When the interlocutor says these words, all the men sit down. They all assume that they are gentlemen; anyway, they know that they have been called such, and they accept the appellation. Any man will be offended if you say he is no gentleman. Every man wants to be known as a gentleman. The sign that reads "Gentlemen will not expectorate upon the floor—others must not," is very effective, because every man who reads it will obey, fearing that if he does not he will not be rated as a gentleman. You cannot appeal to him on any stronger ground; the dangers of tuberculosis, cleanliness, the ladies' skirts, and such, do not weigh so heavy as the argument that real gentlemen do not expectorate. Take the lowliest laborer, and you cannot pay him a higher compliment than to make him understand that you rate him as a gentleman. Even pickpockets, burglars and thugs pride themselves on being gentlemen, when off duty, and it is their highest ambition to get dressed up and to frequent the same hotels, restaurants and resorts that gentlemen frequent. And yet, if you ask any of these what a gentleman is, he cannot tell you. For that matter, who can? What is a gentleman? What are the qualifications and requirements? Can a person be a gentleman part of the time and not all the time, or is he born one way or the other? Can a person who was not born a gentleman acquire the title? Is it a matter of birth, a matter of character, a matter of conscience, a matter of dress, a matter of conduct, or a matter of education? Can a man who has been brought up in ignorance, crime, filth, squalor, and degradation be educated to be a gentleman, or will his real self pop out sometime and show that he is not? The dictionary definition of a gentleman is: "A man of good birth; every man above the rank of yeoman, comprehending noblemen; a man who, without a title, bears a coat of arms, or whose ancestors were freemen; a man of good breeding and politeness, as distinguished from the vulgar and clownish; a man in a position of life above a tradesman or mechanic; a term of complaisance." But none of these definitions covers the modern "gentleman"; not one is adequate. Chaucer's idea was that "He is gentle who doth gentle deeds." Calvert's was that a gentleman is a Christian product. Goldsmith's, that the barber made the gentleman. Locke's, that education begins the gentleman and that good company and reflection finishes him. Hugo's, that he is the best gentleman who is the son of his own deserts. Emerson's, that cheerfulness and repose are the badge of a gentleman. Steele's, that to be a fine gentleman is to be generous and brave. Spenser's, that it is a matter of deeds and manners. Shaftesbury's, that it is the taste of beauty and the relish of what is decent, just and amiable that perfects the gentleman. Byron's, that the grace of being, without alloy of fop or beau, a finished gentleman, is something that Nature writes on the brow of certain men. Beaconsfield's, that propriety of manners and consideration for others are the two main characteristics of a gentleman. Hazlitt's, that a gentleman is one who understands and shows every mark of deference to the claims of self-love in others, and exacts it in turn from them, and that propriety is as near a word as any to denote the manners of the gentlemen—plus elegance, for fine gentlemen, dignity for noblemen and majesty for kings.

Chesterfield's opinion ought to be worth considering—"A gentleman has ease without familiarity, is respectful without meanness, genteel without affectation, insinuating without seeming art." Likewise Ruskin's—"A gentleman's first characteristic is that fineness of structure in the body which renders it capable of the most delicate sensation; and of structure in the mind which renders it capable of the most delicate sympathies; one may say simply 'fineness of structure.'" The Psalmist describes a gentleman as one "that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart," and Samuel Smiles adds that a gentleman's qualities depend, not on fashion or manners, but or moral worth; not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. Thackeray intimates that a gentleman must be honest, gentle, generous, brave, wise; and, possessing all these qualities, he must exercise them in the most graceful outward manner. That he must be a loyal son, a true husband, and an honest father. That his life ought to be decent, his bills paid, his taste high and elegant, and his aim in life lofty and noble. A more modern view is that of the great English philosopher, Herbert Spencer, who says that "Thoughtfulness for others, generosity, modesty and self-respect are the qualities that make the real gentleman or lady, as distinguished from the veneered article that commonly goes by that name." And here's another view:

Gentleman—A man that's clean outside and in; who neither looks up to the rich nor down on the poor; who can lose without squealing and who can win without bragging; who is considerate of women, and children and old people; who is too brave to lie, too generous to cheat, and who takes his share of the world and lets other people have theirs.

