Desire and fear are the two great springs of human effort. Every fear supposes an evil; every desire a good. What are the real evils and the real goods? What are the means by which these may be obtained and those avoided? This research is the principal object of philosophy, which, without excluding any truth, has man for its study and wisdom for its object, and may be called the “Art of Living.” The other arts have but a momentary utility; the utility of this one is constant. It is of every country, of every age, of every condition. There is not a moment of our lives when it may not serve as a guide by pointing to the duties we should perform, the pleasures we may taste, the dangers we should shun.

Anger is the delirium of offended pride. It is rarely useful, and one of these brief paroxysms of folly may embitter one’s whole life. He that contends for his rights without losing his temper is not only more dignified, but is also more effective than he that loses it. To get angry with an inferior is degrading; with an equal, dangerous; with a superior, ridiculous, while toward all there is danger of being unjust. Few things are more impressive than to see calmness opposed to violence, refinement to vulgarity, or decorum to ruffianism.

“The late Douglass Jerrold likened civility to an air-cushion—possessing no tangible substance, yet serving to ease the jolts we encounter in our journeying through life. To say that a person is civil does not imply that he is agreeable, yet civility is the next step to being agreeable. Some persons pride themselves on being brusque or boorish, and it is well to let such have a wide berth in which to exercise their peculiarities. While wonders may be accomplished in being civil and agreeable, nothing can be gained by incivility. It is the manners that make the man or the woman. The presence of an agreeable person is like a ray of sunshine that warms and halos everything on which it falls, while a disagreeable fellow will chill the pleasantest company ever assembled; and it is one of those mysteries that can never be solved why they are permitted to flourish and have their venomous existence, unless they are to be considered as checks to prevent us from a surfeit of happiness in this world.”

Intellectual is more frequent than physical short-sightedness, and nothing is more frequent than for the important and the true to escape the vision of the vulgar. It is not a Socrates and his wisdom that are honored with a great following, but a Mahomet and his ignorance that establish a sect that numbers an eighth of the population of the globe. It is not the laws of the profound and magnanimous Lycurgus that have come down to us, but those of the pedant Theodosius and the cruel Justinian. If a truth comes down to us from heaven, it does wisely to first appear in the habiliments of folly in order to guard against being at first taken for an error.

“Always suspect a man that affects great softness of manner, an unruffled evenness of temper, and an enunciation studied, low, and deliberate. These things are all unnatural, and bespeak a degree of mental discipline into which he that has no purposes of craft or design to answer cannot submit to drill himself. The most successful knaves are usually of this description, as smooth as razors dipped in oil and as sharp. They affect the innocence of the dove, which they have not, in order to hide the cunning of the serpent, which they have.”

To the vulgar, the most sublime truths are only prejudices because they accept them as they accept error—without examination. What is more humiliating to contemplate than the universality of opinion and of faith in the same community! We find a whole people, with few exceptions, of one way of thinking, and a little farther on, another people with directly opposite ideas, while each are equally convinced of the correctness of their views. There is not a ridiculous custom, an absurd opinion, or an inhuman atrocity that, in one century or another, has not had the sanction of the law and the approbation of the public. If it is the custom to worship certain animals or plants, as among the ancient Egyptians, for example—among whom, however, this worship was only symbolic—the whole nation prostrate themselves before them, and pronounce those that differ from them heathen dogs or impious barbarians. This clearly demonstrates that he that follows the dictates of conscience—a thing always of cultivation—may follow one of the worst of guides. When among the Greeks and the Carthaginians, and among nearly all the people of the North, they sacrificed human victims to the gods Orus, Agrolos, Kronos, Molock, Thor and Woden; when their altars ran with the blood of innocence, a mother sacrificing her son, a son his father; or when, in nearer times, one neighbor butchered another, one brother another, it was the dictates of conscience that they followed. But we need not go to history for evidence of the insufficiency of conscience as a guide; we have only to look about us. Truth and justice are always the same, and are always within the reach of reason, while conscience varies to infinity. It is one in Vienna and another in Constantinople, one in New York and another in the city of Mexico, one at Dover and another across the Channel at Calais. The highest intelligence examines before it accepts, and rejects all that is opposed to reason.

