When a leading statesman is also a model of decorum

Good manners are an outward sign of inward grace, a harbinger of nicely judged moral actions, warmly reflecting decency in thought. And by good manners I do not mean Osric-like flourishes or Chesterfield’s polished insincerity. Good manners involve taking trouble, a degree, however slight, of self-sacrifice and unselfishness. They are the trade goods of civilisation and, as Yeats observed, civilisation is an exercise in self-restraint. Lockwood wrote of Sir Walter Scott, ‘He was a gentleman even to his dogs.’ I have often puzzled over this remark, for it is sometimes difficult to be good-mannered to dogs, with their bottomless servility. Cats are a different matter, having a super-fine dignity which a dog can never attain. Dr Johnson, not by customary standards well-mannered, was certainly a gentleman to his cats, especially Hodge, being careful to say nothing in his hearing which might offend.

Good manners flourish when the example is set from above.