GIFT OF Admiral Chauncey Thomas LAAOCL, , ' // THE HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. tHOUGHTS, HINTS, AND ANECDOTES CONCERNING SOCIAL OBSERVANCES, NJCE POINTS OF TASTE AND GOOD MANNERS; AND THE ART OF MAKING ONE'S-SELF AGREEABLE. THE WHOLE INTER- SPERSED WITH HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS OF SOCIAL PREDICAMENTS | REMARKS 0$ THE HISTORY AND CHANGES OF FASHION; AND THE DIFFERENCES OF ENGLISH AND CONTINENTAL ETIQUETTE. [jfrom tfjr Hast Hontiou NEW YORK: Carleton^ Publisher > 413 Broadway, (LATE RUDD & CARLETON.) M DCCC LXV. \ ^ CONTENTS. PREFACE, THE LADY'S PREFACE, THOUGHTS ON SOCIETY AND THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES, PA OB 13 21 23 MANNERS : How can they be acquired ? Different means investigated. Necessity of some Guide. Ancient and Modern Authori- ties on Manners. The true principle of Manners. What is Society ? The necessity of Social Inter- course. THREE CLASSES OP BAD SOCIETY t 1. Low Society, distinguished by Familiarity. Anecdotes of Extreme Famili- arity in the last Three Centu- ries. Familiarity from want of Re- spect ; from Coarseness ; from Shyness ; from Curiosity. 2. Vulgar Society, distinguished by pretension; Gentility; Ser vility ; Overscrupulousness ; Assumption of Refinement in Language and in Habits. 3. Dangerous Society : Sketch of English Society from the Sixteenth Century. Rise and present position of the Middle Classes. THE REQUISITES OF GOOD SOCIETY : 1. Good Breeding. 2. Education. 3. Cultivation of Taste. 4. Reason. 5. The Art of Speech. 6. A Knowledge of English Liter* ture. 7. Moral Character. 8. Temper. 6 - ' " CONTENTS. 10. Good Manners 11. Birth. 12. Wealth. 13. Rank. 14. Distinction. THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OB- SERVANCES : The Connexion between the Laws of Christianity and those o( Society. Domestic Position. Paterfamilias. The Matron. The Young Married Man. The Bachelor. The Young Lady The Art of making One's self Agreeable. PAKT I. THE INDIVIDUAL. CHAPTER I. THE DRESSING ROOM. 107 Cleanliness. The Bath: Hot, Cold, and Tepid. The Teeth. The Nails. Razors and Shaving. Beards, Moustaches, Whiskers. The Hair. CHAPTER H. THE LADY'S TOILET 127 Early Rising. Cleanliness. Exercise 1 Rouge and Cosmetics. The Hair. [Perfumes, Toilet Appliances, &c. CHAPTER m. DRESS, Fashion ; Appropriateness to Age ; to Position ; to Place ; Town and Country ; on the Continent ; to Climate ; to Size ; to different occasions. Extravagance. Simplicity. Jewelry. Maxims for Ornaments, Orders, &c. CONTENTS. CHAPTER III DBESS. (Continued.) PA SB. 138 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. Fast-dressing. Different Styles of Dress. Sporting Costume. Hunting, &c. CHAPTER IV. LADY'S DRESS 176 The Love of Dress. Extravagance, Pecuniary, and in Fashion. Modern Dress, Stays, Tightness, &c. Dress and Feeling. The Ordinary In-door Dress. Che 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 209 Their Value. Self-defence Boxing. The Sword and the Fist. Duelling. Field Sports. 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 Affair*. Carviny : Hints on Carving and Helping. Soup CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. ACCOMPLISHMENTS. (Continued.) 209 Carving: Hints on Carving and Helping. Fish. Joints (Beef, Mutton, Lamb, Veal, Pork, Ham, Venison). Animals served whole. Fowls, Game, Goose, Turkey, &c. CHAPTER VI. FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 259 Their Necessity. Social and Domestic Value. Music. Choice of Instruments. Singing. Age a restriction. Choice of Songs. Etiquette of Singing and Play- ing. Appropriateness. German and Italian Singing. Working. Working Parties Abroad. Appropriateness of Work. CHAPTER Vn. MANNERS, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS. 270 The necessity for Laws of Eti- quette. Manner : value of a good one. Rules for preserving it. Self-respect, Affectation. Different kinds of Manner to be avoided. A change of Manner demanded by circumstances. Carriage. Dignity. Physical Carriage, and how a man should walk. The Smile. Vehement action to be avoided. Certain Bad Habits. Smoking discussed. Etiquette thereof. A Lecture on Eating and Drink- ing at Dinner, and Habits at Meals. CHAPTER Vin. THE CARRIAGE 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 Stock- ing. Bearing of Married Women. French Manners. The Physical Carriage of Ladies. CONTENTS. 