WHILE it is important to master the minutiÆ that govern the conduct of social life, it is well to remember that a good manner is to be desired even above good manners. “Not what she says but the way she says it” was the clever explanation made by an experienced society woman of the charm of a dÉbutante. If one doubts this for a moment, one has only to recall the impression made now and then by a fine-mannered workman or a country woman who has never attended a “function” in her life. Such persons, by virtue of a native dignity of bearing, by a beautiful simplicity and a kindness of heart toward all men, would be at home in any assembly worthy to receive them. One can fancy that Stella, whom Dean Swift loved, would have been at ease in any society, even had she lacked her protector’s instruction and fostering care. We are told that she has civility, repose and humor, three great qualities that make for social success. A well-known woman, describing those who possess savoir-faire, says: “They have the genius of tact to perceive, the genius of finesse to execute, ease and frankness of manner, a knowledge of the world that nothing can surprise, a calmness of temper that nothing can disturb, and a kindness of disposition that can never be exhausted.”

To learn to talk well and to listen well and to do either with grace as the conversational situation demands is a real accomplishment. One writer on the subject of conversation has given excellent advice: “Socialize every thought before you utter it.” In other words, one should bear in mind as vividly as possible the probable direction and extent of the sympathies and interests of the person to whom one is speaking and endeavor not to let his words go far afield from those sympathies and interests. Conversation is essentially a partnership game and, as in playing golf, the one who is talking should not get too far away from his listener. There have been people like Coleridge who did not converse but who spoke habitually in monologues and spoke so brilliantly that society was glad to listen. With ordinary men and women, however, there should be give and take. In listening, try to catch plumply a ball tossed to you and in return try to pitch your own ball neither too high nor too low, too soft nor too hard.

It is not necessary, in order to be pleasant, to make one’s self what Emerson has happily called “a mush of concession.” Do not be afraid to have convictions of your own and at the proper moment to express them clearly. At the same time, one should avoid a dogmatic manner and any assumption that one’s own view is the only view worth having. The saying “Stick your opinions in nobody’s sleeve” is to the point. Utter your own ideas frankly but do not force their acceptance on any one. Even a good idea is likely to lose by any suggestion of insistence. It is well to make frequent use of the question form in beginning a new topic of discussion, to ask, “Do you admire Forbes-Robertson?” rather than “I admire Forbes-Robertson because, etc.” In the one case, you courteously include in your talk the one whom you are addressing, and, in the other, you simply use him as an audience for your own benefit. People who are given to the latter form are usually those who are fond of talking constantly which—it may be remarked—is a dangerous thing to do. The man or woman who says a great deal at one time is pretty sure to say something he will be sorry for. Besides, from a strategic point of view, the man who is always talking himself does not learn; he has no chance to be finding where the other person stands, while, all the time, he is setting himself up as a target. A great teacher once said, “A wise man will hear and will increase learning.”

Not to talk constantly of one’s self and one’s affairs is, of course, a fundamental rule of good breeding and yet there are persons who know how to talk about themselves—on occasions when it is proper to do so—in a delightful way, because they have the instinct for speaking simply and without conceit. To speak of one’s ills of any sort is ordinarily a mistake. “Consume your own smoke.” “To walk gently, humbly, and, if possible, gaily with other men” is a charming rule for social conduct. One should be a lover of harmony. To differ abruptly from the one who is speaking may, in rare instances, be necessary, but only then. After all, the person who is “agreeable” is one who agrees. While one may not share one’s neighbor’s views in the whole, one may often seize on some point of it with which to sympathize and on which to set the seal of one’s approval. The clergyman who, at an evening party where a well-known woman had read a paper on Sir Oliver Lodge and his experiments in the occult, vehemently denounced all occultism, doubtless felt that his office demanded this attitude, but he made his hostess and the other guests exceedingly uncomfortable.

Avoid the unfortunate habit that some persons have of snuffing out the candles of conversation. If any one introduces a topic, the reasonable inference is that he is interested in that topic and remark number two from you should not throw cold water on it. Do not merely listen, but attend, stretch mentally toward your companion, be with him in thought. “Find out where people are and meet them there.” Only in this way will you yourself gain the full measure of what the other person has to give and be able to reply to the finer points of his remark. A good rule in conversation is “when in doubt keep still.” Never be betrayed into talking merely because you are nervous. Arthur Vincent speaks somewhere of the unhappy spectacle made by the shy man who attempts to cover his shyness by garrulity. When you do speak, take all the time there is. That is to say, do not feel hurried or flurried. Speak when you speak—without fear and with dignity. Never press unduly any slight advantage you may acquire in conversation. Your companion is not your victim nor are you to shine as his superior. A fine manner is made up of many slight sacrifices.

If, in spite of yourself, you are drawn into a heated, wordy and futile argument, you are justified in assenting to any claims whatsoever your unwise companion may make. It was the practise of Stella, says one of her biographers, to agree with such persons, as she said, “to save noise.”

If you attempt to tell a story, be sure, in the first place, that it is worth telling, and in the second place, that you know it thoroughly, and in the third place, that you tell it reasonably well. But the social company that is transformed into a succession of “good stories” does not represent the highest social plane. A particularly good story is always desirable if it comes in naturally to point some phase of a discussion that is in progress, but a run of stories represents an intellectual descent. In whatever you are telling or describing, beware of too much detail. Remember the French proverb, “To tell all is to be tedious.”

Cheerfully accord the other person the last word in any discussion, giving your own view once quietly and if it does not arouse interest, do not insist on it. Never raise your voice to command attention. Never spoil a fine moment by any disagreeable allusions. There are always some people who have a gift for introducing the subject of ptomaine poisoning during the fish course, or who, on an outing, make all the other women uncomfortable by talking about snakes. Remember that comparisons are dangerous and that superlatives are also often the forerunner of embarrassment. Be prepared for surprises and do not allow them to throw you off your balance. Never allow yourself to become a fussbudget. Serenity is one great element of social charm. Du Maurier tells us that Trilby knew “when to speak and when to keep silence.” George Meredith, in his delightful romance, Sandra Belloni, says of Sandra, “She moved softly as if she loved everything that she touched.” A certain softness of manner is undoubtedly a large part of attractiveness, but the sharp edge of self-assertion destroys. The gentleness of Hamlet’s unhappy love is shown in the warning spoken before one of her entrances: “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia.” “Remember,” says a modern writer on voice training: “that every time you speak you touch some one with your voice.”

Beware of giving out violent opinions before knowing where the other person stands. This does not mean that you should be untrue to your own beliefs, but that you should, with one newly met, cast about for at least a plank on which you two may stand in friendly relation. It is the people who most accurately measure the common ground between them and other people who make the most and the happiest friendships.

Never command even one who is paid to serve you. The same words put in the form of a request are equally effective and are much more creditable to you and grateful to the persons to whom they are spoken. English servants invariably say “Thank you” for any information or direction given them, but this smacks of servility and one hopes the custom will not be taken up in this country.

Never begin a conversation with “Say,” as “Say, Marjorie.” In a group conversation be careful to include, by voice and glance, every one in it.

Finally, be sure, as Emerson says, “that people like a room better with you in it than out of it,” and when you leave the room, learn to do it in a way that adds to the pleasure your presence has already given. Do not, for one thing, neglect to say good-by to every one present if the number is small. The grace with which some people take leave amounts to an art. Some one has recorded with delight “the exquisite, laughing farewells” of Mrs. Browning.