Hosting

Can’t stop, I’m prepping for a party chez nous for Mrs. VB’s birthday. Remember the golden rules:

1. Don’t allow glasses to reach empty.

2. Ask the guests about them, and stop wittering on about oneself.

3. Be charming. Always be charming.

4. Do everyone the honour of looking good, but don’t look like you did everyone the honour of looking good.

5. Stay a few shades under a skin full. No man ever cut La Bella Figura when three sheets to the wind.

Until tomorrow, dear friends.

Spirit of the Season

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. (Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, 1843).

It is perhaps unlikely that any apparition will poke its nose through your bed curtains this year, forcing you to examine yourself and all your foibles, but that should not hinder you in your own self-examination. The ghosts of Christmases past, present and yet to come are duly encompassed by the conscience, which in our case, unlike in Scrooge’s, works quite well enough I am sure.

Have we been miserly and mean? Short-tempered and brusque? Uncharitable and callous? Have we lost our humanity in the hurly burly? Our good sense for the sake of dollars and cents? I trust not, but I for one welcome the opportunity to check. We drift into new habits of misanthropy if we let down our guard – which we all assuredly do at times – because the people we meet whom we do not know tend to encourage ill feeling. The crowds of a busy shopping street; the impatient assemblage of the supermarket queue; the drivers who make up the holiday traffic; TV weather men; teenagers on the train; pressure salesmen; surly waiters, and so on. Unless we come up for air from this sea of awfulness, we might feel justified in beginning to think that people are generally bad. But when we are abroad among the madding crown, and other people meet us, they likely think that we too are the pit of humanity!

Since this clearly won’t do, I suggest getting in touch with our better natures in the spirit of the season. A little sympathy here, perhaps; a little generosity there. Prepare to charm and be charmed, and to let the things that rub us the wrong way go by without a second thought. Be generous in giving, and humble in receipt. And give of yourself – your time, your ears – and not just of your wallet. In any case, I’m sure you’ve all been thoroughly nice all year. But best to check, lest you should hear the rattling of chains.

Charm: Offensive? Part IV

Ambition – it is the last infirmity of noble minds (J.M. Barrie, The Twelve-Pound Look).

Who deserves to be charmed, and who are the charming? It should so far be clear that I am no advocate of false charm, but rather see that the rewards of charm must reflect its genuine qualities. The charming man is usually superior to his audience in this respect, for he sees in them what they most wish to see in themselves, but they are incapable of returning the insight. It is true that, in the case of despicable people, the charming man may choose to withhold that which would charm, for he may see no purpose in inflating the bad. Then again, if, as I maintain, everyone has something to redeem them, then the accentuation of this quality may nudge the bad man toward the good. We are wont to do that which brings us popularity and success, and it is as well that these things are wrought by that which is good in us, for history reveals ample proof that they need not be. It is possible, therefore, for the charming man to facilitate power without necessarily taking it. It would indeed be so much the better if charming men were our electors, for then we should have leaders chosen for their better qualities, instead of leaders who put themselves forward with inflated ideas of their own virtues.

The great pleasure of being truly charming is to see people basking in the goodness of themselves, and to know that it was you who put them there. They will, perhaps, love you and reward you for it. Insofar as charm is to offer generosity, therefore, it also reflects back and serves the interests of the charming. I must be clear, again, that these interests cannot determine charm, for this will lead us to flattery and deception. Rather, one must assume that good follows good, and that what we sow we shall someday reap, without knowing in advance the nature of our crop. The charming man therefore actively pursues the good, but he does not reduce his goals to ambition. He may seem self-effacing, but in reality he knows that his rewards will be just.

Charm: Offensive? Part III

I do not want to leave aside an important matter, a mistake that it is easy for a Prince to make unless he is very prudent and has good judgement. This concerns flatterers, of which the courts are full, for men become so obsessed with their own affairs, deceiving themselves in the process, that it is difficult to defend themselves from this plague. In seeking to combat it, one runs the risk of becoming hated. There is no other defence against flattery than letting men know that they do not offend you by telling you the truth (Machiavelli, The Prince).

Perhaps what should have been said is that charm as deceit is not charm at all, but simply deceit. Intention is all important when considering the charming, for indeed, true charm has good ends. We must be able to discern the difference between that which is shallow and that which is deep: the depth of true charm is its paradox of self-effacement that is in turn endearing. The charming do not self-promote, but rather accentuate the positive in those around them. As parties disperse and partygoers reflect on the evening, the man who was charming will be on their lips, not because of his accomplishments or charisma, but because he allowed others to see themselves in the best light.

But true charm is not mere flattery, for in accentuating the positive, the charming man must light upon genuine qualities that are in fact there. This author is no fan of flattery. I’ve said somewhere within these pages in the past that the question, ‘does my bum look big in this?’ is one of the most symbolically violent acts between the sexes in the West. If the answer is ‘yes’ then the straightforward man might feel loathe to say ‘no’, and yet he surely must, or at least have enough of an idea of his interlocutor’s wardrobe to be able delicately to suggest something else. At its worst, flattery is lying, and lying cannot be true charm. Mere flattery is simply deceit by another name.

The charming man must therefore be a man of great insight, for he must see that which redeems us. People are wont to project that which is negative, perhaps not perceiving the ways in which they tend to be received. We form instant judgements based on appearances, first utterances, a look in the eye, a tone of voice. The charming man sees through this to our greatest qualities and, as he affirms those qualities, we relax under his gaze and warm to his approach. We know not about him, and we do not realise that we have not asked. The charming man will be sought again, because people will think to themselves that they like him. Actually, they have simply realised that they like themselves. When people like themselves – when they feel that they are good – they are more likely to be good to themselves and to manifest their goodness to others. The charming man therefore facilitates the good.

Charm: Offensive? Part II

Not for the first time, my most faithful reader has pushed me to elaborate: ‘I should like to know what part of charm is flattery, what part deception, what part politic acts, what part generosity and what part pleasure’. Not wishing to disappoint, and thinking the subject worthy, I hereby undertake a more detailed look at charm – what it is, and what it’s worth. Further instalments will follow shortly.

Let us begin with deception, for here we find charm at its utilitarian worst. In the main I would like to distance my usage of charm, the word and the act, from its literal association with the casting of spells. When borne of temperate and decent natures, charm may intoxicate but it will never be the malignant concoction of the sorcerer; it will never cause the hypnotic state of the snake. Unfortunately, precisely this brand of charm has long been a feature of our literary villainy, with Iago as the patron saint. This could make one very wary of charm and the apparently charming, and indeed might make us take seriously those warnings of Anthony Blanche, warnings that might very well have applied to himself.

Where this works in literature and drama is precisely where it fails in life. Dramatic irony always underscores the naïveté of the beguiled victims, with the thinness of the superficial charm clear for the audience to see. This usually causes an unfavourable judgment of the victim, rather than the perpetrator, for being so gullible. It’s no different to the standard emplotment of stories concerning cowboy builders and phony meter readers. The vulnerability of the victim is always the leitmotiv. They are somewhat pathetic, pitiable creatures, who fall into the category of ‘one born every minute’. The despicably charming are scolded for their callousness, but we all assume that the trick would not have worked on us. These men are newsworthy because they are exceptional. On the whole, one cannot be deceptively charming in a sustained way. The pitfalls are too great; people are too wise, or else suspicious; and the web of deceit becomes quickly and horribly complex. Not for nothing is Othello a tragedy.

In sum, charm as deceit is not for us. True charm, insofar as it can be cultivated, is an expression of character. About that, we shall have more to say anon.