discharge his face of all expression. But
emperors and rich men are by no means the most skilful masters of
good manners. No rentroll nor army-list can dignify skulking and
dissimulation; and the first point of courtesy must always be truth, as
really all the forms of good-breeding point that way.

I have just been reading, in Mr. Hazlitt's translation, Montaigne's
account of his journey into Italy, and am struck with nothing more
agreeably than the self-respecting fashions of the time. His arrival in
each place, the arrival of a gentleman of France, is an event of some
consequence. Wherever he goes he pays a visit to whatever prince or
gentleman of note resides upon his road, as a duty to himself and to
civilization. When he leaves any house in which he has lodged for a few
weeks, he causes his arms to be painted and hung up as a perpetual sign
to the house, as was the custom of gentlemen.

The complement of this graceful self-respect, and that of all the points
of good breeding I most require and insist upon, is deference. I
like that every chair should be a throne, and hold a king. I prefer
a tendency to stateliness to an excess of fellowship. Let the
incommunicable objects of nature and the metaphysical isolation of man
teach us independence. Let us not be too much acquainted. I would have
a man enter his house through a hall filled with heroic and sacred
sculptures, that he might not want the hint of tranquillity and
self-poise. We should meet each morning as from foreign countries,
and, spending the day together, should depart at night, as into foreign
countries. In all things I would have the island of a man inviolate. Let
us sit apart as the gods, talking from peak to peak all round Olympus.
No degree of affection need invade this religion. This is myrrh and
rosemary to keep the other sweet. Lovers Should guard their strangeness.
If they forgive too much, all slides into confusion and meanness. It
is easy to push this deference to a Chinese etiquette; but coolness and
absence of heat and haste indicate fine qualities. A gentleman makes no
noise; a lady is serene. Proportionate is our disgust at those invaders
who fill a studious house with blast and running, to secure some
paltry convenience. Not less I dislike a low sympathy of each with his
neighbor's needs. Must we have a good understanding with one another's
palates? as foolish people who have lived long together know when each
wants salt or sugar. I pray m