Character — Ch 9b - Manner--Art, cont.

Men who toil with their hands, equally with those who do not, may respect themselves and respect one another; and it is by their demeanour to each other--in other words, by their manners--that self-respect as well as mutual respect are indicated.

There is scarcely a moment in their lives, the enjoyment of which might not be enhanced by kindliness of this sort--in the workshop, in the street, or at home.

The civil workman will exercise increased power amongst his class, and gradually induce them to imitate him by his persistent steadiness, civility, and kindness.

Thus Benjamin Franklin, when a working-man, is said to have reformed the habits of an entire workshop.

One may be polite and gentle with very little money in his purse.

Politeness goes far, yet costs nothing.

It is the cheapest of all commodities.

It is the humblest of the fine arts, yet it is so useful and so pleasure-giving, that it might almost be ranked amongst the humanities.

Every nation may learn something of others; and if there be one thing more than another that the English working-class might afford to copy with advantage from their Continental neighbours, it is their politeness.

The French and Germans, of even the humblest classes, are gracious in manner, complaisant, cordial, and well-bred.

The foreign workman lifts his cap and respectfully salutes his fellow-workman in passing.

There is no sacrifice of manliness in this, but grace and dignity.

Even the lowest poverty of the foreign workpeople is not misery, simply because it is cheerful.

Though not receiving one-half the income which our working-classes do, they do not sink into wretchedness and drown their troubles in drink; but contrive to make the best of life, and to enjoy it even amidst poverty.

Good taste is a true economist.

It may be practised on small means, and sweeten the lot of labour as well as of ease.

It is all the more enjoyed, indeed, when associated with industry and the performance of duty.

Even the lot of poverty is elevated by taste.

It exhibits itself in the economies of the household.

It gives brightness and grace to the humblest dwelling.

It produces refinement, it engenders goodwill, and creates an atmosphere of cheerfulness.

Thus good taste, associated with kindliness, sympathy, and intelligence, may elevate and adorn even the lowliest lot.

The first and best school of manners, as of character, is always the Home, where woman is the teacher.

The manners of society at large are but the reflex of the manners of our collective homes, neither better nor worse.

Yet, with all the disadvantages of ungenial homes, men may practise self-culture of manner as of intellect, and learn by good examples to cultivate a graceful and agreeable behaviour towards others.

Most men are like so many gems in the rough, which need polishing by contact with other and better natures, to bring out their full beauty and lustre.

Some have but one side polished, sufficient only to show the delicate graining of the interior; but to bring out the full qualities of the gem needs the discipline of experience, and contact with the best examples of character in the intercourse of daily life.

A good deal of the success of manner consists in tact, and it is because women, on the whole, have greater tact than men, that they prove its most influential teachers.

They have more self-restraint than men, and are naturally more gracious and polite.

They possess an intuitive quickness and readiness of action, have a keener insight into character, and exhibit greater discrimination and address.

In matters of social detail, aptness and dexterity come to them like nature; and hence well-mannered men usually receive their best culture by mixing in the society of gentle and adroit women.

Tact is an intuitive art of manner, which carries one through a difficulty better than either talent or knowledge.

"Talent," says a public writer, "is power: tact is skill.

Talent is weight: tact is momentum.

Talent knows what to do: tact knows how to do it.

Talent makes a man respectable: tact makes him respected.

Talent is wealth: tact is ready-money."

The difference between a man of quick tact and of no tact whatever was exemplified in an interview which once took place between Lord Palmerston and Mr. Behnes, the sculptor.

At the last sitting which Lord Palmerston gave him, Behnes opened the conversation with--"Any news, my Lord, from France?

How do we stand with Louis Napoleon?"

The Foreign Secretary raised his eyebrows for an instant, and quietly replied, "Really, Mr. Behnes, I don't know: I have not seen the newspapers!"

Poor Behnes, with many excellent qualities and much real talent, was one of the many men who entirely missed their way in life through want of tact.

Such is the power of manner, combined with tact, that Wilkes, one of the ugliest of men, used to say, that in winning the graces of a lady, there was not more than three days' difference between him and the handsomest man in England.

But this reference to Wilkes reminds us that too much importance must not be attached to manner, for it does not afford any genuine test of character.

The well-mannered man may, like Wilkes, be merely acting a part, and that for an immoral purpose.

Manner, like other fine arts, gives pleasure, and is exceedingly agreeable to look upon; but it may be assumed as a disguise, as men "assume a virtue though they have it not."

It is but the exterior sign of good conduct, but may be no more than skin-deep.

The most highly-polished person may be thoroughly depraved in heart; and his superfine manners may, after all, only consist in pleasing gestures and in fine phrases.

On the other hand, it must be acknowledged that some of the richest and most generous natures have been wanting in the graces of courtesy and politeness.

As a rough rind sometimes covers the sweetest fruit, so a rough exterior often conceals a kindly and hearty nature.

