Editorial

The Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour

Thursday, March 5, 2026

There is a great little book I purchased for seven dollars on Amazon, and it was really more like a pamphlet than a book. The 4” x 7” hardback contains only 30 pages, but if you enjoy a glimpse into early American life, the evolution of the English language, and a refresher course on gentility, it is a very satisfying 30 pages.

The book is titled Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation. It is attributed to none other than George Washington, though there is a significant asterisk attached to his byline. It is a compilation he assembled at age 14 based upon a 1595 Jesuit etiquette manual originally published in French.

In a world where the best arguments are supported by three examples, bar stools have four legs, our Constitution has ten original amendments and the Bible gave us ten commandments (15 for Mel Brooks fans), Washington’s little book packs a whopping 110 rules. Some are short declarative sentences, while others are a bit longer and more complex, but none exceed a single page.

Many of Washington’s rules offer a glimpse into daily life during his time. Rule #9, for example, advises, “Spit not into the fire, nor stoop low before it; neither put your hands into the flames to warm them, nor set your feet upon the fire, especially if there be meat before it.” That seems simple enough.

There are also a few rules that should go without saying, such as #2, “When in company, put not your hands to any part of the body not usually discovered,” and #7, “Put not off your clothes in the presence of others, nor go out of your chamber half dressed.” One wonders whether these were common problems in the 18th century.

By the time the list reaches the 90s, Washington is tackling dining etiquette with a thoroughness that would give Emily Post a run for her money. Rule #90 says, “Being set at meat scratch not, neither spit, cough or blow your nose except there’s a necessity for it,” while #94 reminds us, “If you soak bread in the sauce, let it be no more than what you put in your mouth at a time, and blow not your broth at table but stay ’til it cools of itself.”

I have known about this book for some time. Documentaries and historical readings occasionally reference it in discussions of Washington’s leadership. One rule frequently cited is #69, which says, “If two contend together, take not the part of either unconstrained, and be not obstinate in your own opinion. In things indifferent be of the major side.” That sounds suspiciously like Politics 101.

The real value of the book, however, lies in the principles many of us might wish we had taken more seriously at age 14. Perhaps I did encounter them earlier. Perhaps they simply did not stick. Either way, I wish I had paid closer attention to a few of these along the way. Rule #44 reminds us, “When a man does all he can, though it succeed not well, blame not him that did it,” while #65 advises, “Speak not injurious words neither in jest nor earnest; scoff at none although they give occasion.”

Another rule that might have saved me some trouble in my youth is #56: “Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for ’tis better to be alone than in bad company.” Hindsight is 20/20, but I also should have observed #82 and #89 more closely: “Undertake not what you cannot perform but be careful to keep your promise,” and “Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.”

What ultimately defines the spirit of the book for me is how it begins and ends. Rule #1 tells us, “Every action done in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those that are present,” while #110 concludes with a reminder that may be the most important of all: “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”

Washington’s rules are borrowed, and the archaic language can feel a bit thick at times. Yet the principles behind them remain timeless—enough so that they are still worth absorbing, even if we learn to appreciate their value a little later in life.

Respond to this story

Posting a comment requires free registration: