The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 20, 1897, Page 27

4 SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUNE 20 18“).7. THE POSING OF A PRINCE IN STILL ANOTHER ATTITUDE Recently an European prince conceived that it would bean atiractive treak for him to shine b fore the public as a saver of lives. A prince always shines as some- thing, but he is not aiways novel. To bs novel was fo shine conspicuously. A vrinee as a member Wwould be a uovelr ie prospect thrilled. ‘Iie Prince set about to find a life-sav- | ing ald be eligible to his com- bility meant a degree of in- flicient to make his patronage y romantic. There is much deli- cious romance 1o be derived from a strik- ing contrast—there may be harmony ir incongruity, if the incougruity be power- ful enough. And In the contrast of the Prince and the pauper w of noble condescension the other laid over it as a tone the effe 1s particularly picturesque. The Prince’s appearance among peasant rowers of the lileboat service, as a mental picture, in- spired his Royal High He uroceeded forthwith to set the picture edmiringly belore the gaze of the world. The news reports of this wonderful spec- “a few days azo he aciu- the crew of the famous and before the cine- executed some evolutions would have done honorto profes- re than one thousznd pic- tures were taken and almost all of them were excellent. They wiil be shown only b a sprinkling oat to the ro; family and guests at the royal palace. Indeed! But thisis dampening news, after all, to those of us who at birth were spared the mischance of opening our eyes in a palace. The object lesson of a p s voluntary exrosure of himself to the perils of the seashore by standinz boidly (and firmly) on the besch and sending a boat- load of peasants into the raging sea as an example of his skill at directing things is likely to be imperfectly appreciated if we be denied tance of pictures to brace up cherous imaginations. The av rage 4 instance, might picture the bis and bis crew of peasants courting death in the thundering breakers just to gratify a royal whim, Life-saving which consists of standing on the pevbly sands and wav- | Prince with two feet pianted salely on the shore pict esque directions to a I e their lives 1n into the roiling billows where eirown are in danger needs of real and go ou Do lives but a preciou need of itc 0 ma ar to the general commanity, e itatall attractive as an epler- tainment. It will take a good lot of ciner hic stides to persuade the world in general—so far as the world in ral cares gen: y knew & lot of o alrea fore that. An American syndicate has gone to the yains of “faki article on this accompanying n New Yc chad rk, is the adem of glitter- ves 1s festooned with Wit t having seen the late Ward Mc- | it would be safe to | rote of regret for | disappearance of the manners of a | eraiion. Those who decry their | ways begin by lamenting the f contemporaries. " said the Latin e changed, o'd man tt's “List Minstrel. e Caliph of Bagdad, poet, - “Old times o ners gone,” sang Sc Mezrour,” said t cl 1g his nostrils ar ing betel-juice ov legged on his mu laying chass is voung Vizier, whohad just eaten pilaff, *“Mezrour, thy father ida—but onions are unpardonable. Faugh!” 8o, those in the forward files of fashion bave always been protesting the supe- rionty of a bygone day, end in every age ere to be found men in the van of swell- dom who, regretting the past and recoz- nizing the imposeibility of recalling its manners and customs, are fain to form cults founded on their own perfections, as shown in their mirrors and reflected in the flattery and serviie imitation of their followers and discipl These leaders of jashion are wrapred up entirely in seem- with b ing they have no concern tever. ting your soup with your nose in the plate is vulgar; it hes the appearance of being used to hard work and, of cour-e, an cnsteady hand.” This.is notone of the late Bill Nye’s jokes; nor was it tered by Mark Twain or Frank Stockton, b was said in sober earnest by the ex- alted Lord Chesterfield. him to have been necessary to gointo minutie regarding the minor conduct of life, and alter reading his book we are forced to the conclusion that Henrv Es mond was the “‘baseless fabric of avision, and that such a fine gentleman could never have existed in thedays of the Duke of Mariborough. Lord Chesterfield, however, uniike the rest of the brotherhood of dandies, had good excuse for 1he writing of his “Let- ters,” in the gross profligacy of the age in which be lived. The tremendous reaction against Puritanism that set in at the restoration of Charles II swiftly reached its futlest growth in the corrupt court of that King, who himself surpassed any of bis subjects in his cynical disbelief in the bonesty of men or the purity of women. The life of the times that ended with the Revo'ution and the final disappearance of the house of Stuart was incredibly abom- inable, as we see it hinted atin the pages of Evelyn and Pepys and unblushingly portrayed in the unspeakably filthy plays of Wycherly and Conzreve. "o say of shame—what is it? Of virtue—we can miss it, 0Of sin—we can but