Originally gentleman was merely a designation, not a description, and it was meant to apply to men occupying a certain conventional social position. It had no reference to the qualities of heart, mind and soul. Later the word gentleman was given an exclusively ethical application. Both ideas are extremes, and both are wrong, because the former might apply to thieves, liars, cads, fops and ruffians, and the latter might apply to servants and slaves, many of whom are men of the best and truest type. There is an old saw that runs—

If it is difficult to ascertain what a gentleman is, it is not difficult to ascertain what a gentleman is not. For example, a gentleman is not—

1. One who jumps into the one vacant seat when there are women standing.

2. One who smokes or swears in a public elevator in the presence of a lady.

3. One who dashes through swinging doors and lets them bang into the face of those behind.

4. One who jumps on the platform of a moving car when others are patiently waiting to get on.

5. One who eats with his knife, picks his teeth in public, spits on the floor, wipes his mouth on the tablecloth, coughs or sneezes in public without covering his mouth, or cleans his nails in a public place.

6. One who carries his umbrella extended horizontally under his arm, with the sharp ferrule sticking out behind to the inconvenience if not peril of others.

7. One who rushes into a car before those in it have time to get off.

8. One who occupies two seats for himself and his newspaper or parcels in a crowded car.

9. One who fails to apologize when he has unintentionally insulted another.

10. One who refuses to apologize or make amend when he has intentionally insulted another.

11. One who always wants to bet or to fight when he is getting the worst of an argument.

12. One who neglects to respect old age.

13. One who is mean, selfish and inconsiderate of the rights and convenience of others.

14. One who deliberately uses uncouth or vulgar language.

15. One who is intentionally neglectful of his appearance to the extent of wearing soiled linen in public and of neglecting his person so that he is obnoxious to the olfactory organs of those around him.

16. One who lacks tolerance and who wrangles with everybody who does not do as he would like them to do.

17. One who has a hot temper and does not know enough to put his foot on the soft pedal.

18. One who laughs at a drunken man or woman or who induces them to become so.

19. One who thinks that the world owes him a living and who proceeds to collect it from everybody he comes across, by foul means or fair.

20. One who does not know that women, children and elderly people are entitled to a preference and to unusual consideration on all occasions.

Gentlemen, be seated, and we will inquire still further as to what a gentleman is and is not. Of course, at this command you are all seated. The commander knew that there would be no exceptions in your judgment. But, even if you do not agree with the opinions of those quoted above, you have your own notions as to what is a gentleman, and it is a safe bet that not one of you live up to those qualifications. The most perfect of gentlemen sometimes fail to live up to their best. We all fall down once in a while.

Some people define gentlemen as follows:

Gentleman—One who does not wear detachable cuffs; one who changes his shirt every day; one whose clothes are of the latest pattern; one who wears a cane, a silk hat and patent leather shoes; one who has money and spends it freely; one who tips the waiter generously, and who would not soil his hands by shaking hands with a laborer; one who is above work and who would not associate with a common tradesman; one who respects to the point of worship anybody who has money and who detests to the point of hatred everybody who has not; one who has his nails manicured twice a week, and who always wears gloves in public; one who thinks that the greatest thing in the world is to belong to the smart set and to be fashionable.

Such people forget that the gentleman is solid mahogany, while the fashionable man is only veneer. They forget that the gentleman is not so much what he is without as what he is within. You cannot make a gentleman out of fine clothes, even if you add elegant manners. Nor will education complete him. When you educate the thief you do not necessarily cure his thievery, and you often make him a more accomplished thief. And some of the greatest thieves and cut-throats have the most elegant manners and wear the finest clothes. The real gentleman must be a gentleman clean through, from the center of his heart to the top of his brain. Culture and refinement in the true sense proceed from within. While they can be purchased at any good boarding-school, this is another brand, and partake of the qualities of varnish. They are a sort of polish.