“Never show that you feel a slight. This is worldly wise as well as Christian, for no one but a mean person will put a slight on another, and such a person always profoundly respects the one who is unconscious of his feeble spite. Never resent publicly a lack of courtesy; it is in the worst taste. What you do privately about dropping such an acquaintance must be left to yourself. To a person of a noble mind the contests of society must ever seem poor and frivolous as they think of these narrow enmities and low political manoeuvres, but we know that they exist, and that we must meet them. Temper, detraction and small spite are as vulgar on a Turkey carpet and in a palace as they are in a tenement house; nay, worse, for the educated contestants know better. Never show a factious or peremptory irritability in small things. Be patient if a friend keeps you waiting. Bear, as long as you can, heat or a draught rather than make others uncomfortable. Do not be fussy about your supposed rights; yield a disputed point of precedence. All society has to be made up of these concessions; they are your unnumbered friends in the long run. We are not always wrong when we quarrel; but if we meet our deadliest foe at a friend’s house we are bound to treat him with perfect civility. That is neutral ground. Burke said that manners were more important than laws.”

Modesty is an admirable thing for a man to have, in appearance; a questionable thing for him to have, in fact. That that most tends to make men modest is the recollection of the stupid things they have done and said.

“As learning and honor,” says Chesterfield, “are necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of mankind, so politeness and good breeding are necessary to make you welcome in society. Great talents are above the generality of the world, who neither possess them themselves nor judge of them rightly in others; but all are judges of civility and an obliging manner.”

“Good sense must, in many cases, determine good breeding; because the same thing that would be civil at one time and to one person, may be quite otherwise at another time and to another person.”

There is no surer sign of vulgarity than the discourteous treatment of those below us in the social scale. Let your manner toward servants be gentle and courteous, but not unduly familiar. Ask rather than command. It is better to inspire love than fear. The master that is beloved is better served than the master that is feared. The world over, the members of the old aristocracy are more popular—because they are more affable—with the lower orders, than are the newly rich.

Avoid eccentricities. They are sure indications of weakness, of vanity, and of a badly balanced brain. Do as other people do, dress as other people dress, and in all things conform to established usages. Yet while we bear in mind that whatever is outrÉ is vulgar, we should also bear in mind that blind obedience to the mandates of fashion is repulsive.

We occasionally meet with persons that pride themselves on their candor and their frankness. Upon a nearer acquaintance we generally discover that the candor of which they boast is but an exhibition of their egotism, and that their frankness is what considerate people call rudeness.

“How often a bitter speech that has caused keen pain to the hearer has been followed by such words as these, as if in justification of the unkindness shown: ‘I’m a plain, blunt person, and I have to speak out just what I think. People must take me as the Lord made me.’ Anything meaner than such an attempt to throw the responsibility for one’s ugliness of temper off on the Lord it would be hard to imagine. Frankness of speech is one thing, but harshness is a very different thing. The Lord never endowed any man with such a disposition or put him in such circumstances that he was obliged to make stinging, cruel remarks. Some men have more difficulty than others in being sweet-tempered and kindly spoken, but when one fails it is his own fault. The very attempt to justify harshness in such words as we have quoted is evidence of an uncomfortable consciousness of guilt, and proves that the speaker does not believe what he says. Let the repulsiveness of such utterances when we hear them teach us how they seem to others when we make them.”

As it is not possible always to avoid being either too ceremonious or too familiar, our greatest care should be not to err on the side of familiarity, which, the old proverb truthfully says, breeds contempt.

He that domineers over and insults those below him is sure to cringe and truckle to those above him.

In most things it is well to follow the fashion, but in all things it is ill to follow the fashion without discretion. The man that allows other people to think for him in small things is incapable of thinking for himself in great ones.

“All ceremonies,” says Chesterfield, “are in themselves very silly things; yet a man of the world must know them. They are the outworks of manners, which would too often be broken in upon if it were not for that defence that keeps the enemy at a proper distance. For that reason I always treat fools and coxcombs with great ceremony, true good breeding not being a sufficient barrier against them.”

The hearths of tyrannical, bullying fathers and of scolding, complaining mothers are always the scenes of continual bickerings. There, there is never union but ever disunion. If, in such families, there exists any affection among their members, there is no show of it.

If you are a father, be the companion of your children, not their drill-master. If their love for you does not suffice to induce them to do your bidding, the fault is yours, not theirs. Your wishes should be their law, and they will be, if it has been your habit to affectionately appeal to their reason, to their sense of right—in short, to their nobler instincts.

Not only right thinking men, but wrong thinking men that are sensible, are prompt in the keeping of their engagements, whether of business or of pleasure.

Be slow to make promises, but having made a promise do your uttermost to keep your word. Every time another breaks his word with you, resolve anew never to fail to keep yours. Bad examples tend either to demoralize or to elevate. They elevate those in whom the good naturally predominates.

