Here the silvery laugh of Mrs. V---- interrupted the Russian. "Excuse me," said she, "I remember it!--that old porter, who always makes a mistake, if it is possible, has so often annoyed me, that this time I was determined, as it was a person I much wished to see, not to lose my visitor through him, so, after waiting some time in one of these rooms, I went to him to inquire, and sent him to the office, when I found that my poor friend was waiting _there_, while I waited _here_. Observing a gentleman who seemed already to have required his services, I bade him go first for him, of course. '_Apres vous, madame, je vous prie_,'[3]

said he, with the most courtly air;--so that was Sir C---- G----?"

[3] After you are served, madam, I beg.

"Yes, madam," answered the _savant_, "but it was _your_ air that was remarkable! Sir C---- told me that while you both were waiting there you addressed some polite remark to him, _pour pa.s.ser le temps_, and that he thought you were not an American lady, _because you spoke to him_!"

"Speaking of _not speaking_," said I, when the general amus.e.m.e.nt had abated, "reminds me of an amusing little scene that I once witnessed in the public parlor of a New England tavern, where I was compelled to wait several hours for a stage-coach. Presently there entered a bustling, sprightly-looking little personage, who, after frisking about the room, apparently upon a tour of inspection, finally settled herself very comfortably in the large cushioned rocking-chair--the only one in the room--and was soon, as I had no reason to doubt, sound asleep. It was not long, however, before a noise of some one entering aroused her, and a tall, gaunt old Yankee woman, hung round with countless bags, bonnet-boxes, and nondescript appendages of various sizes and kinds, presented herself to our vision. After slowly relieving herself of the numberless inc.u.mbrances that impeded her progress in life, she turned to a young man who accompanied her, and said, in a tone so peculiarly shrill, that it might have been mistaken, at this day, for a railroad whistle:

"'Now, Jonathan, don't let no gra.s.s grow under your feet while you go for them tooth-ache drops; I am a'mos' crazy with pain!' laying a hand upon the affected spot as she spoke; 'and here,' she called out, as the door was closing upon her messenger, 'just get my box filled at the same time!' diving, with her disengaged hand, into the unknown depths of, seemingly, the most capacious of pockets, and bringing to light a shining black box, of sufficient size to hold all the jewels of a modern belle, 'I thought I brought along my snuff-bladder, but I don't know where I put it, my head is so stirred up.'

"By this time the little woman in the rocking-chair was fairly aroused, and rising, she courteously offered her seat to the stranger, her accent at once betraying her claim to be ranked with the politest of nations (a bow, on my part, to the fair foreigner in the group). With a prolonged stare, the old woman coolly ensconced herself in the vacated seat, making not the slightest acknowledgment of the civility she had received. Presently, she began to groan, rocking herself furiously at the same time. The former occupant of the stuffed chair, who had retired to a window, and perched herself in one of a long row of high wooden seats, hurried to the sufferer. 'I fear, madame,' said she, 'that you suffare ver' much:--vat can I do for you?' The representative of Yankeedom might have been a wooden clock-case for all the response she made to this amiable inquiry, unless her rocking more furiously than ever might be construed into a reply.

"The little Frenchwoman, apparently wholly unable to cla.s.s so anomalous a specimen of humanity, cautiously retreated.

"Before I was summoned away, the tooth-ache drops and the snuff together (both administered in large doses!) seemed to have gradually produced the effect of oil poured upon troubled waters.

"The sprightly Frenchwoman again ventured upon the theatre of action.

"'You find yourself now much improved, madame?' she asked, with considerable vivacity. A very slight nod was the only answer.

"'And you feel dis _fauteuil_, really ver' _com-for-ta-ble_?' pursued the little woman, with augmented energy of voice. Another nod was just discernable.

"No intonation of mine can do justice to the very ecstasy of impatience with which the pertinacious questioner now actually _screamed_ out:

"'_Bien_, madame, _vil you say so_, if you please!'"

I meant to repeat an impressive little story told us by my lovely friend, Mrs. V----, before our merry little party separated that night; but, even were this letter not already too "long drawn out," I find my head in very much the condition of that of the old Yankee woman, whom, I trust, I have immortalized, and will, therefore, reserve it for another time, hoping that you will pay me the compliment to recollect my description of my _dramatis personae_ until then.