9 PART. II. THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDIVIDUAL RELATIONS. CHAPTER IX. IN PUBLIC. PAGB 311 The Promenade. The Cut." Its Folly and objectionable char- acter. Sometimes necessary. Should be made Inoffensively. Etiquette of the "Cut" The Salute. Its History. Different Modes of Salutation. Shaking Hands. Various Ways of doing so. Walking and Driving with La dies. Etiquette of Railway Travel- ling. CHAPTER X. IN PRIVATE, 330 The Visit. Proper Time and Occasions for Visiting. Introduction by Letters. Visits of Condolence and Con- gratulation. Hours for Visits. The Cards. Etiquette in Calling. " Not at Home." Visits in Good Society. Visits in Country Houses. PART HI.-- THE INDIVIDUAL IN COMPANY. CHAPTER XI. DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES. 843 DINNER 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. 10 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. (Continued.) DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNEB-PAKTIES. i 1 ' p. 342 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. Salad. Grace. Dinner Etiquette. Punctuality, &c. CHAPTER XII. LADIES at DINNER. 361 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 XIII. BALM. Their Place in Society. The Invitations. Whom to Invite. The Proper Number. The Requisites for a Good Ball. Arrangement of the Rooms. Lighting. The Floor. The Music. Refreshments. 378 The Supper. Bail-Room Etiquette. Receiving the Guests. Introductions. * The Invitation to Dance. Ball-room Acquaintance. Going to Refreshments and Sup- per. Manners at Supper. Flirtation. Public Balls. CHAPTER XIV. MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES. 897 "Making a Party." Town Parties (Receptions, Pri- vate Concerts, Amateur Theatricals, Tea-Party, Ma- tinees). General Rules. Country Parties (Evening Par- ties, Outdoor-parties and Pic- nics). General Rules. CONTENTS. 11 CHAPTER XV. MABBIAGE. PAGE 414 Offers. Engagements. . Marriage Contracts and Settle- ments. The License. The Trousseau. The Bridesmaids. Invitations. The Lady's Dress. The Gentleman's Dress. Going to the Church. The Ceremony. The Breakfast. Travelling Dress. Fees to Servants. Presents, &c. PREFACE. I AM the Man in the Club- Window. Which club and which window? you ask, and is it in Pali-Mall or St. James' street ? I regret that I must decline to satisfy your very laudable curiosity. But there are other means of doing so: the "clerks" at the army-tailor's, the po- lice-man on beat, even the crossing-sweeper a little lower down will, I fancy, know whom you mean, if you ask for the Man in the Club- Window. I feel less delicacy in explaining to you why I sit in the club-window, and how I come to have sat there for the last ten years. I say " sat," but I may add "stood," for I do vary my position. When day is waning in the west, and the passing populace of the streets fails to in- terest me any longer, such moments are the drearier ones of my life. I am a bachelor. In the year which followed the French Revolution, I was left by a very severe fever, weak, morbid, and inca- pable of mixing in any society. I could only suppoit the translation from my sick-room to my club. Unable to read, unwilling to talk, and still less inclined to take part 03) 14 PREFACE. in cards or billiards, my sole amusement was to observe. I took in the window a seat, which has since by common consent been reserved for me, and there I have sat ever since, during three months of the year, from three to seven p. M. throughout the season. My only change has been to shift my chair from one side to the other, or to rise to get 'nearer to the pane of glass. A very useless existence, you will say. Pardon me. The present work will, I think, prove the contrary. My prospect has been twofold, that without and that within the club. Let me- begin with the former. On the opposite or non-club side of the street, my view extends to the following establishments : First, there is a fash- ionable hotel at some distance on my right next to this are well-known dining-rooms, celebrated for their cook, their wines, and their prices. The adjoining house is oc- cupied by several tenants, the principal of whom is a milliner, who holds the highest place in the estimation of the London fair, and the execration of their husbands and fathers. The next house is that of a welf-patronized cir- culating library, certainly more old-fashioned than Mr. Mudie's, but perhaps on that very account more a favor- ite with certain classes. Then comes my army-tailor on the ground floor, and above him a society for the propa- gation of something, but whether useful knowledge or fish, I am not in a position to state. Next to the army- tailor's is a sombre establishment, of which from time to time we hear in the newspapers as yielding a numbe* of PREFACE. 