COURTESY IN LITERATURE

Evening Star, Issue 22709, 24 July 1937, Page 21

COURTESY IN LITERATURE

[Written by Eileen Duggan, for the ‘ Evening Star.’] That fine hook, ‘ Tho Desert Fathers,’ by Helen Waddell, claims lor its subjects that they stamped the notion of infinity on tho imagination of the West. Their own courtesy seemed almost infinite, and it was not ceremonious, not ritual. Its simplicity sprang from the heart. One of tho hermits, Macarius, was given a bunch of grapes Ho sent it to one of the brethren who was sick. He passed it on to another whom ■ho thought weaker than himself, and it went from band to hand until in tho end it returned to Macarius. Christopher Morley has a similar story on the apple that each man thought too good for himself. There is a vast difference between this courtesy and that unction which is “ laid on with a trowel.” One of the Bibescos in her reminiscences tells that she once mentioned Disraeli to Asquith, who shrugged and said: “ Incredible creature!” Was he thinking of his communications to Queen Victoria? And yet, in domestic courtesy, Disraeli’s performance was sincere and fine. Shane Leslie records an instance when a king rose above etiquette in consideration for a guest. An Eastern Prince, dining with Edward_ VH., flung the skins of fruit over his shoulder. Edward, noticing that _ some were aghast, calmly followed suit. Courtesy transcended convention. _ _ There is an intellectual superiority that outrages courtesy more flagrantly than the boorislmess which springs from ignorance. In that scholarly book of essays, 1 A Cheerful Ascetic,’ we find a reference to Diogenes which bears this out. Alexander asked the cynic what he could do for him, and he answered curtly; “Stand out of my light!” Whitman’s turbulent injunction: “Resist much, obey little!” was founded on a desire to see his country independent rather than aloof. There was an elemental chivalry in the sago of Manhattan which counselled pity for, _ not withdrawal from, tho imperfections of his brethren. Nor is courtesy that condescending notice conferred by Belloc’s Monomatapans, who pretend that foreigners are Monomatapans even when they cannot speak tho tongue; for political diplomacy approximates to business civility, which deceives neither vendor nor purchaser, but would, like raiment, be missed if it were not present. It is claimed for the Americans that they have domestic courtesy, and tho very words bring back all that has been written on Sir Thomas More, whose innocent, bustling wife would have maddened by her prattle a lesser man. His rare blend of patience and humour was untinotured by mockery or smugness. Perhaps in his wisdom he saw in her garrulity, with its flashes of self-interest, a symbol of tho whole childish human race. Carlyle had less of this heavenly forbearance in his tilts with a more intelligent and mettled wife. Who can fail to love that bit_ in Barrie’s book on his mother in which she gave it as her opinion that Carlyle was not such an ill man to live with as one who needed a deal of managing? But there were times, sue held, when Carlyle must have made his wife a glorious woman. ‘As when?’ I might inquire, _ _ ► “ When she keeked in at his study door and said to herself, ‘ The whole world is ringing with his fame and he is my man.’ “ ‘ And then,’ I might point out, ‘he would roar to her to shut the door.’

“ ‘ Pooh!’ said my mother, ‘ a man’s roar is neither here nor there.’ But her verdict as a whole was, ‘ I would rath'er have been his mother than his wife.’ ” This very book, ‘ Margaret Ogilvy,’ is a masterpiece of domestic courtesy, founded like the courtesy of Storrington on “ the grace of God.” Discourtesy to the poor cries_ to heaven. In one of Agnes Repplier’s careful essays I came on an anecdote that raised a heat of rage in the writer, and no wonder! “ I have seen,” she said, “ a gatekeeper at Jersey City take by tho shoulders a poor German, whose ticket called for another train, and shove him roughly out of the way without a word of explanation.” She added that the man, numb, bub unresentful, turned back to his wife from whom he had just parted. Neither understood why the porter had trust him back, and the two poor creatures, isolated and penalised by their ignorance of the language, whispered helplessly together. In marked contrast to this was the conduct of tho author, M'Fee, to Tommy, a seaman, one of tho characters of his ‘ Casuals of the Sea.’ M'Fee was his engineer, and his letters to this devoted sailor were models of pawky sense rather than of literary style. Their language was such as the simple Dutch boy could understand, and they dealt with topics that concerned his welfare. Ho told him what to see and where to stay. To be concerned for another and for his sake to keep within the limits of his comprehension—that was true courtesy; nor is it safe to be arrogant. Poverty can deny opportunity to the poor, but it cannot deny individuality, as the Pharisee found when Christ rebuked him for omitting tho gentle rites of hostship. There is in our own country a Maori proverb, the legend behind which you will find in John White’s ‘ Ancient History of the Maori.’ “ The courtyard of Hina,” it runs, “ will not be trodden by a war party.” It is a tale that is rooted in courtesy, domestic courtesy deferring to human courtesy. Hina was tbo daughter of Maniapoto and the wife of a chief of the Ngati-Raukawa tribe, and when a war began between her tribe and the Ngati-Raukawa the latter were routed, and, fleeing before the Maniapoto, approached the home of Hina. Maniopoto, knowing that her very essence was peace, called out: “ Who are those who pursue? Do not intrude on the courtyard of Hina!” Abashed, they went back to their homes. And so tho courtyard of Hina passed into a proverb and became a sanctuary for refugees. If the Waikato people did not desire war they repeated this proverb as a statement of non-intervention in a combat or as a renunciation of revenge for a wrong. In one of Pearse’s plays a sovereign is defeated and declares that only under a righteous king can his people conquer. And then arises consternation, and each man confesses himself unworthy of that word; but the children put forward a young boy, claiming him to bo without sin. Tho child guesses that he will die if ho leads that army, but he steps forward to receive the sword, saying, “ Let me do this little thing, O King.” That is the ultimate courtesy.