Etiquette OF THE Best Society r V. LIBRARY UNIvtRSITYOr CALIFORNIA SAN 0IEG9 J presented to the LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA • SAN DIF.GO hy FRIENDS OF THE LIliHARY John A. Comstock .L POPULAR BOOKS IN THIS NEW SEEIES. 1. — Ladies' AND Gentlemen's Etiquette of Best Society. — Guide to Politeness. — By Mrs. Jane Aster. 2. — Under the Rose. — By the author of " East Lynne." — " She's a Womau; thereiore to be Won." 3. — Love and Marriage. — Celibacy, Wedded Life, The Ruling Passion, and Impediments to Marriage. 4. — Self Culture in Conversation, Letter Writing, Speech-Making. — By Mrs. Jane Aster, 5. — So Dear a Dream. — A delightful Novel, by Maria M. Grant, author of " The Sun Maid," etc. G. — Give Me Thine EIeart. A very charming and pure Novel, uniform with " So Dear a Dream," etc. 7. — Meeting Her Fate. — By the author of "Aurora Floyd." — "The Woman who Deliberates is Lost." 8. — Faithful to the End. — A delightful new novel by the author of " Give Me Tliine Heart." G. W. CARLETON & CO., PuWisliers, New York. GUIDE TO TRUE POLITENESS. THE LADIES^ AND GENTLEMEN'S ETIQUETTE BOOK OF TEE BEST SOCIETY. INFORMATION AND INSTRUCTION FOB THOSE ABOUT ENTERING, AND THOSE WHO DESIRE TO BECOME EDUCATED AND P0LISIIET» xN GENERAL SOCIETY. CONTAINING NICE POINTS OF TASTE, GOOD MANNERS AND THE ART OP MAKING ONE'S SELF AGREEABLE. A MANUAL OF MANNERS AND CUSTOMS AT TARTIES, BALLS, DINNERS AND SOCIABLES, WITH FOEMS rOB INVITATIONS, BALLS, REGRETS, MARRIAGES. FUNERALS, ETC. m^SEE THE TABLE OF CONTENTS. ,M3 EDITED BT MRS. f JANE ASTER. NEW YORK: Copyright, 1878, by • G. IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers. LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. MDCCCLXXXn. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAOB Thoughts on Society and the Spirit of So- cial Obseevances 23 Mannees 37 How can they be acquired ? Different means investigated. Necessity of some Guide. Ancient and Modern Authorities on Manners. The true principle of Manners. What is Society P The necessity of Social Intercourse. Theee Classes op Bad Society 38 1 Xiow Society, distinguished by Familiarity. Anecdotes of Extreme Familiarity in the last ITiree Centuries. Familiarity from want of Respect; from Coarseness; from Shyness; from Curiosity. 10 CONTENTS. 2. Vulgar Society, distinguished by pretension; Gentility; Servility; Oversvjrupulousness; Assumption of Refinement in Language and iL. Habits 47 Dangerous Society 55 Sketch of English Society from the Six- teenth Century. Rise and present position of the Middle Classes. TuE Requisites of Good Societt 64 1. Good Breeding. 2. Education. 3. Cultivation of Taste. 4. Reason. 5. The Art of Speech. 6. A Knowledge of English Literature, 7. Moral Character. 8. Temper. 9. Hospitality. 10. Good manners. 11. Birth. 12. Wealth. 13. Rank. 14. Distinction. CONTENTS. 11 The Spieit of SociAii Observances 88 The Connection between the Laws of Chris- tianity and those of Society. Domestic Position. Paterfamilias. The Matron. The Young Married Man. The Bachelor. The Young Lady. TJie Art of maJdng One^s self Agreeable. CHAPTER L The Deessing-Room 107 Cleanliness. The Bath: Hot, Cold, and Tepid. The Teeth. The Nails. Razors and Shaving. Beards, Mustaches, Whiskers. The Hair. CHAPTER II. The Lady's Toilet 127 Early Rising. Cleanliness. 12 OONTENTS. Exercise 150 Rouge and Cosmetics. The Hair. Perfumes, Toilet Appliances, «S;o. CHAPTER III. Dbess 163 Fashion; Appropriateness to Age; to Posi- tion; to Place; Town and Country; on the Continent; to Climate; to Size; to different Occasions. Extravagance. Simplicity. Jewelry. Maxims for Ornaments. Orders, &c. Cleanliness and Freshness. Linen. Seasonable Dress. Estimate of a Wardrobe. Morning Dress at Home. Dress for Walking. Dress for Visits. Dress for Dinner Parties. Dress for Evening Parties and Balls. The Hat. Well-dressed and Ill-dressed. CONTENTS. 13 Fast Dressing , 169 Different Styles of Dress. Sporting Costumes. Hunting, &c. CHAPTER IV. Lady's Dress 170 The Love of Dress. Extravagance, Pecuniary, and in Fashion. Modern Dress, Stays, Tightness, &c. Dress and Feeling. The Ordinary In-door Dress. The Ordinary Out-door Dress. Country Dress. Carriage and Visiting Dress. Evening Costume at Home, Dinner Dress. Evening Party Dress. Ball Dress. Riding Dress. Court Dress. CHAPTER V. Accomplishments 20S Their Value. Self-defence — Boxing. 14 CONTENTS. The Sword and the Fist 213 Duelling. Field Spcrts. Riding. Mounting. Assisting a Lady to Mount. Driving. Dancing. Quadrilles. Round Dances. Hints on Dancing. The Valtz. Polka. Other Dances. The Piano. Music in General. Singing. Cards. Round Games. Languages. Knowledge of Current Affairs. Carving: Hints on Carving and Helping. Soup. Fish. Joints (Beef, Mutton, Lamb, Veal, Pork, Ham, Venison). Animals served whole. Fowls, Game, Goose, Turkey, &c. CONTENTS. 16 CHAPTER VL Feminine Accomplishments 259 Their Necessity. Social and Domestic Value. Music. Choice of Instruments. Singing. Age a Restriction. Choice of Songs, Etiquette of Singing and Playing. Appropriateness. German and Italian Singing. Working. Working Parties Abroad. Appropriateness of Work. CHAPTER VII. Mannees, Cakriage, and Habits 270 The Necessity for Laws of Etiquette. Manner: value of a good one. Rules for preserving it. Self-respect. Affectation. Different kinds of Manner to be avoided. 16 CONTENTS. A change of Manner demanded by circum- stances ....... 26G Carriage. Dignity. Physical Carriage, and how a man should ■walk. The Smile. Velieraent action to be avoided. Certain Bad Habits. Smoking discussed. Etiquette thereof. A Lecture on Eating and Drinking at Dinner, and Habits at Meals. CHAPTER VIIL Tee Caeeiage of a Lady 298 Its Importance to the Sex. Young Ladies. Modesty. Agreeableness. Politeness. Dignity. Delicacy of Language. Temper. Fastness, Flirting, &c. The Prude and the Blue-Stocking Bearing of Married Women. CONTENTS. 17 French Manners .... 309 The Physical Carriage of Ladies, CHAPTER IX. In Public 311 The Promenade. The "Cut." Its Folly and objectionable character. Sometimes necessary. Should be made Inoffensively. Etiquette of the " Cut." The Salute. Its History. Different Modes of Salutation. Kissing, Shaking Hands. Various Ways of doing so. Walking and Driving with Ladies. Etiquette of Railway Travelling. CHAPTER X. In Private 336 The Visit. Proper Time and Occasions for Visiting. Introduction by Letters. Visits of Condolence and Congratulation. 18 CONTENTS. Hours for Visits 335 The Cards, Etiquette in Calling. " Not at Home." Visits in Good Society. Visits in Country Houses. CHAPTER XI. Dinners, Dinees, and Dinner-Paeties 34^ DINNEE parties. By whom and to whom given. Selection of Guests. Their Number. The Dining-Room. Its Furniture and Temperature. The Shape of the Table. Lighting. The Servants. The Russian Mode of Laying the Table. What to put on the Table. Soup. Wine and its Etiquettes. Fish. The Joint. Vegetables. The Order of Serving. CONl'ENTS, 19 Salad , 355 Grace. Dinner Etiquette. * Punctuality, &c. CHAPTER XII. liADiES AT Dinner SOC Invitations. Whom to Invite and "whom not. The Reception of Guests by the Lady. Order of Precedence. Of Proceeding to the Dining-Room. The Ladies Retire. The Ladies in the Drawing-Room. CHAPTER XIIL Balls 378 Their Place in Society. The Invitations. Whom to Invite. The Proper Number. The Requisites for a Good Ball. Arrangement of the Rooms. Jjighting. The Floor. The Musio. 20 CONTENTS. Refreshments 390 The Supper. Bail-Room Etiquette. Receiving the Guests. Introductions. The Invitation to Dance. Bail-Room Acquaintance. Going to Refreshments ■and Supper. Manners at Supper. Flirtation. Public Balls. CHAPTER XIV. Morning and Evening Pakties 397 "Making a Party." Town Parties (Receptions, Private Concerts, Amateur Theatricals, Tea-Party, Matinees). General Rules. Country Parties (Evening Parties, Outdoor- Parties, and Picnics). General Rules. CHAPTER XV. Marhiage '414 Offers. Engogementa. CONTEXTS.' 21 Marriage Contracts and Settlements 41t The License. The Trousseau. The Bridesmaids. Invitations. The Lady's Dress. The Gentleman's Dresa. Going to the Church. The Ceremony. * The Breakfast. Travelling Dress. Fees to Servants. Presents, &c. THOUGHTS ON SOCIETY, AND THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. A SERMON and a book of etiquette have beea taken as the antipodes of literature. Most erroneously ! The one is a necessary appendix to the other ; and the missionary of the South Sea Islands would tell you that it is useless to teach the savage religion without the addition of a few rules of courtesy. On manners, refinement, rules of good breeding, and even the forms of etiquette, we are for ever talking, judging our neighbors severely by the breach of traditionary and unwritten laws, and choosing our society and even our friends by the touchstone of courtesy. We are taught manners before religion ; our nurses and ou/ parents preach their lay sermons ujDon them long before they open for us the Bible and the Catechism ; our domi- nies flog into us Greek verbs and English behavior with the same cane ; and Eton and Oxford declare with pride, that however little they may teach their frequenters, ihey feS least turn them out gentlemen. Nay, we keep a granJ slate official, with a high salary, for no other purposes than to preserve the formal etiquette of the Court, and t€ issue from time to time a series of occasional services v (23^ £4 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. which the minutest laws of courtly behavior arc codified with Tjiajostic solemnitj. Yet with all this and much more deference which we show now to manners in general, now to the arbitrary laws jf etiquette which seem to have no object but exclusive- ncs3, we are always ready to raise a titter at the attcmj^ to reduce the former to a system, or codify the latter for the sake of convenience. The polished affect to despise the book of etiquette as unnecessary, forgetting that, in the present day, the circles of good society are growing ^ider and wider, admitting repeatedly and more than ever, men who have risen from the cottage or the workshop, and nave had neither their training nor their experience. *Vhat if railway kings and mushroom millionaires had itudied their grammars and manner-books in the respites d'om business, would the noble lords, who, with their wivea nd daughters, condescended, nay, were proud, to dine f tliis sort in disrepute: either manners themselves an. ontemptible, or they are not a subject wonhy of the consideration of the wise and great ; or the books of eti- quette themselves are ridiculous in their treatment of tho subject. The \alue of manners is to be the main theme of this mtroduction ; as regards their value as a subject, I can only point to those who have discoursed or written upon them, and I think it may be affirmed that few moral teachers have not touched on the kindred subject. Indeed the true spirit of good manners is so nearly allied to that of good morals, that it is scarcely possible to avoid doing 80. Our Saviour himself has taught us that modesty is the true spirit of decent behavior, and was not ashamec! to notice and rebuke the forward manners of his felloM guests in taking the upper seats at banquets, while he ha^i chosen the etiquettes of marriage as illustrations in seve- ral of his parables. Even in speaking of the scrupuloua habits of the Pharisees, he did not condemn their clyanli- ness itself, but the folly which attached so much value to mere form. He conformed himself to those habits, and ia the washing of feet at meals, drew a practical legson af beautiful humility. His greatest follower has left u many injunctions to gentleness and courteousness of man- fipr^ and fine passages on women'^ dress, which ehculd bfl painted over every lady's toilet" table in the kingdom. As to the philosophers, who are anything but men of food manners themselves, there are few who have aot 28 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. taught behavior more or less. To saj nothing of t'at ugl^ but a<^reea].»le old gentleman, Socrates, who ■weut nbout the city asking as many questions as a counsel foi the defenciety which is worth entering will soon and easily open its doora to him. and be glad to have him in its circle. Excl isive- ness is often a proof of innate vulgarity, and thC' testa applied by the exclusive are generally position, birth, name^ or peculiarity, rarely indeed individual merit. Wh.jrever these limitations are drawn, you may be confidor.t of a deficiency in the drawers. ]\Iy Lady A — , who will have no one under the rank of baronet at her house, can scarcely appreciate the Avide diffusion of wit and intelligence among the untitled. Mr. B — , Avho invites none but literal 7 raofi to his, must be incapable of enjoying the accomplisl ments and general knowledge of men of the world. And then, too it is so easy to b3 exclusive, if you are content to b« EXCLUSIVE SETS. 81 dull. Mj University tailor had a daughter, whose dowej he announced as ,£30,000, and he gave out that none but a gohJ -tassel should be allowed to cultivate her acquaintance. But the young noblemen never came, and the damsel pined for a couple of years. The father widened the bounds, and gfinilenian-commoners were admitted, but still the maiden »ras unwooed. In another three years the suffrage waa extended to all members of Christ Church. There may have been wooers now, but no winners. Five years more and the maiden still sat at her window unclaimed. For another five years the ninth part of a man held out reso- lutely, but by that time youth was gone, and the daughter BO long a prisoner was glad to accept the hand of an aspir- ing cheesemonger. But the tailor's vulgarity was no greater than that of all exclusive sets, who " draw the line" which preserves the purity of their magic circle, with a measure of rank, wealth, or position, rather than the higher recommendation!? of agreeable manners, social talents, and elevated character. The dullness of the coteries of the Faubourg St. Germain is equalled in this country only by that of certain sets tc be found in most watering-places. A decrepit old lady oi gentleman, long retired from fashionable and public life, is always to be found in these localities. Surrounded by a Bmall knot of worshippers, he or she is distinguished by a title, a faultless wig, and a great love of whist, and the playful sallies of " my loii'd'' and " my lady" are hailed ai "plendid wit, or their petulant tempers endured with affec- ionate submission. How much Christianity does a nook in the peerage encourage ! What a pity there is not a retired nobleman in every set of society, to j)ut our for- bearance to a perpetual ti'.'al, call forth our broadest 82 TUE SPlRir OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. chanty, and train us at the whist-table to lose our guineas and not our temper ! Exclusive society, -whether the passport for admittanct be of rank, birth, wealth, fashion, or even more meritoriom distinctions, is not often agreeable society, and not necos* Kirily good. The question at once arises : What is g^jod society? and we proceed to answer it, beginning vvitli an attempt to define society itself. AVhen the ex-King Ludwig of Bavaria stops, as we have §een him do, to exchange a hearty word with a crossing- sweeper, one of a class which the misnamed " First Ger- cleman of Europe," wliile returning punctiliously the marks of respect shown him by every man that he passed, thought it beneath the dignity of a monarch to notice, no one would think of impeaching the sovereign of a love of low society. If, again, a country gentleman chats with hia gamekeeper as they come from the fields together, he will. perhaps tell you that he has enjoyed the honest fellow's " society," but it will be in the tone of a joke. Not so nowever, the candidate for the borough, who begs the in- fluential harberdasher he is canvassing, to introduce him to his wife and daughters, whose society " he is most anxious to cultivate." He is quite aware that equality is the first essential of society, and that where it iocs not exist in reality, it must do so in appearance. Nor is mere equality of position sufficient. It seems to be a rule in the intercourse of men, that the employer ahould rank above the employed, and the transaction c busineso suspends equality for a time. There is no society between a gentleman and his solicitor or physician, in sm official visit, and though both hold the same rank, the pro- fessional man would never, unless further advances wer« WHAT IS SOCIETY? 81 Uiade, presume on the official acquaintance to consider him* self a member of his patient's or client's circle. Society is. therefore, the intercourse of persons on a footing of equality, real or apparent. But it is more tbiiS this. The two thoroughly English gentlemen Avho, truv illing for two hundred miles in the same railway carriage, ensconce themselves behind their newspapers or shilling novels, exchanging no more than a sentence when the oik treads upon the other's favorite bunion, cannot, in the wiiest sense of the phrase, be said to enjoy each other's Bociety. The intercourse must be both active and friendly. Man is a gregarious animal ; but while other animals herd together, for the purpose of mutual protection, or common undertakings, men appear to form the only kind who as- semble for that of mutual entertainment and improvement. But in society properly so called, this entertainment must address the higher part of man. Never was philosopher more justly put down for narrowness of mind than Plato was by Diogenes The polished Athenian had the rash ness to define man as a biped without feathers. The ill- fliannered but sensible philosopher of the tub plucked a cock and labelled it " Plato's Man." Man is not wholly man without his mind, and a game of cricket in which men assemble for mutual entertainment or improvement is not society, since it is the body not the mind which is brought nto action. Indeed we hear people talk of round games being so- ciable and it is certain that in most of those which ar( pbyed in a drawing-room, the mind is made to work as well as the fingers ; but while such games undoubtedly excite sociability with people too shy or too stupid to talk, »nd be at ease without their assistance, we must beware of 2* &4 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL 0BSERVANCK8. ooiifoun(Ln English history that she may bring in John •if Gaunt ''an ancestor of ours, you know." 2J^or if. gentility confined to a pretension to more wealth Vittr hiith, or greater state than we possess. The com- juoni'trt form of it, found unfortunately in all classes, is the pre^CJiS' jn to a higher position than we occupy. The Johu- Bons, r* tired haberdashers, cannot visit the Jacksons, re- tired b aen-drapers, but have moved heaven and earth for an int;oduction to the Jamesons, who are not retired from anythnig. The Jamesons receive the Johnsons, but stiffly annihilate them at once by talking of "our friends the Williamsons," who have a cousin in Parliament, and the Williamsons again are for ever dragging the said cousin into their conversation, that the Jamesons may be stupefied. We go higher; the M. P., though perhaps a Radical, will for ever be dogging the steps of the noble viscount opposite, end call the leader of his own party " that fellow so-and- so." The viscount is condescendingly gracious to the commoner, but defer-ential to the iuke, and the duko him- self will be as merry as old King Cole, if " the blood" fchould happen to notice him more than usual. Alas I poor worms, in what paltry shadows we can glory, and forget the end that lays us all in the common comfortless lap of mother earth ! Nothing therefore will more irretrievably stamp you as mlgar in ^-eally good society, than the repeated introduc- ion of tlie names of the nobility, or even of distinguishei jersonages in reference to yourself. It is absurd to sup- pose that you can reflect the lighf' of these greater orbs ; on the contrary, your mention of them naturally suggests a •omparison, such as one makes between the unpretending 8 60 THE SriRlT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. glorious sun, and the pale pitiable moon, "when she quita her proper sphere and forces herself into broad daylight W hen Scribbles of the Seal and Tape Office tells us he ^vas flirting last night with Lady Adelaide, when the Dukij of came up, and " shook hands with me, 'pon honor lie did," I am tempted to think Scribbles either a grosa exaggerator, or a grosser snob. When worthy INIra. Midge relates for the thirteenth time how she travelled down with " Her Grace," and I see how her eyes glow, and how vainly she attempts to appear indifferent to the honor (which it is to her), she only proves to me how small she must feel herself to be, to hope to gain bril- liance by such a slight contact. I feel fain to remind her of the Indian fable of a lump of crystal, which thought it would be mistaken for gold because it reflected the glit- ter of the neighboring metal. It was never taken for gold, but it was supposed to cover it, and got shivered to atoms by the hammer of the miner. But when this vulgarity is reduced to practice it be- comes actual meanness. The race of panders, parasites, ir " flunkies," as they are now called, is one which has f ourished through all time, and the satire of all ages haa been freely levelled at their servile truculency. But, in general, they have had a substantial object in view, and mean as he may be, a courtier who flattered for place or for money, is somehow less contemptible than the modem groveller who panders to the great from pure respect of their greatness, from pure want of self-respect. I am not one of those who deny position its rights ; and as long M caate is recognised in this country, I would have re- gpect shown from one of a lower to one of a higher eJass. Bat this respect for the position must not be blind : it HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSB. 51 should not extend to worship of the man. No rank, no wealth, no distinction, even if gained by merit, should close our eyes to actual un\Torthiness in its holder. We may bow to the nobility of my lord, but we are truculenl slaves if we call it nobleness. We may respect with dig- lity the accident of birth and wealth, but if the duke b« an acknowledged reprobate, or the millionaire a selfish grasper, we are inexcusable if we allow their accidental distinctions to blot out their glaring faults. What wo should hate in our friend, and punish in our servant, we must never overlook as a "weakness" in the Duke or Dives. It is not mere vulgarity, it is positive unchristi- anity, hopeless injustice. A less offensive but more ridiculous form of vulgar gentility, is that which displays itself in a pretension to superior refinement and sensibility. We have all had our laugh at the American ladies who talk of the " limbs " of their chairs and tables, ask for a slice from the " bosom " of a fowl, and speak of a rump-steak as a " seat-fixing," but in reality we are not far short of them, when we in ■ vent the most fiir-fetched terms for trousers, and ou- young ladies faint — or try to — at the mention of a petti coat, — Honi soit qui nial y pense ; and shame indeed t( the man, still more to the woman, whose mind is so im- pure, that the mere name of one common object immedi- ately suggests another which decency excludes from con- versation. It is indeed difficult to define in what indelicacy X)n8ists and where it begins, but it is clear that nature naa ntended some things to be hidden; and civilization, re- moving farther and farther from nature, yet net going against it, has added many more. In this respect, civili- Bation has become a second nature, and what it has ono« 62 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. concealed cannot be exposed without indelicacy. For ia stance, nothing is more beautiful than tho bosom cif a woman, and to a pure mind there is nothing shocking, but something touching indeed, in seeing a poor woman wh has no bread to give it, suckling her child in public. Stil civilization has covered the bosom, and the ladies whv wear their dresses oft' their shoulders are, in f/ie ptescn, day, guilty of an immodesty which was none in the days when Lely painted — on canvas, I mean — the beauties of Charles' court. But to go beyond the received opinion of the majority ;b super-refinement and \Tilgarity, and too often tempts us to fancy that an impure association has suggested the idea of impropriety. I cannot imagine what indelicate fancy those people must have who will not allow us to say "go to bed," but substitute " retire to rest." Surely the oouch where dewy sleep drowns our cares and refreshes our wearied forms ; where we dream those dreams which to some are the only bright spots of their lives ; where we escape for a time from the grinding of the worldly mill, from hunger, calumny, persecution, and dream maybe of heaven itself and future relief; — surely our pure simple beds are too sacred to be polluted with the impure con- structions 01 these vulgar prudes. Or, again, what more beautiful word than woman ? woman, man's ruin first, and gince then alternately his destroyer and savior ; woman, who consoles, raises, cherishes, refines us ; and yet I must forget that you are a woman, and only call you a lady. " Lady ' is a beautiful name, a high noble name, but it is fl?t dear and near to me like " woman." Yet if I speat of you as a woman, you leap up and tell me you will not stay to be insulted Poor silly little thing, I gave you GENTILITY IN LANGUAGE. 53 the name I loved best, and yoii, not I, conrected som» horrid idea with it ; is your mind or mine at fault ? Per- haps tlie most delightful instance of this indelicate delic*- cjf of terms was in the case of the elderly spinster — of whom I was told the other day — who kept poultry, bu always spoke of the cock as the "hen's companion." In short, it amounts to this. If it be indelicate to mention a thing, let it never be mentioned by ^ny name whatever ; if it be not indelicate to mention it^ it cannot be so to use its ordinary proper name. If legs are naughty, let us never speak of them ; if not naughty, why blush to call them legs ? The change of name can- not change the idea suggested by it. If legs be a naughty idea, tnen no recourse to " limbs" will save you. You have spoken of legs, though, under another name ; you thought of legs, you meant legs ; you suggested legs to me under that other name ; you are clearly an egregious sinner : you are like the French soldier, you will swear by the " sa/jrement," saving his wretched little conscience by the change of a single letter. That reminds me of a nautical friend who "cured" himself, he said, of the bad habit of swearing, by using, instead of oaths, the worda Rotter — , Amster — , Potz — , and Schie — , mentally re- serving the final syllable of these names of towns, &a, and fully convinced that he did well. That same habit of demi-swearing is another bit of pretension, which, if it cannot be called vulgarity, is cct tainly Pharisaical. The young lady would cut you- properly enough — for using an oath, will nevertkelea sry " bother" when her boot-lace breaks, or ^hat not. But "bother" is only the feminine form of ymiv Saxou expletive, and means in 7-ealUi/ just as much ^>o few 54 THE SPIRIT OP SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. your man who would cut his throat sooner than use a bad word, -will nevertheless write it " d — n," as if everyhody did not know Avhat two letters were left out. There il great hypocrisy about these things, But the worst vulgarity is an assumption of refinemen fa the choice of language. This is common among ser- Fan>ts in England, and in the lower orders in France and Germany, where . it is sometimes very amusing to hear fine words murdered and used in any but the right sense. Mrs. Malaprop saves me any trouble of going into details on this point, but I may observe that the best speakers will never use a Latin word where an Anglo-Saxon one will do as well; "buy" is better than "purchase," "wish" than "desire," and so on. The small genteel, you will observe, never speak of rich and poor, but of " those of large and those of small means." Another sim- ilar piece of flummery is the expression, * ' If anything should happen to me," which everybody knows you mean for, "if I should die." As you do not conceal your meaning, why not speak out bravely ? Besides in words, there is an over-refinement in habits Even cleanliness can be exaggerated, as in the case of the Pharisees, and the late Duke of Queensbury, who would wash in nothing but milk. Our own Queen uses distilled ^ater only for her toilet ; but this is not a case in point, since it is for the sake of health, I believe, with her. A end case, however, was that of the lovely Princess Alex andrina of Bavaria, who died mad from over-cleanlmesa It began by extreme scrupulousness. At dinner sh« would minutely examine her plate, and if she saw tht slightest speck on it, would send for another. She would then turn the napkin round and round to examine everj DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 55 eoinei, and often rise from table because she thought 8h« was not served properly in this respect. At last it be- came a monomania, till on plates, napkins, dishes, table- cloth, and everything else, she believed she saw nothing ! at masses of dirt. It weighed on her mind, poor thing ' l.'O could not be clean enough, and it drove her to in «5.nity. Anne of Austria could not lay her delicate limbs in any but cambric sheets, and there are many young gen- tlemen in England who look on you as a depraved barba- mn, if you do not wear silk stockings under your boots. Silver-spoonism is, after all, vulgarity ; it is an assump- tion of delicacy superior to the majority ; and so too, is prudery, which is only an assumption of superior mod- esty. In short, refinement must not war against nature, but go along with it, and the true gentleman can do anything that is not coarse or wrong. Fitzlow, who cannot lift hia own carpet-bag into his own cab; Startup, who cannot put a lump of coal on the fire; Miss Languish, who *' never touched a needle ;" and Miss Listless, who thinka it low to rake the beds in the garden, or tie up a head of roses, are not ladies and gentlemen, but vulgar people. It rather astonishes such persons to find that a nobleman can carry his bag, and stir his fire, and that a noble lady delights in gardening. But I shall risk the imputation of over-refinement my V.lf, if I say more on this point, and so I come to the iiird class of bad society in which the manners and hroeding are perfect, and tne morals bad, which is the mast dangerous class there is. Without agreeing at al) with the Chartist school in their views of the aristocracy t>6 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. I tbink it must be acknowledged that this class of 'Dhd BOcietjr is found mostly among the upper circles of soci- ety, uD 1 for the simple reason, that except among them vice 13 generally accompanied with bad manners. We" have historical proofs in any quantity of this class being aristocratic. The vice of courts is proverbial, but courtly manners are reckoned as the best.' All the beaux and half the wits on record have led bad lives. Chesterfield himself was a dissolute gambler, and repented bitterly in his old age of his past life, and it is he who says, that the best company is not necessarily the most moral, w^hich determines the value of his work on Etiquette. There is, however, something in the vice of this kind of society which at once makes it the most and least dangerous. All vice is here gilded ; it is made elegant and covered with a gloss of good-breeding. Men of family have to mix with ladies, and ladies of family have almost public reputations to keep up. All that is done is sub rosa. There are none of the grosser vices admitted in the pres- ent day. There is no drunkenness, little or no swearing, no coarseness. But there is enough of gambling still to ruin a young man, and the " social evil" here takes ita most elegant and most seductive form. While, therefore, on the one hand, you may mix in this kind of society, and see and therefore know very little of its immorality, its rices, when known to you, assume a fashionable pi-es- uje and a certain delicacy which seem to deprive then of their grossness and make them the more tempting Let us therefore call no society good, till we have sound- ed its morals as well as its manners ; and this brings ug to speak of what good society really is. "vVe cannot do this better than by looking first intc SOCIETY UNDER GOOD QUEEN BESS. 61 what is generally taken as good society. I shall, there- fore, glance over the state of society in different uges is tliis country, and in the present day on the Continent. The real civilization of England can scarcely he dated earlier than at the Reformation, and even than the tur- bulent state of the country, setting one man's knife against another, and leaving when bloodshed was shamed Lack, the same deadly hatred showing itself in open re- proaches and secret attacks, made social gatherings a iif- ficulty, if not an impossibility. Henry viii., indeed, had a somewhat jovial court, but the country itself was far too unsettled to join much in the merriment. In fact, up to the time of Charles i., there were but three kinds of so- ciety in England : the court, around which all the nobili- ty gathered, making London a Helicon of manners ; the small country gentry who could not come up to London : and the country people among whom manners were as yet as rude as among the serfs of Russia in the present day. In the court there had succeeded to real chivalry a kind of false principle of honor. A man who wore a sword was bound to use it. Quarrels were made rapidly, and rapidly patched up by reference to the code of honoi With the country gentry, the main feature was a rough hospitality. People spoke their minds in those days with- out reserve, and a courtier was looked on as a crafty man, whose words served to conceal rather than express hia thoughts. Among the people was a yet ruder revelry, and the morality was not of a high kind. The position of woman is that which has always given the key to civilization. The higher that position has been raised, the more influence has the gentleness which arises from her weakness been felt by the other sex. Id 3* 58 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. fact, the term "gentleman" only came in Mrhen woniea were admitted into society on a par with men. A " gen- tleman" was a man who could associate with ladies. And what was the respect exacted by and paid to woman be fere the time of Charles i., the dramatists of the Eliza bctban age tell us in every page. What must have bcei the education of the Virgin Queen herself, who was not thought very ill of for allowing Leicester to be her lady's- maid, and kiss her without asking leave, and who would have been thought a prude had she objected to the grosa tcenes in the masks and plays acted before her, and found o.^ten enough even in Shakspere. Not only were " things called by their right names," but an insidious innuendo took the place very often of better wit, and was probably enjoyed fir more. The country gentry lived in their moated houses at great distances from one another, and the country lady was rarely more than a good houscAvife, serving a rough hospitality to her guests ; while the gentlemen drank deep, swore pretty oaths, talked far from reservedly in her presence, and pleased her most with the broadest com- pliment to her fair form. The dignity of Charles introduced a rather more noble bearing among the men, and the Puritans did much to cleanse society of its gross familiarities ; but the position of women was still a very inferior one, and it was not till the beginning of the last century that they took a prorai nent place in society. There had gradually sprung Uj another class, which gave the tone to manners. Hitherto there had been in London only the Court-circles and the bourgeoisie. But as the lesser nobility grew richer and Oocked t are gentlemen, not picture-dealers. But this applies t» every topic. To have only one or two subjects to converst on, and to discourse rather than talk on them, is always ill-bred, whether the theme be literature or horse-flesh. The Newmarket lounger would probably denounce the former as "a bore," and call us pedants for dwelling on it ; but if, as is too often the case, he can give us nothing more general than a discussion of the "points" of a mare that perhaps we have never seen, he is as great a pedant in his way. Reason plays a less conspicuous part in good society, because its frequenters are too reasonable to be mere reasoners. A disputation is always dangerous to temper, and tedious to those who cannot feel as eager as the dis- putants ; a discussion, on the other hand, in which every- body has a chance of stating amicably and unobtrusively his or her opinion, must be of frequent occurrence. But to cultivate the reason, besides its high moral value, haa the advantage of enabling one to reply as well as attend to the opinions of others. Nothing is more tedious or dis- heartening than a perpetual '■ Yes, just so," and nothing more. Conversation must never be one-sided. Then, •gain, the reason enables us to support a fancy or opinion, when we are asked lohy we think so and gc. To reply, " 1 don't know, but "till I think so," is silly in a man and tedious m a woman. But there is a part of our edu- cation so important and so neglected in our schools and colleges, that it cannot be too highly impressed on parenti 68 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. on the one hand, and young people on the other. I mean that which wc learn first of all things, yet often have not learned fully Avhen Death eases us of the necessity — the irt of speaking our own language. What can Greek and Latin, French and German, be for us in our every- day life, if we have not acquired this ? We are often encour- aged to raise a laugh at Doctor Syntax and the tyranny of Grammar, but we may be certain that more misunder- standings, and therefore more difficulties, arise between men in the commonest intercourse from a want of gram matical precision, than from any other cause. It was once the fashion to neglect grammar, as it now is with certain people to write illegibly, and in the days of Goethe, a man thought himself a genius if he could spell badly. How much this simple knowledge is neglected in England, even among the upper classes, is shown by the results of the examinations for the army and the civil services ; how valuable it is, is now generally acknowledged by men of sound sense. Precision and accuracy must begin in the very outset ; and if we neglect them in grammar, we shall scarcely acquire them in expressing out thoughts. But since there is no society without interchange of thought, and since the best society is that in which the best thoughts are interchanged in the best and most comprehensible man- ner, it follows that a proper mode of expressing ourselves is indispensable to good society. There is one poor neglected letter, the subject of a poetical charade by Byron, which people in the present day have made the test of fitness for good society. For toy part, I would sooner associate with a man who dropped that eighth letter of our alphabet than with one who spoke bad grammar and expressed himself ill. But if he ha» LANGUAGE, 69 not learned to pronounce a letter properly, it is scauely prnbable that he will have studied the art of speech at ail, [t is amusing to hear the ingenious excuses made by people for this neglect. "Mrs. A — ," one person tella yc u, '* is a woman of excellent edacation. You must not be surprised at her dropping her h's, it is a Staffordshire b\bit, and she has lived all her life in that count}'." I &ncy that it is not Staffordshire or any other shire that can be saddled with the fault. It is simply a habit of ill- bred people everywhere throughout the three kingdoms. ^oi is the plea of dialect any real excuse. It is a pecu- liarity of Middlesex dialect to put a ?; for a ?/?, and a iv tor a V. Would any one on that account present Mr. Samivel Veller as a gentleman of good education, with a flight peculiarity of dialect in his speech ? Good society uses the same language everywhere, and dialects ought to be got rid of in those who would frequent it. The language of Burns may be very beautiful in poetry, and the bal- lads of Moore may gain much from a strong Irish brogue, but if we object to London slang in conversation, we have as much right to object to local peculiarities which make your speech either incomprehensible or ridiculous ; and certain it is that the persons whose strong nationality in- duces them to retain their Scotch or Irish idiom and accent, are always ready to protest against Americanisms, and would be very much bothered if a Yorkshire landowner were to introduce his local drawl into the drawing-room. Lccalisin is not patriotism and therefore until the UnioD *s dissolved, we must request people to talk English in Englinh society. The art of expressing one's thoughts neatly and suita- bly is one which, in the neglect of rhetoric as a study wi 70 THE sriRiT of social observances. must practice for ourselves. The commonest tl ought well put is more useful in a social point of view than the most brilliant idea jumbled out. What is well expressed is easily seized and therefore readily responded to ; tb most poetic fancy may be lost to the hearer if the lam guage which conveys it is obscure. Speech is the gifi" which distinguishes man from animals, and makes society possible. lie has but a poor appreciation of his high pri- vilege as a human being, who neglects to cultivate " God's great gift of speech." As I am not tvriting for men of genius, but for ordina- ry beings, I am right to state that an indispensable part of education is a knowledge of English literature. But how to read is, for society, more important than what we read. The man who takes up nothing but a newspaper, but reads it to think, to deduct conclusions from its pre- mises, and form a judgment on its opinions, is more fitted for society than he, who, having a large box regularly from Mudie's, and devoting his whole day to its contents, swallows it all without digestion. In fact, the mind must be treated like the body, and however great its appetite, it will soon flill into bad health, if it gorges but does not ruminate. At the same time an acquaintance with the best current literature is necessary to modern society, and it is not sufficient to have read a book without beino: able to pass a judgment on it. Conversation on literature i impossible, when your respondent can only say, " Yes, I like the book, but I really don't know why." Or what can we do with the young lady whose literary stock is as lim ited as that of the daughter of a late eminent member of Parliament, whom a friend of mine had once to take doTm to dinner ? LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 71 He Lad tried her on music and painting in \ain. She haci no ta^.te for either. Society was as barren a theme, for papa did not approve of anj but dinner parties. "Then I suppose jou read a great deal?" asked m fritiiid. " Oh, yes ! we read." " Light literature ?" " Oh, yes ' light literature." ''Novels, for instance?" ' Oh, yes ! novels." "Do you like Dickens?" " We don't read Dickens." " Oh ! I see you arc of Thackeray's party." " We never read Thackeray." " Then you are lomantic, and devoted to Bul^ei tr^^^n?" ** Never," replied the young lady, rather shocked. ■' Then >7hich is your favorite novelist?" ''James," she replied triumphantly. "Ah!" 6A,id my friend, reviving a little, "James v excitiflg." " Oh, yea ! we like his books so much ! Papa reads them aloud ii as, but then he misses out all the exciting parts." After that xij friend found his knife and fork better company than hiv neighbor. An acquaintance with old English literatvire is not pel- haps indispensable^ but it gives a man great advantage Hi all kinds of sociAly, and in some he is at constant loss without it. The same may be said of foreign literature, which in the present day is almost as much discussed aa our own ; but, on the other hand, an acquaintance with 72 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. home and foreign politics, with current history, ind ever^ subject of passing interest, is absolutely necessary ; and a person of sufficient intelligence to join in good society cun- uct dispense with his daily newspaper, his literary jour nal SLud the principal quarterly reviews and magazines The cheapness of every kind of literature, the facilitici of our well-stored circulating libraries, our public reading- rooma and numerous excellent lectures on every possible subject, leave no excuse to poor or rich for an ignorance f>f any of the topics discussed in intellectual society. You may forget your Latin, Greek, French, German, and Mathematics, but if you frequent good company you wil.' «iever be allowed to forget that you are a citizen of th( tvorld The respect for moral character is a distinguislung mark of good society in this country as compared with that of the Continent. No rank, no wealth, no celebrity will mduce a well-bred English lady to admit to her drawing- room a man or woman whose character is known to be bad. Society is a severe censor, pitiless and remorseless. The woman who has once fallen, the man who has once lost his honor, may repent for years ; good society shuts its doors on them once and for ever. Perhaps this is the jnly case in which the best society is antagonistic to Chris- tianity ; but, in extenuation, it must be remembered tha* there is no court in which to try those who sin against it Society itself is the court in which are judged those man^ offences which the law cannot reach, and this inclemency )f the world, this exile for life which it pronounces, must ce regarded as the only deterrent against certain sins. There is little or no means of punishing the seducer, the cheat) the habitual drunkard and gambler, and men and MORAL CHARACTER. 73 women whc ndulge in illicit pleasures except thia one verdict of perpetual expulsion pronounced ^ / g^od socic t y Often is it given without a fair trial, on the rejort of a slanderer ; often it falls upon the wrong head ; often it Droves its injustice in ignoring the vices of one and ful minating against those of another; often, by its implaci bility, drives the offender to despair, and makes the one false step lead to the ruin of a life : but it must be re* membered what interests society has to protect — the puri- fy of daughters, wives and sisters, the honor of sons ; it rtmst be allowed that its means of obtaining evidence is very slight; and that, on the other hand, it cannot insti- tute an inquisition into the conduct of all its members, .^ince the mere suspicion which such an inquiry would ex cite is su^lficient to ruin a character that might prove to tie innocent. Society, then, is forced to judge by common report, and though it may often judge wrongly, it gene- rally errs on the safe side. What it still wants, and must perhaps always want, is some check on the slander and calumny which misleads its judgment. We want some tribunal which, without blasting a reputation, can call to account the low sneak who lounges into a club-room, and actuated by pique, whispers into a frind's ear, " in strict- est confidence," some silly slur on a lady's character, knowing that it will pass from mouth to mouth, growing bigger and bigger, and that it can never be traced back U\ the original utterer. We want to put down those olJ nAids and dowagers who shake their cork-screw ringlcls •t the mention of a name, and look as if they knew a great deal which they would not tell. We want gossip and scandal to be held a sin, as it is already held bad taste, and a higher tone which shall reject as inventions 4 74 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL ODSERVANCES, the pot-house stories of grooms and lacqueys, aid receiye with greater caution the gossip of the club-room. no\T iiiiir.y a fair fame of a virtuous girl is ruined by tlie mar. ^lie has rejested ; how many an lago lives and thrives '.n ■i'joicty to the present day ; how many a young man is blackened by a rival ; how many a man we meet in tlie best circles whose chambers are the scene of debauchery, or who carries on an illicit connexion in secret, unexposed. These things make us bitter to the world, but, if we can- not see the remedy, we must endure them silently. Oh ! if the calumniator, male or female, could be hanged aa high as Haman, if the ninth commandment, like the eighth, could be punished with death, many a hopeful ca- reer were not blighted at its outset, many an innocent woman were not driven from her home and thrust into the very jaws of sin, and the world would be happier and far more Christian. In the meantime good society discountenances gossip, and that is all it can do for the present. Fathers and husbands must be careful whom they introduce to their families, and every one should beware how they rejieat what has been told them of their neighbors. There is in the church of Walton-on-Thames a kind of iron gag made to fit upon the face, and bearing this inscription : •' Thys is a brydel lor the women of Walton who speake so ydel.' I know not what poor creature, blasted by a venomoua tongue, invented and gave to the church this quaint relitj ; 1 only wish that every parish church had one, and that every slanderer might be forced to wear it. One ! did I say ? we should want a hundred in some parishes, all in use at the sain;^ time- TEMPER. 7^ A discourteous but well-merited reply which 1 heard the other day, reminds me that good tdmper is an essen- tial of good society. A young lady, irritated because a gentleman would not agree with her on some matter. \{^i icr balance, and irritably exclaimed, '' Oh, Mr. A—; yoa nave only two ideas in your head." " You are right," replied the gentleman, " I have only two ideas, and (A'i of them is that you do not know how to behave yourself/' Temper has a great deal to answer for, and it would take a volume to discuss its effect on the affairs of tho ■world. It is a vice of old and young of both sexes, oi high and low, even I may say of good and bad, though a person who has not conquered it scarcely merits the name of good, though he should regenerate mankind. Mon- archs have lost kingdoms, maidens lovers, and everybody friends, by the irritation of a moment, and in society a display of ill-temper is fatal to harmony, and thus de- stroys the first principle of social meetings. We pardon it, we overlook it, and sometimes it even amuses us, but, sooner or later, it must chill back love and freeze friend- ship. In short, it makes society unbearable, and is justly pronounced to be disgustingly vulgar. I used once to frequent the house of a man who had every requisite for being charming but that of a command of temper. He gave dinner-parties which ought to have been most pleas- ant. He was well-educated, well-informed, well-mannered in every other respect. The first time I dined with hira before I had seen anything of this failing, I was lurror ttruck by hearing him say to a servant, " Confound you, will you take that dish to the other end ! " Of course I Daid no attention, but hoping to cover him, talked loudly and eagerly. It was useless. The servant blundered 76 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. and tlie master thundered, till at last there was a dead silence round the table, and we all looked down into our plates. The mistress of the house made the matter worsi by putting in at last, " My dear Charles, do be mode- rate," and the irritable man only increased the awkward nes3 by an irritable reply. I overlooked this, and dinet- there again, but only once. This time it was his daugh ter who offended by some innocent remark. " Really you're quite a fool, Jane," he said, turning savagely upon her, and the poor girl burst into tears. Our appetites were spoiled, our indignation rose, and though we sat through the dinner, we all of us probably repeated Solomon' a proverb about a dry morsel where love is, and a stalled ox with contention thereby, which I, for one, interpreted to mean that my chop and pint of ale at home would, for the future, be far more appetitUch than my friend's tur- tle and turbot. As there is nothing to which an Englishman clings so tenaciously as his opinions, there are few things which rouse the temper so rapidly as an argument. In good society all disputation is eschewed, and particularly that which involves party politics and sectarian religion. It ii at least wise to discover what are the views of your com- pany before you venture on these subjects. Zeal, ho>v- ever well-meant, must, as St. Paul warns us, often be sacrificed to peace ; and where you cannot agree, an 1 feel that to reply would lead you into an argument, it i<^ best to be silent. At the same time there are some oo casions where silence is servih' No man should sit stil to hear sacred things blasphemed, or his friend abused. The gentleman must yield to the Man where an atheist reviles Christianity, a Chartist abuses the Queen, or anj' TEMPER. 77 body speaks ill of the listener's friend or relaticn. Even then he best marks his indignation by rising and leaving the room. Nor need any man fear the imputatiim of cowardice, if he curbs his anger at direct abuse of him- 6^ If. "A soft answer turneth away wrath;" and if ho cannot check his own feelings sufficiently to reply in onciliatory tone, no one can blame him if cooly and/?©- lilely he expresses to his antagonist his opinion of hia bad manners. The feeling of the company will always go with the man Avho keeps his temper, for not only does society feel that to vent wrath is a breach of its laws, but it knows, that to conquer one's-self is a far more difficult task than to overcome an enemy ; and that, therefore, the man who keeps his temper is really strong and trulj courageous. In fact the Christian rule is here (as it should always be) that of society ; and the man who of- fers his left cheek to the blow, displays not only the rarest Christian virtue, but the very finest politeness, which, while it teems with delicate irony, at once disarms* the attacker, and enlists the pity and sympathy, if not the applause, of the bystanders. Of course I speak of dIows metaphorically. A blow with the hand is rarely il ver given in good society. Another case in which the Christian and the social rule coincide, if not in reality at least in appearance, ia tJia* .>f private animosities. Of the "cut," as a neces- sury social weapon, I shall speak elsewhere, but t aow Buffii'es to say, that when given for the first time with a view to breaking off an acquaintance, it should not be done conspicuously, nor before a number of people. Ita object is not to wound and cause confusion, but to make known to the person "cut" that your feelings towards 78 TUE SPIRIT OF sc:jial obslrvances. him are changed. In good society no one ever yuts ano« ther in such a manner as to be generally remarked, anJ the reason is obvious : It causes awkwardness aiil coiifu sion in the rest of the company. It is worse, Betwesij a guest and host the relation is supposed to be friendly if not so, it can always be immediately discontinued : sa that generally the ill will must be between one guest and another undei the same roof. But what does it then amount to? Is it not a slur upon your host's judgment? Is it not as much as to say, " This man is unfit for m«» to know ; and. since you are his friend, you must be un- worthy of me too?" At any rate, it is mortifying to a host to find that he has brought two enemies together, and, with the respect due from a guest to a host you must abstain from making his house a field of battle. There is no occasion for hypocrisy. Politeness, cold and distant -f you like it, can cost you nothing, and is never taken to mean friendship. In short, harmony and peace are the rules of good society, as of Christianity, and its denizen'" can and do throw aside the most bitter enmities when meeting on the neutral ground of a friend's house. Nor is the armistice without its value. Like that betweeb Austria and France, it is not unfrequently followed by overtures of peace ; and I have known two people who had not interchanged two words for a score of years shake hands before they left a house where they had beeo accidentally brought together. Had they not been well bied this reconciliation could never have taken place. The relations of guest to guest are not so well under Btood in this country as on the Continent. There your host's friends are for the time yo2ir friends. When you ftnter a room you have a right to speak to and be ad HOSPITALITY. 