kiss it, Aud it's 0o longer sin. of a y was contented with asal ing smong the aristocracy and gentry of Eng- land in those days. Buffoonery, lewdness, the language and manners of the stews snd public jakes, permeated the very court, and we may infer the nature of what passed for social intercourse in those days when such a man as Dean Swift, himself noturiously course, felt impelled to write his “Polite Conversation,” which might have been merely a verbatim re- port of what passed between the Lady Smarts and Lord Sparkishes of the time. The reveling in moral filth and ordure finaliy roused the sensibilities of men who, though lacking in morality them- selves and wholly given up to sceming, yet possessed a sense of decency. Among them was Lord Chesterfield, who revoited at the notion of meeting men and women f a life-saving crew | from the one to hness with a love of | merican imagination, for | their hands | t of explaining to make the | cefully squirt- | er, as he sat | It appeared to ! | { | | | | special kind indeed ) commendable i 10 conjure up anythin the scene here presented ingen could dicate writer sgination which s is gifted nds Truth v Wer: akin to those of scullions kitchen wenches. Men and women of the rank of Chester- field were hardly ready for the cospe such a man as Dr. Jobnson; but th could be reached by the writings of on of themselves, and such teaching as Chesterfield inculcated was drawn from the lessons of the life of the foremost oan | in Europe—tiie Duwke of Mariborough, who, in Chesterfield’s own words, “en- grossed the graces.” It was an age of shams and doub when the only realities were bard blows | {and *“the drumming guns that have no | doubts.” Lord Chesterfield died in 1773. His let- ters were published in 1774 and pirated in 1775, when there appeared a small book | with a lengthy title, such as was in vogue | in those days. Itreads: PRINCIPL! and | t | KNOWIN [ | | | LORD C LD. Methodised and under distinet | | hends, | | WITH ADDITIONS, | By the Reverend | [ DR. JOHN TRUSLER, Containir Every instruction neces to complete the gentleman and man of fashion, to teach | him a knowledge of life and meke him well received in all companies. For the IMPROVEMENT OF YOUTH; Yet not beneath the attention of any. i | | | | MDCCLXXYV. In accordance with the custom of thoss | days, the pious thief dedicated his book | to a scion of the nobility—Lora Lizonier | of Clonmel, “the truest model of a well- | bred man.” Having tickied this patron, | who was also “‘colonel of the Ninth Regi- ment of Foot,” the reverend pirate pro- | ceeded in his ““advertisement,” or preface, | to flatter ““persons possessed of a liberai | THE THIRD EDITION, | | | education, Ry leav out much that might have been said on the subject of y.” Mark the rascal's wiles. | Then, that none should slip through his letters” is published at a ‘“‘tenth part of the price those letters sel! for!” ment of speaking French were also prom- { language. We get further evidence of his pious thrift in a reference he makes to | “Johnson's Folio Dictionary,” which he | proncuncesto be *'very serviceabie” ; this | is directly foliowed by a recommendation | of his own “Difference Between Words volumes, written by me some years ago, and published by Dodsley,” and which was, doubtless, a shameless compilation from the poor scholar’s great work.. This maker of books, in the section wherein he pleads for orthography as part of a gentleman’s equipment, says, ‘“reading therefore with atention (sic) witl teach every one to spell right.” “Attentive’’ in the same paragraph also lacks a “'t.” A glance through the table of contents gives us an insight into the manners of an agenotso far removed from our own, when it was necessary to instruct a “‘gen- | tleman not to smell 10 their meat nor spit on the carpet!” These two matters | are discussed among others as “sundry little accomplishments!” There were allowable degrees of thrifty net, be draws attention to the fact | | that ths “essence of Lord Chesterfield’s | Those who possessed the accomplish- | | ised an edition of his compilation in that | | i | Reputed Synonymous; a work i two| That was the sort of feeling that prevailed the road and taunts it with its futility. More plausible than the ve-t array of facts ver exisied, it assumes absolute and subordinates ‘acts to its own ne of scheme of phoniously, d its own im press eu- however ix res impression picturesqu on. is to terfield insists tnat it “wounld be a very poor cemmendation of any s cleanliness to say that he was not emed to be mecessary to tell men hion that they shoulin’t cough in lasses nor pick their teeth with their S =\ T 7N mhft}w{,‘ 1 1 correctly. The pctur: herewith does not indicate | that the Prince went out in the boat at | all. Toe syndicate ariicle accompanying | it sfficms bat he did. Whether he aid or | did uot is immaterial to the sense of the | exploit—it was the freak of a sc:oolboy rather than the deliberate act of a man | endeavoring to be useful, whichever way the Prince carried it out. Imagine a man zoing out to rescue an imaginary ship in imaginary distress while an imaginary storm was blowing. Oron the other hand | | desirous of emulating the deeds of men, | imagine a man standing on the shore, afraid to venture out, but sending other men out while a real storm was blowing. 