useful to
persons who come to see you; where you are exposed
to receiving twenty visits during dinner; of seeing
as many interruptions during the setting of your
table, since it is impossible to spread the cloth while
strangers remain; finally, of making them witnesses
of your domestic cares while removing the remains
of a repast, the table-cloth, dishes, &c.</p>
<p>Young mothers of families who wish to have with
them their children, (troublesome guests, in a drawing-room,
as every one knows,) think that they may
<SPAN name="p77" id="p77"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>77<span class="ns">]
</span></span>remain in the dining-room, and have strangers
conducted into an adjacent apartment. That this
may not be inconvenient, it is necessary to observe
three things; first, that strangers be admitted into
this apartment before seeing the mistress of the
house, because they would not fail to create difficulties,
by saying that they did not wish to disturb her;
second, that the apartment be constantly warmed in
winter; third, that in summer it should be furnished
precisely as an occupied chamber, for nothing is
worse than to conduct people into a room which
seems to be to let.</p>
<p>Unless from absolute inability, you ought to light
your staircase. If the practices of good domestic
economy regulated by the cares of civilization, were
more generally extended, a staircase not lighted
would not often be found.</p>
<p>After having thus cast a rapid glance into the
interior of the house, let us see in what manner it is
necessary to receive visitors.</p>
<p>When we see any one enter, whether announced
or not, we rise immediately, advance toward them,
request them to sit down, avoiding however the
old form of, ‘<em>Take the trouble to be seated</em>.’ If it is a
young man, we offer him an arm-chair, or a stuffed
one; if an elderly man, we insist upon his accepting
the arm-chair; if a lady, we beg her to be seated
<SPAN name="p78" id="p78"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>78<span class="ns">]
</span></span>upon the ottoman. If the master of the house receives
the visitors, he will take a chair and place
himself at a little distance from them; if, on the
contrary, it is the mistress of the house, and if she
is intimate with the lady who visits her, she will
place herself near her. If several ladies come at a
time, we give this last place to the one most distinguished
by rank. In winter, the most honorable
places are those at the corner of the fire-place; in
proportion as they place you in front of the fire, your
seat is considered inferior in rank. Moreover, when
it happens to be a respectable married lady, and one
to whom we wish to do honor, we take her by the
hand and conduct her to the corner of the fire-place.
If this place is occupied by a young lady, she ought
to rise and offer her seat to the other lady, taking
for herself a chair in the middle of the circle.</p>
<p>A mistress of a house ought to watch anxiously
that they experience no restraint before her; consequently,
she will take care to present screens to the
ladies seated in front of the fire; she will move
under their feet tabourets, or what is better, pads,
(coussins) but never foot-stoves. If she is alone
with an intimate acquaintance, she will request her
to take hers<!-- TN: original reads "her's" -->, but she will never extend this politeness
to a gentleman.</p>
<p>If a door or window happens to be open in the
<SPAN name="p79" id="p79"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>79<span class="ns">]
</span></span>room in summer time, we should ask of visitors, if
it incommodes them.</p>
<p>If a lady who receives a half ceremonious visit is
sewing, she ought to leave off immediately, and not
resume it except at the request of the visitor. If
they are on quite intimate terms, she ought herself
to request permission to continue. If a person visits
in an entirely ceremonious way, it would be very
impolite to work even an instant. Moreover, even
with friends, we should hardly be occupied with our
work, but should seem to forget it on their account.</p>
<p>In proportion as the visitor is a stranger, the master
or mistress of the house rises, and any persons
who may be already there are obliged to do the same.
Some of them then withdraw; in this case, if the master
and the mistress of the house have with them any
persons of their family, after having conducted as far
as the door those who are going, they request one of
their relations to take their place. If the case be
otherwise, it is necessary to choose between the persons
who remain and those who retire. If the latter
are superior in rank, age or consideration, we must
give them the preference, and <i>vice versa</i>. But however
respectable the person be who departs, we may
dispense with conducting them farther than the door
of the room.</p>
<p>The manner in which we should usually re-conduct
<SPAN name="p80" id="p80"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>80<span class="ns">]
</span></span>visitors is regulated in an invariable manner.
If it is a lady who is to be accompanied, the master
of the house takes her hand, passes it under his arm,
and thus leads her as far as the bottom of the staircase,
unless the steps be so narrow that two cannot
go abreast. It is no longer the custom to give the
hand to ladies, but to offer them the arm. This new
custom does not at all change the ancient rule of
propriety which requires that in descending a staircase,
we should give the side next the wall to the
lady whom we accompany; we commonly present
to her the right arm, provided however, that necessity
does not oblige us, in order to avoid placing her
next the balustrade, to offer the left. If she is to return
in a carriage, we should politely hand her into
it.</p>
<p>In the provincial towns, they conduct all or almost
all visitors, as far as the street door, unless they are
gentlemen and have visited a lady. She ought then
to accompany them, as is always done in Paris, that
is to say, as far as the door of the room, or the head
of the stairs. Parisians add to this custom an agreeable
civility; they hold the door open, and standing
upon the threshold or edge of the staircase, follow
with their eyes the visitor until he turns round to
make the last salutation or adieu, or to request the
host to return.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p81" id="p81"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>81<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>We no longer practice that frank and open hospitality
of the provinces, by virtue of which, in the middle
of winter, we request people to <em>refresh</em> themselves
with some solid eatables. Such a proposal would
now excite a smile. We do not make any such offer
to visitors, but under these circumstances. First,
during very hot weather, we invite them to take a
glass of syrup, or of iced water. Second, if any one
is reading, we offer him <i lang="fr">eau sucrée</i>, that is, the
little household article to which we have given that
name. Third, we offer orange flower water to a lady
who happens to be suddenly indisposed. Excepting
these cases, we make no offer of this kind. If any
one wishes to refresh himself, he requests the mistress
of the house to allow him to ring the bell. After
assent is given, he asks of the domestic who comes,
whatever he desires.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of the Carriage of the Body"><SPAN name="p82" id="p82"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>82<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of the Carriage of the Body.</i></h3>
<p>The carriage of the body seems so simple, so common,
and so easy a thing, that undoubtedly on seeing
this title, many readers will think I design to
send them back to <em>puerile</em> and <em>plain civility</em>. But if
they will take the pains to reflect upon the numberless
violations of propriety in the carriage of the
body, of which they are daily witnesses; if they will
call to the mind the many strange motions, ridiculous
gestures, pretending attitudes, affected looks, and
clownish movements; if they will recollect that the
carriage of the body ought to be in perfect harmony
with the situation, age, mind and sex, and a distinguishing
trait of the physiognomy; if they will
consider the unfavorable prejudices to which a disdainful,
immodest, or vulgar deportment give rise,
they will understand my anxiety in this respect.</p>
<p>It is without doubt impossible to notice all faults
in the carriage of the body. This volume would not
be sufficient for it; we must be satisfied therefore
with designating the principal ones.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p83" id="p83"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>83<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>To look steadily at any one, especially if you are
a lady and are speaking to a gentleman; to turn the
head frequently on one side and the other during
conversation; to balance yourself upon your chair;
to bend forward; to strike your hands upon your
knees; to hold one of your knees between your
hands locked together; to cross your legs; to extend
your feet on the andirons; to admire yourself with
complacency in a glass; to adjust in an affected manner
your cravat, hair, dress, handkerchief; to remain
without gloves; to fold carefully your shawl,
instead of throwing it with graceful negligence upon
a table, &c.; to fret about a hat which you have just
left off; to laugh immoderately; to place your hand
upon the person with whom you are conversing; to
take him by the buttons, the collar of his coat, the
cuffs, the waist, &c.; to seize ladies by the waist, or
to touch their person; to roll the eyes, or to raise
them with affectation; to take snuff from the box of
your neighbor, or to offer it to strangers, especially
to ladies; to play continually with the seals of your
watch, a chain, or a fan; to beat time with the feet
and hands; to whirl round a chair on one leg; to
shake with your feet the chair of your neighbor; to
stroke your face; rub your hands continually; wink
your eyes; shrug up your shoulders; stamp with
your feet, &c.<!-- TN: period invisible in original -->;—all these bad habits, of which we
<SPAN name="p84" id="p84"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>84<span class="ns">]
</span></span>ought never to speak to people, among those who
are witnesses of them, and are in the highest degree
displeasing.</p>
<p>The carriage of the body is as expressive as the
tone of voice, and perhaps more so, because it is
more constant; it betrays to the observer all the
shades of character, and we ought to be very careful
of thus making a general confession, by affected
manners, a pretending deportment, sneering ways,
rough movements, a hard countenance, impertinent
signs and looks, simpering smiles, clownish gestures,
a nonchalant and effeminate posture, or a carriage of
the body distinguished by prudery and stiffness.</p>
<p>Young ladies, and very young men little habituated
to the world, ought to be on their guard against
excessive timidity, for it not only paralyzes their
powers, renders them awkward, and gives them an
almost silly air, but it may even cause them to be
accused of pride, among people who do not know
that embarrassment frequently takes the form of superciliousness.
How often does it happen that timid
persons do not salute you at all, answer in a
low voice, or very ill, omit a thousand little duties
of society, and fail in a numberless agreeable attentions,
for want of courage? These attentions, and
these duties, they discharge in <i lang="it">petto</i>, but who will
thank them for it? A proper degree of confidence,
<SPAN name="p85" id="p85"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>85<span class="ns">]
</span></span>but not degenerating into assurance, still less into
boldness or familiarity, is then one of the most desirable
qualities in the world. To obtain which, we
most observe the <i lang="fr">ton</i>, and the manners of polite and
benevolent people, take them for our guides, and,
under their direction, make continual efforts to conquer
our timidity.</p>
<p>Propriety in the carriage of the body is especially
indispensable to ladies. It is by this that, in a walk,
a ball, or any assembly, people who cannot converse
with them, judge of their merit and their good education.
How many dancers move off, and how many
persons sigh with pity, at the sight of a beautiful
woman who has a mincing way, affects grace, inclines
her head affectedly, and who seems to admire
herself incessantly, and to invite others to admire
her also. Who ever makes up his mind to enter into
conversation with an immovable lady, and one who
is formal and precise, lengthening out the body,
pressing the lips, and carrying back the elbows as
if they were fastened to her side?</p>
<p>The gait of a lady ought neither to be too quick
nor too slow; the most easy and most convenient step
is that which fatigues the least and pleases most.
The body and the head should be erect without affectation
and without haughtiness; the movements,
<SPAN name="p86" id="p86"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>86<span class="ns">]
</span></span>especially those of the arms, easy and natural. The
countenance should be pleasant and modest.</p>
<p>It is not in good <i lang="fr">ton</i> for a lady to speak too quick
or too loud. When seated, she ought neither to
cross her legs, nor take a vulgar attitude. She
should occupy her chair entirely, and appear neither
too restless, nor too immovable. It is altogether
out of place for her to throw her drapery around her
in sitting down, or to spread out her dress for display,
as upstarts do in order to avoid the least rumple.</p>
<p>But what is especially insupportable in this sex is,
an inquiet, bold, and imperious air; for it is unnatural,
and not allowable in any case. If a lady has
cares, let her conceal them from the world, or not
go into it. Whatever be her merit, let her not forget
that she may be a man by the superiority of her
mind and decision of character, but that externally
she ought to be a woman! She ought to present
herself as a being made to please, to love, and to
seek a support; a being inferior to man, and near to
angels. An affectionate, complying, and almost
timid aspect, a tender solicitude for those who are
about her, should be shown in her whole person.
Her face should breathe hope, gentleness and satisfaction;
dejection, anxiety, and ill-humor should be
constantly banished.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p87" id="p87"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>87<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Before leaving a subject so fruitful, I shall point
out to my readers two examples of a bad position.
The one is a <em>fashionable</em> with his head stiff, a borrowed
air, his leg strained out, trembling lest he should
disarrange the symmetry of his cravat, and lest he
should pucker his pantaloons, his sleeve or the collar
of his coat.</p>
<p>The other is an awkward person, with his feet
drawn together and placed upon the round of the
chair, his hands spread out upon his knees, his shoulders
sunk, and his mouth half open. Between these
two caricatures there are many degrees which are
ridiculous, but which we leave to the sagacity of our
readers to appreciate. We come now to our instructions
in respect to conversation. They are so important,
that we think it our duty to divide them
into two parts, namely; physical proprieties, and
moral proprieties.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Physical Proprieties in Conversation"><SPAN name="p88" id="p88"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>88<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER V.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Physical Proprieties in Conversation.</i></h3>
<p>This first division will comprehend the physical
care of the organs we use in conversation, our movements,
the manner of listening, pronunciation, and
purity of speech in a grammatical view.</p>
<h4 title="Physical Observances in Conversation"><SPAN name="p88i" id="p88i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Physical Observances in Conversation.</i></h4>
<p>Conversation is the principal, not to say the only
means of pleasing, and making our way in the world.
How does it happen then, that so many persons converse,
without being troubled at the ridicule thrown
upon themselves, and the <i lang="fr">ennui</i> they occasion their
hearers; without going into the inquiry, whether
they have not some physical qualities which present
more or less obstacles to the art of conversing well,
or without thinking of the means of correcting them!</p>
<p>We shall point out some faults and the means of
remedying them. It is essential in speaking, to be
<SPAN name="p89" id="p89"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>89<span class="ns">]
</span></span>well on our guard not to protrude the tongue too
near the edge of the lips. This bad habit has many
great inconveniences: it occasions a kind of disagreeable
hissing, produced by the immediate contact of
this organ as it passes the teeth; and exposes us to
throw out saliva.<sup><SPAN name="fna13" id="fna13" href="#fn13">13</SPAN></sup> When an unfortunate habit or
too great a development of the tongue produces these
accidents, we should take care to keep this unlucky
organ out of the way on one side of the gums or
the other. As to the fault which is opposite to this,
that is, stammering, by reason of too small size of
the tongue, we should practice when we are alone
speaking distinctly. To declaim and to exercise
ourselves upon the words which present the greatest
difficulties, is a useful exercise.</p>
<p>There are some persons in whom the saliva is so
abundant, that it makes their pronunciation thick;
such persons should accustom themselves to swallow
it before beginning to speak.</p>
<p>Politeness in accordance with health, requires that
our teeth should be perfectly clean. A yellow and
foul set of teeth, which emit an odor, will not suffer
any one to be sensible to our grace or the eloquence
of our language. Feelings of disgust are without
appeal.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p90" id="p90"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>90<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Some persons who have fine teeth, have the lamentable
fault of showing them in speaking; this ridiculous
vanity excites laughter, and besides, injures
the physiognomy: it is not necessary to conceal the
teeth to the utmost, but always without affectation.
To use a tooth-pick while speaking, to carry the fingers
to the gums, to hold a flower between the teeth,
are habits of bad <i lang="fr">ton</i>.</p>
<p>To open the mouth widely when one speaks, especially
when making an exclamation of wonder
or surprise; to draw the mouth on one side to give
ourselves the air of an original; to contract it, in
order to make it small; to laugh violently in an unmeaning
and boisterous manner; to impart to the
lips, trembling and convulsive motions when any
one relates or reads something sad or terrible; to
force our breath into the face of the person we are
conversing with—all these are shocking faults, and
insupportable grimaces.</p>
<h4 title="Of Gestures">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Gestures.</i></h4>
<p>To act a pantomine with every word, cannot be
tolerated; extended or numerous gestures, which do
not accord with the conversation; mysterious signs
accompanying the announcement of the most simple
<SPAN name="p91" id="p91"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>91<span class="ns">]
</span></span>thing; abrupt gestures, in friendly conversation;
mincing gestures, in serious conversation; rapid
movements of the person, sitting or standing, and
who seems to be performing a sort of a dance—all
these are equally great faults against propriety
and good taste.</p>
<p>We should not absolutely condemn gestures,
which, according to the Abbé Delille, give physiognomy
to our conversation. Moderate action corresponding
to our words, and by turns a little comic,
lively, and graceful, are allowable, and even indispensable.
The left hand must not move, but a significant
and exact co-operation of the right hand,
should never be wanting in conversation: but I must
censure dialogists, who put their hand into their pockets
or work-bags, who always rest them joined or
crossed, without making any gesture. Such persons
give themselves the air of automatons, while, on
the other hand, excessive gesticulators, have the
appearance of madmen.</p>
<p>Those persons who in conversing, violently seize
hold of the arm of their chair; play with little objects
which come under their hands; who amuse themselves
by scratching or defacing furniture, turning
their hat backwards and forwards, twisting and untwisting
the strings of their bag, or the ends of their
cravat, are, without doubt, ignorant how much
<SPAN name="p92" id="p92"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>92<span class="ns">]
</span></span>opposed to politeness, are these degrees of familiarity,
childishness and embarrassment. I will briefly
add, that those who are witnesses of all these ridiculous
actions, ought never to notice them, unless they
wish to be still more ridiculous themselves.</p>
<h4 title="Of the Talent of Listening to Others">SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of the Talent of Listening to Others.</i></h4>
<p>To converse, is not to talk continually, as prattlers
suppose; it is to listen and speak in our turn; we
must not acquit ourselves the less well in the one
than in the other. To do this, we should attend half
of the time to the person who is addressing us, (on
this account it is impolite to do any work while talking;)
if they hesitate or are embarrassed, you should
appear not to notice it, and in case you are a little
acquainted, after a few moments, you should, in a
very modest manner, supply the word which seems
to have escaped them. If they are interrupted by
any incident, when the cause of the interruption shall
have ceased, you will not wait until they resume the
conversation, but with a smile of benevolence, and
an engaging gesture, request them to proceed; <em>please
to continue; you were just saying?</em>—If we are obliged
in this manner, to palliate any such interruption,
much more, ought we never to allow ourselves to be
<SPAN name="p93" id="p93"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>93<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the cause of it. This is so rigorous a rule, that if, in
the warmth of conversation, two persons commence
speaking at once, both ought to stop immediately,
when they perceive it, and each, while excusing
themselves, to decline proceeding. It is proper for
the one worthy of the most respect to resume the
conversation.</p>
<p>If a person shall relate anything to you, who,
without having any pleasantry, makes attempts at it;
and without being affecting, endeavors to move
you, however wearied you may be, appear pleased
and assume an air of interest. If the narrator
wanders into long digressions, have patience to let
him extricate himself alone from the labyrinth of his
story. If the history is interminable, be resigned,
and do not appear less attentive. This condescension
is especially to be observed, if you are listening
to an elderly or respectable person. If the merciless
story-teller is your equal or friend, you may say to
him, in order to induce him to finish his narration,
<em class="nw">and finally—</em></p>
<p>Novices in the customs of the world, think they
can abruptly interrupt a conversation which is begun,
by asking to have some incidents, which they have
not understood, explained, or by making the person
who is telling the story repeat the names; this
should not be done until after some consideration,
<SPAN name="p94" id="p94"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>94<span class="ns">]
</span></span>and in the most polite manner. If the narrator pronounces
badly; if you see that other hearers are in
the same situation as yourself; if you foresee that
for want of having followed him in his narration,
you will not be able to reply with politeness, you
can in this case, interrupt; but in some such manner
as this; <em>I ask your pardon, Sir, I fear I have lost
some part of your interesting conversation, will you be
kind enough to repeat it</em>, &c. It is necessary also,
to choose a favorable moment, as for instance, when
the narrator pauses, hesitates for a word, or stops to
take his handkerchief.</p>
<p>When a person relates to you a plain falsehood,
the art of listening becomes embarrassing, for if you
seem to believe it, you would pass for a fool, and if
you appear to doubt it, you will pass for an uncivil
person. An air of coldness, a slight attention, an
expression like the following, <em>That is astonishing</em>,
will extricate you honorably from your embarrassment;
but when an event is narrated which is only
extraordinary, or not improbable, your manner should
be otherwise. Your countenance should express astonishment,
and you should reply by a phrase of this
kind; <em>If I did not know your strict regard for the
truth, or if any person but you had told me this, I
should have hardly believed it.</em> Under no circumstances
should you interrupt him.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p95" id="p95"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>95<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>It happens sometimes that you foresee some incident
in an interesting story; and the pleasure that
you find in this; the desire of showing that you have
guessed correctly, and the intention of proving how
much you are interested, induce you to interrupt suddenly
in this manner, <em>I see it, it is so, exactly</em>. An interruption
of this kind, although well meant and natural,
will offend old persons, who like to tell a story
at full length, and will confound formal narrators,
who will be in despair that a phrase is taken from
them which they had intended for effect; these interruptions
are only allowable among our intimate
friends, or inferiors, for otherwise you will have an
ill-humored answer to your <em>I see it</em>, &c. as with a
triumphant air, <em>egad, but you can’t see it</em>, &c. which
is always embarrassing.</p>
<p>The worst kind of interruption of all others, is that
which hauteur dictates. A clever person seizing
hold of a story which another is telling, and with the
intention of making it more lively, becomes, notwithstanding
his eloquence, a model of impertinence
and vulgarity.</p>
<p>It is, doubtless, hard to see a fool spoil a good anecdote,
of which he might have made something interesting;
but if we should not be restrained by politeness
from expressing our feelings, we ought to
be by interest. Now hearers of delicacy will remain
<SPAN name="p96" id="p96"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>96<span class="ns">]
</span></span>silent to the conclusion of the recital, and will address
themselves with good feelings to the poor narrator
who is injured in his rights.</p>
<p>Interruption is pardonable if it is made to prove
or clear up a fact in favor of a person who is absent.
