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- page-break-after: always; } - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } - .figcenter {font-size: .9em; page-break-inside: avoid; max-height: 100%; - max-width: 100%; } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } - .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; - page-break-before: always; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman, by Maurice Francis Egan - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: A Gentleman - -Author: Maurice Francis Egan - -Release Date: July 20, 2020 [EBook #62712] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chris Curnow, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>A GENTLEMAN.</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY</div> - <div class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, LL.D.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div class='c004'>SECOND EDITION.</div> - <div class='c004'>NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO:</div> - <div><span class='large'>BENZIGER BROTHERS,</span></div> - <div><em>Printers to the Holy Apostolic See.</em></div> - <div>1893.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c005'> - <div>Copyright, 1893, by <span class='sc'>Benziger Brothers</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div><span class='sc'>To</span></div> - <div><span class='sc'>All Boys who want to Make</span></div> - <div><span class='sc'>Life Cheerful.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span> - <h2 class='c007'>Preface.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>In offering this little book to that public -for which it is intended—a public made up -of young men from fifteen to twenty years -of age—the author fears that he may seem -presumptuous. He intends to accentuate -what most of them already know, not to -teach them any new thing. And if he -appear to touch too much upon the trifles -of life, it is because experience shows that -it is the small things of our daily intercourse -with our fellow-beings which make the -difference between success and failure. He -gratefully acknowledges his obligation to the -Reverend editor of the <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ave Maria</span></cite> for permission -to use in the last part of this volume -several of the “Chats with Good Listeners.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The University of Notre Dame</span>,</div> - <div class='line in2'>February 2, 1893.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> - <h2 class='c007'>Contents.</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='Contents'> - <tr> - <th class='c009'></th> - <th class='c010'> </th> - <th class='c011'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>I.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>The Need of Good Manners</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>II.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>Rules of Etiquette</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>III.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>What makes a Gentleman</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>IV.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>What does not make a Gentleman</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>V.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>How to Express One’s Thoughts</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_84'>84</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>IV.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>Letter-writing</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_106'>106</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>VII.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>What to Read</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_126'>126</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>The Home Book-shelf</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>IX.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>Shakspere</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_168'>168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>X.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>Talk, Work, and Amusement</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c009'>XI.</td> - <td class='c010'><span class='sc'>The Little Joys of Life</span>,</td> - <td class='c011'><a href='#Page_194'>194</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='section ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>A GENTLEMAN.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> - <h2 class='c007'>I. The Need of Good Manners.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I have been asked to refresh your memory -and to recall to your mind the necessity -of certain little rules which are often -forgotten in the recurrent interest of daily -life, but which, nevertheless, are extremely -important parts of education. There are -rules made by society to avoid friction, to -preserve harmony, and perhaps to accentuate -the immense gulf that lies between the -savage and the civilized man. But, trifling -as they seem, you will be handicapped in -your career in life if you do not know them. -Good manners are good manners everywhere -in civilization; etiquette is not the same -everywhere. The best manners come from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>the heart; the best etiquette comes from the -head. But the practice of one and the -knowledge of the other help to form that -combination which the world names a -gentleman, and which is described by the -adjective well-bred.</p> - -<p class='c013'>For instance, if a man laughs at a mistake -made by another in the hearing of that -other, he commits a solecism in good manners—he -is thoughtless and he appears -heartless; but if he wears gloves at the -dinner-table and persists in keeping them on -his hands while he eats, he merely commits a -breach of etiquette. Society, which makes -the rules that govern it, will visit the latter -offence with more severity than the former.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Some young people fancy that when they -leave school they will be free,—free to break -or keep little rules. But it is a mistake: if -one expects to climb in this world, one will -find it a severe task; one can never be independent -of social restrictions unless one -become a tramp or flee to the wilds of -Africa. But even there they have etiquette, -for one of Stanley’s officers tells us that some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>Africans must learn to spit gracefully in -their neighbor’s face when they meet.</p> - -<p class='c013'>I do not advise the stringent keeping of -the English etiquette of introductions. At -Oxford, they say, no man ever notices the -existence of another until he is introduced; -and they tell of one Oxford man who saw a -student of his own college drowning. “Why -did you not save him?” “How could I?” -demanded this monster of etiquette; “I had -never been introduced to him.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Boys at school become selfish in the little -things, and they seem to be more selfish than -they really are. Every young man is occupied -with his own interest. If a man upsets -your coffee in his haste to get at his own, -you probably forgive him until you get a -chance to upset his. There is no time to -quarrel about it,—no code among you which -in the outside world would make such a -reprisal a reason for exile from good society.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When you get into this outside world you -will perhaps be inclined to overrate the -small observances which you now look on -with indifference as unnecessary to be practised. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>But either extreme is bad. To be -boorish, rough, uncouth, is a sin against -yourself and against society; to be too exquisite, -too foppish, too “dudish,”—if I may -use a slang word,—is only the lesser of two -evils. Society may tolerate a “dude;” but -it first ignores and then evicts a boor.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A famous Queen of Spain once said that -a man with good manners needs no other -letter of introduction. And it is true that -good manners often open doors to young -men which would otherwise be closed, and -make all the difference between success and -failure. This recalls to my mind an instance -which, if it be not true, has been cleverly invented. -It is an extreme case of self-sacrifice, -and one which will hardly be imitated.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It happened that not long ago there lived -in Washington a young American, who had -been obliged to leave West Point because of -a slight defect in his lungs. He was poor. -He had few friends, and an education, which -fortunately had included the practice of -good manners. It happened that he was -invited out to dinner; and he was seated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>some distance from the Spanish Ambassador,—who -had the place of honor; for the -etiquette of the table is very rigid,—but -within reach of his eye. Just as the salad -was served the hostess grew suddenly pale, -for she had observed on the leaf of lettuce -carried to this young man a yellow caterpillar. -Would he notice it? Would he -spoil the appetite of the other guests by -calling attention to it, or by crushing it? -The Ambassador had seen the creature, too, -and he kept his eye on the young man, asking -himself the same questions.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The awful moment came: the young -man’s plate of salad was before him; the -hostess tried to appear unconcerned, but -her face flushed. Our young man lifted the -leaf, caught sight of the caterpillar, paused -half a second, and then heroically swallowed -lettuce, caterpillar and all! The hostess felt -as if he had saved her life.</p> - -<p class='c013'>After dinner, the Ambassador asked to be -introduced to him. A week later he was -sent to Cuba as English secretary to a high -official there. The climate has suited him; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>his health is restored; and he has begun a -career under the most favorable auspices.</p> - -<p class='c013'>You know the story of Sir Walter Raleigh -and the cloak. Sir Walter was poor, young, -and without favor at court. One day Queen -Elizabeth hesitated to step on a muddy -place in the road; off came Sir Walter’s -new cloak,—his best and only one,—all satin -and velvet and gold lace. Down it went as -a carpet for the Queen’s feet, and his fortune -was made.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But neither our West-Pointer nor Sir -Walter would have made his fortune by his -good manners if he had not disciplined himself -to be thoughtful and alert.</p> - -<p class='c013'>On the other hand, many a man has lost -much by inattention to the little rules of -society. One of the best young men I ever -knew failed to get certain letters of introduction, -which would have helped him materially, -because he would wear a tall hat and -a sack coat, or a low hat and a frock coat. -Society exacts, however, that a man shall do -neither of these things. Remember that I -do not praise the social code that exacts so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>much attention to trifles,—I only say that -it exists.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Prosper Mérimée lost his influence at the -court of Napoleon the Third by a little inattention -to the etiquette which exacts in -all civilized countries that a napkin shall not -be hung from a man’s neck, but shall be -laid on his knee. Mérimée, who was a -charming writer, very high in favor with the -Empress Eugenie, was invited to luncheon -in her particular circle one day. He was -much flattered, but he hung his napkin from -the top button of his coat; the Empress -imitated his example, for she was very polite, -but she never asked him to court again. It -is the way of the social world—one must -follow the rules or step out.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If a man chooses to carry his knife to his -mouth instead of merely using it as an implement -for cutting, he is at perfect liberty -to do so. He may not succeed in chopping -the upper part of his head off, but he will -succeed in cutting himself off from the -“Dress Circle of Society,” as Emerson -phrases it. Apart from the first consideration -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>that should govern our manners,—which -is, that Our Lord Jesus Christ means -that, in loving our neighbors as ourselves, we -should show them respect and regard,—you -must remember that politeness is power, and -that for the ambitious man there is no -surer road to the highest places in this land, -and in all others, than through good manners. -You may gain the place you aim for, -but, believe me, you will keep it with torture -and difficulty if you begin now by -despising and disregarding the little rules -that have by universal consent come to -govern the conduct of life. One independent -young person may thrust his knife into -his mouth with a large section of pie on it, -if he likes: you can put anything into a barn -that it will hold, if the door be wide enough. -They tell me that in Austria some of the -highest people eat their sauerkraut with the -points of their knives. But we do not do it -here, and we must be governed by the rules -of our own society. Some of you who -always want to know the reason for rules, -may ask why are we permitted to eat cheese -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>with our knives after dinner. I can only -answer that I do not know and I do not care. -The subject is not important enough for discussion. -Good society all over the English-speaking -world permits the use of the knife -only in eating cheese. Some people prefer to -take it with their fingers, like olives, asparagus, -artichokes, and undressed lettuce. So -generally is this small rule observed, that a -very important discovery was made not very -long ago through a knowledge of it. An adventurer -claiming to be a French duke was -introduced to an American family. He was -well received, until one day he tried to spear -an olive with his knife. As this is not a -habit of good society, he was quietly dropped—very -fortunately for the family, as he was -discovered to be a forger and ex-convict.</p> - -<p class='c013'>You may ask, Why are olives, lettuce, -and asparagus often eaten with the fingers? -I can only answer, that it is a custom of -civilized society. You may ask me again, -Why must we break our bread instead -of cutting it? And why must we take a -fork to eat pie, when we are permitted to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>eat asparagus and lettuce with our fingers? -I say again that I do not know: all that I -know is, that these social rules are fixed, and -that it is better to obey than to lose time in -asking why.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But if you should happen to be of a doubting -turn of mind, accept an invitation to -dinner from some person for whose social -standing you have much respect, and then -if your hostess in the kindness of her heart -serves pie, take half of it in your right hand, -close your eyes, bite a crescent of it in your -best manner, and observe the effect on the -other guests. You may be quite certain -that if you desire not to be invited again to -that house you will have your wish. Society -in this country is becoming more and more -civilized and exacting every year; and you -will simply put a mark of inferiority on yourself -in its eyes if you disregard rules which -are trifles in themselves, but very important -in their effect.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man’s fate in life may be decided -by a badly-written letter or a well-written -one, by a rough gesture, by an oath or an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>unclean phrase uttered when he thinks no -one is listening. But let us remember that -there is always some one looking or hearing; -for, and this is an axiom, there are no secrets -in life.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Emerson says, writing of “Behavior:” -“Nature tells every secret over. Yes, but -in man she tells it all the time, by form, -attitude, gesture, mien, face and parts of -the face, and by the whole action of the -machine. The visible carriage or action of -the individual, as resulting from his organization -and his will combined, we call manners. -What are they but thought entering -the hands and feet, controlling the -movements of the body, the speech and behavior?”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Of the power of manners Emerson further -says: “Give a boy address and accomplishments, -and you give him the mastery of -palaces and fortunes wherever he goes. He -has not the trouble of earning them.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>And in another place: “There are certain -manners which are learned in good society -of such force that, if a person have them, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>or she must be considered and is everywhere -welcome, though without beauty or -wealth or genius.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Cardinal Newman, in his definition of a -gentleman, does not forget manners, though -he lays less stress on their power for worldly -advancement than Emerson does. Good -manners are, in the opinion of the great -cardinal, the outward signs of true Christianity. -Etiquette is the extreme of good -manners. A man may be a good Christian -and expectorate, spit, sprinkle, spray, diffuse -tobacco-juice right and left. But the -man who will do that, though he have a good -heart and an unimpeachable character, is not -a gentleman in the world’s meaning of the -term, for <em>with the world</em> it is not the heart -that counts, but the manners. You may -keep your hat on your head if you choose -when you meet a clergyman or a lady. You -need not examine your conscience about it, -and you will find nothing against it in the -Constitution of the United States; you may -be on your way to give your last five dollars -to the poor or to visit a sick neighbor; but, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>by that omission you stamp yourself at once -as being outside the sacred circle in which -society includes gentlemen. You can quote -a great many fine sentiments against me, if -you like; you may say, with Tennyson,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Kind hearts are more than coronets,</div> - <div class='line'>And simple faith than Norman blood.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>God keep us from thinking otherwise; but, -if one get into a habit of disregarding the -small rules of etiquette, if one use one’s fork -for a toothpick, drink out of one’s finger-bowl, -reach over somebody’s head for a piece of -bread, all the kind hearts and simple faith in -the world will not keep you in the company -of well-bred people. You may answer that -some very good persons blow their soup with -their breath, stick their own forks into general -dishes, and—the thing has been done -once perhaps in some savage land—wipe their -noses with their napkins. But if these good -people paid more attention to the little -things of life, their goodness would have -more power over others. As it is, virtue loses -half its charm when it ignores good manners. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>It is only old people and men of great -genius who can afford to disregard manners. -Old people are privileged. If they choose -to eat with their knives or with their napkins -around their necks,—a thing which is -no longer tolerated,—the man who remarks -on it, who shows that he notices it, who -criticises it, is not only a boor, but a fool. -Young people have no such privileges: they -must acquire the little habits of good society -or they will find every avenue of cultivation -closed to them.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The only time they are privileged to violate -etiquette is when some older person -does it: then they had better follow a bad -form than rebuke him by showing superiority -in manners.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is foolish to appear to despise the little -rules that govern the conduct of life. This -appearance of contempt for observances -which have become part of the every-day -existence of well-regulated people, arises -either from selfishness or ignorance. The -selfish man does not care to consider his -neighbors; but his selfishness is very shortsighted, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>because his neighbors, whose feelings -and rights he treats as non-existent, will soon -force the consideration of them on him.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man may think it a fine thing to -be independent in social matters. He will -soon find that he cannot afford in life to be -independent of anything except an evil influence. -If he prefers the society of loungers -in liquor-saloons or at hotel-bars, he needs -nothing but a limitless supply of money. -His friends there require the observance of -only one rule of etiquette—he must “treat” -regularly. To young men who hunger for -that kind of independence and that sort of -friends I have nothing to say, except that -it is easy to prophesy their ruin and disgrace. -If a man has no better ambition -than to die in an unhonored grave or to live -forsaken in an almshouse, let him make up -his mind to be “independent.” The world in -which you will live is exacting, and you can -no more succeed and defy its exactions than -you can stick your finger into a fire and -escape burning.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Even in the question of clothes—which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>seems to most of us entirely our own affair—society -exacts obedience. You cannot wear -slovenly clothes to church, for instance, and -expect to escape the indignation of your -dearest friends.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In the most rigid of European countries, if -one happens to be presented to the king one -wears no gloves: one would as soon think -of wearing gloves as of wearing a hat. Similarly, -according to the strictest etiquette in -European countries, people generally take off -their gloves at the Canon of the Mass, and, -above all, when they approach the altar, -because they are in the special presence of -God, the King of heaven and earth. How -different is the practice of some of us! We -lounge into church as we would into a gymnasium, -with no outward recognition of the -Presence of God except a “dip” towards -the tabernacle or an occasional and often inappropriate -thumping of the stomach, which -is, I presume, supposed to express devotion.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is as easy to bring a flower touched by -the frost back to its first beauty as to restore -conduct warped by habit. And so, if you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>want to acquire good manners that will be -your passport to the best the world has, begin -now by guarding yourself from every act -that may infringe on your neighbor’s right, -from every word that will give him needless -pain, and from every gesture at table -which may interfere with his comfort. We -cannot begin to discipline ourselves too -soon; it is good, as the Scripture says, -“that a man bear the yoke when he is -young.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Social rules, as I said, are very stringent -on the seemingly unimportant matter of -clothes: so a man must not wear much -jewelry, under pain of being considered vulgar. -He may wear a pin, or a ring, or a -watch-chain, if he likes; but for a young man, -the less showy these are, the better. It may be -said that there are a great many people who -admire diamonds, and who like to see many -of them worn. This is true; but if a young -man puts a small locomotive headlight in -his bosom, or gets himself up in imitation of -a pawnbroker’s window, he may be suspected -of having robbed a bank. It is certain that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>he will show very bad taste. Lord Lytton, -the author of “Pelham,” who was a great -social authority, says that a man ought to -wear no jewelry unless it is exquisitely artistic -or has some special association for the -wearer.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If a young man is invited to a dinner or to -a great assembly in any large city, he must -wear a black coat. A gray or colored coat -worn after six o’clock in the evening, at any -assembly where there are ladies, would imply -either disrespect or ignorance on the part -of the wearer. In most cities he is expected -to wear the regulation evening dress, the -“swallow-tail” coat of our grandfathers, and, -of course, black trousers and a white tie. -In London or New York or Chicago a man -must follow this last custom or stay at home. -He has his choice. The “swallow-tail” -coat is worn after six o’clock in the evening, -never earlier, in all English-speaking countries. -In France and Spain and Italy and -Germany it is worn as a dress of ceremony -at all hours. No man can be presented to -the Holy Father unless he wears the “swallow-tail,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>so rigid is this rule at Rome, -though perhaps an exception might be made -under some circumstances.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In our country, where the highest places -are open to those who deserve them, a young -man is foolish if he does not prepare himself -to deserve them. And no man can expect -to be singled out among other men if he -neglects his manners or laughs at the rules -which society makes. Speaking from the -spiritual or intellectual point of view, there is -no reason why a man should wear a white -linen collar when in the society of his fellows; -from the social point of view there is every -reason, for he will suffer if he does not. Besides, -he owes a certain respect to his neighbors. -A man should dress according to circumstances: -the base-ball suit or the Rugby -flannels are out of place in the dining-room -or the church or the parlor, and the tall hat -and the dress suit are just as greatly out of -place in the middle of the game on the playground. -Good sense governs manners; but -when in doubt, we should remember that -there are certain social rules which, if learnt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>and followed, will serve us many mortifications -and even failures in life.</p> - -<p class='c013'>No man is above politeness and no man -below it. Louis the Fourteenth, a proud and -autocratic monarch, always raised his hat to -the poorest peasant woman; and a greater -man than he, George Washington, wrote the -first American book of etiquette.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> - <h2 class='c007'>II. Rules of Etiquette.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>The social laws that govern the Etiquette -of Entertainments of all kinds are as -stringent and as well defined as any law a -judge interprets for you. It may be thought -that one may do as he pleases at the theatre, -in a concert-room, or at a dinner-party; that -little breaches of good manners will pass -unobserved or be forgiven because the person -who commits them is young. This is a -great mistake. More is expected from the -young than the old; and if a young man -comes out of college and shows that he is -ignorant of the rules of etiquette which all -well-bred people observe, he will be looked -on as badly brought up. There are certain -finical rules which are made from time to -time, which live a brief space and are heard -of no more. The English, who generally set -the fashion in these things, call these non-essentials -“fads.” They are made to be forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>For a time it had become a fashionable -“fad” to use the left hand as much as possible, -in saluting to take off one’s hat with -the left hand, to eat one’s soup with the left -hand; but this is all nonsense. Not long -ago, in New York, every “dude” turned -up the bottoms of his trousers in all sorts of -weather, because in London everybody did it. -Other fads were the carrying of a cane, -handle down, and the holding of the arms -with the elbows stuck out on both sides of -him. Another importation of the Anglomaniacs -was the habit of putting American -money into pounds, shillings, and pence, for -people who had been so long abroad could -not be expected to remember their own currency. -Another pleasant importation is the -constant repetition of “don’t you know.” -But they are all silly fashions, that may do -for that class of “chappies” whose most -serious occupation is that of sucking the -heads of their canes, or of reducing themselves -to idiocy with the baleful cigarette, -or considering how pretty the girls think -they are—but not for men.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>The rules held by sane people all over -the English-speaking world are those one -ought to follow, not the silly follies of the -hour, which stamp those who adopt them as -below the ordinary level of human beings.