Men of sense are often looked upon as being conceited for no other reason than that the fools know they look upon them as being so many donkeys.

There are many ignoble, foolish, unbred men in the world whose policy is so shortsighted that they continually bow to place rather than to worth. They forget that he that is up to-day may be down to-morrow, and that no man is so insignificant that he is powerless to do them good or harm. Such men have not even the politeness of enlightened selfishness.

Little men in authority, as a rule, are on the look-out for small occasions on which to show their importance, while in matters of any magnitude they readily yield the lead to others.

The man of sense never does anything simply for flourish, to show off, for “splurge.” He never makes presents to any one that he cannot abundantly afford to make. He never goes to any expense that his means do not justify. He assumes that those with whom he associates, that he entertains, that he extends civilities to are sensible people, and he remembers that sensible people always look upon every kind of ostentation as vulgar.

A recent writer on the amenities of social intercourse says: “Don’t say ‘Miss Susan’ or ‘Miss Mary.’ This strictly is permissible with servants only. Address young ladies by their surname, with prefix of Miss, except when in a family of sisters a distinction must be made, and then give the name in full.” On this injunction, the breezy little St. Louis Spectator comments, with as much sense as humor, essentially, thus: “I think that such a rule of etiquette as this is rather Utopian when one considers the impossibility of its practical enforcement. Suppose, for instance, that Mr. Blank is playing whist with three sisters of the Turtletack family, when suddenly Miss Sempronia Turtletack asks:

“‘What led the last time round?’

“‘Clubs, Miss Sempronia Turtletack,’ answers Mr. Blank.

“‘Are you sure?’

“‘Quite sure. I led a small club, Miss Theodosia Turtletack followed suit with a small card, Miss Elvira Turtletack played her king, and you, Miss Sempronia Turtletack, trumped.’”

It is hardly possible that any such custom as this exists in any circle of society in any country; but if such a custom does anywhere exist, it is in a circle so starched and stayed that it would be difficult for an every-day mortal to breathe in it, and so stilted and stupid that no sensible mortal would want to breathe in it.

I go out of my way to give the following extract wider publicity, but there is so much in it that many persons would do well to take to heart, that I cannot resist the temptation to reprint it. I find it in Our Continent, and it is from the facile pen of Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton.

“Good breeding, like charity, should begin at home. The days are past when children used to rise the moment their parents entered the room where they were and stand until they had received permission to sit. But the mistake is now made usually in the other direction of allowing to small boys and girls too much license to disturb the peace of the household. I think the best way to train children in courtesy would be to observe toward them a scrupulous politeness. I would go so far as to say that we should make it as much a point to listen to children without interrupting them and to answer them as sincerely and respectfully as if they were grown up. And indeed many of their wise, quaint sayings are far better worth listening to than the stereotyped commonplaces of most morning callers. Of course, to allow uninterrupted chatter would be to surrender the repose of the household, but it is very easy, if children are themselves scrupulously respected, to teach them in turn scrupulously to respect the convenience of others, and to know when to talk and when to be silent.

“If a child is brought up in the constant exercise of courtesy toward brothers and sisters and play-mates, as well as toward parents and uncles and aunts, it will have little left to learn as it grows older. I know a bright and bewitching little girl who was well instructed in table etiquette, but who forgot her lessons sometimes, as even older people do now and then. The arrangement was made with her that for every solecism of this sort she was to pay a fine of five cents, while for every similar carelessness that she could discover in her elders she was to exact a fine of ten cents, their experience of life being longer than hers. You may be sure that Mistress Bright Eyes watched the proceedings of that table very carefully. No slightest disregard of the most conventional etiquette escaped her quick vision, and she was an inflexible creditor and a faithful debtor. It was the prettiest sight to see her, when conscious of some failure on her own part, go unhesitatingly to her money-box and pay cheerfully her little tribute to the outraged proprieties.

“The best brought-up family of children I ever knew were educated on the principle of always commending them when it was possible to do so, and letting silence be the reproof of any wrong-doing that was not really serious. I have heard the children of this household, when their mother had failed to say any word of commendation after some social occasion, ask as anxiously as possible, ‘What was it, mamma? I know something was wrong. Didn’t we treat the other children well, or were we too noisy?’ In that house reproof was never bestowed unsought—only commendation, of whatever it was possible to commend, was gratuitous.