1 9 dressed by, everybjdj present. The friendship cf yiiur host, declared, as it were, in his inviting them there, is a EufRcient recommendation and introduction to every ono of his guests. If you and they are good enough for hint, to invite, you and they are good enough for each other to ki-iow, and it is, therefore, an insult to your host to ro main next to a person for a long time without addressing him. In exclusive England we require that our host or bjstess shall give a special introduction to every guest, but m the best society this is not absolutely necessary. Ex- clusiveness is voted to be of bad style ; and two people who sat next to one another for a long time, with no one to talk to, would be thought ill-bred as well as ridiculous if they waited for the formal introduction to exchange a few words, at least at a party where conversation was the main object. As we boast of English hospitality, it is a wonder that we do not better observe the relations of host and guest On the Continent any man, whether you know him or not. who has crossed your threshold with friendly intent, ha your guest, and you are bound to treat him as one. Il England a friend must introduce him, unless he has the ingenuity' of Theodore Hook, who always introduced him- self where there was a dinner going on, and managed to make himself welcome, too; but among ill-bred peopli oven this introduction does not suffice, and the vulgar O^n take pride to themselves in proving that their house '. ^ their castles. A late neighbor of mine, of somewha ft^pery temper, used to tell with glee how he had turn^ OTi of his house a gentleman — an innocent but n?t attraO< tire man - who had been brought there by a common friend, but whom he did not wish lo know. I often tiiought 80 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. when I lieanl tlie tale repeated, " ITow little you thinl you are telling a story against yourself!" So, too, whei Arabella, speaking of Charles, with whom she has T^uar rell'jd tells me so proudly, I cut him last iiight dead ind before the whole party, to his utter confusion," I wiiicipcr to myself, " He may richly have deserved the punishment, but I would not have been the executioner." In fact, whether as host or guest, we must remember the feelings of the rest of the company, and that a show oJ animosity between any of them always mars the sense oi peaceful enjoyment, for which all have met. To pick j juarrel, to turn your back on a person, to cut him openly or to make audible remarks on him, are displays of tern per only found in vulgar society. The other requisites indispensable for good society wil be found in various chapters of this work. Confidence calm, and good habits, are treated in the chapter on car- riage. Good manners is, more or less, the subject of the whole book, and appropriate dress, another indispensable, is discussed under that head. Accomplishments, on which I have given a chapter, are not generally considered in- Jispensable, and certainly a man or woman of good educa- tion ar.d good breeding could pass muster without them But they lend a great charm to society, and in some casea are a very great assistance to it. Indeed, there are some Accomplishments an ignorance of which may prove ex- tremely awkward. Perhaps, however, the most valuable accomplishment or rather art, especially in persons of full age, is that of making society easy, and of entertain- ing. Ill lea and hints for this will be given in various lections, but 1 may here say that it is an art which de- mands no little labor and ingenuity, and if anybo*!^ TO DINNER-GIVERS. 8i unsigines that +he offices of host and hostess are sinecures, he is greatlj mistaken. The great principle is that of movement. According t3 the atomic theory, warmth and brilliance are gained by the rapidity of the atoms al-ou one another. We are only atoms in society after all, an we certainly get both warmth and brilliance when we re Folve round each other in the ball-room. But it is rathei mental movement that I refer to just now, although tlio other is by no means unimportant, and the host and hostess should, when possible, be continually shifting their places, easily and gracefully, talking to everybody more or less, and inducing others to move. But tliere must be some thing for the minds of those assembled to dwell upon something to suggest thought, and thus generate conversa- tion. If the host or hostess have themselves the talent, they should do this by continually leading the conversation, not after the manner of Sydney Smith, who. while dinner was going on, allowed Mackintosh, Jeffrey, and Stewart, to fall into vehement discussion, while he himself quietly made an excellent meal, and prepared for better things. The moment the cloth was removed, which 2vas done ii those days, the jovial wit, happier than his companions who had had more of the "feast of reason and the flow af soul" than of beef and mutton, would look up and make some totally irrelevant and irresistible remark, and having once raised the laugh, would keep an easy lead of tlie conversation to the end. But if they have not this art, it is highly desirable, that dinner-givers should invite tL.eir regular talker, who, like the Roman parasite, n con- ijideration of a good dinner, will always be rea-dy witii a freah topic in case of a lull ri the conversatioa wid always be able to .ntroduce it with something smart and lively 82 THE SPIRIT OF SOCl iL CBSERVAN0E8. There is a hotel in the city where a certain number )l oroken-down ecclesiastics are always "on hand" with a couple of sermons in pocket. If a clergyman is called suddenly out of town, or taken ill on the Saturday night or hindered from preaching by any accident, he has only u Bend down a messenger and a reverend gentleman flies t« him : the sermon is at his service for the sum of o»iie guinea, or less. Would it not answer to institute a siuilai establishment for the benefit of dinner-givers ? The only question the cleric asks is, "High or low?" He has a Bcrmon in each pocket, " high" in the right, " low" in the h)ft, and produces the proper article, if he does not by mistake forget which is in which, and astound an evangel- 'Cal congregation with the " symbols of the Church," or a Tractarian one with the "doctrine of election." In the same way. the conviva would be always ready, in full dress, at six in the evening, and having put the question, " Serious or gay, Whig or Tory ?" bring out his witticisms accordingly. We do everything now-a-days with money. Mr. Harker gives out our toasts, our servants carve and give out the wine for us. The host sits at the head or side of his table, and only smiles and talks The next gene- ration will make a further improvement, and the host will hire a gentleman to do even the smiling and talking, or, like the Emperor Augustus, he will just look in on hia guests at the middle of dinner, ask if the entremela are good, and go to his easy-chair again in the libiary Of the art of entertaining on various occasions I shal a'cat under the proper heads, and we come now to the dia- pensables of good society, which i take to be wealth, rank birth and talent. Of birth there is little to say, because, if a man is fil MERE ■WEALTH. 8S for good societj, it can make very little difference whether his father were a chimney-sweep or a chancellor, at least to sensible people. Indeed, to insist on good birth in Eng- lar)d would not only shut you out from enjoying the societj [ f people of no ordinary stamp, but is now generally con •idsred as a cowardly way of asserting your superiority A young lady said to me the other day, " I wonder yoa can visit the C.'s ; their mother was a cook." " Well," said I, " it is evident she did not bring them up in the kilchen." My interlocutrix wore the name of a celebrated poet, and was of one of the oldest families in England, but I confess that I thought her remark that of a snob, the more so as the C.'s happened to be the most agreeable people I knew. The advantages of wealth are considerable in the for- mation of society. In this country, where hospitality means eating and drinking, it demands money to receive your friends ; and in London, where a lady can with dif- ficulty walk in the streets unaccompanied, a carriage of Bome sort, in wliich to visit them, becomes almost a neces- sity if you are to mix much in the world. But good society would be very limited if every man required hi Irougham or cabriolet. In the metropolis, again, a man I ervant is almost indispensable, though not quite ; and if you have tlie moral courage to do without one you will (ind that your small dinners — always better than large .>Tje8 — will be more quietly served by women than by men, '/ondoners have still to learn that large pompous " feel Qgs'"' are neither agreeable nor in good taste, and that evening meetings, for the purpose of conversation, with ag little ceremony as possible, are far ie?s tedious less bilious, and less expeijsive. 84 THE SPIrllT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. Tliey do these things better in Paris, where the iiniief^ pnrty is an introduction of the noKveaux 7'ichcs. TheM the £300 .> year does not exclude its owners from the en- joyment of vhe best, even the higliest society. They maj bo asked to every ball and dinner of the season, and are not expected to return them. A voiture de re/nise is good enough to take them even to the Tuileries. Tiie size of their apartment is no obstacle to their assembling their friends simply for tea and conversation. If the rooiua are elegantly furnished and arranged, and the lady of the house understands the art of receiving, and selects her guests rather for their manners and conversational powers than for position or Avealth, their reception may become fashionable at no further expense than that of a few simple refreshments which are handed about. Even dances are given without suppers, and no one cares whether youi household consists of a dozen lacqueys or a couple of maid- servants. " Mere wealth," says Mr. Hay ward, truly enough, " can do little, unless it be of magnitude sufficient to confjtitute celebrity." He might have added, that wealth, without breeding, generally draws the attention of others to the want of taste of its possessor, and gives envy an object to sneer at. I remember an instance of this in a woman who had recently, with her husband, returned from Australia, with a large fortune. I met her at a ball in Paris : she waa magnificently, almost regally dressed, and as she swept through the rooms people whispered, " That is the rich Mrs. ." I had not been introduced to her. and had no tlesire to be so, but I could not escape her vulgarity. On going to fetch a cup of chocolate from the buffet for my part- ner, 1 had to pas« within a yard of Mrs. , who was RANK 83 gorging ices amid a crowd of rather inferior Ficnchmon, there was not the slightest fear of my spilling the chocolate, and I was too far from her to spoil her dress, had I bc«n awkward enough to do so ; but as I passed back, she sud* JenI J screamed out. in verj bad French, " Monsieur, IMon- sieur quoi, faites-vous, vous g'.terj mon robe !" Of cours* everybody looked round. I bowed low, and begged hei pardon, assuring her that there was not the slightest cause for alarm ; but she was not satisfied, and while I beat a retreat I heard her loud voice denouncing me as a •' stupid fellow," and so forth, and I soon found that Mrs. was pronounced to be " atrociously vulgar" as well as immensely rich. I cannot think that rank is a recommendation to a man with any but vulgar people. Not every nobleman is a gentleman, and fewer still perhaps bear that character that would entitle them to a free entrle among the well-bred. On the other hand, rank is a costly robe, which must be worn as modestly as possible, not to spoil that feeling of equality which is necessary to the ease of society. Some deference must be paid to it, and the man of rank who cannot forget it, will find himself as much in the way in a party of untitled people, as an elephant among a troop of jackals. If titles were as common in England as on the Continent, there would be less fear of a host devoting himself to My Lord to the neglect of his other guests, or of those guests centering their attention on the one star In PariSj it is only in the vulgar circles of the Chauss''e d'Autin, that "Monsieur le Comte," or "Monsieur le Marquis," is shown off as a lion ; and in the well-brm! circles in this country, the nobleman must be content with j;>rec©dence, and the place of honor, and for the rest be at 86 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. one of the company. In Southern Germany, the distirjo- tion is the other way ; the simple Hcrr is almost as re- markable as the man of title in England. In fact, every- body admitted to what is there called good society, has some title, whether by birth or office ; and a man must be highly distinguished by talents or achievements to have the entree of the Court. I found that the Esquire after my name was generally translated by Baron ; the trales- men raised it to Graf, or Count; and the people who " knew all about it," called me " Herr Esquire von ." Something in the same way are military titles allotted to civilians in some parts of America. A store-keeper be- comes "Major;" a merchant, " Colonel;" and a man of w^hom you are to ask a favor, is always a " General." Nothing can be more ill-judged than lion-hunting. If the premise with which I set out, that society requires real or apparent equality, be true, anything which raisea a person on a pedestal unfits him for society. The men of genius are rarely gifted with social qualities, and the only society suited to them is that of others of the same calibre. If Shakspere were alive, and I acquainted with him, I would not ask him to an evening party ; or, if I did so, it should be with huge Ben, and half-a-dozen more from the '• Mermaid," and they should have strict injunc- tions not to engross the conversation. If you must have a literary lion at your receptions, you should manage to have two or three, for you may be sure that they will be- have less arrogantly in one another's presence; or per- kaps a better plan still, is to invite a score of critics to meet him ; you will then find your show beast as tracta- ble ana as quiet as his name-sake in the caresses of Van Amburg or Wombwell. The man of science again, has RANK AND DISTIXCIIOX. 87 toe lofty a range of thought to descend to the ordinary topics of society ; and the bishop and distinguished gene- ral usually bear about with them the marks of their p)i> fession, which, for perfect ease and equality, slu)uld !x3 concealed. Distinguished foreigners, if they are clean, and can talk English well, may be very agreeable, buk your guests will often suspect them, and their names must be known in England to make them desirable in any point of view. Of rank and distinction, however, it may be said, m preference to wealth and mere birth, that they are, wher seconded by character, absolute passports to good society. A title is presumed to be a certificate of education and good breeding, while a celebrity will often be pardoned for the want of both, in virtue of the talents and perseverance by which he has raised himself. Of the two, the latter ixcuses more our adulation. Rank is rarely gained by QQerit, and when it is so, it is swamped by it. Macaulay ind Brougham have not gained a single step in the esti- mation of well-bred people by being raised to the peerage, and no one would hesitate for a moment between thera and the untitled son of a Duke or Marquis. While, too^ we naturally fear the epithet of " toady," if we cultivate noblemen only for the sake of their rank, /ve may well defend ourselves for the admiration which genius, perse- verance, and courage excite. To women, again, distinc- tion is less trying, since it takes them less out of their ordinary sphere. They are still women, still capable of enjoymg society, with two exceptions, the blue-stocking and the esprit fort, neither of which should evei- be ad- Oiitted into good society. But while genius is scarcely a recommendation in sociiJ 88 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCRS. mcctiiigs, there are mental qualities nearly allied to il which are the best wc can brino; to them : I mean a thii k- ing mind and a ready wit. The most agreeable men and women are those "who think out of society as Avell as in it Lose who have mind without affectation, and talents with- ou: conceit ; those who have formed, and can form fresU opinions on every subject, and to whom a mere word serves as the springing-board from -srhich to rise to new trains of thought. "Where people of this kind meet together, the commonest subjects become matters of interest, and the conversation grows rapidly to brilliance, even without pos itive wit. The man to whose mind everything is a sug- gestion, and whose words suggest something to everybody, is the best man for a social meetmg. We have now seen what are, and what are not the re- quisites for good society. High moral character, a polished education, a perfect command of temper, good breeding, delicate feeling, good manners, good habits, and a good bearing, are indispensable. Wit, accomplishments, and social talents are great advantages, though not absolutely necessary. On the other hand, birth is lost sight of, while wealth, rank, and distinction, so far from being desirable, must be carefully handled, not to be positively objection- able. We are now therefore enabled to offer a definition of good society. It is, the meeting on a footing cf equal- ity, and for the purpose of mutual entertainment, of men, of women, or men and women together, of goal rharacter, gotid education, and good breeding. But what is the real spirit of the observances whicb this society requires of its frequenters for the preserva tion of harmony and the easy intercourse of all of thorn ? Certainly, one may have a spotless reputation, a goo*il ed DEFINITION OF GOOD SOCIETY. 8t acatioii. and good breeding, w.thout being either good it reality, or a Christian. But if we examine the laws which good society lays down for our guidance and governanco, we shall find without a doubt, that they are those which s eiiJiple Christian, desiring to regulate the meetings of a number of people who lacked the Christian feeling, wiuld dictate. I am, of course, quite aware that good society will never make you a Christian. You may be charming in a party, and ever}- one may pronounce you a perfect and agreeable gentleman ; but you may go home and get pri- vately intoxicated, or beat your wife, or be cruel to your children. If society finds you out, be sure it will punish you; but society has no right to search your house, and intrude upon your hearth, and, as you say, it may be long before it finds you out. But, as far as ifs jurisdiction extends, good society can compel you, if not to be a Christian, at least to act like one. The difference between the laws of God and the laws of men, is, that the former address the heart from which the acts proceed, the latter, which can only judge from what they see, determine the acts without regard to the heart. The one waters the root, the other the branches. The laws of society are framed by the unanimous con- sent of men, and, in all essential points, they differ very little all over the world. The Turk may show his po- liteness by feeding you with his fingers, the Englishman by carving your portion for you ; but the same spirit dic- tates bcth — the spirit of friendliness, of goodwill. Thus, though the laws of society are necessixrily imperfect, are moulded by traditional and local custom, and are address ed to the outer rather than the inner man, their spirit . invariably the same. The considerations which dictats 90 TIIF SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. tiiein are reducible to the same law, Aiid this law jroyea to be the fundamental one of Christian doctrine. Thus, what the heathen" arrives at only by laws fraracii for tho comfurt of society, we possess at once in virtue of :>ur re ligion. And it is a great glory for a Christian, to be abl to say, that all refinement and all civilization lead men— aa far as their conversation is concerned — to th< practice of Christianity. It is a great satisfaction tc feel that Christianity is eminently the religion of civil: ,/dtio" and society. The great law which distinguishes Christ' anity from every other creed, that of brotherly love and self-denial is essentially the law which we find at the basis of all so- cial observances. The first maxim of politeness is to be agreeable to everybody, even at the expense of one's own comfort. Meekness is the most beauciful virtue of the Christian ; modesty the most commendable in a well-bred man. Peace is the object of Christian laws ; harmony that of social observances. Self-denial is the exercise of the Christian ; forgetfulness of self that of the well-bred. Trust in one another unites Christian communities : con- fidence in the good intentions of our neighbors is that which makes society possible. To be kind to one another is the object of Christian converse ; to entertain one another, that of social intercourse. Pride, selfishness, ill-temper^ are alike opposed to Christianity and good- breeding. The one demands an upright life ; the otlior reijuires the appearance of it. The one bids us make the most of God's gifts and improve our talents ; the other will not admit us till we have done so by education. And to go a step firther; as a Christian community exc^udea sinners and unbelievers from its gatherings, so a dociaj CHRISTIANITY AND SOCIETY. 9] •onimunity excludes from its laeetings those of ba tlie box of my friend's drag ! Adieu the fragrant weed the cracking hunting-whip, the merry bachelor -dinnei , aiid the late hours ! Shall I sigh over them ? No, in- deed ! Mrs. Jones is not only an ample compensation foi such gaieties, but I am thankful to her for keeping me from them. Why, that little baby-face of hers, that pouts BO prettily for a kiss when I come home, is worth a hun dred dozens of champagnes, a thousand boxes of Hudson's best, and a score of the longest runs after reynard we ever had." Yes, Benedict I envy thee, and if Beatrice he wise, she will ti'.t draw the reins too tight all at once; THE BACHELOR 99 ami whatever she may say to hunting, she will sc-o no harm in a mild havana and a couple of bachelor frienda to dinner now and then. But Benedict has not only changed his manner and his habits, he has got new duties, nd where his wife goes he may go. and ought to go le can no longer claim exemption from solemn dinners S-om weary muffin-worries, and witless tea-parties. On the other hand, he will never be made use of, and his wife will furnish a ready excuse for refusing invitations which he had better not accept. Lastly, the young mar- ried man should never assume the gravity of Paterfamilias and though he is promoted above Coelebs, he will take care not to snub him. What a happy man is Coelebs ! The more I sit in my club-window the more I feel convinced of this. It is true that I have never been married, and therefore know nothing of the alternative, but will make you a little confession, priestly reader — I have been once or twice very riear it. Free from incumbrance, Coelebs is a;3 irresponsible as a butterfly ; he can choose his own society, go anywhere, do anything, be early or late, gay or retired, mingle with men or with ladies, smoke or not, wear a beard or cut it off, and, if he likes, part his hair down m the middle. What a happy man is Coelebs ! free and independent as he is, he is as much courted as a voter at an election ; he ia for ever being bribed by mammas and feasted by papag ; nothing is complete without him ; he is the wit at the din- ner, the " life" of the tea-fight, an absolute necessity in the ball-room, a si7ie qua non at f te and pic nic, and wel- come everywhere. Indeed, I don't know what society caii do without him. The men want hrm for their parties, the ladies, I suppose I must not say, " still more" for theirs f 100 THE SPIRIT or social cbservances. The old like him because he is young, the young like liia becaude he is not old ; and in short he is as much i neoe»- Bity as the refreshments, and must be procured somehow or other. Then, too, if he does not care for these thing? be can come and sit here in the club-window ; or he caa travel, which Benedict seldom can ; or he can take an oc- cujxition or an art, while the married man has no choice, wid must work, if he woi'k at all, to keep quiet the mouths of those blessed cherubim in the perambulator. But that wliich makes Coelebs a happy man is, that he lan enjoy society so much. If it be the bachelor-party, he is not there against his conscience with fear of a Cau- dle lecture to spoil his digestion. If it is among ladies, he ha& the spice of galanterie to curry his conversation with, and as for dancing, he at least enjoys it as an intro- duction to flirtation. But perhaps his greatest privilege is the power of falling in love, for as long as that power lasts — which, heigh-ho ! is not for ever — there is no inno- cent pleasure which is greater. But Coelebs has not always the privilege of falling out of love again, and if the married man has a wife to look after his doings, the bachelor is watched by chaperons, and suspected by papas Poor Coelebs. do not leave the matter too late ; do not say, '' Hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me," if ever I lose my heart. Believe me, boy, the passion must be enjoyed when young. When you come to my age, Cupid won't waste an arrow on you, and if he did so, it would uDly make you ridiculous. Yes, the young bachelor is a happy man, but tlie old bachelor- -let me stop, if I once begin on that theme, I shall waste three quires of paper, iDd tire yoa out But if much is allowed to Cosleba THE YOUNG LADY. 101 much IS expected of him. He has not tive STibstancr- of Benedict to back him up, not the respectability of weiLled life, not the charms of his young wife to make amends for Lis deficiencies. The young bachelor is more than ar» ■* man a subject for the laws of etiquette. Less than au will he be pardoned for neglecting them. He has no ex cuse to ofier for their non-observance. He must make himself useful and agreeable, must have accomplishments for the former, and talents for the latter, and is expected to show attention and respect to both sexes and all ages. Happier still is the young lady, for whom so many al- lowances are made, and who, in society, is supposed to do nothing wrong. To her the ball is a real delight^ and the evening party much more amusing than to any one else. On the other hand, she must not frequent dinner-parties too much, particularly if she is very young, and in all cases she must consider modesty the prettiest ornament 8he can wear. She has many privileges, but must beware how she takes advantage of them. To the old her manner must always be respectful and even affectionate. If she lacks beauty, she will not succeed without conversational pow- ers ; and if she has beauty, she will soon find that wit ia a powerful rival. With the two she may do what sho will ; all men are he.' slaves. She must, however, have a smile as well, for every person and every occasion. Dignity she seldom needs, except to repel familiarity. Without a good heart her mind and her face will onl^y draw envy and even dislike upon her. In England, tho young lady is queen ; in France, the young married woman takes her place ; and though society can do without her, there is, in my opinion, no more charming companion tliaa 102 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. B yc^ung married •woman. She has left off nonsense, and forp;ottGn flirtation, and she has gained from tlie comjan* ionship of her husband a certain strength of mind, which tempered by her modest dignity, enables her to broach almost any subject with a man. She is at home every "where, may dance in the ball-room, and talk at the dinnei table, and the respect due to her position enables her to be more free in ner intercourse without fear of remark, In short, if a man wishes for sensible conversation, with gentleness and beauty to lend it a charm, he must look for it in young married women. Of the elderly unmarried lady — for of course there is no such thing as an " old maid" — I decline, from a feeling of delicacy, to say anything. I shall conclude this jmce de resistance with a few part- ing remarks on the art of making one's self agreeable. I take it that the first thing necessary is to be in goo:? spirits, or at least in the humor for society. If you have any grief or care to oppress you, and have not the strength of will to throw it off, you do yourself an injustice by enter- ing the society of those who meet for mutual entertain- ment. Nay, you do them too a wrong, for you risk be- coming what is commonly known as a "damper." Tiie next point is to remember that the mutual entertainment in society is obtained by conversation. Tor this yon re- «juire temper, of which I have already spoken ; confidence, of which I shall speak elsewhere ; and appropriateness, ^hich has been treated under the head of "Conversaticn." 1 have already said, that that man is the most agreeable to talk to,, who thinks out of society as well as in it. It will be necessary to throw off all the marks and feeling? THE ART OF MAKING ONE*S-SELF AGKEBABLE, lOt of your profession and occupation, and surround youi-self^ BO to speak, with a purely social atmosphere. You must Ecmember that society requires equality, real or apparent and that all professional or official peculiarities militate iir;iinst this appearance of equality. You must, in the wme way, divest yourself of all feeling of superiority or iiiforiority in rank, birth, position, means, or even acquire nients. You must enter the social ranks as a private K you earn your laurels by being agreeable, you Avill, ir: time, get your commission. Having made this mental preparation, having confidence without pride, modesty without shyness, ease without insolence, and dignity with- out stiffness, ycu may enter the drawing-room, and see in what way you may best make yourself agreeable. The spirit with which you must do so is one of general kindliness and self-sacrifice. You will not, therefore, select the person who has the most attractions for you, so much as any one whom you see neglected, or who, being not quite at his or her ease, requires to be talked into confidence. On the same principle, you will respect prejudices ; you will take care to ascertain them, before coming, on subjects' on which people feel strongly. Then you will not open a conversation with a young lady by abusing High or Low Church, nor with an elderly gentleman by an attack on Whig or Tory. You will not rail against babies to a inar- x'l&X woman, nor sneer at modern literature to a man with « beard, for if he is not a Crimean officer, he is sure to be a author. In like spirit you will discover and even anticipate th w^nts of others, particularly if you are a man. On first acquaintance you will treat every one with particular 104 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSEKVANCES. respect and delicacy, not rushiii;f at once into a fauiiliai joke, or roaring like a clown. I'our manner will be ciilm— because if you have no nerves, other people have tlieuj — and your voice gentle and low. Oh ! commend me to ar agreeable voice, especially in a Avoman. It is worth an^ amcunt of beauty. The tone, too, of your conversatioa und style of your manner will vary with the occasion While it will be sensible and almost grave at table, it will be merry and light at a pic-nic. Your attention, again, must not be exclusive. However little you may enjoy their society, you will be as attentive to the old as to the young ; to the humble as to the grand to the poor curate, for instance, as to the M. P. ; to the elderly chaperon as to her fair young charge. In this manner you not only evince your good-breeding, but often do a real kindness in amusing those who might otherwise be very dull. On some occasions, particularly when a party is heavy and wants life, you will generalize the con- versation, introducing a subject in which all can take an interest, and turning to them all in general. On the other hand, when, as in a small party, the conversation is by necessity general, you will particularly avoid talking to one person exclusively, or mentioning peo])le, places, or things with which only one or two of them can be ac- quainted. For instance, if at a morning call there happen to be two or three strangers at the same time, it is bad ta3te to talk about Mr. this or Mr. that. It js far bettei to have recourse to the newspapers, which every h/ody j supposed to have read, or to public affairs, in which eveiy- body can take more or less interest. But it is not in your words only that you may offend MANNERS. ] 05 against good taste. Your manners your persor_al habits your V(;ry look even may give offence. These, thereforOj must not only be studied, but if you have the misfortuno to he with people who are not accustomed to refined maii nci'3, and to find that insisting on a particular refinemoiif iTuuld give ofience, or cast an imputation on the rest, it il always bettor to waive a refinement than to hurt feelings. and it sometimes becomes more ill-bred to insist on one than to do without it. For instance, if your host and his guest dine without dinner napkins, it would be very bad taste to call for one, or if, as in Germany, there be no Bpoons for the salt, you must be content to use your knife or fork as the rest do. " To do in Rome as the Roniui s io,'' applies to every kind of society. At the same time, 70U can never be expected to commit a serious breach of manners because your neighbors do so. You can never be called on in America to spit about the room, simplj because it is a national habit. But what you should do, and what not, in particular cases, you will learn in the following chapters. I have only now to say, that if you wish to be agreeable, which is certainly a good and religious desire, you must both gtudy how to be so, and take the trouble to put your studies into constant practice. The fruit you will soon reap. You will be generally liked and loved. The gratitude of thosQ w'hom you have devoted yourself will be shown ia Spcakmg well of you; you will become a desirable adJi ion to every party and whatever your birth, fortune, jK)sition, people wiU say of you " He is a most agreeabl and well-bred man/^ and be glad to introduce you to good Bociety. But you will reap a yet better reward. Y'ou ,'.i^ 5* 106 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. have in yourself the satisfaction of having taken troublt luid made sacrifices in order to give pleasure and hapr^incss for the time to others. IIow do you know what grief or care you may not obliterate, what humiliation you raaj not alter to confidence, what anxiety you may not soften what — last, but really not least — what intense dullnes. you may not enliven ? If this work assist you in becoin ing an agreeable member of good society, I shall rejoice at the labor it has given me. PART I.-THE INDIVIDUAL CHAPTER I INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. PllERE are several passages in Holy Writ -which have been shamefully, I may almost say, ludicrously misapplied. Thus when we want a scriptural authority for making aa iruch money as possible in an honest way, we quote St. Paul, " Not slothful in business," forgetting that the "word "business" had once a far wider meaning, and that tlie Greek, for which it is placed, means really " zeal," that is, in God's work- But the most impudent appro- priation is that of cleanliness being next to godliness, and the apostle is made to affirm that if you cannot be reli- gious, you should at least wear a clean shirt. Of course a reference to the Greek would show in a moment tha purity of mind and heart are meant, and that "cleanli- ness" was once the proper English for " purity." Though we have no right to claim scriptural authority foi soap and water, we cannot agree with Thomas of Ely, who tells us that Queen Ethelreda was sc clean of heart as to need no washing of the body ; nor oan we belie v^e ihat the loftiness of Lady INIary Wortley Montague's sea- timenta at all replaced the brush and comb, towel and hw- (107) 108 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. Bin, to which tne liveliest woman of her day had such a strange aversion It was she Avho, when some one said k her at tlie opera, " How" dirty your hands are, my lady!'' slie replied with naive indifference, " What would you ay if you saw my feet?" (jienius, love, and fanaticism, seem partial to dirt Every one knows what a German philosopher looks like, and Werther showed his misery by wearing the same coal and appendices for a Avhole year. As to the saints, they were proud of their unchanged flannel, and the monk was never made late for matins by the intricacy of his toilet. St. Simeon of the Pillar is an instance of the common opinion of his day, that far from cleanliness being next to godliness, the nearest road to heaven is a remarkably dirty one. Perhaps, however, he trusted to the rain to cleanse him, and he was certainly a user of the shower- bath, Avhich cannot be said of many a fine gentleman Religion, however, is not always accompanied with neglect ^ the person. The Brahman bathes twice a day, and *»«ses his mouth seven times the first thing in the morn- ing. It is strange that Manu, while enumerating the pollutions of this world, should have made the exception of a woman's mouth, which he tells us is always clean. Probably the worthy old Hindu was partial to osculation, but it is certain that there can be no Billingsgate in India. In the beginning of the present century, it was thought inoper for a gentleman to change his under garment threo times a day, and the washing bill of a beau comprised •eventy shirts, thirty cravats, and pocket-handkerohieft *riscrctio?i. AVhat WDuld Brummell say to a college chum »1 mine who made a tour through Wales with but one flannel shirt in his knapsack ? The former's maxim was CLEANLINESS. 109 •* linen of the finest quality, plenty of it, and country washing." Fine linen has always been held in eetecm, bi.it it did not save Dives. Cleanliness is a duty to one's self for the sake ol leaUU, \cd to one's neighbor for the sake of agreeableness DirM- Less is decidedly unpleasant to more than one of the senses, and a man who thus offends his neighbor is not free from guilt, though he may go unpunished. But if these reasons were not sufficient, there is another fat stronger than both. St. Simeon Stylites may have pre- served a pure mind in spite of an absence of ablutions, but we must not lose sight of the influence whicii the body has over the soul, an influence, alas, for man ! some- times far too great. We are convinced that bad personal habits have their effect on the character, and that a maa who neglects his body, which he loves by instinct, will neglect far more his soul, which he loves only by com- mand. There is no excuse for Brummell's taking more than two hours to dress. It was in his case mere vanity, and he was — and was content to be — one of the veriest show- things in the world, as useless as the table ornaments on which he wasted the money he was not ashamed to take from his friends. On the other hand, when a young lady assures me that she can dress in ten minutes. I feel con- fident that the most important part of the toilet must be neglected. The morning toilet means more than a mere putting on of clothes, whatever policemen and French concierges may think. The first thing to be attended to after rising is the eatd. The vessel which is dignified, like a certain part of lady'g dress, with a royal Order, is one on which folios might 110 INSIDE THE DRESSING-EOOM. be written. It has given a name to two towns — Bath and Baden — renOAvned for their toilets, and it is all that is left in three continents of Roman glory. It is a club-room in Germany and the East, and was an arena in Greece and Uorae. It was in a bath that the greatest destroyer oi life had his own destroyed, when he had bathed all France in blood. But Clarence, I am convinced, has been much maligned. He has been called a drunkard, and peopl€ shudder at his choosing that death in which he could not but die in sin ; but for my part, so far as the Malmsey ia concerned, I am inclined to think that he only showed himself a gentleman to the last. He was determined to die clean, and he knew, like the Parisian ladies — which we should perhaps spell Idides — who sacrifice a dozen of champagne to their morning ablutions, that wine has a peculiarly softening effect upon the skin. Besides Cham- pagne, the exquisites of Paris use milk,* which is sup- posed to lend whiteness to the skin. The expense of thia luxury is considerably diminished by an arrangment with the milkman, who repurchases the liquid after use. I need scarcely add, that in Paris I learned to abjure cafe au lait, and to drink my tea simple. The bath deserves an Order, and its celebrity. It is of all institutions the most unexceptionable. Man is an am- phibious animal, and ought to pass some small portion of each day in the water. In fact, a large, if not the larger proportion of diseases arises from leaving the pores of the skin closed, whether with natural exudation or mat ter fiom without, alias dirt. It is quite a mistake to *The late Duke of Queensbury had his milk-bath every day It i| lappoi^i k- nourish as ^ell as whiten and soften the skin. THE BATH. Ill suppose, and ti 3 idea must at once be done away "with, that one is to wash because one is dirty. We wash be* cause we wear clothes ; in other words, because we are obliged to remove artificially what would otherwise escape by evaporation. We wash again, because we are never ic a state of perfect health, although with care we might be so. Were our bodies in perfect order — as the Sweden- borgians inform us that those of the angels are — wo should never need washing, and the bath would chill rather than refresh us, so that, perhaps, man is by neces- sity and degradation — not by destination — an amphibious creature. However this may be, we must not suppose, because a limb looks clean, that it does not need washing, and how- lever white the skin may appear, we should use the bath once a day at least, and in summer, if convenient, twice. The question now arises. What kind of a bath is best ? and it must be answered by referring to the person's constitution. If this is weak and poor, the bath should be strengthening ; but at the same time it must be remem- bered, that while simple water cleanses, thicker fluids are apt rather to encumber the skin, so that a tonic bath is not always a good one. This is the case with the champagne^ milk, mud, snake, and other baths, the value of which en- tirely depends on the peculiar state of health of the patient BO that one person is cured, and another killed by them The same is to be said of sea-bathing, and the commoii hftth even must be used with reference to one's condition. The most cleansing bath is a warm one from 9G' te 100°, into which the whole body is immersed. If cleans- ing alone be the aim, the hotter the water the better, uj to lOS". It expands the pores, dives well into them L12 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. and increases the circulaiion for the time beiiig. Bui since it is an unnatural agent, it exhausts the physical powers, and leaves us prostrate. For health therefore. it should be sparingly indulged in, except in persons of rapid and heated circulation. Even with such, it should 6e used with discretion, and the time of remaining in the bath should never exceed a few minutes. The cold bath of from 60° to 70°, on the other hand, cleanses less, but invigorates more. It should thereforo be avoided by persons of full temperament, and becomea really dangerous after eating, or even after a long rest following a heavy meal. If you have supped largely over night, or been foolish, perhaps I may say wrong enough, to drink more than your usual quantity of stim- ulating liquids, you should content yourself with passing a wet sponge over the body. A tepid bath, varying from 85o to 95^, is perhaps the safest of all, but we must not lose sight of health in the desire for comfort. The most healthy, and one of the handsomest men I ever saw, and one who at sixty had not a single grey hair, was a German, whose diet being mod- erate, used to bathe in running water at all seasons, breaking the ice in winter for his plunge. Of the shower bath, I will say nothing, because I feel, that to recom- mend it for general use, is dangerous, while for such ai work as this, which does not take health as its main sub- ject it would be out of place to go into the special cases. Tne best bath for general purposes, and one which can dc little harm J and almost always some good, is a sponge bath. It should consist of a large flat metal basin, some four feet in diameter, filled with cold water. Such a ves- sel may be bought for about fifteen shillings. A largf THE BAin. 113 coarse sponge — the coarser the better — will cost anotliej five or seven shillings, and a few Turkish towels, com- plete the "properties." The water should be plentiful and fresh, that is, brought up a little while before tho l);ith is to be used ; not placed over night in the bed-room. Let us wash and be merry, for we know not how soon the supply of that precious article which here costs nothing may be cut off. In many continental towns they bity their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration isi often reduced to half a pint a day for all purposes, so that a pint per diem is considered luxurious. Sea-water, we may here observe, does not cleanse and a sensible man who bathes in the sea will take a bath of pure water im- mediately after it. This practice is shamefully neglected, and I am inclined to think, that in many cases a sea-bath will do more harm than good without it, but if followed by a fresh bath, cannot but be advantageous. Taking the sponge bath as the best for ordinary pur- poses, we must point out some rules in its use. The sponge being nearly a foot in length, and six inches broad, must be allowed to fill completely with water, and tho part of the body which should be first attacked is the Btomach. It is there that the most heat has collected during the night, and the application of cold water quick- ens the circulation at once, and sends the blood which has been employed in digestion round the whole body. The liead should next ha soused, unless the person be of full habit when the head should be attacked before the feet touch the cold water at all. Some persons use a small hand shower bath, which is less powerful than the com- mon shower bath, and does almost as much good. The use of soap in the morning bath is an open question. I 114 INSIDE THE DRESSING-RCOl*. confbsa a preference for a rough towel or a hair glove Brummell patronized the latter, and applied it for nearlj a quarter of an hour every morning. The ancients followed up the bath by aLointing ihe body, and athletic exercises. The former is a mistake; the latter an excellent practice shamefully neglected in the present day. It would conduce much to health and strength if every morning toilet comprised the vigorous use of the dumb-bells, or, still better, the exercise of the arms without them. The best plan of all is, to choose some object in your bedroom on which to vent your hatred^ and box at it violently for some ten minutes, till the perspiration covers you. The sponge must then be again applied to the whole body. It is very desirable to remain without clothing as long as possible, and I should therefore recommend that every part of the toilet which can con- veniently be performed withoui dressing, should be so. The next duty, then, must bo to clean the Teeth. Dentists are modern inquisitors, but their torture-rooma are meant only for the foolish. Everybody is born with good teeth, and everybody might keep them good by a proper diet, and the avoidance of sweets and smoking. Of the two the former are perhaps the more dangerous. Nothing ruins the teeth so soon as sugar in one's tea, and highly sweetened tarts and puddings, and as it is le ;jre- viiei' pas qui coule, these should be particularly avoided in childhood. When the teeth attain their full growth and Btreiigth it takes much more to destroy either .heir en* amel or their substance. It is upon the teeth that the effects of excess are first Been, and it is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath depends. Wliat is more repulsive than a woman's smili THE TEETH lid Jiacovering a row of bkck teeth, unices it be the rank BDiell of the breath ? Both involve an offence of your neighbor's most delicate senses, and neither can therefore be pardoned. If I may not say that it is a Christian dutj? to keep your teeth clean, I may at least remind you that you cannot be thoroughly agreeable without doing sc Ladies particularly must remember that men love with their eyes, and perhaps I may add with their noses, and that these details do not escape them. In fact, there arc few details in women that do escape their admirers, and if Brummell broke off his engagement because the young lady ate cabbages, there are numbers of men in the pres- ent day who would be disgusted by the absence of refine- ment in such small matters as the teeth. Let words bp jvhat they may, if they come with an impure odor, they cannot please. The butterfly loves the scent of the rose more than its honey. The beau just mentioned used a red root, which is of oriental origin. It is not so penetrating as a good hard tooth-brush, with a lather of saponaceous tooth-powder upon it. The Hindus, who have particularly white teeth, use sticks of different woods according to their caste ; bu* perhaps a preparation of soap is the best thing that can be employed. The teeth should be well rubbed inside as well as outside, and the back teeth even more than the front. The mouth should then be rinsed, if not seven times, ac- cording to the Hindu legislator, at least several timeSj witli fresh cold water. This same process should be re- peated several times a day, since eating, smoking, and sc forth, naturally render the teeth and mouth dirty more or less, and nothing can be so offensive, particularly to ladies, whose sense of smell seems to be keener thf.n that of th« 116 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. other POX, and who can detect at your first approach whether you have been drinking or smoking. But if onlj for your own comfort, you slioukl brush your teeth botl niorning and evening, which is quite requisite for the pre- 3ervat: an of their soundness and color ; Avhile if you are tc mingle with others, they should be brushed, or at least the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after smoking, or drinking wine, beer or spirits. No amount of general attractiveness can compensate for an offensive odor in the breath ; and none of the senses is so fine a gentleman, none so unforgiving if offended, as that of smell. The following reproof was well-merited, if not polite. " I have had the wind in my teeth all the way," said an Irishman, after a brisk walk on a breezy morn- ing, before wdiich he had been indulging his propensity to onions. " Well, sir," replied his friend, who at once perceived how he had breakfasted, " I must say that the wind had the worst of it." The custom of allowing the nails to grow as a proof of freedom from the necessity of working, which is most absurdly identified with gentility, is not peculiar to China. In some parts of Italy the nails of the left hand are never cut till they begin to break, and a Lombard of my ac- quaintance once presented me a huge nail which he had jnst out, and which I must do him the justice to say waa perfectly white. I admired it, and threw it away. " What !" cried he indignantly, " is that the way you re- ceive the greatest proof of friendship which a man can give you ?" and he then explained to me that in his native province the nail held the same place as a lock of hair with us. I really doubt which has the preference, and whether a Lothario's desk filled with little oily packets of TUB NAILS. in different colored hair is at all more romantic than a box of beloved finger nails. Certainly there is beauty in a long silken tress, the golden tinge reminding us of the fair head of some lost child so like its mother's, or in th*i rich dark curl that, in the boldest hour of love, we raped frcm her head, who was then so confidently ours,, and now — What is she now ? But even this fancy can take a very disagreeable form, and what can we say of an ardent hopeless lover whom I once knew, and who I was assured gave a guinea to a lady's maid for the stray hairs left in her mistress' comb ! But though we may not be cultivating our nails either fco tear a rival's face with, or to confer with a majestic con- descension on some importunate admirer, we are not ab- solved from paying strict attention to their condition, and that both as regards cleaning and cutting. The former ia best done with a liberal supply of soap on a small nail- brush, which should be used before every meal, if you would not injure your neighbor's appetite. While the land is still moist, the point of a small pen-knife or pair of stumpy nail-scissors should be passed under the nails so as to remove every vestige of dirt ; the skin should bo pushed down with a towel, that the white half-moon may be seen, and the finer skin removed with the knife or scissors. Occasionally the edges of the nails should be filed, and the hard skin which forms round the corners 3f them cut away The important point in cutting the naila b to preserve the beauty of their shape. That beauty even in details is worth preserving I have already remark ed, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, as in the grace of our attitudes, or any other point The 8ha], e, then, of the nail should approach as nearly as po* 118 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. Bible to the oblong. The oriental ladies know this, and allow the nail to grow to an enormous length, and bend down towards the finger. Eut then they cultivate beauty in every detail, for, poor things, they have none but per »:n{vl attractions to depend on ; and they give to the pin nail a peculiar lustre by the little speck of purple henna just as Parisian beauties pass a line of blue paint under the lower eyelash ; perhaps, too, they keep their fingers thus well armed to protect themselves from angry pashas, or even — but let us hope not — to spoil the beauty of some more favored houri. However this may be, the length oJ the nail is an open question. Let it be often cut, but al- ways long, in my opinion. Above all, let it be well cut, ftnd never bitten. Had Brummell broken off his engage- jnent because the young lady bit her nails, I think I could not have blamed him. Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details, yes, but not childish. The attention to details is the true eign of a great mind, and he who can in necessity consider the smallest, is the same man who can compass the largest subjects. Is not life made up of details ? Must not the artist who has conceived a picture, descend from the dream of his mind to mix colors on a palette ? Must not the great commander who is bowling down nations and setting up monarchies care for the health and cjmfort, the bread and beef of each individual soldier ? I have often seen a great poet, whom I knew personally, counting on hia fing( rs the feet of his verses, and fretting with anything but poetic language, because he could not get his sense into as many syllables. What if his nails were dirty ? Let gonius talk of abstract beauty, and philosophers dog- matize on order. If they do not keep their nails clean, J CHlLBtiAINS. 