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Let us imagine that you have been sent to -Washington on business. I take Washington -because it is the capital of the United States, -and, if you do the right thing according to -social rules there, you will do the right -thing everywhere else. So you are going -to Washington, where you will see one of the -most magnificent domes in the world and -the very beautiful bronze gates of the Capitol, -a building about which we do not think -enough because it happens to be in our own -country. If it were in Europe, we should -be flocking over in droves to see it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Some kind friend gives you a letter of introduction -to a friend of his. You accept -it with thanks, of course. It is unsealed, -because no gentleman ever seals a letter of -introduction. You read it and are delighted -to find yourself complimented. Now, if you -want to do the right thing, you will go to a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>good hotel when you get to Washington; a -<em>good</em> hotel—a hotel you can mention without -being ashamed of it. It will pay to spend -the extra money. And if a woman comes -into the elevator as you are going up to -your room,—I would not advise you to take -a suite of rooms on the ground-floor,—lift -your hat and do not put it on again until -she goes out. You will send your letter of -introduction to your friend’s friend and wait -until he acknowledges it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But if you want to do the wrong thing, -you will take the letter of introduction and -your travelling bag and go at once to Mr. -Smith’s house. You may arrive at midnight; -but never mind that,—people like promising -young folk to come at any time. If the -clocks are striking twelve, show how athletic -you are by pulling the bell out by the wires. -When the members of the family are aroused, -thinking the house is afire, they will be so -grateful to you, and then you can ask for -some hot supper. This pleasing familiarity -will delight them. It will show them that -you feel quite at home. It will ruin you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>eventually in the estimation of stupid people -who do not want visitors at midnight—but -you need not mind them, though they -form the vast majority of mankind.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If you want to do the right thing, wait -until Mr. Smith acknowledges your letter of -introduction and asks you to call at his house. -If the letter is addressed to his office, you -may take it yourself and send it in to him. -But you ought not to go to his house until -he invites you. After he does this, call -in the afternoon or evening—never in the -morning, unless you are specially asked. -A “morning call” in good society means a -call in the afternoon. And a first call ought -not to last more than fifteen minutes. Take -your hat and cane into the parlor; you may -leave overcoat and umbrella and overshoes -in the hall. A young man who wants to act -properly will not lay his cane across the -piano or put his hat on a chair. The hat -and stick ought to be put on the floor near -him, if he does not care to hold them in his -hands. If he leaves his hat in the hall, his -hostess will think that he is going to spend -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>the day in her house. But if she insists on -taking his hat from him, it will not do to -struggle for it. Such devotion to etiquette -might make a bad impression. Good feeling -and common-sense must modify all rules; -and if one’s entertainers have the old-fashioned -impressions that the first duty of hospitality -is to grasp one’s hat and cane, let -them have them by all means; but do not -take the sign to mean that you are to stay -all day. A quarter of an hour is long enough -for a first call.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“You must have had a delightful visitor -this morning,” one lady said to another. “He -stayed over an hour. What did he talk -about?” The other lady smiled sadly: “He -told me how he felt when he had the scarlet -fever, and all about his mother’s liver-complaint.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Topics of conversation should be carefully -chosen. Strangers do not want to see a man -often who talks about his troubles, his illness, -and his virtues. The more the “You” is -used in general society and the less the “I,” -the better it will be for him who has the tact -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>to use it. There is no use in pretending -that our troubles are interesting to anybody -but our mothers. Other people may listen, -but, depend upon it, they prefer to avoid a -man with a grievance.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If the young man with the letter of introduction -has made a good impression, he will -probably be invited to dinner. And then, if -he has been careless of little observances, he -will begin to be anxious. Perhaps it will be -a ceremonious dinner, too, where there will -be a crowd of young girls ready to criticise -in their minds every motion, and some older -ladies who will be sure to make up their minds -as to the manner in which he has been brought -up at home or at college. And we must -remember that our conduct when we get out -into the world reflects credit or discredit on -our homes or our schools.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If our young man is invited to luncheon, -he will find it much the same as a dinner, -except that it will take place some time between -twelve and two o’clock; while a dinner -in a city is generally given at six o’clock, -but sometimes not till eight. The very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>fashionable hour is nine. In Washington -the time is from six to eight. If the dinner -is to be formal—not merely a family dinner—our -young stranger will get an invitation -worded in this way:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c016'> - <div><em>Mr. and Mrs. John Robinson</em></div> - <div><em>request the pleasure of</em></div> - <div><em>Mr. James Brown’s company at dinner,</em></div> - <div><em>On Thursday, June the Twentieth,</em></div> - <div><em>At seven o’clock.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Our young man should send an answer at -once to this, and he must say Yes or No; -and if Mr. James Brown “regrets that he -cannot have the pleasure of accepting Mr. -and Mrs. John Robinson’s invitation to dinner -on June the Twentieth, at seven o’clock,” -let him give a good reason. If he have a -previous engagement, that is a good reason; -if he will be out of town, that is a good reason; -but he must answer the invitation at -once, and say whether he will go or not. -To invite to dinner is the highest social -compliment one man can pay another, and -it should be considered in that light. Of -course if a young man considers himself so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>brilliant that people must invite him to their -houses, he may do as he pleases, but he will -soon find himself alone in that opinion. It -is not good looks or brilliancy of conversation -that gains a man the right kind of friends: -it is good manners. Conceit in young people -is an appalling obstacle to their advancement. -You remember the story of the New York -college man who was rescued from drowning -by a ferry-hand. The latter expressed -his disgust with the reward he received, and -one of the college man’s friends asked him -why he had not done more for his rescuer. -“Done more?” he exclaimed,—he considered -himself the handsomest man of his class,—“Done -more! What could I do? Did not -I give him my photograph, cabinet size?”</p> - -<p class='c013'>If a young man is shy, now will come his -time of trials. But if he keeps in mind the -few rules that regulate the etiquette of the -dinner-table, he will have no reason to fear -that he will make any important mistakes. -If his hostess should ask him to take a lady -in to dinner, he will offer her his left arm, so -that his right may be free to adjust her chair, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>and he will wait until his place is pointed -out by the hostess. He will find it awkward -if he should drop into the first seat he come -to—for the laws of the dinner-table are regularity -and beauty. We cannot all be beautiful, -but we can move in obedience to good -rules. It is important that the man received -in society should not cover too much space -with his feet; he ought to try to keep them -together.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A dinner—that is, a formal dinner—generally -opens with four or five oysters. The -guest is expected to squeeze lemon on them -and to eat them with an oyster-fork. If one -man is tempted to saw an oyster in half with -a knife, he had better resist the temptation -and miss eating the oyster rather than commit -so barbarous an outrage. A guest who -would cut an oyster publicly in half is probably -a cannibal who would cut up a small -baby without remorse. A man must not ask -for oysters twice.</p> - -<p class='c013'>After the oysters comes the soup. If the -dinner-party is small, the soup may be passed -by guest to guest; but the waiter generally -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>serves it. It is a flagrant violation of good -manners to ask for soup twice. It should be -taken from the side of the spoon if the guest’s -mustache will permit it, and not from the -tip. Soup is dipped from the eater, not -toward him. Among the Esquimaux it is the -fashion to smack the lips after every luscious -mouthful of liquid grease; with us, people do -not make any noise or smack their lips over -anything they eat, no matter how good it is. -In George Eliot’s novel of “Middlemarch,” -Dorothea’s sister’s greatest objection to Mr. -Causaban is that his mother had never -taught him to eat soup without making a -noise.</p> - -<p class='c013'>After the soup comes the fish. The young -guest may not like fish, but he must pretend -to eat it; it is bad manners not to pretend to -eat everything set before one at a dinner. A -little tact will help anybody to do it. No -dish must be sent away with the appearance -of having been untasted. It would be -an insult to one’s hostess not to seem to like -everything she has offered us. And, as the -chief duty of social intercourse is to give -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>pleasure and to spare pain, this little suggestion -is most important.</p> - -<p class='c013'>On this point Mrs. Sherwood, an acknowledged -authority on social matters, says: -“First of all things, decline nothing. If you do -not like certain kinds of food, it is a courtesy -to your hostess to appear as if you did. You -can take as little on your plate as you choose, -and you can appear as if eating it, for there -is always your bread to taste and your fork -or spoon to trifle with, and thus conceal -your unwillingness to partake of a disliked -course.” Fish is eaten with a fork in one -hand and a piece of bread in the other. There -was once a man who filled his mouth with -fish and dropped the bones from his lips to -his plate. He disappeared—and nobody asks -where he has gone. If a bone does happen -to get into the mouth, it can be quietly removed. -The guest who puts his fingers -ostentatiously into his mouth to take out the -fish-bones he has greedily placed there might, -under temptation, actually and savagely tilt -over his soup plate to scoop up the last drop -of the liquid.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>The next course, after the fish, is the entrée; -it may be almost anything. No well-bred -man ever asks for a second helping of -the sweetbreads, or chops, or whatever dish -may form the entrée. It is eaten with the -fork in the right hand and a piece of bread -in the left. In England it is considered ill-bred -to pass the fork from the left hand to -the right; but we have not as yet become so -expert in the use of the left hand, so we use -our forks with the right. A guest who asks -for a second portion of the entrée may find -himself in the position of a certain Congressman -who had never troubled himself about -etiquette. He was invited to a state dinner -at the White House. The courses were delayed -by this genial legislator, who would -be helped twice. When the roasts came on -he turned to a lady, and in his amiable -way said, with a fascinating smile, “No, I -can’t eat more; I’m full—up to here,” he -added, making a pleasant motion across his -throat. It was probably the same Congressman -who, seeing a slice of lemon floating in -his finger-bowl, drank its contents, and swore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>that it was the weakest lemonade he had -ever tasted.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The roast comes after the entrée. Each -course is eaten slowly, because the host wants -to keep his guests in pleasant conversation -at his table as long as possible. If the host -helps our young guest to a slice of the roast, -whatever flesh-meat or fowl it may be, the -guest must not pass it to anybody else: he -must keep it himself; it was intended for him. -This rule does not apply to the soup and the -fish and the entrées as it does to the roast. -Suppose a guest wants his beef rare, or underdone, -and I pass him the piece given to me by -the host, because he knows I like it well-done: -the consequence is that the guest next to me -gets what he does not like and I get what I -do not like. Another thing: Begin to eat as -soon as you are helped. Do not wait for -anybody; if you do, your food may become -cold.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The seat of honor for the men is always on -the hostess’ right hand; for the ladies, on the -right hand of the host. The lady in the seat -of honor is always helped first. She begins to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>eat at once. There is nobody to wait for then. -The rule is that one should begin to eat as -soon as one is served. This rule may be followed -everywhere, and the practice of it prevents -much embarrassment.</p> - -<p class='c013'>After the roast there will probably be an -entremets of some kind. It may be an -omelette, it may be only a salad, or it may be -some elaborately made dish. In any case, your -fork and a bit of bread will help you out. -When in doubt, a young man should always -use his fork—never his knife, as it is used -only to cut with, and to help one’s self to -cheese. Vegetables are always taken with -the fork; lettuce too, and asparagus, except -when there is no liquid sauce covering -it entirely. Lettuce, when without sauce, -asparagus when not entirely covered with -sauce, are eaten with the fingers. Water-cress -is always eaten with the fingers, and so are -artichokes. A dinner ought not to last over -two hours; but it may. If our guest yawns -or looks at his watch he is ruined socially. -He might almost as well thrust his knife into -his mouth as do either of them. When he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>gets more accustomed to the world, he will -discern that people object to a view of his -throat suddenly opened to them.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But to return to our dinner-party: If -the finger-bowls are brought on, the general -custom is to remove them from the little -plate on which they stand. The little napkins -underneath them are not used: these are -merely put there to save the plate from being -scratched by the finger-bowls. As usage -differs somewhat here, the young guest had -better watch his hostess and imitate her.</p> - -<p class='c013'>An ice called a Roman punch is served -after the roast; it is always eaten with a -spoon. If a fork is served with the ice-cream -at the end of the dinner, the amiable young -man had better not begin to giggle and ask -“What’s this for?” If he never saw ice-cream -eaten with a fork before, it is not -necessary to show it. It is very often so eaten, -and if he finds a fork near his ice-cream plate, -let him use it just as if it was no novelty. -To show surprise in society is bad taste; it -is good taste to praise the flowers, the china, -the soup. One ought to say that he enjoyed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>himself, but never to say that he is thankful -for a good dinner. It is understood that -civilized people dine together for the pleasure -of one another’s society, not merely to eat.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When the little cups of black coffee are -served, our young guest may take a lump of -sugar with his fingers, if there are no tongs. -Similarly in regard to olives, he may take -them with his fingers and eat them with his -fingers. One’s fingers should be dipped in -the finger-bowls,—there is a story told of a -young man who at his first dinner-party put -his napkin into his finger-bowl and mopped -his face. The host, who ought to have been -more polite, asked him if he wanted a bathtub. -The boy said no, and asked for a sponge.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If our young guest be wise he will pay all -possible attention to the hostess; the host -really does not count until the cigars come -around. Then let the young person beware -in being too ready to smoke. He may possibly -not be offered cigars at all, but if he -is, and he smokes in any lady’s presence -without asking her permission, the seal of -vulgarity is impressed on him.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>A guest to whom black coffee is served in -a little cup ought not to ask for cream. It -might cause some inconvenience; it is not -the custom. When a plate is changed or -sent up to our host, the knife and fork should -be laid parallel with each other and obliquely -across the plate. At small dinners, where -the host insists on helping you twice, one -may keep his knife and fork until his plate -is returned to him.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span> - <h2 class='c007'>III. What Makes a Gentleman.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>Cardinal Newman made a famous definition -and description, both in the same -paragraph, of a gentleman. “It is almost,” -he said, in his “Idea of a University,” “a -definition of a gentleman to say he is one who -never inflicts pain.” And this truth will be -found to be the basis of all really good -manners. Good manners come from the -heart, while etiquette is only an invention of -wise heads to prevent social friction, or to -keep fools at a distance. Nobody but an -idiot will slap a man on the back unless the -man invites the slap by his own familiarity. -It seems to me that the primary rule which, -according to Cardinal Newman, makes a -gentleman is more disregarded in large -schools than anywhere else. There is no -sign which indicates ignorance or lack of -culture so plainly as the tendency to censure, -to jibe, to sneer,—to be always on the alert -to find faults and defects. On the other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>hand, a true gentleman does not censure, if -he can help it: he prefers to discover virtues -rather than faults; and, if he sees a -defect, he is silent about it until he can -gently suggest a remedy.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The school-boy is not remarkable for such -reticence. And this may be one of the reasons -why he has the reputation of being selfish, -ungrateful, and sometimes cruel. He is -not any of these things; he is, as a rule, only -thoughtless. It has been said that a <em>blunder</em> -is often worse than a <em>crime</em>; and thoughtlessness -sometimes produces effects that are -more enduringly disastrous than crimes. -Forgetfulness among boys or young men is -thoughtlessness. If an engineer forget for a -<em>moment</em>, his train may go to <span class='fss'>RUIN</span>. If a -telegrapher forget to send a message, death -may be the result; but neither of them can -acquire such control over himself that he -will always <em>remember</em>, if he does not practise -the art of thinking every day of his life. It -is thoughtfulness, consideration, that makes -life not only endurable, but pleasant. As -Christians, we are bound to do to others as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>we would have them do to us. But as -members of a great society, in which each -person must be a factor even more important -than he imagines, we shall find that, even -if our Christianity did not move us to bear -and forbear from the highest motives, ordinary -prudence and regard for our own comfort -and reputation should lead us to do -these things. The Christian gentleman is -the highest type: he may be a hero as well -as a gentleman. Culture produces another -type, and Cardinal Newman thus describes -him. The Cardinal begins by saying that -“it is almost a definition of a gentleman to -say he is one who never inflicts pain. This -description,” he continues, “is both refined -and, as far as it goes, accurate. The gentleman -is mainly occupied in merely removing -the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed -action of those about him; and -he concurs with their movements rather -than takes the initiative himself. The benefits -may be considered as parallel to what -are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements -of a personal nature: like an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>easy-chair or a good fire, which do their -part in dispelling cold or fatigue, though -nature provides both means of rest and -animal heat without them. The true gentleman -in like manner carefully avoids whatever -may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of -those with whom he is cast,—all clashing of -opinion or collision of feeling, all restraint -or suspicion or gloom or resentment,—his -great concern being to make every one at -their ease or at home. He has his eyes on -all the company: he is tender towards the -bashful, gentle toward the distant, and merciful -towards the absurd; he can recollect -to whom he is speaking; he guards against -unreasonable allusions or topics which may -irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, -and never wearisome. He makes -light of favors which he does them, and -seems to be receiving when he is conferring. -He never speaks of himself except when -compelled, never defends himself by a mere -retort; he has no ears for slander or gossip, -is scrupulous in imputing motives to those -who interfere with him, and interprets everything -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>for the best. He is never mean or -little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, -never mistakes personalities or -sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates -evil which he dare not say out. From a -long-sighted prudence he observes the maxim -of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct -ourselves towards our enemy as if he -were one day to be our friend.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>The Cardinal’s definition of a gentleman -does not end with these words: you can find -it for yourself in his “Idea of a University,” -page 204. It will be found, on examination, -to contain the principles which give a man -power to make his own life and that of his -fellow-beings cheerful and pleasant. And -life is short enough and hard enough to -need all the kindness, all the cheerfulness, -all the gentleness, that we can put into -it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If a friend passes from among us, one of -the most enduring of our consolations is that -we never gave him needless pain while he -lived. And who can say which of our friends -may go next? He who sits by you to-night, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>he who greets you first in the morning, may -suffer from a hasty word or a thoughtless act -that you can never recall.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is in the ordinary ways of life that the -true gentleman shows himself. He does not -wait until he gets out of school to pay attention -to the little things. He begins here, -and he begins the moment he feels that he -ought to begin. Somebody once wrote that -the man who has never made a mistake is a -fool. And another man added to this, that -a wise man makes mistakes, but <em>never</em> the -<em>same</em> mistake <em>twice</em>. A gentleman at heart -may blush when he thinks of his mistakes, -but he never repeats them. It is a mistake -made by thoughtless young people to stand -near others who are talking. It is a grave -sin against politeness for them to listen, as -they sometimes do, with eyes and ears open -for fear they should miss any of the words -not intended for them. The young man -thus engaged is an object of pity and contempt. -Politeness may prevent others from -rebuking him publicly, but it does not change -their opinion of him, nor does it enter their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>minds to excuse him on the plea that he -“didn’t think.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>It does not seem to strike some of you -that the convenience of those who work for -you ought to be considered, and that unnecessary -splashings of liquids and dropping of -crumbs and morsels of food is the most reprehensible -indication of thoughtlessness.</p> - -<p class='c013'>We often forget that criticism does not -mean fault-finding. It means rather the art -of finding virtues; and after any private entertainment, -at which each performer has done -his best for his audience, it is very bad taste -to point out all the defects in his work: you -may do this at rehearsal, but not after the -work is done; you may discourage him by -touching on something that he cannot help. -A friend of mine once played a part in <cite>Box -and Cox</cite>, but on the day after the performance -he was much cast down by the comments -in one of the daily papers. “Mr. -Smith,” the critic said, “was admirable, but -he should not have made himself ridiculous -by wearing such an abnormally <em>long false</em> -nose.” As the nose happened to be Mr. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>Smith’s <em>own</em>, he was discouraged. Criticism -of music especially, unless it be intelligent, -is likely to make the critic seem ignorant. -For instance, there was on one occasion on -a musical programme a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ballade</span></i> by Chopin -in A flat major. The young woman who -played it on the piano was afterwards horrified -to find herself described as having -sung a <em>lively</em> ballad called “A Fat Major”! -The musical critic had better know what he -is talking about or be silent. No, no, gentlemen, -let us not be censorious about the -efforts of those who do their best for us; and -good-fellowship—what the French call <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">esprit -de corps</span></i>—ought to show itself in our manners. -Anybody can blame injudiciously, but -few can praise judiciously. At college boys -especially must remember that the college is -part of ourselves, and that any reproach on -our <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">alma mater</span></i> is a reproach on <em>ourselves</em>. -Its reputation is our reputation, and the -critically censorious student will find that, in -the end, it is the wiser course to dwell on -the best side of his college life. The world -hates a fault-finder: he will soon see himself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>left entirely alone with those acute perceptions -that help him to find out all that is bad -in his fellow-creatures and nothing that is -good. To be a gentleman, one must be -tolerant, and, above all, grateful.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In the world outside there are many kinds -of entertainment. We disposed of the dinner-party -in a preceding page. One’s conduct -anywhere must be guided by good -sense and the usages of the occasion. At -a concert, for instance, the main object of -each person present is to hear the music. -Anything that interferes with this is a breach -of good manners. To chatter during a song -or while a piece of music is played shows -selfish disregard for the comfort of others -and a contemptible indifference to the feelings -of the performer. Music may be a great -aid to conversation, but conversation is no -assistance to music; and people who go to a -concert do not pay for their tickets to hear -somebody in the next seat tell his private -affairs in a loud voice. There are some -human creatures who seem to imagine that -they may reveal everything possible to their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>next neighbor in a crowded theatre without -being heard by anybody else. There is an -old anecdote, but a true one, of a very fashionable -lady in Boston who attended an -organ recital in the Music Hall there. She -was supposed to be an amateur of classical -music, but her reputation was shattered by -an unlucky pause in the tones of the organ. -The music ceased unexpectedly, and the -only sound heard was that of her voice, soaring -above the silence and saying to her -friend, “We <span class='fss'>FRY</span> ours in <span class='fss'>LARD</span>.” Her reputation -was ruined in musical circles. One -goes to a concert or an opera to listen, not -to talk. It is only the vulgar, the ostentatious, -the ignorant, that distinguish themselves -in public places by a disregard of the -rights of others. To enter a concert-room -late and to interrupt a singer, to enter any -public hall while a speaker is making an address, -is to excite the disapproval of all well-bred -people. Sir Charles Thornton, for a -long time British minister at Washington, -was noted for his care in this particular: he -would stand for half an hour outside the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>door of a concert-room rather than enter -while a piece of music was in progress.