MIND YOUR MANNERS: It makes civilization possible.

In 1954, Bobbs-Merrill brought out Louis Kronenberger's Company Manners. The book was subtitled "A Cultural Inquiry into Modern American Life." In his introductory chapter, Kronenberger described the modern age as one of "comparative courtesy" (italics mine). He said, "...it is not what past periods have been...ages of extremely arrogant, of appallingly rude, behavior." As an example he described the eighteenth century, the so-called Augustan Age, as one that "was in general the most high-handed, quarrelsome, insulting, slanderous, straight-out downright rude age-rude to the point of being brutal, rude to the point of being cruel-that one could well conceive. In contrast, Kronenberger described his own age as one of conformity.

If Kronenberger were to write such a book today, however, he would find that his "comparative courtesy" has vanished and so has conformity. He would undoubtedly join the chorus of those alarmed about the decline of civility, a decline to what is very like his description of the Augustan Age. It has gotten so bad that it has become a subject for the comic pages. A recent Sunday comic strip by cartoonist Wiley Miller called "American Discourse" showed a hapless man saying, "Of course, that's just my opinion." In response, he is belabored and screamed at by a purse-whacking woman. Prostrate, he feebly inquires, "Whatever happened to 'I disagree'?" That well may be the general question: Whatever happened to civil disagreement?

Over half the United States Congress has, this year and last, gone on a three-day retreat in the hope of recovering civility in the nation's business. Last year's retreat cannot have been a success: otherwise this year's would not have been thought necessary. Judith Martin, the columnist who writes under the pseudonym Miss Manners, points out why many efforts at recovering civility fail. They are based, she says, on the assumption that if people get to know and like each other they will automatically behave well. This means that their legitimate differences would be brushed aside-that they would agree because of a kind of cronyism-when what they really need is to find a way to be polite when disagreeing.

True courtesy is based on cultural traditions (including eating rituals) and is safeguarded by rules based on deep principles. Above all it is based on respect for other people's feelings. One of the worst abuses of courtesy today is the tendency to make honesty an excuse for rudeness. Honesty is a virtue, true, but as Miss Manners says, it does not trump all others. It does not justify unkindness and rudeness. Whatever some people might think, it does not license them to tell others that they look awful or are stupid, etc. This attitude is compounded by those who look on tact as hypocritical, like the television personality who served her guests badly seasoned food and, after hearing their polite comments, taped their remarks when they were out of the room. What did she prove? That her guests were deceptive in being considerate of her feelings? Surely a reason for commendation, not censure.

All over the country the problem of the decline of civility is being studied in sessions like the daylong seminar on civility held at Washington's prestigious Cosmos Club, haven of the capital's intellectuals. But if civility is to be restored it will probably have to be instilled little by little from the very beginning. In an interview on "The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer," Margaret Edson, Pulitzer- winning playwright of the Broadway hit Wit, was asked whether her kindergarten students knew of her award. They did, she said very seriously, and because "we spend a good deal of time talking about manners and feelings, they said 'Congratulations.' I said, 'Thank you,' and they said, 'You're welcome.'" In other words, they had learned one of the most fundamental cultural traditions.

It would be better, of course, as Miss Manners has noted, if these things were learned at home rather than at school. But there are various reasons why schools have taken on the task. One of the most basic, of course, is the need to maintain order, from elementary school on, so that everyone can learn. At the college level, however, the trend goes far beyond that. In the 1960s and 1970s, under the pressure of the student revolt, colleges abandoned their role of in loco parentis. Now they have assumed it again under pressure from the former rebels who are now parents.

One of the new departures is the introduction of etiquette courses. According to an article by Amy Joyce in the Washington Post (August 2, 1998), the demand for such courses originates in the business world. Too many college graduates aren't prepared for power lunches or client dinners. "What is important in the business world is impressing clients," Joyce says, "or at least not making them ill with gross behavior." Cynthia Lett, a teacher of etiquette, goes further. "Nobody wants to be around a rude clod," she says. "People like to do business with people they like." So we find that Pennsylvania State University, the University of Virginia, and the University of Dayton are now among the schools offering Dining Etiquette 101. The courses may deal only with form, but they affect attitude.

Success in the business world is a powerful motive for achieving civility. So is being comfortable in the world at large-getting along with other people under as many circumstances as possible. A further reward is the fact that good manners are an effective shield against intrusiveness, vulgar curiosity, and hostile rudeness on the part of others. All are blunted by a smooth courteous response. Critic Jonathan Yardley, writing last month about Southern author Eudora Welty's ninetieth birthday, said that Welty's impeccable manners "exist not merely to put others at ease but also as a shield against invasion of the inner self" (Washington Post, April 19).

Civility has as many rewards as it has dimensions. Let us hope that the adoption of its forms in schools and elsewhere will bring it back and make it again a mark of our age.