When they accuse you, you can, according to strict
rules, interrupt by an exclamation, but it is better to
do it by a gesture.</p>
<p>There is often much art and grace in listening,
while you gesticulate gently; for example, by counting
upon the fingers; by making a gesture of surprise;
by a motion of assent, or an exclamation.
This is a tacit manner of saying, <em>ah, I recollect, you
are right</em>, and charms the narrator without interrupting
him.</p>
<p>In a lively, animated and friendly dialogue, we
can interrupt each other by turns, in order to finish
a sentence which is begun, or to improve an epithet;
this contributes to vivacity in discourse, but it ought
not, however, to be too often repeated.</p>
<p>There are many shoals to be avoided in listening,
and which always betray inexperience in society.
To say from time to time to the narrator, <em>Yes, yes</em>,
by nodding the head, making motions with the hand,
a custom of old persons, and which is a good representation
of a pendulum; to keep the eyes fixed and
the mouth gaping open; to have an air of an absent
<SPAN name="p97" id="p97"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>97<span class="ns">]
</span></span>person or of one in a reverie; to point the finger at
persons designated by the narrator; to gape without
concealing by the hand or the handkerchief, which
is by no means flattering to the speaker; to cast your
eye frequently towards the clock—all these habits
are offences against good <i lang="fr">ton</i>.</p>
<h4 title="Of Pronunciation">SECTION IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Pronunciation.</i></h4>
<p>Pronunciation is still more indispensable in conversation
than elocution; for indeed before selecting
our expressions, we must make them understood,
and one can do this but imperfectly if he pronounces
badly. From this fault arise forced repetitions, the
loss of what is appropriate, fatigue, disgust, the impatience
of the two persons speaking, and in fine, all
the sad results of deafness. Should we not use every
effort to rid ourselves of this?</p>
<p>The first, the greatest impediment to pronouncing
well, is volubility. By speaking too fast, we speak
confusedly, and utter inarticulate and unintelligible
sounds, and this, without dispute, is of all the
faults in pronunciation, the most insupportable. We
know very well, that to speak too slowly, and as
they say, to listen to our own words, is a caprice
which seems to denote pride or nonchalance; and
<SPAN name="p98" id="p98"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>98<span class="ns">]
</span></span>that in certain cases it is necessary to speak quickly;
but we ought never to speak precipitately, even on
subjects which require us to be brief. Besides the
physical inconvenience, indistinctness has other
moral inconveniences: it supposes heedlessness,
loquacity, or foolishness.</p>
<p>Next comes hesitancy, which is little less troublesome,
for it fills the conversation with ridiculous and
painful efforts. This defect which is sometimes
owing to the organization, happens still more frequently
from neglecting to think before we speak,
from timidity, from some lively emotion which
obliges us to stammer, or from a formal anxiety to
make use of select terms. This last motive is almost
an excess. With the intention of pleasing persons,
you weary them by repetitions, by far-fetched mincing
words, and in order to appear clever, you render
yourself excessively annoying.</p>
<p>The habits acquired in childhood and in small towns,
and a provincial accent, are frequently obstacles to
good pronunciation; let us instance some examples
of this. It is not uncommon to hear, even among
those who are considered as correct speakers, in
general, such a misuse of words as the following:
<em>Me</em> for <em>I</em>, <em>Miss</em> for <em>Mrs.</em>,<!-- TN: comma omitted in original --> <em>set</em> for <em>sit</em>, <em>sat out</em> for <em>set out</em>,
<em>expect</em>, (of a passed event;) <em>lay</em> for <em>lie</em>, <em>shew</em> for <em>showed</em>,
<em>would</em> for <em>should</em>, <em>hadn’t ought</em> for <em>ought not</em>, &c.
<SPAN name="p99" id="p99"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>99<span class="ns">]
</span></span>As to accent, each province has its peculiarities.
To discover it, to shun it, and to modify it by an opposite
effort, are the means of avoiding these shoals;
but however ridiculous we may appear in running
upon them continually, we are a hundred times less
so than those people who, like true pedagogues, stop
you in the midst of an affecting recital, to repeat
with a sardonic smile, a vulgar phrase, a word badly
pronounced, or a wrong accent which happens to
escape you.</p>
<p>Not only among persons of good society, should
we condemn pedantry in pronunciation, but we
ought, moreover, with Rousseau, to blame over-nicety
of pronunciation or <em>purism</em>. He could not tolerate
(and many others like him,) those people so
particular in sounding every letter of a word.<sup><SPAN name="fna14" id="fna14" href="#fn14">14</SPAN></sup></p>
<p>Besides a general accent, there is also a particular
accent, which gives a shade to the words, when we
express a sentiment. We feel all its delicacy and
its charm, but we feel also that it ought to be in
perfect harmony with the language; that it ought
to be free from all affectation, and all exaggeration.
To utter hard things in a tone of mildness; to
<SPAN name="p100" id="p100"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>100<span class="ns">]
</span></span>display in a humble voice proud pretensions; to open
a political discussion in a caressing tone; to recount
an affair of pleasantry with a melancholy accent,—is
ridiculous in the highest degree. It is no less so, to
force the accent, to pervert it into irony; or to introduce
into discourse, a sort of declamation or
tone.</p>
<p>We cannot judge by the accent of a person who
speaks too high or too low, but we decide, in the
first case, that he is vulgar, and in the second, that
he is disdainful.</p>
<h4 title="Of Correctness in Speaking">SECTION V.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Correctness in Speaking.</i></h4>
<p class="center"><i lang="fr">‘Surtout qu’en vos discours la langue révérée.’</i></p>
<p>In addressing this advice to readers, we shall beware
of considering them as strangers to the rules of
grammar; it is so shameful at the present day to be
ignorant of one’s own language, that it would not
be less so, to suspect others of not knowing it; but
although we may not be deprived of this indispensable
knowledge, it is still necessary carefully to beware
of contracting bad habits in language; of using
bad phrases, and even of using terms of which we
know not the import; a little study and attention
will afford a certain remedy to the embarrassment
which we might experience.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p101" id="p101"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>101<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Young people cannot too much guard against
these faults, which show an education that has been
little attended to. They will arrive at it by studying
a good grammarian, and by paying attention to
the sense of their words.</p>
<p>If, in the silence of the study, we have much
trouble in rendering correctly a long sentence, how
must it be in the world, when the earnestness of
conversation prevents us from reflecting? To make
long phrases, is to be willing to make mistakes in
language; and if we take time to present these interminable
sentences in a correct form, we only appear
the more clumsy, or the more pretending, for
conversation ought never to seem labored, and the
expression and the thoughts ought to be of a simultaneous
casting.</p>
<p>Avoid the pronouns <em>who</em>, <em>which</em>, particularly when
they are interrogatives; for although the grammar
does not absolutely condemn their frequency, yet as
it is useless and disagreeable to the ear, we should
endeavor to avoid it. Thus, instead of <em>who is it who
did such a thing?</em>—<em>what is this thing that is here?</em> say,
<em>who did such a thing?</em>—<em>what is this thing?</em></p>
<p>Persons who are careful of their conversation,
avoid, as faults of language, expressions which certainly
do not deserve this title, but which injure the
clearness, elegance, and harmony of conversation.
<SPAN name="p102" id="p102"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>102<span class="ns">]
</span></span>Thus they will abstain from uniting those words
which, being in conflict as to their meaning and
pronunciation, make an ambiguity, except when
written. They carefully beware of accumulating
synonymes and epithets profusely, or at least, of
forgetting with regard to these last, the laws of gradation;
of multiplying adverbs, which burden and
weaken discourse; they pay great attention to the
requirements of euphony, and, in order to this, avoid
bringing near to each other, words of similar sound,
and of repeating similar words even of the same
meaning, such as <em>at present we offer a present</em>, <em>it does
a good deal of good</em>.</p>
<p>These scrupulous and privileged talkers are particularly
careful of the connecting particles, for they
know how much their omission injures euphony;
how it causes persons who are little charitable, to
believe that it is a covering, under which are adroitly
concealed doubt or ignorance, and this opinion is not
always a prejudice.</p>
<p>I had forgotten to say that our skilful talkers endeavor
not to furnish, by fortuitous coincidences of
words, opportunities for puns; that in the mode of
their conversation, they avoid rhymes so unfortunate
and even ridiculous in prose; that they dread
repetitions of phrases, and axioms, as the repetitions
of words; that by short and judicious pauses, they
<SPAN name="p103" id="p103"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>103<span class="ns">]
</span></span>mark the punctuation in the spoken as in the written
language; finally, that they endeavor to render
their conversation clear, correct and elegant; but
these talking-models would be in less danger of defeating
their object, if they had less of the precise
air of a pedagogue. So far from this, if a grammatical
error escapes them, they quickly correct it,
but with ease and gaiety. If they hear a gross grammatical
error, they do not allow themselves even a
smile, or a look which could indicate their feeling,
or trouble the one guilty of the error.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of the Moral Observances in Conversation"><SPAN name="p104" id="p104"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>104<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER VI.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of the Moral Observances in Conversation.</i></h3>
<p><em>Goodness, moderation and decorum</em>—these are the
motto and the soul of moral propriety in conversation.</p>
<p>A solicitude to be always agreeable and obliging;
of observing a proper medium in everything; of
respecting the rights of others, even in the most trifling
things; susceptibility for every thing which is
connected with delicacy, piety, and modesty—all
these qualities which belong to politeness, are included
in these expressive words; <em>goodness</em>, <em>moderation</em>,
<em>decorum</em>.</p>
<h4 title="Of Formal and Vulgar Usages"><SPAN name="p104i" id="p104i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Formal and Vulgar Usages.</i></h4>
<p>In the first rank of customary formalities, we place
those concerning information about the health. We
shall, necessarily, have little to say on this head;
<SPAN name="p105" id="p105"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>105<span class="ns">]
</span></span>there are, however, some little rules which are not
to be neglected.</p>
<p>It is proper to vary the phraseology of these formal
questions, as much as possible; and we must abstain
from them entirely, towards a superior, or a person
with whom we are but little acquainted, for such
inquiries presuppose some degree of intimacy. In
the last case, there is a method of manifesting our
interest, without violating etiquette; it consists in
making these inquiries of the domestics, or of other
persons of the house, and of saying afterwards when
introduced; ‘I am happy Sir, to hear that you are
in good health.’</p>
<p>Custom forbids a lady to make these inquiries of a
gentleman, unless he is ill or very aged. To put a
corrective upon this mark of regard, a lady who addresses
a gentleman, should be earnest in her inquiries
of the health of his family, however little intimacy
she may have with them. Many persons ask
this question mechanically, without waiting for the
answer, or else hasten to reply, before they have received
it. This is in bad <i lang="fr">ton</i>. Inquiries about the
health, it is true, are frequently unimportant, but
they should appear to be dictated by attention and
kindness. We must not however be deceived, but
be careful not to mention a slight indisposition to
<SPAN name="p106" id="p106"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>106<span class="ns">]
</span></span>persons who are strangers to us, because their interest
can be only formal.</p>
<p>After we are informed of the health of the person
we are visiting, it is proper to inquire of them in relation
to the health of their families; but it would
be wearisome to them, to make a long enumeration of
the members who compose the family. We can put
a general question, designating the most important
members. In case of the absence of near relations,
we ask the person we are visiting, if they have heard
from them lately, if the news is favorable. They,
on their part, ask the same of us.</p>
<p>When you are not on visits of great ceremony, at
the time of taking leave, you are commonly desired
to give the compliments and salutations of the persons
you are visiting to those with whom you live,
then you should reply briefly, but give them assurances
of your regard, and thank them.</p>
<p>Politeness infuses into visits of some little ceremony,
a coloring of modesty, grace, and deference,
which should be preserved with the greatest care.</p>
<p>In speaking, it is always proper to give the name
of <em>Sir</em>, <em>Madam</em>, or <em>Miss</em>, and if the sentence is
somewhat long, the title ought to be repeated. If
the question is with regard to answering in the affirmative
or negative, we ought never to say roughly
<em>yes</em> or <em>no</em>.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p107" id="p107"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>107<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>If the person addressed has a title, or that which
he has from his profession, we should give it him, as
<em>Count</em>, <em>Doctor</em>, &c. In case we meet with many
persons of the same profession, we can then distinguish
them, adding their name to the title.</p>
<p>A lady will not say, my husband, except among
intimates; in every other case, she should address
him by his name, calling him <em>Mr.</em> It is equally good
<i lang="fr">ton</i> that except on occasions of ceremony, and while
she is quite young, to designate him by his christian
name.</p>
<p>But when one speaks to a gentleman of the lady
to whom he is married, he should not say <em>your wife</em>,
unless he is intimately acquainted, but <em>Mrs. such-a-one</em>,
is the most proper. The rules of politeness in
this respect, are the same in speaking of the husband.</p>
<p>When we speak of ourself and another person,
whether he is absent or present, propriety requires
us to mention ourselves last. Thus we should say
<em>he and I</em>, <em>you and I</em>.</p>
<p>When you relate a personal occurrence, the circumstances
connected with which are honorable to
yourself, and a distinguished person had also a share
in the honor, you should only mention him, and instead
of the plural form, <em>we resolved</em>, <em>we did such a
thing</em>, you should forget yourself, and say, <em>Mr. N.
<SPAN name="p108" id="p108"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>108<span class="ns">]
</span></span>resolved, or did such a thing so and so</em>. Delicacy will
dictate this degree of modesty to you, and your superior
in his turn will proclaim at his own expense,
your merit on the occasion.</p>
<p>We know that the word <em>false</em> is not to be found in
the dictionary of politeness, and that when we
are obliged to deny the assertion of any one, we
employ apologetical forms. The most proper ones
are such as the following: <em>I may be mistaken</em>, <em>I am
undoubtedly mistaken, but,...</em> <em>Be so good as to excuse
my mistake, but it seems to me,...</em> <em>I ask pardon, but I
thought</em>, &c. Those persons are but ill-bred, who
think to soften down a denial merely by expressions
of doubt. They say, <em>if what you advance is true</em>, <em>if
what madam says is positive</em>, &c. With these forms,
they think they comply with the rules of politeness.
It is incivility with affectation.</p>
<p>However persons may say invidiously that forms
avail much in the world, I agree with them, but in
quite another sense.</p>
<p>We should never ask a thing of any one without
saying, <em>will you have the goodness</em>, <em>will you do me the
favor</em>, <em>will you be so good</em>, &c.</p>
<p>In a circle, we should not pass before a lady; and
should never present any thing by extending the
arm over her, but we pass round behind, and present
it. In case we cannot do it, we say, <em>I ask your
<SPAN name="p109" id="p109"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>109<span class="ns">]
</span></span>pardon</em>, &c. To a question which we do not fully
comprehend, we never answer, <em>Ha? What?</em> but, <em>Be
so good as</em>, &c. <em>Pardon me, I did not understand.</em></p>
<p>Never refuse with disdain a pinch of snuff, and
rather than disoblige people, take one, even if you
throw it away, after having pretended to take it.
Beware of presenting to ladies, in balls or assemblies,
a box of <em>sweet things</em>, under penalty of having
the air of a caricature.</p>
<p>If you strike against any one in the least, ask pardon
for it immediately. The other should at the
same time answer you, <em>It is nothing, nothing at all</em>,
&c., even if the blow should have been violent.</p>
<p>It is customary to employ the few moments of a
visit of mere politeness, in looking at the portraits
which adorn the fireplace, and even taking them
down, if you are invited to do it. It would be the
extreme of impoliteness, to say that they were flattered,
or to pretend to recognize in the portrait of a
young lady, the likeness of an elderly lady, or of one
less favored by nature. It would moreover be improper
to make long compliments; indirect, and ingenious
praise, is all that is proper.</p>
<h4 title="Of Questions, and frequently recurring Expressions"><SPAN name="p110" id="p110"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>110<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Questions, and frequently recurring Expressions.</i></h4>
<p>It is an axiom of propriety that we should never
speak of ourselves, (except to intimate friends) and
that we should converse with strangers about themselves,
and everything which can interest them.
Questions are therefore necessary, but they demand
infinite delicacy and tact, in order neither to fatigue
nor ever wound the feelings. If, instead of expressing
a mild and heartfelt interest, you ask a dry
question dictated by a cold curiosity; if you seem
to pay no attention to the answers which you call
forth; if you mal-adroitly take a commanding tone;
if you prolong without bounds this kind of conversation;
if, perceiving that you are embarrassed, and
that you endeavor to save yourself by an evasive
answer, instead of keeping silence, you witness the
foolish regrets of your indiscretion; be assured that
both your questions and yourself will be considered
as a torment.</p>
<p>Madame Necker ingeniously observes that these
favorite and frequently repeated terms with which
we fill our conversation, serve, ordinarily as a mark
<SPAN name="p111" id="p111"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>111<span class="ns">]
</span></span>of people’s character. ‘Thus,’ says she, ‘those who
exceed the truth are in the habit of saying, <em>You may
rely upon it, it is the truth</em>; long talkers say, <em>In a
word, to be brief</em>; and the proud say, <em>Without boasting</em>,’
&c. This striking observation is well founded,
and consequently we ought to take good care not
to let people into the secret of our peculiarities.</p>
<p>But, independently of this motive, it is necessary
for us carefully to avoid frequently recurring words,
as in time, habit multiplies them to an inconceivable
degree. They embarrass and overwhelm our conversation,
turn away the attention of those who listen
to us, and render us importunate, and ridiculous,
without our being able to perceive it.</p>
<p>If habitual terms, which on no other account are
reprehensible, can become so troublesome, what results
may these trite phrases, trivial expressions,
and vulgar transitions produce, when they become
frequent!</p>
<h4 title="Of Narrations, Analysis, and Digressions">SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Narrations, Analysis, and Digressions.</i></h4>
<p>There are many conditions indispensable to the
success of a narrative. These conditions are, first,
novelty; the best stories weary when they are
<SPAN name="p112" id="p112"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>112<span class="ns">]
</span></span>multiplied too much, because every one wishes to be an
actor in his turn upon the stage of the world. So
that, when you have anything excellent to relate,
consult less your own desire to tell it, than the
wishes of others to hear you. There are but too many
people who discover the secret of wearying while
telling very good things, on account of their too
great eagerness to tell them.</p>
<p>The next thing is to take a suitable opportunity.