“I think this system would be as good for those grown-up children, the husbands and wives, as for those still in the nursery. I once asked the late Hepworth Dixon, with whom I happened to be talking on this subject, what he thought was the reason why some women held their husbands’ hearts securely and forever, while others were but the brief tenants of a few months or years. ‘What,’ I asked, ‘is the quality in a woman that her husband loves longest?’

“‘That she should be a pillow,’ answered Mr. Dixon, and then meeting the inquiry in my eyes, he went on, ‘Yes, that is what a man needs in his wife—something to rest his heart on. He has excitement and opposition enough in the world. He wants to feel that there is one place where he is sure of sympathy, a place that will give him ease as a pillow gives it to a tired head. Do you think a man will be tempted to turn from the woman whose eyes are his flattering mirror—who heals where others wound?’

“And surely he was right. We are grateful for even a too flattering faith in us, and if there is any good in us at all, we try to deserve this faith. But tenderness in the conjugal heart is much more common than grace in the conjugal manner. Since, however, next to that supreme good of being satisfied in one’s own conscience is that second great good of being satisfied in one’s own home, surely no details of manner that tend to such a result are too slight to be observed. I believe in making as pretty a toilet to greet the returning husband as one put on to await the expected sweetheart; and, when the husband comes, he makes a mistake very fatal to his own interests if he fails to notice what he would have praised in other days. It is a trite saying that life is made up of trifles; but surely the sum of all these domestic trifles amounts to the difference between happiness and unhappiness.”

If you are the head of a family, be slow to assert your authority; remember that about the most disgusting creature on earth is the domestic tyrant. As we start so we are likely to continue; if a man starts as a domestic bully, as a domestic bully he is likely to continue to the end, making himself unhappy and those about him unhappy his life long. “Half of us find fault from habit; but some of us, we fear, do so from an inborn ugliness of disposition.”

The manner of others toward us is usually the reflex of our manner toward them. As men have howled into the wood so it has ever howled out.

Beneath the habitually gentlemanly demeanor of many men—yes, very many—there lurks a spirit of bullyism that seems to avail itself of every pretext to appear on the surface. Men that are thus afflicted are ever ready for an altercation, in order, it would seem, to show their familiarity with the ways and the peculiar phraseology of the braggart and brawler. Such men always say that they are gentlemen, and gentlemen always say that such men are blackguards.

Forwardness, especially in the youthful, is something to be carefully guarded against. The man, old or young, whose manner is forward and “loud” is never a welcome addition to a social circle. The forward and loud are generally as inane as they are noisy. If one observes them, one often finds that what they say is but an elaboration of thoughts already expressed by other members of the company.

If forwardness is a thing to be avoided, diffidence is not less a thing that should be cured. Each is alike proof of a lack of breeding. Diffidence can be thoroughly cured only by acquiring the polite accomplishments, of those in whose society one feels uncomfortable. The boor, unless he is a downright blockhead, never feels at ease in the society of the cultured.

Good manners go far toward supplying the want of good looks. They constitute the secret of that fascination that we often see exerted by persons that are not gifted with physical attractions.

Maxims of Stephen Allen, Mayor of New York City from 1821 to 1823:

“Never be idle.

“If your hands cannot be usefully employed, attend to the cultivation of your mind.

“Always speak the truth.

“Make few promises.

“Live up to your engagements.

“Keep your own secrets, if you have any.

“When you speak to a person, look him in the face.

“Good company and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue.

“Good character[A] is above all things else.

“Your character[A] cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts.

“If any one speaks evil of you, let your life be so that no one will believe him.

“Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors.

“Ever live, misfortune excepted, within your income.

“When you retire to bed, think over what you have done during the day.

“Make no haste to be rich.

“Small and steady gains give competency with tranquillity of mind.

“Never play at any game of chance.

“Avoid temptation through fear that you may not withstand it.

“Earn money before you spend it.

“Never run into debt unless you see a way to get out.

“Never borrow if you can possibly avoid it.

“Do not marry until you are able to support a wife.

“Never speak ill of any one.

“Be just before you are generous.

“Keep yourself innocent, if you would be happy.

“Save when you are young, to spend when you are old.

“Read over the above maxims at least once a week.”

If a man boasts that he could worst you in a set-to, answer that you think it very likely as you have no experience in fisticuffing; that you have never struck any one and should hardly know how to go to work to do it.

If a man threaten to do you bodily harm, ask him if he is in earnest. If he says he is, run. There is more glory in avoiding a mÊlÉe by running away than there is in remaining and coming off the victor.