The blunt man may seem even rude in manner, and yet, at heart, be honest, kind, and gentle.

John Knox and Martin Luther were by no means distinguished for their urbanity.

They had work to do which needed strong and determined rather than well-mannered men.

Indeed, they were both thought to be unnecessarily harsh and violent in their manner.

"And who art thou," said Mary Queen of Scots to Knox, "that presumest to school the nobles and sovereign of this realm?"

--"Madam," replied Knox, "a subject born within the same."

It is said that his boldness, or roughness, more than once made Queen Mary weep.

When Regent Morton heard of this, he said, "Well, 'tis better that women should weep than bearded men."

As Knox was retiring from the Queen's presence on one occasion, he overheard one of the royal attendants say to another, "He is not afraid!"

Turning round upon them, he said: "And why should the pleasing face of a gentleman frighten me?

I have looked on the faces of angry men, and yet have not been afraid beyond measure."

When the Reformer, worn-out by excess of labour and anxiety, was at length laid to his rest, the Regent, looking down into the open grave, exclaimed, in words which made a strong impression from their aptness and truth--"There lies he who never feared the face of man!"

Luther also was thought by some to be a mere compound of violence and ruggedness.

But, as in the case of Knox, the times in which he lived were rude and violent; and the work he had to do could scarcely have been accomplished with gentleness and suavity.

To rouse Europe from its lethargy, he had to speak and to write with force, and even vehemence.

Yet Luther's vehemence was only in words.

His apparently rude exterior covered a warm heart.

In private life he was gentle, loving, and affectionate.

He was simple and homely, even to commonness.

Fond of all common pleasures and enjoyments, he was anything but an austere man, or a bigot; for he was hearty, genial, and even "jolly."

Luther was the common people's hero in his lifetime, and he remains so in Germany to this day.

Samuel Johnson was rude and often gruff in manner.

But he had been brought up in a rough school.

Poverty in early life had made him acquainted with strange companions.

He had wandered in the streets with Savage for nights together, unable between them to raise money enough to pay for a bed.

When his indomitable courage and industry at length secured for him a footing in society, he still bore upon him the scars of his early sorrows and struggles.

He was by nature strong and robust, and his experience made him unaccommodating and self-asserting.

When he was once asked why he was not invited to dine out as Garrick was, he answered, "Because great lords and ladies did not like to have their mouths stopped;" and Johnson was a notorious mouth-stopper, though what he said was always worth listening to.

Johnson's companions spoke of him as "Ursa Major;" but, as Goldsmith generously said of him, "No man alive has a more tender heart; he has nothing of the bear about him but his skin."

The kindliness of Johnson's nature was shown on one occasion by the manner in which he assisted a supposed lady in crossing Fleet Street.

He gave her his arm, and led her across, not observing that she was in liquor at the time.

But the spirit of the act was not the less kind on that account.

On the other hand, the conduct of the bookseller on whom Johnson once called to solicit employment, and who, regarding his athletic but uncouth person, told him he had better "go buy a porter's knot and carry trunks," in howsoever bland tones the advice might have been communicated, was simply brutal.

While captiousness of manner, and the habit of disputing and contradicting everything said, is chilling and repulsive, the opposite habit of assenting to, and sympathising with, every statement made, or emotion expressed, is almost equally disagreeable.

It is unmanly, and is felt to be dishonest.

"It may seem difficult," says Richard Sharp, "to steer always between bluntness and plain-dealing, between giving merited praise and lavishing indiscriminate flattery; but it is very easy--good-humour, kindheartedness, and perfect simplicity, being all that are requisite to do what is right in the right way."

[183] At the same time, many are unpolite--not because they mean to be so, but because they are awkward, and perhaps know no better.

Thus, when Gibbon had published the second and third volumes of his 'Decline and Fall,' the Duke of Cumberland met him one day, and accosted him with, "How do you do, Mr. Gibbon?

I see you are always AT IT in the old way--SCRIBBLE, SCRIBBLE, SCRIBBLE!"

The Duke probably intended to pay the author a compliment, but did not know how better to do it, than in this blunt and apparently rude way.

Again, many persons are thought to be stiff, reserved, and proud, when they are only shy.

Shyness is characteristic of most people of Teutonic race.

It has been styled "the English mania," but it pervades, to a greater or less degree, all the Northern nations.

The ordinary Englishman, when he travels abroad, carries his shyness with him.

He is stiff, awkward, ungraceful, undemonstrative, and apparently unsympathetic; and though he may assume a brusqueness of manner, the shyness is there, and cannot be wholly concealed.

The naturally graceful and intensely social French cannot understand such a character; and the Englishman is their standing joke--the subject of their most ludicrous caricatures.

George Sand attributes the rigidity of the natives of Albion to a stock of FLUIDE BRITANNIQUE which they carry about with them, that renders them impassive under all circumstances, and "as impervious to the atmosphere of the regions they traverse as a mouse in the centre of an exhausted receiver."

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