Gentlemen, be seated. Ah, you do not seat yourselves so quickly! You begin to see the light. Perhaps you realize that you are not so much of a gentleman as you at first thought you were. You may have the instincts of a gentleman, you may have good breeding, good manners, education, refinement, good intentions, even culture, yet you know down in your secret souls that you have some qualities that are not those of the real, true gentleman. You may have gentleness, generosity, honesty, polish, and yet you lack some of the other ingredients that are used in the manufacture of a gentleman. But never you mind. None of us are perfect—not even the writer! And you frown when you are told that you are not gentlemen. But you are not. There is no such thing as a gentleman. How can there be when a gentleman is a perfect man? The thing to do is to try to be a gentleman. Let's try hard.

Gentlemen, be seated. You all sit, because you try to be gentlemen, and, for aught I know, you are as much gentlemen as anybody. Anyway, if you try, you are, to all intents and purposes; for, if a man does the best he can he is entitled to the highest honors, and what higher honors are there than to be known as a real gentleman?

Gentlemen, be seated, and we shall hear from a wonderful philosopher, Herr Friedrich Nietzsche. A million sages and diagnosticians, in all ages of the world, have sought to define the gentleman, and their definitions have been as varied as their minds, as we have already seen. Nietzsche's definition, according to Mencken's translation, is based on the fact that the gentleman is ever a man of more than average influence and power, and on the further fact that this superiority is admitted by all. The vulgarian may boast of his bluff honesty, but at heart he looks up to the gentleman, who goes through life serene and imperturbable. There is in the gentleman an unmistakable air of fitness and efficiency, and it is this that makes it possible for him to be gentle and to regard those below him with tolerance. The demeanor of highborn persons shows plainly that in their minds the consciousness of power is ever present. Above all things, they strive to avoid a show of weakness, whether it takes the form of inefficiency or of a too-easy yielding to passion or emotion. They never sink exhausted into a chair. On the train, when the vulgar try to make themselves comfortable, these higher folk avoid reclining. They do not seem to get tired after hours of standing at court. They do not furnish their homes in a comfortable, but in a spacious and dignified manner, as if they were the abodes of a greater and taller race of beings. To a provoking speech, they reply with politeness and self-possession—and not as if horrified, crushed, abashed, enraged or out of breath, after the manner of plebians. The gentleman knows how to preserve the appearance of ever-present physical strength, and he knows, too, how to convey the impression that his soul and intellect are a match for all dangers and surprises, by keeping up an unchanging serenity and civility, even under the most trying circumstances.

Thus spake Nietzsche, but he was really defining an aristocrat, or one of the so-called nobility, for which he had a profound respect. Here is still another definition:

Gentility—Perfect veracity, frank urbanity, total unwillingness to give offense; the gentleness of right-hearted, level-headed good nature; kindliness tactfully exercised through clear sense that duly appreciates current circumstances involving the personal rights, privileges and susceptibilities of others; and, while justly regarding these, acting on what they generally suggest so considerately and so gracefully that a pleasurable, heartfelt recognition of finest decency is inspired in others.

An old wag once said, "I never refuse to drink with a gentleman, and a gentleman is a man who invites me to take a drink." That is the Kentucky idea. But this is not:

Gentleman—One who has courage without bravado, pride without vanity, and who is innately—not studiously, but innately—considerate of the feelings of others.

And so the definitions vary inversely as the square of the desirability of the kind of gentleman we try to be. In brief, a gentleman is indefinable as it is unmistakable. You can always tell him when you meet him, but you cannot tell how or why.

Gentlemen, be seated. This is final. Just think over what you have heard, and see if there is not now a clear idea of what a gentleman is and is not. If you have read between the lines, you have seen the true lights on the subject. Wit and mirth and humorous allusions—such as they are—should not obscure the real issue. Do we not all know now what a gentleman is? Quite true that we cannot define it, without a very large vocabulary and thousands of words, yet we feel that we know. And, knowing what a gentleman is, surely we shall all try to be one. And then what more can the gods require?