1f there was a real storm the Prince cov- | ered himself with contempt by staying ashore and pretending to direct the res- cue. It there was no realstorn: he evoked | the ridicule of the gods by going out and | directing undes the pretense that it was a hazardous feat. And in putting the life- boat crew to all that trouble and exposing |it to the danger, if danger there was, simply to furnish a stage settting for him 10 pose-in, like a boy strutting around the nursery in & 10y uniform, the Prince acted ignobly, whetber there. was a storm vn or not, or whetuer he went out in it or stayed asnore. Contemplate for a moment this syndi- cate view of itz It was almost like a play, but & very realistic t Adier circling about a lite, &s if fn search of a vessei in distress, the Prince was seen to ehade his eyes with his hand. Then he gave a quick order and the bost turned in & new direction as readily as the dainty half- rater answers the helm when her skipper is sailing her. The crew of the lileboat puiled like madmen. Had they been rowing (0 save | ® hundred lives they could have done no | better. Tue Prince encoursged thew wiwn voice and gestare, Thoss wuo were watching the manenvers through fieldgiasses saw ihe muscies staad out un the rowers' arms like the rigging ofa ship iu a gale of wind. Faster and iaster moved tlie big boat until apparently the ves | se: 10 disiress was near at baud. Then with a skill that only sailors can appreciate. she | rounded 1o beside or within easy aistance of | the imaginary crait to wuose succor she had gome. With u gesture full of nauticai grace | the Prince moiioned 1o the crew as he was seen to speak to them. Keaching down in the | stern sheets he pulled into view a coil of light | line, which in turn was attached to & coil of rope. Givingita wave about his nead, after the fashion of the Americen cattieman who is seeking to throw a iasso over s refraciory beast, he gave the line a skillful throw with | tremendous force. “I'his sort of thing is becoming fatiguing. Royalty may nurture in its soul the unc- taous notion that the freaks which {t in- dulges in wil always interest the lay world just because royaity 1s the actor. The lay world craves something to wor- ship, something to admire, something to marvel at and talk about. But in one or two directions the laymen of the world are not the fools they seem, and in the direction of royalty’s ostentatious antics they do not always gaze with blinded eyes. Quite commonly the fallacies of great pre- tensions are seen through by them, even when their admiration of the airs which the great ones put on seems the most eftusive and the talk about them runs the loudest. For the world often pre- tends to acmire when 1t doesn’t, and chatters words which it doesn’t mean. It does this not so much to please the ones admired or the ones talked about as to en joy the sensation of unison with a chorus of kindred ad- mirers and talkers, yThe world moves in concerts and by periods of iashion, and it will sacrifice everything for the sake of “doing as others do.” And the wor!d asa concerted whole is growing weary of pretending to applaud the sttitudinizings of its eminent men, Lung ago it ceased to applaud them genuinely., The time is coming, praise God! when the world will laugh whena prince strikes an attitade or poses befora the lens of a newspaper press that is athirst for freaks. CARROLL CARRINGTON. A Venetian firm is making vonnets of spun glass, which are soft as silk. OME ANIMADVERSIONS ON THE | that I am not insensible of your unhap- piness, that I take part in your distress and shball ever be affected when you are s0. Men were allowed to live after such ‘‘compliments of condolence” 1n those | days. . Earinveg your soup WITH YOQUR NOSE IN THE f4 PLATE 15 yuLGAR! forks! The picking of teeth was allow. able, it appears, after but not before the removal of the dishes. *‘One may always know a gentleman by the.state of his hands and nails. When the nails are cut down to the quick it is & shrewd sign that the man is a mechanic, or that he gets his bread by fiddling'’ says this censor morum. “To say to a man who bas lost his wile,”” he goes on, “‘I am sorry for your loss,’ may be ctvil, but 1t is nevertheless vuigar. A man of fashion will advance slowly toward him who is 1n affliction, and with a peculiar composure of voice and countenance begin his com- personal uncleanliness in those days, pliments of condolence with, 'I hope, sir, at Whiteba!l whose speech and manaers (it wounld appear, but my Lord Ches- | you will do me the justice to be persuaded | OUccESs WiTH WOMEN WAS TO BE SOUGHT BY AN APPEAL TO THEIR VANITY —_— Small talk was to bs best acquired by frequenting the company of ladies, and “food and the flavor and growth of wines” were recommended as subjects for fash- jonable cnit-chat. As though laaies know anything about food and wine! Success with women was to be sought by an apoeal to their vanity. ““They have an intolerable