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Weddings, I presume, may be put down -under the head of entertainments. The -etiquette of the assistants is very simple. A -wedding invitation requires no answer: a -card sent by mail and addressed to the senders -of the invitation, who are generally the -father and mother of the bride, is quite sufficient. -It is unnecessary to say that it is not -proper during a marriage ceremony to stand -on the seats of the pews in order to get a -good look at the happy pair. A tradition -exists to the effect that a man during a wedding -ceremony once climbed on a confessional. -It is added, too,—and I am glad of -it,—that he fell and broke his neck. But -there is no knowing what some barbarians -will do: watch them on Sundays, chewing -toothpicks, standing in ranks outside of the -churches, and believing that the ladies are -admiring their best clothes.</p> - -<p class='c013'>My list of entertainments would be incomplete -without the dancing party. St. Francis -de Sales says of dancing, that a little of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>it ought to go a great way. Society ordains -that every man shall learn to dance; but if -he can talk intelligently, society will forgive -him for not dancing. Dancing, after all, is -only a substitute for conversation; and, -properly directed, it is a very good substitute -for scandal, mean gossip, or the frivolous -chatter which makes assemblies of young -people unendurable to anybody who has not -begun to be afflicted with softening of the -brain.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Public dances—dances into which anybody -can find entrance by paying a fee—are -avoided by decent people. A young man -who has any regard for his reputation will -avoid them; and as nearly every young man -has his way to make in the world, he cannot -too soon realize how the report that he -frequents such places will hurt him; for, as -I said, there are no secrets in this world,—everything -comes out sooner or later.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is no longer the fashion for a young man -to invite a young woman to accompany him -to a dance, even at a private house. He -must first ask her mother. This European -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>fashion has—thank Heaven!—reached many -remote districts of late, where young people -hitherto ignored the existence of their parents -when social pleasures were concerned. -The young girl who doesn’t want the “old -man to know” had better be avoided. And -in the best circles young women are not -permitted to go to the theatre or to dances -without a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chaperon</span></i>,—that is, the mother or -some elderly lady is expected to accompany -the young people. This, of course, makes -trips to the theatre expensive; but the young -man who cannot afford to take an extra -aunt or mother had better avoid such amusements -until he can.</p> - -<p class='c013'>As to whether you are to take part in the -round dances or not, that will be settled by -your confessor: I have no right to dictate -on that subject. But if you are invited to a -dance, pay your respects to your hostess -<em>first</em>, and say something pleasant. You must -remember that she intends that you shall be -useful,—that you shall dance with the ladies -to whom she introduces you, and that you -shall not think of your own pleasure entirely, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>but help to give others pleasure by dancing -with the ladies who have no partners. In a -word, you must be as unselfish in this frivolous -atmosphere as on more serious occasions. -When the refreshments are served, -you must think of yourself last. If you want -to gorge yourself, you can take a yard or two -of Bologna sausage to your room after the -entertainment is over. A young man over -twenty-one should wear an evening suit and -no jewelry at a dance. Infants under that -age are supposed to be safely tucked in bed -at the time the ordinary dance begins.</p> - -<p class='c013'>At a dance or at any other entertainment -no introduction should be made thoughtlessly. -If a gentleman is presented to a -lady, it should be done only after her permission -has been asked and received. And -the form should be, “Mrs. Jones, allow me -to present Mr. Smith.” A younger man -should always be introduced to an older man, -one of inferior position to one of superior -position. If you are introducing a friend -to the mayor of your city, you ought not to -say, “Let me introduce the Mayor to you.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>On the contrary, the form should be “Mr. -Mayor, allow me to present my friend Mr. -Smith.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>On being introduced to a lady, it is not -the fashion for a man to extend his hand,—for -hand-shaking on first introduction is a -thing of the past. If the lady extends her -hand, it is proper to take it; but the pump-handle -style is no longer practised, except -perhaps in some unknown wilds of Alaska. -After a man is introduced to a lady and he -meets her again, he must not bow until she -has bowed to him. In France the man bows -first; in America and England we give that -privilege to the woman. An American -takes his hat entirely from his head when he -meets a lady; a foreigner raises it but slightly, -but he bows lower than we do. In introducing -people, we ought always to be careful to -give them their titles, and to add, if possible, -the place from which they come. If Mr. -Jones, of Chicago, is introduced to Mr. Robinson, -of New York, the subject for conversation -is already arranged. We know what -they will talk about. If the wife of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>President introduced you to him, she would -call him the President; but if you addressed -him, you would call him “Mr. President,” as -you would address the mayor of a city as -“Mr. Mayor.” Mrs. Grant was the only -President’s wife who did not give her husband -his title in introductions: she called him -simply and modestly, “Mr. Grant.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>An English bard sings:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I know a duke, well—let him pass—</div> - <div class='line'>I may not call his grace an ass,</div> - <div class='line'>Though if I did, I’d do no wrong—</div> - <div class='line'>Save to the asses and my song.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“The duke is neither wise nor good:</div> - <div class='line'>He gambles, drinks, scorns womanhood;</div> - <div class='line'>And at the age of twenty-four</div> - <div class='line'>Is worn and battered as threescore.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I know a waiter in Pall Mall,</div> - <div class='line'>Who works and waits and reasons well;</div> - <div class='line'>Is gentle, courteous, and refined,</div> - <div class='line'>And has a magnet in his mind.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“What is it makes his graceless grace</div> - <div class='line'>So like a jockey out of place?</div> - <div class='line'>What makes the waiter—tell who can—</div> - <div class='line'>The very flower of gentleman?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>“Perhaps their mothers!—God is great!</div> - <div class='line'>It can’t be accident or fate.</div> - <div class='line'>The waiter’s heart is true,—and then,</div> - <div class='line'>Good manners make our gentlemen.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span> - <h2 class='c007'>IV. What Does Not Make a Gentleman.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>We have touched on the etiquette of dress -and of entertainments; and now I beg -leave to repeat some things already said, and -to add a few others that need to be said.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man cannot afford to be slovenly -in his dress. Carelessness in dress will prejudice -people against him as completely as -a badly written letter. He will find himself -mysteriously left out in invitations. If he -applies for a position in an office or a bank, -or anywhere else, where neatness of dress is -expected, he will get the cold shoulder. A -young man who wears grease spots habitually -on the front of his coat, whose trousers are -decorated with dark shadows and the mud -of last week, whose shoes are red and rusty, -and who hangs a soiled handkerchief, like a -flag of truce, more than half out of his -pocket, will find himself barred from every -place which his ambition would spur him to -enter. You may say that dress does not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>make the man. You may call to mind Burns’ -lines to the effect that “a man’s a man for a’ -that;” a piece of silver is only a piece of -silver, worth more or less, until the United -States mint stamps it a dollar. The stamp -of your character and the manner of your -bringing up give you the value at which the -world appraises you.</p> - -<p class='c013'>I recall to mind an instance which shows -that we cannot always control our dress. -There was a boy at school who was the -shortest and the youngest among three tall -brothers. He never had any clothes of his -own. He had to wear the cast-off suits of -the other brothers, and it was no unusual -thing for his trousers to trip him up when -he tried to run, although they were fastened -well up under his shoulders. This unhappy -youth was the victim of circumstances; if he -made a bad impression, he could not help it. -But he was always neat and clean, and he -never put grease on his hair or leaned against -papered walls in order to leave his mark -there. He never saturated himself with -cologne to avoid a bath; he never chewed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>gum; he was never seen with a dirty-yellow -rivulet at either side of his lips, which flowed -from a plug of tobacco somewhere in his -gullet; and so, though he was pitied for the -eccentricities of his toilet, he was not despised.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In a country where we do not have to buy -water there is no excuse for neglecting the -bath. The average Englishman talks so -much of his bath and his tub, that one cannot -help thinking that the Order of Bath is a -late discovery in his country, although we -know it was instituted long ago. Every boy -ought to keep himself “well groomed;” to -be clean outside and in gives him a solid -respect for himself that makes others respect -him. It is like a college education: it causes -him to feel that he is any man’s equal. But -one with a sham diamond in his bosom, or -cuffs that he has to shove up his sleeves every -now and then to prevent them from showing -how dirty they are, can never feel quite like -a man.</p> - -<p class='c013'>We Americans have reason to be proud -of the decay of two arts which Charles -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>Dickens when he wrote “American Notes” -found in a flourishing condition,—the art of -swearing in public and the art of tobacco-chewing. -When Dickens made his first visit -to this country he was amazed by the skill -which Americans showed in the art of -tobacco-chewing. The “spit-box,” the spittoon, -the cuspidore,—which is supposed to -be an elegant name for a very inelegant -utensil,—seemed to him to be the most important -of American institutions. We who -have become accustomed to the cuspidore -do not realize how its constant presence -surprises foreigners. They do not understand -why the floor of every hotel should be -furnished with conveniences for spitting, because -no country except the United States -is infested by tobacco-chewers. Charles -Dickens was severe on the prevalence of the -tobacco-chewing habit. He was roundly -abused for his criticisms on our public -manners. No doubt his censure was well -founded, for the manners of Americans -have improved since. To Dickens it seemed -as if the principal American amusement -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>was tobacco-chewing. He found the American -a gloomy being, who regarded all the -refinements with dislike, and whose politeness -to women was his one redeeming -feature. Dickens admitted that a woman -might travel alone from one end of the -country to the other and receive the most -courteous attention from even the roughest -miner. And this is as true now as it was -then. There are no men in any country so -polite to women as Americans; and in no -other country on the face of the earth is the -sex of our mothers so publicly respected. -This chivalric characteristic, which Tom -Moore tells us was the most brilliant jewel -in the crown of the Irish, “When Malachi -wore the collar of gold,” is now an American -characteristic, and distinctively an American -characteristic. So sure are the ladies of every -attention, that they take the reverential attitude -of men as a matter of course. They -no longer thank us when we give up our -places in the street-car to them, or walk in -the mud to let them pass; and it is probably -regard for them that has caused the American -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>to cease to flood every public place with -vile tobacco-juice.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There was a time when the marble floors -of our largest hotels were so spotted with -this vicious fluid that their color could -not be recognized, when the atmosphere -reeked with filthy fumes, and many a man -bit off a large chunk of tobacco between -every second word. It was his method of -punctuating his talk. He expectorated when -he wanted to make a comma and bit off a -“chew” at a period; he squirted a half-pint -of amber liquid across the room for an interrogation-mark, -and struck his favorite spot -on the ceiling to mark an exclamation. But -we are not so bad as we used to be. George -Washington, whose first literary effort was -an essay on Manners, might complain that -we lack much, but he would find that the -tobacco-chewer is not so prominent a figure -in all landscapes as he formerly was.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The truth is, that American good sense is -putting an end to this dirty and disgusting -habit. There was a time when a man was -asked for a “chew” on almost every street -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>corner. But this was in the days of the -Bowery boys and of the old volunteer fire-departments, -when strange things occurred. -It is related that an English traveller riding -down Broadway, some time about the year -1852, found that the light was suddenly shut -out of his left eye. He fancied for an instant -that his optic nerves had been paralyzed. -He was relieved by the sound of an apologetic -voice coming from the opposite seat. It said: -“I didn’t intend to put that ‘chew’ into -your eye, sir. I was aiming at the window -when you bobbed your head!” And the -thoughtful expectorator gently removed the -ball of tobacco from the Englishman’s eye!</p> - -<p class='c013'>That could hardly occur now. Chewers -do not take such risks, or they aim straighter. -For a long time the typical American, as -represented in English novels or on the English -stage, chewed tobacco and whittled a -wooden nutmeg. The English have learned -only of late that every American does not -do these things.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If foreigners hate this savage practice, who -can blame them? How we should sneer and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>jeer at the English if, in ferry-boats, in horse-cars, -in public halls, pools of tobacco-juice -should be seen, and if perpetual yellow, ill-smelling -fountains sprung from men’s mouths. -How <em>Puck</em> would caricature John Bull in his -constant attitude of chewing! How filthy -and barbaric we would say the British were! -We should speak of it, in Fourth-of-July orations, -as a proof of British inferiority. But -we cannot do this, for the English do not -chew tobacco,—and some of us do.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is a habit that had better be unlearned -as soon as possible. It is happily ceasing to -be an American vice, and with it will cease -the chronic dyspepsia and many of the -stomach and throat diseases which have become -almost national. Many a man, come -to the years of discretion, bitterly regrets -that he ever learned to chew tobacco; but he -thought once that it was a manly thing, and -he learns when too late that the manly thing -would have been to avoid it. Some of you -will perhaps remember a fashion boys had—I -don’t know whether they have it now—of -getting tattooed by some expert who practised -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>the art. What pain we suffered while -a small star was picked in blue ink at the -junction of the thumb with the hand!—and -how proud we were of a blue anchor printed -indelibly on our wrists! But a day came -when we should have been glad to have -blotted out this insignia with thrice the pain. -And so the day will come when the inveterate -tobacco-chewer will wish with all his -heart that he had never been induced to put -a piece of tobacco into his mouth. It is one -of those vices which has an unpleasant sting -and which is its own punishment. It is unbecoming -to a gentleman; it violates every -rule of good manners,—the spectacle of a -young man dropping a “quid” into his -hand before he goes into dinner and trying -on the sly to wipe off the dirty stains on his -chin is enough to turn the stomach of a cannibal.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Going back to the subject of entertainments, -let me impress on you that it is your -duty when you go into society to think as -little of yourselves as possible, and to talk as -little of yourselves. If a man can sing or play -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>on any musical instrument or recite, and he is -asked to do any of these things, let him not -refuse. Young women sometimes say no in -society when they mean yes; but young men -are not justified in practising such an affectation. -It is not good taste to show that one is -anxious to sing or to play or to recite. If you -are invited out, do not begin at once by talking -about elocution, until somebody is forced -to ask you to recite; and do not hum snatches -of song until there is no escape for your -friends from the painful duty of asking you -to sing. The restless efforts of some amateurs -to get a hearing in society always brings -to mind a certain theatrical episode. There -was a young actress who thought she could -sing, and consequently she introduced a vocal -solo whenever she could. She was cast for -the principal part in a melodrama full of -tragic situations. The manager congratulated -himself that here, at least, there was no -chance for the tuneful young lady to try her -scales. But he was mistaken. The great -scene was on. A flash of lightning illumined -the stage. The actress was holding a pathetic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>conversation with her mother as the -thunder rolled. The mother suddenly fell -with a shriek, struck dead. And then the -devoted daughter said, “Aha, mee mother -is dead! Alas, I will now sing the song -she loved so much in life!” And the young -lady walked to the footlights and warbled -“Comrades.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>She <em>would</em> and she did sing, but I am -afraid the audience laughed. I offer this -authentic anecdote as a warning to young -singers that they should neither be hasty nor -reluctant in displaying their talents. A man -goes into society that he may give as well -as gain pleasure. The highest form of social -pleasure is conversation; but conversation -does not mean a monologue. Good listeners -are as highly appreciated in society as -good talkers. A good listener often gives -an impression of great wisdom which is dispelled -the moment he opens his mouth. Mr. -Gladstone was charmed by a young lady who -sat next to him at dinner; he concluded that -she was one of the most intelligent women -he had ever met, until she spoiled it all by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>saying, with effusion, “Oh, I love cabbage!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man should neither talk too much -nor too little, and he should never talk about -himself unless he is forced to. Madame -Roland, a famous Frenchwoman, who perished -during the Reign of Terror under the -guillotine, said that by listening attentively -to others she made more friends than by any -remarks of her own. “Judicious silence,” -the author of “In a Club Corner” says, “is -one of the great social virtues.” A man who -tries to be funny at all times is a social nuisance. -Two famous men suffered very much -for their tendency to be always humorous. -These were Sydney Smith and our own -lamented S. S. Cox. Sydney Smith could -not speak without exciting laughter. Once, -when he had said grace, a young lady next -to him exclaimed, “You are always so amusing!” -And S. S. Cox, one of the most serious -of men at heart and the cleverest in head, -never attained the place in politics he ought -to have gained because he was supposed to -be always in fun. Jokes are charming things -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>in a limited circle, but no gentleman nowadays -indulges in those practical jokes which -we have heard of. It is not considered a -delicate compliment to pull a chair away just -as anybody is about to sit down; and the -young person who jabs acquaintances in the -ribs, to make them laugh at his delightful -sayings, is not rapturously welcomed in quiet -families.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man should not make a practice -of using slang, and he should never use it in -the presence of ladies. To advise a friend -to “shut his face” or to “come off the -perch” may sound “smart,” but it is vulgar, -and is fatal to those ambitious young men -who feel that their success in life depends -on the good opinion of cultivated people. -Moreover, this habitual slang is likely to crop -out at the most inopportune times. Mr. -Sankey, of the evangelizing firm of Moody -and Sankey, at a camp-meeting once asked -a devout young man if he loved the Lord. -There was profound silence until the young -man, who thought in slang, answered in a -loud voice, “You bet!”</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>Slang is in bad taste; and the slang we -borrow from the English is the worst of all—the -repetition of “don’t you know?” for -instance. “I’m going to town, don’t you -know, and if I see your friends, don’t you -know, I’ll tell them you were asking for -them, don’t you know,—oh, yes, I shall, -don’t you know.” Imagine an American -so idiotic as not only to imitate the vulgarest -Cockney slang, but to do it in the vulgarest -Cockney accent! There was a woman -who at a dinner said, “Have some soup, -don’t you know; it’s not half nawsty, don’t -you know.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>I must remind you again not to use, in -letter-writing, tinted or ornamented paper. -Let it be white and, by all means, unruled; -your envelope may be either oblong or -square, but the square form is preferable. If -you have time and want to follow the present -fashion, and also to pay a compliment of -extreme carefulness to the person to whom -you are writing, close your letters with red -sealing-wax. Some old-fashioned people -look on postal cards as vulgar. However, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>is not well to write family secrets on these -cheap forms. And if any man owes you -money, do not ask him for it on a postal -card: it is against a more forcible law than -those that make etiquette. Postal cards are -not to be used except on business. Be sure -to write the name of the person to whom -the letter is addressed on the last page of -the letter. But if you begin a letter with -“Dear Mr. Smith,” you need not write Mr. -Smith’s name again at the end of the letter. -Buy good paper and envelopes. And do not -write on old scraps of paper when you write -home. Nothing is too good for your father -and mother; they may not say much about -it, but every little attention from you brightens -their lives and helps towards paying that -debt of gratitude to them which you can -never fully discharge.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A young man has asked me to say something -about the etiquette of cards and calls. -A man, under the American code of politeness, -need not make many calls. If he is -invited to an entertainment of any kind, he -should go to the house of his host to call or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>leave his card. If it be his first call, he -must leave a card for each grown-up member -of the family. After that he need leave -only one card. The old fashion of turning -down the corners of cards is gone -out. A man’s card should be very -small, <em>not</em> gilt-edged; it should never be -printed, but always engraved or written, -with the address in the left-hand lower -corner. A man may write his own cards. -In that case he must not put “Mr.” before -his name. But if he has them engraved, -the present usage demands that “Mr.” must -appear before his name. If he has been at -a party of any kind, he must call within a -week after it, or he can send his card with -his mother or sister, if they should happen -to be calling at his host’s within that time. -A man’s card, like his note-paper, ought to -be as simple as possible. Secretary Bayard’s -cards always bore the plain inscription, “Mr. -Bayard.” Sciolists and pretenders of all -kinds put a great number of titles on their -cards. Corn-cutters and spiritists and quacks -of all sorts are always sure to print “Professor” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>before their names, but men who -have a right to the title never do it. Be -sure, then, to have a neat, plain card, well -engraved. It costs very little to have a -plate made by a good stationery firm; and a -neat, elegant card, like a well-written letter, -is a good introduction. It symbolizes the -man. Daniel Webster’s card was simply -“Mr. Webster,” and it expressed the man’s -hatred for all pretence. A gentleman should -never call on a young lady without asking -for her mother or her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chaperon</span></i>. And he -should never leave a card for her without -leaving one for her mother. It will not do -to send a card by mail after one has been -asked to dinner. A personal visit must be -made and a card left. In calling on the sons -or daughters of a family, cards should be -left for the father and mother.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It may surprise some young men to find -that in the great world fathers and mothers -are so much considered. I know that there -are some boys at school who write home on -any odd, soiled paper they can find, and who -write only when they want something or feel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>like grumbling. Their letters run something -like this:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Father</span>: The weather is bad. I am -not well this evening, hoping to find you the same. -Grub as usual. Please send me five dollars.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c016'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Yours,” etc.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>And, of course, their fathers and mothers -go down on their knees at once and thank -Heaven for such dutiful and clever boys—that -is, if you boys have brought them up -properly. But so many of our parents have -been so badly brought up. They really do -not see how superior their children are to -them. They actually fancy that they know -more of the world than a boy of sixteen or -seventeen; and they occasionally insist on -being obeyed. It would be a pleasant thing -to form a new society among you—a society -for the proper bringing up of fathers and -mothers. At present there are some parents -who really refuse to be the slaves of their -children, or to take their advice. This is -unreasonable, I know, but it is true. Think -how frightful it is for a young man of spirit -to be kept at college during the best years -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>of his life, when he might be learning new -clog-dance steps on street-corners or reading -detective stories all day long!