119 Bhall call them both charlatans. The man •who really lo\e8 beautj will cultivate it in everything around him. The man who upholds order is not conscientious if he cannot observe it in his nails. The great mind can afford to de- ecend to details ; it is only the weak mind that fears tv.t be narrowed by them. When Napoleon was at Municl lie declined the gi-and four-poster of the Witelsbach family, and slept, as usual in his little camp-bed. The power tc be little is a proof of greatness. For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more than the bath, and as these parts are exposed and really lodge fugitive pollutions, we cannot use too much soap, or give too much trouble to their complete purification. Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small white shell-like ear; few things reconcile us better to earth than thf cold hand and warm heart of a friend ; but to complete the charm, the hand should be both clean and soft. Warm water, a liberal use of the nail-brush, and no stint of Boap, produce this amenity far more effectually than honey, cold cream, and almond paste. Of wearing gloves I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak people who are troubled with chilblains, they are indispensable all the year round. I will add a good prescription for the cure f chilblains, which are both a disfigurement, and one of £iie petite.s miszres of human life. " Roll the fingers in linen bandages, sew them up well, and dip them twice or thrice a day in a mixture, con- BJating of half a fluid ounce of tincture of capsicum, ani a flaid ounce of tincture of opium." Q'he person who invented razors libelled Nature, and add 3d & fresh misery to the days of man, '' Ah !" said Diogouea, who would never consent to be shaved, " would 120 INSIUE THE DKErfSlxVG— KOOAL you insinuate that Nature had done better to make y( u a woman than a man?" As for barbers, thej have always been gossips and mischief-makers, and Arkwright, Mho invented spinning by rollers, scarcely redeemed his trado from universal dishonor. They have been the evil spirits of great men too. whom they shaved and bearded m tlieir private closets. It was a barber who helped the late King of Oude to ruin the country he governed ; and it was a barber who, at the beginning of the present centu- ry, was the bottle-imp of a Bishop of Hereford. Who in fact can respect a man whose sole office is to deprive hia sex of their distinctive feature ? It is said that Alexander the Great introduced shaving, to prevent his soldiers being caught by the beard by their enemies, but the conqueror of Asia must be absolved of priority in this iniquitous custom, which he probably found prevalent in the countries he invaded. At any rate it would appear that the Budhist priests of India were ashamed of their locks at least a century before, and this reminds me that shaving and fanaticism have alwaya gone together. The custom of the clergy wearing a womanish face is purely Romanist, and I rejoice to see that many a good preacher in the present day is not afraid to follow Cranmer and other fathers of our Chui'ch in wearing a goodly beard. The Romish priests were first ordered to shave when transubstantiation was estab- lished, from a fear that the beard might fill into the cup. it is clear that a Protestant chin ought to be well covered Whatever be said of the clergy, the custom of snaving Came to this country like many other ugly personal habits, with the foreign monarcns. As long as we had Planta- genets, Tudcrs, and Stuarts on the throne we were men THE BEARD. \2Z as to the out^vard form. William of Orange was. asham- ed of that very appendage which it is a disgrace to a Mussulman to be without. Peter the Great had already proved that barber and barbarian are derived from tlij same root, by laying a tax on all capillary ornaments. In England there has always been a great distinction between civil and military men, and this is the only coun- try in the world where the latter have been held in such dislike, as to compel them to abandon their uniform in everyday life. Perhaps it was on this account that ci- vilians in general adopted the coutumes of the learned professions, lest they should be thought to belong to that of the sword. The beard and the rapier went out to- gether at the beginning of the last century. In the pres- ent day many a young shop-boy joins " the moustache movement" solely with a hope of being mistaken for a *' captain." Whatever Punch may say, the moustache and beard movement is one in the right direction, proving that men are beginning to appreciate beauty and to acknowledge that Nature is the best valet. But it is very amusing to hear men excusing their vanity on the plea of health, and find them indulging in the hideous " Newgate frill" as a kind of compromise between the beard and the razor. There was a time when it was thought a presumption and vanity to wear one's own hair instead of the frightful elaborations of the wig-makers, and the false curls which ^ir Godfrey Kneller did his best to make graceful on 3unvas. Who knows that at some future age some Punch of the twenty-first century may not ridicule the wearing of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's ? At any rat-e Nature knows best, and no man need be ashamed of show* 6 122 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. in2 his manhood in the hair of his face. Of razors ind shaving therefore I shall only speak from necessity, be- cause, until every bod J is sensible on this point, they will «till be used. Napoleon shaved himself " A born king," said he, has another to shave him. A made king can use hia jwn razor." But the war he made on his chin was very different to that he made on foreign potentates. He took a very long time to effect it, talking between whiles to hia hangers-on. The great man, however, was right, and every sensible man "will shave himself, if only as an exer- cise of character, for a man should learn to live in every detail without assistance. Moreover, in most cases we shave ourselves better than barbers can do. If we shave at all, we should do it thoroughly, and every morning nothing, except a frown and a hay-fever, makes the face look so unlovely as a chin covered with short stubblC' The chief requirements are hot water, a large soft brush of badger hair, a good razor, soft soap that will not dry rapidly, and a steady hand. Cheap razors are a fallacy. They soon lose their edge, and no amount of stropping will restore it. A good razor needs no strop. If jou can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one for each day of the week, so that no one shall be too much used. There are now much used packets of papers of a certain kind on which to wipe the razor, and which keep its edge keen, and are a substitute for the strop. I may here remark, that the use of violet-powder affcei shaving, now very common among well-dressed men, ia one that should be avoided. In the first place, it is al- most always visible, and gives an unnatural look to the fece. I know a young lady, who being afflicted with a WHISKERS. 123 I'edness in a feature above the chin, is in the habit of pow- dering it. For a long time I thought her charming, but since I made the discovery I can never look at her'vfilh- out a painful association with the pepper-caster. Violet- owder also makes the skin rough, and enlarges the pores f it sooner or later. Beards, moustaches^ and whiskers, have always been EQOsfc important additions to the face. Italian conspira- tors are known by the cut of those they wear ; and it ia not Ions since an Englishman with a beard was set down as an artist or a philosopher. In the present dij literary men are much given to their growth, and in that respect Bflow at once their taste and their vanity. Let no man be ashamed of his beard, if it be well kept and not fantas- tically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits. The Hungarians wear it so long that they can tie the ends round their heads. The style of the beard should be adopted to suit the face. A broad face should wear a large full one ; a long face is improved by a sharp-pointed one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the vari- ous styles, and they are almost numberless. The chief point is to keep the beard well-combed and in neat trim. As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a pair of full length. There is certainly a great vanity about them^ but it may be generally said that foppishness should be avoided in this as in most other points. Above all the whiskers should never be curled, nor pulled out fci »n absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close with the scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too large, and such fopperies as curling the points thereof, or twisting them up to the fineness of needles — though pa- tronized by the Emperor of the French — are decidedly n 124 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. prool' of vanity. If a man wear the hair on bis fao6 wliich nature has given him, in the manner that nature viifllributca it, keeps it clean, and prevents its overgrowth, bo cannot Jo wrong. If, on the other hand, he applies to Marie Coupelle, and other advertisers, because he belie vefe that " those dear silky whiskers" will find favor in th eyes of the fair, he will, if unsuccessful, waste much money — if successful, incur the risk of appearing ridicu- lous. All extravagancies are vulgar, because they are evidence of a pretence to being better than you are ; but a single extravagance unsupported is perliaps worse than a number tojiether, which have at least the merit of con- sistency. If you copy puppies in the half-yard of whis- ker, you should have their dress and their manner too if you would not appear doubly absurd. The same remarks apply to the arrangment of the hail in men, which should be as simple and as natural as pos- sible, but at the same time a little may be granted to beauty and the requirements of the face. For my part I can see nothing unmanly in wearing long hair^ though undoubted- ly it is inconvenient and a temptation to vanity, wh'le its arrangement would demand an amount of time and atten- tion which i» unworthy of a man. But every nation and e\ery age has had a different custom in this respect, and to this day even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn long. The German student is particularly partial to hya- ointhlne locks curling over a black velvet coat ; and tho f>easant of Brittany looks very handsome, if not always clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down under a broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the matter severely. The old fathers preached and railed "igainst wigs, the Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bor IHE HAIR. 12J Jeaux on the same account, and English Rjuniheads con. signed to an unmentionable place everj man who allowed his hair to grow according to nature The Romans con demned tresses as unmanly, and in France in the niiddlo ages the privilege to wear them was confined to royalty Our modern custom was a revival of the French revolu- tion, so that in this respect we are now republican as well as puritanical. If we conform to fashion we should at least make the best of it, and since the main advantage of short hair ia its neatness, we should take care to keep ours neat. This should be done fii-st by frequent visits to the barber, for if the hair is to be short at all it should be very short, and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled masses sticking out over the ears. If it curls naturally so much the better, but if not it will be easier to keep in order. The next point is to wash the head every morning, which, when once habitual, is a great preservative against cold. I never have more than one cold per annum, and I attribute this to my use of the morning bath, and regular washing of my head. A pair of large brushes, hard or soft, as your case requires, should be used, not to hammer he head with, but to pass up under the hair so as to reach the roots. As to pomatum, Macassar, and other inven- tions of the hairdresser, I have only to say that, if used at all, it should be in moderation, and never sufficiently to make their scent perceptible in company. Of course tho rrangment will be a matter of individual taste, but as the middle of the hair is the natural place for a parting, it is rather a silly prejudice to think a man vain who parts his hail in the centre. He is less blamable than one who is too lazy to part it at all, and has always the appearanca of having iust eot up. 126 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and scr- Boons since the days of the Roman emperors. I shall say nothing here except that they are a practical falsehood which may sometimes be necessary, but is rarely success- fill For my part I prefer the snows of life's winter to tho best made peruke, and even a bald head to an inferior wig. When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of their legs, an esquire was a necessity ; and we can under- stand that, in the days of the Beaux, the word "gentle- man" meant a man and his valet. I am glad to say that in the present day it only takes one man to make a gentle- man, or, at most, a man and a ninth — that is, including the tailor. It is an excellent thing for the character to be neat and orderly, and, if a man neglects to be so in hia room, he is open to the same temptation sooner or later in his person. A dressing-case is, therefore, a desideratum. A closet to hang up cloth clothes, which should never be folded, and a small dressing-room next to the bed-room, are not so easily attainable. But the man who throws hia clothes about the room, a boot in one corner, a cravat Id another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything fthout liim. CHAPTER n. THE lady's TOILEI. 4flr ejo particular has the present generatioc ;:ieccme mow fafi?»dious than in what is requisite for the use of ladie* in their own dressing-rooms. Essences, powders, pastes waslies for the hair, washes for the skin, recal the days of one's grandmother, when such appurtenances were though* essential and were essential : for our great-grandmothera were not rigid in points of personal cleanliness ; and it ia only uncleanliness that requires scents to conceal it, and applications to repair its ravages. Our great-grandmoth- ers wore powder and pomatum, and had their hair dressed three times a week ; going to bed in the cushioned struct- ure, after suiFering torture for some hours lest they should, in the weakness of human infirmity, lean back in their chairs. Our great-grandmothers, too, had their white kid gloves sewn to the bottom of each sleeve, lest they should incur the calamity of a sun-burnt arm. Our great-grand- mothers were afraid of cold water, and delicately toiped their faces with the corner of a towel no larger than a pocket handkerchief There were those amongst them who boasted that they had never washed their faces in heir whole span of existence, lest it should spoil their iX)mplexions, but had only passed a cambric handkerchief ■ over the delicate brow and cheeks, wetted with elder- ttower water or rose water. I believe the nearest ap- (127) 128 THE lady's toilet. proach to the ablution we now diurnallj practise was tht bathing their lovely countenances in May-dew. esteemed tlie finest thhig in the moiniiig for the skin by our belloa of the last century : so they turned out betimcc< ai higl heeled shoes and mgligis^ trotted down the old avcnuea of many a patriarchal home to the meadow, and saturat- ing their kerchiefs in May-dew, refreshed with it the cheeks flushed over-night at quadrille or great cassino, and v^ent home contented that a conscientious duty had been per formed ! Nor were they wrong. Some wise fairy of old must have inspired the nymph whom she loved with the belief in May dew ; tradition handed down the counsel from one generation to another, the fairy, or gnome, smiling all the while as she saw the lovely procession of the squires' young daughters steal out and bend down amid the butter-cupa and ladies'-smock in the meadow : she smiled, and, as she flmiled. wafted to them good health, good spirits, and their type — bloom. She had induced them by a stratagem — Heaven pity her pious fraud ! — to take a preliminary step to beauty and its preservation ; she had beguiled them into early rising. For gentle ladies, you may wash, may bathe your forms and faces, curl your locks, and shake out your crinoline ; use every essence Atkinson has, wherewith to arrest the attention of wistful passers-by ; you may walk by the hour, eat by rule, take beauty-sleep before midnight, yet, if you are very long after the " Sanguine sunrise with his meteor eyes"* JQ coming out and abroad from your chambers, youth will • Shelley. EARLY RISING. 129 not stay with you out his time, but, hke an ill-behaved apf rentice, will break his indentures, and vow that he can- not abide with you. It is true that rules for habitual early rising cannot be laid down for every one, without espccia] reference to other habits; very early rising, after lat< parties, or great fatigue on the previous day, or extrcmfl delicacy of the lungs or throat, might even be pernicious, and its use or abuse must be regulated by the physician, In those cases the advice that is now given is for persons in an ordinary condition of health. For them, and even with some exceptions for invalids, there can be no habit of the day or life so important, as far as good looks are con- cerned, as early rising. All other animals whose health is of importance to man are forced to rise early. The horse, on whose good condition his beauty, and therefore his value depends, is exercised as early as possible. Our cattle on the uplands scent the morning breeze as it brings the odors of the woodbine ; the little house-dog pants till he can rush forth from the pent-up heated chamber to the fresh lawn ; and why is this obvious law of nature of so great importance to these objects of preference or of value !' The morning air is more strengthening, has a great pro- portion of oxygen, be it replied, than any other breeze that refreshes us by day, or when " the pale purple even" warns us that our enjoyment of its delicious sensations aro not devoid of danger. No one catches cold in the morn- ing air, at least with the ordinary prudence of sufficient clothing. Fortified by sleep, the change of atmosphere is most salubrious. To the careless and happy, what can be iTQOre delightful than to feel all the freshness of nature fothing every sense, whilst the great world and its inter- ests and troubles is silent and slumbers? And it vs this 6* ISO INSIDE THE DnESblMO-ROOiM. fi-esh breeze this emancipation crom the pent-uj chaml)er this reviving influence, that c^ymbim to form a restoratim Buch as neither medicine nor regimen can offer ; tLat pre- serves looks, appetite for food, ar.d bloom and delicacy of eomplexion. An aged clergyman who b'^d known not one day's ill ness was asked his secret: " Dry feet and early rising," was his reply; " thes2 are my only two precautions." With regard then to wh;it a French author calls " a whole Cyclopaedia of narcotics," young women forget that there is no royal road to health and beauty. They must take the ri^ht path if they wish to reap the reward. No person in good health should remain in bed after seven y clock, or half-past seven, in the spring and summer , that may, in the present century, when the daughters of England are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed early rising. She may then be down stairs at eight, and without taking a long and fatiguing walk, saunter in the garden a little ; or, if in a large town, have time to prac- tise, supposing that the opportunity of going out into the air is denied. By this means, that vigor which is the very Boul of comeliness, the absence of hurry and the sense of self-reproach incurred by late rising, and the hunger felt for breakfost, will all conduce to arrest Time, as she hovers over his wholesale subjects, and to beguile him into sparing that process with his scytlie by which he furrows the brow of the indolent with wrinkles, whilst he colors the pool victim, at the same time, with his own pet preparatioE of saffi-on Suppose then that this first and vital standing order foi the toilet be stringent, and that refreshed, and therefore energetic, buoyant, and conscious of one duty being at leafll CLEANLINESS ANL EXERCISE. V6\ performed, the lady leaves her bed and prepares to Jress L. E. L. used to saj, for she was no early riser, that '• w€ begin every day with a struggle and a sacrifice." But the struggle is soon changed by habit into an eager dcsiie ta get up ; and the sacrifice, to the habitual early riser, is to be in bed. She rises : if in summer, throws open the window for a quarter of an hour, whilst the bath is being prepared, then closes it again, until the ablutions are com- pleted. The nature of these must be guided in a great measure by the general health. Of all bracing processes, to a sound consiUntioji. that of the shower-bath is the greatest. It should be used however only with the sanc- tion of the physician. The nervous energy is invigorated by it, the digestion, a great desideratum for the complexion, is improved ; the balance of circulation between the viscera and skin is maintained ; and -taking cold, that enemy of the graces, rheums, catarrhs, and sore throats are kept off; swelling glands are prevented, and the whole powers of tlie frame increase. But, since the reaction is not in some delicate constitutions suflBcient to make the use of the shower-bath desirable, tlie hip-bath, half filled with tepid water at first, and with cold afterwards, or the spong ing bath, are admirable modifications of the shower-bath. Thus fortified, the lady who has courage to conquer a ghower-bath, or to plunge into a hip-bath, can face the morning air, and go forth with the self-earned coat-of- jiail, as a defence against all that ugly family of catarrhal Sections. "Wo r.3w come to the toilet-table. This, in a lady's as well as in a gentleman's room, should be always neatly Bet Dut, and every article placed where it can be most ccn- ?eniently used. In former times, vast expense used to be 182 THE lady's toilet. bestowed on china, and even on gold and silver toilet- services; then came the war, and the national poverty, Qjid those luxurious appliances were let down, if not aban- doned. We have now resumed them with a degree of eX' pense that is hardly wise or consistent. The secrets of the toilet were, indeed, no fancied mysteries in formei, days. Until the first twenty years of this century had passed away, many ladies of bon ton thought it necessary^ in order to complete their dress, to put a touch of rouge on either cheek. The celebrated Mrs. Fitzherbert waa rouged to the very eyes ; those beautiful deep blue eyea of hers. The old Duchess of R — enamelled, and usually fled from a room when the windows were opened, as tho compound, whatever formed of, was apt to dissolve and run down the face. Queen Caroline (of Brunswick) was rouged fearfully; her daughter, noble in form, fliir but pale in complexion, disdained the art. Whilst tho rouged ladies might have sung or said, " We are blushing roses, Bending vdth our fiilness,'* that gifted and lamented princess might have mswered, " We are lilies fair. The flower of virgin light. Nature held us forth, and said, Lo ! ' my thoughts of white ' " * And it was certainly remarkable, that after the Princesi Charlotte's introduction at Court, rouge, which had been the rule, became the exception, and that young people gen- erally never used it. • Hunt ROUGE AND COSMETICS. 138 Still there were other means resorted to for attaining the whiteness of skin which medical men dread, but which is certainly a very striking and beautiful characteristic of an English woman. I once knew a lady who was bleJ from time to time to keep the marble-like Avhiteness of lier complexion ; others, to my knowledge, rub their faces with bread-crumbs as one should a drawing. But, worst of all, the use of pearl powder, or of violet powder, haa been for the last half century prevalent. Independent of all sorts of art being unpleasant, nc mistake of the fair one is greater than this. She may powder, she may go forth with a notion that the pearly whiteness of her brow, her neck, will be deemed all her own ; but there are lights in which the small deception will be visible, and the charm of all coloring is gone when it proves to be artificial. We tremble to think what is un- derneath. There is another inconvenience attached to the use of pearl powder, its great unwholesomeness. It checks the natural relief of the skin, perspiration ; and though it may not always injure the health, it dries up the cuticle, and invites as it were age to settle. Where pearl powder /las been made an article of habitual use, wrinkles soon require additional layers to fill it up. just as worn out roads have ruts, and must be repaired ; but the macada- mising process cannot be applied to wrinkles. Still more fatal is the use of cosmetics ; its extrava- gance, in the first place, is an evil ; but I treat not of the moral question, but of its j)hysical effects. Some women 3p3nd as much on essences and sweet waters as would enable them to take a journey, and thus do more for theii looks than all that a bureau full of cosmetics could insure 184 THE LADY'S TOILEl. Many an eruptive disease has arisen from the desire to make the skin clear ; above all, avoid specifics. Your friends are in the habit of saying, such a thing " is good for the complexion ;"' but remember that complexion ia the dial of constitution, and that no two constitutions are alike. What is salutary in one case, may produce seriouf mischief in another. For instance, when abroad^ a lady who had been very much sunburnt was told that cucumbers cut into slices and put into cream, produce a decoction that would take off the burning effects of the sun. It is, in fact, a remedy used by German ladies, who must however haA^e skins differently constituted than ours to bear it. The lady used this very powerful specific, and her face was blister- ed. Nothing, indeed, but time and cold weather will take away the effects of the sun : butter-milk, from its gentle »xcid, has some efficacy on certain skins, but it is a disa- greeable remedy. The softest possible water ought, however, to be resort- ed to in washing the face ; and rain-water, filtered, is in- comparably the best. Great care should be taken not to check perspiration by washing when heated ; these are precautions consistent with nature, and therefore valuable The water should be dashed freely over the face several times, and the process be pursued in the middle of the day, as well as in the morning and at dinner-time ; it ia (rue, the face may, without that, be clean all day, but it will not be fresh. The Turkish towels now used so much are excellent foi wiping, as they do that important opera- tion not only thoroughly, but without irritating the skin , the body, on the other hand, should be dried with a coarse huckaback, an article unknown in France, but excellenl THE TRUE COSMETICS. 18i foi promoting quick circulation in the frame afler bathing To complete, then, the toilet so far as the person is con- cerned ; with few or no cosmetics, with nothing but the U3C of soap (the old brown Windsor being still, in spite of all modern inventions, far the best for the skin,) td have the water brought in fresh in the morning, as tha in the room is seldom, except in winter, really cool, thcsa are the simple preservatives of the skin, which it is very easy to injure and irritate, and very difficult to restore to a healthy condition. It must, however, be remembered that a healthy condition of the skin depends far less on external than on internal causes ; and that good health, maintained by early rising, and a simple, nutritive diet, is the great originator of a clear and blooming complexion. In cases of eruption, however, do nothing without good advice. Many an eruption which poisons the comfort even )f the strongest-minded woman, has been fixed beyond jure by dabblings of Eau-de-Cologne on the face — thua 3xciting instead of allaying the fiery enemy — milk of roses, essences, and cosmetics, whose name is Legion. Such is the effect of desperation on the female mind, that it has been even tried whether raw veal cutlets being put on the face would not soften and improve the skin ; an act of folly which can only be characterized as disgusting. Banish, therefore, if free from any cutaneous disease, every essence, cosmetic, or sweet- water from your toilet ; and remember that to keep the skin smooth and clean, all rubbing and touching should be avoided : fresh air, when the heat of the sun is not intense, and pure water, are the best and only cosmetics that can be used without pre- judice. There are many alleviationa to eruptive complainta 136 THE lady's toilet. among the best is a solution of sulphur ; but even this bIiouU never be resorted to without advice, and in the proper proportions In mauj cases, however, it almo8t imnjed lately removes an eruption, by cooling the skin ; bence it will be seen how very injurious are all essences vyith spirit in them, which have a tendency to heat and inflammation. " Do you want luxuriant hair?" is a question we flee daily in the papers, answered, of course, by a specific. If possible, the skin of the head requires even more tender- ness and cleanliness than any other portion of the body, and is very soon capable of being irritated into disease. In respect of this, as of the complexion, people err gene- rally, from doing too much. In the first place, the most perfect cleanliness must be enjoined ; formerly the use of a fine- tooth comb was considered essential, and abroad it is still resorted to, and is in some cases salutary. But, in general, to the careful brusher the comb is not essential. I say the careful brusher, for great harm 13 often done to the hairs by rude, sharp, irregular brus' ing. The hain should be separated with a comb, so thai the head and nol the hairs be brushed. The brush should not be too hard; it may slightly redden the skin, but n ) more ; the use of pomatum should be sparing, and confi red to that of which the ingredients are known — marrow },nd bear's grease are the best, and the former is most eaa ly obtained genuine. All scents are more or less injurious to the hair, and they ahould be used in the slightest possible proportion. To wash the roots of the hair from time to time with weak vinegar and water, or with a solution of ammonia, cleansei it effectually, whilst a yolk of an egg beaten up and mix- ed witli warm water is excellent for the skin and hair THE HAIR. 131 but it ia troublesome to wash out. and must be done bj s careful maid. There is no risk, but great benefit, in wash- ing even the "luxuriant hair"' of a person in health, if ione in warm weather, and well dried, or by a fiie ; and small quantity of ammonia insures from catching cold, It is quite a mistake to suppose that washing the hail makes it coarse ; it renders it glossy and flexible ; the vashing cools the head, the heat of which is the great source of baldness and grey hairs ; it prevents all that Bmell from very thick hair which is detected in persons who trust to the brush only ; lastly, it is one of the most refreshing personal operations, next to the bath, that can be devised. A lady's hair should, in ordinary life, be dressed twice a day, even if she does not vary the mode. To keep it jool and glossy, it requires being completely taken down m the middle of the day, or in the evening, according to the dinner-hours. The taste in dressino; it in the mornnif; should be simple, without pins, bows, or any foreign aux- iliary to the best ornament of nature. I do not mean to deprecate the use of the pads, as they are called, or sup- port? under the hair used at this time, because they super- sede the necessity of frizzing, which is always a process most injurious to the hair ; but I own I object much to the ends of black lace, bows of ribbon, &c., used by many youiig women in their morning coiffure : of course, for tli0S9 past girlhootlier had the king's evil in his neek. Long skirts pro- bably came in to hide a pair of ungainly feet, and hoopa wtrt iiiti educed to make a (^^ueenly waist look smaller than it was. 142 DRESS. Theie is, however, a difTerence between the f rerogati?! uf fashion and that of ollior despots. While we are bouml to yield a geurral obedience to his laws, we nave the light, without a loss of cast-e, to disregard any which are mani- festly absurd and nconvenient. If, for example, a fashion' sble of the present day, to whom nature had given an ugl^ foot, were to foUjw the example of Fulk, Duke of Anjou and introduce such long peaks to our boots that we couM not walk in them, we may be certain that their use would not survive a season, and would be confined to a class who have little to do but look ornamental. It is certainly a consolation to find that in the present day the fashions of male attire are restricted, not as they once were, by royal edicts, but by the common sense of men who know that dress ought to be convenient as well as elegant. With ladies it is otherwise. Woman is still too generally be- lieved to have no higher mission than that of pleasing the senses rather than the judgment of men, and so many women of all classes are idle, that a fashion, however pre- posterous, is more readilj^ accepted and more universally adopted by them than by the stronger sex. And this ig the case even when the reform proposed is obviously most advantageous. How difficult, for instance, has it been to abolish the stiff black hat and the throat-cuttinu; collar, though the wide-aAvake and the turned-down collar were at once more graceful and more comfortable. How complete- ly has the attempt to establish the *' peg-top" been a fail- ure, though every man of sense who values his health must fwl that a loose covering is both more oomiortable and more healthy than a ti jht sheathing of cloth. The fact is, that tliere is a conservatism in fashion Avhich has the ap- pearance of being respectable, but is really slavish and APPROPRIATENESS. 148 Billy ; and the weekly satirists who undertake to laugh down its extravagances have not always the sense to ap- preciate its wisdom. Those in fact who are most eager in the blind attack on fashion, are often really its more ah jcct and least sensible servants. To condemn a new fash- ion only because it is new, is contemptibly short-sighted and the old wise gentlemen who sneer at " new-fangled fan- cies" should first ascertain whether the innovation is for the better or the worse. But, after all, the changes of fashion are not sufficiently rapid or violent in respect of men's dress, to make even our grandfathers uncomfortable on account of their pecu- liarity. If the hat-brim and coat-collar have lost what was once considered a graceful curl, if huge shirt-collars and stiff cravats have given way to a freer arrangement for the neck, if blue swallow-tailed coats and brass buttona have been succeeded by blue frocks without them, and buff waistcoats with painfully tight appendices, by white waist- coats and the liberty of the leg, the change is not great enough to require a new race of tailors, or make old men ridiculous even in our streets. But while an old man in an old fashion not only passes muster, but seems to acquiro additional respectability from the antiquity of his stjJ?, 9i young man can scarcely adopt his grandfather's watdrob? without risking a smile. I remember once taking a /i-ie^d of mine — a country squire of one-and-twenty — to dine with some extremely fashionable but not very w'/ll-bred bachelors. The appearance of my companion wa,fi decid- edly antique ; for, conservative to the back ar.d its cover- ing, he prided himself on maintaining the style of hia worthy progenitor. I saw that the eye-glasses were turned on him with a look of mingled pity and contempt, and in 144 DRESS. the course of dinner heard the following remarks pskfll between the host and a guest : — " Pray G — ," asked a lisping bewhiskered exquisite of the former, " who is your fine old English geutleman? WLat style do you call it ? Rather George the Fourth " Yes, rather," replied tbo host ; "but," he added in a whisper, " he has just come in to ,£12,000 a year and B— Hall" " Oh ! — aw, indeed ! Then of course he can afford to be eccentric." This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress : the first of which I shall take is appropriateness. The age of the individual is an important consideration in this respect : and a man of sixty is as absurd in the style of nineteen as my young friend in the high cravat of Brum- mell's day. I know a gallant colonel who is master of the ceremonies in a gay Avatering-place, and who, afraid of the prim old-fashioned toiirnure of his confreres in simi- lar localities, is to be seen, though his hair is grey and his age not under five-and-sixty, in a light cut-away, the " peg-top" continuations, and a turned-down collar. It may be what younger blades will wear when they reach his age, but in the present day the effect is ridiculous. Wo may, therefore, give as a general rule, that after the turning-point of life a man should eschew the changes of fashion in his own attire, while he avoids complaining of it in the young. In the latter, on the other hand, tlie ol)- Bervance of these changes must depend partly on his ta?te •nd partly on his position. If wise, he will adopt with alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace the ease, the healthfulness, and the convenience of his gar- APPROPRIATENESS. 146 ments. lie will be glad of greater freedom in the cut oi his cloth clothes, of boots with elastic sides instead ol troublesome buttons or laces, of the privilege tc turn down his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid as extravur gant. elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waist- coat, and expensive buttons. On the other hand, what- ever his age, he will have some respect to his profession and position in society. He will remember how much the appearance of the man aids a judgment of his char- acter, and this test, which has often been cried down, ig in reality no bad one ; for a man who does not dress ap- propriately evinces a want of what is most necessary to professional men — tact and discretion. I could not, for instance, feel confidence in a young physician dressed as I am accustomed to see a guardsman ; while, if my law- yer were a dandy in his office, I should be inclined to think he knew more of gay society than of Coke upon Lyttleton. The dress of the clergy is not an arbitrary matter, yet I have seen ecclesiastics, who, abandoning the white choker, lounge in an easy costume, little different from that of their undergraduate days, and though it is certainly hard to condemn a man for life to the miseries of black cloth, we have a right to expect that he should be proud rather than ashamed of the badge of his high calling. Position in society demands a like appropriateness Well knowing the worldly value of a good coat, I would yet never recommend a man of limited means to aspire to a fashionable appearance. In the first place, he becomea thereby a walking falsehood ; in the second, he cannot, without running into debt, which is another term for dis- honesty, maintain the styl'^ he has adopted. As he can* £46 DRESS. not afford to change his suits aa rapidlj as fashion altera he must avoid following it in varying details. He wiL rush into wide sleeves one mouth, in the hope of being fashionable, and before his coat is worn out, the next month will bring in a narrow sleeve. We cannot, unf r- tunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak now-a-days to the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, " long cloaks being now quite out," as he tells us. Even when there is no poverty in the case, our position must not be for- gotten. The tradesman will win neither customers nor friends by adorning himself in the mode of the club- lounger, and the clerk, or commercial traveller, who dressea fashionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his ante- cedents, which he may not care to have investigated. In general, it may be said that there is vulgarity in dressing like those of a class above us, since it must be taken as a proof of pretension. I remember going to church in a remote little village on the borders of Wales, and being surprised to see enter, among the clodhoppers and sim.ple folk of the place, i couple of young men dressed in the height of fashion, and wearing yellow kid gloves and patent leather boots. On inquiry I found them to be the sons of a rich manufactur- er, who had himself been once a working man, and wag residing in the neighborhood. I was not surprised, foi vulgar pretension was here carried out to the worst ex* treme. Better-bred men would have known that, what- ever their London costume a difference must be made in the country. The rule may be laid down that wherever we are we shrnild assimilate, as far as convenient, to the customs and costumes of the place. While I had no wish ^0 see the sons of the parvenu appear in smock-froclM TOWN AND COUNTRY. HI ftnd high-lows, I w&s reasonable in thinking that a rough er style of dress would have been better, and this may be said for the country generally. As it is bad taste to flaunt the airs of the town among provincials, who know nothing jf them, it is worse taste to display the dress of a city in he quiet haunts of the rustics. The law which we havff enunciated, tliat all attempts at distinction by means of dress is vulgar and pretentious, would be sufficient argu- ment against wearing London fashions in the country ; but if this is not sufficient, we may picture the inconvenience of such a measure under certain circumstances. Had a shower of rain descended at the conclusion of (he ser- vice, our two young sprigs of gentility would have looked superbly ridiculous in their thin boots and lig at gloves. and no London hansom to take refuge in, to s&y nothing of spoiling one's boots and catching cold. While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress is both admissible and desirable in the country, there are many occcasions of country visiting where a town man finds it difficult to decide. It is almost peculiar to the country to unite the amusements of the daytime with those of the evening ; of the open air with those of the drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are long, you will be asked to a pic-nic or an archery party, which will wind up Tvith dancing in-doors, and may even assume the character of a ball. If you are aware of thia bef«.rehand, it will always be safe to send your evening Iress to your host's house, and you will learn fi-om the servants whether others have done the same, and whether, therefore, you will not be singular in asking leave to cuarige year costume. But if you are ignorant ho^ tbg day is to end, you must be guided partly by the hour of 148 DRESS. invitation, and partly bj the extent of your intimacy -witfl the family. I have actually known gentlemen arrive at a lar^e pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening dress, and pitied them with all my heart, compelled as they were to Buffer, in tight black clothes, under a hot sun for eight hours, and dance after all in the same dress. On the other hand, if you are asked to come an hour or two before sun- set, after six in summer, in the autumn after five, joxx cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance with your hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiari- ty to do otherwise. In any case you desire to avoid sin- gularity, so that if you can discover what others who are invited intend to wear, you can always decide on your own attire. On the Continent there is a convenient rule for these matters ; never appear after four in the after- noon in morning dress ; but then grey trousers are there allowed instead of black, and white waistcoats are still worn in the evening. At any rate, it is possible to effect a compromise between the two styles of costume, and if you are likely to be called upon to dance in the evening, it will be well to wear thin boots, a black frock-coat, and a small black neck-tie, and to put a pair of clean white gloves into your pocket. You will thus be at least less conspicuous in the dancing-room than in a light tweed suit. Englishmen are undeniably the most conservative men it the world, and in nothing do they show it more univer tally than in maintaining their usual habits in any country climate, or eeason. U Anglais en voyaye has been a fruitful subject of ridicule both to our own and foreign writers, and I shall therefore content myself with saying that, while I would not have an Englishman adopt every TKAVELLINa, 149 Ifcal habit or every fantastic costume cf tliose among whom te finds himself, I would fain see him avoid that distinc- tiveness in both which is set down by our neighbors U pride and obstinacy. Excellent, for instance, is the cu? tom of shaking hands, but it has on the Continent gene rally a much more friendly and particular signification, an is permitted between the sexes only after a long intimacy. In fact, a French jeune Jille never takes a gentleman'* hand unless he is quite an emi de la maiso7i, so that foi an Englishman at a first visit to shake hands all round amounts to a familiarity. I shall never forget the deep crimson on the cheeks of a charming girl to whom I once introduced an English friend, and who was too well-bred not to touch his proffered hand, but did so with an air of un- mistakable surprise. " Qu'est-ce quec'est que votre ami," flhe asked me afterwards ; " est-ce qu'il veut done m'em- brasser?" To impose the manners of one's country on the people of another, is as bad as to revive those of a past century. In ihfi iTiiddle of the last century it was the custom for a gentleman on entering a room, to kiss the ladies all round on the cheek. Had not my French friend as much rignt blush, as any English young lady would if I were to subject her to the practice of the charming but obsolete custom ? Can anything be more painfully ridiculous than an Eng- lishman wearing a black silk hat and frock-coat of cloth under tho sun of the equator ? Yet such is our want cf sense, or our love of national costumes, however hideous that it is the etiquette in our colonies, whether in the tro- pics or the arctic regions, to wear precisely the same stiff hot court dress as at St, James'. However this might h« 150 DHESS. excused on tlie pica of uniformity in official dresSj it ia no excuse for the fashion -which imposes the coat, &'C. of I'ul] M-)ll on the gentleman of Calcutta or Colombo ; and th# lanie may be said of our own fashion of wearing clotJj •lothcs throughout the year. There is many a summer' lay in England as hot as any in Italy, and in general the difference between our summer and that of France and America is, that there the heat is glaring and clear, witli OS, if less powerful, close and jppressive. Why then should my Lord Fashion permit the Frenchman and Yan- kee to wear whole suits of white linen, and condemn us to black cloth? Nothing can be neater or prettier, as mod- ern dress goes, tlian the white coat, waistcoat, et cetera with a straw hat and a bright blue tie; but it is some- thing to say against it, that London smoke would necessi- tate a clean suit per diem, which would materially aug- ment the Avashing expenditure of our metropolitan Beaux Tibbses. The nearest approach we are allowed to make to a sensible costume, on days when we should like to fol- low Sidney Smith's advice, by the removal of our flesh and sitting in our skeletons, is that of light thin tweeds, but even these are not countenanced in St. James' and the Park, and we must be content to take refuge in a white waistcoat and the thinnest possible material for our frock- coat. On the other hand, as our winters are never very severe, we have only to choose thicker tweeds of a darkei color for that season, and the wrapper or great coat thea becomes not nearly so important an article as tho indifl pensable umbrella. In this country, therefore, as present fashions require, appropriateness to the season will bd easily acquired by a change of material and colo»' Tithei than of form, in our apparel. APPR0PR7ATENESS TO OCCASIONS. 151 Not £0 the distinction to be made according to size. Aa s rule, tall men require long clothes — some few perhaps even in the nurse's sense of those words — ana short men short clothes. On the other hand, Falstaff should beware !>f Jenny AVrcn coats and affect ample wrappers, -^hile Peter Schemihl, and the whole race of thin men, must eschew looseness as much in their garments as their morals. Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different ocoa* eions, and as this is an important subject, I shall treat of it separately. For the present it is sufficient to point out chat while every man should avoid not only extravagance, but even brilliance of dress on ordinary occasions, there are some on which he may and ought to pay more atten- tion to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is ft fixed rule, from which we can depart only to be foppish or vulgar ; but in morning dress there is greater liberty, and when we undertake to mingle with those who are as- sembled avowedly for gaiety, we should not make ourselves remarkable by the dinginess of our dress. Such occasions! are open air entertainments, /(^7e5, flower-shows, archery- meetings, inathves, and id gemis omtie, where much of the pleasure to be derived depends on the general effect on the enjoyers, and where, if we cannot pump up a look of mirth, we should at least, if we go at all, wear the sem- blance of it in oui dress. I have a worthy little friend, who, I believe, is as well-disposed to his kind as Lord Shaftesbury himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a twinge of philosophy about him, frequs-^ts the gay meet* ings to which he is asked in an old coat and a wide-awake. Some people take him for a wit, but he soon shows that he does not aspire to that character ; others for a philcso- 152 DRESS. pher, but he is too gcod-mannered for that ; others pool man ! pronounce him a cynic, and all are agreed that whatever he may be, he looks out of place and spoik the general effect. I believe in my heart that he is the mild- e.'it of men, but -will not take the trouble to dress mor(< than once a day. At any rate, he has a character for ec centricity, which, I am sure, is precisely what he would wish to avoid. That character is a most delightful one foi a bachelor and it is generally Ccelebs who holds it, for it has been proved by statistics that there are four single to one married man among the inhabitants of our mad-houses ; but eccentricity yields a reputation which requires some- thing to uphold it, and even in Diogenes of the Tub it was extremely bad taste to force himself into Plato's evening party without sandals, and nothing but a dirty tunic on him. Another requisite in dress is its simplicity, with which I may couple harmony of color. This simplicity is the only distinction which a man of taste should aspire to in the matter of dress, but a simplicity in appearance must proceed from a nicety in reality. One should not be eimply ill-dressed, but simply-well dressed. Lord Castle- reagh w^ould never have been pronounced the most distin- guished man in the gay court of Vienna, because he wore no orders or ribbons among hundreds decorated with a pro- fusion of those vanities, but because besides this he wa« Pressed with taste. The charm of Brummell's dress wsa rts simplicity ; yet it cost him as much thought, time, and tare, as the porttulio of a minister. The rules of sira- plici'y, therefore, are the rules of taste All extravagance, all splendor, and all profusion, must be avoided. The colors, in the first place, must harmonize both with our complexion JEWELRY. 153 And -with one another ; perhaps most of all with the coloi of cur hair. All bright colors should be avoided, such as red, yellow, sky-blue, and bright green. Perhaps orly a successful Australian gold digger would think of choosing such colors for his coat, waistcoat, or trousers ; but there are hundreds of young men who might select them foi their gloves and neck-ties. The deeper colors are, some- how or other, more manly, and are certainly less striking. The same simplicity should be studied in the avoidance of ornamentation. A few years ago it was the fashion to trim the evening waistcoat with a border of gold lace This is an example of fashions always to be rebelled against. Then, too, extravagance in the form of our dress is a sin against taste. I remember that long ribbons took the place of neck-ties some years ago. At an Oxford com- memoration, two friends of mine determined to cut a figure in this matter, having little else to distinguish them. The one wore two yards of bright pink ; the other the same quantity of bright blue ribbok round their necks. I have reason to believe they think now that they both looked su- perbly ridiculous. In the same way, if the trousers are worn wide, we should not wear them as loose as a Turk's; or if the sleeves are to be open, we should not rival the fadies in this matter. And so on through a hundred de- tails, generally remembering that to exaggerate a fctshion IS to assume a character, and therefore vulgar. The wear- ing of jewelry comes under this head. Jewels are an or- aament to women, but a blemish to men. They bespeak dither effeminacy oi a love of display. The hand of a man is honored in working, for labor is his mission; and tha hand that wears its riches on its fingers, has rarely ur learning on the coat-collar, as much as to cry, like httle Jack Horner, " See what a good boy am I !" I eannol for my part, discover why a curate should not carry his silver teapot about with him, or Mr. Morison enlarge his phylacteries with a selection from the one million casef Df " almost miraculous cures." 156 DRESS. The tlresg that is both appropriate and simple can nevci offend, nor render its wearer conspicuous, though it vr.uy distinguish him for his good taste. But it will net he pleasing unless clean and fresh. We cannot quarrel with a poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his linen be puro, and we see that he has never attempted to dress bejon^ Lis means or unsuitably to his station. But the sight oi decayed gentility and dilapidated fashion may call forth our pity, and at the same time prompt a moral: " You have evidently sunken," we say to ourselves ; " but whose fault was it ? Am I not led to suppose that the extrava- gance which you evidently once revelled in has brought you to what I now see you?" While freshness is essen- tial to being well-dressed, it will be a consolation to those who cannot afford a heavy tailor's bill, to reflect that a visible newness in one's clothes is as bad as patches and darns, and to remember that there have been celebrated dressers who would never put on a new coat till it had been worn two or three times by their valets. On the other hand, there is no excuse — except at Donnybrook — for untidiness, holes in the boots, a broken hat, torn gloves, and so on. Indeed, it is better to wear no glovea at all than a pair full of holes. There is nothing to be ashamed of in bare hands if they are clean, and the poor can still afford to have their shirts and shoes mended, and their hats ironed. It is certainly better to show signa of neatness than the reverse, and you need sooner he ashamed of a hole than a darn. Of personal cleanliness I have spoken at such length that little need be said on that of the clothes. If you are economical with your tailor, you can be extravagant with /our laundress. The beaux of forty years back put on LINEN. 