Meanwhile, here is one other anecdote for you:

During my usual morning ride, one day lately, I stopped to breathe my horse on the top of a little hill, in the suburbs of one of the villages upon the banks of the Hudson. While enjoying the beauty of the fine landscape before me, my horse, all on a sudden, started violently. I presently discovered the cause of his fright. Some little rascals were at play in the unenclosed yard of an old building near, and one of them was throwing lumps of earth, pieces of broken crockery, rusty sheet-iron, etc., upon the plank-walk in front. As I turned my head towards them, a little urchin who was perched upon a k.n.o.b of the root of a tree, with his hands upon his knees, cried out, energetically: "There now, look-a there! Ain't you a pretty fellow? dirtying up the walk so, when people are going by." His little freckled face expressed real concern, as he looked fixedly up the walk. Glancing in the same direction, I saw an elegantly-dressed lady carefully gathering up her dress, preparatory to encountering the sharp obstacles in her path, and at once understood the cause of the reproof I had overheard, and which I a.s.sure you, I have transcribed _verbatim_, though the phrase "pretty fellow" may seem incongruous in the mouth of a dirty little Irish boy. I only hope the lady--whose gentle smile indicated that she too understood the scene--was compensated for being so incommoded, by discerning the _inbred politeness_ of her little champion.

As it is your desire that I should deal rather with practical realities than with generalities or theories, let us come in my next, without preliminaries, to plain suggestions, presented somewhat in detail, with the usual simplicity and frankness of that "plain, blunt man,"

Your affectionate uncle HAL.

LETTER IV.

MANNER CONTINUED:--PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS.

MY DEAR NEPHEWS:

If I rightly remember, I concluded my last letter to my young correspondents with a promise of attempting in my next, some _practical directions_ in regard to Manner. I will, then, commence, at once premising only in the impressive words of the immortal senator, who just at present holds so large a s.p.a.ce in the world's eye: "In now opening this great matter, I am not insensible to the austere demands of the occasion."

Important as Manner undoubtedly is, in every relation of life, the cultivation of an unexceptionable deportment _at home_, may, perhaps, be regarded as of primary consequence, in securing the happiness at which all aim, though by means,

----"variable as the shade, By the light, quivering aspen made."

I think I have already incidentally alluded to the bad taste, to give it no severer name, so commonly exhibited by young persons in this country, in their conduct towards _parents_. Let nothing tempt _you_, I pray you, into habits so discreditable. Manhood is never depreciated by any true estimate, when yielding tribute to the claims of age.--Towards your _father_ preserve always a deferential manner, mingled with a certain frankness, indicating that thorough confidence, that entire understanding of each other, which is the best guarantee of good sense in both, and of inestimable value to every young man, blessed with a right-minded parent. Accept the advice dictated by experience with respect, receive even reproof without impatience of manner, and hasten to prove afterwards, that you cherish no resentful remembrance of what may even have seemed to you too great severity, or too manifest an a.s.sumption of authority. Heed the counsel of an old man, who "through the loop-holes of retreat" looks calmly on the busy tide of life rolling forever onward, and let the sod that closes over the heart that throbs no more even with affection and anxiety for you, leave for you only the pain of parting--not the haunting demon of _remorse_. Allow no false pride, no const.i.tutional obstinacy, to interfere with the better impulses of your nature, in your intercourse with your father, or to interrupt for an hour the manly trust that should be between you. And in the inner temple of _home_, as well as when the world looks on, render him reverence due.

There should be mingled with the habitual deference and attention that marks your manner to your _mother_, the indescribable tenderness and rendering back of care and watchfulness that betokens remembrance of her love in earlier days. No other woman should ever induce you to forget this truest, most disinterested friend, nor should your manner ever indicate even momentary indifference to her wishes or her affection. Permit me again to refer you to the example of _our country's pride_ in this regard. You will all remember his marked attention, through life, to his only parent, and the fact that his first appearance in public, on a festive occasion, after the triumph of Yorkstown, was in attendance upon his mother at the ball given at Fredericksburgh, in celebration of that event. A fair friend of mine, who has written the most enthusiastically-appreciative description of this memorable scene that I remember to have read, characterizes the manner of Washington as ill.u.s.trating the _moral sublime_, to a degree that filled all beholders with admiration. But no one needs the examples of history, or the promptings of friendship, to convince him of a duty to which the impulses of nature unmistakably direct him: all that I, for a moment, suppose you require, is to be reminded that no thoughtlessness should permit your _manner_ to do injustice to your feelings, in this sacred relation of life.