</p> - -<p class='c013'>It would be hard to change things now; -and the fact remains that in good society -fathers and mothers are considered before -their children. The man who lacks reverence -for his parents, who shows irritation to -them, who pains them by his grumbling and -fault-finding, is no gentleman. He is what -the English call a cad. He is the most contemptible -of God’s creatures. Let me sum -up in the famous lines which you all ought -to know by heart; they are the words that -Shakspere puts into the mouth of Polonius -when his son Laertes is about to depart into -the great world:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>“Give thy thoughts no <em>tongue</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>Nor any unproportioned <em>thought</em> his <span class='fss'>ACT</span>.</div> - <div class='line'>Be thou familiar, but by no means <em>vulgar</em>:</div> - <div class='line'>The friends thou hast, and their adoption <span class='fss'>TRIED</span>,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Grapple</span> them to <span class='fss'>THY SOUL</span> with hooks of <span class='fss'>STEEL</span>;</div> - <div class='line'>But do not dull thy <em>palm</em> with <em>entertainment</em></div> - <div class='line'>Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware</div> - <div class='line'>Of <em>entrance</em> to a quarrel, but, being in,</div> - <div class='line'>Bear it that the opposer may <span class='fss'>BEWARE</span> of <em>thee</em>.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>Give <em>every</em> man thine <span class='fss'>EAR</span>, but <em>few</em> thy <span class='fss'>VOICE</span>;</div> - <div class='line'>Take <em>each</em> man’s censure, but reserve <em>thy</em> judgment.</div> - <div class='line'>Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,</div> - <div class='line'>But not expressed in <em>fancy</em>; rich, not <em>gaudy</em>;</div> - <div class='line'>For the apparel oft proclaims the <span class='fss'>MAN</span>.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>.tb</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Neither a borrower nor a <span class='fss'>LENDER</span> be;</div> - <div class='line'>For loan oft loses both <em>itself</em> and <em>friend</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>And borrowing <em>dulls</em> the edge of husbandry.</div> - <div class='line'>This, above all: to thine <em>own</em> self be <span class='fss'>TRUE</span>;</div> - <div class='line'>And it must <em>follow</em>, as the night the <em>day</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>Thou canst not <em>then</em> be <span class='fss'>FALSE</span> to <span class='fss'>ANY MAN</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span> - <h2 class='c007'>V. How to Express One’s Thoughts.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>Mr. Frederick Harrison, a man of -letters, whose literary judgments are -as right as his philosophical judgments are -wrong, tells us that the making of many -books and the reading of periodical sheets -obscure the perception and benumb the -mind. “The incessant accumulation of fresh -books must hinder any real knowledge of -the old; for the multiplicity of volumes becomes -a bar upon our use of any. In literature -especially does it hold that we cannot -see the wood for the trees.” I am not about -to advise you to add to the number of useless -leaves which hide the forms of noble -trees; but, if your resolve to write outlives -the work of preparation, you may be able to -give the world a new classic, or, at least, -something that will cheer and elevate. This -preparation is rigid. Two important qualities -of it must be keen observation and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>careful reading. It is a pity that an old dialogue -on “Eyes or No Eyes” is no longer -included in the reading-books for children. -The modern book-makers have improved it -out of existence; nevertheless, it taught a -good lesson. It describes the experience of -two boys on a country road. Common -things are about them,—wild flowers, weeds, -a ditch,—but one discovers many hidden -things by the power of observation, while -the other sees nothing but the outside of the -common things. To write well one must -have eyes and see. To be observant it is -not necessary that one should be critical in -the sense of fault-finding. Keen observation -and charitable toleration ought to go together. -We may see the peculiarities of -those around us and be amused by them; -but we shall never be able to write anything -about character worth writing unless we go -deeper and pierce through the crust which -hides from us the hidden meanings of life. -How tired would we become of Dickens if -he had confined himself to pictures of surface -characteristics! If we weary of him, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>is because Mr. Samuel Weller is so constantly -dropping his <em>w</em>’s, and Sairey Gamp so constantly -talking of Mrs. Harris. If we find -interest and refreshment in him now, it is -because he went deeper than the thousand -and one little habits with which he distinguishes -his personages.</p> - -<p class='c013'>To write, then, we must acquire the art of -observing in a broad and intelligent spirit. -Nature will hang the East and West with -gorgeous tapestry in vain if we do not see it. -And many times we shall judge rashly and -harshly if we do not learn to detect the trueheartedness -that hides behind the face which -seems cold to the unobservant. We are -indeed blind when we fail to know that an -angel has passed until another has told us of -his passing.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Apparently there is not much to think of -the wrinkled hand of the old woman who -crosses your path in the street. You catch -a glimpse of it as she carries her bundle in -that hand on her way from work in the twilight. -Perhaps you pass on and think of it -no more. Perhaps you note the knotted, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>purple veins standing out from the toil-reddened -surface, and then your eyes catch at a -glance the wrinkled face on which are written -the traces of trials, self-sacrifice, and -patience. It is hard to believe that those -hands were once soft and dimpled childish -hands, and that face bright with happy -smiles. The story of her life is the story of -many lives from day to day. Those coarse, -ungloved, wrinkled hands will seem vulgar -to you only if you have never learned to -observe and think. They may suggest a -noble story or poem to you, if you take their -meaning rightly. Life, every-day life, is full -of the suggestions of great things for those -who have learned to look and to observe.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Mr. Harrison, from whom I have quoted -already, puts his finger on a fault which -must inevitably destroy all power of good -literary production. It is a common fault, -and the antidote for it is the cultivation of -the art of careful reading. “A habit of reading -idly,” Mr. Harrison says, “debilitates -and corrupts the mind for all wholesome -reading; the habit of reading wisely is one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>of the most difficult to acquire, needing -strong resolution and infinite pains; and -reading for mere reading’s sake, instead of -for the sake of the good we gain from reading, -is one of the worst and commonest and -most unwholesome habits we have.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>In order to write well, one must read well—one -must read a few good books—and -never idle over newspapers. Newspapers -have become necessities, and grow larger each -year. But the larger they are the more -deleterious they are. The modern newspaper -lies one day and corrects its lies, adding, -however, a batch of new ones, on the day -after. There are a few newspapers which -have literary value, though even they, mirroring -the passing day, have some of its faults. -As a rule, avoid newspapers. They will help -you to fritter away precious time; they will -spoil your style in the same way that a -slovenly talker, with whom you associate -constantly, will spoil your talk; for newspapers -are generally written in a hurry, and -hurried literary work, unless by a master-hand, -is never good work. Nevertheless, in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>our country, the newspapers absorb a great -quantity of literary matter which would, -were there no newspapers, never see the -light.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Literature considered as a profession includes -what is known as journalism,—not -perhaps reportorial work, but the writing of -leaders, book reviews, theatrical notices, and -other articles which require a light touch, -tact, and careful practice, but which do not -always have those qualities. A writer lately -said: “Literature has become a trade, and -finance a profession.” This is hardly true; -but some authors have come to look on their -profession as a trade, and to value it principally -for the money it brings. Anthony -Trollope, for instance, whose novels are still -popular, set himself to his work as to a task; -he wrote so many words for so much money -daily. This may account for the woodenness -of his literary productions. In the pursuit -of art, money should not be the first consideration, -although it should not be left entirely -out of consideration; for the artist should live -by his art, the musician by his music, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>author by his books. Literature, then, should -be a vocation as well as an avocation.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Literature, in spite of the many stories -about the poverty of writers, has, in our English-speaking -countries, been on the whole a -fairly well-paid profession. Chaucer was by -no means a pauper; Shakspere retired at a -comparatively early age to houses and lands -earned by his pen in the pleasant town of -Stratford. Pope earned nearly fifty thousand -dollars by his translations or, rather, -paraphrases of Homer. Goldsmith, though -always poor through his own generosity and -extravagance, earned what in our days would -be held to be a handsome competence. Sir -Walter Scott made enormous sums which he -spent royally on his magnificent castle of -Abbotsford. Charles Dickens earned enough -to make him rich, and our modern writers, -though less in genius, are not less in their -power of securing the hire of which they are -more than worthy. Mr. Howells has had at -least ten thousand dollars a year for permitting -his serial stories to be printed in the -publications of Harper & Brothers. Mr. Will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>Carleton, the author of “Farm Ballads,” has -no doubt an equal amount from his copyrights. -Mrs. Hodgson Burnett, the author -of “Little Lord Fauntleroy,” easily commands -eight thousand dollars for the copyright -of a novel. So you see that the picture -often presented to us of the haggard author -shivering over his tallow candle in a garret -is somewhat exaggerated.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But none of these authors attained success -without long care given to art. They all -had their early struggles. Mrs. Burnett, for -instance, was a very brave and hard-working -young girl; she was poor; her only hope in -life was her education; she used it to advantage -and by constant practice in literary -work. The means of her success was the -capacity for taking pains. It is the means -of all success in life. And any man or -woman who expects to adopt literature as a -profession must <em>see well, read well, and take -infinite pains</em>. Probably Mr. Howells and -Mrs. Burnett had many MSS. rejected by -the editors. Probably, like many young -authors, each day brought back an article -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>which had cost them many weary hours,—for -literary work is the most nerve-wearying -and brain-wearying of all work—with the -legend, “Returned with thanks.” Still they -kept on taking infinite pains.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Lord Byron awoke one morning and found -himself famous. But that first morning of -fame had cost much study, much thought, -and, no doubt, periods of despondency in -which he almost resolved not to write at -all. Poetry does not gush from the poet, -like fire out of a Roman candle when you -light it. Of all species of literary composition, -poetry requires more exquisite care -than any other. A sonnet which has not -been written and rewritten twenty times may -be esteemed as worthless. To-day no modern -poem has a right to be printed unless it be -technically perfect. It seems a sacrilege to -speak of poetry as a profession; it ought to -be a vocation only, and the poet ought not -only to be made by infinite pains taken with -himself, but born. As to the rewards of extreme -fineness in the expression of poetry, I -have heard that Longfellow received one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>thousand dollars for his comparatively short -poem of “Keramos,” and that Tennyson -had a guinea a line. But we shall leave out -poetry in talking of filthy lucre, and consider -literature as represented by journalism, in -which there is very little poetry.</p> - -<p class='c013'>I did not intend to touch on journalism, -as the work of making newspapers is sometimes -called, but I have been lately asked to -give my opinion as to whether journalism is a -good preparation for the pursuit of literature. -Perhaps the best way to do this would be to -give the experiences of a young journalist -first.</p> - -<p class='c013'>I imagine a young person who had written -at least twenty compositions; some on -“Gratitude,” one on “Ambition,” one on -“The History of a Pin,” and a grand poem -on the Southern Confederacy in five cantos. -He had been prepared for the pursuit of literature -by being made to write a composition -every Friday. These compositions were -read aloud in his class. What beautiful sentiments -were uttered on those Fridays! How -everybody thrilled when young Strephon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>compared Ireland to “that prairie-grass -which smells sweeter the more it is trodden -on”! He had never seen such grass; he -would not have recognized it if he had seen -it; but he had read about it, and when a -cruel scientific instructor asked him to give -the botanical name, he turned away in disgust. -His finest feelings were outraged. -This, however, did not prevent the simile of -the prairie-grass of unknown genus from cantering -through all the compositions of the -other members of the class for many succeeding -weeks, until the professor got into a -habit of asking, when a boy rose to read his -essay: “Is there prairie-grass in it?” If the -essayist said yes, he was made to sit down -and severely reprimanded. Teachers were -very cruel in those days.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There was another lovely simile ruthlessly -cut down in its middle age—pardon me if -I digress and pour out my wrongs to you; -I know you can appreciate them. A boy -of genius once said that “Charity, like an -eternal flame, cheers, but not inebriates.” -After that inspired utterance, charity, like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>an eternal flame, cheered, but not inebriated, -the composition of every other writer, until -the same cruel hand put it out. In those -days we knew a good thing when we saw it, -and, if it saved trouble, we appreciated it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Somewhat later the young person attained -a position in the office of an illustrated paper. -It was a newspaper which was so fearful that -its foreign letters should be incorrect that it -always had them written at home. The -young gentleman whose desk was next to -that of your obedient servant wrote the Paris, -Dublin, and New York letters. The correspondent -from Rome and Constantinople, -who also did the market reports at home, -had some trouble with his spelling occasionally, -and made a very old gentleman in the -corner indignant by asking him whether -“pecuniary” was spelled with a “c” or a “q,” -and similar questions. This old gentleman -wrote the fashion column, and signed himself -“Mabel Evangeline.” He sometimes made -mistakes about the fashions, but they were -very naturally blamed on the printers. To -your obedient servant fell the agricultural -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>and the religious columns. All went well, -for the prairie-grass was kept out of the -agricultural column, though some strange -things went in—all went well until he copied -out of a paper a receipt for making hens lay. -He did not know then that it was a comic -paper, and that the friend who wrote it was -only in fun. The hens of several subscribers -lay down and died. There was trouble in -the office, and the agricultural department -was taken from him and given to “Mabel -Evangeline,” who later came to grief by describing -an immense peanut-tree which was -said to grow in Massachusetts.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Your obedient servant was asked to write -leaders on current subjects. How joyfully -he went to work! Here was a chance to introduce -the prairie-grass and the “eternal -flame.” With a happy face he took his “copy” -to the managing editor. Why did that great -man frown as he read: “If we compare -Dante with Milton, we find that the great -Florentine sage was like that prairie-grass -which—” “Do you call this a current subject?” -he demanded. “It will not do. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>Where’s the other one?” Your obedient -servant, in fear and trembling, gave him the -other slips. He began: “The geocentric -movement, like that eternal flame which -cheers, but—” He paused. “When I asked,” -he said, in an awful voice—“when I asked -you for current subjects, I wanted an editorial -on the fight in the Fourth Ward and a -paragraph on the sudden rise in lard. Do -you understand?”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Dante and the geocentric movement, the -prairie-grass and the eternal flame were -crushed. The wise young person learned -to adapt himself to the ways of newspaper -offices, and all went well again, until -he attempted high art. This newspaper was -young and not very rich; therefore economy -had to be used in the matter of illustrations. -The great man, its editor, had a habit of -buying second-hand pictures—perhaps it was -not to save money, but because he loved the -old masters,—and it became the duty of the -present writer, who was then a young person, -and who is now your obedient servant, -to write articles to suit the pictures. For -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>instance, if a scene in Madrid had been -bought, the present writer wrote about -Madrid. It was easy, for he had an encyclopædia -in the office; but if anybody had borrowed -the volume containing “M” we always -called Madrid by some other name, for -“Mabel Evangeline,” who said he had travelled, -said foreign cities looked pretty much -alike. “Mabel Evangeline,” who sometimes, -I am afraid, drank too much beer and mixed -up things, was not to be relied on, for he put -in a picture of Rome, N. Y., for Rome, Italy, -and brought the paper into contempt. Still, -I think this would not have made so much -difference, if he had not labelled a picture of -an actress in a very big hat and a very low-cut -gown, “Home from a convent school.” -He was discharged after this, and the present -writer asked to perform his functions. -Nothing unpleasant would have happened, if -a picture had not been sent in one day in a -hurry. It was a dim picture. It seemed to -represent a tall woman and a ghost. The -present writer named it “Lady Macbeth and -the Ghost of Banquo,” and spun out a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>graphic description of the artist’s meaning. -Next day when the paper came out, the picture -was “The Goddess of Liberty crowning -Abraham Lincoln.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>It was a mistake; but who does not make -mistakes? Who ever saw the Goddess of -Liberty, anyhow? If you heard the way -that editor talked to the promising young -journalist, you would have thought he was -personally acquainted with both Lady Macbeth -and the Goddess of Liberty, and that -they had not succeeded in teaching him good -manners. It is sad to think that mere trifles -will often cause thoughtless people to lose -their tempers.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The writing for newspapers is a good introduction -to the profession of literature, if -the aspirant can study, can read good books -when not at work, can still take pains in spite -of haste, and cultivate accuracy of practice. -The best way to learn to write is to write. -One engaged in supplying newspapers with -“copy” <em>must</em> write. If he can keep a strict -eye on his style—if he can avoid slang, -“smart” colloquialism, he will find that the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>necessity for conciseness and the little time -allowed for hunting for the right word for -the right place will help him in attaining -ease and aptness of expression.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The first difficulty the unpractised writer -has to overcome is a lack of the right words. -Words are repeated, and other words that -are wanted to express some nice distinction -of meaning will not come. Constant reference -to a good dictionary or a book of synonyms -is the surest remedy for this; and if -the writer will refuse to use any word that -does not express <em>exactly</em> what he means, he -will make steady advance in the power of expression. -Words that burn do not come at -first. They are sought and found. Tennyson, -old as he was, polished his early poems, -hoping to make them perfect before he died. -Pope’s lines, which seem so easy, so smooth, -which seem to say in three or four words -what we have been trying to say all our lives -in ten or eleven, were turned and re-turned, -carved and re-carved, cut and re-cut with all -the scrupulousness of a sculptor curving a -Grecian nose on his statue:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>“A little learning is a dangerous thing;</div> - <div class='line'>Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>That is easy reading. It seems as easy as -making an egg stand on end, or as putting -an apple into a dumpling—when you know -how. It is easy because it was so hard; it is -easy because Pope took infinite pains to -make it so. Had he put less labor into it, -he would have failed to make it live. It is -true that a thing is worth just as much as we -put into it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Although the desire to write is often kindled -by much reading, the power of writing -is often paralyzed by the discovery that the -reading has been of the wrong kind. Again, -the tyro who has read little and that little unsystematically -is tempted to lay down his pen -in despair. Lord Bacon said that “reading -maketh a full man, writing a ready man;” -from which we may conclude that he who -reads may best utilize his stock of knowledge -by learning to write. But he must first read, -no matter how keen his observation may be -or how original his thoughts are; for a good -style does not come by nature. It must be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>the expression of temperament as well as -thought; but it must have acquired clearness -and elegance, which are due to the construction -of sentences in the good company -of great authors. To write, you must read, -and be careful what you read; and you must -read critically. To read a play of Shakspere’s -only for the story is to degrade -Shakspere to the level of the railway novel. -It is better to have read the trial scene in -“The Merchant of Venice” critically, missing -no shade in Portia’s character or speech, -no expression of Shylock’s, than to have -read all Shakspere carelessly. To make a -specialty of literature, one must be, above -all, thorough. The writings that live have a -thousand fine points in them unseen of the -casual reader, and, like the carvings mentioned -in Miss Donnelly’s fine poem, “Unseen, -yet Seen,” known only to God. Take -ten lines of any great writer, examine them -closely with the aid of all the critical power -you have, and then you will see that simplicity -in literature is produced by the art which -conceals art. That style which is easiest to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>read is the hardest to write. Genius has been -defined as the capacity for taking infinite -pains.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is a passage in “Ben Hur” which -seems to me particularly applicable to our -subject. You remember, in the chariot-race, -where Ben Hur’s cruel experience in the -galleys serves him so well. He would not -have had the strength of hand or the steadiness -of posture, were it not for the work with -the oars and the constant necessity of standing -on a deck which was even more unsteady -than the swaying chariot. “All experience,” -says the author, “is useful.” This is especially -true for the writer. One can hardly -write a page without feeling how little one -knows; and if the great aim of knowledge -be to attain that consciousness, the writer -sooner attains it than other men.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Everything, from the pink tinge in a seashell -to the varying tints of an approaching -thunder-cloud, from an old farmer’s talk of -crops and weather to your lesson in geology -and astronomy, will help you. Do not -imagine that science and literature are opponents. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>For myself, I would not permit anybody -who did not know at least the rudiments -of botany and geology to begin the serious -study of literature. If Coleridge felt the -need of attending a series of geological lectures -late in life, in order to add to his power -of making new metaphors and similes, how -much greater is our necessity for adding to -our knowledge of the phenomena of nature, -that we may use our knowledge to the greater -glory of God! Literature is the reflection of -life, and literature ought to be the crystallization -of all knowledge.</p> - -<p class='c013'>You will doubtless find that what you most -need in the beginning is to know more about -words and about books. But this vacuum -can be filled by earnest thought and serious -application, system, and thoroughness. It -takes you a long time to play a mazurka of -Chopin’s well. It takes you a long time even -to learn compositions less important. A -young woman sits many months before a -piano before she learns to drag “Home, -Sweet Home!” through the eye of a needle; -and then to flatten out again <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">con expressione</span></i>; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>and then to chase it up to the last key until it -seems to be lost in a still, small protest; and -then to bring it to life and send it thundering -up and down, as if it were chased by -lightning. How easy it all seems, and how -delighted we are when our old friend, “Home, -Sweet Home!” appears again in its original -form! But there was a time when it was not -easy—a time when the counting of one and -two and three was not easy. So it is with -the art of writing. It is not easy in the beginning. -It may be easy to make grandiloquent -similes about “prairie-grass” and the -“eternal light which cheers,” etc.; but that -is just like beginning to play snatches of a -grand march before one knows the scales.</p> - -<p class='c013'>To begin to write well, one must cut off -all the useless leaves that obscure the fruit, -which is the thought, and keep the sun from -it. Figures should be used sparingly. One -metaphor that blazes at the climax of an -article after many pages of simplicity is -worth half a hundred scattered wherever -they happen to fall. It is a white diamond -as compared to a handful of garnets.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VI. Letter-writing.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>There is no art so important in the conduct -of our modern life, after the art of -conversation, as the art of letter-writing. A -young man who shows a good education and -careful training in his letters puts his foot on -the first round of the ladder of success. If, -in addition to this, he can acquire early in -life the power of expressing himself easily -and gracefully, he can get what he wants in -eight cases out of ten. Very few people indeed -can resist a cleverly written letter.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In the old times, when there was no Civil -Service and Congressmen made their appointments -to West Point at their own sweet -will, an applicant’s fate was often decided by -his letters. There is a story told of Thaddeus -Stevens, a famous statesman of thirty -years ago, that he once rejected an applicant -for admission to the military school. This -applicant met him one day in a corridor of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>the Capitol and remonstrated violently. -“Your favoritism is marked, Mr. Stevens,” -he said; “you have blasted my career from -mere party prejudice.