157 three sLirts a day, but except in hot weather one is suffix cient. Of course, if you change your dress in the even* ing you must change your shirt too. There has been a groat outcry against colored flannel shirts in the place oi lin:;n, and the man who can wear one for three days is 'o(,lied on as little better than St. Simeon Stylites. I sliould like to know how often the advocates of linen change their 0"5ni \inder-flannel, and whether the same rule does not apply to what is seen as to what is con- cealed. But while the flannel is perhaps healthier as ab- sorbing the moisture more rapidly, the linen has the ad- vantage of looking cleaner, and may therefore be prefer- red. As to economy, if the flannel costs less to wash, it also wears out sooner; but, be this as it may, a man'a wardrobe is not complete without half a dozen or so of these shirts, which he will find most useful, and ten times more comfortable than linen in long excursions, or when exertion will be required. Flannel, too, has the advan- tage of being warm in winter and cool in summer, for, being a non-conductor, but a retainer of heat, it protects the body from the sun, and, on the other hand, shields it from the cold. But the best shirt of all, particularity In winter, is that which wily monks and hermits pre- tended to wear for a penance, well knowing that they could have no garment cooler, more comfortable, or more healthy. I mean, of course, the rough hair-shirt. Like flannel, it is a non-conductor of heat ; but then, too, it icts the part of a sham-pooer, and with its perpetual fric- tion soothes the surface of the skin, and prevents the cir- sulatiDn from being arrested at any one point of the body. Though I doubt if any of my readers will take a hini from the wisdom of the merry anchoritea, thejr will per* 158 DRESS. baps alluw me to suggest that the next best thing to wcai next the jkiu is flanne.^ and that too of the coaisest de*' Bcription. Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevcrthclew it should be fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which v,3 borrowed from the French some four years ago, is a giea* improvement on the old tight wrist-band, and, indeed, it must be borne in mind that anything which binds any part of the body tightly impedes the circulation, and is there- fore unhealthy as well as uHgraceful. Who more hideoua and unnatural than an officer of the Russian or Austrian army — compelled to reduce his waist to a certain size — unless it be a dancing-master in stays ? At Munich, I re- member there was a somewhat corpulent major of the Guards who, it was said, took two men to buckle his belt in the morning, and was unable to speak for about an hour after the operation. His face, of course, was of a most unsightly crimson. The necessity for a large stock of linen depends on a rule far better than Brummell's, of three shirts a day, •riz. : — Change your linen whenever it is at all dirty. This is the best guide with regard to collars, socks, pocket-handkerchiefs, and our under garments. No rule can be laid down for the number we should wear per week^ for everything depends on circumstances. Thus in the eountiy all our linen remains longer clean than in London , n dirty, wet, or dusty weather, our socks get soon dir*j T>d must be changed ; or. if we have a cold, to say nothing of the possible but not probable case of tear-shedding on the departure of friends, or of sensitive young ladies ovei a Crimean engagement, we shall want more than om ESTIMATE OF A WARDROBE. 153 poclet handkerchief per diem. In fact, the last article oi modern civilization is put to so many uses, is so much dis- plaj'cd, and liable to be called into action on so many va- rious engagements, that we should always have a clear 3ne in our pockets. Who knows when it may not servf OS in good stead ? Who can tell how often the corner of the delicate cambric will have to represent a tear which, like diflficult passages in novels, is " left to the imagina- tion." Can a man of any feeling call on a disconsolate widovr^, for instance, and listen to her woes, without at least pulling out that expressive appendage ? Can any one believe in our sympathy if the article in question is a dirty Dne ? There are some people who, like the clouds, only exist to weep ; and King Solomon, though not one of them, has given them great encouragement in speaking of the house of mourning. We are bound to weep with them, and we are bound to weep elegantly. A man Avhose dress is neat, clean, simple, and appro- priate, will pass muster anywhere. But he cannot always wear the same clothes, like Werther. The late Mr. Foun- tayn Wilson, notorious for his wealth and stinginess, thought otherwise. When Napoleon the First was threat- cnino; Eno-land, and there was the same mania for volunteer corps as now, hs bought up an immense quantity of grey cloth, in the hope that the government would give a good price for it later. He was disappointed, and to make use of his purchase, determined to wear nothing else himself for the rest of his life. Future biographers may perhaps inTent a similar story, to account for Lord Brougham's partial ty to checked trousers. A well-dressed man does not require so much an exten> UYG as a varied wardrobe. He wants a different costume 160 DRESS. for every seasoL and every occasion ; but if what he seiccta is simple rather than striking, he may appear in the same clothes as often as he likes, as long as they are fresh and appropriate to the season and the object. There are foui kinds of coats which he must have : a morning-coat, a frock-coat, a dress-coat, and an over-coat. An economical man may do well with four of the first, and one of each of the others per annum. George the Fourth's wardrobe Bold for X15,000, and a single cloak brought no less than £800. But George was a king and a beau, and in debt ^0 his tailor. The dress of an English gentleman in the present day should not cost him more than the tenth part of his income on an average. But as fortunes vary more than position, if his income is large it will take a much flmaller proportion, if small a larger one. But generally 6peaking, a man with .£300 a year should not devote more than £30 to his outward man. The seven coats in ques- tion will cost about X18. Six pairs of morning, and ono jf evening trousers, will cost £9. Four morning waist- coats, and one for evening, make another £4. C/loves, linen, hats, scarves and neck-ties, about £10, and the im- portant item of boots, at least £ 5 more. This, 1 take it, is a suflScient wardrobe for a well-dressed man who imployj a moderate tailor, and the whole is under £50. It is quite possible to dress decently for half that sum, and men of email means should be content to do so. If a mi.u, how- ever, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so, there are some things which are in:]ispensable to oven proper dressing, and every occasion will have its proper attire. In his own house, then, and in the morning, there is DO TQiJBon why he should not wear out his old clothea STrLE IN MORN.NG DRESS. 161 Some men take to the delightful ease of a iresssing-gown and slippers; and if bachelors, thejdo well. If family men, it "will probably depend on whether the lady or the gentle- man wears the pantaloons. The best walking-dress for a non-professional men is a suit of tweed of the same color, ordinary boots, gloves not too dark for the coat, a scarf with a pin in winter, or a small tie of one color in sum- mer, a respectable black hat, and a cane. The last item is perhaps the most important, and though its use varies with fashion, I confess I am sorry when I see it go out. The Englishman does not gesticulate when talking, and in consequence has nothing to do Avith his hands. To put them in his pockets is the natural action, but this gives an appearance of lounging insouciance, or impudent de- termination, which becomes very few men, if any. The best substitute for a walking-stick is an umbrella, not a parasol unless it be given you by a lady to carry. The main point of the walking-dress is the harmony of colors but this should not be carried to the extent of M. de M.alt zan, who some years ago made a bet to wear nothing but pink at Baden-Baden for a whole year, and had boots and gloves of the same lively hue. He won bis wager, but also the soubriquet of " Le Diablo enflamme." The walk- ing dress should vary according to the place and hour. In 'whe country or at the sea-side a straw hat or wide-awake may take the place of the bea\'er, and the nuisance of gloves 1>3 even dispensed with in the former. But in Lon- don, where a man is supposed to make visits as well aa «c>unge in the Park, the frock coat of very dark blue or Dlack, or a black cloth cut-away, the white waistcoat, and Javender gloves, are almost indispensable. Very thin boots should be avoided at all times and whatever clothei 162 DRESS. one wears they sliculd be well brushed. The shirt, whether seen or not. should be quite plain. The shirt col lar siiould never have a color on it, but it may be stiff oi turned down according as the wearer is Byronically or Bruramellicallj^ disposed. The scarf, if simple and of mod' est colors, is perhaps the best thing we can wear round the neck ; but if a neck-tie is preferred it should not be too long, nor tied in too stiff and studied a manner. Brum- mell made his reputation by the knot of his cravat, and even in so tiny a trifle a man may show his taste or \m want of it. The cane should be extremely simple, a mere stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the toAvn not vough, thick, or clumsy ; nor of the style beloved of Cor- poral Shanks of the Fusileers. The frock-coat should be ample and loose, and a tall well-built man may throw it back. At any rate, it should never be buttoned up. Great-coats are so little worn in this country that I need say little about them. If worn at all they should be but toned up, of a dark color, not quite black, longer than the frock coat, but never long enough to reach the ankles. If you have visits to make you should do away with the great-coat, if the weather allows you to do so. On the Continent it is always removed before entering a drawing- room, but not so in England. The frock-coat, or black cut-away, with a white waistcoat in summer, is the best dress for making calls in. It is certainly very hard that a man may not wear what Eio likes^ and that if I have a fancy to grandeur, and a fine pair of shoulders. I may not be allowed to strut along Pall Mall in a Roman toga ; or having lost a. seventeenth •vcusin removed, am forbidden by the laws — at least those of Policeman Z 500, who most certainly would insist ob STYLE lis MORNING DRESS. 16S my " moving on" — to array myself in a paletot of eack- clotli, with a unique head-dress of well-sifted cinders ; but so it is, and if my relatives did not commit me to the walls of some delightful suburban " Retreat," patrcnizcil by Doctor Conolly, and make the toga an excuse for ap propriating my small income, — even if the small boy would let me alone, and I could walk without a band of self-appointed and vociferous retainers, there would still be that terrible monosyllable, snob, to cure me in a mo- ment of a weakness for classical attire, I will not en- lighten you as to the amount of horror I feel at the mere mention of that title ; I will only say that those who do not care whether the title is given them or not, can afford to dress in any style they like. Those who do, on the other hand, must avoid certain articles of attire which are either obsolete or peculiar to a class. Thus unless a man is really a groom, why should he aspire to be like one ? Why should he compress his lower limbs into the very tightest of garments, made for a man of seven feet high, and worn by one of five, necessitating in consequence a peculiar wrinkling from the foot to the knee, which Beems to iSnd immense favor in the eyes of the stable-boy Unless you are a prize-fighter, again, why should you pa- tronize a neck-tie of Waterloo blue with white spots on it, commonly known as the "bird's eye" pattern, and much affected by candidates for the champion's belt. If your lot has not been cast behind the counter of a haberdasher can there be any obvious reason why you should cloth your nether man in a stuff of the largest possible check, and the most vivid colors ? Or if fortune did not select you for a " light" in some sect, or at any rate for the po- iltiou of a small tradesman, can you on any piausibli 164 DRES3. grouruls defena the fact that you are eeen in the morning in a swallow-tail black cloth coat, and a black satin tie? Nay, il" like Mr. Fountayn Wilson, you have been speou* lating in cloth, black instead of grey, and had twenty Ihousand yards on your hands, you must on no considera- tion put any of them on your legs before a certain hour of the evening. Of course you may, if you please, wear jockey trousers, broad patterns, bird's-eye handkerchiefs, tail-coats, and black cloth, at any hour of the day, and in any portion of the civilized world, but it will be under pain and penalty of being dubbed by that terrible mono- syllable, which nothing could induce me to repeat. No, \t must be a shooting coat of any cut or color, or a frock- coat that is dark, or in winter an over-coat, but it may never be a tail-coat, and so on with the rest. You m.ay dress like a bargee, in shorts and grey stockings, like a chimney-sweep in the deepest mourning, like a coster- monger, a coalheaver, a shoeblack, or as M. de INIaltzan did, like " Sa Majeste d'en bas," and you will either br taken for a bargee, chimney-sweep, costermonger, coal- heaver, shoeblack, or demon, or you will be set down as eccentric ; but if, while not discarding your ordinary at- tire, you adopt some portion peculiar to a class below you, you will, I regret to say, be, certainly most uncharitably entitled only a snob. So much for morning dress. It is simple nonsense to talk of modern civilization, ani rejoice that the cruelties of the dark ages can never he perpetrated in these days and this country. I maintain that they are perpetrated freely, generally, daily, with the consent of the wretched victim himself, in the com- pulsion to wear evening clothes. Is there anything a1 lilMB-COV ERS. 165 wnce moiie comfortless or more hideous ? Let us begin with what the clehcate Americans call limb-covers, v/hick wo are told were the invention of the Gauls, but I am in- clined to think, of a much worse race, for it is clearly an anachronism to ascribe the discovery to a Venetian called Piantaleone, and it can only have been Inquisitors or de- mons who inflicted this scourge on the race of man, and his ninth- parts, the tailors, for I take it that both are equally bothered by the tight pantaloon. Let us pause awhile over this unsightly garment, and console ourselves jfith the reflection that as every country, and almosc every fear, has a different fashion in its make of it, we may at last be emancipated from it altogether, or at least be able to wear it a la Turqiie. Whenever I call at a great house, which, as I am a in*iter on etiquette, must — of course — be very often, 1 confess to feeling a most trying insignificance in the pre- ijence of the splendid Mercury who ushers me in. Why r, and the custom of wearing pink under the shirt, are o.n Abomination to party-goers. The glove must be wh te, not yellow. Recently, indeed, a fashion has sprung up of wearing lavender gloves in the evening. They are economical, and as all economy is an abomination, must be avoided. Gloves should always be worn at a ball. At a dinner-party in town they should be worn on entering the room, and drawn off for dinner. While, on the one hand, we must avoid the aAvkwardness of a gallant sea- captain who, wearing no gloves at a dance, excused him- self to his partner by saying, " Never mind. Miss. I can wash my hands when I've done dancing," we have nc need in the present day to copy the Roman gentleman mentioned by Athenseus, who wore gloves at dinner thai he might pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly ttan the bare-handed guests As to gloves at tea-par "ics fend so forth, we are generally safer with than without them. If it is quite a small party, we may leave thp,.»ii in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely ex- pected to be worn ; but " touch noi a cat but with n glove ;" you are always safer with them. BREST, UNDREST. AND MUCU DREST. 169 Not 60 in the matter of the hat. In France and Ger- hmvj f.lie hat is brought into a ball-room and drawing- room undor all circumstances, and great is the confusion arising therefrom, a man having everj chance of finding fcis new hat exchanged for an old one under a seat. 1 cnce walked home from a German ball as bare-headed as B friar, some well-dressed robber having not onlj ex- iChanged his hat with mine, but to prevent detection car- ried oflf his own too. I shall not easily forget the con- sternation in an English party to which I went soon after ui .ibould make him, educate him, give him his own gcoJ feiste. To be well dressed is to be dressed precisely aa the occasion, place, weather, your height, figure, position age, and, remember it, your means require. It is to be clothed without peculiarity, pretension, or eccentricity ; without violent colors, elaborate ornament, or senselesa fashions, introduced often by tailors for their own profit. Good dressing is to wear as little jewelry as possible, to be scrupulously neat, clean, and fresh, and to carry your clothes as if you did not give them a thought. Then too there is a scale of honor among clothes, which must not be forgotten. Thus, a new coat is more hon- orable than an old one, a cut-away or shooting-coat than a dressing-gown, a frock-coat than a cut-away, a dark blue frock-coat than a black frock-coat, a tail-coat than a frock-coat. There is no honor at all in a blue tail-coat, however, except on a gentleman of eighty, accompaniecJ with brass buttons and a buff waistcoat. There is more honor in an old hunting-coat than in a new one, in a uni- form with a bullet-hole in it than one Avithout, in a fus- tian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-coat, because they are types of labor, which is far m.ore honorable than lounging. Again, light clothes are generally placed bove dark ones, because they cannot be so long ■\7orn, nd are therefore proofs of expenditure, alias money, which in this world is a commodity more honored tliajg every other ; but on the other hand, tasteful dress is al« ways more honorable than that which has only cost much 172 DRESS. Liijht gloves arc more esteemed than dark ones, and th« pnnce of glove-colors is undeniably lavender. '■ I should say Jones was a fast man," said a friend to Qie one day, " for he wears a white hat." If this idea 0/ fny Gorapanion's be right, fastness may be said to consirt Q-;ainly in peculiarity. There is certainly only one step from the sublimity of fastness to the ridiculousness of snob- berry, and it is not always easy to say where the one enda a,nd the other begins. A dandy, on the other hand, is the clothes on a man, not a man in clothes, a living lay figure who displays much dress, and is quite satisfied if you praise it without taking heed of him. A bear is in the opposite extreme ; never dressed enough, and always very roughly; but he is almost as bad as the other, for he sacrifices everything to his ease and comfort. The off-hand style of dress only suits an off-hand character. It was at one time the fashion to affect a certain negligence, which was called ■poetic, and suppc sed to be the result of genius. An ill- tied, if not positively untied cravat was a sure sign of an unbridled imagination : and a waistcoat was held together by one button only, as if the swelling soul in the wearer'? bosom had burst all the rest. If in addition to this the hair was unbrushed and curly, you were certain of passing for a " man of soul." I should not recommend any young gentleman to adopt this style, unless indeed he can mouth 1 great deal, and has a good stock of quotations from the poets. It is of no use to show me the clouds, unless I can p'Caitively see you in them, and no amount of negligence ii, your dress and person will convince me you are a ge liiu3, unless you produce an octavo volume of poems pub- lished by yourself. I confess I am glad th it the nlglig^ ityle, 80 common in novels of ten years back, has been STYLES OF DRESS. 17 J Bucceeded by neatness. What we want is real ease ii tlia clothes, and for mj part I should rejoice to see the Knick- erbocker style generally adopted. Besides the ordinary occasions treated of before, there re several special occasions requiring a change of dress ]>Iost of our sports, together with marriage (which some people include in the sports), and going to court, come tinder this head, Now with the exception of the last, the less change we make the better in the present day, par- ticularly in sports, where, if we are dressed with scrupu- lous accuracy, we are liable to be subjected to a compari- son between our clothes and our skill. A man who wear? a red coat to hunt in, should be able to hunt, and not sneak through gates or dodge over gaps. Of wedding- dress and court-dress we shall speak in separate chapters under the heads of " Marriage" and " The Court." But a few remarks on dresses worn in different sports may be useful. Having laid down the rule that a strict accuracy of sporting costume is no longer in good taste, we can dis^ miss shooting and fishing at once, with the warning that we must not dress well for either. An old coat with large pockets, gaiters in one case, and, if necessary, large boott n the other, thick shoes at any rate, a wide-awake, and a well-filled bag or basket at the end of the day, make up a most respectable sportsman of the lesser kind. Then for cricket you want nothing more unusual than flannel trousers, which should be quite plain, unless your club had idopted some colored stripe thereon, a colored flannel lliirt of no very violent hue, the same colored cap, shoes witl spikes in them, and a great coat. lor hunting, lastly, you have to make more change, if jDly to insure your own comfort and safety Thus cord 174 DBESS. breecbcB and some kind of boots are indispensable. Ho are spurs, so a hunting-whip or crop ; so too, if y3u do not wear a hat, is the strong round cap that is to savp your valuable skull from cracking if you are thrown on your head. Again, I should pity the man who would at- tempt to hunt in a frock-coat or a dress-coat ; and a scarf with a pin in it is much more convenient than a tie. But beyond these you need nothing out of the common way, but a pocketful of money. The red coat, for instance, La only worn by regular members of a hunt, and boys from Oxford who ride over the hounds and like to display their *' pinks." In any case you are better with an ordinary riding-coat of dark color, though undoubtedly the red i? prettier in the field. If you 2vill wear the latter, see that it is cut square, for the swallow-tail is obsolete, and worn only by the fine old boys w^ho '' hunted, sir, fifty years ago, sir, when I was a boy of fifteen, sir. Those i/;e;-e hunting days, sir ; such runs and such leaps." Again, your " cords" should be light in color and fine in quality your waistcoat, if with a red coat, quite light too ; your Bcarf of cashmere, of a buff color, and fastened with a araall simple gold pin ; your hat should be old, and your cap of dark green or black velvet, plated inside, and with a small stiff peak, should be made to look old. Lastly, for a choice of boots. The Hessians are more easily cleaa- ed, and therefore less expensive to keep; the " tops" are CiOre natty. Brummell, who cared more for the hunting dress than the hunting itself, introduced the fashion of pipe-claying the tops of the latter, but the old originau " mahoganies," of which the upper leathers are simply polished, seem to be coming into fashion again. We shall now pass to a subject which, in every respect HUNTING-COSTUME. 175 b a much largei and more delicate one ; larger in th» space it covers in the surface of the globe ; larger in the number of items which go to make it up ; larger in tho expenditure it demands ; and larger in the respect of the attention paid to it. K it takes nine tailors to make a man, it must surelj require nine women to make a diorough milliner CHAPTER [V. lady's dress. FiR frorfl l>3ixig of the opinion expressed by Cutkarloc of Arragon, that "dressing time is murdered time," the woman, we are apt to think, who has not some natural taste in dress, some love of novelty, some delight in the combination of colors, is deficient in a sense of the beauti- fiil. As a work of art, a well dressed woman is a study. That a love of dress is natural in woman, and that it has some great aivantages, is so plain as to be scarcely worth recording. It does not follow that it should engrosa every other taste ; it is only the coquette's heart, which, as Addison describes it, is stuffed with "aflame-colored hood." From the days of Anne Boleyn, who varied her dress every day, and who wore a small kerchief over her round neck to conceal a mark thereon, and a falling sleeve to hide her doubly-tipped little finger, dress has had ita place in the heart of Englishwomen. And it is as well that it should do so ; for the dowdy, be she young or be she old, is sure to hear of her deficiencies from her hus- band, if she has not already done so from brothers and fancy cousins. Indifference and consequent inattention to dress often show pedantry, self-righteousness, or indolence ; and whilst extolled by the " unco gude" as a virtue, may be noted as a defect. Every woman should, habitually, make the best of herself We dress out our receiving rooms with natural flowers ; are their inmates to look in- (176) THE LOVE OF DRESS. 171 eonsiBtent with the drawing room over which they preside ! We make our tables gorgeous, or at all events seemly, with silver, glass and china; wherefore should our wives be less attractive than all around them ? Amongst tin rich and great, the love of dress promotes some degree of exertion and display of taste in themselves, and fosters in- genuity and industry in inferiors ; in the middle classei it engenders contrivance, diligence, neatness of hand; among the humbler it has its good effects. But in thua giving a love of dress its due, the taste, the consistency, and the practicability of dress are kept in view ; the de» votion to dress which forms, in France, a " Science apart," and which occupies, it must be allowed, many, too many an Englishwoman's head, is not only selfish, but contemp- tible. So long as dress merely interests, amuses, occupies only such time as we can reasonably allot to it, it is salu- tary. It prevents women from indulging in sentiment ; it is a remedy for maladies imaginaires ; it somewhat re- fines the tastes and the habits, and gives satisfaction and pleasure to others. Besides, an attention to dress is almost requisite in the present state of society ; a due influer.ce in which cannot be attained without it. It is useful, too, as retaining, even in the minds of sensible men, that pride in a wife's appearance which is so agreeable to her, and which mate- rially fades during the gradual decay of personal attrac- tions. " No one looked better than my wife did to-night" is % sentence which one often rejoices to hear from th lips of an honest hearted English husband, after a party or a ball, how much soever we may doubt the soundness of his decision. But whiliit the alvantagcs of a love of dress are ad 178 LADY'S DRESS. mitted, how mournfully we approach a consiJeraticn of its perils. A love of dress, uncontrolled, stimulated bj coquetry and personal vanity until it cancels every right principle, becomes a temptation first and then a curae Not to expatiate upon the evils it produces in the way of example, the envy an undue passion for and excess in drea excites, the extortionate class of persons in the shape of milleners and dressmakers it unduly enriches, and the enormous expenses it is known to lead to when indulged criminally, that is, to the detriment of better employments, and beyond the compass of means, let us remember how it implies selfishness and vanity, and causes remonstrances and often reproaches from the person most likely to sufiei from his wife's indulgencies — her husband. Analyze the bill of a fashionable milliner when the dresses, of which it comprises a fabulous reckoning, are even only half worn out. What gauzes, and odds and ends of lace, and trimmings, useless after a night or two's wear, and flouncings and furbelows and yards of hdle il- lusion it enumerates ! Tulle illusion, indeed ! all is il- lusion ! and yet for this a husband's income is charged, often at an inconvenience, or a wife's allowance encum- bered, or angry words engendered, or the family credit impeached ; and, worse than all, charity and even justice must be suppressed, on account of this claim from a mil- liner as remorseless as she is fashionable, for these twc points are generally in the same ratio. Then there ig another evil ; it has been found that the indulgence in pcrs)nal luxury in women has an injurious effect on the mcr tk\ tone. It is in some natures the first symptom, if not the cause, of a relaxation in virtue ; at all events it in often mistaken for such. A woman of simple habits, aa trXURI AND EXTRAVAGANCE. ITiJ fioupanied with nicety and good taste, rarelj goes wrong ut any rate is rarelj supposed to do so. Luxury in dress at first an indulgence, becomes a necessity : discontent, a sense of humiliation, and a yearning for what cannot be had, are the effects of that withdrawal of the power of extravagance which so often happens in this changing and commercial country. We used to p(nnt to America as the country in which excessive dress was a reproach ; the rich silks, the foreign lace, the black satin shoes, and the decolUe evening dress of the fair inhabitants of New York, even in Broadway, are themes of comment to us all. We used to wonder at the French dame du fiionde, who gives six hundred pounds for her set of winter sables. Instances are not wanting, either, in Vienna and Bavaria, of ladies who spend seven or eight hundred a year on dress, independent of jewelry. It is remarked in Paris, that habits of hzxe in every shape, but especially in dress, have come in with the present ;-e- ffirne. The old Legitimist families, though habitually and innately studious in dress, prided themselves on their ele- ^nt simplicity, as distinguishing them from bourgeoisie The Court of Louis Philippe was remarkable for its home- liness ; and the Queen and the Duchess of Orleans se an example of a noble superiority to the vanities of life. Few carriages were kept, comparatively ; and where la- dies cannot have carriages, they must dress plainly in the streets. But with the marriage of Louis Napoleon, tho Empress has, probably without intending it, been the originator of extreme richness and variety in dress ; and the contamination has spread to England. Never diJ women require so much. Every lady, and even every lady's maid, must now have her petticoats edged with 180 lady's dress. work. The cost of pocket-handkerchiefs is soinjtliDji marvellous ; the plain fine cambric, than which nothjofi is more appropriate or more agreeable, is only fit for uui inferiors. Cuffs, collars, jabots, chemisettes, are a genui that half ruin a lady of moderate means. Until lately flounces went into such extremes that it required twenty or two-and-twenty yards to make a dress for the wife of a hard working physician or lawyer ; but, happily, the ex- cess has cured itself France, in returning good sense, now decrees that everything shall be plain. Trimmings, that snare to the unwary, out of which dressmakers made fortunes, and husbands lost them, are put down. How long this salutary change may continue no one can tell ; but a woman of sense should be superior to all these va- riations. She should keep within the bounds of the fashion. Sho should not dress out that perishable piece of clay with money wrung from the hands of an anxious, laborious husband ; or taken, if her husband be a man of fortune, from his means of charity. The proportion of what amongst the great we call pin- money, and amongst their inferiors an allowance for dress, is a very difficult matter to decide. Consistency, in regard to station and fortune, is the first matter to be considered. A lady of rank, the mother of three beautiful, ill-fated daughters, is reported "to be able to do" with two thou- 3and a year for dress ! A monstrous sum ; a monstroua Bin 93 to spend it ! When we look into the details of a recent bankruptcy case, in which the items of the famoui Miss Jane Clark's bills for the dresses of two fashionable, and we must add most blamable, women were exposed, the secret of these enormous sums for dress is revealed. It consists in reckless orders, and their results, fabuloua ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 181 prices, A lady once followed the late excellent Princess Augusta into the rooms of a Court milliner. Having waited until that illustrious lady had retired, it was tim: for the humbler customer to make her selection. She asked the price of a dress, apologizing therefor, for she was much impressed by the r«yal and dignified aspect which had pre- ceded her. " Don't make any apology, ma'am," was the Court milliner's exclamation ; " her Royal Highness never orders an article without asking the price ; and I always like to receive ladies who ask prices ; it shows that the^ intend to pay." The cost therefore of dress depends so much on the pru dence as well as on the discrimination of a lady, for she should know how to choose her dress, that it is diflicult tc lay down any rule of expenditure. For married womet of rank, five hundred a year ought to be the maximum ; a hundred a year the minimum (and there are many peers who cannot easily afford to give their wives even so much). The wives of ministers, and more especially of diplomatists, who require to appear frequently either in foreign courts, or in our own, may require five hundred, or even more, though I am persuaded very few of our ambassadorial ladies have so much to spend. With regard to unmarried women, what a revolt amongst them there would be if old Lord Eldon were now alive tc lay downj as he did, as a maxim, that forty pounds a yeai was enough for any girl not of age, even if she had large expectations ; and that was all he allotted to a ward of Chancery whc was heiress to five thousand a year. I) was, perhaps, too little. In a trial, in which a celebrated barrister, who had an extravagant wife, was sued for dress* makers' bills for his reckless spcuse, the judge stated thai 182 lady's dress, sixty pounds a year was an ample allo-wance for the wife of a professional man, and beyond that bills could not be recovered. That was essential : more was extravagance. Certainly these legal authorities were moderate in theii yiews ; especially as no women are so extravagant — none so luxurious, generally, as thoTNives of successful barristers. The Times, whose range and power seem to resemble the elephant's trunk that can pick up a pm or crush a man, in a late sensible and amusing " leader," made a remark which will comfort struggling professional men, and, gen- erally, be thankfully received by all who need some au- thority to aid in keeping the milliner's bill within lue bounds. It was simply to the eflfect that a tasteful, care- ful lady, with the start of a moderately good trousseau, ought (and many do) to make twenty pounds a year suffice for the dress of herself and children during the first few years of married life, and this without any compromise of respectability. Much, however, depends on management , much on the care taken of dress. In these respects the French are in- finitely our superiors. Even the grandes dames of Paris are not intimidated by their maids into throwing away a half-worn dress ; on the contrary, everything is turned to account. On entering the apartment of a couturUre one day, a lady was struck by the elegance of ribbon trimming on a court- train. The couturier e smiled, and pointed to an old dress from which the still unsoiled ribbon had been taken. This was to be the dress, and the lady saw it the next night at the Tuileries, and knew it at once ; In this the sister of a Due and Mar^'chal of France, herself a Countess, appeared. We should find it impossible to get :iny mantua- maker to perform such an act of virtuous econ ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 183 fln^ in favor of an English customer. Tic due cere of dress is also a great point towards a reasonable economy. In Eno;land, ladies think it becomino; their di^nitv to b< indifferent to the preservation of their dresses wheii on. In France the reverse is carried to an excess. ' 1 mce followed," said a ladj, " a French lady in her carriage, M we both went to the same party. Her dress was composed of an exquisite tulle, with puffings of the same light ma- terial. She stood up in her carriage the whole way, for fear of crushing it." Whatever may be thought of this over-care of the dres? in the higher classes, the habit of conservativeness is of vast importance to wo^en in the middle class, and yet, strange to say, it is less common in them than among the greai. Old families are mostly conservative of personali- ties ; it is a remarkable feature in them, and to it we owe those relics of times long gone by, which, had they been new in the present day, would have been deemed scarcely worth the presf rvation. But whilst tec much cannot be said against extravagance and destructive ness, it must also be stated, under the head of the minor virtues, the wonderful art some people have of making a good appearance on small means. " A man's appearance," says the good, old-fishioned, sensible Sper- tator^ " falls within the censure of every one that sees him ; his parts and learning very few are judges of" So in regard to women. No stranger knows the heart that beats beneath an ill-made gown, or the qualities of head that lie hidden beneath a peculiar old-fashioned, or hideous cap. A woman may be an angel of goodness, a Minerva in wisdom, a Diana in morals, a Sappho in seniimeut, yci if she wears a soiled dress where all around are in noM 184 LADY'S DRESS. and fresh dresses, or has an ill arranged bonnet or bead* dress, esteem, even aflection, will not resist a smile or a Bio"h ; and the mere ac(|uaintance will have ever^ tight tt jeer at what seems to imply an ignorance of the habits of good society. Next in injury to her who practises extravagance of dress, is extravagance in fashion. From the middle agei the English ladies have been bad dressers. Witness Queen Mary when married to Philip ii. of Spain, spoiling the effect of a superb wedding-dress, in the French style, by wearing a black scarf and scarlet shoes, which, it has been sarcastically observed, was worse than burning Protestants. During the last century head-dresses rose to a stupendous height, each lady carrying on her head a tower composed of a cushion, on which the hair was drawn back, and clubbed or rolled on the top of the neck. On this fabric were arranged feathers, flowers, pearls dangling in loops, rib- bons, and old point lace. Sometimes a tiny mob-cap was stuck on one side ; the whole was so immense that even the huge family coaches were too small, and the ladies usually sat with their heads hanging out of the windoAV of the car- riage. Powder was a main ingredient, and hair-dressing wa« indeed a science. On great occasions the hair-dresser waited on our fair ancestresses betimes ; belabored their tresses with the powder-puff, and, with what looked like the end of a candle, a pomatum-stick, until no trace of nature could peep out to mar the belle. Then he placed tlie cushion, sticking it on with long pins of wire ; next he struck here and there the bows, or feathers, or flowers. After an hour's torture, in which neither back must be bent, nor head moved, he left her, not to repose, but to sit M if in a rice until the patches or niouches were stuck oe EXTRAVAGANCE IN FASHION. 18S skilfully ; the tight corsets drawn to an agony point ; th« pointed and heeled shoes put on over tlie well-pricked sili stocking; and the dress that could have stood alone, eoon- posed over a fortification of strong whale-bone that sprung out a great circumference, being a series of bands, regu- lated by a spring, aud constituting that great feature of full dress — the hoop. In Paris, there was a champion of low heads in the person of a Swiss, who, not being able to see over these turrets of heads at the grande opera, used to cut away, as one does at evergreens, right aud left, in order to clear away the view. At last, the ladies, in dismay, and alarm- ed at his scissors, gave him up a front place ; but, even- tually, the ridicule thus cast on the mode banished it, or helped to do so, and a less absurd coiffure came into vogue The art of placing patches on the face and neck wjis of earlier origin, and came in during the reign of Charles il. It was of French origin ; and Henrietta of Orleans, the sister of the King, was amongst the first to display mouchea or patches at court. This time even Mrs. Pepys was per- mitted by her husband to wear them ; and the vanity of the ci-deva?it tailor spoke forcibly in these words : — " The Princess Henrietta is very pretty ; but my wife, standing near her, with two or three black patches on, and well- dressed, still seems to me much handsomer than she." Patches long held their reign ; and went out only with rouge, having even survi^vjd the reign of powder. At length a more natural taste dawned in England ; ba it was reserved for Mrs. Siddons first to appear on the Bt!!»ge without powder, and her o\\ n rich dark hair arrangeery chav^rj, the lady. Some of our ladies of rank, it IKUSt be allowul, though maintaining well the characteris- tics of grajid*,^ dames in society, are negligent in tlieii walking dress,, and seem to consider that it is only neces- sary to put on tli?ir dignity when they dress for dinner. For the country, ihe attire should be tasteful and solid and strong. The Hianet may still, though plain, and per- haps of straw or wHlebone, be becoming. The hat, now BO prevalently used, admits of some decoration, that gives both character and elegance. Worn almost universally on the Continent in summer, and now in England, it is the most sensible as well as the most picturesque covering for the head ; long feathers, even in the most tranquil scenes, are not inappropriate. Cloaks, of a light material for sum- "Dtier, and stout in the winter, are more elegant and suita- Dle than shawls, which belong rather to the carriage or visiting dress. One point of dress has been much amend- ed lately, owing to the good sense of our Queen. It was formerly thought ungenteel to wear anything but thin Morocco shoes, or very slight boots in walking Cloga and goloshes were necessarily resorted to. " The genteel disease," as Mackenzie calls it, has. however, yielded to the remedies of example. Victoria has assumed the Bal moral petticoat, than which, for health, comfort, warmth And effect, no invention was ever better. She has coura- gtK)usly accompanied it with the Balmoral boot, and even with the mohair aud colored stocking. With these, and the warm cloak, the looped dresses, the shady hat, and, to FULL DINNER DRESti 197 cojtiplete a country walking dress, soft gloves of the kind termed gants de svcle, the high born lodj maj onjoy the privileges -which her inferiors possess — she may take a good walk with pleasure and safety, and not shiver at the ai'pect of a muddy lane. Next, in the description of a lady's dress, comes th carriage, or visiting dr«ss. This should be exceedingly handsome ; gayer in color, richer in texture than the morning dress at home. The bonnet may either be aa simple as possible, or as rich ; but it must not encroach upon that to be worn at a fete, a flower-show, or a morn- ing concert. It must still be what the French call " un ohapeaii de fatigue. ^^ A really good shawl, or a mantle Vfimmed with lace, are the concomitants of the carriage, or J* visitino; dress in winter. In summer all should be light, lool, agreeable to think of, pleasant to look at. Nothing can be in worse taste than to keep on, till it makes one feverish to look at it, the warm clothing of winter after winter and even spring have passed away. Then light scarfs, of which those worn in muslin are very elegant, delicate muslins, slight silks, and grenadines, are infinite- ly more suitable, although they are less expensive, to sum- mer and its bright hours than the heavy artillery of cashmeres and velvets, be they ever so handsome. The ordinary evening costume at home admits of great taste and becomingness. In some great houses it difFera little from that assumed at large dinner-parties, except that ornaments are less worn. In France, the high dress is still worn at dinners, even those of full dress. In Eng- land, that custom, often introduced, never becomes gene- ral ; there is no doubt but that a low dress is by far the most becoming, according to age, complexion, and the styh 198 lady's dress. q/" the house — a point always to be taken into c«j^8icler*- tion. Yet I shouUl restrict this to dinners bj candle-liglit In summer a thin high dress, at any rate, is more con- venient and more modest. Since there is something in Dxposing the bare shoulders and arms to the glare of day, that startles an observer, the demie toilette of the French may here be well applied. The hair should now be fully dressed, and with care ; flowers may be worn by the young ; caps with flowers by the elder ; ornaments, espe- cially bracelets, are not inconsistent ; the dress should be of a texture that can beai inspection, not flimsy and inex- pensive, but good, though not heavy. The same rulea may be applied to the ordinary costume in an evening at home, except that the texture may be lighter. For all these occasions a lady of rank and fortune should have her separate dresses. She should not wear out her old ball or dinner dresses by her fireside and in intimate cir- cles. They always have a tawdry, miserable look. She should furnish herself with a good provision for the demie toilette. Nothing is so vulgar as finery out of place. The full dinner-dress, in England, admits, and indeed, in the present days of luxury, demands great splendor. The dress may be blue, silver-grey, crimson, maize, lav- ender, or (but rare) very pale green ; pink is suitable alone to balls ; it may be of any thick texture of silk in vogue ; but in the fashion it must be. The dinner dressea that last for ever are detestable. Trimmings of Srussela lace, or of Mechlin, or of Maltese, are preferable to blonde or tulle, which are for balls and soirees. The dress should be made in the newest fashion ; therefore no rule can be set down, except that for sta.e dinners it should be long, wad fresh, and sweeping. At large dinners, diamond! FULL DINNER DRESS. 199 may be -worn, but only in a brooch, or jDendai.t from the throat ; a full suite of diamonds is suitable to very full dress alone. The same rule applies to emeralds, but not to ] .earls. Rows of pearls, confined by a diamond snap, iro beautiful in every dress. They suit either the dcml* i'jilefte, or the stately solemn dinner. If flowers be worn they should be of the very choicest ; ladies have so much 'me to examine and to criticise after dinner, that too much care of minutiae cannot be taken ; if but a rose, it 'should be from the very first hand. The fan, to be con- sistent, should also be first-rate ; it may be old, and paint- ed after the manner of the exquisite fans in France, for which one pays as high as twenty pounds ; or it may be a mere invention of the day ; but it must be perfect in its way. Nothing is so inimical to appearance as an ill- made or soiled glove. There is such a wonderful mixture of economy and prodigality in the highest classes of En- glish society, that it is not uncommon to see ladies, re- 6plendent in jewelry, with dirty gloves : in France, to which we have, in all ages, looked as to a model, such a barbarism could never occur. Every trifle in a lady's costume is perfect. She would rather go out in a shabby gown than in a collar of false lace, or with dirty gloves, or begrimed white satin shoes. It is not so in England; 'adies Avho spend pounds upon a cap or a scarf, will hesi- tate before they put on a clean pair of gloves. Dinner- parties are so often the prelude only, in London, to the festivities of the evening, that no strict rules as to drcaa can be set down. Generally speaking, there is a great tiifference between the dinner-dress and that of the ball. A concert, on the other hand, or the opera, requires onlj the head to be somewhat more adorned than at a dinner 200 LADY S DRESS. and yet there was a fashion, several years since, of ap- pearing even at the Italian opera in the simple toiictto of a small dinner party. The sortie da bed, or short eve- ning cloak, is one of the best modern suggestions for the health, and even appearance, of those who attend public places or enter into gay society. It should be of white merino, not of scarlet, which spoils the effect of the wreath of flowers. All complicated trimmings are inconsistent ; but the same rule of perfect freshness and cleanliness in respect to gloves is applicable to the so7-tie du bul. I am Borry to say it is v^iolated every night : rows of ladies are to be seen with resplendent gems in their hair, waiting for their carriages, in sorties du bed that are almost gray from the effects of London smoke. The striking relief and the contrast produced by one or two clean and fresh cloaks of this description is quite singular, and proves the truth of the above recommendation. And here let us marvel against the wonderful misplaced economy that will not permit an English lady to indulge in a new sortie du bal " this season," whilst she is, at the same time, lavishing Bums upon all the endless et ceteras which Englishwomen of the nineteenth century cannot do without. At one of the most brilliant balls at the Hotel de Villa in Paris, an order was given for the company, who were to be numbered on that occasion by thousands, to wait m relays on the grand staircase leading to the receptir n ooras, until a certain hour of the night or rather morn wg. This order was to prevent a rush to the carriagea, and the danger incident to such a concourse wishing tu leave at the same time. The ladies sat for an hour oi more on that ample and matchless staircase, to the right of which was the artificial pool of water, surrounded by BALL DRESSINO 20 p'ants, anl lighted bj lamps, amid which the spray of a fountain cast up crystal drops, which fell dimpling iuto the watei again. The light played upon the white cup of a large water-lily in the miniature pool, and the scene was at once remarkable and brilliant. As 1 looked around from the bottom of the stairs, and about, I could see many pale and weary faces, but not one dirty sortie dii bal. all here as fresh, as clear, as snowy white as if new only that day ; some lined with cherry color ; others with blue ; a few with amber ; most with white. Even after all the festivities were over, a Frenchwoman, if she could not look well, was resolved to look clean. Ball-dressing requires less art than the nice gradations of costume in the dinner costume, and small evening party dress. For a ball, everything even in married women may be light, somewhat fanciful and airy. What arc called good dresses seldom look well. The heavy, richly- trimmed silk, is only appropriate to those who do not dance j (5ven for such, as much effect should be given to those dresses as can be devised. Taste, ingenuity, style, are here most requisite. Since the fashions continually al- ter, there is no possibility of laying down specific rules ; the dress, however, for the married, and for the unmar- ried lady of rank or of fortune, shouM be distinctly mark- ed. For the married lady moire dresses, either trimmed ^ith lace, or tulle and flovers, or white silk — no othei color in plain silk looks well — or thin dresses over whit( fiatin, an article which is happily coming into fashioi again, are most suitable. Diamonds on the head neck, arms, she may wear ; but the decoration of the dress with tliera should be reserved for court-balls, and for court Formerly wlien diamonds were worn, flowers were either 9* 202 lady's dress. considered unnecessary, or even inconsistent; now thej sire frequently intermingled. Small feathers are evon worn at balls; and, for the married, produce peihaj^ more effect than any other coiffure ; but they are wholic jut of fashion on a young lady's head. The unmarr:e<.i, indeed, so long as they continue young, will best consul their own good looks by as much simplicity as is consist ent with fashion. In Paris no ornaments, with the ex- ception, perhaps, of a single bracelet, are allowed to the ieune fille ; her dress must be white ; the flowers in her bair white also. To these general rules there are excep- tions, but the appearance of a Frcncli bull is that of spot- less white ; far different to the full colors often worn m England. White tulle over white silk (or white lace), and bou "^dets of flowers, corresponding to the guii'lande or cii- chepenie on the head, are the favorite dress of the young lady. A panire of flowers, consisting of two flowera mingled, is elegant ; for instance, the rose and heliotrope, the parwe forming the wreath which extends down the fikirt ; or, of white flowers, the acacia, — of blue, the my- osotis, — of green, the maidenhair fern ; these are all ex- quisite ornaments. Even the large white lily forms a beautiful panire. The French always make use of the flowers in season, but we English are less scrupulous. A young lady will wear a wreath of lilies of the val'.ey mixed with roses, in the depth of the winter ; holly and berries in June ; scarlet geraniums in spring. Large daisies are alao liable to suggest ludicrous ideas. " That lady's dresa wants mowing," said a wag, looking at a be.iutiful calle dress, covered with white daisies with flaring yellch cen- tres. THE HEAD-DRESS. 203 Nothing, however, forms a more beautifux Lead-dress than natural flowers, carefully mounted. The French have a great art of mounting flowers on wire, and inan^ of their ladies'-maids learn it ; some of the ladies excel in it themselves. For country balls and fetes, the effect is lovely • and the perpetual variety obtained a source of that Bur])rise and novelty which add so much to the effect pro- duced by dress. The flowers should be neatly and firmly stuck upon wires. Variegated geraniums, and all the white varieties only, answer well ; white camellias (the red are too heavy), parti-colored carnations, the rose Devoniensis, large white lilies, are all suitable to hairs of various shades. A. parure of ivy is elegant — but it has become common ; m spring, the scarlet ranunculus has a rich effect ; in win- ter, the hellebore or Christmas rose is very appropriate. There is one of the carnival balls at Munich, in which tho custom of wearing natural flowers is almost des rigueiirs ; it is on Shrove-Tuesday. Since in that severe climate it is difficult to obtain natural flowers in perfection, the wreaths are ordered in Paris, and are articles of great ex- pense. On seeing them beside even the most exquisite ar- tificial wreaths, the effect is striking ; every tint in thf latter has a want of that transparency which, in the nat- ural flowers, is owing to the minute and almost invisible globules of water in the petals beneath the cuticle. The richest hues pall before the inimitable coloring of nature Amongst the garnitures on one occasion, that of the Queen of Bavaria was pre-eminently beautiful. She Avoie on hex head a wreath of natural roses ; in the centr; of each rose hung a diamond dew-drop. Her dress was white, trimmed down on either side with single roses, encircled with » single row of diamonds each, as if the dew hung round 204 lady's dress. the petals ; in the centre was the diamond-dew jrop. This beloved and beautiful princess, now, bj marriage, tlio firat cousin of the Princess Royal of England, always super- intends the arrangements of her own ball dresses, her taste is exquisite, and the ingenuity with which she varie*» her costumes is remarkable. As ladies advance in life, the ball-room seems scarce Ij to be their province ; but since many of them are obliged to be chaperons, the style of dress most becoming person- ally and also most consistent with that character, should be considered. Many persons think that it little matters what a middle-aged lady wears, so long as she looks neat and respectable, and displays a sufficient amount of expen- sive lace, diamonds, and so many ells of unexceptionable silk or satin. I am not of that opinion ; as long as a face is a face fit to present itself to society, so long should good taste carefully preserve the fast-fading attractions, not by art and cosmetics, or false curls, or roses round a sallow brow, or the lilies of the field, which are appropri- ate to youth alone, but by an arrangement of cap or head- dress that is becoming to the poor old ruins ; just as we like to see the mantling ivy clustering, and say how greatly it adds to the beauty of the old devastated fort or chapel. Under the head of festive occasions^ the court dresa must not bo admitted. This costume consists, first, of an entire dress, gener- ally made of some plain but costly silk. The dress, therefore, forms one component part ; next comes the petticoat, usually of some lighter material ; and lastly, the train. The dress is made, even for elderly ladies, low ; and the boddice is trimmed in accordance with the petticoat antj the train. COURT-DRESS. 