The familiarity of domestic intercourse should never degenerate into a rude disregard for the restraints imposed by refinement, nor an unfeeling indifference to the feelings of others. With brothers and sisters even, the sense of equality should be tempered by habitual self-restraint and courtesy. "No man is great to his _valet de chambre_"--no man grows, by the superior gifts of nature, or by the power of circ.u.mstance, beyond the genial familiarity of domestic intercourse. You may be older and wiser than your _brothers_, but no prerogatives of birthright, of education, or of intellect can excuse a.s.sumption, or make amends for the rupture of the natural tie that is best strengthened by affectionate consideration and respect.

To his _sisters_, every man owes a peculiar obligation arising from the claim nature gives them to his protection, as well as to his love and sympathy. Nor is this relative claim wholly abrogated even by their being older than he. The attributes and the admitted rights of our s.e.x give even younger brothers the privilege,--and such every well const.i.tuted man will consider it,--of a.s.suming towards such relations the position of a friend, confidant and guardian. And the manner of _a gentleman_ will always indicate, unmistakably, the delicacy, the consideration and the respect he considers due to them. I will not a.s.sume the possibility of your being indifferent to their love and interest; suffice it to say, that both will be best deserved and preserved by a careful admingling of the observances of politeness practised towards other women, with the playful freedom sanctioned by consanguinity. The world will give you no subst.i.tutes for the friends nature provides--they are bound to you by all ties unitedly. Be ever mindful that no rude touch of yours, sunders or even weakens the tenderest chords of the heart.

Since

----"modest the manners by Nature bestowed On Nature's most exquisite child,"

a man's conduct towards his _wife_ should always indicate respect as well as politeness. No rude familiarity should outrage the delicacy that veils femininity, no outward indifference or neglect betoken disregard of the sacred claims of the woman, whom, next to his mother, every man is bound in honor, to distinguish beyond all others, by courteous observance. If you consider the affection you doubtless took some pains, originally, to win, worth preserving, if you think it of any moment to retain the attributes ascribed to you by the object of that affection, while you made the endeavor to do full justice to yourself in the eyes of your _mistress_,[4] would it be wise to prefer no further claims to such characteristics by your manner to your _wife_? I have never forgotten the impression made upon me in youth by an exquisite letter in one of Addison's Spectators, purporting to be written by an old woman, in regard, if I remember, to the very point we are now discussing. It contains, as inclosed to the Solon of polite laws in that day, a note represented to have been written to her, by the husband of the lady, from a London coffee-house, upon some emergency, which is the very embodiment of gentle courtesy, and concluding with a respectful apology for the coa.r.s.e paper, and other unseemly appliances of the communication. "Could you see the withered hand that indites this, dear Mr. Spectator," says the correspondent of Addison, "you would be still more impressed by the gallantry that remains thus unimpaired by time,"

or words to that effect. I have not the original to transcribe from, and the copy in my _mental tablets_ is a little dimmed by the wear of years.

But though the exact phraseology of the number I allude to is indistinct, I repeat that I have a thousand times recalled the substance with the same pure pleasure and admiration. I have not half done justice to it, and, indeed, I am almost ashamed to have so poorly sketched a picture whose beauty you may best appreciate by personal inspection. No tyro should attempt a copy of the production of an _old master_--especially when the mental magician fails to place the original before his mind's eye,

"Pictured fair, in memory's mystic gla.s.s."

But if you do not despise such old-fashioned literature as the writings of the English cla.s.sic authors--and certainly, without undue prejudice in their favor, I may venture, I think, to say, that a knowledge of the writings of such men as Johnson, Goldsmith, Burke, and Addison, should make part of the education of every gentleman--if you will look up this elegant essay, and read it for yourselves, I can safely promise you ample remuneration for your trouble.

[4] I shall take the liberty to use the word "_mistress_," throughout these letters, in the sense appropriated to it by Addison, Johnson, and other English cla.s.sic authors. _Sweetheart_ is too old-fashioned.

"_Lady-love_" suits the style of my fashionable nieces, better than mine. _Mistress_ is an authorized Saxon word, of well-defined meaning, though, like some others, perverted to a bad use, at times.

Do not degrade your own ideal by a too minute scrutiny, nor forget that the shrine of the _Lares_, though it may be approached with the simplest offerings, is desecrated by even a momentary forgetfulness that its votaries should be

"_Content to dwell in decencies, forever!_"

The chosen friend of your life, the presiding genius of your home, the mother of your children, then, not only claims the high place of trust and confidence, but _the proof afforded by manner_ of the existence and dominance of these sentiments.