Let your narration spring naturally from the conversation;
let it explain a fact, or come in support of
an opinion, but let it never appear to be introduced
by the foolish pleasure of talking, or by a not less
foolish desire of making a display of talent. Remember
that the most meagre recitals, when they are
àpropos, frequently please more than the best things
in the world, when they are said out of time. And
even endeavoring to monopolize the conversation is
in bad <i lang="fr">ton</i>, particularly for young persons and ladies,
especially if it is but a few moments since they occupied
the attention of the company. It is an agreeable
and modest mark of propriety to request some
one to relate an anecdote of the day, of which you
have made mention, and the circumstances of which
you desire to know. This is well suited to persons
of distinguished talents. The person called upon,
<SPAN name="p113" id="p113"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>113<span class="ns">]
</span></span>bows and excuses himself with a few words before
acceding to your request.</p>
<p>It is of all importance that the language correspond
to the different forms which the narration requires;
that, under pretext of adorning our story, we
do not wander into far-fetched comparisons, dull details,
or interminable dialogues; that if we relate
anything amusing or striking, we should observe the
utmost seriousness, and finally, before commencing
a recital of this kind, we keep in mind these lines of
Lafontaine;</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div>Il ne faut jamais dire aux gens,</div>
<div class="indent2"><span class="ns"> </span>Ecoutez un bon mot, oyez une merveille,</div>
<div>Savez-vous si les écoutans</div>
<div class="indent2"><span class="ns"> </span>En feront une estime à<!-- TN: original lacks accent --> la vôtre pareille?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>When, for want of observing this, as well as many
other similar rules, narrators fail of the expected effect,
and think to be able to tell it over again, and
remarking on the comic part of the story, and laboring
to repeat it thus;—<em>Do you not think this excellent,
wonderful?</em> Alas! they only add to their own defeat,
and to the ennui of their poor hearers.</p>
<p>If one relates an anecdote which you already
know, permit him to finish it, and do not in any way
draw off the attention of those who are listening.
If your opinion is asked, give it frankly, and without
<SPAN name="p114" id="p114"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>114<span class="ns">]
</span></span>wishing to appear better informed than the narrator
himself. Still farther; if you happen to be in
tête-à-tête with the same narrator, observe the same
silence, and listen with an air of interest, and if he
happens to impart to you what he related the preceding
day, which he had from you yourself, you
should appear to listen with equal interest, as if for
the first time. Frequently, in the midst of a recital,
the narrator, through forgetfulness, hesitates, and
thinks that he can recall it. Look at him attentively.
If he is in doubt, declare that you are altogether
ignorant of the subject in question. If his memory
returns, request him to continue, at the same time
saying; <em>I listen to you always with new pleasure</em>.
This delicate politeness is particularly to be observed
towards old persons.</p>
<p>When your narrations have had success, keep a
modest countenance; leave others to point out the
striking parts which have pleased them. The surest
means of not having the approbation of others, in
actions as well as other things, is to solicit it, whether
it be by looks, or by words.</p>
<p>As every hearer is obliged to listen or understand
without objecting, the consequence is, that we should
<em>feel our ground</em> before speaking, and ask if such or
such a thing is known to the company. When a
story has been published in the newspapers, so that
<SPAN name="p115" id="p115"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>115<span class="ns">]
</span></span>it is not entirely new, or seems borrowed from a
compilation of <i>anas</i><!-- collections of anecdotes etc - see OED -->, if we attribute it to some person
of our acquaintance, (of course one that is absent,)
an ineffable ridicule very properly stigmatizes the
narrator.</p>
<p>We come now to what seems to me the most difficult
part of conversation, and if you are not sure of
being able to class your ideas with regularity, to express
them with much clearness, and an easy elegance,
do not have the temerity to wish to analyze
a book, or a dramatic piece. You would be laying
up for yourself a rude mortification, which would
have an unfavorable influence on your <i lang="fr">entrée</i><!-- TN original reads "entré" --> into
society. You would be wrong, however, in concluding,
that I condemn you to perpetual silence; I only
wish to inspire you with a salutary diffidence, in order
to preserve you from such a rude check, and to
put it in your power some future day to answer, in
this particular, the wishes of a distinguished and
brilliant assembly.</p>
<p>Begin by putting down upon paper a hasty sketch
of a short piece, as for instance a <i lang="fr">vaudeville</i>, or a
little comedy. You will do this until, being sure
of the manner in which you would embrace the
<i lang="fr">ensemble</i>, and dispose of the details, you can produce
it without embarrassment. When arrived at this
point, abstain from these kinds of analysis, which
though indeed more correct, seem labored. They
<SPAN name="p116" id="p116"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>116<span class="ns">]
</span></span>have besides less freedom, appropriateness, and
grace.</p>
<p>Know this, and remember it well, that every other
preparation than thinking what you are about to say,
will make you acquire two intolerable faults, affectation
and stiffness.</p>
<p>To conclude, I give this advice only to those persons
who, by a quick and penetrating perception, by
a love of the fine arts, and by a peculiar readiness,
find themselves able to speak properly of literary
productions.</p>
<p>Those who are less engaged in these things, should
content themselves with simply and briefly explaining
a subject, and of mentioning the emotion they
felt; with speaking of some brilliant passage, and
adding that they do not pretend to pronounce judgment.</p>
<p>The first degree of digression is the parenthesis;
provided it is short, natural, and seldom repeated;
and that you take care to announce it always; and
finally, in order not to abuse it, you should make
a skilful use of it. The second degree of digression
becomes more nice, for it includes those accessory
reflections, those common but agreeable
and well-settled expressions; those general or particular
allusions, which are only to be used with a
peculiar emphasis, which is to language what the
<SPAN name="p117" id="p117"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>117<span class="ns">]
</span></span>italic character is to printing. This method of
speaking in italics may be striking and artless; but
it often becomes obscure and trivial; the habit is
dangerous, and one should use this difficult digression
only before intimate friends.</p>
<p>We now come to the third degree, to what is
properly called digression; most frequently it is involuntary.
Often in a lively and animated dialogue,
the impetus of conversation carries you, as well as
the person with whom you are conversing, far from
the point from which you started. If it is a question
of pleasure or interest, return to your point by employing
a polite turn, as, <em>Pray let us not lose sight of
our business</em>. But if it is an affair of nothings succeeding
nothings, let it flow on.</p>
<p>Voluntary digression, when it is not a mere work
of loquacity, may be employed in serious discourse,
as political, philosophical, or moral discussions; but
it is important to treat it with infinite reserve, and
care, and never to introduce a personal apology, or
a domestic incident, altogether out of place, as those
persons do, who, in narrating any event relative to
an individual, recount his life, their connexion with
him, or his whole family, and make the event of an
hour remind us of ages.</p>
<p>Lawyers, literary people, military men, travellers,
<SPAN name="p118" id="p118"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>118<span class="ns">]
</span></span>invalids and aged ladies, ought to have a prudent
and continual distrust of the abuse of digressions.</p>
<h4 title="Of Suppositions and Comparisons">SECTION IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Suppositions and Comparisons.</i></h4>
<p>The two shoals to be avoided in this form of language
are directly opposed to each other; the one is
triviality, the other bombast.</p>
<p>The object of supposition, which is already antiquated,
and sometimes too simple, is to increase the
force of reasoning, and to carry conviction to the
mind of the person who listens to you; comparison
tends to make an image, or to place before us the
object described. When both these qualities are
regulated by reason, use, and taste, it is very well;
but how seldom is this the case!</p>
<p>They are not so used, if, in the course of a discussion,
you suppose a respectable person to supply
the place of a madman, an ill-bred person, or a robber;
or, if you suppose him to be in a situation disgraceful
or even ridiculous. As, for example; <em>If
you had been this bad person</em>; or, <em>Suppose, that you
had committed this base act</em>; or, <em>that you should be
laughed at</em>, &c.</p>
<p>They are also misplaced, whenever, being satisfied
with avoiding disagreeable comparisons, we endeavor
<SPAN name="p119" id="p119"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>119<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to mark out some one as contemptible, by comparing
his exterior with that of some other person
in the company. When we say; <em>This unfortunate
man is of your size, sir; he has your traits, your
physiognomy</em>, &c.</p>
<p>They are also misplaced, if used in the presence of
people of a profession upon which the injurious comparisons
fall, as when we say; <em>As quackish as a doctor</em>;
<em>greedy as an attorney</em>; <em>loquacious as a
lawyer</em>, &c.</p>
<p>Finally, politeness and taste cannot at all exist
in comparisons, if they are common or trivial, as
when we say, <em>black as the chimney-back</em>, <em>high as one’s
hand</em>, &c.<!-- TN: period omitted in original -->; or, if they are in a turgid and pretending
style, such as, <em>learned as the Muses</em>, <em>fresh as the
meadows</em>, &c.</p>
<h4 title="Of Discussions and Quotations">SECTION V.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Discussions and Quotations.</i></h4>
<p>Whatever be the subject of conversation, propose
your opinion with modesty; defend it with sangfroid
and a mild tone if you are opposed; yield
with a good grace if you are wrong; yield also, although
you are in the right, if the subject of discussion
is of little importance, and especially if the one
who opposes you is a lady, or an old person.
<SPAN name="p120" id="p120"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>120<span class="ns">]
</span></span>Moreover, if love of truth or the desire of affording instruction
force you to enter into a discussion, do it
with address and politeness. If you do not bring
over your opponent to your own opinion, you will
at least gain his esteem.</p>
<p>But if you have to do with one of those people who,
possessed with a mania of discussion, commence
by contradicting before they hear, and who are always
ready to sustain the contrary opinion, yield to
him; you will have nothing to gain with him. Be
assured that the spirit of contradiction can be conquered
only by silence.</p>
<p>The insupportable pedantry of a cloud of quoters,
without tact or talent, has justly, for a long time,
thrown quotations into disrepute; but if they are
well chosen, few, and short; if they are à-propos,</p>
<p class="display"><small>Qui fuit comme le temps,
qui plaît<!-- TN: original reads "plait" --> comme les grâces<!-- TN; original reads "graces" -->;</small></p>
<p>if they are altogether new, and wielded by
a person possessed of modesty, elegance, and taste,
having a perfect knowledge of the world, quotations
have much success and charm; but without these
conditions, there is little safety; and in this matter
there can be no mediocrity; you will either be a
good model, or an insupportable pedant. Consider
if you will rashly run this chance, especially on
making your début in society, when young persons
<SPAN name="p121" id="p121"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>121<span class="ns">]
</span></span>ought so carefully to avoid making a parade of a vain
college erudition, and not seek the reputation of
a savant by employing words borrowed from foreign
languages, or scientific terms unknown in good society.</p>
<h4 title="Of Pleasantry, Proverbs, Puns, and Bon Mots">SECTION VI.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Pleasantry, Proverbs, Puns, and Bon Mots.</i></h4>
<p>If society is not a school for exercising pedantry,
neither is it an arena for the use of those perversely
clever people, who think themselves furnished with
a patent to insult with grace. Whatever may be the
keenness of their sarcasms, the piquancy of their
observations, or the smile which they excite in me, I
do not the less refuse to allow to those caustic spirits
the name of polite persons, or of good <i lang="fr">ton</i>; for, in
politeness there must be good feeling. But those
who incessantly study to trouble and wound people,
without taking any precaution except to deprive
them of the right or means of complaining; who
are ready to catch at the least error, to exaggerate
it, to clothe it in the most bitter language, to
present it in the most ridiculous light; who meanly
attack those who cannot answer them, or expose
themselves every day for a sarcasm to sport with
<SPAN name="p122" id="p122"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>122<span class="ns">]
</span></span>their own life and that of another in a duel—such
people, what are they?—in truth, I dare not say.</p>
<p>One such picture, which, certainly is not highly
colored, would render pleasantries always odious;
but to indulge in pleasantry is not to resemble such
mischievous persons, thank heaven, it is far otherwise;
for mild, kind, and harmless pleasantry
should be taken in good part even by those who are
the subjects of it; it is a friendly, and sportive contest,
in which severity, jealousy, and resentment
should never appear; whenever you perceive the
least trace of them, the pleasantry is at an end; desist,
then, the moment they appear.</p>
<p>As to hoaxing, that caustic of fools; as to that
silly gaiety, excited by the candor or politeness of
people whom you falsely cause to believe the most
foolish things, because they do not make known to
you that they see through this pleasure of stupid
fellows, I have nothing to say of them, except that I
have too good an opinion of my reader to suppose
that he does not despise them as I do.</p>
<p>Popular quotations and proverbs, as well as other
quotations, require some care; and, except in familiar
conversation, are altogether misplaced. If they
are frequent, conversation becomes a tedious gossipping;
if introduced without a short previous remark,
one of two things will take place, they will
<SPAN name="p123" id="p123"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>123<span class="ns">]
</span></span>either prevent the speaker from being understood, or
they will give him the air of Sancho Panza. But
the previous remark, however, need be but short;
<em>as the proverb says</em>, <em>as the wisdom of nations has it</em>.
A proverb well applied, and placed at the end of a
phrase, frequently makes a very happy conclusion.</p>
<p>I only speak to censure; I entreat my readers
not to suffer themselves to be the manufacturers of
puns, and to despise this talent of fools and childish
means to excite a passing laugh. Not that we cannot
repeat in good company one of those rare political
bon mots which are happy in every respect; nor
that we ought to deprecate this kind of pleasantry
before people who are fond of them, still less to tell
them what they hear every day, <em>That is poor</em>; to
have taste, does not authorize us to be impolite.</p>
<p>We must be much more severe upon another kind
of équivoques; namely, those which offend modesty.
Propriety allows you, and it even requires you not
to listen to, but even to interrupt an ill-bred person
who importunes you with those indecent witticisms
which a man of good society ought always to avoid;
they are those by aid of which we cover certain
pleasantries with a veil so transparent, that they are
the more observed. What pleasure can we find in
causing ladies to blush, and in meriting the name of
a man of bad society?</p>
<p><SPAN name="p124" id="p124"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>124<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>There are those who think that they may allow
themselves every kind of pleasantry before certain
persons; but a man of good <i lang="fr">ton</i> ought to observe it
wherever he is. We might quote more than one
example of persons, who have lost politeness of manners
and of language by assuming the habits and
conversation of all kinds of society into which chance
may have carried them. It requires but a moment
to lose those delicate shades of character which constitute
a man of the world, and which cost us so
much labor to acquire.</p>
<p>It is a great error to suppose that we must always
shine in conversation, and that it is better to make
ourselves admired by a lively and ready repartee,
than to content ourselves sometimes with silence, or
with an answer less brilliant than judicious.<sup><SPAN name="fna15" id="fna15" href="#fn15">15</SPAN></sup> We
<SPAN name="p125" id="p125"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>125<span class="ns">]
</span></span>must not imagine that all traits of wit are in the
class of politeness; a vain and triumphant air spoils
a bon mot; moreover, when you repeat a thing of
this kind of which you are the author, beware of
saying so to your auditors.</p>
<h4 title="Of Eulogiums, Complainings, Improprieties in general, and Prejudices">SECTION VII.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Eulogiums, Complainings, Improprieties in general,
and Prejudices.</i></h4>
<p>One of the most improper things, is to praise to
excess and unseasonably. Extravagant and misplaced
eulogiums neither honor the one who bestows
them, nor the persons who receive them.</p>
<p>An infallible method of giving a meritorious person
the air of a fool, is to address him to his face
and without disguise, to load him with exaggerated
eulogiums; it is indeed not a little embarrassing to
reply in such a case. If we remain silent, we appear
to be inhaling the incense with complacency; if we
repel it, we only seem to excite it the more. Thus
we see, in such a case, and even among very clever
persons too, those who reply by silly exclamations
and by rude assertions. <em>You were laughing at me</em>,
they say; this cannot be tolerated; it is to be supposed
that the person who praises you is incapable
of such an act. I think it would be better to say, <em>I
<SPAN name="p126" id="p126"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>126<span class="ns">]
</span></span>did not know you were so kind</em> (or so good) <em>I should
indeed think you were joking me</em>. Or else, we should
say, <em>your partiality blinds you</em>.</p>
<p>Persons who are unacquainted with the world,
commonly think that they cannot address a lady
without first assailing her with compliments. This
is a mistake, gentlemen, and I can with relation to
this point, reveal to you what my sex prefers to
these vulgar eulogiums.</p>
<p>It is in bad <i lang="fr">ton</i> to overwhelm with insipid flattery
all women that we meet, without distinction of age,
rank or merit. These insipidities may indeed please
some of light and frivolous minds, but will disgust a
woman of good sense. Carry on with them a lively,
piquant and varied conversation; and remember
that they have a too active imagination, a too great
versatility of disposition, to support conversation for
a long time upon the same subject.</p>
<p>But is it then necessary to proscribe eulogiums entirely?
Not at all—society has not yet arrived at that
degree of philosophy; eulogiums are and will for a
long time be a means of success; but they should be
in the first place, true, or at least probable, in order
not to have the appearance of outrageous insults;
they should be indirect and delicate, that we may
listen to them without being obliged to interrupt;
<SPAN name="p127" id="p127"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>127<span class="ns">]
</span></span>and they should be tempered with a sort of judgment,
the skilful use of which, is itself even a eulogium.</p>
<p>I repeat, as I have often said, let there be moderation
in everything.</p>
<p>Should we not regard as gross and ridiculous
language, that exaggeration which we frequently
hear used in praise as well as in censure? It seems
that true politeness in language consists principally
in a certain moderation of expressions. It is much
better to cause people to think more than we say,
and not outrage language, and run the risk of going
beyond what we ought to say.</p>
<p>Under any circumstances, complaining has always
a bad grace.</p>
<p>Banish from your complaints ill-nature and animosity;
let your anger be only an expression of the
wrong you have suffered, and not of that which you
would cause; this is the surest means of gaining to
your side persons who would perhaps be doubtful
whether to favor your adversary or yourself.</p>
<p>Politeness is not less opposed to making excessive
complaints to the first person you meet, than to the
frequent and extravagant eulogiums which you bestow
improperly upon those from whom you expect
a favor in return.</p>
<p>By the word improprieties, we generally understand
all violations of politeness. We, however, give
<SPAN name="p128" id="p128"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>128<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to this word a particular and limited sense. It signifies
a want of due regard to, and a forgetfulness of,
the delicate attentions which seem to identify us
with the situation of others. We will mention some
examples of these particular violations of politeness.
