Maketh Man

Today

A big discussion on Facebook recently about mannerly behaviour. Comments on FB can travel a long way and it surprises me that people don't monitor their remarks or seem to be aware that FB is read by children, older people, even their parents. And my most mannerly nephew John was expressing despair over people's unpleasant behaviour that leads to all sorts of unkindness and even cruelty.

It's impossible to change the world, but you can influence your bit of it by refusing to resort to vulgar language or behaviour and by treating others with respect and attention. Of course, there are cultural differences, but a little thought quickly sorts that out.

And some people just fit into the category of "nature's gentlemen and ladies"; without learning a complex set of rules, they have a natural courtesy that comes from within.

In My Day

Daddy was certainly one of nature's gentlemen. He had natural ebullience, originality, charm and generosity that overcame any objections that could be made on the basis of his poverty-stricken background. His mother had tried very hard to give him the kind of good manners that come from the heart and these he passed onto us. For example, not to watch what others ate, counting anxiously every mouthful in case they had more, and he always gave people a courteous hearing.

Mamma's background was more straightforwardly upper middle-class, although with a German twist. She never fully mastered the labyrinthine details of English posh manners, but her inability to tell a lie and complete lack of snobbery stood in their place very well. I never once heard her make a barbed remark or act vindictively.

Of course there were tricky moments. On one occasion Paul's mother had invited my parents to a meal at Ravenhurst. She pushed the boat out with snow-white napery, silver candlesticks, the lot. Unfortunately, as she wasn't the world's best cook, the meal itself was just short of disaster, with limp vegetables and soggy pastry. I guess she realised this, but instead of shutting up she said effusively to Mamma, "I'm sorry it's so plebeian." She was clearly looking for reassurances that all was well. Mamma, who, remember, never lied, said "Well you are plebeian, why try to be anything else?" There was a frosty silence and quick change of subject. How well I understood both viewpoints.

Tricia, who had also had an early struggle, found it hard to differentiate between the form and substance. There's a famous family story which she told us many times. One of her boyfriends was a major with a double-barrelled name. She told the tale of going out to dinner with this man. The Maitre D came over to check that all was well and the major asked for his name. "Mr Smith", was the reply. "Well," snorted our double-barrelled hero, "I hardly thought you were Mrs!" This story was intended to show up the Maitre D's low oirigins in that he didn't know that the norm at that time was simply to bark out your surname. One day, I'd had enough. "Well, " I said, "I think that was very rude." "Oh, quite," said Tricia "The man simply had no idea." "No, I mean your friend Major what's his name. The man was simply doing his job and he was humiliated in front of you for a very minor faux pas." Tricia, to do her justice, paused, considered, conceded and, best of all, never told the story again.

These days we have lost many of the forms of manners, so we will just have to rely on the manners that come from the heart.