Many men, with the kindest feelings and the clearest perceptions of duty, are, from mere inadvertency, un.o.bservant of the fact that they habitually give pain to those dependent on them for consideration, by neglecting those _graces of manner_ that lend a charm to the most trifling actions. Remember, while you are forming habits, in this respect, how sensitively const.i.tuted are the gentler s.e.x, how easily pained, how easily pleased. The more discriminating and affectionate is woman, the more readily is she wounded. Like a harp of a thousand strings, her nature, if rudely approached, is jarred responsively, while the gentlest touch elicits an harmonious thrill. The delightful _abandon_ that const.i.tutes one of the most exquisite enjoyments of home, is not augmented, for a man of true refinement, by a total disregard of ceremony and self-restraint. Selfishness, ill-humor, and a spirit of petty tyranny, rest a.s.sured, though their manifestation be confined to home intercourse, and borne in silence there, will gradually undermine character and essentially diminish domestic happiness.

Earnestly, therefore, do I admonish my youthful relatives to cultivate a careful observance of the requisitions of what has been well designated as "_domestic politeness_." Confer favors with ready cheerfulness, or, if necessary, refuse them with an expression of regret, or a polite explanation. Never repel solicitations, much less caresses, with impatience, nor allow your bearing to indicate the reluctant discharge of a duty that should also be a pleasure. A smile, an intonation of affection, a glance of appreciation or acknowledgment--small artillery all, I grant, my boys, but they will suffice to make a _feu-de-joie_ in a loving heart, that will, each and every one of them, cause you to be followed in the th.o.r.n.y path of daily life by a blessing that will not harm you; they will secure you a welcome, when, world-worn, you shall 'homeward plod your weary way,' worth all the gold you have gathered, and well rewarding all the toil you have encountered.

I will only add, in this connection, that manhood is enn.o.bled by the habitual exercise of delicate forbearance towards _helplessness_ and _dependence_, and that a high test of character is the right _use of power_. Those, then, whom nature teaches to look to you for affection, as well as for care and protection--your mother, wife, sisters--should invariably derive from your _manner_ evidence of the steadfastness of your interest and regard for them.

Like most of the aphorisms of the ancients for subtle wisdom, is the saying, "We should reverence the presence of children." Fresh from the creating hand of Deity, they are committed to us. While yet unstained by the pollutions of the world, should we not render a certain homage to their pristine purity and innocence? Should we not hesitate by exhibitions of such qualities of our nature as are happily still dormant in them, to force them into precocious development? The silent _teaching of example_ tells most effectively upon the young for the reason that they are insensibly forming in imitation of the models before them, without the disadvantages of previous habit, or of diminished impressibility. It is no light sin, then, either in our manner towards them, or towards others in their presence, to obtrude a false standard of propriety upon their notice. If manner be, as we have a.s.sumed, active manifestation of character, the ductile minds of these nice observers and ceaseless imitators must be indeed seriously under its influences.

That careful study of individual peculiarities which paternal duty imperatively demands, will readily suggest the proper modification of manner demanded by each different child in a household. It is said that children are never mistaken judges of character. Certain it is, at least, that they instinctively discern their true friends, and that of the "Kingdom of Heaven," as by divine a.s.sertion they are--the _Law of Love_, attempered in its administration by practical good sense, is the most effective influence that can be brought to bear upon them. Permit me to recall to your remembrance the _tenderness_ that distinguished the manner of Christ towards little children.

Pre-supposing as I have done, thus far in this letter, and as I shall continue to do, throughout our correspondence, that you regard moral obligation as the grand incentive to the correct discipline even of the outer man, arrogating to myself only the office of the lapidary,--that of endeavoring to polish, not create, the priceless jewel of _principle_, I shall make no apology for the suggestion, that manner should not be regarded as beneath the attention of a Christian gentleman, in his intercourse with such inmates of his household as may from any circ.u.mstance be peculiarly sensitive to indications of negligent observance. The _aged_, the _infirm_, the _insignificant_, the _dependent_; all, in short, who are particularly afflicted "in mind, body, or estate," are suitable recipients of the most expressive courtesies of manner.

Perhaps no single phase of _manner at home_ more correctly ill.u.s.trates nice mental and moral perceptions than the treatment of _servants_ and _inferiors_ generally. One may be just to the primary obligations evolved by this relation to others, and yet always receive the service of fear rather than of affection. All needless a.s.sumption of authority or superiority, in connection with this position, is indicative of inherent vulgarity, and is at as great a remove from a true standard as is undue familiarity. Never to manifest pleasure even by a smile, never to make an acknowledgment in words, of the kindly offices that money cannot adequately reward, may be very grand and stately, but such sublime elevation above one's fellow-creatures raises the heart to rather an Alpine att.i.tude--to a height at which the _milk of human kindness_ even, may congeal!