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>The legislator retorted, “I would not give -an appointment to any blasted fool who -spells ‘until’ with two ‘ll’s’ and ‘till’ with -one.” And the disappointed aspirant went -home to look into his dictionary.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Such trifles as this make the sum of life. -A man’s letter is to most educated people an -index of the man himself. His card is -looked on in the same light in polite society. -But a man’s letter is more important than -his visiting-card, though the character of the -latter cannot be altogether neglected.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is better to be too exquisite in your -carefulness about your letters than in the -slightest degree careless. The art of letter-writing -comes from knowledge and constant -practice.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Your letters, now, ought to be careful works -of art. Intelligent—remember I say <em>intelligent</em>—care -is the basis of all perfection; and -perfection in small things means success in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>great. In our world the specialist, the man -who does at least one thing as well as he -can, is sure to succeed; and so overcrowded -are the avenues to success becoming that a -man to succeed must be a specialist and -know how to do at least one thing better than -his fellow-men.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If you happen to have a rich father, you -may say, “It does not make much difference; -I shall have an easy time of it all my -life. I can spell ‘applicant’ with two ‘c’s’ -if I like and it will not make any difference.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>This is a very foolish idea. The richer -you are, the greater will be your responsibilities, -the more will you be criticised and -found fault with, and you will find it will -take all your ability to keep together or to -spend wisely what your father has acquired. -The late John Jacob Astor worked harder -than any of his clerks; in the street he -looked careworn and preoccupied; and he -often lamented that poor men did not know -how hard it was to be rich. His hearers -often felt that they would like to exchange -hardships with him. But he never, in spite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>of his sorrows, gave them a chance. It is -true, however, that a rich man needs careful -education even more than a poor man. And -even politicians have to spell decently. You -have perhaps heard of the man who announced -in a letter that he was a “g-r-a-t-e-r -man than Grant.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Usage decrees certain forms in the writing -of letters; and the knowledge and practice -of these forms are absolutely necessary. -For instance, one must be very particular to -give each man his title. Although we Americans -are supposed to despise titles, the frequency -with which they are borrowed in this -country shows that we are not free from a -weakness for them. You have perhaps -heard the old story of the man who entered -a country tavern in Kentucky and -called out to a friend, “Major!” Twenty -majors at once arose.</p> - -<p class='c013'>You will find that if you desire to keep -the regard of your friends you must be careful -in letter-writing to give each man his title. -Every man over twenty-one years of age is -“Esquire” in this country. Plain “Mr.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>will do for young people—except the youngest -“juniors,” who are only “Masters;” -everybody else, from the lawyer, who is -rightly entitled to “Esquire,” to the hod-carrier, -must have that title affixed to his -name, or he feels that the man who writes to -him is guilty of a disrespect. A member of -Congress, of the Senate of the United States, -of the State legislatures, has “Honorable” -prefixed to his Christian name, and he does -not like you to forget it. But a member of -the British Parliament is never called “Honorable.” -When Mr. Parnell and Mr. William -O’Brien, both members of Parliament, were -here, this rule was not observed, and they -found themselves titled, much to their amazement, -“Honorable.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Except in business letters, it is better not -to abbreviate anything. Do not write “Jno.” -for “John,” or “Wm.” for “William.” -“Mister” is always shortened into “Mr.,” -and “Mistress” into “Mrs.,” which custom -pronounces “Missus.” If one is addressing -an archbishop, one writes, “The Most Reverend -Archbishop;” a bishop, “The Right -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>Reverend;” and a priest, “The Reverend”—always -“The Reverend,” never “Rev.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Titles such as “A.M.,” “B.A.,” “LL.D.,” -are not generally put on the envelopes of -letters, unless the business of the writer has -something to do with the scholarly position -of the person addressed. If, for instance, I -write to a Doctor of Laws and Letters, asking -him to dinner, I do not put LL.D. after his -name; but if I am asking him to tell me -something about Greek accents, or to solve -a question of literature, I, of course, write -his title after his name.</p> - -<p class='c013'>To put one’s knife into one’s mouth means -social exile; there is only one other infraction -of social rules considered more damning, -and this is the writing of an anonymous letter. -It is understood, in good society, that -a man who would write a letter which he is -afraid to sign with his own name would lie -or steal. And I believe he would. If he -happen to be found out—and there are no -secrets in this world—he will be cut dead by -every man and woman for whom he has any -respect. If he belong to a decent club, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>club will drop him, and he will be blackballed -by every club he tries to enter. By the very -act of writing such a letter he brands himself -a coward. And if the letter be a malicious -one, he confesses himself in every line of it a -scoundrel. A man capable of such a thing -shows it in his face, above all in his eyes, for -nature cannot keep such a secret.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Another sin against good manners, which -young people sometimes thoughtlessly commit, -is the writing to people whom they do -not know. This is merely an impertinence; -it is not a crime; the persons that get such -letters simply look on the senders as fools, -not as cowards or scoundrels.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Usage at the present time decrees that all -social letters should be written on <em>unruled</em> -paper, and that, if possible, the envelope -should be square. An oblong envelope will -do, but a square one is considered to be the -better of the two; the paper should be folded -to fit under. The envelope and the paper -should always be as good as you can buy. -Money is never wasted on excellent paper -and envelopes. It is one of the marks of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>a gentleman to have his paper and envelopes -as spotless and well made as his collar and -cuffs.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A man ought never to use colored paper, -or paper with a monogram or a crest or coat-of-arms -on it. If you happen to have a coat-of-arms -or a crest, keep it at home; anybody -in this country who wants it can -get it. White paper and black ink should -be used by men; leave the flowers and the -monograms and the pink, blue, and black -paper to the ladies. It is just as much out -of place for one of us to write on pink paper -as to wear a bracelet.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Bad spelling is a social crime and a business -crime, too. No business house will -employ in any important position a young -man who spells badly. He may become a -porter or a janitor, but he can never rise -above that if he cannot spell.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In social letters or notes, one misspelled -word is like a discord in music. It is as if the -big drum were to come in at the wrong time -and spoil a cornet solo, or a careless stroke -ruin a fine regatta. When dictionaries are so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>numerous, bad spelling is unpardonable, and -it is seldom pardoned.</p> - -<p class='c013'>One of the worst possible breaches of good -manners is to write a careless letter to any -one to whom you owe affection and respect. -Nothing is too good for your father or mother—nothing -on this earth. When you begin -to think otherwise, you may be certain that -<em>you</em> are growing unworthy of affection and -respect.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is a story told of one of the greatest -soldiers that this country ever knew, who, -though he happened to fight against us, deserves -our most respectful homage; this brave -soldier was the Confederate General Sidney -Johnston. A soldier had been arrested as a -traitor on the eve of a battle. The testimony -was against him; there was no time to sift -it, and General Johnston ordered him to be -shot before the assembled army. A comrade -who believed in him, but who had no evidence -in his favor, made a last appeal. When -the soldier was arrested, he had been in the -act of writing a letter to his father. He -begged this comrade to secure it and send it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>home, giving him permission to read it. The -comrade read it and took it to General Johnston. -It was an honest, loving letter such as -a good son would write to a kind father. It -was carefully written. General Johnston read -it, expecting to find some sign of treason -there. He read it twice; and then he said -to the comrade: “Why did you bring this -to me?”</p> - -<p class='c013'>“To show you, general,” the soldier answered, -“that a man who could write such a -letter to his father on the eve of battle could -not have the heart of a traitor.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>“You are right,” General Johnston said, -after a pause; “let the man be released.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>He was released, and later it was discovered -that he had been wrongly suspected. -He was killed in that battle. Such a son -would rather have died a hundred times than -have such a father know that he had been -shot or hanged as a traitor.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The letters we write home ought to be as -carefully written as possible. <em>There is nothing -too good for your father or mother.</em> They -may not always tell you so; but you may be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>sure that a well-written and affectionate letter -from you brightens life very much for -them. Have you ever seen a father who had -a boy at school draw from his pocket a son’s -letter and show it to his friends with eyes -glistening with pleasure? I have. “There’s -a boy for you!” he says. “There is a manly, -cheerful letter written to <em>me</em>, sir, and written -as well as any man in this country can -write it!” If you have ever seen a father in -that proud and happy mood, you know how -your father feels when you treat him with -the consideration which is his due. Your -mothers treasure your letters and give them -a value they do not, I am afraid, often really -possess. If you desire to appear well before -the world, begin by correcting and improving -yourself at school and out of school. A -young man who writes a slovenly letter to his -parents will probably drop into carelessness -when he writes formal letters to people outside -his domestic circle.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is a good rule to answer every letter -during the week of its receipt. It is as rude -to refuse to answer a question politely put as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>to leave a letter without an answer—provided -the writer of the letter is a person you -know.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Some young people are capable of addressing -the President as “Dear Friend,” or of -doing what, according to a certain authority, -a young person did in Baltimore. This uncouth -young person was presented to Cardinal -Gibbons, Archbishop of Baltimore. -“Hello, Arch.!” he said—and I fear that his -friends who were present wished that he -were dead.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“Dear Sir” is always a proper form to begin -a letter with to anybody older than ourselves, -or to anybody we do not know intimately. -And if we begin by “Dear Sir,” we -should not end with “Yours most affectionately.” -“Yours respectfully” or “Yours -sincerely” would be the better form. To -end a letter with “Yours, etc.,” is justly considered -in the worst possible taste; and it is -almost as bad as to begin a letter with -“Friend Jones,” or “Friend Smith,” or -“Friend John,” or “Tom.” The Quakers -address one another as “friend;” we do not. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Begin with “Dear John” or “Dear Tom,” -or even “Dear Jones” or “Dear Brown,” -if you like, but do not use the prefix “friend.” -In writing to an entire stranger, one may use -the third person, or begin with “Sir” or -“Madam.” Suppose, for instance, you want -some information from a librarian you do -not know personally. You may write in this -way:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“Mr. Berry would be much obliged to Mr. Bibliophile -for Dr. St. George Mivart’s book on ‘The -Cat,’ which he will return as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p class='c015'>Or Mr. Berry would say:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Sir</span>: I should be much obliged if you would lend -me Dr. St. George Mivart’s book on ‘The Cat.’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c016'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Yours respectfully.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>No man in decent society ever puts “Mr.” -before his own name, except on visiting-cards. -There, usage has made it proper. A married -lady or a young girl always has “Mrs.” or -“Miss” on her cards, and, of late, men have -got into the habit of putting “Mr.” on theirs. -No man of taste ever puts “Mr.” before or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>“Esq.”<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c018'><sup>[1]</sup></a> after his own name when signing a -letter.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c013'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. The title Esq. really belongs only to those connected -with the legal profession, but republican usage has much -extended it.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Another fault against taste is a habit—prevalent -only in America—of writing social -letters under business headings. Here is an -example:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='sc'>J. J. Robinson & Co.</span>,</div> - <div class='c004'>New York.</div> - <div class='c004'>Manufacturers and Dealers in the Newest Styles</div> - <div>of Coffins, Caskets, and Embalming Fluids.</div> - <div class='c004'>Orders carefully attended to.</div> - <div class='c004'>All payments C.O.D.</div> - <div class='c004'>No deductions for damages allowed after thirty days.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Under that heading appears a note of congratulation:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Tom</span>: I hasten to congratulate you on -your marriage. Believe me, I wish you every blessing, -and if you should ever need anything in my -line, you will always receive the greatest possible -reduction in price. May you live long and prosper!</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c016'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Yours very affectionately,</div> - <div class='line in16'>“<span class='sc'>J. J. Robinson</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This is an extreme example, I admit; but -who has not seen social notes written under -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>business headings just as incongruous? -When we write to anybody not on business, -let us use spotless white paper without lines; -let the paper and envelopes be as thick as -possible; and let us not put any ornamental -flower, or crest, or coat-of-arms, or any bit -of nonsense at the top of our letters. The -address ought to be written plainly at the -head of our letter-paper, or printed if you -will. And if we begin a letter with “Dear -Sir,” we ought to write in the left-hand corner -of the last sheet the name of the person -to whom the letter is addressed. But if we -begin a letter with “Dear Mr. Robinson,” it -is not necessary to write Mr. Robinson’s name -again. If a man gets an invitation written -in the third person he must answer it in the -third person. If</p> - -<p class='c017'>“Mrs. J. J. Smith requests the pleasure of Mr. -J. J. Jones’s company at dinner on Wednesday, April -23, at seven o’clock,”</p> -<p class='c015'>young Mr. J. J. Jones would stamp himself -as ignorant of the ways of society if he wrote -back:</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>“<span class='sc'>Dear Mrs. Smith</span>: I will come, of course. If -I am a little late, keep something on the fire for me. -I shall be umpire at a base-ball match that afternoon, -and I shall be hungry. Good-by.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-l c016'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Yours devotedly,</div> - <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>J. J. Jones</span>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>You may be sure that if young Mr. Jones -should put in an appearance after that note -he would find the door closed in his face.</p> - -<p class='c013'>An invitation to dinner must be accepted -or declined on the day it is received. One -is not permitted to say he will come if he -can. He must say Yes or No at once. The -words “polite,” “genteel,” and “present -compliments” are no longer used. “Your -kind invitation” now takes the place of -“your polite invitation;” and “genteel” is -out of date. The letters “R. S. V. P.” are -no longer put on notes or cards. It is -thought it is not necessary to tell, in French, -people to “answer, if you please.” All well-educated -people are pleased to answer without -being told to do so. The custom of putting -“R. S. V. P.” in a note is as much out -of fashion as that of drawing off a glove -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>when one shakes hands. In the olden times, -when men wore armor, a hand clothed in a -steel or iron gauntlet was not pleasant to -touch. There was then a reason why a man -should draw off his glove when he extended -his hand to another, especially if that other -happened to be a lady. But the reason for -the custom has gone by; and it is not necessary -to draw off one’s glove now when one -shakes hands.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But to return to the subject of letter-writing. -If you are addressing a Doctor of -Medicine or Divinity, you may put “Esq.” -after his name in addition to his title “M.D.” -or “D.D.” but it is a senseless custom. -But “Mr.” and “Esq.” before and after a -man’s name sends the writer, in the estimation -of well-bred people, to “the bottom of -the sea.” Paper with gilt edges is never -used; in fact, a man must not have anything -about him that is merely pretty. -Usage decrees that he may wear a flower in -his button-hole—and Americans are becoming -as fond of flowers as the ancient Romans; -but farther than that he may not go, in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>way of the merely ornamental, either in his -stationery or his clothes.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is the fashion now to fasten envelopes -with wax and to use a seal; but it is not at -all necessary, though there are many who -prefer it, as they object to get a letter which -has been “licked” to make its edges stick.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Begin, in addressing a stranger, with -“Madam” or “Sir.” “Miss” by itself is -never used. After a second letter has been -received, “Dear Madam” or “Dear Sir” may -be used. Conclude all formal letters with -“Yours truly,” or “Sincerely yours,” not -“Affectionately yours.” Sign your full name -when writing to a friend or an equal. Do not -write “T. F. Robinson” or “T. T. Smith;” -write your name out as if you were not -ashamed of it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Put your address at the head of your -letters, and if you make a blot, tear up the -paper. A dirty letter sent, even with an -apology, is as bad a breach of good manners -as the extending of a dirty hand. Answer -at once any letter in which information is -asked. Do not write to people you do not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>know or answer advertisements in the papers -“for fun.” A man that knows the world -never does this. These advertisements often -hide traps, and a man may get into them -merely by writing a letter. And the kind of -“fun” which ends in a man’s being pursued -by vulgar postal cards and letters wherever -he goes does not pay.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In writing a letter, do not begin too close -to the top of the page, or too far down -towards the middle. Do not abbreviate -when you can help it; you may write “Dr.” -for “Doctor.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Do not put a yellow envelope over a sheet -of white note-paper. It is not necessary to -leave <em>wide</em> margin at the left-hand side. -A habit now is to write only on one side -of the paper; to begin your letter on the -first page, then to go to the third, then back -to the second, ending, if you have a great -deal to say, on the fourth. A late fad is to -jump from the first to the fourth.</p> - -<p class='c013'>With a good dictionary at his elbow, black -ink, white paper, a clear head, and a remembrance -of the rules and prohibitions I have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>given, any young man cannot fail, if he write, -to impress all who receive his letters with -the fact that he is well-bred.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VII. What to Read.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>Young people who determine to study -English literature seriously sometimes -find themselves discouraged by the multitude -of books; consequently they get into an idle -way of accepting opinions at second hand—the -ready-made opinions of the text-book. -In order to study English literature, it is not -necessary to read many books; but it is -necessary to read a few books carefully. The -evident insincerity of some of the people -who “go in” for literary culture has given -the humorous paragrapher, often on the verge -of paresis from trying to be funny every day, -many a straw to grasp at. There is no -doubt that some of his gibes and sneers are -deserved, and that others, undeserved, serve -as cheap stock in trade for people who are too -idle or too stupid to take any interest in -literary matters.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Literary insincerity and pretension are sufficiently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>bad, but they are not worse than the -superficial and silly jeers at poetry and art -in the line of the worn-out witticisms about -the “spring poet” and the “mother-in-law.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>The young woman who thinks it the proper -thing to go into ecstasies over Robert -Browning without having read a line of the -poet’s work, except, perhaps, “How They -Carried the News from Ghent to Aix,” is -foolish enough; but is the man who sneers -at Browning and knows even less about him -any better? The earnest student of literature -makes no pretensions. He reads a few -books well, and by that obtains the key to -the understanding of all others. He does -not pretend to admire epics he has not read. -He knows, of course, that the <cite><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Nibelungenlied</span></cite> -is the great German epic; but he does not -talk about it as if he had studied and weighed -every line. If he finds that the <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Inferno</span></cite> of -Dante is more interesting than the <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Paradiso</span></cite>, -he says so without fear, and he does not express -ready-made opinions without having -probed them. If the perfection of good -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>manners is simplicity, the perfection of literary -culture is sincerity.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Among Catholics there sometimes crops -out a kind of insincerity which almost amounts -to snobbishness. It is the tendency to praise -no book until it has had a non-Catholic approbation. -Now that Dr. Gasquet’s remarkable -volume on the suppression of the English -monasteries and Father Bridgett’s “Sir -Thomas More” have received the highest -praise in England and swept Mr. Froude’s -historical rubbish aside, there are Catholics -who will not hesitate to respect them, although -they did hesitate before the popular -laudation was given to these two great -books.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When a reader has begun to acquire the -rudiments of literary taste, he ought to choose -the books he likes; but he cannot be trusted -to choose books for himself until he has—perhaps -with some labor—gained taste. All -men are born with taste very unequally developed. -A man cannot, I repeat, hope to -gain a correct judgment in literary matters -unless he works for it.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>Mr. Frederick Harrison says: “When will -men understand that the reading of great -books is a faculty to be acquired, not a natural -gift, at least to those who are spoiled -by our current education and habits of life? -An insatiable appetite for new novels makes -it as hard to read a masterpiece as it seems -to a Parisian boulevardier to live in a quiet -country. Until a man can really enjoy a -draught of clear water bubbling from a mountain-side, -his taste is in an unwholesome state. -To understand a great national poet, such as -Dante, Calderon, Corneille, or Goethe, is to -know other types of human civilization in -ways which a library of histories does not -sufficiently teach.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Mr. Harrison is right. It is not always -easy to like good books; but it is easier to -train the young to like them than to cleanse -the perverted taste of the older. The chief -business of the teacher of literature ought to -be the cultivation of taste. At his best, he -can do no more than that; at his worst, he -can fill the head of the student with mere -names and dates and undigested opinions.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>When the student of literature begins really -to enjoy Shakspere, his taste has begun to be -formed. He may read the “Vicar of Wakefield” -after that without a yawn, and learn to -enjoy the quiet humor of Charles Lamb. He -finds himself raised into pure air, above the -malaria of exaggeration and sensationalism. -His style in writing insensibly improves; he -becomes critical of the slang and careless -English of his every-day speech; and surely -these things are worth all the trouble spent -in gaining them. Besides, he has secured -a perpetual solace for those long nights—and -perhaps days—of loneliness which must -come to nearly every man when he begins to -grow old. After religion, there is no comfort -in life, when the links of love begin to -break, like a love for great literature. But -this love must be genuine; pretence will not -avail; nor will mere “top-dressing” be of -any use.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Literature used to be considered in the -light of a “polite accomplishment.” A book -of “elegant extracts” skimmed through was -the only means deemed necessary for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>acquirement of an education in letters. It -means a very different thing now, and the -establishment of the reading circles has -emphasized its meaning for Catholic Americans. -It means, first of all, some knowledge -of philology; it means a critical understanding -of the value of the stones that make up -the great mosaic of literature, and these -stones are words.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A bit of Addison, a chunk of Gibbon, a -taste of Macaulay, no longer reach the ideal -of what a student of English literature should -read. We first form our taste, and then read -for ourselves. We do not even accept Cardinal -Newman’s estimate of “The Vision of -Mirza” or “Thalaba” without inquiry; nor -do we throw up our hats for Browning merely -because Browning has become fashionable. -A healthy sign of a robuster taste is the return -to Pope, the poet of common-sense, -and to Walter Scott. But we accept neither -of these writers on a cut-and-dried judgment -made by somebody else. It is better to give -two months to the reading of Pope and about -Pope than to fill two months with desultory -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>reading and take an opinion of Pope at -second hand.