The Better World
A Civil Democracy
By John and Lynne Diamond-Nigh

Q:  What’s so American about civility?

A:  Here we are in Paris, where we come each spring to teach—I know, we must have saved a lot of wounded animals or dying orphans in our last lives. We’ve left behind the late-winter snows of Elmira and entered the mild, flower-brimming April that Paris so beautifully affords. Children squeal their toy sailboats across the wading pool in the Luxembourg Gardens. The city’s great church organists tear into their Toccatas with exultant spring zeal and, best of all, the windows of pastry shops are colorfully stacked with new seasonal versions of a cookie called the macaron—tiny artworks of ambrosial perfection bearing hoity-toity names like Isphahan and Celeste. It’s a sort of confectionary Stanley Cup playoff among the pastry chefs of Paris to see who concocts the most divine cookie each spring. Of course, we try them all and judge for ourselves.

Such is this city, a place of the purest and most incandescent enchantment. It is not hard to understand why Paris has exerted such a durable thrall over Americans, especially during the first half of the 20th century, when a weak French currency and the stiff drought of Prohibition made Paris so appealing. Stop for a moment: there is where the famous Dingo Bar once stood, where Hemingway first met F. Scott Fitzgerald, and where Fitzgerald confided to his new friend his anxiety about a rather diminutive—well, call it a body part. Hemingway took Fitzgerald to the Louvre, pointed out a naked Greek statue and said, “Look at him: you’re fine.”

But our betrothal to France goes further back. We shared, more or less, a revolution with the French. Several of our founding fathers lived here, including John (and Abigail) Adams, their son, John Quincy Adams, Benjamin Franklin and, above all, Thomas Jefferson, who devoutly admired this country and who strove to graft onto our young nation as much French civility as he possibly could. Revolution was one thing, but after that a new country needed a tranquilizing dose of order and civic enlightenment.  Jefferson was our “Parisian,” exactly at that moment when we needed a man of his civilizing genius. I have never been to Monticello, but I have visited the University of Virginia, designed by Jefferson to be what the ancient Greeks called an agora, a sort of village square rimmed with beautiful buildings, where citizens of all walks of life could mingle, share ideas, and solve difficulties in a spirit of fraternal responsibility. That was his ideal for a young American democracy, rooted in Greece and Rome and passing to America by way of France.

But, hey, isn’t civility just being nice?  Back on my desk in Elmira sits a wonderful quote from Samuel Adams. I intended to bring it with me. The gist is this: as soon as good manners and civility (what we once called “common courtesy”) decline, democracy itself will collapse. How very French! Jefferson would concur.  

Lynne is an etiquette and protocol consultant and a humanities professor at Elmira College. John is an artist and designer. Please send questions and comments to thebetterworld@mountainhomemag.com.