But—if the devil be on the side of the blackguard and he corners you, teach him, to the best of your ability, that you are not really a poltroon, though you are quite willing that bullyism should think you one.

Mr. Sparks gives us a collection of directions that Washington called his “Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company.” They are as follows:

“1. Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.

“2. In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a humming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet.

“3. Speak not when others speak; sit not when others stand, and walk not when others stop.

“4. Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog not the table or desk on which another writes or reads; lean not on any one.

“5. Be no flatterer, neither play with any one that delights not to be played with.

“6. Read no letters, books or papers in company; but when there is a necessity for doing it, ask leave. Come not near the books or writings of any one so as to read them unasked; also look not nigh when another is writing a letter.

“7. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters somewhat grave.

“8. Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he be your enemy.

“9. They that are in dignity or in office have in all places precedency; but while they are young, they ought to respect those that are their equals in birth or other qualities, though they have no public charge.

“10. It is good manners to prefer those to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin.

“11. Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive.

“12. In visiting the sick do not presently play the physician if you be not knowing therein.

“13. In writing or speaking give to every person his due title according to his degree and the custom of the place.

“14. Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty.

“15. Undertake not to teach your equal in the art he himself possesses; it savors of arrogancy.

“16. When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it.

“17. Being constrained to advise or to reprehend any one, consider whether it should be done in public or in private, presently or at some other time, also in what terms to do it; and in reproving show no signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness.

“18. Mock not nor jest at anything of importance; break no jests that are sharp or biting; and if you deliver anything witty or pleasant, abstain from laughing thereat yourself.

“19. Wherein you reprove another be unblamable yourself, for example is ever better than precept.

“20. Use no reproachful language to any one, neither curses nor revilings.

“21. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of any one.

“22. In your apparel be modest, and endeavor to accommodate nature rather than to procure admiration. Keep to the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly, with respect to time and place.

“23. Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if you are well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your stockings sit neatly and clothes handsomely.

“24. Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company.

“25. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of a tractable and commendable nature; and in all causes of passion admit reason to govern.

“26. Be not immodest in urging your friend to discover a secret.

“27. Utter not base and frivolous things among grown and learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects among the ignorant, nor things hard to be believed.

“28. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth nor at the table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds; and if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse. Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friends.

“29. Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth. Laugh not aloud, nor at all without occasion. Deride no man’s misfortunes, though there seem to be some cause.

“30. Speak not injurious words, neither in jest nor in earnest. Scoff at none, although they give occasion.

“31. Be not forward, but friendly and courteous, the first to salute, hear and answer, and be not pensive when it is time to converse.

“32. Detract not from others, but neither be excessive in commending.

“33. Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be welcome or not. Give not advice without being asked; and when asked, do it briefly.

“34. If two contend together, take not the part of either unconstrained, and be not obstinate in your opinion; in things indifferent, be of the major side.

“35. Reprehend not the imperfections of others, for that belongs to masters, parents and superiors.

“36. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, nor ask how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend deliver not before others.

“37. Speak not in an unknown tongue in company, but in your own language; and that as those of quality do, and not as the vulgar. Sublime matters treat seriously.

“38. Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly.

“39. When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor answer him till his speech be ended.

“40. Treat with men at fit times about business, and whisper not in the company of others.

“41. Make no comparisons; and if any of the company be commended for any brave act of virtue, commend not another for the same.

“42. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth thereof. In discoursing of things you have heard, name not your author always. A secret discover not.

“43. Be not curious to know the affairs of others, neither approach to those that speak in private.

“44. Undertake not what you cannot perform. Be careful to keep your promise.

“45. When you deliver a matter, do it without passion and indiscretion, however mean the person may be you do it to.

“46. When your superiors talk to anybody, hear them; neither speak nor laugh.

“47. In disputes be not so desirous to overcome as to give liberty to each one to deliver his opinion, and submit to the judgment of the major part, especially if they are judges of the dispute.

“48. Be not tedious in discourse, make not digressions, nor repeat often the same matter of discourse.

“49. Speak no evil of the absent, for it is unjust.

“50. Be not angry at table, whatever happens; and if you have reason to be so show it not; put on a cheerful countenance, especially if there be strangers, for good humor makes one dish a feast.

“51. Set not yourself at the upper end of the table; but if it be your due, or if the master of the house will have it so, contend not, lest you should trouble the company.

“52. When you speak of God or His attributes, let it be seriously, in reverence and honor, and obey your natural parents.

“53. Let your recreations be manful, not sinful.

“54. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called Conscience.”