share of it. No fiattery, no RINCIPLE adulation is too gross for them.” vastly different are ladies now! The company of men of learning and genius was to be *occasionally courted, | How | | but let it not engross you lest you be con- | sidered as one of the literati, which how- | ever respectable in name, is not the way to | Fashion starved literary men in those | S DONOT CuT FHENALS 7o0cloSe OR You ray \BE ACCUSED oF WORKING For A Livig 4 days by neglect; now it starves them by | taking to literature as a fad and glutting | A | the mpackot withithe ngstnseat itn pen. Chesierfield’s time. “A mat may smile,” be says, ““but if he wonld be thought a gentleman and & man of sense he should by nomeans laugh, Tiue wit mever yeu; " 8 TRUE wiT NEVER YET MADE made a man of fashion laugh—he is above itl” A refusal to drink at a man’s table when | asked todo so, is to be thus expressed: “You wish you could, but that so little | makes you both drunk and sick that you shall only be baa company by doing it. nise or shine in the fasnionable world.” | This light way of declining invitations is | mcre becoming a young man than philo- sophical or sententious refusals, which would only be laughed at.” The following amusements were to be | avoided as vulgar: Cribbage, cricket, football, ariving of coaches and fiddling. “Pay fiadlers to play to you, but never fiddle yourself.” Ah, but nere at last is a nut with a| | kernel in it—the derivation of the term “10 take French leave” : ““Pulling out your atch in company unasked is a mark of ill- MAN OF FASHION LAUGH. "!: breeding. If you want to know the time, Laugnter was a sign of vulgarity in | withdraw; besides, as the taking what is called a French leave is introduced—that on one person’s leaving the company the rest might not be disturbed—iooking st your.walch does.what that piece of polite- LITENESS ness was designed to prevent,” How far we have improved in manners and advanced along the path from seem- ag to being may be inferred from the fact that, though it is Dot necessary to tell ,people *‘not to smell to their meat,” our municipal authorities are everywhere enacting by-laws for the prevention of | spitting on the sidewalks; and in every town 1s a ridiculous clique calling itselt | “The Four Hund:ed” —and this in a democratic country ! J. Laxap. He Obeyed Orders. There is one man in the empioy of the San Francisco and North Pacific Railroaa who obeys orders to the letter, and as a result of his pect liarity in thisline his superior, Frank K. Zook, the chief engi- neer of the road, received a most unique message a few days ago. The employe’s name is P. H. Finnegan— Pat Finnegan for short—and he is a sec- tion boss on the line near Ukiab. Several months ago, shortly after Finnegan was raised to his present rank, an accident oc- curred within bhis jurisdiction and he out- did himself reporting the matter to Mr. | Zook. It told how the train came rushing down the track, how it p.unged off the embank- ment, how the passengers screamed, and than went into minute details regarding | te methods used to place the train on ths track, get the engine into running order and start the train for its destination. He prided himself tnat he had done a partic- uiarly fine job on i he report and was very much chagrined when the following teles gram came in answer: innegan, Ukiah: Report too long. No | tim> 10 read books. Make reports short. Boil "em down to words. ZooK. | Not long since another accident hap- pened on Finnegan’s section and he fig- ured eight hours how to teil about it and still obev orders. Finally he threw his notes in the fire and sent the following: | F: K. Zook, S. F.: Another derailment, Off again, on again, gone again. FINNEGAN. ot o Thomas Garlyle. The front. room of the fourti: story, his study, is the most interesting spot in the building, for its walls witnessed the birth of his great “‘History of the French Revo- lution” and his famous *'Life of Frederick the Great,”” a work which brought him a compliment which he considered the greatest he had ever received, says the Chautauquan. In a quiet parsonage in England a young girl, th: daughter of the clergyman, lay - dying, consumption slowly consuming her budding life; but she daily asked ber nurse io bring Carlyle’s “Life of Frederick the Great.” Because she thought it too heavy and tir- ing for her her muiber euntreated her to stop reading it, but the invalid begged for it, “‘because 1t was so intensely interesting and absorbing’ that it was a comfort to her. And thus they found her when earthly pain had ceased—the book grasped lovingly in the tnin, pale hands. . Her father wrote Carlyle about it, and never was the philosopher greater than when he declare, the letter still in his hands and the tears running down hix furrowed cheeks, that this alone repaid bim for all the labor he had expended on the book. Reticent and indifferent, few knew the real Carlyle, but the roughest shells some- times inclose the sweetest kernels. CEET S The height of waves in the sea bas often been exaggerated, owing to the difficulty of ‘measuring them, but the highest au. thentic observation is about forty feet,