15 so-called " fashionable " young men, a green cloth, and a pair of dice-boxes, for the embarrassment of an intelligent magistrate. Beyond this is another sombre mansion, with a large board announcing in the season that the " Exhibition of Painters in Distemper " is there held, and beyond the exhibition I have never succeeded in pen- etrating. It will be easily understood that establishments of this varied character bring visitors of a very various descrip- tion. To the hotel come our country cousins and their boxes ; to the dining-rooms the young bachelors of Rotten How ; to the milliner's all the elite of London beauty and fashion ; to the library a great number of dowagers and elderly females ; to the army-tailor's a few young dandies ; to the society for propagation a smaller number of clergy- men and philanthropists; to the "hell" next to it, vari- ous waifs and raffs of the worst description ; and to the gallery, when open, half the society of the West End. With such an ebb and flow of life I might have enough to occupy my four hours of idleness, but this is not all. Between me and these points of attraction there are two side-pavements, and a very broad road. On the former I see specimens from every rank of male life, and the lower ranks of the other sex. The wretched urchin who con- verts his arms and legs into the spokes of a wheel, and thus runs by your side, presenting at last his bit of a cap for the well-earned halfpenny, has every whit as much in- terest for me as that stately being in a spotless frock-coat 16 PREFAB. and double-breasted white waistcoat Lord Charles Starche, I mean who is stalking from Boodles' to Brookes', and thinks that he does the pavement a great honor by the pressure of his perfect boot. Then in the road, though we are too recherche for om- nibuses, we have a graduated scale of vehicles, from the four-wheeled cab up to the yellow chariot, in which Dow- ager Lady Septuagene is huddled up, while two splendid Mercuries balance themselves behind. There are men of many classes in hansoms, broughams, cabriolets, and cur- ricles, and ladies passing to St. James in barouches and chariots. What I see, indeed, is what any one may see in the streets of London, but I see it all calmly ; and having nothing else to do, I observe in these ordinary outlines details which would escape many others. Indeed, I have arrived at that perfection of observation, that at one gknce I can fix the class to which a passer-by belongs, and at a second can tell you whether he or she is an ornament or a disgrace to it. I must not tell you much of "what I see and hear when I turn round. My club was once one of the best in Lon- don, but I regret to say it has sadly deteriorated, so much so that when I have finished my studies I shall have to seek another window elsewhere. A number of men have crept into it somehow who ought not to be there. For instance there is Glanderson, who, though he belongs to a good and old family, is nothing more or less than a horse PREFACE. 17 dealer. He vascillates between this and Tattersall's. He comes in from horses, and he goes out to horses. I need not add that he eats, drinks, dresses, and in short lives by horses. Now a horse-dealer may be an excellent man, but if he thinks nothing but horses, he cannot be good society. Glanderson thinks horses. If there is a rumor of war he has nothing to say about it, except that horse- flesh will rise in price. If there is to be a great political movement in a day or two, he only laments that it wiil intefere with the " Two Thousand." Then again there is Trickington. who is simply a card- sharper. It is no matter that his uncle is an earl, and his brother a Member ; Trickington would be sent to the treadmill if he practised in a railway carriage what he does here. If these men were away I should not com- plain of young Moulder, whose father made a fortune by patent candles j for Moulder has been to Eton and Cam' bridge, and is at least modest. I am an old bachelor, and have passed a varied life. - 1 have seen and mixed at different times in many grades of society. I have seen hundreds of vulgar, and thousands of ill-bred people. I have lived in the unenviable atmos- phere of foreign courts, and in the narrow circles of country villages. As I. have sought for good rather than high society, I have freely disregarded position, and entered where I thought I might find it. I have often been driven back by disgust and disappointment, but some- times gone to laugh and stayed to enjoy. With this ex- 18 PREFACE. perience I sat down in my club-window, and ruminated on men and manners, classes and company, society and sole- cisms. In watching from my club-window, I have asked myself, " What makes that man a gentleman, and the other who is passing him a snob ?" and I have passsed on