To accost sad people with a smiling face and sprightly
manners, which prove to them the little interest
which you take in their situation; to trouble by a
whimsical and cross ill-humor, and by misanthropic
declamations, the pleasure of contented persons; to
exalt the advantages of beauty before aged ladies or
those who are naturally unfortunate; to speak of the
power that wealth bestows in the presence of people
hardly arrived at mediocrity of fortune; to boast of
one’s strength or health before a <span class="nw">valetudinarian, &c.</span></p>
<p>The sense which we here give to the term <em>prejudices</em>
is still more limited than that which we have
just given to the expression <em>improprieties</em>.</p>
<p>We do not mean to speak here of those erroneous
judgments, acknowledged as such, which though
undermined, and shaken, are still respected by that
society which they torment. We wish only to admonish
our fair readers of those unfriendly prejudices
of nation against nation, city against city, and
section against section; that malevolent disposition
which with a Parisian makes the name <em>provincial</em>,
synonymous with awkwardness and bad <i lang="fr">ton</i>, and
<SPAN name="p129" id="p129"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>129<span class="ns">]
</span></span>which, in the saloons of the <span lang="fr">Chausée<!-- TN: original reads "Chausèe" --> d’Antin</span>, allows
no favor to persons lodging in the Marais; because
the people of the Marais, provincials and Englishmen,
do not consider it any fault to return prejudice
for prejudice, and contempt for contempt.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Epistolary Composition"><SPAN name="p130" id="p130"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>130<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER VII.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Epistolary Composition.</i></h3>
<p>Next to social communications by means of
visits and conversation, are communications by
means of letters and billets. It is not only absence,
but a multiplicity of business, and a great number of
relations which give a very great extension to this
part of our social interests.</p>
<p>Our readers have too much judgment to think that
we wish to give them lessons in style, or teach them
how they should write letters of friendship, of congratulation,
of condolence, of apology, of recommendations,
of invitation, of complaint, or of censure.
This enumeration alone, shows the impossibility of
it. Some general reflections upon propriety in epistolary
composition, and strict details of the forms
and ceremonial parts of letters, will compose this
important chapter.</p>
<h4 title="Of Propriety in Letter Writing"><SPAN name="p130i" id="p130i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Propriety in Letter Writing.</i></h4>
<p>If in conversation we ought to attend to propriety
of language, its choice and graceful euphony, how
<SPAN name="p131" id="p131"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>131<span class="ns">]
</span></span>much more is it necessary to endeavor to make our
style in writing clear, precise, elegant, and appropriate
to all subjects. Vivacity of discourse forces
us frequently to sacrifice happy though tardy expressions
to the necessity of avoiding hesitancy; but
what is thus an obstacle in speaking, does not interfere
with the use of the pen. We ought, therefore,
to avoid repetitions, erasing, insertions, omissions,
and confusion of ideas or labored construction. If
we write a familiar letter to an equal or a friend,
these blemishes may remain; but otherwise, we
must commence our letter again.</p>
<p>The most exact observance of the rules of language
is strictly necessary; a fault of orthography, or an
incorrect expression, are not allowable, even in the
least careful letter or the most unimportant billet.
Even correction is not admissible; for, besides being
a blemish to the letter, it betrays the ignorance or
inattention of him who writes it. For these reasons,
it is well to make a rough draft, if we are little accustomed
to epistolary style, and if being very young,
we cannot perfectly remember the rules of syntax,
and the dictionary. Some persons, it is true, censure
this precaution, which, say they, marks the
style with affectation and stiffness. This censure
does not seem to me well-founded. The loss of time
which this method requires, is a more real inconvenience;
<SPAN name="p132" id="p132"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>132<span class="ns">]
</span></span>and for this reason, and on account of the
embarrassment with which we may be troubled, it is
well to accustom ourselves to writing a letter <i>extempore</i>
with neatness, elegance and correctness.</p>
<p>The choice of materials for writing, without being
very essential, is yet necessary; to write on very coarse
paper, is allowable only to the most indigent; to use
gilt edged and perfumed paper for letters of business,
would be ridiculous. The selection of paper ought
always to be in keeping with the person, the age,
the sex, and the circumstances of the correspondents.
Ornamented paper, of which we have just spoken;
paper bordered with colored vignettes and embossed
with ornaments in relief upon the edges; and paper
slightly colored with delicate shades, are designed
for young ladies, and those whose condition, taste,
and dignity, presuppose habits of luxury and elegance.
Many distinguished people, however, reasonably
prefer simplicity in this thing, and make use of
very beautiful paper, but yet without ornament.</p>
<p>People of business, heads of companies or establishments,
and persons of distinction, with many
titles, use paper printed at the top, that is to say,
having the name of their residence, the three first
figures of the date of the year, their address, and
these words, <em class="nw">Mr. ——</em>, (here follow the titles) to
<em class="nw">Mr. ——</em>.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p133" id="p133"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>133<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>It is extremely impolite to write a letter upon a
single leaf of paper, even if it is a billet; it should
be always double, even though we write only two or
three lines. It is still more vulgar to use for an envelope,
paper on which there are one or two words
foreign to the letter itself, whether they be written
or printed.</p>
<p>Billets, letters folded lengthwise, and half-envelopes,
are little used. A folded letter, especially if
written upon vellum paper, should be pressed at the
folds by means of a paper-folder.</p>
<p>The rules of politeness ought moreover to decide
as to the expense of postage. They require us to
defray the expense of the letter if it is written to
distinguished persons, or to those of whom we ask
any favor; but it would be an incivility, and sometimes
a want of delicacy, to do it when we write to
a friend, an acquaintance, or to persons of little fortune,
whose feelings we should fear to wound. We
must therefore, in order to save them the expense as
well as to avoid dissatisfaction, endeavor to make
some excuse of business.</p>
<p>Letters for new year’s day, and other holidays,
are usually written beforehand, in order to arrive on
the previous or very same day. This is particularly
required towards relations; for friends and intimate
<SPAN name="p134" id="p134"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>134<span class="ns">]
</span></span>acquaintances, the following week will do, and for
other persons, any time within the month.</p>
<p>It is as indispensable to answer when you are
written to, as when you are spoken to, and the indolence
which so many correspondents allow in themselves,
in this respect, is an incivility. And if after
all they decide to answer, they begin by apologies so
constantly renewed, that they become common-place.
We must use much care that these excuses may not
be ridiculous. Conciseness, and some new terms of
expression, are, in this case, indispensable. The
same observation is applicable in making use of reproving
terms.</p>
<p>Letters supply the place of visits, as we have
seen, in bestowing presents, or on occasions of marriages,
funerals, &c.<!-- TN: period omitted in original -->; to neglect to write in a similar
case, is gross impoliteness.</p>
<p>Two persons should not write in the same letter,
by one writing upon the first, and another upon the
second leaf, except we are intimate with the correspondent.
The same is applicable to postscripts. It
is not allowable, except to familiar friends, to use
expressions borrowed from foreign languages, as for
instance the phrase of the Italians, <em>I kiss your hands</em>,
&c. The language of men who write to ladies ought
always to have a polish of respect, with which the
latter might dispense in answering. Except on
<SPAN name="p135" id="p135"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>135<span class="ns">]
</span></span>occasions of great ceremony, a lady ought not to address
to a man such phrases as, <em>I have the honor to
be</em>, &c. while the latter should use the most respectful
terms, as <em>Deign, madam, to allow me</em>; <em>allow me
the honor of presenting you my respects</em>, &c.</p>
<p>You may use a lofty style towards persons to whom
you owe respect; on easy, trifling, or even jesting
style, towards a friend; and a courteous style towards
ladies generally. You should not write in a
trifling style to persons of a higher standing. It
sometimes happens that a man of superior rank honors
with his friendship a man of lower condition, and
is pleased that the latter writes to him without ceremony.
In this case we may use the privilege which
is given us; but we must take care not to abuse it,
and to make known from time to time that we are
ready to confine ourselves within respectful bounds.</p>
<p>When you write upon any subject, consider it
fully before putting it upon paper, and treat of each
topic in order, that you may not be obliged to recur
to any one again, after having spoken of another
thing.</p>
<p>If you have many subjects to treat of in the same
letter, commence with the most important; for if
the person to whom you write is interrupted while
reading it, he will be the more impatient to resume
<SPAN name="p136" id="p136"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>136<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the reading, however little interesting he may find
it.</p>
<p>It is useful and convenient to begin a new paragraph
at every change of the subject.</p>
<p>After having written <em>Sir</em> or <em>Madam</em> at the top of
the letter, we should not commence with one of these
phrases; <em>Sir, madam —, your sister, has written me,
that</em>. We should say, <em>I understand by a letter which
madam —, your sister, has written me</em>.</p>
<p>Take care also, when writing to a person worthy
of respect, not to make compliments to any one.
But write to this third person whatever you wish
him to know.</p>
<p>Titles of respect, as <em>Lordship</em>, <em>Majesty</em>, <em>Highness</em>,
<em>Excellency</em>, <em>Honor</em>, <em>Madam</em>, &c. ought never to be
abbreviated, either in writing to the persons themselves,
or to any one who has acquaintance with
them.</p>
<p>Figures are used only for sums and dates; numbers
of men, days, weeks, &c. are to be written at
length.</p>
<h4 title="Of the Interior and Exterior Form of Letters">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of the Interior and Exterior Form of Letters.</i></h4>
<p>The interior form of a letter comprehends the titles
and qualities of persons to whom it is proper to give
<SPAN name="p137" id="p137"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>137<span class="ns">]
</span></span>them; the more or less courteous phrases which we
use; the more or less respectful manner with which
the commencement and body of the letter are to be
arranged; and the more or less humble terms which
we are to use for the signature, the address or the
superscription.</p>
<p>The exterior form of a letter is what concerns the
size of the paper; the blank that we should leave
between the <i lang="fr">vedette</i>, (or line containing only the
name) and the first line; between the last line, the
appellation, and signature; the manner of folding
the letter, and the choice and mode of putting on the
seal.</p>
<p>In addressing the pope, we say at the top of
the letter, <em>Holy Father</em>, or <em>Most Holy Father</em>; and
instead of <em>You</em>, we should say, <em>Your Holiness</em>; to
a prince cardinal, <em>My Lord</em>, and <em>Your Most Eminent
Highness</em>.</p>
<p>To a cardinal, <em>My Lord</em>, and <em>Your Eminence</em>.</p>
<p>To an archbishop or bishop, <em>My Lord</em>, and <em>Your
Grace</em>.</p>
<p>To an emperor or empress, we say, <em>Sire</em>, or <em>Madam</em>;
and instead of <em>You</em>, we say, <em>Your Imperial Majesty</em>.</p>
<p>To a king we also say, <em>Sire</em>, and <em>Your Majesty</em>.</p>
<p>To a queen, <em>Madam</em>, and <em>Your Majesty</em>.</p>
<p>To the brother of a king, <em>Your Royal Highness</em>.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p138" id="p138"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>138<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>To an elector of the empire, <em>Your Electoral Highness</em>.</p>
<p>To a sovereign prince, <em>Your Most Serene Highness</em>.</p>
<p>To a prince, <em>Your Highness</em>.</p>
<p>To an ambassador or minister, <em>Your Excellency</em>.</p>
<p>To the chancellor of France, <em>My Lord</em>, and <em>Your
Lordship</em>.</p>
<p>The title <em>Excellency</em> is not given to ladies.</p>
<p>Persons who have an exact knowledge of the language
and usage of the court, know what is the most
proper manner of expressing themselves. We will
give some examples in which the different degrees
of respect may be readily perceived.</p>
<p>‘I have received the letter with which you have
been pleased to honor me.’</p>
<p>‘I have received the letter which you have done me
the favor to write to me, which you have done me the
honor to write to me, which you have taken the
trouble to write to me.’</p>
<p>There are some persons who commence their letters
with these words; <em>I have received yours<!-- TN: original reads "your's" --> of the
12th current</em>; this is a fault; we should say, <em>your letter</em>.
The first is the style of those people who, being
pressed with business, are obliged to make abbreviations;
and we must, in the common customs of life,
beware of imitating them in this respect. We may
say the same in respect to persons who write at the
<SPAN name="p139" id="p139"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>139<span class="ns">]
</span></span>top of their letters, ‘<em>I</em> have received <em>your honored
letter</em> of such a date;’ or, ‘in answer to <em>your honored
letter</em>;’ or, ‘<em>I write you these few words</em>.’ All these
forms are objectionable.</p>
<p>We should never repeat in the first sentence of a
letter, the names <em>My Lord</em>, <em>Sir</em>, or <em>Madam</em>, with
which we began. But if we write to a prince, or
even to a minister, we should after the first line use
the words, <em>Your Majesty</em>, <em>Your Highness</em>, or <em>Your
Excellency</em>, and repeat them from time to time, in the
course of the letter, if it is of some length.</p>
<p>As to the conclusion of a letter, we should not say
simply, <em>I am</em>, without adding some such phrase as
these; <em>With the most profound respect</em>; <em>with profound
respect</em>, <em>with the highest regard</em>, &c. To persons who
have the title of <em>majesty</em>, <em>highness</em>, <em>eminence</em>, &c. we
say, <em>I am your majesty’s</em>, or <em>your highness’s</em>, &c. <em>very
humble</em>, &c.</p>
<p>The words <em>esteem</em> and <em>affection</em> are used only in
letters to friends or acquaintance, because they are
too familiar; but when accompanied by any words
which relieve them, they do not offend one. As for
example, we can say, <em>I am with profound respect, and
the highest esteem</em>, &c.</p>
<p>The following forms may be used with elegance;</p>
<p>Accept, Sir, the assurances of high consideration;
be pleased to accept the <span class="nw">assurances, &c.</span></p>
<p><SPAN name="p140" id="p140"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>140<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Letters of petition or request should be in folio,
that is to say, upon a sheet of paper in its full size;
the margin should be half the breadth of the page;
the spaces and blanks which we ought to leave between
the upper edge of the paper and the <i lang="fr">vedette</i>,<sup><SPAN name="fna16" id="fna16" href="#fn16">16</SPAN></sup>
and between the <i lang="fr">vedette</i> and the first line, are very
different, according to the degree of inferiority or
superiority. The greater these spaces are, the more
respect do they indicate. The first line ought always
to begin below the middle of the page, when
we write to a person to whom we owe much respect;
but the second page should begin one line below the
<i lang="fr">vedette</i>. A blank space should always be left between
the last words of the signature, and the lower
edge of the paper. If there should not be sufficient
room, it would be better to carry one or two lines
over to the succeeding page, than to fail in this
respect.</p>
<p>For a familiar letter, it has become fashionable to
leave no margin at all. It is, however, in these letters
only that margins can be useful, namely, in receiving
a vertical line when all the paper is filled.</p>
<p>The date of a letter may be put at the beginning
when we write to an equal; but in writing to a superior,
it should be at the end, in order that the title
<SPAN name="p141" id="p141"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>141<span class="ns">]
</span></span>at the head of the letter may be entirely alone. In
letters of business, on the contrary, it is necessary
to date at the top and on the first line, that persons
may know conveniently, the chronological order of
their communications.</p>
<p>The date is often necessary to the understanding
of many passages of your letter, or to explain the
sense of one which your correspondent may have received
at the same time from another person.</p>
<p>In a simple billet, we put the date of the day,
<em>Monday</em>, &c. It is well sometimes to add the hour.</p>
<p>Every letter to a superior ought to be folded in
an envelope. It shows a want of respect to seal
with a wafer; we must use sealing-wax. Men
usually select red; but young ladies use gilt, rose,
and other colors. Both use black wax when they
are in mourning. Except in this last case, the color
is immaterial, but not the size, for very large ones
are in bad taste. The smaller and more glossy, the
better <i lang="fr">ton</i> they are. Although sealing-wax is preferable,
still we must sometimes avoid using it; it is
when we are afraid that the seal may be opened.</p>
<p>When the letter is closed with or without an envelope,
we put only a single seal upon it; but if the
letter is large, we use two. Moreover, if it contains
important papers, it should have three seals or more,
according to the nature of the envelope. If a
<SPAN name="p142" id="p142"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>142<span class="ns">]
</span></span>person takes charge of a letter as a favor, it would be
very impolite to put more than one seal upon it. If
the letter should be folded in such a manner that by
partly opening it at the end, its contents may be
read, it would be equally impolite to put a little wax
upon the edges. We can use this precaution only
when the letter is sent by the post or by a domestic.</p>
<p>When we use no envelope, and the third page of
the letter is all written upon, we should leave a
small blank space where the seal is to be put; without
this precaution, many very important words will
be covered.</p>
<p>We should not seal a letter of respect with an antique
device. It is more polite to use our coat
of arms or cipher.</p>
<p>Persons of taste, who have no coat of arms, adopt
a seal bearing some ingenious device, in keeping with
their profession, <span class="nw">sentiments, &c.</span></p>
<p>A letter which is to be shown, as a letter of introduction
or recommendation, ought never to be sealed,
since the bearer ought necessarily to know the
contents. But to seal it without having first allowed
the bearer to read it, would be very impolite.
You should prove to the person recommended, that
you have spared no pains to render him a service.</p>
<p>It is only conscripts, and peasants, who fold a
letter like an apothecary’s packet, who omit to press
<SPAN name="p143" id="p143"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>143<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the wafer with a seal, or secure it by pricking it in
every part with the point of a pin.</p>
<p>We never seal petitions which are to be presented
to the king, and to the members of the royal family.</p>
<p>Some distinguished persons are flattered in writing
to them, by our omitting to designate precisely
their address. It is an error; we should indicate
with exactness the town, and the province, state,
&c. if there is more than one town of the same
name. In a large city, it is well to write the name
of the street and number, and the quarter of the
city where the street is. People of business, abbreviate
this by putting N and the number, or the number
alone; this practice is more expeditious than
polite.</p>
<p>We generally address a letter to one person only;
but in certain cases we may address to two or more
collectively.</p>
<p>It is well to add to the name, the title or profession,
in order to prevent mistake. However, if circumstances
have obliged any one of your acquaintance
to act in an inferior situation, it would be a
want of delicacy to join to his name that of his business.</p>
<p>When we write to the king, we put simply in the
address, <em>To the King</em>. To foreign kings we say, <em>To
his Catholic Majesty</em>, <em>his Britannic Majesty</em>, &c.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p144" id="p144"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>144<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>To persons who have the title of highness, we say,
<em>To his Highness</em>, and then their quality or rank. To
ministers and ambassadors, we say, <em>To his Excellency,
the Minister</em>, or <em>Ambassador</em>. If a person has many
titles, we select the highest, and omit the others.</p>
<p>In billets, we put the date at the top of the paper,
and begin the letter about two inches below. The
word <em>Sir</em> is put in the first line. We conclude with
one of these phrases, <em>I am, Sir, yours</em>; <em>I am entirely
yours</em>, &c. We do not write a billet to ladies, or to
superiors, as this was introduced only to avoid ceremony.</p>
<p>The most familiar billets are written in the third
person, contrary to the common practice. They
contain very little, and begin thus, <em>Mr.</em> or <em>Madam
N present their respects</em>, or <em>compliments, to Mr. Such-a-one,
and request</em>, &c. After having made the request,
we end with, <em>and he will oblige his humble
servant</em>.</p>
<p>In this kind of billets, it is best not to use the pronoun
<em>he</em> or <em>she</em>, for independently of the incivility, it
might result in confusion. Sometimes it would be
difficult to know whether the pronoun referred to
the person who received the letter, or to the one
who wrote it.</p>
<p>I shall conclude this chapter by an observation
relative to friendly and familiar letters; not that I
<SPAN name="p145" id="p145"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>145<span class="ns">]
</span></span>have the folly to pretend to regulate by any ceremonial,
the sentiments of the heart; but there is in reality
nothing more cold and ridiculous, than accumulations
of epithets like these, <em>Your tender, sincere
and constant friend</em>, &c.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Additional Rules in respect to the Social Relations"><SPAN name="p146" id="p146"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>146<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER VIII.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Additional Rules in respect to the Social Relations.</i></h3>
<p>I include under this name, everything relating to
friendly attentions, such as services, loans, presents,
advice, and also things in relation to discretion, such
as respect in conversation, letters, secrets, confidential
<span class="nw">communications, &c.</span></p>
<h4 title="Of an Obliging Deportment"><SPAN name="p146i" id="p146i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of an Obliging Deportment.</i></h4>
<p>Polite persons are necessarily obliging. A smile
is always on their lips, an earnestness in their countenance,
when we ask a favor of them. They know
that to render a service with a bad grace, is in reality
not to render it. If they are obliged to refuse a
favor, they do this with mildness and delicacy; they
express such feeling regret, that they still inspire us
with gratitude; in short, their conduct appears so
perfectly natural, that it really seems that the opportunity
which is offered them of obliging us, is obliging
themselves; they refuse all our thanks, without
affectation or effort.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p147" id="p147"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>147<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>This amiable character, a necessary attendant of
perfect good breeding, is not always found with all
its charms, in the world. There are besides, some
obliging persons, who force us to extort their services,
who feel of great consequence, who like to be
supplicated and thanked to excess. Do not imitate
them: they make us ungrateful in spite of ourselves,
they make gratitude a pain and a burden. When
one asks of you any favor, reply kindly, “I am at
your service, and shall be very happy to render you
any assistance in my power;” or else, with a sad
manner, lament that there is such an obstacle, &c.