205 The petticoat is now usually formed of rich Brusseli lace, or of Honiton lace, or tulle ; and often looped uj with flowers. The train is of the richest material of the whole dresa r srmerlj it was often of satin ; now it is of moire or glact ilk, though satin is again beginning to be worn. It fastens half round the waist, and is about seven yarda in length, and wide in proportion. It is trimmed all round with lace, in festoons, or on the edge, with bunchea of flowers at intervals, and is lined usually with white Bilk. The petticoat is ornamented with the same lace as the train, sometimes in flounces, sometimes in pufiings oi bouffbns of tulle, sometimes en tahliei\ that is, down either side. The boddice and sleeves are all made in strict unifor- mity with the train and petticoat. The head-dress consists of feathers, and comprises a lappet of lace, hanging from either side of the head down flearly to the tip of the boddice. Diamonds or pearls, or any other jewelry sufiiciently handsome, may be worn in the hair, but the two former are most frequently adopted. The same ornaments should be worn on the boddice around the neck and arms. The shoes should be of white satin, and trimmed ac- cording to fashion. The fan should be strictly a dress fen ; those spangled are the most suitable for a costume which requires everything to be as consistent as possible with the occasion. Having thus treated of the drosses suited to the house and to all festive occaaioiia, thei'e remamh: -^ly ^ ridinjt> drete to men^iw iOQ LADr s DKEsa 111 this particular several changes have been made during the last two or three years. The round hat, of masculine appearance, is almost always exchanged for a slouched hat, sometimes of a round form, and turned up round the brirr — sometimes turned up on either side, and coming wiih i, point low down upon the forehead — and sometimes thieo- cornered : all these different forms have their votaries ; but it must be acknowledged that the more simple and modest the shape, the more becoming. Formerly, the neat round hat, masculine in its form, was unembellished by even a bow ; but now, a long, sweep- ing feather on one, and sometimes on both sides, sets oflf the riding-hat. The color of the feather is varied, but is usually black or brown, like the hat. The feather, it may here be remarked, should be full, well-curled, long and firm, not thin and weak, as if taken from an ostrich in a moulting condition. In winter, the hat should be of felt of a soft kind; pliable and durable ; in summer, of a fine straw. It is not wise to get a hat made by an inferior hand. The style constitutes the grace, and renders it either a most becoming or a most tawdry feature in the riding-dress. And here let us remark on the great benefit of these slouching hats to the complexions Avhich have so materially suffered of late years from small bonnets and round hats. Health, with delicacy^ is the true charm of feminine physique, and, as far as a riding costume is con cerned, nothing secures the freshness of the face bette.' ban the slouched hat. It is cool, and permits the free circulation of air around the face, while it protects tno eyes, the forehead, and almost the chin, frcm scorching heat or withering blasts. "finally, as far as regards hats, let a hint be thrown oat RIDING-DRESS. 201 repressing the eccentricities of a fantastic taste : The art of riding is in itself conspicuous enough. A ladj decked out in that position approaches the mountebank rider from Astley's or Franconi's. Her costume may be elegant od »]] occasions without being outre. The moment her taste degenerates so as to produce a sinking effect, she may b sure she is making a mistake, and nowhere so fatally as on horseback. We must acknowledge that the change in riding-hata ha3 another good effect. The lady equestrian cannot now be called masculine. " Bist ein Mann oder eine Mad- Bchen ?" cried out a number of little Rhenish boys as a young lady galloped through a village near Diisseldorf. The Spectato?' has a sharp article on the ambiguous ap- pearances of these Amazons, as he styles them ; and in fact in the last century, when scarlet riding-habits were often worn, it must have been diflBcult on the riding-field to have distinguished a lady from a gentleman ; but now there is something picturesque, stylish, and inconsistent in the modern slouching hat, the sweeping feather, and be- neath them the rich clusters of hair bagged, and so con- fined in a net of black chenille. The habit has sustained some changes, and, as far as ap- pearance is concerned, not for the better. It used to be invariably tight, well-shaped, with close sleeves. It is now often made loose, with deep cuffs, or, if worn tight, a loose jacket, or casaque, can be put over it — an advantage in cold weather, but certainly not to the figure, which ia never seen to more advantage, be it bad or good, than in a tight body, such as the old riding-habit. A plain white collar of fine lawn should be worn with the habit, deep lawn ouffs underneath the sleeves, while gauntlet gloves of tbiok 208 lady's dress. leather, arid no ornaments, save perhaps a delicately-twincHi whip, need be displayed. Compactness and utility are the requisites for the riding-dress ; and, -whilst touching on this point, let us impress strongly the danger arising from 00 long a skirt in the riding-habit : it is apt not cnly to alarm horses, but to entangle, in case of accidents, their fair riders. There, as in other cases, the principle of all that relatea to dress should be consistency and suitableness. If these are once lost sight of — if fifty apes fifteen — if the countess t^resses worse than her own housekeeper, or the maid viea with her mistress — if modest middle rank puts on the garb of fashion — if good tasie and good sense cease to be the foundation of the important whole, then all special di- rections will be unavailing. CHAPTER V ACCOMPLISHMEKTS Lo«D Byron in one of his letters tells us that be uiigfci have been a beau, if he had chosen to drink deep and gamble fast enough. In Ben Johnson's time the main pointa of a " compleat gentleman" were to swear a new oath in every sentence, " By the foot of Pharaoh," " As I am a gentleman and a soldier," and so forth; to take tobacco, and swear over its virtues ; to be able to run friend or foe through the heart with a bodkin ; and to write a copy of flilly verses to a by no means inaccessible mistress. Beau Brummell had only three pet points : the way he toot snuff, opening the box with one hand, the ease with which he cut an old acquaintance, and the grace with which he bowed to a new one. Lord Chesterfield seems to think that if a man can ride, fence, and dance well, he is skilled enough for good society. The three requirements are worth noticing. The first was essential, if you would have male friends, in days when knighthood was not quite a shadow ; the second allowed you to make good enemies, and kill or keep them ; the third fitted you for the society of women. The accomplishments of to-doy, though they differ ic many respects, have the same general bearing. In a mar they are the arts required to keep a friend, to make ai enemy, and to charm a woman ; in a woman, to surpass a rival and to captivate a man of more taste than heart For both, however, they have a far higher object, that; (209) 210 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. namely, of giving pleasure to our-follow creatures in some foi-m or other, ami of increasing the general harmony of BOfiety. Tliey arc in fact those corollaries to the prohleiu of education, by which a person is fitted not only to " pass/' out to " take honors'' in the social examination. Whilf it is impossible to deny that a man may be a perfect gen- tleman, a woman a well-bred lady, and both of them Qgreeable in society, without a single accomplishment, wa all of us feel that such a person must cither possess no usual wit, like Dr. Johnson, who had not one accomplish- ment to add to his sound sense and learning, or be one who, content to fill a quiet corner in life, does not care to emerge from it even for the benefit of others. Accomplishments have a heavy run against them in the present day, and are decidedly at a discount. " Give me," cries Paterfamilias, bringing his fist with a heavy thump iown on the table, " give me good sterling practical know- ledge, and none of your pishty-wishty humbugging accom- plishments." I'aterfamilias, you err, like many a British father, and in your love of the practical, you are blind to the immense advantage of cultivating the beautiful in every young soul. Paterfamilias, to take the most serious ground with you, it is the practical which shall lead you to money bogs and account books, but the beautiful which shall guide you towards heaven. These same accomi)lish- ments at which you sneer have a much deeper meaning and value for your children than merely to shine in society They constitute the whole amateurship of art, and in thfl present day to be thoroughly accomplished is to be half an artist ; yet the better half You may not be able to give a concert in Hanover Square Rooms, but you have cultivated the music that lies within your soul. And tl en THEIR REAL VALUE. 211 \B muaic in every soul, and music is the most bctiutiful ex* pression of peace and harmony ; and liarmony is the most beautiful law of nature, of creation, the first rule of God. You may not be able to exhibit a picture in tlif R^yal Academy, but you have learned to copy God' work, and learning to copy you have learned to observe and to know ; and to know God's work, is to know God in His work. Believe me, Paterfamilias, the study of art rightly undertaken is the study of God, and it is by cul- tivating the beautiful that you approach heaven. I do not say that every man can be a Crichton, bu<; I clo say that every man should aim at that character ia some way, both for his own sake and that of those around him. How much more so a woman, whose very mission ia to makd life less burdensome to man, to soothe and rorafort him, to raise him from his petty cares to happier thoughts, CO purer imaginings, towards heaven itself. At first sight accomplishments seem to belong, Lo women more than to men, but if we look more closo.// into the subject we shall find that a man has a doul/?.e necessity upon him ; he must be fit, on the one hand, for the society of men, on the other for that of women, and taate, iDokes even the swiftest dances graceful and aOTeeablo. Vehemence may be excused at an election, but not in a fciill-room. I once asked a beautiful and very clever young la.ly how she, who seemed to pass her life with books, managed to dance so well. ''I enjoy it," she replied; " and when I dance I give my ichnle tnind to it." And she was quite right. Whatever is worth doing at all, ia worth doing well ; and if it is not beneath your dignity to dance, it is not unwortliy of your mind to give itself for the time, wholly up to it. You will never enjoy dancing till you do it well ; and if you do not enjoy it, it is folly to dance. But in reality dancing, if it be a mere trifle, is one to which great minds have not been ashamed to Btoop. Locke, for instance, has written on its utility, and speaks of it as manly, which was certainly not Michal'a opinion, when she looked out of the window and saw her lord and master dancing and playing. Plato recom- mended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka of the day, when quite an old gentleman, and liked it very much. Some one has even gone the length of calling it " the logic of the body;" and Addison defends himself for making it the subject of a disquisition. If I say much more I shall have to do ihe same as Addison, and will therefore pass to some other accomplishments useful, if not nec(;s3ary, m society. On the Continent almost every boy is taught to pTaj^ the pan). A very false principle has. till lately, kepi our men from all the softer portion of life ; manliness waa identified with roughness, and every accomplishment whicD MUSIC. 241 was suitable tc a woman, was considered beneath the dig* nity of a man. In short, it is not fifty years at^o since to Imnt, shoot, and drink your bottle of port, formed the Dnly accomplishments necessary for male society, and re- finement did not extend beyond an elegance in bowing, in taking snuff, and in gallantry to the ladies. Left to themselves, men were ashamed to be anything better than bears. Fortunately it is now agreed that manliness and refinement are not opposed to one another. I believe tliat there is a taste for music in every child born, and that if it disappears in after life, it is for want of cultivation Was there ever yet a baby which could not be sung to sleep ? However this may be, to play some one instrument is of more value to a man than at first sight appears. To the character it is a refiner. Music is the medicine of the soul ; it soothes the wrinkles of a hard life of business, and lifts us from thoughts of money, intrigue, enterprises, anxieties, hatred, and what not, to a calmer, more heavenly frame of mind. To a man himself, therefore, the power to play is of use. He may not always have a sister, wife, or daughter, to sing and play to him ; he may not always be within reach of the opera and concert rooms, and then, too, half the en- joyment of music is gone, when you cannot enjoy it aa you list, and of what kind you need, gay or grave, aa your fancy lies. It is an indulgence to a pure mind, and it is one of those few indulgences which are free from harm. But besides this, a knowledge of music ig valuable tu a man in the societj' both of his own and the other sex. It ifl a great recommendation among women, and vibrates on a chord of sympathy between the sexes, when possibljF 11 242 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. there is no other. Still more so where womtn are notj and their want is felt. The man who can play an air is a boon to the camp, the college, or the Inn of Court Wf] I do I remember how popular Jones was for his piano, ill 1 Smith for his cornet, at St. Boniface's. Yet Jonefl lu'J Smith were very dull men in themselves, and kej't very bad wine. What did we care ? We did not want to drink with our mouths when we could do so with oui ears But if instrumental music recommend a man, still more the cultivation of the natural musical instrument. " He can tell a good story and sing a good song," is al- most the best recommendation one bachelor can give of another in a social point of view, and if you can sing a good ballad, or take part in a duet, quartett, chorus, oi what not, you are invaluable in an evening party. There are, however, a few points to be attended to in connexion with playing or singing in public. In the first place, as to a choice of instrument. The piano is alwaya acceptable, but however good a man's touch, it must be remembered, it is not so agreeable in a room as a lady's. Every other instrument should be accompanied by the piano, so that unless you have some fair friend ready tc play for you, it will be useless to take your instrument. But under the most fortunate circumstances, your choice is limited. The instrument must not be too loud or too harsh for the sensitive tympanum of your fair audience. No Dne would volunteer a solo rn the drum, perhaps ; but mcr who play but little, will sometimes inflict the fuiut- hots or cor7iet-a -pistons on th3ir unhappy listeners; these two instruments, and inieed every species of horn^ can only be tolerated in a drawing-room if extremely well played, and therefore modulated. On the other band, if SINGING. 243 you care for your appearance, you will scarcely introduce the violoncello. The fiddle is so common that people will not care for it unless played -with execution, uid the flageolet is scarcely worth listening to. There remains the flute, and the guitar, which is a good accompaninieut to the voice, but should not be played by a stout or an el- derly man. Concerts are so common now, and first-rate performers so easily heard, that more than common pro- ficiency will be expected from you on any instrument ex- cept the piano, and you should therefore never take your instrument with you unless particularly requested to do BO by the inviter, nor play more than once unless pressed to do so by the lady of the house. If you have a tenor or alto voice, a good ear, and a knowledge of a few songs, you need never be afraid of singing in public. A barytone being commoner, require? more excellence to back it, and a base should be prohibit- ed, / think, from solo exhibitions, unless very good. But be the voice what it may, if you cannot sing iji time, never attempt it. Others in the company will have better ears than yourself, and politely execrate you. Time is not so important, unless you join a duet, trio, or chorus. The choice of songs is quite as essential as the choice of an instrument. A man should not sing women's ditties, and should never yawl out the namby-pamby ballads be- loved of young ladies, A really honest love-song, id which the words are as good as the music, becomes a tenoi 3r barytone well — scarcely a basso. On the other hand, the too ferocious style should be avoided. Comic songs as a general rule, are atrocious. Their want of wit is not atoned for by the presence of slang, vulgarity, ,or even eoareoness. They are usually written by men of inferiof 244 ACCOxMPLISHMENTS mind, often for the stoge or public entertainijienta, an^ are purposely broad, in order to be understood by a m.xod audicnre. On the other hand, if you have essentially a comic face and manner, and can sing a parody, or a more rtfineJ comic song with character, you may attempt it iii nil il'. parties. In men's society, of course, the comic long is the most popular. A man singing before ladies must remember their nerves, and modulate his voice. He must also bear in mind, that however well he sings, a lady's voice is more suited to a drawing-room, and unless pressed to do so, will content himself with one or. at most two songs. But a man should nut allow himself to be pressed too much, nor affect diffidence like a young miss of seventeen. If he has not sua^ cr played before, he should do so (if he can) without hentation, and with an amiable willingness, being confident t'lat the lady of the house desires to amuse her guests rather than to flatter him. In general society, the card-table in the present day ia Happily reserved for elderly people, but a young man may be sometimes called upon to make up a rubber, and if so he would mar the pleasure of others if he were not able to take a hand. At the same time it is generally under- ctood that ladies and young men should not be asked to Jo so, unless absolutely necessary, and if a hostess opena a card-table, she should be able beforehand to select a sufficient and suitable number of players. It is always ti ying to see ladies play. It has been observed that women have only two passions, love and avarice. The latter ill becomes them, and yet so strong is it, that they call rarely conceal it at the card-table. Where a number of guests are willing to play, the sfr MODERN LANGUAGES 245 lectii>n 13 made by drawing cards, and the highest drawers are excluded from the game. At whist the two lowex and two higher drawers become partners respectively •, the lowest lias the iSr.it deal. The trial of temper then ensues, and if card playing has no other virtue, it maj be commended as a test of temper and good-breeding L'jse without a murmur, win without triumph. Nevei ii-sist '^'^0 sharply on fines, and be ready to pay on the spot, [f unable to do this, you should pay the next morning at the latest It is always allowable to man or lady to say " I do not play," and the words are understood to mean, that though able, you prefer not to do so. If a bad play- er, you will do well to keep away from the table ; you have a partner's interest to consult as well as your own. As a general rule in good society, it should be understood that one does not plaj'' /or money, but with money. The skill rather than the result of the game must be the point of interest. In round games, which are patronized by people who have not the accomplishments to supply their place, or the wit to do without them, the main fault to be avoided is eagerness. Of single games, you should know as many as possible. The finest of them is chess, which is worthy of any man, and a splenlid mental exercise. Withoui ar^piring to be a Morphy or a Staunton, you may by prac- tice and thought become an excellent chess player; bui tVe game is not a social one, and requires too much aT> traction to be introduced in social gatherings. Perhaps the most useful accomplishment to one's Sf.lf IH a knowledge of languages. Independent of the great superiority it gives you in travel, and the wide field of literature to which it introduces you, you are liabk ic 246 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. really gocd society, especially in high Lor.dun circles, m meet with foreigners having a very slight acquaintaLce with English. From them you may derive avast amount of information, turn the slow current of your associatioR3 ftnd even be amused more than by any conversation wiill your own countryiven. The most patriotic John Bui now admits that foreigners understand better than our« selves the art of conversation, and though we may accuse them of fi'ivolity among themselves, we must remembei that in English society their first desire is to make them- selves really appreciated. As a rule, too, they are more interested than we are in current history, and whatever their prejudices or their ignorance, you will rarely meet with a Frenchman, Italian, or German, from whom you may not gather much curious information which will servo you elsewhere. An untravelled man is always at somi •disadvantage in good English society, where almost every one but himself will have crossed the channel, but if he has a good knowledge of continental language and litera- ture, this disadvantage is materially diminished. Ad accomplishment much overlooked as an accomplish- ment, but one indispensable to good society, is to be able to talk on current literature and passing affairs. Every gentleman in the present day should subscribe to a circu- lating library, and take in a London newspaper. Besides taking in the latter, he should read it-witli judgment. He should be able to form and gi\e an opinion independent of party prejudice on any question of common interest Whatever his views, he should be able as a man of sense and in order to be agreeable, to look on tliem independent ly, to support them reasonably, or abanJon them gruco- fully. Politics, and even religion, can, [ njoicc to ?iy. CARVING. 247 he discussed in the present day without inflammatiDn and acerbity, and, though the latter subject is better avoided m mixed circles, a thorough gentleman will be able to bow to another's opinion, and to put forward his own delicately fend sensibly. There is one more accomplishment which is, fortunately, i^.ist falling into disuse The days are done when an awkward servant could anoint your head and best coat with & whole dishful of gravy, or an unskilled gentleman might be forced to bow to the lady on his right, with : "Madam, I'll trouble you for that goose in your lap." Bad caj^v- ing used to spoil three good things on the pan of the carver, good joints, good temper, and a good digestion. Even good carving marred conversation, and to short men it was a positive infliction, for I need scarcely say, that under no circumstances whatever could a man be permitted to stand up to carve. But because the carving of joints game, &c., at a side table, is a foreign custom lately intro- duced into this country, there are people still found patri otic enough to prefer carving at the dinner-table. " I likf the good old English custom," says one; "I like to se* a host dispensing his hospitality himself;" and in tht country, where some hosts prefer meat to manners, it is still retained. But I may ask whether hospitality con- sists more in severing the wings from a chicken's body, thar. in setting all your guests at their ease, and at onc€ leading off the conversation. Does it demand a distribu tior of good morsels rather than of good will ? The ad TDcates of the " good old custom'" may be reminded agaiiij that iri former days it was the hostess, not the host, who dispensed the viands, her husband being occupied with a distribution of the wine, which is the reason why the ladj 248 ACCniPJilSHMENTS. Bat at the head of the table ; but what is the v Jue of an old custom universally disregarded, since no longer the hostess, but the guest who has the misfortune to take her in to dinner, is called upon to play the part of butcher i Can it be any more satisfactory to me to have my muttin. ilicod by a guest than by the butler in my host's service? Anothei argument maliciously advanced, is contained ic the sneer : " No, no, thank you, I like to see my din- ner, and know what I am eating." But what a slur upon the hospitality of your host, to suppose he would give you « cat for a hare, or a puppy for a rabbit ! We might ag well insist that he should sup our port before we drink it (est there should be poison in the cup — a custom, by the 'vay, still retained in Bavaria where the kellnerinn. or waitress, who brings you your quart of beer, invariably puts it to her mouth before she hands it to you. But there is a reason for that, since many a soldier in the Thirty Tears' War was poisoned at a beer-garden. Carving is, however, still common at small parties and family dinners, and it will be a happy time when it ia abandoned even there. I have seen many an unfortunate young man put to confusion when deputed to carve, by the anxious looks of the host or hostess, and have even heard Buch atrociously rude remarks as. "Thomas, bring that fowl to me; Mr. Jones seems not to understand it;" n;iy, I have seen people lose their temper so completely at having their pet dishes hacked by the unskilful, as to pio iuce an awkward silence through the whole company Then too, in family circles, more quarrels are to be traced to a l)lunt knife or a difficult disli, than even to milliners' bills, and I stayed for a short time in one house, whosa master at last got into a habit of losing his temper ovei HINTS ON CAllVINd. 24 J» (lie joint, which he carved very ill at all times, and whorOj in consdiuence, dinner was more dreaded than the ^jiUoi-y. Indeed, s.s great results may often be traced to tlie most trifling causes, I am convinced that half the domc3tia tyraimy of the Bi-itish paterfamilias, and mucli of tba bickering and irritation which deprive home of its chainia, may be traced to no greater cause than the cutting up of a joint. The larger the flimily the greater the misery of tho carver, who lins scarcely helped them all round, before the first receiver has done and is readj"- for a second help- ing. When at last the hungry father or elder brother can secure a mouthful, he must hurry over it, at the risk of lyspepsia, in order not to keep the others waiting. But we are a nation of conservatives, and a custom which lescended from the days \Yhen a knight would stick hia dagger into a leg of mutton, which he held by the knuckle- bone (hence tiie frill of white paper still stuck round it, to slop in the gravy and look disgusting before the joint ii removed), and carve him a good thick slice without mort ceremony, will not soon be got rid of, however great a nuisance. It is therefore necessary, if you would avoid irritation, black looks, and even rude speeches, to know h ny to carve at a friend's table, whatever you may do at y.ur own. When thus situated, the following hints will be found iseful. HINTS ON CARVING AND HELPING. 1. Soup is helped with a ladle. Take care that thi servant holds the plate close to the tureen, and distiibut« Dne ladlcful to each person. 2. Fish is cut with a large flat silver kni^e or fish« llice, never with a common one. Of small fish, you first separated from the brisket, after which either or both may be sent round. Roast pork is not often seen on good tables When it appears it is as easy to carve as a leg of mutton, but the slices should be thicker and not so large. Two very small slices ar3 enough for an epicure ; let those who like it e.it more. The best part of roast pork is the crackling, if it has been roasted with buttered paper over it. Boiled pork like boiled mutton, is only to be toleratea for th< 254 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. Bake of its proper accompaniments, but the taste for pease- pudding, unlike that for caper sauce, can only be acquired by a long residence in this country. Both these jointa are carved like a roasted leg of mutton. The waiter a^ a hotel^ who, when a llei/rew gentleman ordered " pork chops," considerately and delicately returned with poach ed eggs, was a man of taste as Avell as of breeding, and knew that it takes much to make pork palatable. Not so, however, with ham and bacoji, which are meats to warm the cockles of the heart, even of a Pharisee of the Phari- eees, and while to enjoy the former one would always be rich, one could be content to be poor for the sake of the latter. Alas ! because bacon is a poor man's luxury, the rich, or their vulgar cooks, will never admit it, or very rarely. It must be cut as thin as a lady's vail, and in delicate long strips rather than slices. A ham may be cut in thred ways, by beginning either at the knuckle, which must be turned towards your left, and slicing in a slanting direction ; or at the thick end, which is then turned to your left ; or, in the commonest manner, like a leg of mutton, across the centre. In any case it must be cut in very thin, delicate slices, such as the waiters of now defunct Vauxhall won their fame for, and such as, to this day, few people but the owner of a London cook- Bhop can achieve. One small slice is enough as an ac- companiment to a helping of fowl or veal. Last of the joints comes their best, the haunch of Veni' toil. To carve this the knuckle should be turned towards your right hand, and above it a rapid cross cut made. A cut lengthways from the other end to the cross cut, should divide the meat about the middle, and slices of moderate thickness aie then to be taken or. each side of the long HINTS ON CAK/INd. 256 cut ; those on the left aro the best, having the most fai about them. You are now wisliing that edible animals grew like pil- lows, to be sliced up like roly-poly puddings, and wouhi '.lispense for ever with the inconv^enience of limbs, legs, fl oulders, saddles, haunches, loins, sirloins, breasts, ribs, fore-quarters and hind-quarters. But you cannot have everything. If meat grew on trees it would not be wortb eating ; it is the exercise of the animal which makes it tender and savory ; while, on the other hand, the best jneat is generally +*" . nearest to the bone. The only riddle which Sir Edward Lytton vfus ever guilty of per- petrating was this : " Why is a cat's taste better than a dog's? Because the dog's is bon (bone), but the cat's ia mieux (mew)." With all deference to Sir Edward, 1 must give my opinion that the dog has the best taste of ill animals, which he displays in his preference for bones, Tell knowing that the meat nearest to them is always the aiost savory. However this may be, you have not done yet ; indeed, you have the worst to come, and there is fresh torture for the carver in — 4. Animals served whole. You may perhaps mastei a Rabbity because he may be treated like Damien, who was broken on the wheel, by removing the legs and shoul- ders with a sharp-pointed knife, and then breaking hia back in three or four pieces by pressing the knife acroaf it and pushing the body up against it with the fork but when you come to that long, thin, dark, and scraggy ani- mal, which with its crisp delicate ears sticking up, and the large sockets where its eyes once were, looks like roasted bottle-imp, rather than roasted Hare, what ar« 266 ACCO.MrLISHAIENTS. you to do, unless the cook Jias been skilrul enough U bone it foi you ? You must first cake care that youi knife has a sharp strong point to it, and therewith, hav- ing the head oK the hare towards your left you will cut cflT the legs, — to wit, the hind legs, for carving and nat- ural history differ in this matter, the latter asserting thai the hare is a quadruped, the former that it has only two legs, and two " wings." You will then cut two long tliin slices off each side of the back ; then take off the '"wings" or shoulders; then break the back into four pieces with the aid of the fork ; then cut off the ears, and lastly, turning the head towards you with the under side uppermost, insert the point of the knife exactly in the centre of the palate, and drawing it to the nose, thus di- vide it into two parts. If you do all this without splash- ing the gravy, you may take your degree in carving. But to help a hare is more diplomatic still than to carve it. The difficulty is to find enough for everybody who wants it. The best parts are the slices from the back, the head and ears. Never, however, send head or ears to a lady. There is a good reason for this, which 1 won't tell you But if there is a minister in office at table, and you want to ask him for a place, or there is a father whose daughter's hand you aspire to, or an uncle who may pos- sibly leave you a legacy, it is for him that you reserve half the face, and one if not both ears. If he be at all a tuymp.t^ you will get his ear by sending him pusa's, and the delicate brain of the animal will fully compensate for B want of it in your own head. Afoirl, if not in its premi' re jeiinesse, is more irri- tating still than a hare, because you feel that when you have done jour '>e8t, the flesh is not worth eating, excepl HINTS ON CARVING. 25 "3 at sujipor Tliere are two ways of beginning Eilhei take the log, wing, and part of breast off with Dnc cut after ha\ing laid the bird on its side: or, allowing it to remain on its back, with the breast and wings tovyarld vou, and the legs away from you. insert the knife in tlis sile of the breast above the leg, and bring it down to thf joint of the wing, which is thus removed with a slic^ oi the breast. The liver wing, which lies to your right, ia the best, and shuuld be taken off first. This done, insert the knife just at the turn of the breast, bring it down, and you have the merry-thought. The meat of the breast is then easily sliced off, the legs having been turned back with the fork. The side-bones come off next, in a moment, if you insert the knife or fork in the right place^ viz., under the angular joint, and turn them out. The back is then broken by lifting it with the fork against the pressure of the knife, and lastly, tlie sides arc j'omoved. The wing, breast, and merry-thought are the best pieces ; the legs and sides are insulting. The great point in carving a fowl is to do it quickly, and with the fork a,g much, if not more than, the knife. A partridge is carved like a fowl, but the legs being joined, are simply turned back with the knife before the operation commences. A pheasant is carved like a fowl. Pigeojis are not carved at all, but cut in two down the middle ; the eater kindly saving the carver any further trouble. Snipe is treated in the same way and smaller birds are always sent round one to each person. Of a goose or a turkey we are told it is " vulgar " to cut more than the breast, but there can be no vulgarity m making a good dinner, and in the fjimily circle you "^ill be obliged 'o "ipply to the wings and legs. However 258 ACCOMPLISIIMENXg. for company, shcos of the breast suffice. The same thiiiii is said of tlie wild-duck, that best of birds; but wo did not think so at Oxford, where we never left anything more than their carcasses. The most productive bird ia the Scotch and SAvedish capercailzie. I have known ono satisfy fourteen large appetites one day, three he ivy eaters the second, and what with hashing, grilling, devil- 'jng, and picking, last the original purchaser a whole week for breakfast nfterwards. It miglit perhaps be "vulgar" to carve such a bird as that; little less an (han offering i lady a leg of ostrich. CHAPTER VI. FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. An English lady \\'ithout her piano, or her pencil, or hei &ncy work, or her favorite French authors and German poets, is an object of wonder, and perhaps of pity. Mu- sic, the cultivation of which was, at one time, severely censured as being carried to excess, has now become a national want. Painting, and even modelling, are noi ^nly pursued in the quiet of home, they furnish subjects for an amateur exhibition. No woman can be wholly fitted as a member of society, unless she can dance well ; and to work neatly and skilfully at fancy work, is one of the attributes of good female society. We are not, wa English, a nation of talkers ; natu- rally, our talent is for silence. The few who distinguished themselves in conversational powers have died out among us, and their places will never, we have every reason te believe, be filled up. " The seat is vacant — whereon Conversation Shai-pe gave forth such studied bon mots," or culled from the treasures of his vast memory the tit bits of old authors. Lady Morgan who, as she " oil cil- iated" through a party, to use her own expression, de- lighted both wise and simple, by her ever ready flow of (259^ ^t)0 FEMININE ACCOMPLISUMENTS. wor.ls, and richness of anecdote and repartee, in gone and her thr«ne is vacant. Tiic salon, which she collected around her, wac, 'n Ite capacity of passing hours in talking, more French thac l\nglish : she its centre. We sliall never see the like again ; the world is too large, and we are too rich. Elo- quence, even, went out with metal buttons and white waistcoats : the House of Commons is only bored by it now ; the Lords are proud and thankful to say tliey never encouraged it. Eloquence, which is to conversation what the garden flower is to -the wild flower, the hot-house grape to the poor sour thing that grows on the cottagf? walls — eloquence, which is but condensed conversation, with all the essence of many minds in one, is regarded in these practical days only as an interruption. It thf refore becomes more and more essential that therfl should be some talent to supply the want of good conver sation. And, for that end, there is nothing like music. Music is, I repeat, the substitute, and the only one, for conversational powers. It has its merits in that light. Conversation sometimes aggravates temper: music soothe* it Conversation challenges reply : music gives no an- swer. Conversation is the rock of peril to the impudent : they can scarcely, in playing or singing, commit an iudis cretion. In talking, again, one may lose a friend, or even make an enemy. Music is, therefore, an excellent source sf amusement for many occasi^ons. and is become almost in- ilispensable to those who have frequently parties to re- ceive. A lively waltz, or a soft movement, careful!^ played, even without that great execution which compeU listening, are often aids to conversation : it flows the more ♦jasily from that slight and agieeable interruption, it h;ia MUSIC. 261 iiijeed, still greater advantages: this world of ours has its work and its troubles ; a parent or husband may leuvfl borne from either or from both, to find a solace in music^ which changes tlic current of his ideas. A brothtr may he almost made domestic by the cheerful notes, which he Br^dw pass the evening almost as rapidly as the club, oi J dllien's, or the theatre. Few persons are wholly devoid of a capacity for enjoying music, and even, if not gifted with any great natural taste, a love of the art may almost be engrafted on the nature by early associations. And those associations, too, have their value. The air that brings back home-born thoughts, brings back in some de- gree the absent, the kind, the forbearing, the loving, ihe honored. The piano still keeps its pre-eminence as the instrument best fitted for society. The harp, it is to be regrettec", has for some years ceased to be fashionable ; perhaps tha greater attention, in modern times, to physical education has banished the harp from the school-room. There is every risk of the practising o i this instrument producin;* curvature of the spine ; when as the piano, from exercis- ing both hands at a time, and from the straight posture it requires, is useful to those disposed to such curvatures. Duets on the harp and piano are, nevertheless, very de- lightful ; and they used to produce a good effect in a large room, when two sisters, or a professional lady and her young pupil, a daughter of the house, opened the evening's iinusement with one of those exquisite Italian airs, set by Boehsa or Chatterton. Simple melodies, sung to the hai*}*^ are still very effective in society from their s^aricty. A harp requires a large room it should be played with feel- 2C2 FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. mg and grace, or it becomes very unpleasant; like the jingliLg of a hired band. It reciuires stout nerves, cer ta inly for the display necessary to execute an air on th i harp perched on a hij^h stool, and forming a pleasing vbject. as well as being the vehicle of sweet sounds to Iho whole company. The guitar makes a graceful variety : but is more ap- propriate to a man's than to a woman's playing. It ia monotonous, and soon fatigues the attention ; but, being easily portable, is often a resource in places and on occa- sions where a piano cannot be had. The same may be said of the zitter, one of the sweetest and most touching of string instruments ; but still, except for the occasional playing of Tyrolean minstrels, unknown in this country. It is of Bavarian origin, and is the oldest instrument known. Its plaintive and appealing sounds are heard in Alpine chdlets, or by the forester's fireside, as weU as in the country revels of the inhabitants of Vienna, Inn- spruck, and Munich. It is exquisite as an accompaniment of the voice ; it is cheap and portable. A good zitter may be obtained for thirty shillings or two pounds. It is flat, and takes up little room, and should be placed horizon- tally on a table, without a cover. It requires, however, time and much practice to bring out those thrilling tones, at once so touching and so peculiar. The most eminent professors in Germany speak highly of the powers of this B/?i «11 instrument, and say that it produces notes nearer to those of the human voice than any other. Yet it is not ealcuhited for large concerts : we English must have noidO and show. The zitter is aii instrument for the boudoir, for lovers in a bower, for the poet in his turret, foi MUSICAL INSTRUMENIS. 268 the devotee to all that is soft, romantic, and unsf^pListi- cated. It seems scarcely needful to point to the violin and 7icloncello as instruments unsuitable to young ladies ; yei ilioie have been women who have successfullv cultivated bc'tli, to the great credit of their perseverance, and tli< great detriment of their feminine attractions. The con certina is, however, a beautiful and not inappropriate in- strument, though I confess the inelegance of the attitude required much lessens the sentiment inspired by the beau tiful tones of the concertina. Nothing requires greater judgment, if not some expe- rience of society, than the selection of pieces to play in company. " Oh ! how my head ached last night !" criea an old lady; " we had a piece six pnges long!" Some ladies sit down (as it seems) with an intention of " giving it rein" for their hearers. Through passage after pas- sage, volleys of black notes are made to speak, and, aa page after page is turned over by a zealous friend, the young musician labors at it, and does herself justice, and her hearers a wrong : for a long piece is as bad as a long story, and neither are fitted for society. A short, perhapg brilliant, thoroughly well-learned air or movement by some good master, is the best response to the often put question, " Will you play something?" The loud, thump- ing style should be avoided : if possible, the piece should uol be quite common and hackneyed ; not what " evorj one' plays. It should not be too mournful, nor too rapid. On sitting down to the piano, it is very offensive to heal a yoinig lady find fault with the instrument, or complain tliat it is out of tune — a proof either that her temper il 264 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. out of tune, or that she \vi.shcs to impress on you the flii periciityof her cur, -which detects the defect to yours wliieh has stupidly overlookn.d it. All self-id you ever hear such nonsense?" giving you good reasons forsooth^ if poets and philosopliers coukl be mea- Bured by the lowest standard of the dryest common sense. Tibbs is all common sense, but by no means a pleasant companion. Very different is old ]Mr. Dawdles. He seems to be iu a state of chronic plethora. Say what you will on his dearest Ihcmes, he has no reply for you but a yes or no snivelled out. When he speaks himself, he appears to be grumbling at you, however kind his words. You knew he is good and means very well, and he would give you half his fortune out of sheer kindness, but with a gesture and tone of voice which would seem to say, " There, take it, and don't make a fuss.'' lie does hate a fuss, more tlian all other abominations. There is Slouch, again, whom I believe to be an incar- nation of honor and uprightness, but A\ho gives you the idea of a snt-ak and a villain. He never looks you full in fche face. His shaggy biows hang over his lurking eyes, and his Avords come cautiously and suspiciously wriggling up to you. But Pompous has the best of hearts. He has been known to go out of his way for miles to leave a little somC' tiling with a poor widow. And how the man wrongs him- self! He is very tall, and has a fine figure. He draws himself up to the greatest height, and looks down on you u if you were a Lilliput, and all the while he loves you EXAMPLES OF A BAD .AlANXER. 279 Vu' IB ftriiiamed to show it. He orders liis wife and ser- vaLU! Ahont with a Ciilm imperiousness ^liich makes tliein ^re^A hjin, and yet tlnej all acknowledge they never knew a kinder man, though I never yet saw a smile of p.ty or Byrripafchy on his face. Far less admirable is that ■weak young Fitzwhiskers. who holds his head so very high, and walks down the room with a curled lip, which seems to say, "What scum you all are !" Then there is Commodus, an agreeable man, if you can kefp him within bounds. He sits do^vn quietly enough an']| you are pleased, but in two minutes he is making the freest possible remarks, with no harm, no intentional of- fence in them, but yet so intolerably familiar for a man you have known but five minutes, that they quite upset you. Only the other day I rashly introduced him to a young lady, and she afterwards told me how he had be- gun : — "Were you at the opera last night?" this was politely and quietly asked. "No." " How very fortu- nate for those who were there ! Those eyes would have singed a dozen hearts." But Vivax is one of the worst. He talks atrociously loud ; hails you from the other end of the table. " "Will trouble you for that, ha, ha ! and for this, ho, ho !" and " Have you been dancing. Miss Smith ? ha, ha ! Then of course you have, Miss Jones? he, he! and what do you say to it, Mrs. Brown?" and he is round the Avholo circle, from one to another, in two minutes, not waiting for answers. Then he bustles about; he must always haye something on hand. He drags you here one minute, and rushes away from you the next. He talks as rapidly as an auctioneer, and rattles over a dozen subjects in as many minutes. Ho is quick and clever, but when he ha* 280 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AXD HABITS. jcrkei out his own thought, he clinches it with u ha li» or a he, he ! and never waits foi- your answer. G lumrne is just the reverse. You must do all the tilk- icg for him ; he will only drawl out a " No-o-o," or • " Ve-e-es,'* and wears a perpetual scowl. Then there is Trippet, who seizes you by the buttou \ole, ani grows hot over the merest trifle ; Courte, who replies with a sharp sneer ; Sterne, who has for ever a look of reproof, though he does not mean i"; ; Fidgette, who can never be prevailed upon to be comfortable ; Bluff, who terrifies you with his curt blunt manner ; and Lack- adaye, who is so languid that he cannot take the trouble even to look at you. One genius whom I knew, never removed his eyes from the lamp on the table ; another rushed up to you, seized both your hands, and gazed with apparent affection into your eyes ; a third spoke deep truths in a low solemn tone, as he gazed at a spot on the carpet ; a fourth moved his head to and fro, as if to avoid your gaze : and a fifth, the greatest of all, never spoke at all. The manner, in short, which a man must aspire to, ia one which will give ease, and not embarrassment, to oth- ers. He must preserve a certain dignity, but yet be pliant ; he must be open, frank ; look you honestly in the face, speak out confidently, yet calmly; modestly, yet firmly; not be bluff or blunt, but yet be free and simple. In fact, let a man be natural, let him be in society what i»e is any where ; but if he find his natural manner too rough, tDo loud, too curt, or too brutal, let him learn to tame it and calm it down. But manner has various functions for various circum- itanc23. Towards our elders and superiors, we mustsbon THE PHYSICAL CARRIAGE. 281 Ml honest, not servile deference; towards w',men. gentle- ness ; towards juniors tenderness ; towards inferiors, a simple dignity, without condescension. Aristotle, who ^ia perhaps a better philosopher than gentleman, recommends a haughtiness to superiors, and graceful freedom to in- feriors. The world is old enough to judge for itself. But when a man finds that his lively badinage suits a band of jaerrj lissome girls, he must not be so wild as to rush at Papa with the same kind of banter. Paterflxm. may give a smile to real wit and laugh at a good story, but the same trifling which makes his daughters laugh so ring- ingly, will only appear to him a familiarity when ad dressed to himself. Then, again, the gravity into which you have fallen when discussing great measures with a philanthropist, will afford no satisfaction to the airy mass of tarlatane with whom you dance soon after. Solomon has said it : there is a time to weep and a time to laugh. In other words, be you as merry a jester as ever sat at a king's table, you must not oVitrude your unweary mirth at a visit of condolence ; or be you the " most bereavai" of widowers, you will not bring your tears and sighs to damp the merriment of social gatherings. What applies to manner may be transferred in most respects to that bearing which distinguishes a man in so- ciety. But the times change much in this respect, and the old courteous dignity with which the beaux of my younger days behaved, has given way to a greater ease, and sometimes^ I fear, to too great freedom. I do not know whether to regret or not, the strict ccurteousngas of those times. It often amounted to affectation ; it was not natural to be ever bowing low, making set speeches, raising a lady's hands to one's lips, or pressing one's own 282 MANNER. CARRIAGE, AND HABITS. upon the region of the heart, but ,\t the same time I re- gret the lounging familiarity which we see too piovakr., among young men of the present day. Tiicrc is no' ii, . fiict sufficient reverence for the fair and the old. Sum< times this, I regret to say, must be charged to the f.ul •of the foniier ; and a young lady who talks slang, oi i always with "the men," must expect to find them sonio« times abuse hor good-nature. But abstracts are inefifec- tive ; let me come to some details as to the physical car- riage of a man. A certain dignity is the first requisite, but we must not expect too much of it in the young, and we should not emulate the solemnity of Charles the First, who never laughed. It is a mistake, too, to suppose that height ig necessary for dignity. Chesterfield, the most polished gentleman of his day, was only five feet seven in height, and Wellington arid Bonaparte, both short men, have never been accused of Avant of dignity. But at the same time the assumption of it is more liable to become ridicu- lous in a short than in a tall man. Dignity can never go along with a slouching gait, and uprightness should bo acnuired in childhood by gymnastics and ample exercise. This uprightness, however, should not go to the extent of curving the back inwards. The chest should be expanded, but not sc much as to make " a presence.'' The head siiould be set well back on the shoulders, but not tos.sel up nor jerked on one side with that air of pertne.9S y(iU gee in some men. People of height are often foolisL enough to mar it by bending the head forward, whereaa If carried well, a tall figure is never awkward, even amcn^ Lilliputs. In standing, the legs ought to be straight, oi l>ne of them bent a little, but not set wide apart In CAURIAOE. 