to theorize on good-breeding. Confess, then, that it is magnanimous in me to submit the result of my long cogitations to the critical eye of the public. I have a fancy that any one might be a gentle- man if he could watch himself, as I watch him from my club- window. I have often longed to cry out to a man : " In the name of good taste, do give up that habit, take off that coat, or alter that walk." I have often longed to turn Turveydrop, and lecture these people on their manners. It is positively painful to me to see a man who aspires to the name and position of "gentleman," going so rery bad a way to become one. I feel convinced that if everybody was well-bred, this world would be far better and far happier. But as I could not cry across the street all day long, and should perhaps "do little good if I were to do so, I have had recourse to the printer. But I had not sat down to my foolscap when a thought of hor- ror rose before my mind. If I, a man, were rash enough to discourse to Crinoline, what a hail of scornful words should I bring down on my head ! I therefore bethought me of a device, and rushing off laid all my plan before a lady, of whose judgment in these matters I had the high- est opinion, and besought her to assist me. To this ex- PREFACE. 19 cellent and charming person I have now the pleasure to introduce you, that she may speak for herself as to the share she has taken in this work. If this little book should really improve you, my dear reader, I beg you to take an early opportunity of walking, riding, or driving down this street, and you will soon see from my look an^ emile how great is the satisfaction of THE MAN IN THE CLUB- WINDOW. THE LADY'S PREFACE. THOSE suggestions which apply peculiarly to the gentler portion of the community differ, in many details, from the advice and rules necessary to be impressed upon the Lords of Creation. " The Habits of Good Society," as referring to ladies, are here, therefore, treated by "one of themselves.' 3 It is true that certain maxims of politeness, and regu- lations which are thought to refine and improve the man- ners of good society, concern both sexes equally. There are, nevertheless, many niceties in conduct, variations in habits, and delicacies of feeling so peculiarly feminine, that the readiest pen of the most observant bachelor, how alive soever he may be to all that should form perfection in the sex whom he adores in dim perspective, can scarce- ly compass. Even the -carefully-turned sentences of an experienced widower would not comprise those details with which a lady is familiar ; whilst a married man might be apt to make his model wife the standard of deportment, and thus to copy one style of manners alone. Men may discriminate and criticise, but woman can alone instruct woman in her every-day habits and conduct, as, we trust may be demonstrated in the course of the following recommendations from A MATRON. THE HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY. THOUGHTS. ON SOCIETY, AND THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. A SERMON and a book of etiquette have been 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 our parents preach their lay sermons upon 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, they at least turn them out gentlemen. Nay, we keep a grand state official, with a high salary, for no other purposes than to preserve the formal etiquette of the Court, and to issue from time to time a series of occasional services in (23) 24 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. which the minutest laws of courtly behavior are codified with majestic solemnity. Yet with all this and much more deference which we show now to manners in general, now to the arbitrary laws of etiquette which seem to have no object but exclusive- ness, we are always ready to raise a titter at the attempt 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 wider and wider, admitting repeatedly and more than ever, men who have risen from the cottage or the workshop, and have had neither their training nor their experience. What if railway kings and mushroom millionaires had studied their grammars and manner-books in the respites from business, would the noble lords, who, with their wives and daughters, condescended, nay, were proud, to dine with the quondam shop-boy and mechanic, have thus been sneered at by the middle classes for a worship of gold r which could induce them to put up with gross vulgarity, and for a respect for success which could allow the great- est sticklers for etiquette to endure its repeated neglect? Surely it is in the interest of future premiers and noble members of council, that John Smith should know how to behave before they visit him ; and how can he possibly learn it without either a tutor, a book, or experience in society ? The first is undoubtedly the best medium ; and we con- stantly find the sons of mannerless millionaires tutored into the habits of good society, but at the same time it ia a course which demands youth, time, and the absence of business occupations ; but everybody, at first sight, agrees THE CHAPLAIN AND THE NUNCIO. 