Then examine the means of overcoming the obstacle,
even if you should be assured beforehand that
none exists.</p>
<p>Other persons, pretending to be polite, make protestations
of their services and zeal, without taking
the trouble to abide by their offers when an occasion
is afforded them: so great is their trifling in this respect
that they can be justly compared to those false
heroes who are always talking of fighting, and who
would be put to flight at the sight of a drawn sword.
These indications of zeal are suspicious, when they
are employed every moment and without any reason;
a knowledge of the world teaches us to discern them,
and to give them that degree of confidence which
they merit. Sometimes we can congratulate persons,
<SPAN name="p148" id="p148"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>148<span class="ns">]
</span></span>wish them well, and have the appearance of taking
an interest in the recital which they are making of
their affairs, without really feeling the least interest
for them. We cannot always command our indifference
in this respect, but we are obliged to spare
them that constraint and ennui, which would infallibly
be shown if we should manifest to them the
coldness which they inspire. It belongs to those
persons who know the world, not to confound this
politeness, with the pretended zeal of the Don Quixottes
of the drawing-room, of whom we have spoken
above.</p>
<p>In order that a service may be completed, it is necessary
that it should be done quickly, nothing being
more disobliging than tardiness, and the alternative,
which you place a person in, either of addressing to
you new solicitations, or of suffering by your delay.
Your tardy assistance may perhaps be prejudicial,
for one would suffer a long time before resolving to
importune you anew.</p>
<p>Make use then of despatch. If any circumstances
prevent you from acting, inform the person, apologise,
and promise to make reparation for your neglect.
On his part, the person who is under the obligation
to you, should be careful of using a single
term of reproach and of accosting you with an air of
dissatisfaction.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p149" id="p149"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>149<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>When any one who is visiting you has need of a
shawl, a handkerchief, a hat, offer it with a complaisant
zeal, resist the refusal which is made (and which
propriety does not require) select the best you have,
in short, urge the persons not to be in haste to
return the articles. If it is very bad weather, and
the occasion a proper one, offer an umbrella or your
carriage. These things are returned the next day
by a domestic, who is charged to thank the person
for them. If the articles are linen, they should not
be returned before they are washed.</p>
<p>When a lady has borrowed ornaments of another,
as for instance, jewels, the latter should always offer
to lend her more than are asked for: she ought also
to keep a profound silence about the things which
she has lent, and even abstain from wearing them
for some time afterwards, in order that they may not
be recognised. If any one, perceiving they were
borrowed, should speak to the person of it, he would
pass for an ill-bred man. If the borrower speaks to
you of it, it is well to reply that nobody had recognised
them. All this advice is minute, but what
kind will you have? it concerns female self-esteem.</p>
<p>One species of borrowing which is of daily occurrence,
and happens very often to the loss of the owners,
is the borrowing of books. Persons are so wanting
in delicacy on this subject, that those who have
<SPAN name="p150" id="p150"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>150<span class="ns">]
</span></span>a passion for books, and who are very obliging in
other respects, are forced to refuse making these
troublesome loans. The case, however, is a very
perplexing one; we cannot say, <em>I am not willing to
lend you this work</em>; but if the borrower is a suspicious
person, we can say we have occasion to use it, that
we regret it very much, but that we will lend it to
him in a few days. However, we do not lend it at
all.</p>
<p>Well-bred persons do not make a bare request
for a book; they wait until it is offered, and then
they accept the offer hesitatingly; they find out the
length of time they can keep it, and return it punctually
at the appointed day. In order to prevent
every accident, they cover it with cloth or paper,
since the favor should render them more careful than
the value of the book; they also take care not to
turn down the leaves, or make marks, marginal
<span class="nw">notes, &c.</span></p>
<p>If any accident happens to a borrowed article, we
must repair the loss immediately. I shall not speak
of more important loans, which are out of the range
of politeness.</p>
<h4 title="Of Presents"><SPAN name="p151" id="p151"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>151<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Presents.</i></h4>
<p>In the eyes of persons of delicacy, presents are
not of worth, except from the manner in which they
are bestowed; in our advice, then, let us strive to
give them this value.</p>
<p>Presents are offered first to relations and to friends;
and they occur under different circumstances; on
our arrival at a place from which we have been absent
for a long time; when our intimate friends
leave the town in which we reside; on our return
from a journey, particularly to the capital; in remarkable
and remote countries; on birth days, or
days of baptism, or new year’s day.</p>
<p>But this day is not the only occasion of exchanging
presents in a family, it is also an occasion
for recollecting services and civilities; of making
our respects to ladies, to superiors whom we wish to
honor. It moreover offers us a delicate means of
succoring the unfortunate.</p>
<p>Secondly, at harvest time, if one owns land, in the
hunting season, if one is a hunter, it is in good <i lang="fr">ton</i>
<SPAN name="p152" id="p152"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>152<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to send to our intimate friends, fine fruits, rare flowers,
or some choice articles of game.</p>
<p>The most delicate presents are the productions of
our own industry; a drawing, a piece of needle
work, ornamental hair-work, &c. But such offerings,
though invaluable among friends, are not used
on occasions of ceremony.</p>
<p>Next to fitness of time for presents, comes fitness
in the selection of them; generally, luxury and elegance
ought to reign in the latter; but this rule has
numerous exceptions: and although it would be out
of place to offer things purely useful (to which certain
incidents would give the appearance of charity)
still we should be in an error to suppose that a present
is suitable, which is brilliant alone. It must by
all means be adapted to the taste, age, and professions
of persons, and their connexions with us.
Thus to superiors, you offer fruits, game, &c. to a
student, books;<sup><SPAN name="fna17" id="fna17" href="#fn17">17</SPAN></sup> to a friend of the arts, music, or
engravings; to young married ladies, delicate and
graceful articles of the <span class="nw">toilet, &c.</span></p>
<p>Presents should excite surprise and pleasure, therefore
you ought to involve them in a mystery, and
present them with an air of joyful kindness.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p153" id="p153"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>153<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>When you have made your offering, and thanks
have been elicited, do not bring back the conversation
to the same subject; be careful, particularly, of
making your gift of consequence. On the contrary,
when its merit has been extolled, when the persons
who have received the present, have evinced a lively
satisfaction, say that the gift receives all its value
from their opinion of it.</p>
<p>However slight charm a present may have, or if
even insignificant, we should be ill-bred not to manifest
much pleasure in receiving it. It is besides,
necessary, when an opportunity offers, to speak of it,
not to fail of saying to the donor, how useful or
agreeable his present is to you. In proportion as a
long space of time has elapsed, this attention is the
more amiable; it proves that you have preserved the
object with care. And this reminds me, that we
should never give away a present which we have received
from another person, or at least that we
should so arrange it, that it may never be known.</p>
<p>It is well to mingle with our manifestations of
gratitude, some exceptions to the high value of the
gift, but not to dwell a long time on the subject, or
to exclaim about it with earnestness. Under some
circumstances, these declamations may seem dictated
by avarice and a want of delicacy; they are besides
in bad taste at all times.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p154" id="p154"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>154<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>We often make a present to some one through his
children or wife, especially on new year’s day, when
it is the custom to present at least confectionary to
the young families of one’s acquaintance. At Paris,
we make such presents to married ladies; in the
provincial towns, we do not. Above all, when one
has received a present of some value, he calls upon
the person who gave it, or, if the distance is great,
addresses to him a letter of thanks. Every one
knows that custom requires us to make a remuneration
of a proportionate value, to the domestic who is
the bearer of the present.</p>
<h4 title="Of Advice">SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Advice.</i></h4>
<p>Advice is a very good thing, it is true; it is however
a thing which in society is the most displeasing.
A giver of advice, who is incessantly repeating, <em>If I
was in your place, I should do so and so</em>, repels every
one by his pride and indiscretion. Such an impertinent
person should know, that he ought not to give
advice without he is asked, and that the number of
those who ask it is very limited: we are not, however,
speaking here of gratifications of vanity, but of
that advice, the kindness and affection of which,
gives it a claim to our attention. It is necessary to
<SPAN name="p155" id="p155"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>155<span class="ns">]
</span></span>use much reserve and care, because otherwise you
would seem to have a tone of superiority which
would array the self-esteem of your friend against
your wisest counsels. Of the forms of modesty, no
one in this place is superfluous: we may say, “It is
possible that I am mistaken, I should be far from
having the courage to enquire of <span class="nw">you,” &c.</span></p>
<p>If a person makes any objections, do not say, <em>You
do not understand me</em>, but, <em>I have not expressed myself
properly</em>.</p>
<h4 title="Of Discretion">SECTION IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Discretion.</i></h4>
<p>The duties of discretion are so sensibly felt by
persons of good breeding, that they do not violate
them except through forgetfulness. It will be
enough then to make an enumeration of them, without
intending to point out their necessity.</p>
<p>Discretion requires in the first place, respect with
regard to conversation. If, when we enter the house
of any one, we hear persons talking in an earnest
manner, we step more heavily, in order to give notice
to those who are engaged in the conversation.
If, in an assembly, two persons retire by themselves
to speak of business, we should be careful not to
<SPAN name="p156" id="p156"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>156<span class="ns">]
</span></span>approach them, nor speak to them until they have separated.</p>
<p>People who have lived a little in the world, know
how essential it is not to mingle with curiosity in
the business of persons whom we visit; nor are
they ignorant what conduct is to be observed in case
we surprise persons by an unexpected call; but
young persons may not know, and I beg them to
give their attention to it.</p>
<p>When we see a person occupied, we retire, or at
least make signs of it; if they should detain us, we
step aside, and appear to be examining a picture, or
looking out of the window, in order to prove that
we take no notice of what engages them. But the
desire to find for ourselves some such occupation,
ought not to lead us to turn over the leaves of books
placed upon the chimney-piece or elsewhere; to run
over a pamphlet; or to handle visiting cards, or letters,
even though it be only to read the superscription.
If the person visited should be opening a closet
or drawers, it would be rude curiosity to approach
in order to see what was contained there. If, among
a number of valuable things, they take one to show
you, be satisfied with looking at that alone, without
appearing to think of the others.</p>
<p>If, before the person visited comes in, we should
see another visitor, who, to pass the time, should
<SPAN name="p157" id="p157"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>157<span class="ns">]
</span></span>take a journal or a book from his pocket, it would be
extremely impolite to read over his shoulder, and
equally uncivil to read what a person is writing.</p>
<p>It is not allowable to take down the books from a
library; but we may, and we even ought to read the
titles, in order to praise the good taste which has
been shown in the choice of the works.</p>
<p>If it happens that any one exhibits to a circle some
rare and valuable object, do not be in haste to ask
for it, or to take it by reaching out your hand; wait
modestly until it comes to you; do not examine it
too long when you have it, and if by chance any ill-bred
person requests it before you have seen it, do
not detain it; it is better to suffer this small privation
than to pass for a badly educated virtuoso.</p>
<p>However insignificant the boasted object may be,
never criticise it; if your opinion is asked, answer a
few words of praise; if the thing is really curious,
abstain from exaggerated compliments.</p>
<p>To violate the secresy of letters, under any pretext
whatever, is so base and odious, that I dare not
say a word about it; I think, I ought to say, that it
is also very reprehensible to endeavor to read any
part of a letter folded in such a manner as to be partly
open at the ends; and when a certain passage in
a letter concerning yourself is handed you to read,
you should put your finger below it in order not to
<SPAN name="p158" id="p158"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>158<span class="ns">]
</span></span>read anything more; and if you are allowed to add
anything in a letter, have the discretion not to cast
your eyes over the rest, and be expeditious so as to
avoid the suspicion that you take advantage of the
circumstance.</p>
<p>Politeness is also opposed, in certain cases, to a
too great haste to know anything relating to ourselves.
For example, if a person brings you a letter,
you should not be in a hurry to open it, but see
whether the letter concerns the bearer at all, or only
yourself. In the first case, you should open it, and
read it while he is present; in the other case, you
should lay it aside.</p>
<p>Politeness does not, however, impose such restraints
upon curiosity in small things, and leave us
free in important ones. Thus, we shall not say that
we ought religiously to keep a secret, and that confidence
received is a sacred deposit; but we shall say
to persons who have curiosity to know any private
circumstance, that they ought to be filled with shame
if they do not desist all importunity as soon as they
hear the word, <em>it is a secret</em>.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Travelling"><SPAN name="p159" id="p159"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>159<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER IX.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Travelling.</i></h3>
<p>This chapter, although only accessory, and but remotely
connected with the social relations, should
be added here; as we do not wish to make any voluntary
omission, and, besides, if in travelling, the
duties of politeness are less numerous, they are not,
therefore, less obligatory.</p>
<p>Persons about to travel, ought to make visits of
taking leave among their acquaintances, of whom
they should ask if they have any commands for
them. It would be indiscreet, unless in case of perfect
intimacy, to accept this offer, or to ask them to
take charge of such or such a thing, especially if it
is a packet; if persons are very intimate, we may
request them to let us hear of their arrival.</p>
<p>Before their departure, the names of passengers
are entered in the order of their numbers, at the public
coach offices. After this, each one takes the
place assigned him. Politeness, however, requires
that a man should offer his seat to a lady who is less
well accommodated; for it would be improper that
<SPAN name="p160" id="p160"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>160<span class="ns">]
</span></span>he should be seated upon the back seat, while she
should be seated upon the front one. Some persons
cannot bear the motion of a coach when they ride
backwards; and this manner of riding incommodes
them extremely. Polite travellers will take pleasure
in relieving them from this trouble. Ladies, on
their part, ought not to require too much, nor put to
too severe a test the complaisance of gentlemen.
The latter, however, should at every stopping place,
attentively help them alight, by offering the hand,
and directing their feet on the step of the coach.
The same thing is necessary in assisting them to get
in again. It would appear badly, to take advantage
of one’s superiority of rank, to consult his own convenience
alone. It is necessary on the contrary, for
him to have great care not to incommode any one,
and to show every civility to his fellow travellers.</p>
<p>Politeness in travelling is not so rigorous as in society;
it only requires that we should not incommode
our companions; that we should be agreeable
to them; that we should politely answer their questions;
but it leaves us free to read, sleep, look about,
or observe <span class="nw">silence, &c.</span></p>
<p>A traveller would be uncivil if he should open or
shut the windows of the coach without consulting
the people who are with him; or, if he should, without
offering to them, take any light and delicate food,
<SPAN name="p161" id="p161"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>161<span class="ns">]
</span></span>as fruits, cakes, or confectionary, but which they do
not generally accept; and he would appear disagreeable,
if, knowing the route, he should not point out
the beautiful sites, and satisfy any questions concerning
them; finally, he would deserve the name
of an imprudent prater, if he should converse with
his fellow travellers as with intimate acquaintances.</p>
<p>On our return, we should carry or send the commissions
which we have received. Partial acquaintances,
to whom we have offered only by writing, to
take their commands, should not expect a visit on
our return; this right belongs only to relations,
friends, or intimate acquaintances.</p>
<p>Finally, all those for whom you have executed any
commissions, owe you a visit of thanks as soon as it
can be done.</p>
<p>If you travel on horseback, in distinguished company,
give them the right, and keep a little behind,
regulating yourself by the progress of your companions.
There is one exception to this rule; it is when
one of the two horses is skittish, so that it is absolutely
necessary that the other should pass on first,
that this one may follow.</p>
<p>If you happen to be on the windward side, so that
you throw dust upon your companion, you should
change your position. When we pass by trees, the
<SPAN name="p162" id="p162"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>162<span class="ns">]
</span></span>branches of which are about the height of the shoulders,
the one who goes first ought to take care that
the branches, in going back to their former situation,
should not strike with violence against the person
who follows.</p>
<p>If you are passing a large stream, a small river, or
a muddy pool, by fording, it is polite to go first; but
if we have not taken precautions, and fall in the
rear, we ought to keep at a distance, so that the
horse’s feet may not spatter the water or mud upon
the gentleman before us. If your companion gallops
his horse, you should never pass him, nor make your
horse caper, unless he signifies that it is agreeable to
him.</p>
</div>
<div class="chunk">
<h2 title="PART III: OF PROPRIETY IN RELATION TO PLEASURES"><SPAN name="p163" id="p163"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>163<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>PART III.<br/><br/><span class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY IN RELATION TO PLEASURES.</span></h2>
<h3 title="Of Entertainments">CHAPTER I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Entertainments.</i></h3>
<p>Politeness ought, as we have seen, to direct and
embellish all the circumstances of life; but it is, if
possible, still more necessary in relation to pleasures,
which, without it, would have no attraction.</p>
<p>Without intending to adopt the epigrammatic style,
I will say that dining is almost an event, so many
points of propriety have the master of the house and
his guests to observe.</p>
<p>When we intend giving an entertainment, we
begin by selecting such guests as may enjoy themselves
together, or at least tolerate one another. If
it is to be composed of gentlemen, there should be
no lady present, except the lady of the house. The
dinner being determined upon, we give out two or
three days beforehand, verbal or written invitations.<!-- TN: period invisible in original -->
During the carnival or other season of gaiety, it is
<SPAN name="p164" id="p164"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>164<span class="ns">]
</span></span>necessary to do it at least five days in advance, on
account of the numerous engagements.</p>
<p>When we receive a written invitation, we must
answer immediately whether we accept or not, although
silence may be considered equivalent to an
acceptance. In the latter case, we should give a
plausible reason of our declining, and do it with politeness.