288 fralkiiig. they slunild be movc'l gently but Grinly fi'orr. thfl bips^ so that the upper p-nt of the body may remain it the same position. How often from my Avindow hnvt 1 beta able to mark a man by his walk ! One comes sti'id* ing s*''utly like a captain on quarter-deck ; another shaii hies his feet along the pavement: a third swings his arm3 violently ; a fourth cjirries them bowed out before him like ft dancing-master of the old school ; a fifth turns out his huge feet at an angle of forty-five ; another jerks forward his pointed toes like a soldier at drill ; another sways hia hy}y from side to side ; another looks almost hump-back- ed, as he moves heavily on ; one more saunters listlessly with his hands in his pockets ; this one moves his arms back behind him, and that one carries them stiff and straight as iron bars, with his fists clenched like knobs at the CLd thereof The feet m.ust be turned outwards very little /ndeed ; the arms should be carried easily and very slight} /■ bent at the sides, and in walking should be moved i, littlf5, withont swinging them : and the shoulders should never be shrugged up. Avoid stiffness on the one hand, lounging on the other. Be natural and perfectly at your ease, whether in walking or sittings and aspire to calm confidence rather than loftiness. There is, however, one good haO/c v.hich must not be overlooked. You should never spf,ak without a slight smile, or at least a beam of good vrill in j'-our eyes, and that to all, whether your equals or inferiors. To th » lattra it is especially necessary, and often wins yon n.ore love than the most liberal benevolence. But tnis smile should not settle into a simper, nor, when you are launch- ed in a conversation, should it interfere with the eftraest 284 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS. ness of jour manner. To a lady it should be more marLod than to a man. In listening, again, you should manifest » certain inte- rest in >Yhat a person is saying ; and however little wortlij of your attention, you should not show that you think it Bo by the toss of your head or the wandering of youi eyes. In speaking to any one you should look them io the face, for the eyes always aid the tongue, but you should not carry this to the extent of wriggling yourself forward in order to catch their eyes, if there happen to be another person between you. It is painful to see the want of ease with which some men sit on the edge of a chair ; but at the same time the manner in which others throw themselves back and stretch forward their legs savors too much of familiarity. You may cross your legs if you like, but not hug your kneea nor your toes. Straddling a chair, and tilting it up may be pardonable in a bachelor's rooms, but not in a lady's drawing-room. Then, if you carry a walking-stick or umbrella in the street, you should avoid swinging them violently about^ or tucking them under the arm. Both are dangerous to your neighbors, for in the one case you may inadvertently strike a person and get into as great trouble as the individual who was brought up the other day for assaulting a woman with a cricket-bat, which he afiSrmed he was merely swinging about careles&ly ; in the other, the point of your stick may run into some unfoitu* nate creature's eye. Foreigners talk with their arms and hands as auxilia ries to the voice. The custom is considered vulgar by us calm Englishmen, and a Parisian, who laughs at out HABITS. 285 ladies' diessing, will still admit that our men are " dis- (itigu's, mais ires distinffucs." If the face follows the words, and jou allow, without grimacing, your eyes and sn.ile to express what you are saying, you have no need to act it with the hands, but, if you use them at all, it shoull be very slightly and gracefully, never bringing down a fist upon the table, nor slapping one hand upuc another, nor pokiig your fingers at your interlocutor. Pointing, too, is a habit to be avoided, especially pointing with the thumb over the shoulder, which is an inelegant action. In short, while there is no occasion to be stolid or constrained, you should not be too lively in your ac- tions, and even if led away by the enthusiasm of an argu- ment, should never grow loud, rant, or declaim. No manner is more disagreeable than that of vehement affir- mation or laying down the law. With these remarks I may pass to consider certain habits which are more or less annoying to your neighbors. First, there is that odious habit of touching the nose and ears with the fingers, for which there is no excuse. Every part of the person should be properly tended in the dress- ing-room, never in the drawing-room, and for this reason picking the teeth, however fashionable it may once have been, scratching the head, the hands, or any part of the body, are to be avoided. Mr. Curzon tells us that at Erzeroum it is quite the fashion to scratch the bites of a little insect as common there as in certain London hotels, ftnd it is even considered a delicate attention to catch the lipely creatures as they perch on the dress or shoulders jf your partner. Fortunately we are not tempted to per- form such attentiDns in this country ; but if you have the misfortune to be bitten or stung by any insect, you must 288 MANNER, CARRIAGE. AND HABITS. CiKlure the pain witliout sciatcliing tbe bite in compar.^ These same little insects being of very disagreeable origin .■are not even spoken of with us. Biting tiie nails, a^iain IS not only a dirty habit, but one which soon diKfignK.-i Hths fiagei'S. So too in blowing your no.se, you uuist nci \nake the noise of a trumpet, but do it gently and quiet- ly ; and, when you sneeze, use your handkerclr'cf I do not go the length of saj^ing that you must represa a e]i(ieze entirely. There is a pleasant custom, still univer- sal in Germany and Italy, and retained among the peas antry in some parts of England, of blessing a person whf has sneezed, hcDed'icite^ Gotf. segue s/e, and " bless you," being the terms used, probably in the hope that the prayer may keep you from cold. Sneezing brings me to snuffing, which is an obsulete custom, retained only by a fcAV old gentlemen, and as i1 is a bad one, no young man should think of reviving it. Buf what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh taught our gallants to puff in capacious bowls ; which a toyil pedant denounced in a famous " Counterblast ;' which his flattering laureate, Ben Jonson, ridiculed to please his master : which our wives and sisters protest gives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a man can indulge in ; of which some fair favorers declare that they love the smell, and otliers that thej'" will never marrj? an indulger (which, bj' the way, they generally end in iloing); whicli has won a fame over more space and among bo''ter men than Noah's grape has ever done; which doc- tors still dispute about, and bo^^s still get sick over ; bu wliich is tbe solace of the weary laborer ; the support of the ill f jd ; the refresher of over-Avrought brains ; the Boother of angry fancies ; the boasi; of the exquisite ; ths TUE EFFECTS OF SMOKING, 281 excuse of the idle: the companion of the philo30}jher; and tlie tcntli muse of the poet. I will gc neither intc the medical nor the moral question about the dream j, calming cloud. I will content myself so far with saying Tvhat may be said for everything that can bless and cur?< nankind, that, in moderation, it is at least harmless; but what is moderate and what is not, must be determined in each individual case, according to the habits and constitU' tion of the subject. If it cures asthma, it may destroy digestion ; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess, pro- duce a chronic irritability. But I will regard it in a social pomt of view ; and, first OS a narcotic, notice its effects on the individual chjiracter. I believe, then, that in moderation it diminishes the vi- olence of the passions, and particularly that of the tem- per. Interested in the subject, I have taken care to seek instances of members of the same famiJv having the same violent tempers by inheritar.wc, ot wliom the one has been calmed down by sraokinj^, and the other gone on in his passionate course. I believe that it in- duces a habit of calm reflectiveness, which causes us to take less prejudiced. perha])3 less zealous views of life, and to be therefore less irritable in oar converse Avith our fel- low creatures. I am inclined to think that the clergv, the s(juirearchy, and the peasantry are the most prejudiced and most violent classes in this country; there may be :Uif r reasons for this, but it is noteworthy that these are the classes which smoke least. On the other hand, I con fefls that it induces a certan^ lassitude, and a lounging, ea5y mods} of life, which are f.ital both to the precision of man- ners and the vivacity of conversation. The mind of a Binoker is contemplative rather than active ; and if the 288 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITSs. weed cures our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that it ia a fallacy to suppose that it encourages drinling. 5'hore is more drinking and leas smoking in this than it- any other country of the civilized world. Tlere wa? more drinking among the gentry of last century, v,\\Q never smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well together. Coffee or beer are its best accompaniments, niA the one cannot intoxicate, the other must be largely im- bibed to do so. I have observed among young bachelors that very little wine is drunk in their chambers, and that beer is gradually taking its place. The cigar, too, is an excuse for rising from the dinner-table where there are no ladies to go to. In another point of view, I am inclined to think that smoking has conduced to make the society of men when alone less riotous, less quarrelsome, and even less vicious than it was. Where young men now blow a common cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful consumption of wine, and this in their heads, they were ready and roused to any iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelor's wife. With it he can endure solitude longer, and is not forced into low society in order to shun it. With it too the idle can pass many an hour, Avhich otherwise he would have given, not to work, but to extravagant devilries With it he is no longer restless and impatient for ex-nte- ment of any kind. We never hear now of young blades issuing in bands from their wine to beat the watch oi dif turb the slumbering citizens, as we did thirty or f':'rty jesrs ago, when smoking was still a rarity : they aie aV puffing harmlessly in their chambers now. But. on the other hand, I foresee with dread a too tender allegiance to the pipe^ to the destruction of good society, and the aban* THE ETIQUETTE OF THE WEEP. 289 donment of the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear creatures ; the pipe is the worst rival a woman can have ; and it is one whose eyes she cannot scratch out ; who im- proves with age, while she herself declines ; who has au art which no woman possesses, that of never wearying her dc/otee; who is silent, yet a companion; costs little, yet gives much pleasure; who, lastly, never upbraids, and always yields the same joy. Ah ! this is a powei'ful rival to wife or maid, and no wonder that at last the woman suc- cumbs, consents, and rather than lose her lord or master, even supplies the hated herb with her own fair hands. And this is what women have come to do on the Conti- nent ; but in America they have gone further, and ad- mitted the rival to their very drawing-rooms, where the unmanly husband stretches his legs on the sofa, smokes, and spits on the carpet. Far be it from our English women to permit such habits ; and yet, as things are, a little, concession is prudent. There was not so much drinking when withdrawing-rooms were the privilege of palaces, and matrons sat over the cups of their lords, and there will not be near so much smoking where ladies are present. I have no wish to see English girls light their own cigarettes or puff their own chibouks, like the houria of Seville and Bagdad ; but I do think that, as smoking Is now so much a habit of Englishmen, it would be wise if it were made possible, within certain well-guarded lim- itations, in the society of ladies. As it is, there are rules enough to limit this indulgence One must never smoke, nor even ask to smoke, in the com- jiany of the fair. If they know that in a few minutes you will be running off to your rigar, the fair will do well — say it ia in a garden, or so — to allow you to bring it out and 13 290 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS. smoke it there. One must never smoke, again, in th streets ; that is. in daylight. The deadly crime uaj be committed, like burglary, after dark, but not before One must never smoke in a room inhabited at times bj the ladies; thus, a well-bred man who has a Avife or sisters will not offer to smoke in the dining-room after dinrer. One must never smoke in a public pluce, where ladies are or might be, for instance, a flower-show or promenade. One may smoke in a rail way -carriage in spite of by-laws, if one has first obtained the consent of every one present; but if there be a lady there, though she give her consent, smoke not. In nine cases out of ten, she will give it from good-nature. One must never smoke in a close carriage ; one may ask and obtain leave to smoke when returning from a pic-nic or expedition in an open carriage. One must never smoke in a theatre, on a race-course, nor in ckurch. This last is not. perhaps a needless caution. In the Belgian churches you see a placard announcing, " Ici on ne m'^che pas du tabac." One must never smoke when anybody shows an objection to it. One must never smoke a pipe in the streets ; one must never smoke at all in the coffee-room of a hotel. One must never smoke, without consent, in the presence of a clergyman, and one must Qover offer a cigar to any ecclesiastic over the rank of cui ate. But if you smoke, or if you are in the company of SiDokers, and are to wear your clothes in the presence of ladi''« afterwards, you must change them to smoke in. A hor,t who asks you to smoke, will generally offpr you nr, did coat for the purpose. You must also, after smoking, rinse the mouth well out, and, if possible, brush the teeth. You should never smoke in another person's house ^Jihout HABITS Al TAHLK. 291 leave, and ycu sliould not ask leave to do so, if there are ladies in the liouse. AVhen jou are going to smoke a cigar yoursjlf, you should offer one :jt the same time to anybody present, if not a clergyman or a very old man. You hould always smoke a cigai given to you. whether gvHx3 r had, and never make any remarks on its quality. Smoking reminds me of spitting, but as this is at al) times a disgusting habit. I need say nothing more than — never indulcre in it. Besides being coarse and atrocious it is very had for the health. There are some other habits which are dif/agreeaole to your company. One is that of sniffling or breathing hard through the nostrils, which is only excusable if you have a cold, and even then very disagreeable. Another is that 0*" shaking the table with your leg, a nervous habit, which you may not always be conscious of. Then again, however consoling to sing and hum to yourself, you must remember that it may annoy others, and though you may whistle when alone, " for want of thought," you Avill whistle in company only for want of consideration of oth- ers. Ladies particularly object to whistling, which is a musical, but not very melodious habit. We now come to habits at table, which are very im- portant. However agreeable a man may be in society, if he offends or disgusts by his table traits, he will soon l»e scouted from it, and justly so. There are some broad ules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant \iO help you. never help yourself. Never put a knife iito your mouth, not even with cheese, which should I:o -5aton with a fork. Never use a spoon for anytl.'ing hn\ liquids. Never touch anj'-thing edible with your fin ;vr3. Forks were uuduulnedly a later invention than fingera 292 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITa. but as we are not cannibals. I am inclined to think thej were a good one. There are some few things which you may takb up with jour fingers. Thus an epicure will eat even macaroni with his fingers ; and as sucking asparagua la more pleasant than chewing it, you may as an epicure, take it up an natural. But both these things are gener jliy eaten with a fork. Bread is of course eaten with the fingers, and it would be absurd to carve it with your knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be broken when not buttered, and you should never put a slice of dry bread to your mouth to bite a piece off. Most fresh fruit too is eaten with the natural prongs, but when you have peeled an orange or apple, you should cut it with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in break- mg it. Apropos of which I may hint that no epicure ever yet put knife to apple, and that an orange should be peeled with a spoon. But the art of peeling an orange BO as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is one that can scarcely be taught in a book. However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you whether you are a well-bred man or not ; and here let me premise that what is good manners for a small dinner ia good manners for a large one, and vice versa. Now, the first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir ! pray do not cram yourself into the table in that way ; no, nor sit a yard from it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and in the way of easy conversation ! Why, dear me, jou »re positively putting your elbows on the table, and now you have got your hands fumbling about with the spoona Mid forks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock glasses over. Can't you take your hands down, sir? Didn't you l^arn that in the nursery? Didn't your HABITS AT TABLE. 293 mamma say to you, "Never put your hands abcve the table except to carve or eat!" Oh. but some, no non- sense, sit up if you please. I can't have your fine head cf hair forming a side dish on my table : you must nut ury your face in the plate, you came to show it, and it ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion t throw your head back like that, you look like an alder- man, sir, afler dinner. Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy way. You are here to eat, drink, and be merry. You can sleep when you get home. Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got none, indeed ! Very likely, in my house. You may be sure that I never sit down to a meal without napkins. I don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and I don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well now, we are all seated, you can unfold it on your knees : no, no ; don't tuck it into your waistcoat like an alderman ; and what ! what on earth do you mean by wiping your forehead with it ? Do you take it for a towel ? Well, never mind, I am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your right, and wait till soup is handed to you. By the way, that waiting is a most important part of table manners, and as much as possible you should avoid asking for any thing or helping yourself from the table. Your soup you eat with a spoon — I don't know what else you coidd eat it with — but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that mil do, but I beg you will not make that odious noise in drinking your soup. It is louder than a dog lappin^ water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then you need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it to get the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some 294 MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS. more ; but I must just remark, that it is not tlje custoia to take tAvo helpings of soup, and it is liable to keep other people waiting, which, once for all, is a selfish and intoler able habit. But don't you hear the servant offering yea aherry ? I wish you would attend, for my servants hav quite enough to do, and can't wait all the evening whil« you finish that very mild story to Miss Goggles. Come, leave that decanter alone. I had the wine put on the table to fill up ; the servant will hand it directly, or, aa we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself, but, pray, do not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some turbot to keep him quiet. I declare he cannot make up his mind.) You are keeping my servant again, sir. Will you, or will you not, do turbot ? Don't examine it in that way ; it is quite fresh, I assure you, take or decline it Ah, you take it, but that is no reason why you should take up a knife too. Fish, I repeat, must never be touched with a knife. Take a fork in the right, and a small piece of bread in the left hand. Good, but — ? Oh ! that ia atrocious ; of course you must not swallow the bones, but you should rather do so than spit them out in that way. Put up your napkin like this, and land the said bone on your plate. Don't rub your bread in the sauce, my good man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oystera therein. Oh ! how horrid ; I declare your mouth waa wide open and full of fish. Small pieces, I beseech you and once for all, whatever you eat, keep your mouth shut ind never attempt to talk with it full. So now you have got a pate. Surely you are not takiiig two on your plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, and one is quite enough. Oh ! dear me, you are mcor- rigible. What ' a knife to cut that light, brittle p&stry ? HAB.TS AT TABLE. 295 JNo, Qor fingers, never. Nor a spoon — almost as bad Take your fork, uir, your fork ; and now you have eatenj oblige me by wiping your mouth and moustache with your nnj'kin, for there is a bit 3f the pastry hanging to the lat* tcr, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can refuse ft dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you to take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, do not be in that terrific hurry. You are not going off by the next train. Wait for the sauce and wait for vegeta- bles ; but whether you eat them or not, do not begin before everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that of a railway refreshment-room, for you have finished be- fore the person I helped first. Fast eating is bad for the digestion, my good sir, and not very good manners either. What ! are you trying to eat meat with a fork alone ? Oh ' It is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you are quite right. Let me give you a rule, — Everything that can be cut with- out a knife, should be cut with a fork alone. Eat your veg-^ etables therefore with a fork. No, there is no necessity to take a spoon for peas ; a fork in the right hand Avill do. What ! did I really see you put your knife into your mouth ? Then I must give you up. Once for all, and ever, the knife is to cut, not to help with. Pray, do not munch in that noisy manner ; chew your food well, but softly. Eat slowly. Have you not heard that Napoleon lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast ? It is a fact though. His haste caused indigestion, which made hi id ncapable of attending to the details of the battle. Yuu ee you are the last person eating at table. Sir. 1 will aoi allow you to speak to my servants in that way. If they are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do It gently, and in a low tone, and thank a servant just as 296 MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS. much as you would his master. Ten to one he is as good B man : and because he is your inferior in position, is the very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh ! it ia of nc use tc ask me to take wine ; far from pacifying me, It will only make me more angry, for I tell you the custoir^ ii quite gone out, except in a few country villages, and at a mess- table. Nor need you ask the lady to do so. How* e^er, there is this consolation, if you should ask anyone to take wine with you, he or she cannot refuse, so you Lave your own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me to hob and nob, or trinquer in the French fashion with arms encircled. Ah ! you don't know, perhaps, that when a lady trinques in that way with you, you have a right tc finish off Avith a kiss. Very likely indeed, in England i But it is the custom in familiar circles in France, but then we are not Frenchmen. Will you attend to your lady, sir ? You did not come merely to eat, but to make your- self agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at Thebes; talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some pudding. No knife — no, no. A spoon if you like, but better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon ; there is a small one handed you, take that. Say "no." That is the fourth time wine has been banded to you, and I am sure you have had enough. Decline this time if you please. Decline that dish too Are you going to eat of everything that is handed ? I pity you if you do. No, you must not ask for more cheese, and you must eat it with your fork. Break the rusk with your fingers. Good. You are drinking a glass of old port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never drink a whole glassful of anything at once. Well, here is the wino and dessert. Take whichevei HABITS AT TABLE. 297 irme you like, but remember jou must keep to that, and not change about. Before you go up stairs I will alloTt you a glass of sherry after your claret, but otherwise Jriuk i)f one wine only. You don't mean to say you are hclp- lEg yourself to wine before the ladies. At least offer it to the one next to you, and then pass it on, gently, not with a push like that. Do not drink so fast ; you will hurry me in passing the decanters, if I see that your glass is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are gone, but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And now they are gone, draw your chair near mine, and I will try and talk more pleasantly to you. You will come out admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching. What ! you are excited, you are talking loud to the col- onel. Nonsense. Come and talk easily to me or to your nearest neighbor. There, don't drink any more wine, for I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me to make a move. You have had enough of those walnuts ; yow are keeping me, my dear sir. So now to coffee (one cup) and tea, which I beg you will not pour into your saucer to cool. Well, the dinner has done you good, and me too Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so. CHAPTER Vni. THE CARRIAGE OF LAUIES. ' T(- be ciyil with e'8 your fat friend ?" It is well known that the Regent grieved at that time most bitterly over his grow* mg corpulency, and the Beau was avenged. But my advice to anybody who wishes to cut an ao uaintance is, moit emphatically. Don't. In the first place, it is vulgar, and a custom which the vulgar afiecr. It ht pretentious, and seems to say, " You are not good enough for me to know." All pretension is vulgar. In the next place, it does the cutter as much injury as the cuttee. The latter, if worthlesSj revenges himself by denouncing tha THE CUT. 815 former as stuck up, unpolite, ill-bred , if Himself well- bred, he says nothing about it, but inwardly condemns and despises you. Now, in a world where love is at a premium and even respect is not cheap, it is a pity to add. by foolish ^ridc, to the number of those who dislike you; but, if lifre were no other consideration, it is extremely unchris- tian, to say the least of it. It is a giving of offence ; and woe to him by whom offences come. It is the consequence either of pride or of judging your neighbor, both of which are bad faults. Lastly, it raises up for ever between two people a barrier which i. either years nor regret can sur mount. It is a silent but desperate quarrel, but, unlike other quarrels, it is never followed by a reconciliation. The Christian law used to be, " If you have aught againit /our brother, go and expostulate with him." The mode, q iocial law — not, however, the law of good society — mak 3 4,n amendment : " Do not take the trouble to go to him- • it will do no good — but cut him dead when you meet, an 3 4J0 get rid of him for ever." Yes, "Dead!" Dead^ mdeed ; for all the love, all the forgiveness there mighi flow between you, he is as good as dead to you, what ia more, yoit have killed him. But the cut js often a silly measure, and far too promptly resorted to. At Bath you have known the Simpkinses, and even been intimate with them, but in Town you take t into your head they are "'inferior;" you meet and »ut them. Well, a fortnight later, you find that Ladj So-and-so is particularly partial to the Simpkinses. ' Dfl fou know those charming girls ?" she asks, and how foolish you then feel. Or again, Captain Mactavish is your best and most amusing friend ; slander whispers in your ear, " Mactavish was cashiered for fraudulent transactions * 816 THE PROMENADE, ETC. You go out, happen to meet, and cut him dead. The next day the truth comes out. It is another Mactavish who wiia cashiered, and jour friend is a model of honor. Wliat cyu you do? You cannot tell him you made a mistake It "vvould then be his turn to take a high hand. " No no '' says he, when you offer to renew the friendship, " if you could so soon believe evil of me, you are not the mau for IMactavish. Besides, you cut me yesterday, and I can forgive everything but a cut." Or again, papa is alarmed at the attentions of young Montmorency. " A pennilefa boy making love to Matilda !" he cries indignantly, and orders the said Matilda and her mamma to cut him. Mont- morency, in pique, runs off to jNIiss Smith, offers, and marries her. It is then discovered that Montmorency has a bachelor uncle whose whole fortune will come to him, and Matilda is miserable. But there are some cases in which a cut becomes the sole means of ridding one's-self of annoyance, and with young ladies especially so. A girl has no other means of escaping from the familiarity of a pushing and thick- fikinned man. She cannot always be certain that the people introduced to her are gentlemen ; pleased with them at first, she gives them some encouragement, till some oc- casion or other lays bare the true character of her new acquaintance. What is she to do ? He requires so little to encouriige him, that even a recognition would be sufficient ♦o bring him on. She has nothing left but to cut him isad. The cut, however, should be positively the last re- source. There are many ways, less offensive and more lignified, of showing that you do not wish for intimacy, the stiff bow without a smile is enough to show a man of any preception that he need not make farther advances THE CUT. 81? *nd as for cutting people of real or imaginary inferioritj it is the worst of vulgarity. We laugh at the silly pride of the small dressmaker who declines to go through the kitchen. " Not accustomed to associate with menials," he tells you, and knocks at the front door ; we smile at the costermonger who cannot lower himself to recognise the crossing-sweeper ; and how absurd to those of a higher class than our own must the Smiths, whose father was a physician, appear, when they cut the Simpkinses, whose progenitor is only a surgeon, and so on. But if you have once known people you should always know them, if they have not done anything to merit indignation. If you have once been familiar with the Simpkinses, you are not only inconsistent and vulgar, but you accuse yourself of former want of perception, if now you discover that they are too low for you to know. But, if a cut must be made, let it be done with as little oflfensiveness as possible. Let the miserable culprit not be tortured to death, or broken in the social wheel, like a Damiens, however treasonable his offence. Never, on any account, allow him to speak to you, and then staring him in the face, exclaim, " Sir, I do not know you !" or, at. ome people, trying to make rudeness elegant, would say, " Sir, I have not the honor of your acquaintance ;" nor behead him with the fixed stare ; but rather let him see that you have noticed his approach, and then turn year head away. If he is thick-skinned or daring enough to come up to you after that, bow to him stiffly and pass oil In this way you avoid insolence, and cause less of tha destroyer of good manners — confusion. There are some definite rules for cutting. A gentle- man must never cut a lady under any circumstances. An 818 THE PROMENADE, iJTC. unmarried lady should never cut a married one. A ser- vant of whatever class — for there are servants up to royalty itself — should never cut his master ; near relationi should never cut one another at all ; and a clergyman should never cut anybody, because it is at best an unchiis tion action. Perhaps it may be added that a superior should never cut his inferior in rank ; he has many other WRys of annihilating him. Certainly it may be laid down that people holding temporary official relations must Avaive icester often to kiss the Virgin Queen on her bps, " which," we are told, " she took right heartily,'' 1 cannot say ; bat at all events in this day, the kissing of the lips is reserred for lovers, and should scarcely be per- foimed in public. But the kiss of friendship and rela- tionship on the cheeks or forehead is still kept up a little, and might be much more common. I like to see a young man kiss his mother on her wrinkled brow ; it shows " there is no humbug about him." I like to see sisters kiss, and old friends when they meet again. But I may like what I like. The world is against me, and as it is a delicate subject I will say no more on it, save only this, — As a general rule, this act of affection is excluded from public eyes in this country, and there are people who are ashamed even to kiss a brother or father on board the steamer which is to take him away for some ten or twenty years. But then there are people in England who are ashamed of showing any feeling, however natural, how- ever pure. This is a matter in which I would not have etiquette interfere. Let the world say it is rustic, or even vulgar, to kiss your friends on the platform of a railway, before they start or when they arrive. It is never vulgar to be loving, and love that is real love will show itself, though there were ten Acts of Parliament against it. " A cold hand and a warm heart" is an old saw, which may be true for the temperature of the skin, but is cer- tainly not so for the mode of pressing it. A warm heart, I am persuaded, gives a warn shake of the hand, and n man must be a hypocrite, who can shake yours heartily 824 THE PROMENADE, ETC. while lie hates you. The hand is after all the most natu- ral limb to salute with. Next to those of the lips, th« nerves of touch are most highly developed in the fingers, which may be accounted for by the perpetual friction and iriitation to which they are subjected, for Ave know that th^se portions of the skin are the most ticklish which un- dergo the most friction. However this may be, the hand is the most convenient member to salute with. The toe rubbing process, for instance, must subject one to the risk of toppling over in any but a dignified manner ; " mak- ing a knee'' was liable to be followed by breaking a nose, if the balance were not carefully preserved, and as for the total prostration system, I feel convinced that it must have been given up by common consent after dinner, and by corpulent personages. But the charm of the hand, aa a saluting member, lies in the fact of its grasping power which enables the shaker to vary the salute at pleasure. The freemasons well know this, and though they begin the mysterious salute with signs for the eye, they are raie- ly satisfied till they have followed them up by the giasp, which varies for almost every grade, for apprentice, mas- ter, royal arch, knight templar, and all their other absur- dities. My worthy masons, do not suppose that you possess a monopoly of this art. There is as cunning a freemasonry in all society, and the mode of taking, grasp- ing, and shaking the hand, varies as much according to circumstances, and even more, than your knuckling sys- iem. First, there is the case where two hands simply take hold of one another. This is the mode of very shy peo- ple, and of two lovers parting in tears : but then in the »ne case the hold is brief, in the other continued. Next, HAND-SHAKINO 326 there is the case where one hand is laid clammily in the other, which slightly presses the fingers, not going dowL* to the palm. This is a favorite mode with ladies, espe- cially young ladies, towards slight acquaintance ; but ffhen my heart flutters a little for Mariana's smile, I should be piqued indeed, nay, shocked, if there were nothing more than fingers laid in my hand, no responsive thumb to complete the manoeuvre, and when Sybilla told me she could not love me, and when she would not listen, but hurried away up the terrace steps, and turned to give me the last — last shake of a hand, I have never touched again, I cannot tell you what of despair she saved me in the friendly warmth — I do not say aflection — with which she wrung my hand that passionately clung round hers. Ah ! Sybilla, better have left that hand with me, have given it me for ever, than to the wealthy wig-wearing, rouged and powdered bear, to whom they sold you after- wards. Next, there is the terribly genteel salute of the under- bred man, who with a smirk on his face, just touches the tips of your fingers, as if they were made of glass ; there is the blunt honest shake of the rough, who lays out hia hand with the palm open and the heart in the hollow of it, stretches it well out, and shakes and rattles the one you put into it ; there is the pouncing style of him who affects but does not feel cordiality, who brings the angle between thumb and finger down upon you like gaping shears • there is the hailing style of the indifferent man who seems to say to your hand, " Come and be shaken ;" there is the style of the man who gives your hand one toss, as if he were ringing the dinner-bell ; and anothei bell-ringing style ia that of milady, who shakes her ow« S26 THE PROMENADE, ETC. hand from tlie wrist with a neat fine little movement, and does not care whether yours shakes in it or not ; there ia genius who clasps your hands in both of his and beama into your face ; and there is love who seizes it to press it tighter and more tightly, and sends his whole soul through the fingers. But the styles are infinite ; there is the mesmeric style where the shaker seems to make a pass down you befor* getting at your hand ; there is papa's style, coming down with an open-handed smack, that you may hear half the length of Parliament Street ; there is the solemn style, where the elbow is tucked into the side, like the wing of a trussed fowl, and the long fingers are extended with the thumb in close attendance ; there is the hearty double- knock style of three rapid shakes ; there is the melan- choly style, where the hand is heaved up once or twice slowly and lowered despairingly ; there is the adulatory style, where it is raised towards the bent head as if to be •nspected ; there is the hail-fellow style, where the arm ia stretched out sideways, and the eyes say, "There's my hand, old boy !" Then of styles to be always avoided, there is the swinging style, where your arm is tossed from Bide to side ; there is the wrenching style, by which your knuckles are made to ache for five minutes after ; and there is the condescending style, where two fingers are held out to you as a great honor. But, the best style of all, me judice, is the hearty single clasp, full-handed, warm, momentary, just shaken enough to make the gentle grasp well felt but not painful. The etiquette of hand-shaking is simple. A man has ao right to take a lady's hand till it is offered. It were a HAND-SHAKING. 827 robbery which she would punish. He has even Josa right to pinch or to retain it. Two ladies shake hands gently and softly. A young lady gives her hand, but docs nol shake a gentleman's, unless she is his friend. A lady should always rise to give her hand ; a gentleman, ol course, never dares do so seated. On introduction in a room, a married lady generally offers her hand, a young lady not ; in a ball-room, where the introduction is to dancing, not to friendship, you never shake hands ; and as a general rule, an introduction is not followed by shak- ing hands, only by a bow. It may perhaps be laid down, that the more public the place of introduction, the less hand-shaking takes place ; but if the introduction be par- ticular, if it be accompanied by personal recommendation, Buch as, ''1 want you to know my friend Jones," or, i^ Jones comes with a letter of presentation, then you give Jones your hand, and warmly too. Lastly, it is the priv- ilege of a superior to offer or withhold his or her hand, 80 that an inferior should never put his forward first. There are other modes of salutation, which, being too familiar, are well avoided, such as clapping a man on the shoulder, digging him in the ribs, and so fox-th. The French rarely shake hands, and only with intimate friends. They then give the left hand, because that is nearer the heart, la main du coeur. The most cordial way of shak- ing hands is to give both at once, but this presupposes certain or uncertain amount of affection. When you meet a friend in the street, it must depend on the amount of familiarity whether you walk with him or not, but with a lady you must not walk unless invited either verbally or tacitly A young and single mas should 828 THE PROMENADE, ETC. never walk vrith a young lady iii public places, unleai especially asked to do so. How Sybilla's words thrilled tbrcugh me, when she said. " Mamma, I am gokig to walk home with Mr. , if you have no objection." 1 Had not proposed it, it was her own doing. No wonder I am a bachelor still, and she the Amy in Locksley Hall ! If you walk with a lady alone in a large town, particu- larly in London, you must offer her your arm ; elsewhere it is unnecessary, and even marked. In driving with ladies, a man must take the back seat of the carriage, and when it stops, jump out first and offei his hand to let them out. In your own carriage you al- ways give the front seat to a visitor, if you are a man, but a lady leaves the back seat for a gentleman. In railway travelling you should not open a conversa- tion with a lady unknown to you, until she makes some advance towards it. On the other hand, it is polite to speak to a gentleman. If, however, his answers be curt and he evinces a desire to be quiet, do not pursue the conversation. On your part, if addressed in a railwaj^ carriage, you should always reply politely. If you have a newspaper, and others have not, you should offer it to the person nearest to you. An acquaintance begun on a railway may sometimes go farther, but, as a general rule, it terminates when one of the parties leaves the carriage. A Frenchman always takes off his hat in a carriage where there are ladies, whether a private or public one. Thia 13 a politeness which really well-bred Englishmen imitate. If you go in an omnibus (and there is no reason why s gentleman should not do so), it is well to avoid conver- Bation, but if you enter into it, beware of inflammatory IN PUBLIC CONVEYANCES 829 subjects. An acquaintance of mine once talked politics to a radical in an omnibus. The two got heated, and more heuted, and my acquaintance — for he was no fi lend, -I assure you — ended by driving his opponent's head through the window of the vehicle. It was agrtehble— ter? — to see his name next day Id the police reports. CHAPTER X, BR PRIVATE. VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. fjBKRE are manj great men who go unrewarded for the lervices they render to humanitj. Nay, even their names are lost, while we daily bless their inventions. One of these is he, if it was not a lady, who introduced the use of visiting cards. In days of yore a slate or a book waa kept, and you wrote your name on it. But then that sould only be done when your acquaintance was " not at home." To the French is due the practice of making the delivery of a card serve the purpose of the appearance of the individual, and with those who have a large acquaint- ance this custom is becoming very common in large towns. The visit or call is, however, a much better institution than is generally supposed. It has its drawbacks. It wastes much time ; it necessitates much small talk. It obliges one to dress on the chance of finding a friend at home ; but for all this it is almost the only means of making an acquaintance ripen into a friendship. In the visit all the strain, which general society somehow neces- iitatcs, is thrown off. A man receives you in his room? cordially, and makes you welcome, not to a stiff dinner, but an easy-chair and conversation. A lady, who in the ball-room or party has been compelled to limit her conver- sation, can here speak more freely. The talk can descend from generalities to pei-sonal inquiries, and need I say tJiat il (880) LETTERS Of INTRODUCTION. 33J ycu wish to know a joung lady truly, you must see hei at home, and by daylight. The main points to be observed about visits are the pro- per occasions and the proper hours. Nciw, between actual friends there is little need of etiquette in these respects A friendly visit may be made at any time, on any occasion True, you are more welcome when the business of the day is over, in the afternoon rather than the morning, and you must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal-times. But, on the other hand, many people receive visits in the eve- ning — another French custom — and certainly this is the •best time to make them. As however, during the season, you have but a slight chance of finding your friends at home in the evening, another custom has been imported from France into the best circles of English society, that, namely, of fixing a day in the week on which to receive evening visitors with- out the ceremony of a party. The visit may then last from one to two hours, and be made either in morning or evening dress, the latter being the better. However, this custom is not yet a common one, but I beg to recommend it to those who wish to have friends as well as mere ac- quaintance. The principal class of visits, then, is those of ceremony. The occasions for these are — with letters of introduction, ifter certain parties, and to condole or congratulate. In the first case, letters aie rarely if ever given to per- lons in Town. The residence in town is presumed to be transitory, and letters of introduction are only addressed to permanent residents. On the other hand, they are ne- cessary in the country, particularly when a family take up their residence in a district, and wish to enter the betii 882 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. Bociety of the place. In this last case the inhabitants al« ways cull first on the new-comer, unless he brings a lettei of introduction, ■when he is the first to call, but insteaij of going in, leaves it with a 3ard or cards, and waits till this formal visit is returned. In returning a visit made with a letter it is necessary to go in if the family is at home. " A letter of introduction," says La Fontaine, ' ia a draft at sight, and you must cash it." In large towns there is no such custom. It would be impossible for the residents to call on every new comer, and half of the new arrivals might be people whose acquaintance they would not wish to improve. If however, you take a letter of introduction with any special object, whether of business or of a private or particular character, you are right to send in the letter with your card, and ask for admission. Such letters should only be given by actual friends of the persons addressed, and to actual friends of their own. Never, if you are wise, give a letter to a person whom you do not know, nor address one to one whom you know slightly. The letter of introduction, if actually given to (ts bearer, should be left open, that he may not incur the fate of the Persian messenger, who brought tablets of intro- duction recommending the new acquaintance to cut hia bead off. A letter of this kind must therefore be carefully worded stating in full the name of the person introduced, but with as few remarks about him as possible. It is gen- erally sufficient to say that he is a friend of yours, whom you trust your other friend will receive with attention, &c. In travelling it is well to have as many letters as possible but not to pin your faith on them. In foreign towns it is the custom for the new comer to call on the residents first jiiflt the reverse of ours. VISITS OF CEKEMONT. 838 Ceremonial visits must be made the day aft^r a ball when it will suffice to leave a card ; within a daj or two after a dinner party, when you ought to make the visit pei'sonally, unless the dinner was a semi-official one, such U) tUe Lord Mayor's ; and within a week of a small party, when the call should certainly be made in person. All these visits should be short, lasting from twenty minutea to half-an-hour at the most. There is one species of "bore" more detestable than any other — the man, namely, who comes and sits in your drawing-room for an hour or two, preventing you from going out to make your own calls, or interrupting the calls of others. It is proper when you have been some time at a visit, and another caller is an- nounced, to rise and leave, not indeed immediately, as if you shunned the new arrival, but after a moment or two. In other cases, when you doubt when to take your leave, you must not look at your watch, but wait till there is a lull in the conversation. Visits of condolence and congratulation must be made about a week after the event. If you are intimate with the person on whom you call, you may ask in the first case for admission ; if not, it is better only to leave a card; and make your " kind inquiries" of the servant, who m generally primed in what manner to answer them. In visits of congratulation you should always go in, and be hearty in your congratulations. Visits of condolence are terrible inflictions to both receiver and giver, but they may be made less so by avoiding, as much as consistent with sympathy, any allusion to the past. The receivei does well to abstain from tears. A lady of my acquaint- ance, who had lost her husband, was receiving such a visit in her best crape. She wept profusely for some time upon 334 VISITS. INTRODUCTION, ETC. tlie best of broad-hemined cambric handkerchiefs, and then turning to her visitor said : " I am sure you will be gla-d to hear that Mr. B has left me most comfortably pio- ^ided for. "Hmc illcB lacrymm. Perhaps they ■^'0uld have been more sincere if he had left her without a penny. i\.t the same time, if you have not sympathy and heart enough to pump up a little condolence, you will do better to avoid it. but take care that your conversation is not too gay. Whatever you may feel, you must respect the sor- rows of others. On marriage, cards are sent round to such people as you wish to keep among your acquaintance, and it is then their part to call first on the young couple, when within distance. I now come to a few hints about calling in general ; and first as to the time thereof. In London, the limits of call- ing hours are fixed, namely, from three to six, but in the country people are sometimes odious enough to call in the morning before lunch. This should not be done even by intimate friends. Everybody has, or ought to have, hia or her proper occupation m the morning, and a caller will then sometimes find the lady of the house unprepared. It is necessary before calling to ascertain the hours at which your friends lunch and dine, and not to call at these. -A ceremonial call from a slight acquaintance ought to be re turned the next day. or at longest within three days, unless the distance be great. In the same way, if a stranger COTies to stay at the house of a friend, in the country, or in small country towns, every resident ought to call ol hia: or her, even if she be a young lady, as soon as pos- sible after the arrival. These calls should be made in per« ion, and returned the next day. LEAVING CARDS. 335 The card ia the next point. It should be perfectly simple A lady's card is larger than a gentleman's. The former may be glazed, the latter not. The name, \^ith a simple " Mr." or " Mrs." before it is sufficient, except in the case of acknowledged rank, as "The Earl of Ducie,' " Colonel Marjoribanks," " The Hon. Mrs. Petre," an 80 forth. All merely honorary titles or designations of position or office should be left out, except in cards des- tined for purely official visits. Thus our ambassador at Paris returns official visits with a card thus : " L'Ambas- Badeur de Sa Majest«'; Britannique," but those of acquaint- ance with " Lord Cowley" simply. The address may be put in ^he corner of the card. The engraving should be in simple Italian writing, not Gothic or Roman letters, very, small and without any flourishes. Young men have adopted recently the foreign custom of having their ChriS' tian and surname printed without the "Mr." A young lady does not require a separate card as long as she is liv- ing with her mother; her name is then engraved under tier mother's, as : — M7's. Jones Brownsmiih. Miss Jones Brownsrnith. Or if there be more than one daughter presented, thus :— Mrs. Jones Broionsmith. The Miss Jones Brownsmiths. Which latter form can be defended as more idiomatic, if less grammatical, than " The Misses Jones Brownsmith ;" but it is a matter of little importance. I cannot enter her« on a grammatical discussion, and the one form is as com- DQon as the other. You will find a small card-case neater and more oonven- 886 VISITS. INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. ient tLan a pocket hiok ; and in leaving cards ym musl thus distribute them : one for the lady of the house and lier daughters — the latter are sometimes represented bj^ turning up the edge of the card — one for the master of the house and if there be a grown up son or near male ro* lition staying in the house, one for him. But though cards are cheap, you must never leave more than three at a time at the same house. As married men have, or are supposed to have, too much to do to make ceremonial calls, it is the custom for a wife to take her husband's cards with her, and to leave one or two of them with her own. If, on your inquiring for the lady of the house, the servant replies, " Mrs. So-and-so is not at home, but Miss So-and- so is," you should leave a card, because young ladies do not receive calls from gentlemen, unless they are very in- timate with them, or have passed the rubicon of thirty summers. It must be remembered, too, that where there is a lady of the house, your call is to her, not to her hus- band, except on business. The Roman Assembly used to break up if thunder was heard, and in days of yore a family assembly was often broken up very hurriedly at the thunder of the knocker, one or other of the daughters exclaiming, " I am not dressed, mamma !" and darting from the lOom ; but ladies ought to he dressed sufficiently to receive visitors in th« afternoon. As nerves have grown more delicate of late 7ears, it is perhaps a blessing that knockers have been superseded by bells. Where they remain, however, yog should not rattle them fiercely, as a powdered Mercury does, nor should you pull a bell ferociously. Havip-g entered the house, you take up -with you to the drawing-room both hat and cane, but leave an umbrella ia cor NIRT- VISITING. 387 the hall. In France it is usual to leave u great- coat down stairs also, but as calls are made in this country in morn- ing dress, it is not necessary to do so. It is not usual to introduce people at morning calls iu large towns : in the country it is sometimes done, not al ways The law of introductions is, in fact, to force nl one into an acquaintance. You should therefore ascertair beforehand whether it is agreeable to both to be introduced but if a lady or a superior expresses a wish to know a gen- tleman or an inferior, the latter two have no right to de- cline the honor. The introduction is of an inferior (\\ hicb position a gentleman always holds to a lady) to the supe- rior. You introduce Mr. Smith to Mrs. Jones, or Mr. A. to Lord B., not vice versa. In introducing two persons, it is not necessary to lead one of them up by the hand, bu* it is suffioient simply to precede them. Having thus brought the person to be introduced up to the one to whom be is to be presented, it is the custom, even when the con- Bent has been previously obtained, to say, with a slight bow to the superior personage : " Will you allow me to intro- duce Mr. — ?" The person addressed replies by bowing to the one introduced, who also bows at the same time, while the introducer repeats their names, and then retires, eaving them to converse. Thus, for instance, in present- ing Mr. Jones to Mrs. Smith, you will say, " Mrs. Smith, albw me to introduce Mr. Jones." and while they are en- gaged in bowing, you will murmur, "Mrs. Smith--Mr. Jones/' and escape. If you have to present three or four peoph to said Mrs. Smith, it will suffice to utter their re- ■pective names without repeating that of the lady. A well-bred person always receives visitors at whateve? time they may call, or whoever they may be; but if yon 15 338 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS. ETC. are occupied and cannot afford to be interrupted hy a mere ceremony, you should instruct the servant befoi ehand to «.trangti, that while Scripture is ransacked for texts inculcating filmsgiviug and the duty of feeding the hungry, those words of Solomon, wuich denounce the man who gives to the rich, should be so completely overlc-oked. It is ro 844 DIXNERS, DINERS AND DINNER-PARTIES. mnrkable that the man who can with diflBcultj' be brought to give a ten-pound note to keep a hundred souls alive, should, of his own free-will, spend twice the sum once 8 week in feasting with dainties some dozen of his fellow- ejcatures, who can scarcely get up the requisite amount of appetite to enjoy them. But, after all, it is not so strange, for men are selfish, and the good-will of a few rich is more highly prized than the gratitude of many poor. But let this pass, and let us console ourselves by the reflection that common sense, if no higher feeling, will in time simplify our social banquets ; and that charity, some fifty years hence, will see no harm, as it now Avould, \v calling in the blind, the halt, and the needy, to partake of the dishes we now spread only for the rich, the fash* ionable, and the appetiteless. One rule, however, we may gain at once from these considerations, that only the wealthy should be dinner-givers, and the man who cannot " affoixl" £k> for the starving, should on no account af- ford .