25 that experience in society is the only good way to acquire the polish it demands. True, maybe ; but if it demands that polish in you, how will it take you without it ? How can you obtain the entree into good society, when, on the very threshold, you are found deficient in its first rules ? How, if you succeed in pushing your way into sets which you believe to constitute good society, can you be sure that they will tolerate you there till you have learned your lesson, which is not one to be known in a day ? Your failure, indeed, may be painful, and end in your ejectment for ever from the circles you have taken so much trouble to press into. I remember an instance of such a failure which occur- red many years ago, in a distant European capital. The English residents had long been without a chaplain, and the arrival of an English clergyman was hailed with such enthusiasm, that a deputation at once attended on him and offered him the post, which he accepted. We soon found that our course was a mistaken one. Slovenly in hia dress, dirty in his habits, and quite ignorant of the com- monest rules of politeness, our new chaplain would have brought little credit to the English hierarchy even had his manners been retiring and unobtrusive. They were pre- cisely the reverse. By dint of cringing, flattery, and a readiness to serve in no matter what undertaking, he push- ed himself, by virtue of his new position, into some of the highest circles. One evening it happened that the new chaplain and the Pope's nuncio were both at the same evening party. The pontifical legate went out but little, and the lady of the house had used great exertions to procure his presence. The contrast between the repre- sentatives of the two Churches was trying for us. 26 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OT3SERVANCES. cardinal, grave, dignified, and courtly, received the ad vances of those who were introduced to him as his due. The chaplain, in a frayed and dirty shirt, with holes in his "boots and ill-combed hair, was sneaking up to the grandees and doing his best to gain their attention by smiles and flatteVy. He had heard somewhere that no in- troductions were needed in Continental salons, and you can imagine our surprise when we saw him slide sideways up to the red-stockinged nuncio, tap him familiarly on the shoulder, and with a full grin exclaim, " Well, my Lord, how did you leave the Pope ?" The cardinal bowed and smiled, but could not conceal his astonishment. The fa- miliarity was not indeed a crime, but it proved that the offender was not fit for the society into which he had pushed himself ; and the legate, glad to have a story against the Protestants, made the most of it, and repeat- ed it until the new chaplain found his entree to the drawing-rooms of the great was generally cancelled. Useful or not useful, it would seem that codes of man- ners are thought ridiculous. If the farce-writer wants to introduce a thoroughly credulous country girl, he makes her carry a little book of etiquette under her fan into the Lall-room ; and if the heavy-headed essayists of a Quar- terly want a light subject to relieve the tedium of their trimestrial lucubrations, it is almost sure to be the vade tnecums of etiquette which come in for their satire. Poor indeed, and reduced in honor as well as capital, must be the man of letters, they tell you, who will condescend to write on the angle of a bow, or the punctilio of an insult ; forgetting that these are but some of the details which go to make an important whole, and that we might as hon- estly sneer at the antiquarian who revels in a dirty coin THE HIGHEST AUTHORITIES ON THE SUBJECT. 