When the invitation is verbal, we must
avoid being urged; for nothing is more foolish and
disobliging; we ought either to accept or refuse in
a frank and friendly manner, offering some reasonable
motive for declining, to which we should not
again refer. It is not allowable to be urged, except
when we are requested to dine with someone whom
we have seen only at the house of a third person, or
when we are invited on a visit or other similar occasion.
In the former case, if we accept, we should
first leave a card in order to open the acquaintance.</p>
<p>Having once accepted, we cannot break our engagement,
unless for a most urgent cause.</p>
<p>An invitation ought to specify exactly the hour
of meeting, and you should arrive precisely at that
hour. The table should be ready, and the mistress
of the house in the drawing-room, to receive the
guests. When they are all assembled, a domestic
announces that the dinner is served up; at this signal
we rise immediately, and wait until the master
<SPAN name="p165" id="p165"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>165<span class="ns">]
</span></span>of the house requests us to pass into the dining-room,
whither he conducts us, by going before.</p>
<p>It is quite common for the lady of the house to act
as guide, while he offers his hand to the lady of most
distinction. The guests also give their arms to ladies,
whom they conduct as far as the table, and to
the place which they are to occupy. Take care, if
you are not the principal guest, not to offer your
hand to the handsomest or most distinguished lady;
for it is a great impoliteness.</p>
<p>Having arrived at the table, each guest respectfully
salutes the lady whom he conducts, and who in
turn bows also. It is one of the first and most difficult
things properly to arrange the guests, and to
place them in such a manner that the conversation
may always be general during the entertainment;
we should as much as possible avoid putting next
one another, two persons of the same profession; for
it would necessarily result in an <em>aside</em> conversation,
which would injure the general conversation, and
consequently the gaiety of the occasion. The two
most distinguished gentlemen are placed next the
mistress of the house; the two most distinguished
ladies next the master of the house; the right hand
is especially the place of honor. If the number of
gentlemen is nearly equal to that of the ladies, we
should take care to intermingle them; we should
<SPAN name="p166" id="p166"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>166<span class="ns">]
</span></span>separate husbands from their wives, and remove near
relations as far from one another as possible, because
being always together, they ought not to converse
among themselves in a general party.</p>
<p>The younger guests, or those of less distinction,
are placed at the lower end of the table.</p>
<p>In order to be able to watch the course of the dinner,
and to see that nothing is wanting to their
guests, the master and mistress of the house usually
seat themselves in the centre of the table, opposite
each other. As soon as the guests are seated, the
lady of the house serves in plates, from a pile at her
left hand, the soup which she sends round, beginning
with her neighbors at the right and left, and
continuing in the order of their distinction. These
first plates usually pass twice, for every one endeavors
to make his neighbor accept whatever is sent
him.</p>
<p>The master of the house carves or causes to be
carved by some expert guests, the large pieces, in
order afterwards to do the honors himself. If you
have no skill in carving meats, you should not attempt
it; and never discharge this duty except when
your good offices are solicited by him; neither can
we refuse from his hand anything sent us.</p>
<p>A master of a house ought never to pride himself
upon what appears on his table, nor confuse himself
<SPAN name="p167" id="p167"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>167<span class="ns">]
</span></span>with apologies for the bad cheer which he offers
you; it is much better for him to observe silence in
this respect, and leave it to his guests to pronounce
eulogiums on the dinner; neither is it in good <i lang="fr">ton</i>
to urge guests to eat nor to load their plate against
their will.</p>
<p>I will now give a few words of advice to guests;
puerile it may be, but which it is well to listen to,
and observe. It is ridiculous to make a display of
your napkin; to attach it with pins upon your
bosom, or to pass it through your buttonhole; to use
a fork in eating soup; to ask for <em>meat</em> instead of <em>beef</em>;
for <em>poultry</em> instead of saying chicken, or turkey; to
turn up your cuffs while carving; to take bread,
even when it is within your reach, instead of calling
upon the servant; to cut with a knife your bread,
which should be broken by your hand; and to pour
your coffee into the saucer to cool.</p>
<p>Guests of the house of a distinguished personage
are accompanied each by his own servant, who takes
his place behind his chair. They should not address
him during the entertainment, still less reprimand
him. Before placing themselves at the table,
they ought to direct him to serve the other guests
also, and to retire as soon as the table is cleared, because
the domestics of the house ought to eat by
themselves.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p168" id="p168"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>168<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>During the first course, each one helps himself at
his pleasure to whatever he drinks; but, in the second
course, when the master of the house passes
round choice wine, it would be uncivil to refuse it.
We are not obliged, however, to accept a second
glass.</p>
<p>When at the end of the second course, the cloth
is removed, the guests may assist in turning off
that part of it which is before them, and contribute
to the arrangement of the dessert plates which happen
to be near, but without attempting to alter the
disposition of them. From the time that the dessert
appears on the table, the duties of the master of the
house diminish, as do also his rights.</p>
<p>If a gentleman is seated by the side of a lady or
elderly person, politeness requires him to save them
all trouble of pouring out for themselves to drink, of
procuring anything to eat, and of obtaining whatever
they are in want of at the table. He ought to be
eager to offer them what he thinks to be most to
their taste.</p>
<p>It would be impolite to monopolize a conversation
which ought to be general. If the company is large,
we should converse with our neighbors, raising the
voice only enough to make ourselves understood.</p>
<p>Custom allows ladies at the end of an entertainment
to dip their fingers into a glass of water, and
<SPAN name="p169" id="p169"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>169<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to wipe them with their napkin; it allows them also
to rinse the mouth, using their plate for this purpose;
but, in my opinion, custom sanctions it in vain.</p>
<p>It is for the mistress of the house to give the signal
to leave the table; all the guests then rise, and,
offering their arms to the ladies, wait upon them to
the drawing-room, where coffee and <i lang="fr">liqueurs</i> are
prepared. We do not take coffee at the table, except
at unceremonious dinners. In leaving the table,
the master of the house ought to go last. Politeness
requires us to remain at least an hour in the
drawing-room after dinner; and, if we can dispose
of an entire evening, it would be well to devote it to
the person who has entertained us.</p>
<p>We should not leave the table before the end of
the entertainment, unless from urgent necessity. If
it is a married lady, she requests some one to accompany
her; if a young lady, she goes with her
mother.</p>
<p>The question whether it is proper, or not, to sing
at table, depends now upon the <i lang="fr">ton</i> of the master of
the house. We do not sing at the houses of people
of fashion and the high classes of society; but we
may do it at the social tables of citizens. In this
case, we may repeat what has been said and proved
a thousand times how ridiculous it is to be urged
when we know how to sing, or to insist upon
<SPAN name="p170" id="p170"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>170<span class="ns">]
</span></span>hearing a person sing who has an invincible
timidity.</p>
<p>After dinner, we converse, have music, or more
frequently, prepare the tables for games. In the
course of the soirée, the mistress of the house sends
round upon a waiter <i lang="fr">eau sucrée</i> or refreshing syrups.
During the week which follows the entertainment,
each guest owes a visit to the person who has invited
them. We usually converse at this time, of the
dinner, of the pleasure we have enjoyed, and of the
persons whom we met there. This visit has received
the cant name of the <i lang="fr">visite de digestion</i>.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Promenades, Parties, and Amusements"><SPAN name="p171" id="p171"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>171<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Promenades, Parties, and Amusements.</i></h3>
<p>The paragraphs contained in this chapter concern
the most common relations of society. Complaisance
and attentions ought therefore to embellish
and adorn these relations with all the delicate shades
of politeness.</p>
<h4 title="Of Promenades"><SPAN name="p171i" id="p171i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Promenades.</i></h4>
<p>A young man who walks with an elderly person,
undoubtedly knows that his companion has not the
same strength and agility as himself; he ought therefore
to regulate his pace by that of the old person.
The same precaution should be observed when we
accompany a person of distinction to whom we owe
respect. Decorum requires that a gentleman should
offer his arm to a lady who walks with him; and
politeness requires him to ask permission to carry
anything which she may have in her hand, as a bag,
a book, or a parasol (if the sun does not shine;) in
case of a refusal, he ought to insist upon it.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p172" id="p172"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>172<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>If there are more ladies than gentlemen, we should
offer our arm to the oldest, and to a married lady
rather than to an unmarried one. If we are accompanied
by two ladies, we cannot dispense with offering
our arm to each of them.</p>
<p>Place your company upon that side which seems
to them most convenient, and beware of opposing
their tastes or desires. When occasion presents itself,
offer seats to your companions to rest themselves,
and do not urge them to rise until they manifest
a wish to continue their walk. If they accept
your invitation to sit down, and it happens that there
are not a sufficient number of seats, then the ladies
should sit, and the gentlemen remain standing.</p>
<p>In a large public garden, chairs are seldom wanting;
if it is necessary to go for some to the place
where they are kept, this is the business of the gentlemen,
who ought to take care not to place them
before persons already seated, for this would be an
incivility. When payment for the seats is called
for, one gentleman of the company pays for the
whole. It would be impolite to offer to reimburse
him.</p>
<p>There is also a rule of politeness to be observed
with regard to those whom we meet in walking.
We ought to offend neither their eyes nor their ears.
We must take care not to attract their attention by
<SPAN name="p173" id="p173"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>173<span class="ns">]
</span></span>immoderate laughter, nor allow ourselves liberties
which we cannot take in a private garden. To sing
and skip about in walking, would expose us to the
hootings of the multitude, and to unpleasant things
for which we could only accuse our own folly.</p>
<p>If you are in a public promenade, converse upon
general topics, which can offend no one, in order
that your remarks may not be wrongly interpreted
by persons who happen to hear them. Beware on
the other hand, of listening to the conversation of
those who are not of your party.</p>
<p>If you give your arm to a lady in the street, she
ought to be next the wall. And if by chance, you
are obliged to cross over, you should then change
the arm. This deference is likewise due to all
who are entitled to our respect. Two gentlemen
do not take one another’s arms in the street, unless
they are young persons and intimate friends.</p>
<p>We never go in advance of the lady whom we
accompany, and if she stops, we do so likewise, and
remain with her in looking at whatever attracts her
attention. If a mendicant comes up to ask alms,
we immediately draw out our purse to satisfy his
wants, so that the lady with whom we are walking
may not be importuned by him.</p>
<p>If we walk in a private garden, and the company
is numerous, we may separate, and form distinct
<SPAN name="p174" id="p174"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>174<span class="ns">]
</span></span>groups. If the master of the house or any person
of consideration, invite you to walk up and down
the alleys, take care to give them the right, it being
the most honorable side. At the end of each alley,
and when you must retrace your steps, turn inside
towards the other person, and not outward, as you
would thus present your back to him. If you happen
to be with two persons who are your superiors,
do not place yourself in the middle, for that is the
place of honor; the right, is the second, and the left
the third place.</p>
<p>Be careful also of the choice of places if you take
an airing in a coach, and yield the first seats to ladies
and distinguished persons. The one of most
consequence gets in first, and places himself at the
right of the back seat; the left of the same seat is
occupied next; then, the third person seats himself
on the front seat, facing the one in the first place;
the fourth person takes the remaining seat, facing
the one in the second place. If there is no servant,
it is proper for the gentlemen to open the door, arrange
the <span class="nw">packets, &c.</span></p>
<p>In a cabriolet or chaise, the right side is for the
one who drives when there are only two persons.
If there are three, the driver sits in the middle, even
although he may be very inferior to his companions.
I may add, that it is not customary for a lady to go
<SPAN name="p175" id="p175"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>175<span class="ns">]
</span></span>alone in a hired cabriolet, since she would then be
in the company of the driver only.</p>
<h4 title="Of Parties and Amusements">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Parties and Amusements.</i></h4>
<p>We shall have but few things to say upon the
manner of conducting one’s-self in a party, for we
should only repeat the advice we have already
given as respects propriety in the carriage of the
person, in visits, and in conversation.</p>
<p>If a gentleman enters a drawing-room where
there are more than ten persons, he should salute
all generally, by a very respectful inclination of the
head, and present his respects first to the lady of the
house, but converse at first only with her husband;
gentlemen usually stand in groups, while the ladies
sitting, answer the salutation by a similar one; we
should remark that the ladies do not rise, except in
saluting one of their own sex.</p>
<p>However distinguished a person may be, we do
not allow conversation to be disturbed by their coming.
They listen for a few moments while observing
what persons are present, then mingle in the
conversation, without pretending at all to monopolize
it. When conversation is not general, nor the
subject sufficiently interesting to occupy the whole
<SPAN name="p176" id="p176"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>176<span class="ns">]
</span></span>company, they break up into different groups.
Each one converses with one or more of his neighbors
on his right and left. We should, if we wish
to speak to any one, avoid leaning upon the person
who happens to be between. A gentleman ought
not to lean upon the arm of a lady’s chair, but he
may, while standing, support himself by the back of
it, in order to converse with the lady half turned towards
him.</p>
<p>It would be extremely impolite to converse in a
loud voice with any one upon private subjects, to
make use of allegories and particular allusions which
are understood only by the person with whom you
are conversing and yourself. It would be equally
out of place to converse in a foreign language, with
any one who might be able to speak it.</p>
<p>It is not proper to withdraw in the midst of any
conversation, but to wait until the subject in which
you are engaged shall be finished; you then salute
only the person with whom you have been talking,
and depart without taking leave of any one, not
even the gentleman and lady of the house.</p>
<p>The mind has need of recreations; it cannot be
always occupied. Hence the custom of passing a
few moments in those family and social parties,
where we take part in the various amusements and
<SPAN name="p177" id="p177"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>177<span class="ns">]
</span></span>games which have been invented to relax and divert
the mind.</p>
<p>It is useless to observe here that we do not mean
to speak of those scandalous establishments in which
are frequently swallowed up the resources of families,
and where a person, led by an unhappy passion,
may consume in one evening, enough to furnish an
annual support for fifty orphans; we design to speak
only of those innocent games, in which we are ambitious
only of the glory of a triumph. To propose
to play a deep game would be to expose ourselves
to contempt. For, those who composed the assembly,
would imagine that he who makes this request,
has no other object in view but to enrich himself
at the expense of others, and that he is accustomed
to frequent those abominable houses of which
we have just spoken.</p>
<p>We should have a bad opinion of a player who,
when he gained, should show excessive joy, and if
he lost, should betray the least chagrin; for he
ought to remember that it is only for amusement
that he plays.</p>
<p>Conduct yourself without letting escape the least
word of dissatisfaction, and be pleasant even if you
are unfortunate.</p>
<p>When you leave off playing, converse with your
adversary, and not seem to avoid him, but especially
<SPAN name="p178" id="p178"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>178<span class="ns">]
</span></span>never speak to him of his good luck in playing,
unless it be with a frank gaiety, for otherwise you
would seem to be inspired with anger.</p>
<p>Play with fairness, and do not endeavor to see the
hand of your adversary in order to profit by it; pay
attention to your game, and not hold conversation
with others. This inattention would render you
necessarily insupportable to those who play with
you.</p>
<p>If any play is contested, we should not discuss
it with warmth, but refer to disinterested persons,
explaining to them with calmness and politeness the
point in dispute.</p>
<p>In playing, we must always preserve an even
temper; neither should we devote too much time
to it, for then this amusement would become irksome,
and would soon be changed to a fatiguing occupation.</p>
<p>When the mistress of the house has prepared the
tables for playing, she takes as many cards as each
game requires players, and presents them to the
persons present, beginning with the one whom she
wishes especially to honor. To accept a card, is
considered an engagement to play. The distribution
of the players requires all the attention of the mistress
of the house, for there are some persons not
to be desired for partners. There are, besides, bad
<SPAN name="p179" id="p179"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>179<span class="ns">]
</span></span>players, persons who being little accustomed to playing,
stop a long time to think, bite their lips, strike
their feet together under the table, drum upon the
table with their fingers; pretend that such a person
being near brings them bad luck, and request out of
their turn to shuffle the cards, in order to change
the <span class="nw">luck, &c.</span></p>
<p>The mistress of the house experiences, besides
the embarrassment of arranging these unlucky players,
sufficient trouble in keeping from the same
table, those who have any antipathy to one another.</p>
<p>When we commence playing, we salute, by an
inclination of the head, the persons with whom we
play, as we deal to them the first card. Gentlemen
should collect the cards at the end of each hand,
shuffle, and present them to the lady who is to deal.</p>
<p>We may, without impropriety, ask of any one if
he plays such a game, even if he plays well; and
we may ask those invited to play, whom they desire
as partners. The most honorable set, namely,
that in which the mistress of the house plays, can
never be refused, unless we are unacquainted with
playing.</p>
<h4 title="Little Sports and Games of Society"><SPAN name="p180" id="p180"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>180<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Little Sports and Games of Society.</i></h4>
<p>Those sports, called innocent, generally please
young persons of both sexes, because they excite an
interest, while they require an exercise of the memory
and of the mind. It is necessary, however, in this,
as in everything else, to manifest attention, delicacy,
and propriety. We ought not to endeavor to be
noticed for our too great vivacity or freedom. We
should be satisfied with showing our talent at playing
in our turn, and taking part in the common gaiety,
without pretension or too great zeal. We
should especially avoid throwing out any vindictive
remarks, bestowing misplaced compliments, or imposing
forfeits which would cause mortification.</p>
<p>A young gentleman ought never to seize a young
lady by the body, catch hold of her ribband or bouquet,
nor pay exclusive attention to the same person.
He should be agreeable and pleasant towards
all.</p>
<p>The selection of different games belongs to the
ladies. The person who receives the company,
should be careful to vary them; and when she
<SPAN name="p181" id="p181"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>181<span class="ns">]
</span></span>perceives that any game loses its interest, she should
propose another.</p>
<p>There are almost always persons in society who
wish to take the lead, and give the <i lang="fr">ton</i>; it is a caprice
or fault which should be avoided. We may
modestly propose any amusement, and ask the opinion
of others in regard to it; but never pretend to
dictate, nor even urge having our own proposal accepted.
If it does not please generally, we should
be silent, and resign ourselves with a good grace to
the decisions of the majority.</p>
<p>In these little sports, the penalties which are imposed,
too often consist in embracing the ladies of
the company; but as they cannot refuse, since you
follow the rule of the game, take care to do it with
such propriety, that modesty may not be offended.</p>
<p>Never prescribe any forfeiture which can wound
the feelings of any one of the company.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Balls, Concerts, and Public Shows"><SPAN name="p182" id="p182"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>182<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Balls, Concerts, and Public Shows.</i></h3>
<p>These amusements presuppose a fortune, and
good <i lang="fr">ton</i>; the practice of society, therefore, and consequently
a forgetfulness of the precepts of politeness
in respect to them, would be truly preposterous.</p>
<h4 title="Of Balls"><SPAN name="p182i" id="p182i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Balls.</i></h4>
<p>I was going to say, let us begin with private balls;
but I recollect that this denomination is no longer
fashionable. We do not say, <em>a ball at Madam such
a one’s</em>, but an evening party (<i lang="fr">soirée</i>). Nevertheless,
when we wish to give a dance, we give the
invitations a week beforehand, that the ladies may
have time to prepare articles for their toilet.</p>
<p>If it is to be a simple evening party, in which we
may wear a summer walking dress, the mistress of
the house gives verbal invitations and does not omit
to apprise her friends of this circumstance, or they
<SPAN name="p183" id="p183"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>183<span class="ns">]
</span></span>might appear in unsuitable dresses. If, on the contrary,
the soirée<!-- TN: original reads "soiree" --> is to be in reality a ball, the invitations
are written, or what is better, printed, and expressed
in the third person.</p>
<p>A room appropriated for dresses, and furnished
with cloak pins to hang up the shawls and other
garments of the ladies, is almost indispensable.