£20 for the well fed. A dinner, like a pun, should never be made public un- less it be very good, but at the same time modern im- provements enable it to be that without being a. so very ixpensive. The goodness of a dinner does not consist in the rarity and costliness of the viands, but in the manner m which they are cooked and served, in the various con comitants which contribute to give it brilliance and ele gaiice, and yet more in the guests who eat it. This last point is, in fact, the most important, so that the invitation is only a second consideration to the dinner itself The rules for invitations, and some hints whom to invite are given in the next chapter by my colleague WHOM TO INVITE. 345 I ne<^ give but a few hints of my own. Pcof le t^hr. liavf a large acquaintunce and give dinners, should ktcp a book in which to v/rite the names of tliose \\ho coLnpo-if each party, which prevents the mistake of asking the s.iiiic- person twice, and Df bringing precisely the same people together again when their turn comes round. There are indeed some privileged persons like myself, agreeable old bachelors, who, being free from encumbrance and full ol talk, are always welcome and generally wanted. In fact, Buch men run a risk of being known as professional dineis out, like the convivfB of Rome, so that it is a greatei charity not to invite thera too often. And this reminda me that you should not ask a man without his wife, though you may leave his sons and daughters out of the calculation. Then, again, the very ancient had better be left to dine at home, unless, like Lady Morgan, thej preserve their conversational powers. The invitation must be answered as soon as possible, and the answer addressed to the lady of the house. But the question whom to invite, is one which cannot be so easily answered. First, there are some people whom you timst invite sooner or later, namely, those at whose houses you have dined ; because you may neglect every Christian duty, and be less blamed than if you omit this social one. This is certainly absurd, and society be- comes almost low when dinner-parties take the semblance f a tacit contract, in which the one party undertakes to feed the other to-day, if the other will feed him in return before the end of the season. Yet I have known people not at all ashamed to complain that they have not been asked to iinner, and not blush to say, "They owo, us a iinner, you know." Somehow, then, you must manag« 15* 846 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARI.ES. to acquit yourself of these dinner debts before the seasoa is over. Society condemns you severely if you do nol pay your debts of hospitality. Of course this applica only to people who are known to be in the habit of giv'n^ dinners. Those who from one cause or another do n: I ]r fr3 a-e still invited, though not so often. But when you have done your duty religiously in 'his respect, you have the world before you. Where to choose ? Now, after taking into due consideration the congruities and sympathies of those you may select, the tfiiief point is to invite men and women — an equal number ftf each of course — who can talk. By this I do not mean four rapid utterers of small-talk, who can coin more pretty nonsense in half an hour than a modern novelist in nhree months, but men, who havino; gone through the ■sforld, and tamed their Pegasus with the curb of experi- ence, not being bound, Mazeppa-like, on the back of some •wretched hobby, can gallop smoothly over the themes ihat life and the newspapers supply to wit ; men who i^iew life calmly from the height to wliich they have jlimbed, without prejudice and without awe ; and women who are capable of under standing and answering such men as these. But you m.ust carefully avoid the eatcr^ b} which I mean both the gowmand and the gourmet, both the aldermar whose motto is quantity, and the epicure who cries for quality. Of Avliat good is it to pander to the greediness of a vile being, whose soul lies in the Itomaoh, as the Greeks affirmed that it always did, and whose mind and thoughts are much in the same region. If such men can talk at all, it is only of eating, and ii you do not feed them with the especial dainties they look for, their gratitude shows itself in sneers at your bospi« WHOM TO INVITE. 347 taiity when tliej next dine out. AYits, again, ani mer who think tliemsclves to be so, should never be askec singly, for they will engross the conversation, and silence the rest. When asked in numbers, they keep one anotLci ifithin limits. The number of the guests is a difficulty. People find that it is more economical to give large than small din- ners, and v.ill therefore continue to go on in solemn gran- deur. But the best dinners are those at which all t guests can join in a common conversation, to which tLj host being within hearing of all his party can give th> proper lead. Such dinners alone can be agreeable to allj because no one is dependent on the liveliness of his or her nearest neighbor for conversation. As it is, too many a< dinner is nothing better than an eating quadrille, where each person has a partner and is at his mercy ; only tiint the dance lasts not an eighth of the time which the leashed diner is compelled to pass in company with his partner. Brillat Savarin says, that no dinner should have more than twelve guests, and the old rule was, "neither less than the graces, nor more than tlie muses;" but London dinners oftener exceed these limits than the reverse, while country dinners mount up to twenty. Indeed, with some senseless people, the i:clat of the dinner seems to consist in the number of tlie guests, and the more you can feed the m.ore your glory. I am inclined to think that the •jld 2ule is the best ; but as it was made for tables at ifhjch la lies never appeared, some alteration must bo made in it, and we may say generally, that an even num- ber is better than an odd one, and that it should be either six, eight, or ten. The first of course is reserved for jroui' dinners of honor; when the men jou admire and the B-18 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES. woiTiOn jou love — (two of each, for no man can fintl inort than that number in the world) — dine with you and youi wife ; the second is your sociable dinner, at whicli all the guests are more or less known to one another ; and tht^ tliird is your company dinner. If you exceed these num- bers, you may do what you will to make your dinnei perfect, your guests will spoil it all by falling into coup- les and eating in quadrille. But there is another reason for limiting the number, namely, that to give a good dinner, your means, your es- tablishment, your dining-room, the capacities of the table, and so forth, must all be taken into consideration. But if the dinner is dven to fourteen, sixteen, or even eia;h- teen as is now common in large towns, you must either increase your establishment and your expense not a little, or be content, as people are, to give them the regular " feed," in which everybody knows beforehand what they ■will have. One cook, for instance, cannot serve up j^ro- verly for more than a dozen people ; three men cannot wait properly on more than ten ; and a table which will hold more than that number will be so hirge as tosepa- rate the opposite guests too far for easy and general con- versation. Lastly, if your means enable you to dine a hundred or a thousand every week, you would be a mad- man to do so ; you might as well give your dinner to two only, for what of that essential harmony, that communion of mind and spirit. " the feast of reason and the flow of »:^ul," can there possibly be between a hundred, nay. even ecventy people, some of them so far from one unother X\\\\ they could scarcely be heard without a speaking-trumpet? Having well selected your guests, you consider in what room to dine them, for the regulai dining-rocm is not THE DINING-ROOM. 849 ftlways the most comfortable. If the party be iinall — ais or eight — a large dining-room will look very ghastly, and it should he borne in mind that dinner-givers of good taste study comfort more than grandeur. A"hich latter i simply vulgar whether in the house of a duke or a hnbcr dasher. The furniture of our dining rooms is certainly imj roving a little. Nothing could be more chilling tc the mind and appetite alike than the stone-colored walls^ displaying the usual magnificent oil-paintiiigs of an un- known school, the bust of the master of the feast at one end looking almost less solemn than the original under it. the huge table with its cumbrous silver adornments, the Btiff side -board and the stiffer chairs. Whether it was a Puritanical attempt at simplicity which insisted that if we would have a good dinner we should, iuortify the flbsh with bad concomitants, or whether it was a foolish fancy that a dining-room should be cold, though tlie dinrici were hot, I cannot say ; but I feel that the man who makes dining a study — and he who gives dinners should in charity do so — must go farther in the improvements of the room than we yet have. Light and an air of comfort are the main essentials. The temperature must not, even in summer, be too low, for sitting at dinner produces a chill in itself Thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaumur are J5xed for it by the author of the Phijsiohgie dugont ; but whatever the exact temperature, it must be obtained before dinner by lighting the fire some hours previously, and allowing it to burn rather low until near the end of the meal, when it must be replenished. There are very few days in an English summer when ;t small fire aftet dinner is not acceptable. Ic very cjld weather, when a large one is necessary, it is not easy to manage so thai 850 DINNERS, DINERS AND L[XNE?v-PARTllib. one-half of the guests shall not have their backs roa.n

that " sherry, champagne, port, and claret"' are indispensable to the dinner-table. I should be inclined to knock off two of these, champagne and port, and put in a light Rhenish in their place. Port has become al- most an impossibility, for age is a sine qii non of this ■ivine, and unless you have long had a good cellar, you have very little chance of obtaining it good. In fact, though still placed on the table, the use of it seem to be restricted to a few old gentlemen, who carmot give up their customary drink. George the Fourth declared for sherry, and I cannot help thinking he was right. At any rate, bad port IS less drinkable than bad sherry, and as you will too often have only this choice of evils, I beg to hint how the alternative may be most prudently taken. Champagne, again, should be very good to be enjoyable, and it is also becoming more and more difficult to procure. Both port and champagne are doctored for every European market^ and a friend of mine visiting a famous wine-grower at Epernay, tasted from the stiDie. cask no less than five dif- ferent wines, all manufactured in a few hours out of the tlie same original juice. I suspect tha« even an En<-lish wine-merchant can produce as many different " vintages'' flora 'Jie same stuff, as M. Iloudiu does wines from the some bottle. Tlic mingling of water with wine is said io have Ijeen discovered by an accident. A party of old Greeks, not 856 DINNEK", DINERS, AND DINNER- PARI IBS. famous for sobriety, had been drinking on the sea-shote., when a storm arose, and in rapid haste they retreated to a CJive to take shelter. Probably t^jey ■were not in a fit condi tion for carrying their goblets with them steadily At an^ rate they left them on the shore, and when the storm waa over, found their Avine converted by the rain into wine and water. The allegation that the niixtu/e spoiis two good things, as two good people are sometimes spoiled by marriage, 13 one which a tippler will support more zealously than au epicure. Mr. Walker, in the " Original," recommendg ^ven port and water ; but however this may be, some Bor- deaux wines gain, rather than lose, by the mixture, and you may thus have, to accompany your eating, a cooling drink which will not destroy your taste for the good wines to follow it. A sensible man avoids variety in drinking. One French wine during dinner, and sherry after it, or a German wine for the meal, and claret for dessert, will leave you much happier than mingling sherry, champagne, claret, and port. Great care should be used in decanting wine, so as not to shake or cork it. Claret appears in a glass jug, but rare French wines, particularly Boiirgojjne and the Vins da Midi, should be brought up and placed on the table in their baskets, as decanting spoils them. Although the guest should avoid variety, the host must provide it in order to meet the tastes of all, and his ser- vants should be taught to pronounce properly the names f the different foreign wines, which are often so indistinct hat we are led into taking a white one when we wanted ed, or a French one when we expected Rhenish. The bacnelor has the great privilege of drinking beer at dinner if he likes it. I cannot conceive how so good and harmless an accompaniment of eating came to be excluded FISH. 851 frcm the well -served table, unless from a vulgar fimcy thai what is not expensive should not be set before a guest, however good it may be. How happy people with these notions would be in Ceylon, where Bass costs nearly a shil- iiug a glass. This reminds me of a story of some vulgar Uaatn whose name I have forgotten, and do not care to re- fliomber. His host simply enough said to his guest, " This wine cost me six shillings a bottle." " Did it ?" cried the other. •• then pass it round, and let's have another six penn'orth." The connoisseur of beer rightly judges that it is spoiled by bottling ; draught beer is also the more wholesome. A glass of old port is generally substituted for the beer with cheese, but the drink with the German student, an ardent lover of it, tells you was discovered b^ " Gabrantius Konig von Brabant Der zuerst das Bier erfand," IS its more natural accompaniment. If there were no other advantage in the Russian sys- tem, as it is called, it would be worth adopting, only be- cause it enables the dinner-giver to offer more variety, instead of forcing him to sacrifice taste to the appearance of his dishes. Tlius the turbot and the cod were once becommg standing dishes at all English dinners, and small fish were banished because they did not put in a majestic appearance. Yet there are many better fish than cod and turbot, and there are many ways of dressing feh which may not be so agreeable to the eye as to the pihite. Then, again, how exquisite is the flavor of sjmo ft-rsh- water fish and of several kinds of shell-fish, which we so seldom see at great dinners ! How much better the rariety of trout, perch in souchet^ fried gudgeons, even 358 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-I JRTIES eels, mussels, and lampreys (both of which must be radd erately indulged in, the one producing very often a rush on the ilic), which is cured bj large rjuantities of fresh luijk; and the other being notorious as a regicide, which llii'Fe who read the commonest history of England will reui.'uibcr), than that perpetual turbot. In fact, no kind of eating can be more varied than that of fish ; yet, by Sticking to antique traditions, we deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of all the wealth of sea and stream. There are scores of ways of dressing them all too, which you can learn in any good cookery-book, and almost any fish can be made not only eatable but delicious by clever cooking. But vulgarity has driven many a good but cheap eatable from the table of the rich; and the Duke of Rutland waa quite right to give Poodle Byng his coinjk. when one of these despised delicacies appeared at the Duke's table, and Poodle exclaimed, " Ah ! my old friend liaddock ! I have not seen a haddock on a gentleman's table since I was a boy." Oysters, though eaten at dinner in France are properly excluded from table in England, as being much too heating, and carp is very indigestible ; but there are the Devonshire John Dory, a far better fish than turbot, red mullets, salmon-trout, whitings, smelt, mackerel; sturgeon, the favorite of the Emperor of China, and even sprats and herrings, to form a variety besides those mentioned before. But our chief thanks to the new system are duo for itu dstracizing that unwieldy barbarism — the joint. Nothing cwii make u joint look elegant, while it hides the master oi the housC; and condemns him to tlie misery of carving. I was much amused at the observations of a writer on the subject of dinners, who objected to flowers on tho tabio, TBE CRDER OF DINNER. 859 * bt?cause we don't eat flowers, aud everjthiQj^ that is oc the table ought to be eatable.'' At this rate the cooli would have to dish up the cpergnes and candelabra. Eut the truth is, that unless our appetites are verj'' keen, the sight of much meat reeking in its gravy ig sufficient tt destroy them entirely, and a huge joint especially is cal culiled to disgust the epicure. If joints are eaten at all, thfy should be placed on the side-table, where they will be out of sight. , Vegetables should "properly be served separately on a clean plate after the roast, but when served with it, a guest should be satisfied with at most tA\o kinds at a time, nothing showing worse taste than to load your plate. Asparagus, pease, artichokes, haricots, vegetable marrows, and spinach ought, if not a component part of a made dish, to be served separately. There are many ways ol dressing potatoes and carrots, which last are a vegetable much neglected at English tables, but when quite young. and dressed with butter in the French fashion, a delicious eatable, and a preventive of jaundice, which should rec- ommend them strongly to professional diners-out. But I am not a cook, and cannot go through ever) course with you. It must sufKce to say, that the dishes should not be too many, and that good cooking and management make a better dinner than either profusion or "expenditure, or delicacies out of season. The main points are originality and rarity, and to have the best of 8Vorythi!:g, or not have it at all. Perhaps the strangest dinner I ever atn was in tete-d-trte with a bachelor oi iffiall appetite. There were but two courses To the first we stood up, opening our own oysters, and devouring tUem till we could eat no more The second courso, to 860 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES. which \ve sat down, consisted of a dozen marrow-honfS of which we ench discussed six. They were ns hot as they could he, and excellent. A variety of vegetables ccrrpleted this li<:;ht rejjast. and though I could havs dimxl more largely, I was hcund to confess that my frieriii' had given me a dinner which I should scarcely have get ebcwhere. Lest you should he tempted to offer a siuiilai repast to a large party, I must warn you that the marrow- bone is not considered a presentable dish, and that the marrow must be extracted by a special kind of spoon, of which a clean one is required for every bone. Brillat Savarin says, that the order of the solids should be from the heaviest to the lightest. This is not strictly observed either in France or England, and it may be use- ful to know what is the order generally adopted in this country. It is as follows : — 1. Soup. 2. Fish. 3. Patties (of oysters, lobsters, shrimps, or minced real ) 4. Made dishes, or entrees^ which include poultry. 5. The roast, ov pitce de resistance. 6. Vegetables. 7. The game. 8. Pastry, puddings, omelettes. 9. The ice. 10. The dessert The salad ought to have, but seldom Has a place in thii' list, namely, after the ice, and with cheese. When d ade as a mayonnaise^ that is with chicken, cold fish^ or shell- fish, it comes in as a made-dish. But a pure salad, well dressed is "a dish to set before a king," and that you SALADS 861 may be able to dress it yourself, ai.d we may finish oui / dinner with cheerfulness, I give you Sydney'' Smith's r**- 8cipt to learn by heart, — " Two large potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve, Unwonted softness to the salad give. Of mordent mustard, add a single spoon ; Distrust the condiment which bites too soon : But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault To add a double quantity of salt. Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown. And once with vinegar procured from town ; True flavor needs it, and your poet begs The pounded yellow of two well-boil'd eggs. Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl. And, scarce suspected, animate the whole ; And lastly, on the favor 'd compound toss A magic sjwonful of anchovy sauce. Then, though green turtle fail, though venisoL tough. And ham and turkey are not boil'd enough, S-?renely full, the epicure may say — Fate cannot harm me — I have dined to-day ! " Well, dinner is done, but not the diners. There re- mains on the table what is a whole dinner in Italy, and what is dinner enough for a poet — fruit and wine. Talk- ing of poets, though, reminds me that their chameleon exsistence is only a poetic license. Byron, who dined off potatoes and vinegar in public, generally rewarded him- uelf in private with an unspiritual beef-steak, and " cut from the joint ;" and the poets of " olden time." by which I mean the days of eating in Athens and Rome, wera also the paraistes of the feast, and for a stave or two, gladly accepted a steak or two, just as some later poets Lave dined with my Lord to-day, on the tacit understand- ing that they should write him a dedication to-morrow In fact, Gnib street was not inappropriately named, if 16 862 uxiSJNKRS, DINERS, AND DlNNER-PARTIEg. slang be English , and most of our own poets, — Muom and Rogers^ e. (/., — have been careful diners. But, then, the legend which made Minerva spring from the head of fupiter. has long been proved a good-natured mistaL'(^ loatined to encourage " our minion lyricists," and thert s naw no doubt that the muse of song and literature haJ as large a corporation as any other of the nme. Wh? else is the meaning of " writing for bread ?" But stop, I had nearly forgotten Grace. Well, that la nothing very extraordinary, for the thanksgiving is posi- tively the last thing thought of by the diner, and when it is remembered, it is too often reduced to a mere formality. What ridiculous mockeries are ilie long Latin graces through which we had to stand at college, and the chanted graces at public dinners ! If a man be really thankful to God for what he gives him, a few thoughts, not words, best express it ; but if words be necessary, let them be short and solemn, that each one's heart may echo thojo Dr. Johnson was well reproved in his formal reiigion, when his wife told him it was of no use to ask his Maker to make him truly thankful, when the next moment h^ would sit down and abuse every dish on the table ; au'\ what was said to Johnson may be said to many a pamper- ed diner-out, and to many a grumbling father of a family : " Better a dry morsel where love is, than a stalled ox, and"— let me adapt it to the present day — '^ ffriiml/lmg therewith." How often does a man say the words of hia grace, and soon after find fault with the dinner, ungrate- ful alike to his host and his Maker. But, as far as eti(iuette goes, there is only this to be said, — that the audible grace is spoken by the master of the feast, or if ft clergyman be present, by him. So in India, 3. Brab- DUTIES OF HOST AND GUEST. 863 min "was always invited to bless the banquet, and give it tbft sanction of bis presence. The etiquettes of dinner are not V3rj numerous. We have alrea.dj spoken in Chapter Vil. of the manners pio- pcr at the dinner ttible. We have now to consider a few duties of host and guest. Punctuality may be the soul of business, but it is also that of knife-and-fork play. Everybody must be punc- tual at the great event of the day. '' Dinner," said a French cook, " is the hope of the hungry, the occupatio«? *f the idle, the rest of the weary, and the consolation of the miserable !" Can any one be guilty of delaying such ft moment? The Romans complained that before the siin- Jial was discovered, one dined when hunger ordered, bat dfterAvards hunger had to wait for time. In our modern , fixed foi tlie then fashionable hour of five, and did noi finish till eleven. However, this was more excusable than dio case of a late nobleman, who was seen mounting his hoYSQ for 1)13 afternoon ride, jnst as his guests asseuibh^ in the drawing-room 864 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES. Next to tlie liost and hostess, tlic cook ought tc hi puixtual. But the guest's arrival is more important still • and the guest has no excuse, because from the merest . ' . *■■ Si.'lfiihness, or Avant of consideration, he may put a Avhole party to inconvenience. The invited having arrived, tha lad 7 receives them in the drawing-room, and the conver «at :ii -s necessarily more or less formal, for everybody is waiting for ihe event. At last a servant announces that dinner is ready. It is then the part of the host to pair off the guests. He himself takes down the lady of the highest rank, or the greatest stranger. Distinctions of rank are going out in ffood society, although precedence exists just as a herald's office does ; but it may generally be said that age has the real precedence, and a lady of ad- vanced years should not be put behind any one of rank ander royal blood. The most intimate with the family take the lowest, the least so, the highest place. At dinner the gentleman sits to the right of the lady, so that thw arrangment is easily made. In France there is no pro- cession of this kind, and the awkwardness of precedence is thus avoided. There, all the guests enter pell-mell, and find their names written on papers placed on their nap- kins. Besides these papers a bill of fare is placed on each plate, when the dinner is really good, and the din- aer-giver an epicure. It is the duty of the host to lead the conversation aa aiuch as possible, nnd it is still more his duty to make it general. As, however, this art is little understood by Englishmen, a man will generally have to talk more ci le&a to the lady on his left. He must take care not to neglect her fur the one on his right, however charming the PINNER ETIQUETTE. 865 latter may be. The dinner over, and the servants dis- missed, the ladies sit for a short time at dessert and then retire ; the youngest man in the room rises to open the door for them, and all the rest rise and stand by their chairs. Then comes the " drawing- round," and the con- versation grows lighter and easier. But young men and old should beware of makins; it too lisi-ht, or of running, as our barristers often do, into stories that are unfit for ladies' ears. A true gentleman will be the same in ladies' society aa he is out of it. A young man should not linger over hia wine, and he may rise and leave the dining-room before the others go. But it remains with the host to offer to "join the ladies," which he should do whenever he sees any one growing warm over his port and talking too free- ly. Coffee and tea are both served up stairs, and both should be hot. Coffee is drunk without milk, and with sugar ; tea, by those who know how to enjoy it, without either ; but they are the rarce, aves of society, men *who know what is good and enjoy it quietly. A little green tea is necessary after wine, for it awakens and excites. No man should drink enough wine to make him feel toe easy with the ladies. If he has done so without feeling its effects, he had better go home before he goes up to the drawing-room. In France the gentlemen come away with the ladies, and there is no wine-drinking. In England he custom is dwindling down to a mere form, and the shorter you remain after the departure of the ladies the better. But remember, that many meats require as much as four hours to digest, and that the best aid to digestion ua lively, easy conversation. A dinner party breaks uy 866 DINNERS, DINERS, ANi) DINN «!R-PARTIES. at about eleven. There should be o little music m ;h« evening ; but it is a great mistake to have a regular even- ing party after a dinner. At eleven you go home, and having Jiad a walk, put on your whice neck- tie for th« nexx event of the evening, which is d'«=j5Ai«Mi in the thir toonth chapter. CHAPTER XII. LADIES AT A DINNER. W* have text to consider a lady in the all-importaal character of a hostess at a dinner party. Iler first duty in this capacity is to send out her invi- tationa in due time and proper form. With regard to the time, it is necessary, during the height of the London season, to send an invitation three weeks before the din- ner party ;abut, in the quiet season of the year, or in the countrj- it is neither essential to do so, nor usual. The best plan for persons who give many dinner parties, is to have a plate with their names and invitations printed thus : — Mr. and Mrs. Request the favor of Mr. and Mrs. 's Company at dinner on the at o'clock. In writing to persons of rank far above your own, or to clergymen of high dignity, such as bishops and deanSj the word " honor" should be substituted for "favor." These invitations should properly be sent by a servant, Wid not by the post unless the distance be great. M ext comes the choice of guests, thus assembled, to si iB close contact for two hours or more. This involves many considerations. If your guests d« 368 LADIBP AT A DINNER. not assimilate, no luxury of dinners, no perfection of manners on your part, can avert a failure. Yet so little is this understood, that there are persons who collect, aa it would seem, a party so discordant as to provoke a ques- tion whether they had not shaken them all in a bag to- gether, ani turned them out loose upon each other — th« man of easy principles with the serious doctor of divinity; the man of talent with a rich and mindless merchant ; the quiet country family with the trashy London dashers, and so on; and these solecisms ui taste and discretion occur frequently. Nor ought the worldly positions of people to be the sole consideration. ISIany a nobleman will assimilate far better with the poor author than with tlie millionaire ; wealth, simply because it is wealth, gains little prestige in good circles ; there is a prejudice against the nouveau riches among the old families of England. Neither is it desirable to club all your aristocratic or fash- ionable acquaintance together ; you offend by so doing, those who are left out ; and many lose valuable friends who, however conscious they may be of an inferior posi- tion, do not like to be reminded of it. It is something, too, to avoid giving pain to the feelings of others. The general rule, however, is to invite persons of nearly the same standing in society to meet at dinner ; taking care that their general views and mode of life are not so contrasted as to be likely to clash. In the country, dif- erence of politics used to form a barrier ; Whig and Tory, even if they sat at table together, would scarcely Jrink wine with each other. But all that inconvenience to host and hostess has long since passed away, and to the facili- ties of forming a party the custom of no longer asking an^ one to tike wine has contributed. SELECTION OF GUESTS. 309 Those who wish to form agreeable dinner-parties will avoid a class : a dinner composed of officers onlj And theii wives recalls too forcibly barrack life ; ' ' talking pipe clay," as they term it, is as fatiguing as "the ship,' though not so vulgar. Wives of officers in marching regi- ments have generally travelled far, and seen notliirg' Ihey can tell you little but how bad their quarters were, and how they were hurried away from such and such a place, The gentlemen of the bar sprinkled about, make a charming spice to a dinner ; but, like all spices, one must not have too much of them : they want keeping down, otherwise you have your dining-room turned into Westminster Hall ; or you feel, if you venture to talk yourself, as if you were subjecting yourself to a cross- examination. Yet the late Lord Grenville remarked, that he was always glad to meet a lawyer at a dinner-party for he was then sure that some good topic would be started. The title of doctor is against the fascination of a physi- cian's manners ; his very attentions may seem to have an interested air, since the doctor's clients are in society. A conclave of doctors is even more formidable than one of lawyers, for the former have only to deal with the consti- lution of the state, and the latter are looking, perhaps, at your constitution, and privately condemning it. A whole party composed of clergymen is perhaps worse ; delightful as companions, valuable as friends, as many clergymen are when assembled they run naturally into topics we la not wish to have familiarized. Secular interests peep out from those we esteem sacred : the pleasures of gastrono- nj^, which are as fully appreciated by the clergy as by any otler class, seem so little to accord with the spirit« stirring eloquence we heard last Sunday, that we regret 16* 570 LADIES AT A DINNER. having met our "venerable rector" under such circuro- stances. " Perhaps," sajs Dr. Johnson, " good-breeding consi3ti in having no particular mark of any profession, but a gen eral elegance of manners." On this principle of gene ralizing should dinner-parties be formed. In high English society, to quote that accomplishes member of society, IMr. Hay ward, in his Treatise on Codes of Ma7i7iers, any calling was some few years since derogatory to the perfect character of a gentleman ; it ia now otherwise. Yet the distinction of the aristocratic professions, as opposed to other callings, is maintained, and it will perhaps continue to be so. These are the church, the bar, the higher walks of medicine, the army and navy. The different members of these professions and their wives and families are therefore fit for any society ; there is no possible objection to their mixing at a dinner- table with nobility, provided they be well-bred and agree- able. The literary man, if a gentleman by education and manners, is always an agreeable addition ; and the highest in rank have in this country set the example of inviting artists, architects, and sculptors, but not always their fam- ilies, to their tables. Great eminence in talents sets aside distinctions ; and " the first class of millionaires," Mr. Hay ward assures us, ' rise superior to rules." But it is not in good taste to follow out this last maxim, unless high personal character, the good employment of vast wealth, and a gentlemanly bearing, accompany riches. The lady, whose talk about "bigotry and virtue" was the amusement of the cluba Bome years since, had no right, in regard to her husband' g position and character, to be associated, as she was, with PRECEDENCE. 871 ■i».imt*ti of high rank or of old patrician families; the var- nish hais since been taken off the picture, and It has sunk down to its original value, after having been at a fibuloufl estimation in the social mart The next points refer to the duties of a lady on the arrival of the guests at the house. She remains in some convenient part of her drawing-room, and too much can- not be said of the importance of her being dressed some time before the party arrives. Want of attention in thia respect, though very much less thought of now than for- merly, is a real breach of good manners. Neither should her daughters, should she have any, come dropping in one by one, but should be seated, ready to receive the visitors. Previously, however, to her going up to dress, the lady of the house should have arranged, with some considera- tion, who is to take precedence. 1. With respect to persons of title. These take pre- cedence according to their titles ; but. should there be diplomatic foreigners of the first class, they go out first ; or, should there be a bishop and his wife, precedence ia usually given to them by courtesy, even over dukes and marquises ; bishops ranking with earls.* The same cour- tesy is extended to all the dignified clergy ; whilst the wives of all the clergy take precedence of the wives of barristers ; and the wives of the esquires, without profes- sions or trade, take precedence of both clergymen's and barristers' wives. These distinctions are seldom, it is true, ligorously to be pursued, but it is convenient to kucvf Uiem ; it is as well, also^ especially to remember that the • See Lodge's Orders for Precedency. An archbisliop ranks »UI t obake. 872 LADIES Al A DINNER. wives of clergymen and of barristers, by rig'at, take pre- cedence of the untitled wives of military and naval men There is no place specified for physicans, who, however, are ranked in the households of the royal family next to the knights, and whose wives, therefore, go out after those of the barristers. These seem to be worldly and unimportant rules ; but whatever prevents mistakes, ill-will, and the possibility ol doing a rude action without intention, comes under the comprehensive head — " How to be civil with ease." Be- sides, although in friendly society, as it is called, a breach of etiquette might not signify, there is so much that is unfriendly, so much in which criticism stalks among the company seeking whose conduct he may challenge, that a hostess should be perfectly armed with every defence against comment. As her guests enter she should advance half-way to meet them. This is a point of politeness ; and a lady in a county near London gave great offence once at her first dinner, by standing with one arm on her mantle-piece, waiting till her company came up to her. All the chairs should be ready, so that there should be no placing or needless confusion ; but, should any change in the arrange- ments of the rooms be requisite, it should be made by the butler or by the gentleman of the house. The lady of the house should do nothing but receive, converse, and look as well as she can. To this end her room and all the minutiae should be tastefully arranged. A distribu- tion of natural flowers adds greatly to the gaiety of a drawing-room, how richly or poorly soever it may be fur- nished : people are apt to forget in England, what is nevei forgotten in Fran:e, how greatly the style and arrange* RECEPTION OF GUESTS. 87S ment of furniture contribute to make a partj? gj off well, and those engaged in it look well, of which pleasing fact people often have a sort of intuitive conviction, even with- out the aid vf the looking-glass. And now the test of good-breeding in a hostess is to hi detected ; it is often a severe one. Her guests maj arrive all at once, she must not be hurried, jet each and all mtisl feel that they have her individual attention. She must have something pleasing and cheerful to say to every one, but she must not say or do too much. Perhaps her guesta are late, or perhaps, worst martyrdom of all, her servants are late in announcing dinner. She chafes inwardly ; but stilly feeling as if on a stage, with an army of observation around her, she bears up ; strikes out new subjects ; ap- pears as if still expecting some one ; no, nothing is to go wrong with her ; be it ever really so wrong that day, she must not seem to notice it. It may be argued that this implies a degree of self- restraint akin to dissimulation ; but that is an error ; self- restraint does not imply dissimulation. At length dinner is announced ; perhaps a few minutes previously some reckless youth, or sexagenarian, but probably the former, since the being too late for dinner is not commonly the fault of age, comes breathlessly in. I am shocked to say I have seen married ladies look very much out of temper at the delinq[uent on such occasions, especially if he hap- pened to be *' some one we must ask" — a youth from col- lege, or a country cousin — and I have heard the gentleman call out " dinner" to the servant before the door waa closed. The French host and hostess would die rather 111 a well-arranged party the butler should have a list ol 374 LADIES AT A DINNER. the guests, so that he may know, as one after anothei comes in, tLat he may be placing the silver dishes with hot water in them on the table, arranging the lights, and doing many little things that require time, and, if omitted^ cause delay. The party being assembled, and dinner announced, the gentleman of the house offers the lady of the highest rank his arm, and, having previously arranged with the other gentlemen which ladies they are to conduct, moves oflF with the one he has chosen to the dinner-table, and places her on his right hand, next to himself The gentleman appointed to conduct the lady of the house almost simultaneously offers her his arm ; they fol- low, and are followed in their turn by the whole of the company, linked by previous arrangement. As these va- rious couples enter, the master of the house, already in the dining-room, arranges where they are to sit. Some- times, however, and in certain houses, this is not done, but, more gracefully I think, the party seat themselves aa they enter ; a due sacrifice to the rules of etiquette having been made by the master and mistress of the house in their own persons. It is still customary, but not invariably so, as formerly for a lady to sit at the head of her own table. Let us. however, suppose her there, as being the most frequent arrangement. Henceforth she has nothing to do with the dinner, except to partake of it. In eld times, the lady presiding waa expecte-i to carve every lish before her, and to be perfect in the art of carving. Lady Mary Montague, presiding »t her father s table, was condemned, at fifteen, to perforin CONVERSATION AT DINNER. 376 tnis feat whenever her father had a party. Had she lived now she need never have touched a spoon, fork, or knife, except those on her own plate ; her lovely face might have beamed serenely on those around her ; and her dawn- ing pr>wcr3 of mind have been enhanced by conversation, wh.ch was in those days impossible. In the present era whilst the hostess should, as it were, see everything tha goes on, or does not go on, she should look at nothing, Bay nothing, and reserve all stricutres on failure and re- proof, if needful, not until the time when guests shall have departed, but until the next day, when her servants, hav- ing recovered the fatigue of unusual exertion, will be more willing to listen without irritation and to good effect than on the previous evening. Drinking much wine is vulgar, whether the sin be per- petrated by a duchess or a farmer's wife : all manifest self-indulgence tends to vulgarity. A lady, also, should QOt be ravenous at table ; neither should she talk of eating or of the dishes. Whatever conversation takea place should be easy ; if possible sensible, even intellec- tual, without pedantry. It may be personal, if with pru- dence ; for nothing is so agreeable, for instance, as to hear public characters discussed at table ; and there is a nat- ural love of biography in the human mind that renders anecdote, without scandal, always agreeable. The conver- sation at dinner tables is usually carried on in an under tone, and addressed first to one neighboring gentleman, ttien to another. In large dinner-parties general conver- sation is impossible. It is only at that delightful form of social intercourse, a small party, that one may enjo^ the luxury of an animated and general conversation. 876 LADIES /-^ A DTNEER. It is now the custom for ladies to retire after the 104 and dessert have gone round. They then retire, almost in the same order as they came, to the drawing-room Here the province of the lady of the house is to maintain easy and cheerful conversation, and to make it, if possible, /eneral. Her labors are often not well repaid, but, in modern times, are not of long duration. One is tempted, however, sometimes to envy the French customs. At a Parisian dinner-party, each gentleman rises with his appointed lady neighbor, gives her his arm, and leads her into the drawing-room, where coffee comea in directly. Thus the evening begins. In some instances the gentlemen, and ladies also, soon take their leave ; in others, remain till ten or eleven o'clock. But the dreary interregnum which still occurs in this country whilst mine host is circulating the bottle below — and ladies are discussing their servants, the last tooth their baby cut, or the raging epidemic, in the drawing-room above — is unknown in the salons of Paris. It must not be forgotten that all the comfort and part of the success of a dinner-party must depend on the pre- vious arrangements ; but the qualities which regulate a house, and the experience which is brought to bear upon the importanrt knowledge of how to give a dinner-party, as far as the material part is concerned, is not in my |itrovince. What Lord Chesterfield says is here to the purpose: •'The nature of things," he remarks, "is always and ererywhere the same, but the modes of them vary more er less in every country ;" but good-breeding, he adds, con- lists in an easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather AFTER DINNER. 3'^'' * the assuming of them at proper times and in propei places." In conclusion, let us recal the advice of Napoleon the First, who dulj respected the importance of dinnerparties %B ft social institution : *' Tfus bonru table, el toignez te$ ftmmtk CHAPTER XllL BALLS. BalI:), an amiable girl will do her best tc find partners for hsT Avr.ll-flower friends, even at the risk of sitting out herself. 'J'he formal bow at the end of a quadrille has gradu- ally dwindled away. At the end of every dance you jftei you right arm to your partner (if by mistake you oHei the left, you may turn the blunder into a pretty compli- BALL-ROOM MANNERS. 893 merit, by reminding her that it is le bras dii cmur^ near- est the hoart, which if not anatomically true, is at leasl no worse than talking; of a sunset and sunrise"), ami walk half round the room Avith her. You then ask her if she will take any refreshment, and, if she accepts, yoii gonvey your precious allotment of tarlatane to the re« freEjhment-room to be invigorated by an ice or nogug^ or what you will. It is judicious not to linger too long in this room, if you arc engaged io some one elso for the next dance. You will have the pleasure of hear- ing the music begin in the distant ball-room, and of re- flecting that an expectant fair is sighing for you like Mariana — " He comctli not," sbe saiil. She saiil, " I am a-we;i.rv a-wcary, I woukl I were in bee' ;' ' which is not an unfrequent wish in some ball-rooms. A well-bred girl, too, will remember this, and always offei to return to the ball-room, however inttrestino; rhe con- Versation. If you are prudent you will not dance every dance nor, in fact, much more than half the number on the list, you will then escape that hateful redness of face at the time, and that wearing fatigue the next day wliich are among the Avorst features of a ball. Again, a gentlemar? must remember that a ball is essentially a lady's parly ,Mid in their presence he should be gentle and delicate al- most to a fault, never pushing his way apologizing if he tread on a dress, still more so if he tears it, begging par don for any accidental annoyance he may occasion, and addressing everj oody with a smile. But quite unpardon- able are those men whom one sometimes meets, who, 17* 304 BALLS. Btandiiig in a door-'way, talk and laugli as tliej would in a barrack or college-rooms, always coarsely, often indeli- cately. AVliat must the state of their minds be if th« sight of beauty, modesty, and virtue does not awe them into silence. A man, too, who strolls down the roora with his head in the air, looking as if there were not a ereature there worth dancing with, is an ill-bred man, so is he who locks bored ; and worse than all is he who takes tco much xJiauipagne. If you ire dancing witli a young lady when the sup- per-room .s opened, you must ask her if she would like to go to f; upper, and if she says "yes," which, in 990 cases cr.^ of 1000, she certainlj' will do, you must take her t]j:tber. If you arc not dancing the lady of the houso will probably recruit you to take in some chaperon, IIow- evei little you may relish this, you must not show your •iis^^ust. In fact, no man ought to be disgusted at being able to do anything for a lady ; it should be his highest privilege, but it is not — in these modern unchivalroua days — perhaps never was so. Having placed your part- ner then at the supper-table, if there is roora there, but if not at a side-table, or even at none, you must be as ac- tive as Puck in attending to her wants, and as women take as long to settle their fancies in edibles as in love- matters, you had better at once get her something sub- stantial, chicken, j^atk de foie gras^ mnyonuaise. or wiiat you will. Afterwards come jelly and trifle in due coujse. A young lady often goes down half-a-dozen times :o iLc supper-room — it is tc be hoped not for tlie purpose of eating — but she should not do so with the same part- ner more than once. "While the lady is supping you must stand by and talk to her, attending to every wan^ PUBLIC BALLS. Z9^ unci the most you may tal:e yonrsclr" is a glass oi cham- pagne when you help her. You then lead her up stairs again, and if you arc not wanted there any more. yiMi may steal down and do a little quiet refreshment on joui own account. As long, however, as there are many 1> lies still at the table, you have no right to begin. Noth" ing marks a man here so much as gorging at supper. Balls are meant for dancing, not eating, and unfortunately too many young men forget this in the present day. Lastly, be careful what you say and hoAv you dance after supper, even more so than before it, for if you in the slightest way displease a young lady, she may fancy that you have been too partial to strong fluids, and ladiea never forgive that. It would be hard on the lady of the house if everybody leaving a large ball thought it neces- sary to wish her good-night. In quitting a small dance, however, a parting bow is expected. It is then that the pretty daughter of the house gives you that sweet smile of which you dream afterwards in a gooseberry nightmare of " tura-tum-tiddy-tum," and waltzes h deux temps, and masses of tarlatane and bright eyes, flushed cheeks and dewy glances. Sec them to-morrow, my dear fellow it will cure you. I think flirtation comes under the head of morals more than of manners ; still I may be allowed to say tliat ball- room flirtation being more open is less dangerous than any c'.hcr But a young lady of taste will be careful not to flannt and publish her flirtation, as if to say, " Sec, I have an admirer !'' In the same way a prudent man wil never presume on a girl's liveliness or banter No man of taste ever made an ofier aftei- supper, and certainlj 396 BALLS. nine-tenths of those Avho have done so have regrtttcvl i at hrcakfust the next morning. Public halls arc not much fret|ucntc(l by people of ^vXhJ society, except in watering-places and country fv^ti;? Even there a young lady should not be seen at more lliaij two or three in the year. County-balls, race-balls, anJ hunt-b.ills, are generally better than common subscrip- tion-balls. Charity-balls are an abominable anomaly. At public balls there are generally either three or foui stewards on duty, or a professional master of ceremonies. These gentlemen having made all the arrangements, order the dances, and have power to change them if desirable. They also undertake to present young men to ladies, but it must be understood that such an introduction is only available for one dance. It is better taste to ask the steward to introduce you simply to a partner, than to point out any lady in particular. He will probably then ask you if you have a choice, and if not, you may be cer- tain he will take you to an established Avall-flower. Pub- lic balls are scarcely enjoyable unless you have your own party. As the great charm of a ball is its perfect accord and harmony, all altercations, loud talking, &c., are doubly ill-mannered in a ball-room. Very little suffices to dif- turb the peace of the whole company. CHAPTER XIV. MORNING AND EVE:aXfl /'AKTIES. WuEN all the flower of Greece turned out at th 3 or? of tlie Argive King, manned their heavy triremes and fsailed away to Tenedos. do you imagine tliat one-fiftieth pai i of their number cared as much as a shield-strap for that lady of the white arms but black reputation, whom tlie handsomest man of his day had persuaded to " i!y beyond her fate's control ;" do you believe it was for fair false- Helen that they resolved to sack Troy ? Not a bit of it, it Avas only an excuse for '' making a party." So. too it was only for the party and the fun that all those liel- meted, scarved, iron-cased knights, most preiix and gal- lant, quitted the bowers of their lady-loves (which, tc say truth, must have been rather dull in days when there were no cheap novels, no pianos, no crochet, no chess, no backgammon, and no newspapers to talk about) and trotted off to Palestine, determined to return with the Bcalp of a Saladin. Whj'-, if you were to examine the con- sciences of nine-tenths of those same chivalrous gentlemen you would find the motive probably made up of the fcV Icwing ingredients in the following proportions : — Religion, - - - : Ratieil of Turks, 2 The wish of my lady-love, - 8 Because it's the fashion, - 4 Love of bloo;lshcil, - - 6 For the sfike of the p«4rty, - 16 (397) MORNxNG AND EVENING PARTIES. In Other words, all the other motives together \vjuU ii'jt outbalance that prime considcriition. People Avill make a party for anything. " Make a party to see the sun set;" "make a party to take u ?i?alk ; " make a party to hear the niglitingak ;" " innkc a party to go to church ;" " make a party to go now hero near church, but to Hampstead Heath instead ;" "make a party to ride a donkey ;" " make a party to play at a new game ;" " make a party to do nothing at all."' There are people — very good people they think themselves too — who cannot even read their bibles without a party, and the very people who rail at balls and parties, and amuse- ment of any kind, will most //^ostentatiously make a party to see them give away a hundred cups of tea or fifly pinafores, which act then goes in the world by the name of "charity." I don't think the Pharisees Avero •juite so bad as this, because if they did do their good deeds in public, they did not make a party to come and see them, unless indeed the sounding of a trumpet waa the Hebrew way of sending out invitations. However, this is not my present business. The system of gathering a little assembly to join in every pleasure, as long as it is free from ostentation and cant, only showa what sociable and sympathetic beings we are. For the real objects of these parties are not, believe me, the sun- it-t, the walk, the nightingale's service, the donkey, tL-e sew game, and the dispensing of pinafores. l"ut the ?nter- tainment of one another's society, so that all parties having Ihe same ultimate aim may be governed by the same laws I. have made an exception for dinner and dances, because 7y'ith many people the food and the waltz ai^e the sole ob- ject. But in most other cases the excuse given for the MAKING A rARTT. 