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In spite of the ordinary text-book of literature, -the serious student discovers that -Dryden is a poet and prose-writer of the first -rank, that Newman is the greatest thinker -and stylist of modern times, that no dramatic -writer of the last two centuries has come so -near Shakspere as Aubrey de Vere, and -that Coventry Patmore’s prose is delightful. -If all the students of literature that read “<span class='sc'>A -Gentleman</span>” have not discovered these -things for themselves, let them take up any -one of these writers seriously, perseveringly, -and contradict me if they think I am wrong.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Matthew Arnold showed long ago that, if -the basis of English literature was Saxon, its -curves, its form, its symmetry, its beauty, -were derived from the qualities of that other -race which the Saxons drove out. Similarly, -if the author of that Saxon epic, the “<cite>Beowulf</cite>,” -if Cædmon and the Venerable Bede -uttered high thoughts, it was reserved for -Chaucer to wed high thoughts to a form borrowed -from the French and Italians. Chaucer -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>saved the English language from remaining -a collection of inadequate dialects. The -Teutonic element supplied his strength; the -Celtic element his lightness and elegance. -Now this Chaucer was a very humble and -devout Catholic. “Ah! but he pointed out -abuses—he was the Lollard, enlightened by -the morning-star of the Reformation,” the -text-books of English literature have been -saying for many years. “See what he insinuates -about the levity of his pilgrims to -Canterbury!” All of which has nothing -to do with his firm faith in the Catholic -Church.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Chaucer was inspired by the intensely -Christian Dante and the exquisite Petrarch, -but, unfortunately, he took too much from -another master-the greatest master of -Italian prose, Boccaccio. When I use the -word Christian, I mean Catholic—the words -are interchangeable; and Dante is the most -Christian of all poets.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But Boccaccio was a Christian; he had -faith; he could be serious; he loved Dante; -his collection of stories, which no man is justified -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>in reading, unless it is for their Italian -style, has attracted every English poet of -narrative verse, from Chaucer to Tennyson; -and yet, though these stories have moments -of pathos and elevation, they are full of the -fetid breath of paganism. A pope suppressed -them; but their style saved them—for -art was a passion in Italy—and they were -revived, somewhat expurgated. In his old -age he lamented the effects of his early book.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The occasional coarseness in Chaucer we -owe to the manners of the times; for the -English, far behind the Italians, were just -awakening from semi-barbarism. Dante had -crystallized the Italian language long before -Chaucer was born. Italy had produced the -precursor of Dante, St. Francis of Assisi, -and a host of other great men, whose fame -that of St. Francis and Dante dimmed by -comparison, long before the magnificent English -language came out of chaos. The few -lapses in morality in Chaucer are due both to -the influence of Boccaccio and to the paganism -latent in a people who were gradually -becoming fully converted. But the power of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>Christianity protected Chaucer; the teaching -of the Church was part of his very life, and -nothing could be more pathetic, more honest -than his plea for pardon. The Church had -taught him to love chastity; if he sinned in -word, he sinned against light. The Church -gave him the safeguards for his genius; the -dross he gathered from the earthiness around -him. Of the latter, there is little enough.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Chaucer was born in 1340; Dante in 1265; -and Dante helped to create the English -poet. Italy was the home of the greatest -and noblest men of all the world, and these -men had revived pagan art in order to baptize -it and make it a child of Christ. Chaucer -has suffered more than any other poet at the -hands of the text-book makers, who have -conspired for over three hundred years -against the truth. We have been made to -see him through a false medium. We have -been told that he was in revolt against the -religion which he loved as his life. He loved -the Mother of God with a childlike fervor; -a modern Presbyterian would have been as -much of a heretic to him as a Moslem; he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>was as loyal a child of the Church as ever -lived, and to regard him as anything else is -to stamp one as of that old and ignorant -school of Philistines which all cultivated -Americans have learned to detest.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The best book for the study of this poet -is Cowden Clarke’s “Riches of Chaucer” -(London: Crosby, Lockwood & Co.), the -knowledge of which I owe to the kindness of -Mr. Aubrey de Vere. And his works will -repay study; Mr. Cowden Clarke arranged -them so that they can be read with ease and, -after a short time, with pleasure. To see -Chaucer through anybody’s eyes is to see -him through a darkened glass. Why should -not we, so much nearer to him than any of the -commentators who have assumed to explain -him to us, take possession of him? He should -not be an alien to us; the form of the inkhorn -he held has changed; but the rosary -that fell from his fingers was the same as our -rosary.</p> - -<p class='c013'>English literature began with Chaucer. -He loved God and he loved humanity; he -could laugh like a child because he had the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>faith of a child. His strength lay in his -faith; and, as faith weakened, English poets -looked back more and more regretfully at the -“merrie” meads sprinkled with the daisies -he loved. He is as cheerful as Sir Thomas -More; as gay, yet as sympathetic with human -pleasure and pain, as the Dominican monks -whom he loved. If he jibed at abuses—if -he saw that luxury and avarice were beginning -to creep into monasteries and palaces—he -knew well that the remedy lay in greater -union with Rome. Like Francis of Assisi, -he was a poet, but a poet who loved even -the defects of humanity, and who preferred -to laugh at them rather than to reform them. -Unlike Francis of Assisi, he was not a saint. -He was intensely interested in the world -around him; he was of it and in it; and he -belongs doubly to us—the <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Alma Redemptoris</span></cite>, -one of his favorite hymns, which he mentions -in “Tale of the Prioress,” we hear at -vespers as he heard it. The faith in which -he died in 1400 is our faith to-day.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In no age have been the written masterpieces -of genius within such easy reach of all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>readers. But it is true that older people, -living at a time when books were dearer and -libraries fewer than they are now, read better -books; not <em>more</em> books, but <em>better</em> books. -Probably in those days people amused themselves -less outside their own homes. Some -tell us that the tone of thought was more -solid and serious. At any rate, the English -classics had more influence on the American -reader fifty years ago than they have to-day. -The time had its drawbacks, to be -sure. An old gentleman often told me of a -visit to a Pennsylvania farm in the thirties, -when the man of the house gave him, as -a precious thing, a copy of <cite>The Catholic -Herald</cite> two years old! Now the paper of -yesterday seems almost a century old; then -the paper of last year was new.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Unhappily, the book of last year suffers -the same fate as the paper of yesterday. -The best way to counteract this unhappy -condition of affairs is to clasp a good book -to one with “hoops of steel” when such a -book is found.</p> - -<p class='c013'>In considering the subject of literature, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>there is one great book which is seldom mentioned. -This is Denis Florence MacCarthy’s -translations from Calderon.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Calderon ought not to be a stranger to us. -He approaches very near to Dante in deep -religious feeling, and he is not far behind -him in genius. If no good translation of -some of his most representative works existed, -there might be an excuse for the general -neglect of this great author by English-speaking -readers. And MacCarthy has done -justice to those sublime, sacred dramas, -called “autos,” in which all the resources of -faith and genius are laid at the feet of God. -It is to be hoped that in a few years both -MacCarthy and Mangan may be recognized. -Those who know the former only by his -“Waiting for the May” will broaden their -field of literary knowledge and gain a higher -respect for him through his translations of -Calderon. The names of Calderon, the greatest -of the Spanish poets, and of MacCarthy, -his chief translator, suggest that of another -author too little known to the general reader. -This is Kenelm Henry Digby, whose “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Mores -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>Catholici</span>” is a magazine of ammunition for -the Christian reader.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is an amusing scene in one of -Thackeray’s novels, where a journalist acknowledges -that he finds all the classical -quotations which garnish his articles in Burton’s -“Anatomy of Melancholy;” and, indeed, -many other things besides bits of -Latin have been appropriated from Burton -and Montaigne, in our time, by ready writers. -Many a sparkling thought put into the crisp -English of the nineteenth century may be -traced back to Boethius. And who shall condemn -this? Has not Shakspere set us an -example of how gold, half buried in ore, may -be polished until it is an inestimable jewel? -Kenelm Digby’s “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Mores Catholici</span>” is a -great magazine from which a thousand facts -may be gathered, each fact pregnant with -suggestion and stimulus. Sharp-pointed arrows -against calumny are here: all they -need is a light shaft and feather and a strong -hand to send them home. Is an illustration -for a sermon wanted? Is a fact on -which to found an essay demanded? One -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>has only to open the “Mores.” It is not a -book which one reads with intense interest; -one cannot gallop through the three large -volumes—one must walk, laboriously stowing -away every treasure. It is, in fact, a book -through which one saunters, picking something -at long intervals, perhaps. You may -dip into it, as a boy dives for a cent, and come -up with a pearl-oyster in your hand. It is -a book to be kept on the lowest shelf, within -reach at all times; at any rate, to be one of -the books to which you go when you are in -search of a fact or an illustration.</p> - -<p class='c013'>One of the few sonnets written by Denis -Florence MacCarthy was addressed to Digby. -Digby had painted a picture of Calderon and -sent it to the Irish poet; hence the sonnet—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Thou who hast left, as in a sacred shrine,—</div> - <div class='line in2'>What shrine more pure than thy unspotted page?—</div> - <div class='line in2'>The priceless relics of a heritage</div> - <div class='line'>Of loftiest thoughts and lessons most divine.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>And so the names of Calderon and -MacCarthy and Digby come naturally together; -and they are the names of men each -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>great in his way. They are not found in the -newspapers; they are seldom seen in the -great magazines; those societies of the cultivated -which are—thank Heaven!—multiplying -everywhere for the better understanding -of books know very little about them. Let -us hope that Miss Imogene Guiney, who -wrote so well of Mangan in one of the -numbers of the <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite>, will do a -similar kind office for MacCarthy.</p> - -<p class='c013'>As to Calderon, he can be read but in -parts. Like Milton, he travelled over many -a barren stretch of prose thinking it poetry; -and so we will be wise to follow MacCarthy’s -lead in choosing from his dramas. He is so -little known among us for the reason that we -have permitted the English taste—which -became Protestantized—to separate us from -him. It is to the German Goethe that we -owe the revival of the taste for Dante. Before -Goethe rediscovered him, the English-speaking -people of the world held that there -were only two great poets—Shakspere and -Milton.</p> - -<p class='c013'>To reclaim our heritage, we must know -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>something of Calderon. There is no reason -why our horizon should be limited to that -which English Protestantism has uncovered -for us. Calderon represents the literature of -Catholic Spain at its highest point; and even -the most narrow-minded man, having read a -fair number of the pages of Calderon, can -deny neither his ardent devotion to the -Church nor his high genius, nor can he disprove -that they existed together, free and -untrammelled. We have been told that the -outbreak of literary genius in the reign of -Elizabeth was but the outcome of the liberty -of the Reformation. How did it happen that -Spain, in which there was no Reformation, -produced Columbus, Calderon, Cervantes, -and Italy illustrious names by the legion? -Knowledge, after all, is the only antidote to -the miasma of ignorance and arrogance which -has clouded the judgment of so many writers -on literature and art.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span> - <h2 class='c007'>VIII. The Home Book-shelf.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>It ought not to be so much our practice to -denounce bad books as to point out -good ones. To say that a book is immoral -is to increase its sale. But the more good -books we put into the hands of our boys, the -greater preservative powers we give them -against evil. Here is a bit from the Kansas -City <cite>Star</cite> which expresses tersely what we -have all been thinking:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“The truth is that it is not the boys who read -‘bad books’ who swell the roll of youthful criminality; -it is the boys who do not read anything. Let -any one look over the police court of a busy morning, -and he will see that the style of youth gathered -there have not fallen into evil ways through -their depraved literary tendencies. They were not -brought there by books, but more probably by ignorance -of books combined with a genuine hatred of -books of all kinds. There is not a more perfect -picture of innocence in the world than a boy buried -in his favorite book, oblivious to all earthly sights -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>and sounds, scarcely breathing as he follows the -fortunes of the heroes and heroines of the story.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>It depends, of course, on what kind of a -story it is. A boy may be a picture of innocence; -but we all know that many a canvas -on which is a picture of innocence is much -worm-eaten at the back. If the book be a -good one, a boy is safe while he is reading -it—he can be no safer. If it is a mere story -of adventure, without any dangerous sentiment, -a boy is not likely to get harm out of -it. It is the sentimental—not the honest -sentiment of Sir Walter or Thackeray—that -does harm to the boy of a certain age, but -more harm to the girl. A boy’s preoccupation -with his book may not be always innocent. -It is a father’s or mother’s duty to -see that it is innocent, by supplying the boy -with the right kind of books. This, in our -atmosphere, is almost as much of a duty as -the supplying him with bread and butter. A -father may take the lowest view of his duties; -he maybe content with having his son taught -the Little Catechism and with feeding and -clothing him. However sufficient this may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>be among the peasants of the Tyrol, it does -not answer in our country. The boy who -cares to read nothing except the daily paper -or the theatrical poster has more chances -against him than the devourer of books. -The police courts show that.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The parish library, as a help to religious -and moral education, comes next to the parish -school; it supplements it; it amplifies its instruction: -it carries its influence deeper; it -cultivates both the logical powers and the imagination. -Give a boy a taste for books, and -he has a consolation which neither sickness -nor poverty nor age itself can take from him. -But he must not be left to ramble through -a library at his own sweet will. There are -probably no stricter Catholics among our acquaintance -than were the parents of Alexander -Pope, the “poet of common-sense” and -bad philosophy; and yet their carelessness, -or rather faith in books merely as books, led -him into many an ethical error.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is no use in trying to restrict the -reading of a clever American boy to professedly -Catholic books in the English language. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>He will ask for stories, and there are -not enough stories of the right sort to last -him very long. He will want stories with -plenty of action in them—stirring stories, -stories of adventure, stories of school life, of -life in his own country; and we have too few -of them. And it requires some discrimination -to square his wants with what he ought -to want. But that discrimination must be -used by somebody, or there will be danger.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Nevertheless, the boy who rushes through -Oliver Optic’s stories, and Henty’s and Bolderwood’s, -is not likely to be injured. They -are not ideal books, from our point of view. -He may even read Charles Kingsley’s boisterous, -stupid stuff; but if he is a well-instructed -boy, he will be in a state of hot -indignation all through “Hypatia” and the -other underdone-roast-beefy things of that -bigot. Kingsley, with all his prejudice, -though, is better for a boy than Rider -Haggard. There is a nasty trail over Haggard’s -stories.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is some comfort in the fact that the -average boy is too eagerly intent on his story -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>to mind the moralizing. What does he care -for Lord Lytton’s talk about the Good, the -True, and the Beautiful in “The Last Days -of Pompeii”? He wants to know how everything -“turns out.” And in Kingsley’s -“Hypatia”—which is so often in Catholic -libraries—he pays very little attention to the -historical lies, for the sake of the action. -Nevertheless, he should be guarded against -the historical lies. Personally—I hope this -intrusion of the <em>ego</em> will be forgiven—I had, -when I was a boy and waded through all -sorts of books, so strong a conviction that -Catholics were always right and every one else -wrong, that “Hypatia” and Bulwer’s “Harold” -and the rest were mere incentives to -zeal; I thought that if the Lady Abbess -walled up Constance at the end of “Marmion,” -that young person deserved her fate.</p> - -<p class='c013'>This state of mind, however, ought not to -be generally cultivated; a discriminating taste -for reading should. Do not let us cry out so -loudly about bad books; let us seek out the -good ones; and remember that it is not the -reading boy that fills the criminal ranks, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>the boy that lives in the streets and does not -read.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There should be a few books on the -family shelf—books which are meant to be -daily companions—the Bible, the “Imitation -of Christ,” something of Father Faber’s, -“Fabiola” and “Dion and the Sibyls,” and -some great novels.</p> - -<p class='c013'>People of to-day do not realize how much -the greatest of all the romancers owes to the -Catholic Dryden. Sir Walter Scott, in spite -of frequent change in public taste, still holds -his own. Cardinal Newman, in one of his -letters, regrets that young people have ceased -to be interested in so admirable a writer. -But there is only partial reason for this regret. -Sir Walter’s long introductions and some of -his elaborate descriptions of natural scenery -are no longer read with interest. Still, it is -evident that people do not care to have his -works changed in any way. Not long ago, -Miss Braddon, the indefatigable novelist, -“edited” Sir Walter Scott’s novels. She -cut out all those passages which seemed -dull to her. But the public refused to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>read the improved edition. It remained -unsold.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is safe to predict that neither Sir Walter -Scott nor Miss Austen will ever go entirely -out of fashion. Sir Walter’s muse is to Miss -Austen’s as the Queen of Sheba to a very -prim modern gentlewoman: one is attired in -splendid apparel, wreathed with jewels, -sparkling; the other is neutral-tinted, timid, -shy. But of all novelists, Sir Walter Scott -admired Miss Edgeworth and Miss Austen. -He said, with almost a sigh of regret, that -he could do the big “bow-wow” business, -but that they pictured real life.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Nevertheless, while Miss Austen is not -forgotten—in fact, interest has increased in -her delightful books of late years—Sir -Walter Scott’s novels are found everywhere. -Not to have read the most notable of the -Waverley Novels is to give one’s acquaintances -just reason for lamenting one’s illiberal -education.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The name of Sir Walter Scott naturally -suggests that of Dryden, from whom the -“Wizard” borrowed some of the best things -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>in “Ivanhoe”—and “Ivanhoe” is without -doubt the most popular of Sir Walter Scott’s -novels. That picturesque humbug Macaulay, -who could sacrifice anything for a brilliant -antithesis, has done much harm to the reputation -of Dryden. He gives us the impression -that Dryden was a mere timeserver, if a -brilliant satirist and a third-rate poet. Some -years will pass before the superficial criticism -of Macaulay shall be taken at its full value. -Dryden was honest—honest in his changes -of opinion, and entirely consistent in his -change of faith. No church but that of his -ancestors could have satisfied the mind of a -man to whom the mutilated doctrine and -bald services of the Anglican sect were naturally -obnoxious. Of the charge that Dryden -changed his religious opinions for gain, Mr. -John Amphlett Evans, a sympathetic critic, -says that, if Dryden gained the approval of -King James II., he lost that of the English -people. Dryden understood this, for he -wrote:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“If joys hereafter must be purchased here</div> - <div class='line'>With loss of all that mortals hold so dear,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>Then welcome infamy and public shame,</div> - <div class='line'>And last, a long farewell to worldly fame.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>If Scott, through ignorance or carelessness, -misrepresented certain Catholic practices, he -never consciously misrepresented Catholic -ideas; and, as a recent writer in the <cite>Dublin -Review</cite> remarks, he showed that all that was -best and heroic in the Middle Ages was the -result of Catholic teaching. This was his -attraction for Cardinal Newman. This made -him so fascinating to another convert, James -A. McMaster, who had an inherited Calvinistic -horror of most other novels. Scott, -robust and broad-minded as he was, could -understand the mighty genius and the great -heart of Dryden. He was the ablest defender -of the poet who abjured the licentiousness -of the Restoration—mirrored in his earlier -dramas—to adopt a purer mode of thought. -Although Dryden was really Scott’s master -in art, Sir Walter did not fully understand -how very great was Dryden’s poem, “Almanzor -and Almahide.” If Tasso’s “Jerusalem -Delivered,” or Ariosto’s “Orlando -Furioso,” or Milton’s “Paradise Regained,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>or Fénelon’s “Telemachus” is an epic, this -splendid poem of Dryden’s is an epic, and -greater than them all. It is from this poem, -founded on episodes of the siege of Granada, -that Sir Walter Scott borrows so liberally in -“Ivanhoe.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>One cannot altogether pardon the greatest -fault of all Sir Walter made, the punishment -of Constance in “Marmion.” But his -theory of artistic effect was something like -Macaulay’s idea of rhetorical effect. If -picturesqueness or dramatic effect interfered -with historical truth, the latter suffered the -necessary carving to make it fit. It must be -remembered, too, that Sir Walter Scott was -not in a position to profit by modern discoveries -which have forced all honorable -men to revise many pages of the falsified -histories of their youth and to do justice to -the spirit of the Church.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Sir Walter Scott is always chivalrous and -pure-minded. How he would have detested -Froude’s brutal characterization of Mary -Stuart, or Swinburne’s vile travesty of her! -If his friars are more jolly than respectable, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>it is because he drew his pictures from popular -ballads and old stories never intended in -Catholic times to be taken as serious or -typical. His Templars are horrible villains, -but he never seems to regard them as villanous -because they are ecclesiastics; he does -not intend to drag their priesthood into disgrace; -they are lawless and romantic figures, -loaded with horrible accusations by Philippe -le Bel, and condemned by the Pope—ready-made -romantic scoundrels fit for purposes of -fiction. He does not look beyond this.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Scott shows much of the nobility of Dryden’s -later work. He does not confuse good -with evil; he is always tender of good sentiments; -he hates vice and all meanness; in -depicting so many fine characters who could -only have bloomed in a Catholic atmosphere, -he shows a sympathy for the “old Church” -at once pathetic and admirable to a Catholic. -There is no novel of his in which the influence -of the Church is not alluded to in some -way or other. And how delightful are his -heroines when they are Catholic! How -charmingly he has drawn Mary Stuart! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>And the man that does not love Di Vernon -and Catherine Seton has no heart for Beatrice -or Portia. And then there is the grand -figure of Edward Glendenning in “The -Abbot.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Dryden and Scott both owed so much to -the Church, were so naturally her children, -that one feels no ordinary satisfaction in the -conversion of the one, and some consolation -in the fact that the last words of the other -were those of the “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dies Irae</span>.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Brownson and Newman are two authors -more talked about than read in this country. -In England Newman’s most careful literary -work is known; Brownson’s work has only -begun to receive attention. Newman has -gained much by being talked and written -about by men who love the form of things as -much as the matter, and who, if Newman -had taught Buddhism or Schopenhauerism, -would admire him just as much. As there -is a large class of these men, and as they help -to form public opinion, it has come to pass -that he who would deny Newman’s mastery -of style would be smiled at in any assembly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>of men of letters. Brownson has not had -such an advantage. He gave his attention -thoroughly to the matter in hand; style was -with him a secondary consideration. Besides, -he wrote from the American point of view, -and sometimes—at least it would seem so—under -pressure from the printer. Newman -was never hurried; Horace was not more -leisurely, Cicero more exact. It would be -absurd to compare Newman and Brownson. -I simply put their names together to show -that they should be read, even if other -writers must be neglected, by Catholic Americans. -I take the liberty of recommending -three books as valuable additions to the -home shelf:—Brownson’s “Views,” and the -“Characteristics” of Wiseman and Newman.