Reading that a sentinel had been punished the other day at St.
Petersburg for having omitted to present arms, as her Imperial
Highness, the Grand Duchess Olga, was leaving the winter
palace—in her nurse’s arms—I smiled at what
appeared to be needless punctilio; then, as is my habit, began
turning the subject over, and gradually came to the conclusion
that while it could doubtless be well to suppress much of the
ceremonial encumbering court life, it might not be amiss if we
engrafted a little more etiquette into our intercourse with
strangers and the home relations. In our dear free and
easy-going country there is a constant tendency to loosen the
ties of fireside etiquette until any manners are thought good
enough, as any toilet is considered sufficiently attractive for
home use. A singular impression has grown up that formal
politeness and the saying of gracious and complimentary things
betray the toady and the hypocrite, both if whom are abhorrent to
Americans.
By the force of circumstances most people are civil enough in
general society; while many fail to keep to their high standard
in the intimacy of home life and in their intercourse with
inferiors, which is a pity, as these are the two cases where
self-restraint and amenity are most required. Politeness
is, after all, but the dictate of a kind heart, and supplies the
oil necessary to make the social machinery run smoothly. In
home life, which is the association during many hours each day of
people of varying dispositions, views, and occupations, friction
is inevitable; and there is especial need of lubrication to
lessen the wear and tear and eliminate jarring.
Americans are always much shocked to learn that we are not
popular on the Continent. Such a discovery comes to either
a nation or an individual like a douche of cold water on nice,
warm conceit, and brings with it a feeling of discouragement, of
being unjustly treated, that is painful, for we are very
“touchy” in America, and cry out when a foreigner
expresses anything but admiration for our ways, yet we are the
last to lend ourselves to foreign customs.
It has been a home thrust for many of us to find that our dear
friends the French sympathized warmly with Spain in the recent
struggle, and had little but sneers for us. One of the
reasons for this partiality is not hard to discover.
The Spanish who travel are mostly members of an aristocracy
celebrated for its grave courtesy, which has gone a long way
toward making them popular on the Continent, while we have for
years been riding rough-shod over the feelings and prejudices of
the European peoples, under the pleasing but fallacious illusion
that the money we spent so lavishly in foreign lands would atone
for all our sins. The large majority of our travelling
compatriots forget that an elaborate etiquette exists abroad
regulating the intercourse between one class and another, the
result of centuries of civilization, and as the Medic and Persian
laws for durability. In our ignorance we break many of
these social laws and give offence where none was intended.
A single illustration will explain my meaning. A young
American girl once went to the mistress of a pension where
she was staying and complained that the concierge of the
house had been impertinent. When the proprietress asked the
concierge what this meant, the latter burst out with her
wrongs. “Since Miss B. has been in this house, she
has never once bowed to me, or addressed a word to either my
husband or myself that was not a question or an order; she walks
in and out of my loge to look for letters or take her key
as though my room were the street; I won’t stand such
treatment from any one, much less from a girl. The duchess
who lives au quatrième never passes without a kind
word or an inquiry after the children or my health.”
Now this American girl had erred through ignorance of the fact
that in France servants are treated as humble friends. The
man who brings your matutinal coffee says “Good
morning” on entering the room, and inquires if
“Monsieur has slept well,” expecting to be treated
with the same politeness he shows to you.
The lady who sits at the caisse of the restaurant you
frequent is as sure of her position as her customers are of
theirs, and exacts a courteous salutation from every one entering
or leaving her presence; logically, for no gentleman would enter
a ladies’ drawing-room without removing his hat. The
fact that a woman is obliged to keep a shop in no way relieves
him of this obligation.
People on the Continent know their friends’ servants by
name, and speak to them on arriving at a house, and thank them
for an opened door or offered coat; if a tip is given it is
accompanied by a gracious word. So rare is this form of
civility in America and England (for Britons err as gravely in
this matter as ourselves) that our servants are surprised and
inclined to resent politeness, as in the case of an English
butler who recently came to his master and said he should be
“obliged to leave.” On being questioned it came
out that one of the guests was in the habit of chatting with him,
“and,” added the Briton, “I won’t stand
being took liberties with by no one.”
Some years ago I happened to be standing in the vestibule of
the Hôtel Bristol as the Princess of Wales and her
daughters were leaving. Mr. Morlock, the proprietor, was at
the foot of the stairs to take leave of those ladies, who shook
hands with and thanked him for his attention during their stay,
and for the flowers he had sent. Nothing could have been
more gracious and freer from condescension than their manner, and
it undoubtedly produced the best impression. The waiter who
served me at that time was also under their charm, and remarked
several times that “there had never been ladies so easy to
please or so considerate of the servants.”
My neighbor at dinner the other evening confided to me that
she was “worn out being fitted.” “I had
such an unpleasant experience this morning,” she
added. “The jupière could not get one
of my skirts to hang properly. After a dozen attempts I
told her to send for the forewoman, when, to my horror, the girl
burst out crying, and said she should lose her place if I
did. I was very sorry for her, but what else could I
do?” It does not seem as if that lady could be very
popular with inferiors, does it?
That it needs a lighter hand and more tact to deal with
tradespeople than with equals is certain, and we are sure to be
the losers when we fail. The last time I was in the East a
friend took me into the bazaars to see a carpet he was anxious to
buy. The price asked was out of all proportion to its
value, but we were gravely invited by the merchant to be seated
and coffee was served, that bargaining (which is the backbone of
Oriental trade) might be carried on at leisure. My friend,
nervous and impatient, like all our race, turned to me and said,
“What’s all this tomfoolery? Tell him
I’ll give so much for his carpet; he can take it or leave
it.” When this was interpreted to the bearded
tradesman, he smiled and came down a few dollars in his price,
and ordered more coffee. By this time we were outside his
shop, and left without the carpet simply because my friend could
not conform to the customs of the country he was visiting.
The sale of his carpet was a big affair for the Oriental; he
intended to carry it through with all the ceremony the occasion
required, and would sooner not make a sale than be hustled out of
his stately routine.
It is not only in intercourse with inferiors that tact is
required. The treatment of children and young people in a
family calls for delicate handling. The habit of taking
liberties with young relations is a common form of a relaxed
social code and the besetting sin of elderly people, who, having
little to interest them in their own lives, imagine that their
mission is to reform the ways and manners of their family.
Ensconced behind the respect which the young are supposed to pay
them, they give free vent to inclination, and carp, cavil, and
correct. The victims may have reached maturity or even
middle age, but remain always children to these social policemen,
to be reproved and instructed in and out of season.
“I am doing this for your own good,” is an excuse
that apparently frees the veterans from the necessity of
respecting the prejudices and feelings of their pupils, and lends
a gloss of unselfishness to actions which are simply
impertinent. Oddly enough, amateur
“schoolmarms” who fall into this unpleasant habit are
generally oversensitive, and resent as a personal affront any
restlessness under criticism on the part of their victims.
It is easy, once the habit is acquired, to carry the suavity and
consideration of general society into the home circle, yet how
often is it done? I should like to see the principle that
ordered presentation of arms to the infant princess applied to
our intimate relations, and the rights of the young and dependent
scrupulously respected.
In the third act of Caste, when old Eccles steals the
“coral” from his grandson’s neck, he excuses
the theft by a grandiloquent soliloquy, and persuades himself
that he is protecting “the weak and the humble”
(pointing to himself) “against the powerful and the
strong” (pointing to the baby). Alas, too many of us
take liberties with those whom we do not fear, and excuse our
little acts of cowardice with arguments as fallacious as those of
drunken old Eccles.
