COMMERCIAL VALUE OF GOOD

BREEDING.

BY

REY. CHARLES O. REILLY, D. D.

HAT it costs nothing to be civil, is an adage so old and so universally accepted that it would be difficult to fix the exact proportion of its responsibility for the too prevalent impression that it is worth nothing to be civil.

Of course, the intrinsic worth of that qualification which makes men mindful of the sensibilities of others

on all occasions, is in no wise called

in question. No one would be found to dispute the superior excellence of the soul amply endowed with such an estimable disposition, as compared with the mind quite destitute of its instincts. None of us envy the mental structure of the man who is habitually disposed to disregard the feelings of those with whom he comes in contact. It goes without saying, that a habit of politeness is incomparably superior to rudeness of demeanor, intrinsically estimated, nor does the adage referred to compromise more than the commercial value of good manners.

A few words on this particular phase of the general subject of good breeding may not be without their use to American readers, as we pride ourselves on being a practical people, and rarely, if ever, deny what is attributed to us as a national characteristic, viz: a disposition to reduce all factors to a denomination of dollars and cents. It is, moreover, undeniable that a certain eccentricity of demeanor, not infrequently carried to the borders of brutality, has attempted to obtain pa professional recognition, and, as a fact, is not without its market value in our somewhat undeveloped civilization. The bullying barrister, "the rough old doctor," the impatient and unsympathetic preacher, possess for some minds an attraction which, although inexplicable, is not always unprofitable. The attorney who treats his client like a convict, for this does not always lose him. The physician who informs the patient's if your wife does die before I get there," is not infrequently the one for whom people will wait all day.

nervous husband that, "I don't care a

The story is told of a Scotch divine, who convinced his hypercritical congregation of his entire orthodoxy and spiritual power, on occasion of his first sermon, by impatiently interrupting himself in the midst of his discourse, and imperiously ordering the sexton to "shut the doöre." Those who were incapable of discerning the nice points of his doctrine were not left in darkness concerning his character. He "wor. bonny on the doöre "-positive enough, to be sure, for predestination ante praevisa merita. A reason can be given for everything, and the notion that any one, not endowed with very superior ability, would not dare to so indulge the common humors of mankind, is one to take possession of an irreflective mind--and an irreflective mind only. A want of ordinary self-restraint is a curious argument of superior education. Although strong-minded men have, here and there, attained

eminence and a fair proportion of success, despite the disad vantages of unruly dispositions; yet may it be doubted if such instances are sufficiently numerous to render affectation in this direction at all dangerous. This much is certain, that whatever superstitious regard may have attached to rudeness in the past, its influence, as a commercial factor, is perceptibly diminishing as civilization continues to advance, and the rules of good breeding are brought into more general application. The class of people who were accustomed to accept it as a certificate of superior worth, or at least as an evidence of extraordinary honesty, is becoming comparatively small, and the marks of good breeding are now generally looked for to betoken the mental discipline of the proper professional man. The impression that rudeness should afford an evidence of honesty, is no less grotesque than the notion that would make it an index of intellectual superiority. The French, whose civilization is certainly in a more advanced stage than ours, entertain the correct idea of polite manners, for they call an honest man and a civil man by the same name-honnête homme.

No charlatanism can be conceived, at once so outrageous and contemptible, as the premeditated assumption of rude manners. Every gentleman owes to himself and to society the duty of denying, at the outset, that any good intention can be masked by the manners of a thug.

* *

"But it is not enough not to be rude," says says Chesterfield, "you should be extremely civil * and, depend upon it, your reputation and success in the world will, in a great measure, depend upon the degree of good breeding you are master of." This great master of sentences of civil life, has left us the draft of a definition of good breeding, in which it is to be regretted that he seems to have classed the essential quite as an accidental element of the qualification, without

which he declares that "all the talents in the world will want

all their lustre and some part of their use, too." He defines good-breeding to be "the result of much good sense, some good nature, and a little self-denial for the sake of others, with a view to obtain the same indulgence from them."

Now, if we consider man as an individual, we cannot but recognize that he has been peculiarly constituted with a view to the preservation of himself and the promotion of his own interests. Physiologically, his activities and passions, appetites and instincts have been exclusively ordered to the accretion of his own conveniences. They go out from and return to a common centre, the core of which is self, and ever appear to us on that one peculiar errand bent- the gratification of physical propensities. The same conclusion is arrived at from a consideration of his psychological being, so that only the last clause of the definition, viz:-"with a view to obtain the same indulgence from others," saves it from a denial; and, inasmuch as this "view" which is likewise conceded to be selfish is induced from an experience with "others," it must be attributable to education, and we are therefore forced to the reflection that man, in so far as he is a well-bred, is essentially a self-restrained creature. What is the commercial value of this self-restraint? Is it difficult of attainment? Is it worth the price demanded? As an answer to the query touching its attainment, we cannot do better than quote the illustrious author on etiquette, already referred to. He says: "I hardly know anything so difficult to attain, or so necessary to possess, as perfect good breeding."

The question of its commercial value must be approached from an a priori consideration of the subject, and thus viewed, it seems to present two distinct phases of computation-a negative and a positive one,-upon each of which let us hazard a few reflections, with the hope that they