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Every young American who wants to understand -the political position of his country -among the nations should read three books—Brownson’s -“American Republic,” De -Tocqueville’s “Democracy in America,” and -Bryce’s “American Commonwealth.” But -of these three writers the greatest—incomparably -the greatest—is Brownson: he defines -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>principles; he clarifies them until they -are luminous; he shows the application of -them to a new condition of things. There -have been Catholics—why disguise the fact, -since they are nearly all dead or imbecile?—who -fancied that our form of government was -merely tolerated by the Church. Brownson -gave a death-blow to those ancient dragons -of unbelief. Certain parts of this great -work ought to be a text-book in every school -in the country. And it will now be easier -to build a monument to this profound thinker, -as there is a well-considered attempt to -popularize such portions of his books as must -catch the general attention, for there are -many pages in Brownson’s works which are -hidden only because they suffered in their -original method of publication.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Open a volume of his works at random, -and you will find something to suggest or -stimulate thought, to define a term or to -fortify a principle. Read, for instance, those -pages of his on the Catholic American literature -of his time and you will have a standard -of judgment for all time. And who to-day -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>can say what he says as well as he said -it? As to those parts of his philosophy -about which the doctors disagree, let us leave -that to the doctors. It does not concern the -general public, and indeed it might be left -out of consideration with advantage.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Brownson’s works are mines of thought. -In them lie the germs of mighty sermons, of -great books to come. Already he is a classic -in American literature, and there is every -reason why he should be a classic, since he -was first in an untilled ground; and yet it is -a sad thing to find that of all the magnificent -material Brownson has left, the “Spirit -Rapper,” that comparatively least worthy -product of his pen, seems to be the best -known to the general reader.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If one of us would confine himself to the -reading of four authors in English—Shakspere, -Newman, Webster, and Brownson—he -could not fail to be well educated. The -“Idea of a University” of Newman is a -pregnant book. It goes to the root of the -subtlest matters; its clearness enters our -minds and makes the shadows flee. It cannot -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>be made our own at one reading. There -are passages which should be read over and -over again—notably that on literature and -the definition of a classic. If any man could -make us grasp the intangible, Newman -could. How sentimental and thin Emerson -appears after him! Professor Cook, of Yale, -has done the world a good turn by giving -us the chapter on “Poetry and the Poetics -of Aristotle” in a little pamphlet; and John -Lilly’s “Characteristics” is a very valuable -book. Any reader or active man who dips -into the chapter on the “Poetics” will long -for more; and, if he does, the “Characteristics” -will not slake his thirst; he will desire -the volumes themselves and drink in new -refreshments with every page.</p> - -<p class='c013'>I have known a young admirer of “Lead, -Kindly Light”—which, by the way, has only -three stanzas of its own—to be repelled by -the learned title of “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Apologia Pro Vita Sua</span>,” -but, in search of the circumstances that helped -to produce it, to turn to certain pages in this -presumably uninteresting work. The charm -began to work; Newman was no longer a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>pedant to be avoided, but a friend to be ever -near.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“Callista” amounts to very little as a -novel; it is valuable because Newman studied -its color from authentic sources. But “The -Dream of Gerontius” is only beginning in -our country to receive the attention due to -it. It was a text-book in classes at Oxford -long before people here touched it at all, -except in rare instances. It is a unique -poem. There is nothing like it in all literature. -It is the record of the experience of -a soul during the instant it is liberated from -the body. It touches the sublime; it is -colorless—if a pure white light can be said -to be colorless. It is the work of a great -logician impelled to utter his thoughts -through the most fitting medium, and this -medium he finds to be verse. In Dante the -symbols of earthly things represent to us the -mystic life of the other world. Dante Gabriel -Rossetti, chief of the Pre-Raphaelites, imitated -the outer shell of the great Dante—the -sensuous shell—but he got no further. -Newman soars above, beyond earth; we are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>made to realize with awful force that the -soul at death is at once divorced from the -body. Dante does not make us feel this. -The people that Virgil and he meet are not -spirits, but men and women with bodies and -souls in torment. No painter on earth could -put “The Dream of Gerontius” into line -and color. Flaxman, so exquisite in his interpretation -of Dante, would seem vulgar, -and Doré brutal. None of us should lack a -knowledge of this truly wonderful poem, -which must be studied, not read. Philosophy -and theology have found no flaws in it; -humanity may shiver in the whiteness of its -light, and yet be consoled by the fact that -the comfort it offers is not merely imaginative, -or sentimental, or beautiful, but real.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is impossible to suppress the love of the -beautiful in human nature. The early New -Englanders, to whom beauty was an offence -and art and literature condemned things—who -worshipped a God of their own invention, -clothed in sulphurous clouds and holding -victims over eternal fire, ready, with the -ghastly pleasure described by their divines, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>to drop these victims into the flame—were -not Christians. Christians have never accepted -the Grecian <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">dictum</span></i> that earthly -beauty is the good and that to be æsthetic -is to be moral; but Christianity has always -encouraged the love of beauty and led the -way to its use in the worship of God.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Among Americans, Longfellow had a most -devout love of the beautiful. And it was -this love of beauty that drew him near to -the Church. That eloquent writer Ruskin -has little sympathy with men who are -drawn towards the Church by the beauty -she enshrines, and he constantly protests -against the enticements of a Spouse the hem -of whose garment he kisses. Still, judging -from his ill-natured diatribe against Pugin, -in the “Stones of Venice,” he had no understanding -of the sentiment that caused -Longfellow, when in search of inspiration, -to turn to the Church.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Longfellow’s love of the melodious, of the -beautiful, of the symmetrical, led him into -defects. He could not endure a discord, -and his motto was “<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non clamor, sed amor</span></i>,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>which, as coming from him, may be paraphrased -in one word, “serenity.” His superabundant -similes show how he longed to -carry one thing into another thing of even -greater beauty, and how this longing sometimes -leads him to faults of taste.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But this lover of beauty—led by it to the -very beauty of Ruskin’s Circe and his forefathers’ -“Scarlet Woman”—came of a race -that hated beauty. And yet he stretched -out through the rocky soil of Puritan traditions -and training until we find him translating -the sermon of St. Francis of Assisi to -the birds into English verse, and working -lovingly at the most Christian of all poems, -the “Divine Comedy.” It was he—this descendant -of the Puritans—who described, as -no other poet ever described, the innocence -of the young girl coming from confession. -But it was his love of beauty and his love -of purity that made him do this. In Longfellow’s -eyes only the pure was beautiful. -A canker in the rose made the rose hateful -to him. He was unlike his classmate and -friend Hawthorne: the stain on the lily did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>not make it more interesting. His love of -purity was, however, like his hatred of noise, -a sentiment rather than a conviction.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The love for the beautiful leads to Rome. -Ruskin fights against it, Longfellow yields to -it, and even Whittier—whose lack of culture -and whose traditions held him doubly -back—is drawn to the beauty of the saints.</p> - -<p class='c013'>As culture in America broadens and deepens, -respect for the things that Protestantism -cast out increases. James Russell Lowell’s -paper on Dante, in “Among My Books,” is -an example of this. The comprehension he -shows of the divine poet is amazing in a son -of the Puritans. But the human mind and -the human heart <em>will</em> struggle towards the -light.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Longfellow was too great an artist to try -to lop off such Catholic traditions as might -displease his readers. In this he was greater -than Sir Walter Scott, and a hundred times -greater than Spenser. Scott’s mind, bending -as a healthy tree bends to the light, stretched -towards the old Church. She fascinated his -imagination, she drew his thoughts, and her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>beauty won his heart; but he was afraid of -the English people. And yet, subservient -as Scott was, Cardinal Newman avows that -Sir Walter’s novels drew him towards the -Church; and there is a letter written by the -great cardinal in which he laments that the -youth of the nineteenth century no longer -read the novels of the “Wizard of the North.” -Scott cannot get rid of the charm the Church -throws about him. He was not classical, he -was romantic. He soon tired of mere form, -as any healthy mind will. The reticent and -limited beauty of the Greek temple made -him yawn; but he was never weary of the -Gothic church, with its surprises, its splendor, -its glow, its statues, its gargoyles—all its -reproductions of the life of the world in its -relations to God.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Similarly, Longfellow was not a classicist. -The coldness of Greek beauty did not appeal -to him; he could understand and love the -pictures of Giotto—the artist of St. Francis—better -than the “Dying Gladiator.” When -Christianity had given life to the perfect -form of Greek art, then Longfellow understood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>and loved it. And he trusted the -American people sufficiently not to attempt -to placate them by concealing or distorting -the source of his inspiration. No casual -reader of “Evangeline” can mistake the -cause of the primitive virtues of the Acadians. -A lesser artist would have introduced the -typical Jesuit of the romancers, or hinted that -a King James’s Bible read by Gabriel and -Evangeline, under the direction of a self-sacrificing -colporteur, was at the root of all -the patience, purity, and constancy in the -poem. But Longfellow knew better than -this, and the American people took “Evangeline” -to their heart without question, except -from some carper, like Poe, who envied -the literary distinction of the poet. We -must remember, too, that the American -people of 1847 were not the American people -of to-day; they were narrower, more provincial, -less infused with new blood, and -more prejudiced against the traditions of the -Church to which Longfellow appealed when -he wrote his greatest poem.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is as impossible to eliminate the cross -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>from the discovery of America as to love art -and literature without acknowledging the -power that preserved both.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span> - <h2 class='c007'>IX. Of Shakspere.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>The time has come when the Catholics -of this country—who possess unmutilated -the seamless garment of Christ—should -begin to understand the real value -of the inheritance of art and literature and -music which is especially theirs.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The Reformation made a gulf between art -and religion; it declared that the beautiful -had no place in the service of God, and that -a student of æsthetics was a student of the -devil’s lore. Of late a reaction has taken -place.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Fifty years ago the picture of a Madonna -by Raphael or Filippo Lippi or Botticelli -in a popular magazine would have occasioned -a howl of condemnation from the densely -ignorant average Protestant of that time. -But the taste for art has grown immensely -in the last twenty years, and now—I am -ashamed to say it—non-Catholics have, in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>America, learned to know and love the great -masterpieces of our inheritance more than -we ourselves. It is we, English-speaking -Catholics, who have suffered unexpressibly -from the deadening influence of the Reformation -on æsthetics. As a taste for art and -literature grows, “orthodox” protest against -the Church must wane, for the essence of -“orthodox” protest is misunderstanding of -the Church which made possible Dante -and Cervantes, Chaucer and Wolfram von -Eschenbach, Fra Angelico and Murillo, -Shakspere and Dryden. And no cultivated -man, loving them, can hate the -Church that, while guarding morality, likewise -protected æsthetics as a stretching out -towards the immortal. Art and literature -and music are efforts of the spirit to approach -God. And, as such, Christianity cherishes -them. Art and history are one; art and literature -are history; and nothing is grander -in the panorama of events than the spectacle -of the fine arts, in Christian times, emptying -their precious box of ointment on the head -of Our Lord to atone for the sins of the past.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>The flower of all art is Christian art; it -took the perfect form of the Greeks and -clothed it with luminous flesh and blood.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Miss Eliza Allen Starr has shown us some -of the treasures of our inheritance of art. It -is easy to find them; good photographs of -the masters’ works—of the Sistine Madonna -of Raphael, of the Immaculate Conception of -Murillo, of the Virgin of the Kiss by Hébert, -and of the beautiful pictures of Bouguereau -are cheap everywhere. Why, then, with all -these lovely reflections of Catholic genius -near us, should we fill our houses with bad, -cheap prints?</p> - -<p class='c013'>Similarly, why should we be content with -flimsy modern books? The best of all literature -is ours—even Shakspere is ours.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If there is one fault to be found in Cardinal -Newman’s lecture on “Literature” in -that great book, “The Idea of a University,” -it is that the most subtle master of English -style took his view of Continental literature -from Hallam. When he speaks of English -literature, he speaks as a master of his subject; -on the literature of the Greeks and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>Romans, there is no uncertainty in his -utterances; but he takes his impressions of -the literature of France and Spain from a -non-Catholic critic, whose opinions are tinctured -with prejudice. One cannot help -regretting that the cardinal did not apply -the same test to Montaigne that he applied -to Shakspere.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Similarly, most of us have been induced, -by the Puritanism in the air around us, to -take our opinions of the great English -classics from text-books compiled by sciolists, -who have not gone deep enough to -understand the course of the currents of -literature. We accept Shakspere at second -hand; if we took our impressions of his -works from Professor Dowden or Herr Delius -or men like George Saintsbury or Horace -Furness, or, better than all, from himself, it -would be a different thing. But we do not; -if we read him at all, we read him hastily; -we read “Hamlet” as we would a novel, or -we are content to nibble at little chunks from -his plays, which the compilers graciously -present to us.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>The text-book of literature has been an -enemy to education, because it has been -generally compiled by persons who were incapable -of fair judgment. In this country, -Father Jenkins’s compilation is the best we -have had. It is a brave attempt to remove -misapprehensions; but a text-book should -be merely a guide to the works themselves. -There is more intellectual gain in six months’ -close study of the text and circumstances of -“Hamlet” than in tripping through a dozen -books of “selections.” The Germans found -this out long ago, and Dr. Gotthold Böttcher -puts it into fitting words in his introduction -to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s “Parcival.” -The time will doubtless come when even in -parochial schools the higher “Reader” will -be a complete book—not a thing of shreds -and patches, like the little dabs of meat and -vegetables the keepers of country hotels set -before us on small plates. This book will, -of course, be intelligently annotated.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Some of us have a certain timidity about -claiming Shakspere as our own and about -reading his plays to our young people. This -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>is because we have given in too much to the -critical spirit, which finds purity in impure -things, and impurity where no impurity is -intended. It is time we realize the evil that -the English speech has done us by unconsciously -impregnating us with alien prejudices.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Surely no man will accuse Cardinal Newman -of condoning sensuality or coarseness. -His idea of propriety is good enough; it is -broad enough and narrow enough for us. -That foreign code which would keep young -people within artificial barriers and then let -them loose to wallow in literary filth, that -hypocritical American code which leaves the -obscenities of the daily newspaper open and -closes Shakspere, is not ours.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Shakspere was the result of Catholic -thought and training. There is no Puritanism -in him. His plays are Catholic literature -in the widest sense; he sees life from the -Christian point of view, and, depicting it as -it is, his standard is a Catholic standard. -There is no doubt that there are coarse passages -in Shakspere’s plays—it is easy to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>get rid of them. But they are few. They -seem immodest because the plainness of language -of the Elizabethan time and of the -preceding times has happily gone out of -fashion. It would be well to revise our -definition of immorality, by comparing it -with the more robust Catholic one, before we -condemn Shakspere or the Old Testament, -though the scrupulous Tom Paine, who has -gone utterly out of fashion, found both -immoral!</p> - -<p class='c013'>Hear Cardinal Newman (“Idea of a University,” -page 319) speaking of Shakspere: -“Whatever passages may be gleaned from -his dramas disrespectful to ecclesiastical -authority, still these are but passages; on -the other hand, there is in Shakspere neither -contempt of religion nor scepticism, and he -upholds the broad laws of moral and divine -truths with the consistency and severity of an -Æschylus, Sophocles, and Pindar. There is -no mistaking in his works on which side lies -the right; Satan is not made a hero, nor -Cain a victim, but pride is pride, and vice is -vice, and, whatever indulgence he may allow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>himself in light thoughts or unseemly words, -yet his admiration is reserved for sanctity -and truth; ... but often as he may offend -against modesty, he is clear of a worse -charge, sensuality, and hardly a passage can -be instanced in all that he has written to -seduce the imagination or to excite the passions.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>In arranging a course of reading for young -people, it seems to me that those books -which <em>define</em> principles should be put first. -When a reader has a good grasp of definitions, -he is in a mathematical state of mind -and ready to assimilate truth and reject -error. Books of literature should not be -recommended to him until he is sure of his -principles; for, unhappily, the tendency of -American youth is to imagine that what he -cannot refute is irrefutable. If the young -reader be thoroughly grounded in the doctrines -of his faith and armed with a few clear -definitions of the meaning of things, even -Milton cannot persuade him that Satan is a -more admirable figure than Our Lord, or -Byron seduce him into the opinion that Cain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>was wronged, or Goethe that sin is merely a -more or less pleasing experience.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is remarkable that the Puritanism -which lauds Milton as a household god -turns its face from Shakspere; and yet Milton’s -great epic is not only the deification -of intellectual pride, but it contemns Christianity. -There are very few men who can -to-day say that they have read “Paradise -Lost” line after line with pleasure. There -are long stretches of aridity in it; and those -who pretend to admire it as a whole are no -doubt tinctured with literary insincerity. -But there are glorious passages in the “Paradise -Lost,” unexcelled in any literature; and -therefore the epic should be read in parts, -and one cannot be blamed if he “skip” -many other parts. The great parts of “Paradise -Lost,” ought to be read and re-read. The -comparative weakness of the “Paradise Regained” -shows that Milton had not that -sympathy with the Redemption which he -had with the revolt of Satan. And yet, in -some pious households, where puritanized -opinion reigns, Shakspere is locked up, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>while “Paradise Lost” is put beside the -family Bible!</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is not necessary that one should read -all of Shakspere’s writings; the early -poems had better be omitted; but it is necessary -for purposes of culture that one -should read what one does read with intelligence. -Before beginning “Hamlet”—which -a thoughtful Catholic can appreciate better -than any other man—one should clear the -ground by studying Professor Dowden’s -little “Primer” on Shakspere (Macmillan & -Co.), and Mr. Furnivall’s preface to the -Leopold edition of Shakspere, and George -H. Miles’s study of “Hamlet.” Then, and -not until then, will one be in a position to -get real benefit from his reading. To read -“Hamlet” without some preparation is like -the inane practice of “going to Europe to -complete an education never begun at home.” -I repeat that a Catholic can better appreciate -the marvels of Shakspere’s greatest play, -because, even if he know only the Little -Catechism, he has the key to the play and -to Shakspere’s mind.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>The philosophy of “Hamlet” is that sin -cankers and burns and ruins and corrupts -even in this world, and that the effects do -not end in this world. Shakspere, enlightened -by the teaching of centuries since St. -Austin converted his forefathers, teaches a -higher philosophy than that of Æschylus or -Euripides or Sophocles—he substitutes will -for fate. It is not fate that forces the keen -Claudius to murder his brother; it is not -fate that obliges him to turn away from the -reproaches of an instructed mind and conscience: -he chooses; it is his own will that -makes the crime; he does not confuse good -with evil. The sin of the Queen is not so -great; she is ignorant of her husband’s -crime; in fact, from the usual modern -point of view, she has committed no sin at -all. And, as the Danish method of choosing -monarchs permitted the nobles to name -Claudius king, while her son was mooning -at the Saxon university, she had done him -no material wrong. But as there is no mention -of a dispensation from Rome, and as -Shakspere makes the Danes Catholic, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>people of Denmark must have looked on the -alliance with doubt. The demand made to -Horatio to exorcise the spirit, as he was a -scholar; the expression, “I’ll cross it,” -which Fechter, the actor, rightly interpreted -as meaning the sign of the cross; a hundred -touches, in fact, show that “Hamlet” can and -ought to be studied with special profit by -Catholics.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Suppose that one begins with “Hamlet,” -having cleared the ground, and then takes -the greatest of the tragi-comedies, “The Merchant -of Venice.” Here opens a new field. -Before beginning this play, it would be well -to read Mgr. Seton’s paper on the Jews in -Europe, in his excellent “Essays, Chiefly -Roman.” It will give one an excellent idea -of the attitude of the Church towards Shylock’s -countrymen, and do away with the -impression that Antonio was acting in accordance -with that attitude when he treated -Shylock as less than a human being. Portia -not only offers a valuable contrast to the -weakness of Ophelia and the criminal weakness -of Gertrude, but she is a type of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>ideal noblewoman of her time, whose only -weakness is love for a man of lesser nobility -than herself, but who holds his honor as -greater than life or love.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Shakspere’s “Julius Cæsar,” for comparison -with “Hamlet,” might come next, and after -that the most lyrical and poetical of all the -comedies, “As You Like It,” or perhaps -“The Tempest,” with Prospero’s simple but -strong assertion of belief in immortality.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Having studied these four great works, -with as much of the literature they suggest -as practicable, a distinct advance in cultivation -will have been made. The best college -in the country can give one no more. But -they must be <em>studied</em>, not read. He who -does not know these plays misses part of his -heritage; for the plays of Shakspere belong -more to the Catholic than to the non-Catholic. -Shakspere was the fine flower of -culture nurtured under Catholic influences.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span> - <h2 class='c007'>X. Of Talk, Work, and Amusement.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>There are too many etiquette books—too -much about the outward look of -things, and too little about the inward. -Manners make a great difference in this -world—we all discover that sooner or later; -but later we find out that there are some -principles which keep society together -more than manners. If manners are the -flower, these principles are the roots which -intricately bind earth and crumbling rocks -together and make a safe footing. To-day -the end of preaching seems to be to teach the -outward form, without the inward light that -gives the form all its value. By preaching I -mean the talk and advice that permeate the -newspapers and books of social instruction.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Manners are only good, after all, when they -represent something. What does it matter -whether Mr. Jupiter makes a charming host -at his own table or not, if he sit silent a few -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>minutes after some of his guests are gone, -and listen to the horrors that one who stays -behind tells of them? And if Mrs. Juno, -whose manners at her “at home” are perfect, -sits down and rips and tears at the -characters of the acquaintances she has just -fed with coffee and whatever else answers -to the fatted calf, shall we believe that she -is useful to society?</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is harmless gossip which has its -place; in life it is like the details in a novel; -it is amusing and interesting, because it -belongs to humanity—and what that is -human is alien to us? So far as gossip -concerns the lights and shades of character, -the minor miseries and amusing happenings -of life, what honest man or woman has -not a taste for it? And who values a friend -less because his peculiarities make us smile?