Domestics should be there also to aid them in taking
off and putting on their outside garments.</p>
<p>We are not obliged to go exactly at the appointed
hour; it is even fashionable to go an hour later.
Married ladies are accompanied by their husbands,
unmarried ones, by their mother or by a <i lang="fr">chaperon</i>.
These last ladies place themselves behind the dancers;
the master of the house goes before one and
another, procures seats for them, and then mingles
again among the gentlemen who are standing, and
who form groups or walk about the room.</p>
<p>The toilet of all the assembly should be made with
great care. A gentleman who should appear in a
riding-coat and boots, would pass for a person of bad
<i lang="fr">ton</i>.</p>
<p>When you are sure of a place in the dance, you
go up to a lady, and ask her if she will <em>do you the
honor</em> to dance with you. If she answers that she
is engaged, invite her for the next dance, and take
care not to address yourself afterwards to any ladies
<SPAN name="p184" id="p184"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>184<span class="ns">]
</span></span>next to her, for these not being able to refuse you,
would feel hurt at being invited after another.
Never wait until the signal is given to take a partner,
for nothing is more impolite than to invite a
lady hastily, and when the dancers are already in
their places; it can be allowed only when the set is
incomplete.</p>
<p>A lady cannot refuse the invitation of a gentleman
to dance, unless she has already accepted that of
another, for she would be guilty of an incivility
which might occasion trouble; she would besides
seem to show contempt for him whom she refused,
and would expose herself to receive an ill compliment
from him.</p>
<p>Married or young ladies cannot leave a ball-room
or any other party alone. The former should be accompanied
by one or two other married ladies, and
the latter by their mother, or by a lady to represent
her.</p>
<p>We should avoid talking too much; it would occasion
remarks and have a bad appearance to whisper
continually in the ear of our partner.</p>
<p>The master of the house should see that all the
ladies dance; he should take notice of those who
seem to serve as <em>drapery</em> to the walls of the ball-room,
or <em>wall-flowers</em>, as the familiar expression is,
and should see that they are invited to dance. He
<SPAN name="p185" id="p185"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>185<span class="ns">]
</span></span>must do this wholly unperceived, in order not to
wound the self-esteem of the unfortunate ladies.</p>
<p>Gentlemen whom the master of the house requests
to dance with these ladies, should be ready to accede
to his wish, and even appear pleased at dancing
with a person thus recommended to their notice.</p>
<p>Ladies who dance much, ought to be very careful
not to boast before those who dance but little or not
at all, of the great number of dances for which they
are engaged in advance. They should also, without
being perceived, recommend to these less fortunate
ladies, gentlemen of their acquaintance.</p>
<p>In giving the hand for ladies’ chain or any figures,
those dancing should wear a smile, and accompany
it with a polite inclination of the head, in the manner
of a salutation. At the end of the dance, the
gentleman re-conducts the lady to her place, bows
and thanks her for the honor which she has conferred.
She also curtsies in silence, smiling with a
gracious air.</p>
<p>In these assemblies, we ought to conduct ourselves
with reserve and politeness towards all present,
although they may be unknown to us.</p>
<p>Persons who have no ear for music, that is to say,
a false one, ought to refrain from dancing.</p>
<p>Never hazard taking part in a quadrille unless
you know how to dance tolerably. If you are a
<SPAN name="p186" id="p186"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>186<span class="ns">]
</span></span>novice or but little skilled, you would bring disorder
into the midst of pleasure. Being once engaged
to take part in the dance, if the figures are not familiar,
be careful not to advance first. You can in
this way govern your steps by those who go before
you. Beware also of taking your place in a set of
dancers more skilful than yourself.</p>
<p>When an unpractised dancer makes a mistake,
we may apprise him of his error; but it would be
very impolite to have the air of giving him a lesson.</p>
<p>Dance with grace and modesty; neither affect to
make a parade of your knowledge; refrain from
great leaps and ridiculous jumps which would attract
the attention of all towards you.</p>
<p>In a private ball or party, it is proper to show still
more reserve, and not to manifest more preference
for one lady than another; we should dance with
all indiscriminately, but we may, moreover, invite
the same lady more than once.</p>
<p>In public balls, a gentleman offers his partner refreshments,
which she very seldom accepts, unless
she is much acquainted with him. But in private
parties, the persons who receive the company, send
round cake and other refreshments, of which each
one helps himself as he pleases. Near the end of
the evening, in a well regulated ball, it is customary
<SPAN name="p187" id="p187"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>187<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to have a supper, when the gentlemen stand behind
the ladies who are seated.</p>
<p>In a soirée without great preparation, we may dispense
with a supper, but refreshments are necessary;
and not to have them would be the greatest impoliteness.</p>
<p>The waltz is a dance of quite too loose a character,
and unmarried ladies should refrain from it in
public and private; very young married ladies, however,
may be allowed to waltz in private balls, if it is
very seldom, and with persons of their acquaintance.
It is indispensable for them to acquit themselves
with dignity and decency.</p>
<p>I have spoken of <em>public balls</em>, in contradistinction
to private ones, and I might also have mentioned
<em>balls by subscription</em>, for, in regard to the public balls
of Paris and other large cities, we have nothing to
advise our readers but to shun them. As to masked
balls, it is an amusement altogether to be condemned,
except those of the Opera. Neither should we
appear there except in a domino.</p>
<p>We should retire <em>incognito</em>, not to disturb the master
and mistress of the house; we should make them
during the week, a visit of thanks, at which we may
converse of the pleasure of the ball and of the good
selection of the company.</p>
<h4 title="Of Concerts"><SPAN name="p188" id="p188"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>188<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Concerts.</i></h4>
<p>The proprieties in deportment which concerts require,
are little different from those which are recognized
in every other assembly or in public exhibitions;
for concerts partake of the one and the other,
according as they are public or private. In private
concerts, the ladies occupy the front seats, and
the gentlemen are generally in groups behind, or at
the side of them. One should observe the most profound
silence, and refrain from beating time, humming
the airs, applauding, or making ridiculous
gestures of admiration. Very often a dancing soirée<!-- TN: original reads "soiree" -->
succeeds a concert, and billets of invitation distributed
two or three days beforehand should give notice
of it to the persons invited.</p>
<p>When a lady is going to perform, it is good <i lang="fr">ton</i>
for a gentleman to stand behind the chair of the performer,
and turn over the leaves attentively, if he
knows how to read music.</p>
<p>We ought also after an invitation to a concert, to
return a visit of thanks.</p>
<h4 title="Of Public Shows or Spectacles"><SPAN name="p189" id="p189"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>189<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>SECTION III.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Public Shows or Spectacles.</i></h4>
<p>One would be deceived if he imagined that there
exist no rules of propriety to be observed in public
places, where persons assemble together, and at
theatrical exhibitions. There are some general attentions
which we should manifest to those persons
whom we meet there. It would be impolite to jostle
continually, and in an importunate manner, those
near whom we are placed, to step upon the dress of
a lady, or run against those who are moving at a
moderate pace.</p>
<p>If you go with a party to a theatrical entertainment,
one of the gentlemen should carry the tickets
to the door-keeper, in older to avoid any embarrassment
to ladies on entering; and when the box is
open, they should place them in the front row, according
to their age, or the consideration they deserve.
Young persons should occupy the seats
behind, and avoid leaning over too much, to the
incommoding of those who are seated in front of
them.</p>
<p>Gentlemen should address themselves to the attendants
at the boxes, make them a compensation,
<SPAN name="p190" id="p190"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>190<span class="ns">]
</span></span>and place under their care their hats, the cloaks and
other articles of dress of the ladies; but we must
not hang them over the boxes, whether it is a pocket-handkerchief,
a tippet, or a shawl, &c.<sup><SPAN name="fna18" id="fna18" href="#fn18">18</SPAN></sup> Nor
ought a person to turn his back to the stage; for in
that case, he exposes himself to the derision of the
pit, and to hear disagreeable remarks. Then the
eyes of all would be fixed upon you; your imprudence
would excite a disturbance, which would be
troublesome to the audience.</p>
<p>When a spectator of kind feelings is affected at
the sight of the misfortunes which the heroes of the
play suffer, or has his sympathy touched by the virtues
which are displayed, nothing can be more annoying
to him, than to have constantly at his side, a
morose critic, who, without mercy, finds fault with
the finest parts of the performance, who sees nothing
to his taste, and changes into a place of fatigue
and ennui, resorts consecrated to amusement and
pleasure. It is, moreover, almost as ridiculous to
place no bounds to our applause.</p>
<p>When ladies enter a box where a gentleman is
seated in front of them, propriety requires that he
<SPAN name="p191" id="p191"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>191<span class="ns">]
</span></span>should offer his seat, notwithstanding they are strangers
to him, and he should insist upon their taking
it, even after they have once refused.</p>
<p>If the heat incommodes you, do not open the
door of the box, without the consent of those who
occupy it.</p>
<p>Be very reserved at the theatre, in order not to
trouble those who are near you, and maintain a profound
silence when the actors are on the stage, so as
not to interrupt the attention of persons who take
an interest in the spectacle.</p>
<p>It is improper to pass too positive and severe
a judgment on the performance, or the playing of
the actors, whether to make a eulogium, or to find
fault with them. One may meet persons of a contrary
opinion, and engage himself in a controversy
which it is prudent to avoid.</p>
<p>Between the acts, gentlemen should ask the ladies
if it is agreeable to them to walk in the entries, the
saloon, or to take refreshments. They should also
ask them if they wish for a journal of the theatre
or play bill, or an opera glass; and if bouquets are
sold at the door of the theatre, it would be proper
and gallant to present them with one.</p>
<p>As soon as you have arrived at the outer door of
the theatre, if in a carriage, you must take care to
<SPAN name="p192" id="p192"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>192<span class="ns">]
</span></span>have your party all ready at the very moment the
carriage drives up. It is necessary to do the same
thing, if you send a porter to get a hired coach.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of the Duties of Hospitality"><SPAN name="p193" id="p193"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>193<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER IV.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of the Duties of Hospitality.</i></h3>
<p>Those of my readers who from habit, or instinct,
fear the least appearance of constraint, and perhaps
even in this work have found lessons of politeness
too strict, and have thought that civilization has
augmented them beyond measure, will without
doubt apply the same remark to the present chapter.
But what in reality are these slight duties of modern
hospitality, in comparison to the rigorous ones of
ancient times?</p>
<p>When a billet of announcement has informed you,
as is customary, that a preceding invitation on your
part will bring guests to your house, you must begin
and carefully arrange the apartment you intend for
them. They should have a good bed, a bureau,
a fire in the winter, and everything which can contribute
to their comfort; a wash basin, water, glass
tumblers, a bottle of cologne, a sugar bowl filled, or
rather a glass of water prepared, several napkins,
and everything which will contribute to neatness,
or elegance, ought to be placed in the apartment.</p>
<p>These preliminaries being arranged, a little before
<SPAN name="p194" id="p194"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>194<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the appointed hour, we must go and wait upon our
guests; a domestic should go with you to bring their
baggage to the house. You should embrace your
friends and congratulate them; express the pleasure
you enjoy in receiving them, inquire kindly
about the incidents of their journey, and conduct
them in an earnest manner, and introduce them, by
requesting them to make your house their home;
this finishes the second series of the duties of hospitality.</p>
<p>The third class of obligations, is assiduity to your
guests; because otherwise, it would seem to them,
that their presence was troublesome.</p>
<p>To you belongs the care of kindly offering to
their view everything in your house, in the city or
in the country, which is interesting; of making parties
in honor of them, as dinner parties of their
friends, or such as it is presumed will please them;
these are obligations of hospitality which you cannot
omit. When visitors show any intention of
leaving you, you ought affectionately to endeavor
to retain them; nevertheless, if their resolution
seems immovable, you send to engage their seats at
the coach office; you offer them delicate refreshment,
and accompany them thither; then, taking
leave of them, renew your invitations for another
visit, and your regret at not having been able to
succeed better in retaining them.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p195" id="p195"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>195<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>To do the honors of one’s own house, it is necessary
to have tact, address, knowledge of the world,
and a great evenness of temper, and much affability.
It is necessary to forget one’s-self, in order
to be occupied with others, but without hurry, or
affectation; to encourage timid persons, and put
them at their ease; to enter into conversation, directing
it with address rather than sustaining it
ourselves.</p>
<p>The mistress of a house ought to be obliging, of
an equal temper, and attentive in accommodating
herself to the particular tastes of every one, especially
to appear delighted that they are with her, and
make themselves perfectly at home.</p>
<p>Guests, on their part, should show themselves
contented and grateful for the reception that is given
them. They should, on departing, give a generous
remuneration to the domestics, and immediately
after arriving at home, write to the persons who
have entertained them a letter of cordial thanks.</p>
<p>The duties of hospitality are of frequent recurrence,
fatiguing and troublesome, but they are an
indispensable obligation. To omit them, is to be
willing to pass for a person of no education, and no
delicacy, and in short it is to place people in a most
embarrassing and painful situation.</p>
</div>
<div class="chunk">
<h2 title="PART IV: OF PROPRIETY AS REGARDS OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES"><SPAN name="p196" id="p196"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>196<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>PART IV.<br/><br/><span class="tinycaps">OF PROPRIETY AS REGARDS OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES.</span></h2>
<h3 title="">CHAPTER I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Marriage and Baptism.</i></h3>
<p>These two subjects have peculiar right to the precepts
of politeness; for the first is the closest of the
social relations, and both furnish occasions for the
most brilliant fêtes.</p>
<h4 title="Of Marriage"><SPAN name="p196i" id="p196i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Marriage.</i><sup><SPAN name="fna19" id="fna19" href="#fn19">19</SPAN></sup></h4>
<p>We usually make a profound secret of the preliminaries
of marriage, because, in case of its being
<SPAN name="p197" id="p197"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>197<span class="ns">]
</span></span>broken off, we are afraid of malicious interpretations;
but, after the first words are exchanged, it is necessary
to make it known in confidence to a few intimate
friends, and those to whom we are under obligations.
Afterwards, we give intelligence of it by
letter to our relations.</p>
<p>A young man who solicits a lady in marriage,
should be extremely devoted and respectful; he
should appear a stranger to all the details of business
which the two families discuss; he converses with
his intended particularly of their future arrangements,
her tastes, the selection of a residence, furniture,
bridal presents, &c. Avoiding all misplaced
familiarity, he calls her <em>Miss</em> until returning from
church, on the day of marriage; he accompanies
her in all assemblies, and shows himself a devoted
suitor.</p>
<p>When the banns of matrimony have been published,
it is customary at Paris for a bouquet-maker
to come to adorn the bride, presenting her with a
bouquet. This attention requires a remuneration.</p>
<p>The marriage is declared in two ways. We invite
three or four days beforehand persons of our
acquaintance to assist in the nuptial benediction,
and we specify precisely the time and place where
the ceremony will be performed. As to the legal
<SPAN name="p198" id="p198"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>198<span class="ns">]
</span></span>act, which is performed by civil authority, we invite
only witnesses and near relations.</p>
<p>If a person is invited to assist at the repast or fête
which follows the marriage, we make express mention
of it at the bottom of the letters of invitation.<sup><SPAN name="fna20" id="fna20" href="#fn20">20</SPAN></sup></p>
<p>We simply communicate the fact of the marriage
to those who have been invited neither to the nuptial
ceremony, nor to the entertainment. Propriety
requires that the person invited to the marriage ceremony
should come, or send an excuse if it is impossible
to be present. A simple letter of announcement
to uninvited persons, requires only a visit or
two; the first of which is made by card.</p>
<p>Presents are usually the preliminaries of a marriage:
those which the gentleman makes his intended
wife, are called <em>wedding presents</em>; they consist
of different articles of the toilet, a set of diamonds,
&c. Some persons content themselves with
sending a purse containing a sum of money in gold,
for the purchase of these things: the young lady
then spends it as she thinks proper. The married
gentleman is moreover to make a present to each of
the brothers and sisters of his intended.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p199" id="p199"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>199<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>The young lady, on her part, gives some present
to her bridemaid: she often presents her with a dress
or some ornament, and she receives in her turn
from the other, a girdle, gloves, and a bouquet of
orange flowers. Since we have spoken of marriage
presents, we will add that at Paris the married lady
must receive a gift from her sisters and cousins,
and that in the provincial towns, on the contrary,
she must offer them some token.</p>
<p>We will now pass to the ceremony: after the celebration
of the legal act, which may be some days
previous, the married couple, followed by their parents,
commonly go to the church in the carriages
which conducted them to the office where the legal
act was performed; for at Paris, whatever situation
in life the parties may be in, they never go on foot.
The married lady goes in one carriage with her
relations and the bridemaid; the gentleman in
another carriage with his father and mother, or his
nearest relatives.</p>
<p>The acquaintances of the two married persons,
repair to the church at the appointed hour; the
friends of the gentleman place themselves on the
right, those of the lady on the left hand, on seats
prepared beforehand.</p>
<p>The marriage train then advances in the following
order; the lady gives her hand to her father, or
<SPAN name="p200" id="p200"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>200<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to one who represents him; then comes the gentleman
with his mother, or the lady who represents
her, and afterwards the members of the two families
follow in couples.</p>
<p>When the couple and their relations approach the
altar, each of the persons present bows to them in
silence; the relations place themselves in the same
order as the acquaintances, and before the latter, in
the front row, which should be reserved for them.
The couple to be married are placed in the middle.
Although it is polite always to present the right
hand to the lady whom we conduct, or to give her
the right when we are next her, yet the bridegroom
takes the right of the bride, because, in this act,
which is at once religious and civil, man ought to
preserve the prerogative which the law both human
and divine have conferred upon him; besides, as
the bridegroom is to place the nuptial ring on the
finger of the bride, it is more convenient for him to
be upon the right hand than the left.</p>
<p>When the clergyman puts the questions to them,
each should consult their relations by a respectful
sign of the head, before answering the decisive <em>yes</em>.</p>
<p>The veil is held over the head of the bride by two
children whose parents we wish to compliment.