899 gathering is precisely the kind of thing which ccuJd be enjo^'^ed much raDre in solitude, or, at most, with on© sympathetic conipanion. Take ;i pic-nic as an instance We go miles, at a considerable outlay may be, :nly to en- joy some beautiful view, or to wander in some ancient ruin. Docs the small gossip of the pic-nic aid us in th(^ enjoyment of the former, or its noisy prattle hallow raiii- er than disturb the memories of the past that haunt the latter ? So then the main difference in all kinds of parties Ilea in the selection of the guests, the dress they wear, and the peculiar tone of the conversation. Another great distinction lies, too, between town and country parties. Let us then divide parties under these two general heads. Town-parties consist in conversaziones, private concerts, private theatricals, tea-parties, and matinees. The first, which also go by the names of Receptions and " At Homes," have for principal object conversation *)nly, so that in the selection of guests youth and beauty «.re less considered than talent, distinction, and fashion. An Indian prince, a great nobleman^ a distinguished foreigner, or a celebrated statesman, are considered valua- ble attractions, but it must be a consolation to the lion- hilntress to feel that if the presence of these curiositif.a increases the reputation of her assemblies, they do by no means add to. but rather diminish the general ease of the conversation. On the other hand, to assemble as manj persons distinguished for talents or achievements as possi- ble, must necessarily give them brilliance ; and, as I have Baid, the great behave better in the presence of rivals and compeers thin vdiere they are chief planets. The invi- tations should be sent out from a week to a fortni;z;hJ 100 MOllNTNG AND EVENING PARTIES. befoi chand. Tea must be served in a separate rooE , t« which the guests are first conducted, and ices lianded at shcrt intervals throughout the evening. Sometimes in smaller receptions a supper is served, but this is by lie means common, as from these meetings the ladies goneraily repair to a ball. The hour for meeting is be tween nine and ten, and the party breaks up before one in the morning. The ladj and gentleman of the Jiouso both receive the guests, somewhere near the door of the orincipal room ; or if the reception is a small one, the ja'ly joins in the conversation, and comes forward when a guest is announced. Two or three rooms must bo thrown «)pen, curiosities, good engravings, handsome books, rare /niniatures, old china, photographs, stereoscopes, and sg forth, laid out gracefully on the tables, and a liberal sup- ply of ottomans, dos d dos, and sof is placed about in con- venient positions, not, however, so as to impede a genera] movement about the rooms. In the larger receptions gentlemen should not sit down, and. above nil, not linger <;lo3e to the door, but come forward aiul talk sense — not ball-room chit-chat — to such people as they happen to know. Introductions are not here the order of the day, as they must be in balls, but the lady of the house will take care to introduce gentlemen to such ladies as seem to have none to talk to. On the other hand, strangers fflio enter your set for the first time must receive the greatest attention — tlie greater the stranger the gicatci the guest — and must be introduced to the principal pc-> pie. The lady must take care to cieate circulation, aiid the guests themselves should not be pinioned to one spot or one chair. The place occupied by music in these parties is a yer) MUSIC. 401 ridiculous one, because it is got up snlj to make a noise and prevent people being frightened, like Robinson Crusoe^ at the sound of their o^vn voices. Sometimes a prcfes- eional musician or two is introduced ; sometimes young hviies are called upon to murder Italian or mouih cut Cerman; sometimes — not very often — there is some charming amateur singing, but unless the professionala are very great favorites, or the young ladies have very fine voices, or the guests — rarer still — can appreciate good melodious speaking music, the touch of the first notes is the signal for every one to find their ideas and their tongues. So far it must be confessed that the mu- sic inspires them, and the people Avho "were stupidest be- fore, suddenly shine out quite brilliantly; but it is cu- rious that while the first tw^o chords can effect this, the remainder, good or bad, is droAvned and talked down in the most uniirateful manner. Nothins; can be worse bred than this ; and, therefore, in really good society, you will find that people know when to use their tongues and when their ears. As to the etiquette of music, it is the sole privilege of the lady of the house to ask a guest to sing or play ; and when he or she can do so they will, if well bred^ at once consent, without any palaver. A young lady must be led — poor victim — to the piano by some gentleman near at hand, who then oifcrs to fetch her mu- eic for her ; and tlicrc is one hint which I will venture to jive to young ladies when they have get tiicir nmsic, and hi\'e f/uick/t/ chosen their song or piece • never wait till the company is silent, do not go on playing introducljvj bars, and looking round as if you expec;ed them to stof talking for on the one hand, you will seldom succeed in making them dc so ; on the other, those who notice you l02 MORNING AXD EVENINi PARTIES. will think you are vain of your talents. Mme u|i yrai tLiiul that you arc to sing only for the sake of the coa versa tion, and be consoled that those who can appreciate vour singin"; will draw near and listen. The ffentlcman who has conducted j'ou to the piano now stays to turn ever your pages for you ; take care that he is able tw for the most part, you may be more familiar in jo\i c generaJ manners, and to be agreeable, you are expected tc be merry, humorous, and ready for anything that may be proposed. On the other hand, as prejudices are always greater ip proportion to the narrowness of the mind, and are some- times especially deep-rooted in the squires and clergymen wliora you meet in these gatherings, you must be very careful how you approach the topics which most interest them. I liave known a whole party, at one moment full ^f rarrriment and laughter, suddenly cast into the deepest gloom of hcrro)' and dismay, by the innocent allusion of a stranger to '' AT. B." waistcoats, the rector who was prcsGnt being high-clmrcii. On the same princi^lft it ia wise to avoid speaking nuu'li of the shurth itself, the Bchoola, the dispensary, the preserves, the poor, and so 408 MORNING AND EVENINQ PARTIES. fortL of the village, as country people arc soniewliai iriven to making tliosc su'ojects matters for serious tlifibr tuce. ami it is a I'are case for tlie squire and the clergy WVAV. to be perfectly agreed on all [lOints Avliere tlioii' suji I'm-d ligiits can possibly clash. ► I have known a vill.ii.';; ilivid(>d into a deadly feud for ten years 1)y nothing buj tV.? jiews in the church — one party Avjsliing to keep them, and another to pull them down ; and, though these re- ligious-minded people met perhaps once a month at vari- ous tea-parties and dinners, the church was never sjiokcn of, and a stranger ^Yho might have unconsciously mention- ed the pews therein, Avould have thrown in a firebrand ndiicli would have lit up the whole parish. On entering a country party, you at once seek out the lady of the house, and shake hands with her. The same process is then performed with those members of the family whom you know, and an}^ other of your ac(juain- tance present. In taking leave the same process is repeat- ed, and a simple bow would generally be considei'ed as an impoliteness. ^.Fhe invitations to these parties partake of the same sociable character, and are made by friendly notes sent a few days befoi-ehand. or even on the very day itself. You have not the same liberty of declining them as in town, nor can you have recourse to the polite forum la of a " previous engagement, since evervbody knows what is going on in the neighborhood, and who is to ^>l: at any party. You m.ust tlieref)re fnid a good excuse iv ^0. For my part. I think Ave should be better Cl;ii.g lian!"! and just as friendly, if we stated our real rca.-i;ns ' I regret that I have not the time to spare," " I dc not feel inclined for society,' ' or, " I have no dress foi tUfl occasion." Such replies might create a little 8ur;:ris8 IN THE COUlSTPvT. 40& hut people must admire their candor, and cvcryliody could sjuipatliize with the writer's feelings. At any rate, ycv »uu.«t avoid a sneer such as that given by a toe candid ia dy to a clergyman's wife who luid invited her to a quic'. little discussion of muffins on Shrove Tuesday. " I re* Xrot,'" shp wrote " that I shall be unable to accept jour Uivitation, as the near approach of Lent would preclude my joining in any festivities." Country hours, again, are much earlier than those in town. E.xce})t at great liouses, where the dinner hour is tjeven, eight o'clock is the usual time for a tea-party to begin, and before twelve tlie last guest departs. It is ne cessary to be punctual in the country, Avhatever you may be in town ; and it would bo considered as an unwarrant- able assumption of fashion to arrive a-n hour after the time stated in the invitation. Tea is handed in the drawing-room, or, if the party be a small one, so arranged that all may sit round. In the latter case the tea-table must be plcnteously spread with cakes, fruit, &c. Ac. Appetites flourish in the free air of hills and meadows, and as a rule, country parties have more of the feeding system about them than those of town. Thus, unless dinner has been at a late hour, it is usual to have a supper laid .out, or at least sandwiches, jellies, and Lrifle at a side-table. This, I must say io a more agreea- ble feature of country entertainments than that of round gfvmes. At these, however, you must not look bored : you must really for the time believe yourself a idiild again, allow yourself to bo amused, and enter heart and aoul into it. Endeavor by every means in your powei to add to ilie general hiliu-ity ; talk witiiout restraint, en- ter into innocent rivalry with the young ladies ; or, if 18 tlO MORNINQ AND EVENING PARTIES. one of them yourself, challenge the most youth ful^ es}?^- cially the shy. of the other sex. You must find some- thing to laugh at in the merest trifle, but never roar oi shriek. Never claim your winnings, but if they ai« cffere'l you must take them, except from a young lady Kid from her on no consideration. AVhilc we are melting here under the dog-star, and crushing up crowded staircases, and into ovens of rooms in the tightest dress that is worn, our country cousins are really enjoyiug tliemselves. They are now having tea out on the lawn, with bo}ia fide cream to it too, none of our miserable delusions of calves' brains (beautiful satire on those who credulously swallow them) or chalk and water. Then when tea is done, they are positively going to dance here on the lawn, or there in that large empty out-house, resolved that nothing shall induce them to go into that house again till night ; and if they do not 'I'liCe, they bring out every chair that is in it, and sitting round, play at hunt-the-ring, post, turning the trencher, or Blind Man's Buff. What dear children they are ! how pleasant to see the old gentlemen dragged in by the young girls, and made to play iiolejilcs volcntes ! how charming the laughter of these merry maidens, and the playful flirta- tion of the sturdy youths, who all day long have been earrjing a gun or breaking a new horse in ! Well, well, if there is beauty enough to make us bless the excitement *hicli brings the color to some lovely cheek.— if the FCun^T men 3an really help looking bored, and the old ^r\f-a sham delight (as we old ones can, let me teii you, air)^ why, then, these out-door gaieties may be fresh and reviving and cheering to us dusty, withered, smoke-dried to^msmen. But then where is conversation ? Swamped FfC-NlCS. 411 in badinage which, if I am not a young lover, I cannot possibly pump up. And Avheic is that flow of thought and diversity of i^nagiuation which makes one hour with a lilever man or iife'/nins d' esprit worth twenty- four ih the presence of a mere beauty and animal spirits; 15 ol hore. So, then, they are matters of taste, these little parties, but not so the etiquette they rcfjuire. You must be gay, you must laugh ami chuckle and all that, but you must not overdo it ; you nmst not let your merriment carry you away. In out-door games especially, you must be careful not to romp, not to rush and tear about, nor be boister- ously merry. It may be difficult to steer between the Scylla of dullness and the Charybdis of rompijig, but you must always remember what dear fragile things the ladies are, and treat them tenderly. These games are, in fact, a severe test of politeness, grace, and delicacy, and if I wanted to discover your title to the name of gentleman or lady, I should set you to play at post or hunt-the-ring or what not of child's sport. Lastly, as to pic-nics, they are no longer the cheery gatherings of other days, when each person brought hia quantum, and when on opening the baskets there were found to be three pigeon-pies but no bread, four contribn- tions of mustard but no salt, dozens of wine but no beer, and so on. The only thing you are asked to bring in the present day is your very best S])ir»ts ; and evei'ybody it expected to contribute these, for you cannot have tofe DUfh of them. A castle, a church, or something to see about which tc create an interest, is necessary to a .=:uc- cessful pic-nic. much more so than champagne, which i{ IB perhaps safer not to have, th )ugh it is always expected 412 M0R2TINQ AND EVENINJ PARTIES. Servants ourc^it, if possible, to be dispensed with, and » free flow of t'le easiest merriment, not free in itself, it Kill be understood, should be allo'wed and encouraged. Tlie collation, cold of course, is generally the first ol)- joct after arriving at the rendezvous. It is of neconsit), »3mewbi,t rough, for these same pic-nics are the ha|,'i)y i^casions when people Inj to forget that thej are highly C'vilizod, btit are scarcely ever allowed to do so. How- c^'or, nothing is more justly ridiculous than that people who come out to play the rustic should be accompanied by a bevy of Mercuries, and that while we attempt to imitate the simplicity of rural dryad life, spreading our viandd beneath the shady trees, we should have some half-dozen Bt1 rolls away for a couple of hours with a young maa it'iong the ruins or in the wood, should scarcely bo asked k' jcin a second pic-nic. Then, too. free as tliey are, gay Itiiighirig. and careless, they should not descend to noisy loniping There ought to be a fair sprinkling of chnpo rmsand elderly people, lot to damp the gaiety but tc pic-Nics. 413 restrain the carelessness of the younger ones. After all; let jouth be jouth, and let it have its fling. If it ba really innocent and well brought up. Miss Etiquette, luim old maid, will have nothing to say; if otherwise, then she may preach in vain at a carnival. If our spirits arc good (and I feel quite young again in talking Df theso things) let us enjoy them to the fullest, and be as silly rnd as wild as the youngest. Never shoot a skylark while soaring ; never curb young mirth in its proper esi- \ojmBM. CHAPTER XV. MARRIAGE. At ft dn;e when our feelings are or ought to be most BUft* ceptil le, when the happiness or misery of a condition in wliich there is no raeclium begins, we are surrounded with forms and etiquettes which rise before the unwary like spectres, and which even the most rigid ceremoniahsta regard with a sort of dread. Were it not, however, for these forms, and for thia necessity ot being en rrjlc^ there might, on the solemni- zation of marriage, be confusion, forgetfulness, and even — speak it not aloud — irritation among the parties most in- timately concerned. Excitement might ruin all. With- out a definite programme, the old maids of the familj •ftculd be thrusting in advice. The aged chronicler of past events, or grandmother by the fireside, would have it all her way ; the venerable bachelor in tights, with hia blue coat and metal buttons, might throw everything into confusion by his suggestions. It is well that we ni^ in- dependent of all these interfering advisers ; that there is tio necessity to appeal to them. Precedent has arranged •it all ; we have only to put in or understand what that etern authority has laid down; iiow it has been varied Ij mcdern changes; and we must just shnpe our cours«\ f/olJly. " Boldly ?" But there is much to be done b&* fore we ccme to that. First, there is the offer to b< (414^ PRELIMINARIES. 415 ma 3e. Well mtiy a man who contemplates sucli a step aay to Limself. with Dryden, " These ate the realms of everlasting fate ;" for, in truth, on marriage one's wellbeing not only her but even hereafter mainly depends. But it is not on th:i bearing of the subject that we wish to enter, contenting ourselves with a quotation from the Spectator : "■ It requires more virtues to make a good husband or wife, th in what go to the finishing any the most shining character whatsoever." England is distinguished from most of the continental countries by the system of forming engagements, and the mode in which they are carried on until terminated by marriage. In France, an engagement is an affair of negotiation and business ; and the system in this respect greatly re- sembles the practice in England, on similar occasions, a hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, or even la- ter. France is the most unchanging country in the world in her habits and domestic institutions, and foremost among these is her " Marria(je de co)iveiiance,''^ oi " Marriage de raison." It is thus brought about. So soon as a young girl quits the school or convent where she has been educated, her frienda cast about for a suitable parti. Most jiarcits in France take care, so soon as a daughter is born tc put aside a sum of money for her " dot^''' as they v. ill know that whatever may be her uttractions. tliat is indis- pcnsaljle in order to be married. They are ever on tiic lookout for a youth with at least an equal fortune, or more ; or, if they are rich, for title, which is deemed 416 MARRIAGE. tantamount to fortune ; even the poAver of writing those two little letfcrs De before your name has some value in the marriage contract. Having satisfied themselves they thus address the young lady: — " It is now time ftr yott to be married ; I know of an eligible match ; you can see (hi) gentleman, either at such a ball or (if he is serious) at church. I do not ask you to take him if his appear^ aiice is positively disagreeable to you; if so. we will look 3ut for some one else." A 1 a matter of custom, the young lady answers that the Will of her parents is hers ; she consents to take a survey ■)f him to whom her destiny is to be entrusted ; and let us presume that he is accepted, though it does not follow, and sometimes it takes sevei'al months to ' ;k out, as it does for other matters, a house, or a place, or a pair of horses. However, she consents ; a formal introduction takes place ; the jjromis calls in full dress to see his fu- ture wife ; they are only just to speak to each other, and those few unmeaning words are spoken in the presence of the bride-elect's mother; for the French thin'k it most indiscreet to allow the affections of a girl to be interested before marriage, lest during the arrangements for the contract all should be broken off. If she has no dislike, it in enough ; never for an instant are the engaged couple left alone, and in very few cases do they go up to the altar with more than a few weeks' acquaintance, and usuallv firith less. The whole matter is then arrange! by m ta ien, A^ho squabble over the marriage-contract, and get ai lliey can for their clients. The contract is usually signed in France on the day before the marriage, ivhen all is considered safe ; the reli- gious portion of their bond takes place in the church, and THE PROPOSAL. 411 then the tivo young creatures are left together to yiuu'r- stand eacli other if they can, and to love eacii oJi^^r ii Ihey will ; if not they must content tlicmselves with what ii: teimed, un mciuiye do Paris. Ir. England formerly much the same system prevailed A boy of fourteen, before going on his travels, was con- tracted to a girl of eleven, selected as his future wife by J)arent3 or guardians ; he came back after the (jrawle tour to fulfd the engagement. But by law it was imper- ative that forty days should at least pass between the contract and the marriage ; during which dreary interval the couple, leashed together like two young greyhounds would have time to think of the future. In France, the perilous period of reflection is not allowed. " I really am BO glad we are to take a journey," said a young French lady to her friends ; " I shall thus get to know something about my husband: he is quite a stranger to me." Some striking instances of the Marriage de conveiiance being infringed on, have lately occurred in France. The late Mon.sieur de Tocqueville maricd for love, after a five years' engagement. Guizot, probably influenced by hii acquaintance with England, gave his daughtci's liberty tc choose for themselves, and tiiey married for love* — '• a very indelicate proceeding," remarked a French com- tesse of the old rdyime^ when speaking of this arrange- ment. Nothing can be more opposed to all this than our En^ \h\\ system. We are so tenacious of the freedom of 3l.oicc. Uiat even persuasion is thought criminal. In France negotiations are often commenced o?i the la • Two brothers, nniued De WitU. 18* 418 MARRIAGE. dj's sids ; in England, never. Even too encoiraging i manner, even the ordinary attentions of civilitv, are owa- eionallj a matter of reproach. We English are jcaloufi of the delicacy of that sacred bond, which we presume t<# tope is to spring out of mutual affection. It is not lune our province to inquire what are the causes that have so Bullied the marriage tie in England ; what ire the rcascna that it seldom holds out all that it promises ; we have only to treat of the rules and eti(iuettes which preface the union. A gentleman who, from whatever motives, has made up his mind to marry, may set about it in two ways. He may propose by letter or in words. The customs of English society imply the necessity of a sufTicient know- ledge of the lady to be addressed. This, even in thia country, is a difficult point to be attained : and, after all, cannot be calculated by time, since, in large cities, you may know people a j'ear, and yet be comparative stran- gers ; and, meeting them in the country, may become in« timate in a week. Having made up his mind, the gentleman offers — wisely if he can in speech. Letters are seldom expressive of what really passes in the mind of man ; or, if expressive, Beem foolish, since deep feelings are liable to exaggeration. Every written word may be the theme of cavil. Study, care, which avail in every other species of composition are death to the lover's effusion. A few sentences, spoken in earnest, and broken by emotion, are more eloquent than pages of sentiment, both to parent and daughter. Let him. however, speak and be accepted. He is in that case instantly taken into the intimacy of his adopted relatives. Such is the notion of English honor, that the engaged eouple are henceforth allowed to be frequently alone to THE ENGAGEyENT. 119 gcthor, in walking and at homo If there be no known Dbsitaclci to the engageuicat, the gentlemen nnd lady uxt Dintually jntroduced to tlie respective relatives of each It Is for the gentleman's family to call first ; for him t(, ai.tko the fii'st present ; and this should be done as soon a& jiOs^.iMe after the ofter has been accepted. It is a sort of goal put upon the affair. The absence of presents is thought to ini])ly want of earnestness in the matter. Tliis present generally consists of some personal ornament, say, a rin2, and should be handsome, but not so handsome aa that made for the wedding-day. During the period that elapses before the marriage, the betrothed man should conduct himself with peculiar deference to the lady's famjly and friends, even if beneath his own station. It is often said : "I marry such a lady, but I do not mean to marry her whole family." This disrespectful pleasant- ry has something in it so cold, so selfish, that even if the lady's family be disagreeable, there is a total absence of delicate feeling to her in thus speaking of those near- est to her. To her parents especially, the conduct of the betrothed man should be respectful ; to her sisters kind, without familiarity ; to her brothers, every evidence of good-will should be testified. In making every provi- sion for the future, in regard to settlements, allowance for dres3, &2., the extent of liberality convenient should be the spirit of all arrangements. Perfect candor as to his orn affairs, respectful consideration for those of the fami- Ij he is about to enter, mark a true gentleman. In France, however gay and even blameable a man may have been before his betrothal, he conducts himself with tlie utmost propriety after that event. A sense of what U due to a luly should repress all habits unpleasant la t20 MARRIAGE. Dor : smokiug. if disagreeable ; frequenting places jf amusement svithout her; or paying attention to ;;ilii.'.* women. In this respect, indeed, the sense of honor shoulO load a man to be us scrupulous when his future wife i= absent as when she is present, if not moie so. These rules of conduct apply in some respects to ladies also. Nothing is so disgusting or unpromising for the future as the flirtations which engaged young ladies permit them- selves to carry on after they have pledged themselves to one person alone. This display of bad taste and vanity often leads to serious unhappiness, and the impropriety, if not folly, should be strongly pointed out to tlic young lady herself The attitude assumed by a flirt is often the impulse of folly more than of boldness. It is agreeable to her vanity, she finds, to excite jealousy, and to show her power. Even if the rash and transient triumph produce no lasting ef- fect on the peace of mind before marriage, it is often re- filled with bitterness after marriage by him wlio was then ^ cslave, but is now a master. In equally bad taste is exclusiveness. The devotions rf two engaged persons should be reserved for the tc(e-u ^Cie, and Avomen are generally in fault when it is Ovher- " i:ie. They like to exhibit their conquest ; they cannot dispense with attentions ; they forgot tliat the demonstra- tion of any peculiar condition of things in society must wake some one uncomfortable ; the young lady is. un- comfortable because she is not equally happy ; the joung man detests wha* he calls nonsense ; the olil think there ia a time for all things. All sitting apart, therefore, and peculiar displays, are in bad taste ; I am incLned to think that they often accompany insincerity, and that tbc true^i PECUNIARY MATTERS. 4*2 i affections are tliosc which are reserved ir»r the genuihe ind heartfelt intimacy of private interviews. At the samf ime, the airs of iniliff'orence and avoidance shouhl b? *<|ually guarded against ; since, however strong a nuitua) ittachment may be. such a line of conduct is apt nf*^] Issslj to mislead others, and so produce mischief. Tra^ feeling, and a ladylike consideration for others, a point ih ^hich the present generation essentially fails, are the be.^t guides for steering bet'v\'een the extremes of deujonstra- tion on the one hand, and of frigidity on the other. During the arrangement of pecuniary matters, a young (ady should endeavor to understand Avhat is going on, re- ceiving it in a right spirit. If she has fortune, she should, in all points left to her, be generous and confiding, at the same time prudent. IMany a man, she should re- member, may abound in excellent qualities, and yet be improvident. He may mean to do "well, yet have a pas- won for building ; he may be the very soul of good na ture, yet fond of the gaming-table ; he may have no wrong propensities of that sort, and yet have a confu.seQ notion of accounts, and be one of those men who muddh away a great deal of money no one knows how ; or he may be a too strict economist, a man who takes too good care gT the pence, till he tires your very life out about an extra qucen'»-head ; or he may be facile or weakly grod- natured, and have a fri'^nd who preys on him, and for whom he is disposed to become security. Finally, the b(;l:ved Charles, ITenry, or Reginald may have none oi these propensities, bat ^ay chance to be an honest mer- chant, or a tradesman, wit?! all his floaii'ig cajrital in business, and a consequent risk cf bc'ng '>n«i, da^ ric;b, th< Q9xt * pauper. 422 MARRTAOB. Upon every account, therefore, it is iesirable for a young liuly to have a settlement on her; and she dhould not, from a weak spirit of romance, oppose her frieud? »^ho advise it, since it is for her husband's advantage as flF^ll 05 her own. By making a settlement there :s always a fund which cannot be touciied — a something, however small, as a provision for a wife and children ; and whether she have fortune or not, this ought to be made. An al- lowance for dress should also be arranged ; and this should be administered in such a way that a wife should not have to ask for it at mconvenient hours, and thus irritate her husband. Every preliminary being settled, there remains nothing except to fix the marriage day, a point always left to the lady to advance ; and next to settle how the ceremonial ia to be performed is the subject of consideration. Marriage by banns is confined to the poorer classes ; and a license is generally obtained by those who aspire to the " habits of good society^ It is within the recollection of many, even middle-aged persons, that the higher classes were, some tvrenty years ago, married only by special license — a process costing about X50 instead of X5 ; and therefore supposed by our commercial country especially to denote good society. Special licenses have, however, be- come unfashionable. They were obtained chiefly on ac- count of their enabling persons to be married at any hour whereas the canon prescribes the forenoon ; aftei mid-day t is illegal to celebrate a marriage. In some instances, iuiing the Crimean war, special licenses were resorted f to unite couples— when the bridegroom-elect had been Oi'deretl off, and felt, with his bride, that it were happier for both to belong to each other even in death- But the THE LICENSE AND THE TROUSCEAU. 423 ordinarj couples walk up to the altars of their respective parish churches. It is to be lamented that previously to so solemn a cer- emony, the thougiits of the lady concerned must necos- Jarily be engaged for some time upon her froi/sseau. Th« trousseau, consists, in this country, of all the iiabiliments necessary for a lady's use for the first two or tiiree years of her married life ; like every other outfit there are al- ways a number of articles introduced into it that are next to useless, and are only calculated for the vain-glory of the ostentatious. A trousseau may, in quiet life, be form- ed upon so low a sum as .£60 or £70; it seldom costs* however, less than £100, and often mounts up to "^oOO, By which useless extravagance a mass of things that soon cease to be fashionable, or that wear out from being laid by, is accumulated. The trousseau being completed, and the day fixed, it becomes necessary to select the bridesmaids and the bride- groom's man, and to invite the guests. The bridesmaids are from two to eight in number. It is ridiculous to have many, as the real intention of the bridesmaid is, that she should act as a witness of the mar- riage. It is, however, thought a compliment to include the bride's sisters and those of the bridegroom's relationa and intimate friends, in case sisters do not exist. When a bride is young the bridesmaids should be young but it is absurd to see a " single woman of a certain age,^' or a widow, surrounded by blooming girls, making her look plain and foolish. For them the discreet woman of thirty- five is more suitable as a bridesmaid. Custom decides that the bridesmaids should be spinsters, but there is nc legal objection tD a married waman being a bridesmaid 424 MARRIAOK. ghouKl it be necessary, as it might be abroad, or at sea of ■wberc ladies are few in number. Great care should b« taken not to give offence in the choice of bridesmaids bj a j/reference, which is always in bad taste on momentous occasiois. The guests at the wedding should be selected with sim- ilar attention to what is right and kind, with consideration to those Avho have a claim on us, not only to what we ourselves prefer. In London, for a great wedding breakfast, it is custom- ary to send out printed cards from the parents or guar- dians from whose house the young lady is to be married. Early in the day, before eleven, the bride should bp dressed, taking breakfast in her own room. In England we load a bride with lace flounces on a rich silk, and even sometimes with ornaments. In France it is always re- membered, with better taste, that when a young lady goes up to the altar, she is " encore jeiine fillc ;" her dress, therefore, is exquisitely simple ; a dress of tulle over wliite silk, a long wide veil of white tulle, going down to the very feet, a wreath of maiden-blush-roses interspersed with orange flowers. This is the usual costume of a French bride of rank or it the middle classes equally. In England, however, one must conform to the established custom, although it is much to be wished that in the classes who can set the example, the French usage should be udoptcd. A lace dress over silk is generally worn in Eng- land The lace should be of the finest quality. Brus- sels or Iloniton is the most delicate and becoming the veil should be of the same sort of lace as the dress. A wreath of roses and oran2;e flowers is worn round the head, not confining the veil. The silk ought t: be plain ; glace. nle, and of the finest quality. The bouquets of the bridesmaids should be of mixed flowers. These they may have at church, but the present custom is for the gentlemen of the house to present them on their return home, previous to the wedding breakfast. The register is then signed. The bride quits the church first with the l)ridegroom, and gets into his car- riage, and the father and mother, bridesmaids, and bride- groom's man, follow in order in their own. The breakfast is arranged on one or more tables, and ia generally provided by a confectioner when expense is not an object. Flowers skilfully arranged in fine Bohemian g^iss, or in ("pergnes composed of silver, with glass-dishes, are very ornamental on each side of the wedding-cake, which stands in the centre. When the breakfast is sent from a confec- tioner's, or is arranged in the house by a professed cx-k the wedding-cake is richly ornamented with flowers, IL ■agar, and a knot of orange-flowers at toe top. At each end of the table are tea and coffee. Soup is sometiraea Landed. Generally the viands aio cold, consisting ol poultry or game, lobstcr-s;ilads, chicken or fish -.' la May- yniaisses hams, tongues, potted-meats, prawns, and 428 MARRIAOB. gume-pies ; raisins, savory jellies, s-\voets oft-veiy tlcsctip- tion- -all cold. Ice is afterwards handed, and. before tlu healths are drunk, the wedding-cake is cut by the nea'eoi genth man and handed round. Th 3 fatlier then proposes the health of the bride an-l bridegroom. The latter is expected to answer, and to propose the bridegroom's man. The bridegroom's man reiurns thanks, and pledges the bridesmaids, who answer through the bridegroom. All other toasts are optional, but it is de rignenr that the hoallh of the clergyman or clergymen who tied the knot, if present, should bo drunk. After these ceremonials have been duly performed, and ample justice has been done to the breakfast, the bride retires^ and the company usually take leave of her in the drawing room and depart. It must be borne in mind that the wedding-breakfast is not a dinner, and that the gentlemen do not stay be- hind to take wine when the party breaks up and the la- dies go up stairs. A few words before this sometimes gay, sometimes sad scene is dismissed. The good sense of several personages in the higher ranks has broken through the customary appearance ol the bride at the breakfast, or indeed if she breakfast at all. In France, the friends assembled to witness a wed- ding do not folbw the bride home. A ball or soiree jenerally follows in the evening. Most people, one would suppose, would be gladly released from the unnatural re- past at an unusual hour ; the headache that makes tha lest of the day miserable ; the hurry of the morning ; the lassitude of the afternoon ; the tearful, stumbling speeches of " dear papa" after champagne , the modest, ehy, broken ASTER TUE EVENT. 42P »enicncea of the victimized bridegrciom ; the cxtii.melj? critical situation of his bachelor friend, expected tu be ir. love with all the bridesmaids ; the sighs of tlic motiier, fir 1 prognostics of maiden aunts ; the heat, the disgust to iiicse articles which look so well bj candlelight, but do a:t b^ar daylight — creams, whips, jellies, and all thit {jibe of prisons; and, worst of all, the vast expense to those ■\\ho pay, and slight degree of pleasure to those who do not — these are amonci; the miseries of the weddinS' breakfast. Then the peculiar situation of the bride, tricked out with finery like the hoei(f-fjras on Slirove-Tuesday, every one staring at her to see how she looks ; her sensitive na- ture all excited by the jjast solemnity ; her inmost feelinga crushed or raked up, as may be, by congratulations. To subject a lady to such torture seems an act of cruelty in cold blood. Suppose her joy is too great for utterance that there has been opposition in delay, why stick her up on a pedestal, so that all may read the emotions of that throbbing heart beneath its encasement of Brussels lace ? Suppose that heart does not go along with the joy, and the compliments and the hopes of ever-constant felicity ; " let the stricken deer go weep ;" do not parade what now bad better be forgotten. To some heart in that over- dressed assembly of smiling friends there will be a touch, in whatever is said, to give pain ; on occasions also where the feelings form the actual theme, the less said tta better. The bride has, however, retired, and we will follow, I];;r trivelling-dress is now to be assum.ed. This should be good in quality, but plain, like a handsome dress foi Eaoroiug calls. An elegant bonnet, not too plain, a hand 430 MARRIAGE. some nhawl or mantle, and colored gloves, form the suitA^ ble costume, of which it is impossible to define the com- ponent parts, but we merely recommend that the cole r« cf the dress, and shawl, and bonnet, should as nearlj at poesiS'le assimil.ate ; that the style shouli be of the ver? best, so that the impression left may be suitable, agreea ble and elegant. One more word about fees to servants. These form a 7ery varying point on a marriage, and depend on the con- dition in life of the parties. A considerable sum is ex- pected from a nobleman, or a comnir^ner of large fortune, but a much more modest calculation for a professional man. or a son whose filher is still living, and who receives merely an allowance to enable him to marry. Presents ai'e usual, first from the bridegroom to the bridesmaids. These generally consist of jewelry, the de- vice of which should be unifpie or quaint, the article more elegant than massive. The female servants of the family, more especially servants who have lived many years in their place, also expect presents, such as gowns or shawls ; or to a very valued personal attendant oi housekeeper, a watch. But on such points discretion iGust suggest, and libeiality measure out the largesse of febfl gift. 1882. NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS, RECIiNTLY ISSUED tV G. W. CAELETOri&Co., Publishers, CJ^ Madisoa flqxi^ie, Hew York, Tho Publishers, on receipt of price, send nny book on this Catalogue by m:ii],/^>sia^ej'?-ee. All biud.-'O'nely bound in clolh, with gilt backs suitable for libraries. iTlary J. Holint?s' WcrkE, Tempe?t and Sunshine ?i 50 ISnglish Orphans i 50 Homestead on th"? HUIside i 50 'Lena Rivfcrs i 50 Meadow Brook i 50 Dora Deane i 50 Cousin Mauda. i o Mp.rian Gr.y i st Eriith Lyle - i st Dpity Thornton i jo Chateau D'Or (New) i 50 Alone £1 Midden Path . 1 5,0 Moss Side 1 50 Kemesis 1 jo Miriam i. 50 At Last I 50 Helen Gardner 1 50 True as Steel iNew) 1 50 E:Z3.rloj>. ."flarland's "^''orlis. Darkness and Daylight $1 Hugh VVorthington i Cameron Pride j Rose Mather .''.'.' j Kthelyn's Mistake j M.Ubank 1 J' doa Browning i West Lavi^n i Mildred 1 Forrest House 1 Madeline (New) i Sunnybank §1 Husbands and Homes 1 Ruby's Husband i Phemie's Temptation i 'i he Empty Heart i Jessamine 1 From My Youth Up i My Little Love i rha-lpR r f-ckcns— 1-5 Vols.—" rarlotor.'s Edition." Pickwick and Catalogue §1 50 Dombsy and Son i 50 Bleak House i 50 Martin Chuzzlewit 150 Barnaby Rudge — Edwin Drood. i 50 Child's England — Miscellaneous i 50 Christma, Books — T wo Cities. .. i 50 David Copperfield $1 Nicholas Nickleby i Little Dcrrit i Our Mutual Friend i Curiosity Siiop — Miscellaneous, i Sketches by Eoz— Hard Times., i Great Expectations — Italy i Oliver Twist— Uncoi.Tmercial. .. 1 Sets of Dickens' Complete 'Works, in i, vols — [elejant half caU' biudings]... 50 f ugnsta J. Fvnns' Novels. Beu'.ah §1 73 I St. Elmo $2 Macaria i 75 Vashti 2 Inez I 75 I Infelice (New) 2 G. W. CARLETO.V &> CO:S PUBLICATIONS. May Agnes Fleming's Novels. Guy Earlscourt's Wife gi A Terrible Secret i 50 Norine's Revenge i 53 Silent and True i 50 Iliir of.Charlton i -o I^ost for a Woman — New 1 50 The Game of >R/hist. Pols on Whist— The English statulard work. With the " Portland Rules.' Miiiasn CJoles Harri;? A Wonderful Woman %\ A Mad Marriage i One Night's tAystery . 1 Kate Danton , .. i Carried by btorm \ A Wife's Tragedy ... (Xcw) i Rutlsdge .§1 50 Frank Warrington t 50 Louie's Last Terra, St. Mary's., t 10 A Perfect Adonis i 30 Missy — New i 50 Mrs. Hili The Sutherlands $1 St. Philips 1 Round Hearts for Children i Richard Vandermarck i Happy-Go-Lucky.. .(.New) i ook Book. Mrs. A. P. Hill's New Southern Cookery Book, and domestic receipts §2 Julie P. Saiith s Novolf?. 1 he Widower §1 The Married Belle i Courting and Farming i Kiss and be Friends i Widow Goldsmith's Daughter, §1 50 | Chris and Otho i 50 Ten 0!d Maids 1 50 His Young Wife i jo Lucy — New 1 50 Victor Jruf^o. Les Miserables — Translated from the Trenrh. The only complete edition $1 Captain Mayne Reid. The Scalp Hunters $1 50 ( The White Chief. §1 The Rifle Rangers i 50 The "I'iger Hunter i The War Trail i 50 The Hunter's Feast i The Wood Rangers 1 50 The Wild Huntress i 50 A. S. Roe's True to the Last §i 50 The Star and the Cloud i 50 How Could Ke Help it ? i 50 Cliarie Wild Life 1 Osceola, the Seminole i Select S' or"es. A Long Look Ahead $1 I've Been 'J hinkmg i To Love and to be Loved i Hickens. Child's History of England — Cark-tou's New " School Edition" Illustrated. . §1 < Haud'-Boaks of Society. The Habits of Good Society — The nice points of ta CarJeton's Popular Quotationse Carleton's New Hand-Book — Familiar Quotations, with tl-.eir Authorship $1 Fajnoiis Books— CarHel^-n's Edilicn. Arabian Nights — llhistrations §1 00 | Don Quixote — 1 -ore Iili!stratior.s..$i Robinson Crusoe — Griseu do... i 00 I Swiss Family Robinson, du... 11 Jcssh Eillis2gs. His Complete AA^ritings — With Biography. Steel Portrr.it, and 100 Illustrations. $2 , Old Probability — Ten Comic Almina.\, 1870 to 1S79. llound in one volume i Allan Pinkisrton, Model Town and Detectives. ...§1 50 | Spiritualists and Detectives. Strikers. Communists, etc 150 Criminal Reminiscences, etc i 50 Gypsies and Detectives i 50 A New Book i 50 Celia E. Gardner's Novel Mollie Mnguires and Detectives 1 Mississippi Outlaws, etc i Bucholz and Detectives. i R. R. Forger and Detectives.... i Stolen Waters. (Inverse) .§1 50 Broken Dreams. (Inverse) i 50 Compensation, (Inverse) i 50 Terrace Roses i 50 Tested §1 Rich Medway s Two Loves i A Woman's Vv/iles i A Twisted Skein... (In verse).... i G. W. CARLETON &- CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. "Ne-w York "Weeli'y" Ferie Brownie's Triumph §i 50 The Forsaken Bride 1 50 His Other Wife i 50 Nick Whiffles i 50 Lady Leo no re i£o The Grinder Papers i ;o Faithful Margaret 150 Curse of Everleigh i 50 Thrown on the \Vorld §1 50 A Bitier Atonement i 50 Love VVor. s Woadcrs i 50 Evelyn's Foly , 1 50 Lady Darner's becrct i 50 A VVoman's Temptation i 50 Repented at Leisure i 50 Between Two Loves i 50 Peerless Cathlecn i 50 Artemas Ward. Complete Comic Writings — With IJiogr.iphy, Portrait, and 50 illustrations §1 Jo Charles > ickens. Dickens' Parlor Table Album of Illustrations— with descriptive text $2 30 M. M. Pomcrry ("Brick"). Sense. A serious book Si 5"' I Nonsense. (Acoicbook) §i 50 Gold Dust. Do. 150 Brick-dust. Do. 150 Our Saturday Nights i 50 | Home Harmonies i 50 Ernest Renan's Frenck Works. The Life of Jesus. Translated .$i 75 I The Life of St. Paul. Translated. §1 75 Lives of the Apostles. Do. ... 1 75 | The Bible in India— By JacoUiot.. 2 00 G. W^. Carleton. Our Artist in Cuba, Peru, Spain, and Algiers— 150 Caricatures of travel fi co Misceilaneons Puklicatioas. The Children's Fairy Geography — With hundruls of beautiful illustrations $2 50 Hawk-eyes — Aciniio book by "The Hiirlington Hawkeye Man." Illustrated i 50 Among the Thorns — A new novel by Mrs. Mary Lowe Dickinson i 50 Our Daughters —A talk with mothers, by jSIari jn Hariand, author of '"Alone,".. 50 Redbirds Christmas Story — kn illustrated Juvenile. Hy Mary J. Holmes 50 Carleton's Popular Readings— Edited by Mrs. Anna Randall-Diehl i 50 The Culprit Fay — Josepli Rodman Drakes Poem. With 100 illustrations 2 00 L' Assommoir — English Translation from Zola's famous French novel i 00 Parlor Amusements — Games, Tricks, and Home Amusements, by F. Eeilew... i cO Love [L'Amour] — Translation frm Michelet's famous French work i 50 Woman [La Femme]. Do. Do. Do i 50 Verdant Green— A racy English college Story. With 200 comic illustrations i 00 Solid for Mulhooly — The .Sharpest Political Satire of the Day 1 00 A Northern Governess at the Sunny South — Uy Professor J. H. Ingraham. . i 50 Laus Veneris, and otier Poems — I'y Algernon Charles Swinburne i 50 Birds of a Feather Flock Together — By Edward A. Sothern, the actor 1 co Beatrice Cenci — from the Italian novel, with Guido's celebrated portrait i 50 Morning Glories — A charming collection tf Chi d: en's sto-ies. By Louisa Alcot. i 00 Some Women of To-day— A novel by Mrs. Dr. Wni. H. White i 50 From New York to San Francisco — By Mrs. Frank Leslie. Illustrated i 50 Why Wife and I Quarreled — A Poem by author " Betsey and I are out." i 00 West India Pickles— A yacht Cm se in the Tropics. By W. P. Talboys i co Threading My Vv^ay—Tnc Aut.bio^rapy of Robert Dale Owen i so Debatable Land between this Word and Next — Robert Dale Owen 2 00 Lights and Shadows of Spiritualism — By I^. D. Home, the Medium ji 00 Yachtman's Primer — Instructions fir Amateur Sailors. By Warren 50 The Fall of Man — K Darwinian Satire, by author of " New Gospel of Peace." ... 50 The Chronicles of Gotham— A New Vork Satire. Do. Do. ... 25 Tales from the Operas— A ro lection of stories based upon the Oi era plots i 00 Ladies and Gentlemen's Etiquette Book of th ■ best Fashionable Society i 00 Self Culture in Conversation, Letter- Writing, and Oratory i 00 Love and Marriage— A book for young people. By Fiederick Saunders i 00 Under th3 Rose — A Capital book, by the author of •' East Lvnne," 1 co So Dear a Dream— A n.ncl by Miss G-ant, author if "The .Sun Maid " 1 00 Give me thine Heart— A Capital new Love Story by Roe i 00 Meeting Her Fate — A charming novel by the author of "Aurora Floyd" i 00 The New York Cook-Book—15uok of Domestic Receipts. By Mrs. Astor i 00 G. W. CARLETON &- CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. Miscellaneons 'Works, Dawn to Noon— By Violet l'ane..$i 50 Constance's Fate. Do. .. i 50 How to Win in Wall Street .... i 00 Poems — I!y iMrs. I!i lonificlJ Moore, i 50 A Bad Boy's First Reader 10 John Swinton's Travels 25 Sarah Bernhardt — Her Life 25 Arctic Travel — Isaac I. Hayes i 50 College Tramps — F A. Stokes.... 1 50 H. M. S. Pinafore— 1 he Play 10 A Steamer Book— W. T. Helmuth. i co Lion Jack— !>y P. T. Bariium i 50 Jack m the Jungle. Do i 50 Gospels in Poetry — K. H. Kimball, i 50 Southern Woman Story — Pember 75 Madam:; Le Verfs — Souvenirs.... 2 00 He and I — Sarah 15. Stebbins 50 Annals of a Baby. Do 50 Victor Hugo — Autobiography $1 Orpheus C. Kerr— 4 vols, in one.. 2 Fanny Fern Memorials 2 Parodies— C. H. Webb (John Paul). My Vacation — Do. Do. Sandwiches — Artenius Ward Watchman of the Night Nonsense Rhymes — W. H.Heckett Lord Bateman — Cruikshank's 111.. Northern Ballads — K. D.Anderson Beldazzle Bachelor Poems Me— .Mrs. Spi-ncer W. Coe Little Guzzy — John Habbcrton.. . . Offenbach in America About Lawyers — Jeffreson About Dostors — Do Widow Spriggins — Widow Bedott. Hovvf to Make Money — Davies.... MisoellaiiBons Novels Sub Rosa- Chas. T. Murray §1 50 Hilda and I — K. Hcdcll Benjamin, i 50 Madame — Frank l,ee Benedict i 50 Hammer and Anvil. Do i 50 Her Friend Lawrence. Do i 50 A College Widow— C. H. Seymour i 50 Shiftless Folks — Fannie Smith.... i 50 Peace Pelican. Do. .... i 50 Prairie Flower— Emerson Bennett, i 50 Rose of Memphis — \V. C. Kalkncr. i 50 Price of a Life— R. Forbes .Sturgis. i 50 Hidden Power — P. II. 'J'ibbles i 50 Two Brides — Hernarl O'Reilly ... i 50 Sorry Her Lot — Miss Grant 1 co Two of Us-Calista Halsey 75 Spell-Bound —Alexandre Dnma'J... 75 Cupid on Crutches— A. P. Wood.. 75 Doctor Antonio— G. Ruffini i 50 Parson Thorns — Buckinshani i 50 PJarston Hall— L. Kllu ByrJ i 50 Ange — I'loreiic;; Marryatt i 00 Errors — Ruth Carter i 53 Heart's Delight — Mrs. Alderdicc. . i jo Unmis akable Flirtation — Garner 73 Wild Oats— Florence Marryatt i 50 Widov/ Cherry — ii. L. Farjeon... 75 Solomon Isaacs. Do. .... 50 Led Astray— Octave Feniilet i 50 She Loved Him Madly — IJorys... i 50 Thick and Thin— ML-ry i 50 So Fur yet False— Chavette 1 50 A Fatal Passion— C. Pernard Woman in the Case^B. Turner., i 50 Marguerite's Journal— For Girls., i 50 Edith Murray — Joanna Mathews., i co Doctor Mortimer — Fannie Bean... i 50 Outwitted at Last — S.A.Gardner i 50 Vesta Vane — L. King, R i 50 Louise and I— C. R. Dodge i 50 My Queen — By SanJette 1 50 Failen among Thieves — Rayne... i 50 San Miniato — Mrs. Hamilton 100 A.l For Her— A Talc of NcwYork..$ All For Him— By All For Her For Each Other. Do Pcccavi — Emma Wenc'Ier Conquered — By a New Author Janet — An English novel Saint Leger— l^ichard B. Kimball. Was He Successful ? Do. . Undercurrents of Wall St. Do. . Romance of Student Life. Do. . To-Day. Do. . Life in San Domingo. Do. . Henry Powers, Banker. Do. . Baroness of N. Y. -Joaquin Miller One Fair Womnn. Do. Another Man's Wife — Mrs. Hartt Purple and Fine Linen — Fawcctt. Pauline's Trial — L D. Courtney.. The Forgiving Kiss — M. Loth Flirtation — A West Point novel.... Lcyal into Death That Awful Boy That Bridget cf Ours Bitterwocd — By M. A. Green Phemie Frost— Ann S. Stc] hens.. Charette — An American no\cl Fairfax — John Esten Cooke Hilt to Hilt. Do Out of the Foam. Do Hammer and Rapier. Do Warwick — By M. T. Walworth.... Lulu. Do. .... Hotspur. Do. Stormcliff. Do. Delaplaine. Do. .... Beverly. Do. Kenneth— Sallie A. Brock.. Heart Hungry — Westmoreland Clifford Troupe — Do, ^ilcott Mill— Maria D. Deslonde.. John Ma;ibel. Do. L/Ove's Vengeance Mrs. Mary J. Holmes' Works. TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE. ENGLISH ORPHANS. HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE. •LE.\A RIVERA. MEADOW BROOK. DORA DEANE. COUSIN MAUDE. MARIAN GREY. EDITH LYLE. DAISY THORNTON. (New). DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT. HUGH WORTHINGTON. CAMERON PRIDE. ROSE MATHER. ETHKLYN'S MISTAKK MILLBANK. EDNA BKONVNING. WEST LAWN. MILDRED. FORREST HOUSE. \(NewJ. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. "'Mrs. Holmes' stories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless. She is in many respecis without a rival in the world of fiction. Her characters are always life like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, ami actuated by the same motives which are common among men and women of every day existence. Mrs. Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse her stories with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend." — Netv York lyeekly. The North American Review, vol. 8i, pajre 557, s^ys of Mrs. Mary J. Holmes' novel, "English (Orphans": — "With this novel of Mrs. Holmes' we h.Tve been charmed, and so have a pretiy numerous circle of discriminating readers to whom we have lent it. The characterization is exquisite, especially so far as concerns rural and vill.=<5:e life, of which there are some pictures that deseive to be hung up in perpetual memory of types of humani.y fast becoming extinct. The dial.jgues are generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. The plot seems simple, so easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. Moreover, the siory thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without ohtiudmg, not only pure Christian morality in general, bu', with especial point and power, the depen- dence of true success on character, and of true resp.ctability on merit," "Mrs. Holmes' stories are aTJ of 1 domestic character, and their interest. ostiif;e free, on receipt of price [•§ 1.50 each], by G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, Madison Square, New York. r CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. A NEW EDITION. A.Tior.f the many editions of the works of this greatest of Enalish Novelists, there has not been until fro7(j one that entirelv eatislies the public demand. — Without exception, they each hav.^ some stiong distinctive objection, — either the form and dimen- sions of the volumes are unhandy — or, the tvpe is srnal! and indistinct — or, the illustrations arc unsatisfactory — or, tlie bind- ing is pooi — or, the price is too high. An entirely new edition is ;wrc. however, published by G. \V. Carleton & Co., of New York, which, in every respect, con»- pletely satisfies the popular demand. — It is known as "Carleton's New Illustrated Edition." Complete in 15 Volumes. The size and form is most convenient for holding, — the type is entire!}' new, and of a clear and open character that has received the approval of the reading community in other works. The illustrations are by the original artists chosen b)' Charles Dickens himself — and the paper, printing, and binding are of an attractive and substantial character. This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes — at the extremely reasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows : — I. — PICICWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE. 2. — OLIVER TWIST. — UNCOM.MERCI.'VL TRAVELLER. 3. — DAVID COPPERFIELD. 4. — GREAT EXPECTATIONS. — ITALY AND AMERICA. 5. — DOMBEV AND SON. 6. — BARNAliY RUDGE AND EDWIN DROOD. 7. — NICHOLAS NICKLERY. 8. — CURIOSITY SHOP AND MISCELLANEOUS. 9. — BLEAK HOUSE. ID. — LITTLE DORRIT. II. — MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 12. — OLR MUTUAL FRIEND. 13. — CHRISTMAS BOOKS. — TALE OF TWO CITIES. 14. — SKETCHES BY BOZ AND HARD TIMES. 15. — child's ENGLAND AND MISCELLANEOUS. The first vo'.ume —Pickwick Papers — contains an alphabetical catalogue of a' I ol Charles Dickens' writings, with their exact posit'ons in the volumes. This edition is sold by Booksellers, every^vhere — and single specimen copies vvil! be forwarded by mail, fosiaje free, on re- ceipt of price, $1.50, by G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishprs, Madison Square, New York. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 1^ ^\ .«ii\*' ■\\i x'^- ,A\^ \ XX A ^^X&^/¥\\M^ X\ X A >, \