To be a gentleman is to be one all the world over, and in
every relation and grade of society. It is a high calling, to which
a man must first be born, and then devote himself for life. And,
unhappily, the manners of a certain so-called upper grade have a kind
of currency, and meet with a certain external acceptation throughout
all the others, and this tends to keep us well satisfied with slight
acquirements and the amateurish accomplishments of a clique. But
manners, like art, should be human and central.
Some of my fellow-passengers, as I now moved among them in a relation
of equality, seemed to me excellent gentlemen. They were not rough,
nor hasty, nor disputatious; debated pleasantly, differed kindly;
were helpful, gentle, patient, and placid. The type of manners was
plain, and even heavy; there was little to please the eye, but
nothing to shock; and I thought gentleness lay more nearly at the
spring of behaviour than in many more ornate and delicate societies.
I say delicate, where I cannot say refined; a thing may be fine, like
ironwork, without being delicate, like lace. There was here less
delicacy; the skin supported more callously the natural surface of
events, the mind received more bravely the crude facts of human
existence; but I do not think that there was less effective
refinement, less consideration for others, less polite suppression of
self.
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