</p> - -<p class='c013'>But by and by there comes into the very -corner of the fireside a guest who disregards -the crown of roses which every man likes to -hang above his door. The roses mean -silence—or, at least, that all things that pass -under them shall be sweetened by the breath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>of hospitality; and he adds a little to the -smile of kindly tolerance, and he paints it as -a sneer. “You must forgive me for telling -you,” he whispers, when he is safely sheltered -beneath your friend’s garland of roses; “but -Theseus spoke of you the other night in a -way that made my blood boil.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>And then the friendship of years is snapped; -and then the harmless jest, in which Theseus’s -friend would have delighted even at his own -expense if he had been present, becomes a -jagged bullet in an ulcerated wound. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sub -rosâ</span></i> was a good phrase with the old Latins, -but who minds it now? It went out of -fashion when the public began to pay newspaper -reporters for looking through keyholes, -and for stabbing the hearts of the innocent -in trying to prove somebody guilty. It -went out of fashion when private letters became -public property and a man might, -without fear of disgrace, print, or sell to be -printed, any scrap of paper belonging to another -that had fallen into his hands.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A very wise man—a gentle man and a loyal -man—once said, “A man may be judged by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>what he believes.” If we could learn the -truth of this early in life, what harm could -be done us by the creature who tears the -thorns out of our hospitable roses, and goes -about lacerating hearts with them? When -we hear that Jason has called us a fool, we -should not be so ready to cry out with all -our breath that he is a scoundrel—because -we should not be so ready to believe that -Jason, who was a decent fellow yesterday, -should suddenly have become the hater of a -good friend to-day. And when, under stress -of unrighteous indignation, we have called -Jason a scoundrel, the listener can hardly -wait until he has informed Jason of the enormity; -“and thereby hangs a tale.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>But when we get older and wiser, we do -not ask many people to sit under our roses; -and those whom we ask we trust implicitly. -In time—so happily is our experience—we -believe no evil of any man with whom we -have ever cordially shaken hands. Then we -begin to enjoy life; and we, too, choose our -acquaintances by their unwillingness to believe -evil of others. And as for the man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>who has eaten our salt, we become so optimistic -about him that we would not even -believe that he could write a stupid book; -and that is the <em>nirvâna</em> of belief in one’s -friends.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Less manners, we pray—less talk about -the handling of a fork and the angle of a -bow, and more respect for the roses. Of -course, one of us may have said yesterday, -after dinner, that Jason ought not to talk so -much about his brand-new coat-of-arms; or -that Ariadne, who was a widow, you know, -might cease to chant the praise of number -one in the presence of number two. But do -we not admire the solid qualities of both -Jason and Ariadne? And yet who shall -make them believe that when the little serpent -wriggles from our hearthstone to theirs?</p> - -<p class='c013'>It is a settled fact that young people must -be amused. It is a settled fact, or rather an -accepted fact, that they must be amused -much more than their predecessors were -amused. It is useless to ask why. Life in -the United States has become more complicated, -more artificial, more civilized, if you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>will; and that Jeffersonian simplicity which -De Tocqueville and De Bacourt noted has -almost entirely disappeared. The theatre -has assumed more license than ever; it -amuses—it does not attempt to instruct; -and spectacles are tolerated by decent people -which would have been frowned upon some -years ago. There is no question that the -drama is purer than it ever was before; but -the spectacle, the idiotic farce, and the light -opera are more silly and more indecent than -within the memory of man. The toleration -of these things all shows that, in the craving -for amusement, high principle and reasonable -rules of conduct are forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A serious question of social importance is: -How can the rage for amusement be kept -within proper bounds? How can it be regulated? -How can it be prevented from -making the heart and the head empty and -even corrupt? In many ways our country -and our time are serious enough. We need, -perhaps, a touch of that cheerful lightness -which makes the life of the Viennese and of -the Parisian agreeable and bright—which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>enables him to get color and interest into the -most commonplace things. But our lightness -and cheerfulness are likely to be spasmodic -and extravagant. We are not pleased -with little things; it takes a great deal to -give us delight; our children are men and -women too early; we do not understand -simplicity—unless it is sold at a high price -with an English label on it. Luxuries have -become necessities, and even the children -demand refinements of enjoyment of which -their parents did not dream in the days gone -by.</p> - -<p class='c013'>And yet the essence of American social -life ought to be simplicity. We have no -traditions to support; a merely rich man -without a great family name owes nothing -to society, except to help those poorer than -himself; he has not inherited those great -establishments which your English or Spanish -high lord must keep up or tarnish the -family name. We have no great families in -America whose traditions are not those of -simplicity and honesty, and these are the -only traditions they are bound to cherish. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>In this way our aristocracy—if we have such -a thing—ought to be the purest in the world -and the most simple. There is no reason -why we should pick up all the baubles that -the effete folk of the Old World are throwing -away.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Whether we are to achieve simplicity, and -consequently cheerfulness, in every-day life -depends entirely on the women. It is remarkable -how many Catholic women bred in -good schools enter society and run a mad -race in search of frivolities. In St. Francis -de Sales’s “Letters to People in the World” -there is a record of a lady “who had long -remained in such subjection to the humors -of her husband, that in the very height of -her devotions and ardors she was obliged to -wear a low dress, and was all loaded with -vanity outside; and, except at Easter, could -never communicate unless secretly and unknown -to every one—and yet she rose high -in sanctity.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>But St. Francis de Sales had other words -for those women of the world who rushed -into all the complications of luxury, and yet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>who defended their frivolity by the phrase -“duty to society.” The woman who serves -her children best serves society. And she -best serves her children by cultivating her -heart and mind to the utmost; and by teaching -them that one of the best things in life -is simplicity, and that it is much easier to be -a Christian when one is content with a little -than when one is constantly discontented -with a great deal. If the old New England -love for simplicity in the ordinary way of life -could be revived among Catholics, and sanctified -by the amiable spirit of St. Francis -of Assisi, the world would be a better -place.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Father Faber tells us what even greater -men have told us before—that each human -being has his vocation in life. And we nearly -all accept it as true, but the great difficulty -is to realize it. Ruskin says that work is not -a curse; but that a man must like his work, -feel that he can do it well, and not have too -much of it to do. The sum of all this means -that he shall be contented in his work, and -find his chief satisfaction in doing it well. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>It is not what we do, but <em>how</em> we do it, that -makes success.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The greatest enemy to a full understanding -of the word vocation among Americans -is the belief that it means solely the acquirement -of money. And the reason for this lies -not in the character of the American—who -is no more mercenary than other people—but -in the idea that wealth is within the -grasp of any man who works for it. The -money standard, therefore, is the standard -of success. But success to the eyes of the -world is not always success to the man himself. -The accumulation of wealth often -leaves him worn-out, dissatisfied, with a feeling -that he has somehow missed the best of -life. That man has probably missed his -vocation and done the wrong thing, in spite -of the opinion outside of himself that he has -succeeded.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The frequent missing of vocations in life -is due to false ideas about education. The -parent tries to throw all the responsibility of -education on the teacher, and the teacher -has no time for individual moulding. A boy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>grows up learning to read and to write, like -other boys. He may be apt with his head -or his hands, but how few parents see the -aptitude in the right light! It ought to be -considered and seriously cultivated. The -tastes of youth may not always be indications -of the future: they often change with circumstances -and surroundings. But they are -just as often unerring indications of the direction -in which the child’s truest success in the -world will lie. If a boy play at swinging a -censer when he is little, or enjoy the sight of -burning candles on a toy altar, it is not an -infallible sign that he will be a priest. And -yet the rosary that young Newman drew on -his slate, when he was a boy, doubtless -meant something.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“The thoughts of youth are long, long -thoughts,” Longfellow sings. He who comprehends -them gets near to the heart of -youth. But who tries to do it? The boy is -as great an enigma to his father, as a rule, as -the old sphinx in the Egyptian desert is to -passing travellers. And who but his father -ought to have the key to the boy’s mind, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>find his way into its recesses so gently and -carefully that the question of his child’s -vocation would be an easy one for him to -answer?</p> - -<p class='c013'>If the religious vocations in this country -are not equal in number to what they ought -to be, we may attribute it to these two causes: -the general desire to make money, and the -placid indifference of parents. A boy is sent -to “school”—school implying a sort of factory -from which human creatures are turned out -polished and finished, but not ready for any -special work in a world which demands -specialists. And what is specialism but -the industrious working out of a vocation?</p> - -<p class='c013'>God is very good to a man when that man -is true to his vocation. To be content in -one’s work is almost happiness. To do one’s -work for the eyes of God is to be as near -happiness as any creature can come to it in -this world. Fortunate are they who, like the -old sculptors of the roof of “the cathedral -over sea,” learn early in life, as Miss Eleanor -Donnelly puts it,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>“That nothing avails us under the sun,</div> - <div class='line'>In word or in work, save that which is done</div> - <div class='line'>For the honor and glory of God alone.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Direction and coercion are two different -things. The parents who mistake one for -the other make a fatal error. Direction is -the flower, coercion the weed that grows -beside it, and kills its strength and sweetness.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The true gospel of work begins with the -consideration of vocation, and the prayers -and the appeals to the sacraments that -ought to accompany it. This is the genesis -of that gospel. It is true that if a man can -be helped to take care of the first twenty -years of his life, the last twenty years will -take care of him. Those who find their -vocation are blessed—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“And they are the sculptors whose works shall last,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Whose names shall shine as the stars on high,</div> - <div class='line'>When deep in the dust of a ruined past</div> - <div class='line in2'>The labors of selfish souls shall lie.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span> - <h2 class='c007'>XI. The Little Joys of Life.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>Has enthusiasm gone out of fashion? -Are the young no longer hero-worshippers? -A recent writer complains of the -sadness of American youth. “The absence -of animal spirits among our well-to-do -young people is a striking contrast to the -exuberance of that quality in most European -countries,” says this author, in the <cite>Atlantic -Monthly</cite>.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Our young people laugh very much, but -they are not, as a rule, cheerful; and they -are amiable only when they “feel like being -amiable.” This is the most fatal defect in -American manners among the young. The -consideration for others shown only when a -man is entirely at peace with himself is not -politeness at all: it is the most unrefined -manifestation of selfishness.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Before we condemn the proverbial artificiality -of the French, let us contrast it with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>the brutality of the average carper at this -artificiality. “A Frenchman,” he will say, -“will lift his hat to you, but he would not -give you a sou if you were starving.” Let -us take that assertion for its full value. We -are not starving; we do not want his sou, but -we do want to have our every-day life made -as pleasant as possible. And is your average -brutal and bluff and uncivilized creature the -more anxious to give his substance to the -needy because he is ready on all occasions -to tread on the toes of his neighbor? He -holds all uttered pleasant things to be lies, -and the suppression of the brutal a sin -against truth. One sees this personage too -often not to understand him well. He is -half civilized. King Henry VIII. was of -this kind—charming, bluff old fellow, bubbling -over with truth and frankness, slapping -Sir Thomas More on the back, and full of -delicious horseplay, when his dinner agreed -with him! It is easy to comprehend that -the high politeness of the best of the French -is the result of the finest civilization. No -wonder Talleyrand looked back and said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>that no man really enjoyed life who had not -lived before the Revolution.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But why should enthusiasm have gone -out? Why should the young have no -heroes? Have the newspaper joke, the -levity of Ingersoll and the irreverence of -the stump-speakers, the cynicism of <em>Puck</em> -and the insolence of <em>Judge</em>, driven out -enthusiasm? George Washington is mentioned—what -inextinguishable laughter follows!—the -cherry-tree, the little hatchet! -What novel wit that name suggests! One -<em>must</em> laugh, it is so funny! And, then, the -scriptural personages! The paragraphers -have made Job so very amusing; and Joseph -and Daniel!—how stupid people must be -who do not roar with laughter at the mere -mention of these august names!</p> - -<p class='c013'>Cannot this odious, brutal laughter, which -is not manly or womanly, be stopped? Ridicule -cannot kill it, but an appeal to all the -best feelings of the human heart might; for -all the best feelings of the human heart are -outraged. How funny death has become! -When shall we grow tired of the joke about -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>the servant who lighted the fire with kerosene, -and went above; or the quite too -awfully comical <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</span></i> about the boy -who ate green apples, and is no more? These -jokes are in the same taste that would put -the hair of a skeleton into curl-papers. Still -we laugh.</p> - -<p class='c013'>A nation without reverence has begun to -die: its feet are cold, though it may still -grin. A nation whose youth are without -enthusiasm has no future beyond the piling -up of dollars. It is not so with our country -yet; but the fact remains: enthusiasm is dying, -and hero-worship needs revival.</p> - -<p class='c013'>One can easily understand why, among -Catholics, there is not as much hero-worship -as there ought to be. It is because our -greatest heroes are not even mentioned in -current literature, and because they are not -well presented to our young people. St. -Francis Xavier was a greater hero than -Nelson; yet Nelson is popularly esteemed -the more heroic, because Southey wrote his -life well. But St. Francis’s life is written for -the mystic, for the devotee. It is right, of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>course; but our young people are not all -mystics or devotees; consequently St. Francis -seems afar off—a saint to be vaguely -remembered, but nothing more.</p> - -<p class='c013'>If the saints whose heroism appeals most -to the young could be brought nearer to the -natural young person, they would soon be as -friends, daily companions—heroes, not distant -beings whose halos guard them from -contact. One need only know St. Francis -of Assisi to be very fond of him. He had a -sense of humor, too, but no sense of levity. -And yet the only readable life of this hero -and friend has been written by a Protestant. -(I am not recommending it, for there are -some things which Mrs. Oliphant does not -understand.) And there is St. Ignatius -Loyola. And there is St. Charles Borromeo—<em>that</em> -was a man! And St. Philip Neri, -who had a sense of humor, and was entirely -civilized at the same time. And St. Francis -of Sales! His “Letters to Persons in the -World” make one wish that he had not -died so soon. What tact, what knowledge -of the world! How well he persuades -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>people without diplomacy, by the force of a -fine nature open to the grace of God!</p> - -<p class='c013'>Our young people need only know the -saints—not out of Alban Butler’s sketches, -but illumined with reality—to be filled with -an enthusiasm which Carlyle would have -had them waste on the wrong kind of -heroes.</p> - -<p class='c013'>One of the most interesting pictures of a -priest in American literature—which of late -abounds in pictures of good priests—is -that of Père Michaux, in Miss Woolson’s -novel “Anne.” He believed that “all should -live their lives, and that one should not be a -slave to others; that the young should be -young, and that some natural, simple pleasure -should be put into each twenty-four -hours. They might be poor, but children -should be made happy; they might be poor, -but youth should not be overwhelmed by the -elders’ cares; they might be poor, but they -could have family love around the poorest -hearthstone; and there was always time for -a little pleasure, if they would seek it simply -and moderately.”</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>But Père Michaux was French: he had not -been corrupted by that American Puritanism -which has, somehow or other, got into the -blood of even the Irish Celts on this side of -the Atlantic. Pleasures are not spontaneous -or simple, and joy is only possible after a -long period of worry. Simple pleasures—the -honest little wild flowers that peep up between -the every-day crevices of each twenty-four -hours—are neglected because we have -not been taught to see them. Life may be -serious without being sad; but, influenced -by the Puritan gloom, sadness and seriousness -have come to be confounded.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Man was not made to be sad. Unless -something is wrong with him, he is not sad -by temperament. And sadness ought to be -repressed in early youth. The sad child in -the stories is pathetic, but the authors generally -have the good sense to kill him when -he is young. The sad child in real life ought -not to be tolerated. And if his parents have -made him sad by putting their burden of the -trials of life on him so early, they have done -him irreparable wrong. Simple pleasures are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>the sunlight of life; and the little plants -struggle to the sunshine and find light for -themselves, darken their dwelling-place as -you will. The frown in the household, the -scolding voice, the impatience with childish -folly—all these things are against the practice -of the Church and her saints. The -Catholic sentiment is one of joy—not the -Sabbath any more, but the Sunday, the day -of smiles, of rejoicing; the day on which, as -old Christian legends have it, the sun is supposed -to dance in honor of the first Easter.</p> - -<p class='c013'>How much the French and Germans, who -have not lost the Catholic traditions, make -of the little joys of life! If the grandfather’s -name-day come, there is the pot of flowers, -the little cake with its ornaments. And how -many other feasts are made by the poorest -of them out of what the Americans, rich by -comparison, would look on but as a patch -upon his poverty! There should be no dark -days for the young. It is so easy to make -them happy, if they have not been distorted -by their surroundings out of the capability -of enjoying little pleasures. The mother who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>teaches her daughters that poverty is not -death to all joy, and that the enjoyment of -simple things makes life easier and keeps -people younger—such a mother is kinder to -her girls, gives them a better gift than the -diamond necklace which the spoiled girl -craves, and then finds good only so far as it -excites envy in others.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Children should not be made to bear a -weight of sadness. That girl will not long -for an electric doll if she has been taught to -get the poetry of life out of a rag-baby. And -the boy will not pine for an improved bicycle, -and sulk without it, if he has learned to swim. -The greatest pleasures are the easiest had—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Each ounce of dross costs an ounce of gold;</div> - <div class='line in2'>For a cap and bells our lives we pay;</div> - <div class='line'>Bubbles we buy with a whole soul’s tasking:</div> - <div class='line in2'>’Tis Heaven alone that is given away,—</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis only God may be had for the asking.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Those who have suffered and borne suffering -best are the most anxious that the young -should enjoy the simple joys of life. Like -this Père Michaux, they look for a little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>pleasure in each twenty-four hours. Is it a -wild rose laid by a plate at the simple dinner, -a new story, a romp, ungrudging permission -for some small relaxation of the ordinary -rules, or a brave attempt to keep sorrow -away from the young? No matter; it is a -little thing done for the Holy Child and for -childhood, that ought to be holy and joyous.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There is a commercial axiom that declares -that we get out of anything just as much -as we put into it. This may be true in -trade or not; it is certainly true of other -things in life.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When the frost begins to make the blood -tingle, and the glow of neighborly fires has -more than usual comfort for the passer-by, -as he sees them through windows and thinks -of his own, the fragrance of home seems to -rise more strongly than ever, and then there -is a longing that the home-circle may revolve -around a common centre. Sometimes this -longing takes the form of resolutions to -make life more cheerful; and sometimes -even the father wonders if he, in some way, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>cannot make home more attractive. As a -rule, however, he leaves it to the mother; -and if the young people yawn and want to -go out, it must be her fault. The truth is, -he expects to reap without having sown.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Home can be made cheerful only by an -effort. Why, even friendship and love will -perish if they are not cultivated; and so if -the little virtues of life—the little flowers—are -not carefully tended they must die. -Young people cannot be imprisoned or kept -at home by force. We cannot get over the -change that has come about—a change that -has eliminated the old iron hand and rod -from family life. We must take things as -they are. And the only way to direct the -young, to influence, to help them, is to interest -them.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Books are resources and consolation; -study is a resource and consolation. Both -are strong factors in the best home-life; and -the man who can look back with gratitude -to the time when, around the home-lamp, he -made one of the circle about his father’s -table, has much to be thankful for; and we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>venture to assert that the coming man whose -father will give him such a remembrance to -be thankful for can never be an outcast, or -grow cold, or bitter, or cynical.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But the taste for books does not come -always by nature: it must be cultivated. And -everything between covers is not a book; -and a taste for books cannot be cultivated in -a bookless house. It may be said that there -is no Catholic literature, or that it is very -expensive to buy books, or that it is difficult -to get a small number of the best books, or -to be sure that one has the best in a small -compass.</p> - -<p class='c013'>None of these things is true—none of -them. There is a vast Catholic literature, and -a vast literature, not professedly Catholic, -which is good and pure, which will stimulate -a desire for study, and help to cultivate -every quality of the mind and heart. Does -anybody realize how many good books twelve -or fifteen dollars will buy nowadays? And, -after all, there are not fifty really <em>great</em> -books in all languages. If one have fifty -books, one has the best literature in all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>languages. A book-shelf thus furnished is a -treasure which neither adversity nor fatigue -nor sickness itself can take away. Each -child may even have his own book-shelf, with -his favorites on it, and such volumes as treat -of his favorite hobby—for every child old -enough should have a hobby, even if it be -only the collecting of pebbles, and every -chance should be given to enjoy his hobby -and to develop it into a serious study. A -little fellow who used to range his pebbles -on the table in the lamplight, and get such -hints as he could about them out of an old -text-book, is a great geologist. And a little -girl who used to hang over her very own -copy of Adelaide Procter’s poems is spoken -of as one of the cleverest newspaper men -(though she is a woman) in the city of New -York. The taste of the early days, encouraged -in a humble way, became the talent -which was to make their future.</p> - -<p class='c013'>There should be no bookless house in all -this land—least of all among Catholics, -whose ancestors in Christ preserved all that -is great in literature. Let the trashy novels, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>paper-backed, soiled, borrowed or picked -up, be cast out. Let the choosing of books -not be left to mere chance. A little brains -put into it will be returned with more than -its first value. What goes into the precious -minds of the young ought not to be carelessly -chosen. And it is true that, in the -beginning, it is the easiest possible thing to -interest young people in good and great -books. But if one lets them wallow in -whatever printed stuff happens to come in -their way, one finds it hard to conduct them -back again. Let the books be carefully chosen—a -few at a time—be laid within the circle -of the evening lamp—and God bless you all!</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='small'>PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - </li> - <li>Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gentleman, by Maurice Francis Egan - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 62712-h.htm or 62712-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/7/1/62712/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chris Curnow, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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