AND ANOTHER THING
A 16th-century book on manners still makes sense today
PAUL JOHNSON
Can you imagine a male teenager today copying out, by hand and of his own choice, 110 rules about good manners? Yet that is exactly what the young George Washington did towards the middle of the 18th century. The particular set of maxims he chose to improve himself had a long history. They were first compiled in 1595 by French Jesuits who specialised in educating upper- class males. A translation appeared in Eng- land in 1640, on the eve of the Civil War, and went through innumerable editions and updatings. A copy fell into Washing- ton's hands under the title The Rules of Civility. Not only did he copy them out, but he seems to have followed them, pretty well exactly, all his life. At all events he was always cited, in the early American repub- lic, as a model of good manners and presi- dential dignity. It may be that the little book played a critical part in his success in guiding a revolutionary country through its first steps in self-government. A new edi- tion of this text, with an introduction by the Washington scholar Richard Brookhiser (Free Press, $16), has now reached my hands. So, is it any use today?
The answer is, yes. It is true that much of the advice belongs to a ruder age, or at least one hopes so. Thus: 'Kill no vermin, as fleas, lice, ticks etc. in the sight of others. If you see any filth or thick spittle, put your foot dextrously upon it.' There is a lot about not spitting, especially into the fire. Men spat a lot in the 18th century and Americans con- tinued this disgusting habit until well into the 19th century — it was one of the things Mrs Fanny Trollope in her Domestic Man- ners of the Americans condemned most severely. But if people no longer spit, they still do a lot of the things which the Rules of Civility forbid: 'Bedew no man's face with your spittle by approaching too near him when you speak.' That is still good advice, as is: 'Shift not yourself in sight of others nor gnaw your nails.'
The Rules also stress delicacy and mod- esty in physical habits: Tut not off your clothes in the presence of others, nor go out of your chamber half-drest.' And they make a point which the young, especially, need to note today: 'When in company, put not your hands to any part of the body not usually discovered.' A lot of the rules stress: `Keep your distance.' Moving too close to people, crowding them, was considered wrong. Never 'lean on people' nor 'look them full in the face', and try to 'keep a full pace from them'. Again: 'Come not near the books or writings of another so as to read them, unless desired, or give your opinion of them unasked.' Also: 'Look not nigh when another is writing a letter.' It was also forbid- den to read in company or, if it was neces- sary, permission had to be secured. 'Turn not your back on others' was another rule, and, `Jog not the table or desk on which another reads or writes.' You must not shake your head, feet or legs, or 'roll your eyes', or 'lift one eyebrow higher than the other', and 'wry not the mouth . . . Do not puff up the cheeks and loll not out the tongue.'
The idea seems to have been not to pull faces and to try to look fairly serious. Tony Blair, with his grins, would not have rated high marks. Do not laugh too loud or too much'; 'Let your countenance be pleasant but in serious matters somewhat grave'; 'In the presence of others, sing not to yourself with a humming noise or drum with your fingers or feet' — well said. If attending a hanging, a public flogging or watching a man in the pillory, the advice was: 'You may be inwardly pleased, but always show pity to the suffering offender.' Likewise: 'Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy.' And again: `Reproach none for the infirmities of nature, nor delight to put them that have, in mind thereof.' All of these are still good advice today, as is: `If any one come to speak to you while you are sitting, stand up, though he be your inferior.' Give place always' on the basis of 'age, estate or merit' — not an easy maxim to follow, but a good one.
The Rules insist that, on all points, one should notice what is due to others and give it to them. Let other people speak first. Give up your seat. Walk on the outside, and 'if three walk together, the middest place is the most honourable'. Yield your place at the fire to someone else. If you have to speak to 'artificers and people of low degree', you must 'treat them with affa- bility and courtesy, without arrogancy". And: 'Let your discourse with men of busi- ness be short and comprehensive.' Never try and instruct people in their own profes- sion. 'In visiting the sick, do not presently play the physician.' When you have to tick somebody off `shew no sign of choler, but do it all with sweetness and mildness'. If you are ticked off yourself, 'accept all admonitions thankfully'. Never joke about important matters. 'Break no jests that are sharp or biting.' If you make a joke, `abstain from laughing thereat yourself. Another rule was: 'Use no reproachful lan- guage' and 'never curse or revile'. (This advice Washington found hard to take. When he lost his temper during the war, he swore 'till the leaves shook on the trees', and he cursed in Cabinet too, though not to the point when the 'expletive deleted' nota- tion was necessary.) The Rules advised modest dress, which had to be kept clean, though not too clean, and undue attention to appearance was deplored: 'Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you, to see if you be well deck't, if your shoes fit well, if your stockings sit neatly, and clothes handsomely.' That is still good advice. Even better is: 'Eat not In, the streets, nor in the house, out of season. Another good precept follows: 'Tell not your dreams, but to your intimate friend.' No gatecrashing. Never go to a man's house, without an invitation. Don't interrupt. Don refuse to take part in a conversation. Never whisper in company. At meals, don't talk with your mouth full: 'Let not your morcels be too big for the jowls.' Make no show of taking great delight in your victuals' and, `Feed not with greediness.' Never put your elbows on the table.
Those Jesuits knew what they were talk- ing about, and Washington was shrewd to spot a good guide, learn it and follow It. Some of these rules I have not heard since I was a child, but they are opportune nonetheless. I particularly like number 108: `When you speak of God or his attributes, let it be seriously and with reverence' — are you listening, Richard Dawkins? And the last one of all, 'Labour to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience', is worth pondering. We tend to think, today, that good manners and right morals are entirely separate. But the truth is, they are a continuum. Bad manners and high crime rates are all part of the same disease.
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