The business of the bridemaid who has presided at
the toilet of the bride, is to designate their places at
<SPAN name="p201" id="p201"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>201<span class="ns">]
</span></span>the religious ceremony in church; and afterwards,
at the ball, is to supply the place of the bride, who
can take no active part; it is usually one of her sisters
or a most intimate friend who is chosen for this
purpose.</p>
<p>The groomsman, for there should be one or even
more, looks well to the list of those invited to the
ceremony, to see what persons are absent, because
it is the custom of married persons not to make the
marriage visit to any one who has been guilty of
this impoliteness.</p>
<p>The married gentleman must give presents to the
attendants at the church, the <span class="nw">poor, &c.</span></p>
<p>After the nuptial benediction, the married couple
again salute the assembly, and then receive the
compliments of each one. There are some families
in a more humble situation, where the married lady
is embraced by all at the marriage ceremony; in
those in a higher station in life, she embraces only
her father, her mother, and her new relations.</p>
<p>The new husband gives his hand to his wife when
returning from the church; nevertheless at dinner he
should be placed between his mother and his mother-in-law,
while his wife is to be seated between
her father and father-in-law.</p>
<p>In case there is a supper, the married couple sit
next each other.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p202" id="p202"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>202<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>The married lady opens the ball with the most
distinguished person in the assembly; she retires
privately, accompanied by her mother, and one or
more near relations whom they wish to compliment.</p>
<p>The newly married couple make marriage visits
in the course of a fortnight, in a carriage, and in full
dress. They should make these visits alone. They
leave their cards for those with whom they do not
wish to be intimate.</p>
<p>Such are the received usages in the capital. In
the provinces, many of the old and common customs
are preserved, as the gift of a laced shirt bosom to
the husband by his wife; wedding favors or ribbands
for the wife, ribbands of two colors with which they
decorate the young persons in the marriage <span class="nw">suite,
&c.</span></p>
<h4 title="Of Baptism">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Baptism.</i><sup><SPAN name="fna21" id="fna21" href="#fn21">21</SPAN></sup></h4>
<p>We must invite several months beforehand the
godfather and godmother of the child that is to be
baptized. If the ties of blood have given you a right
<SPAN name="p203" id="p203"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>203<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to this onerous duty, you cannot dispense with it.
If not, you can seek a specious excuse.</p>
<p>When one has consented to hold the infant at the
baptismal font, he should perform this duty in a
becoming manner, and according to his own condition
and that of the parents of the child.</p>
<p>A present should be given to the mother, and this
present usually consists of confectionary. We must
also give one to the godmother, a pair of white gloves
and comfits; if she is a young person, she commonly
receives a bouquet of white flowers in addition. If
the godfather wishes to show her any attention, he
can add to the presents an elegant and valuable object,
such as a fan; but in that case it is good <i lang="fr">ton</i>
for the godmother to send in return some rich and
tasteful present. She also has the honor of giving
to the child a cap, and often a baptismal robe. To
her also belongs the duty of putting the first dress
on the child.</p>
<p>The attendant and the nurse have also a present.</p>
<p>The officers of the church, and the poor, should
each receive a gratuity proportionate to their condition.
We simply put a piece of money into the
hands of the humbler persons; but we present the
clergyman with a box of presents in which is enclosed
a piece of gold or silver.</p>
<p>Persons of a very high class in order to free their
<SPAN name="p204" id="p204"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>204<span class="ns">]
</span></span>friends from these expenses, send their domestics to
present their children at the baptismal font. This is
a most unbecoming custom; it seems to consider
this holy consecration as a slavish ceremony, and
destroys at its source the sentiment of respect and
affection, that a godson or daughter should inspire
in those who have adopted them before God.</p>
<p>At whatever hour the ceremony is appointed, we
go to the church in a carriage at the expense of the
godfather. He and the godmother pass in first;
then comes the infant borne by its nurse or a matron;
then the father, who accompanies the other
invited persons.</p>
<p>It is the custom in many houses to give, after returning
from the baptism, an elegant entertainment,
of which the godfather and godmother receive all
the honor. Above all, they should give their godchild
new year’s gifts while it is a child, and manifest
their affection during the whole of its life.</p>
<h3 class="newpage" title="Of Duties toward the Unfortunate"><SPAN name="p205" id="p205"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>205<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>CHAPTER II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop" /><i>Of Duties toward the Unfortunate.</i></h3>
<p>Propriety, the guide of all our relations, cannot
remain a stranger to the unfortunate; that which
takes possession of all our sentiments, cannot forget
to pity. It is in this light that it is peculiarly touching,
that it is almost religious, since it even contributes
to bind closer this first, this powerful tie of
humanity.</p>
<h4 title="Of Duties toward the Sick, Infirm, and Unfortunate"><SPAN name="p205i" id="p205i"></SPAN>SECTION I.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Duties toward the Sick, Infirm, and Unfortunate.</i></h4>
<p>When any one of your acquaintance is ill, you
should regularly send a domestic, to inquire after
their health, every day, or every other day, according
to the virulence and nature of the disease. If
there is immediate danger, we should send to inquire
even twice a day. From time to time, you
should send to know whether the sick person can see
any one, because in that case you must go and testify
in person, all your interest. You should continue
<SPAN name="p206" id="p206"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>206<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to obtain information about their health until their
recovery or death.</p>
<p>Our visits to the sick should be very short, silent,
and reserved. We should address to them words
of interest in a low voice, and speak softly to
the member of the family who takes charge of them.
We ask him who is his physician, what is the treatment;
we urge every motive of consolation and
hope; we ought hardly to reply to the questions
the person in attendance asks, with regard to our
own health, or business, and we retire reiterating
the proofs of our interest. If the person is convalescent
or only indisposed, you address a thousand
questions concerning their complaints; you sympathize
with them, praise their patience, and describe
to them the pleasant image of returning health.
You must be on your guard not to say that you find
their features much changed, that their recovery
may be <span class="nw">slow, &c.</span></p>
<p>To speak these truths is very mal-apropos, and
with reason; you would pass for having an unfeeling
heart, or, rather, a limited understanding.<!-- TN: period invisible in original --></p>
<p>When sufferings and troubles assume a virulent
aspect, and resist all the efforts of medical skill, they
are infirmities indeed, and a silence the most absolute
and rigorous with respect to them, should be
observed.</p>
<p><SPAN name="p207" id="p207"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>207<span class="ns">]<br/></span></span>Not only ought you never to speak to an infirm
person of his misfortune, but you should also carefully
avoid mentioning any person who is afflicted
in the same way, and of thus alluding indirectly to
his own case.</p>
<p>The only occasion when this is allowed, is where
you can make it appear to him that the comforts of
which he is deprived are not so permanent but that
you have experienced similar inconveniences from
the same cause. Thus to a lame person, you might
say that you yourself are fatigued with walking, that
your own legs are not firm, &c. If the infirmity is
not too visible, and the poor subject speaks to you
of it, assure him earnestly that you should not have
observed it. If he complains to you, offer him motives
of consolation, and take care that you change
the subject of conversation before he does, for you
might make him think that you are importuning
him about his malady. Finally, do all in your
power to comfort him. If he is afflicted with imperfect
sight, place objects near him, but without
affectation, and without having the air of making
him think that he requires your assistance, neither
permit him to thank you. If he is troubled with
deafness, you must not speak unreasonably loud;
bring back the attention of the unfortunate person
to the subject of your conversation by skilful and
<SPAN name="p208" id="p208"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>208<span class="ns">]
</span></span>delicate transitions, and not abruptly say to him,
<em>We were speaking of such a thing</em>. This is much
trouble, perhaps you will say. Trouble to console
people! Why, you take more to please them!</p>
<p>Persons who are reduced in circumstances, keep
up in their misfortune (at least in society) their
habits of opulence; and to manage with such persons
requires not a little skill.</p>
<p>If they invite you to their frugal repasts, if they
offer you any presents, let not the fear of occasioning
them expense, induce you to refuse with
warmth, and with obstinacy; you would wound
them deeply. Accept them, and seek an opportunity
of repaying with interest, these proofs of their
politeness. Do not speak to them first of their sad
situation; but if they introduce the subject themselves,
receive their confidence with a respectful
and affectionate attention. Show how much you
are affected with that which grieves them, and without
forgetting discretion, endeavor, in appearance
at least, to render them confidence for confidence.</p>
<h4 title="Of Funerals and Mourning">SECTION II.<br/><br class="x-epubmaker-drop"/><i>Of Funerals and Mourning.</i></h4>
<p>When we lose any one of our family, we should
give intelligence of it to all persons who have had
<SPAN name="p209" id="p209"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>209<span class="ns">]
</span></span>relations of business or friendship with the deceased.
This letter of <em>announcement</em> usually contains an invitation
to assist at the service and burial.</p>
<p>On receiving this invitation, we should go to the
house of the deceased, and follow the body as far as
the church. We are excused from accompanying it
to the burying-ground, unless it be a relation, a
friend, or a superior. If we go as far as the burying-ground,
we must give the first carriages to the
relations or most intimate friends of the deceased.
We should walk with the head uncovered, silently,
and with a sad and thoughtful mien. Relations
ought not, from considerations of propriety, to give
themselves up too much to their grief. You will
owe a visit to persons who have invited you, if you
have not been able to accept their invitation. If
you have attended the ceremony, then they are the
ones that owe the visit.</p>
<p>At an interment or funeral service, the members
of the family are entitled to the first places; they
are nearest to the coffin, whether in the procession,
or in the church. The nearest relations go in a full
mourning dress. It is not customary at Paris for
women to follow the procession; and, nowhere do
they go quite to the grave, unless they are of a low
class. A widower or a widow, a father or mother,
are not present at the interment, or funeral service of
<SPAN name="p210" id="p210"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>210<span class="ns">]
</span></span>those whom they have lost. The first are presumed
not to be able to support the afflicting ceremony;
the second ought not to show this mark of deference.</p>
<p>There are two kinds of mourning, the full and
the half mourning. The full mourning is worn for
a father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, husband,
wife, brother and sister. It is divided into
three periods.<sup><SPAN name="fna22" id="fna22" href="#fn22">22</SPAN></sup> For the first six weeks, we wear only
woollen garments; in the six weeks following, we
wear silk, and the three last months, we mingle
white with the black.</p>
<p>Half mourning is worn for uncles, aunts, cousins,
and second cousins. The first fortnight we wear
black silk, and the last week, white mixed with black.</p>
<p>Custom requires that a woman should wear
mourning for her husband a year and six weeks,
while that of a widower is only six months. This
difference, which may appear singular, is founded
upon reasons of convenience and social relations.</p>
<p>In the three first months of mourning for her
husband, a woman wears only woollen garments;
the six first weeks, her head dress and neck-kerchief
are black crape or gauze; in the six following
<SPAN name="p211" id="p211"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>211<span class="ns">]
</span></span>weeks, they are white crape or linen. The next six
months, she dresses in black silk; in winter, gros
de Naples; in summer, taffetas. Head dress, white
crape. The three last months, she wears black and
white, and the six last weeks, white only.</p>
<p>The mourning on the death of a wife, is a black
cloth coat without buttons,<sup><SPAN name="fna23" id="fna23" href="#fn23">23</SPAN></sup> dark shoes, woollen hose,
black buckles, and a sword-knot of crape, if the
person carries one. At the end of six weeks, we
may wear a black coat with buttons, black silk hose,
silver buckles, and a black ribband upon the sword.
The half mourning of the three last months is a black
coat, a sword and silver buckles, white silk stockings,
and a sword-knot of black and white.</p>
<p>It is altogether contrary to propriety to select for
yourself at the shops the articles of mourning, to
have them made in your presence, or to make them
yourself; and, for a fortnight at least, and sometimes
even for the six first weeks, ladies ought not to sew,
even while receiving their relations and intimate
friends, so much are they supposed to be depressed
by their affliction.</p>
<p>During forty days we do not leave the house, except
to go to church; it would be very improper to
<SPAN name="p212" id="p212"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>212<span class="ns">]
</span></span>visit, dine out, or go to any assembly during the
first mourning. When this time has expired, we
make visits of mourning, and go out a little more,
but we cannot yet appear in public promenades, at
spectacles or balls; we cannot sing, even at home.
It is only at the time of half mourning that we resume
by degrees our former habits of life.</p>
<p>For ten days at least, after the death of a very
near relation, it would be very reprehensible for
people whose profession recalls ideas of pleasure, as
musicians, or dancing masters, to return to their
employment.</p>
<p>In full mourning, we should wear neither curls
nor perfumes. To be present at a funeral, or even
to look at one passing, are forbidden at this time.
Attending a funeral service, other than that of a
relation, is equally prohibited. Excepting during
this period, it is impolite not to attend when invited
to the funeral service of your acquaintances. You
should appear there in mourning. At the funeral
service, as well as at the interment, the male relatives
go first, and then those invited; the female
relatives go next, and are followed by other ladies.</p>
<p>If we marry a person who is in mourning, we put
on black the day after our marriage; the time preceding
is reckoned as if the mourning had been
worn. On the contrary, if we ourselves are married
<SPAN name="p213" id="p213"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>213<span class="ns">]
</span></span>again at a time when the death of a relation by our
former marriage requires this sombre dress, we leave
it off immediately, since our new union annuls the
former alliance.</p>
<p>Visits which are paid to persons in mourning, are
called visits of condolence. In making them, we
observe silence, and never inquire about their health;
this would be out of place. A gentleman offers
them his hand, a lady embraces them, even though
they are but slightly acquainted. We refrain from
conversing on too gay or personal subjects.</p>
<p>If we are at a distance, we testify by letter our
sympathy in the misfortune which afflicts them.
Their grief cannot excuse them from answering us,
but it is not immediately necessary.</p>
<p>With this subject, we shall conclude our treatise
of politeness; hoping that, having arrived at this
point, our readers may say, ‘Without any doubt the
work is full and methodical;’ we shall not dare
to flatter ourselves with more, but this is enough,
for it is being sure that our labor has been useful.</p>
<p>We trust then that we have rendered an essential
service to youth, in making them acquainted
with these rules, which have become so necessary;
in truth, politeness, on which at the present day we
pride ourselves, is a virtue which we ought never
<SPAN name="p214" id="p214"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"><span class="ns">[p</span>214<span class="ns">]
</span></span>to renounce, since it gives to the intercourse of life,
that sweetness, pleasure, elegance and charm which
can be truly felt only by those who possess it. As
the intellectual Madam Lambert has said, ‘Politeness
is the desire of pleasing those with whom
we are obliged to live, and in a manner causing
all around us to be satisfied with us; superiors, with
our respect; equals, with our esteem; and inferiors,
with our kindness.’</p>
<div class="footnote">
<h2>Footnotes</h2>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn1" id="fn1" title="Return to text"
href="#fna1">1.</SPAN></span> That grace, which is more beautiful than beauty
<span class="nw">itself.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn2" id="fn2" title="Return to text"
href="#fna2">2.</SPAN></span> The directions which here follow, are obviously intended
for those who profess the Catholic religion; but
most of them are also applicable to other denominations
of <span class="nw">Christians.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn3" id="fn3" title="Return to text"
href="#fna3">3.</SPAN></span> This refers to the usage in Catholic churches, in
which the consecrated or holy water is kept in a vase,
appropriated to the purpose, near the entrance and in
other parts of the <span class="nw">church.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn4" id="fn4" title="Return to text"
href="#fna4">4.</SPAN></span> These directions are more particularly applicable to
Catholic churches in foreign countries, where it is not
the general custom, as in the United States, to have
pews. The whole floor is an open area, and supplied
with chairs; each person, during service takes two, one
of which he sits in, and places the other before him to
kneel upon. This custom of using chairs, however, is
not universal even in Europe; and the author observes,
in a note, that it were to be wished that in all parts of
France they would adopt the custom observed at Havre,
Dieppe, and other cities of Normandy, where, instead of
having chairs, the churches are furnished throughout
with fixed seats or benches, by which means the service
is conducted with much more order and
<span class="nw">decorum.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn5" id="fn5" title="Return to text"
href="#fna5">5.</SPAN></span> This latter direction is more particularly applicable
to Catholic <span class="nw">usage.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn6" id="fn6" title="Return to text"
href="#fna6">6.</SPAN></span> This is an allusion to the idiom of the French language,
and is inapplicable in <span class="nw">English.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn7" id="fn7" title="Return to text"
href="#fna7">7.</SPAN></span> As washing the feet, cutting the <span class="nw">nails, &c.</span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn8" id="fn8" title="Return to text"
href="#fna8">8.</SPAN></span> Young people who become bald, should not hesitate
to have recourse to wigs. Nothing more saddens the
appearance, than those bald skulls, which seem always
to invite the observations of the anatomist.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn9" id="fn9" title="Return to text"
href="#fna9">9.</SPAN></span> As to the means of obtaining consideration, in performing
the duties appertaining to our station in life, see
the following chapters.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn10" id="fn10" title="Return to text"
href="#fna10">10.</SPAN></span> This has reference, of course, to Catholic countries
only.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn11" id="fn11" title="Return to text"
href="#fna11">11.</SPAN></span> A kind of military cap.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn12" id="fn12" title="Return to text"
href="#fna12">12.</SPAN></span> These remarks have particular reference to Catholic
countries and forms, but may many of them be applied
to other denominations.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn13" id="fn13" title="Return to text"
href="#fna13">13.</SPAN></span> When this accident happens to any one, you must
appear not to perceive it.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn14" id="fn14" title="Return to text"
href="#fna14">14.</SPAN></span> The examples in the original, are the final letters of
the words, <i lang="fr">tabac</i>, <i lang="fr">sang</i>, <i lang="fr">estomac</i>. In English, some persons
are as scrupulous in the distinct pronunciation of
every letter in such words as <em>extra-ordinary</em>, <em>Wed-nes-day</em>,
<span class="nw">&c.—<i>T.</i></span><!-- TN: emdash added for consistency --></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn15" id="fn15" title="Return to text"
href="#fna15">15.</SPAN></span> That a reply may be truly pleasing, it is necessary
that he who makes it has a right so to do, and that we
may quote it without doing him any wrong; otherwise,
we should laugh at the reply, and despise the author of
it. There are replies which are pleasing in the mouth
of a military man, but which would be ridiculous in the
mouth of a civil magistrate. A young lady may make
lively and brilliant repartees, which would be insupportable
in a woman in the decline of life; as the latter
might make such as would be unsuitable in a young lady.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn16" id="fn16" title="Return to text"
href="#fna16">16.</SPAN></span> See <SPAN href="#p137">page 137</SPAN>.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn17" id="fn17" title="Return to text"
href="#fna17">17.</SPAN></span> It is not polite, when the presents are pamphlets, to
offer those of which you have cut the leaves.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn18" id="fn18" title="Return to text"
href="#fna18">18.</SPAN></span> In some of the theatres in Paris, this is however
<span class="nw">allowed.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn19" id="fn19" title="Return to text"
href="#fna19">19.</SPAN></span> The greater part of the marriage ceremonies here
described, are according to the usages of Catholic countries,
but some of them are applicable to our own; and
it has been thought that it would be interesting to
American readers to retain the whole as in the
<span class="nw">original.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn20" id="fn20" title="Return to text"
href="#fna20">20.</SPAN></span> These letters are usually duplicates, for the invitation
should appear to be given by the parents of both
the future couple.</p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn21" id="fn21" title="Return to text"
href="#fna21">21.</SPAN></span> Most of the observances which follow, as well as
those in the section on marriage, have more particular
reference to the forms of the Catholic and Episcopal
<span class="nw">churches.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn22" id="fn22" title="Return to text"
href="#fna22">22.</SPAN></span> Several of the particulars which follow, are not observed
in this <span class="nw">country.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
<p><span class="fn"><SPAN name="fn23" id="fn23" title="Return to text"
href="#fna23">23.</SPAN></span> It is not the custom among us to dispense with
<span class="nw">buttons.—<i>T.</i></span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="tnote">
<h3>Transcriber’s Notes</h3>
<p>Inconsistent hyphenation retained as originally printed (à-propos/àpropos,
fire-place/fireplace, re-conduct/reconduct)</p>
<p>Inconsistent and archaic spelling retained as originally printed (visitor/visiter,
every thing/everything, ancle, accessary, bridemaid, inquiet,
pantomine, secrecy, synonyme)</p>
</div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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