27 of the size of a farthing, or the geologist who fills his pockets with chips of ugly stone. However, the sneer is raised, and it is our duty' to speak of it. There remain, then, three reasons for holding works of this sort in disrepute: either manners themselves are contemptible, or they are not a subject worthy of the consideration of the wise and great ; or the books of eti- quette themselves are ridiculous in their treatment of the subject. The value of manners is to be the main theme of this introduction ; as regards their value as a subject, I can only point to those who have discoursed or written upon them, aad 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 so. Our Saviour himself has taught us that modesty is the true spirit of decent behavior, and was not ashamed to notice and rebuke the forward manners of his fellow guests in taking the upper seats at banquets, while he has chosen the etiquettes of marriage as illustrations in seve- ral of his parables. Even in speaking of the scrupulous habits of the Pharisees, he did not condemn their cleanli- ness itself, but the folly which attached so much v&lue to mere form. lie conformed himself to those habits, and in the washing of feet at meals, drew a practical leason of beautiful humility. His greatest follower has left us many injunctions to gentleness and courteousness of man- ner, and fine passages on women's dress, which should be painted over every lady's toilet table in the kingdom. As to the philosophers, who are anything but mca of ' pood manners themselves, there are few who have no! 28 TUB SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. taught behavior more or less. To say nothing of the ugly but agreeable old gentleman, Socrates, who went about the city asking as many questions as a counsel for the defendant in a case of circumstantial evidence, we have his pupil's pupil Aristotle, whose ethics the Oxford boys are taught to look upon as next in wisdom to the Bible, and truer than any similar work. We are con- vinced that the greater part of the ethics might be turned into a " Guide to the Complete Gentleman.' 7 In fact the Stagyrite's morals are social ones ; the morals that fit a man to shine in the ayora and the academy. He has raised the peculiar behavior of the xaUg x&yados tivriQ alias "gentleman" to his equals, betters, and inferiors, into one of the cardinal virtues, and has given us, besides, several chapters on wit and conversation, in- timacies, and the proper carriage of a good citizen in society. But to look nearer home, Lord Bacon himself has de- voted an essay to manners, and reminds us that as a pre- cious stone must be of very high value to do without a setting, a man must be a very great one to dispense with social observances; and probably Johnson thought him- self one of these unset gems, when he made such speech- es as, " Sir, you're a fool ;" or at Aberdeen, " Yes, sir, Scotland is what I expected ; I expected a savage coun- try, and savage people, and I have found them." But why multiply instances ? If we look to the satirist of all ages, we find that manners as well as morals came under their lash, and many taught by ridicule what wa do by precept. Horace, the Spectator, and Thackeray expose the vulgarities and affectations of society; and the finest wit of his day. Chesterfield, is the patron saint of the writers on Behavior. FALSE MOTIVES FOR POLITENESS. 29 We have, therefore, no lack of precedent ; but it is cer- tainly true that too often the office of a teacher of manners has been assumed by retired Turveydrcps, and genteel nasters of ceremonies, and the laugh that is raised at their hints on propriety is not always without excuse. It would be very bad manners in me to criticise the works of former writers on this subject, and thus put forward my own as the ne jjlus ultra of perfection. I confess, indeed, that T can never aspire to the delicacy and apparently universal acquirements of some of these genteel persons. If I can tell you how to entertain your gue:ts, I cannot furnish a list of cartes for dinners, like the author of the Art of Dining. If I can tell you how to dance with propriety, I must despair of describing the Terpsichorean inventions of a D'Egville or a Delplanque, or of giving directions for the intricate evolutions of one hundred and one dances, of v hich in the present day not a dozen are ever performed. I may, however, be permitted to point out that too many of my predecessors have acted on a wrong principle. I have before me at least a dozen books treating of etiquette of different dates, and I find that one and all, including Chesterfield, state the motive for politeness to be either the desire to shine, or the wish to raise one's self into society supposed to be better than one's own. One of the best begins by defining Etiquette as " a shield against the intrusion of the impertinent, the improper, and the vul- gar ;" another tells us that the circles which protect th em- elves with this shield must be the object of our attack, and that a knowledge of etiquette will secure us the vic- tory ; others of higher character confound good with high society, and as a matter of course declare birth, rank, or distinction as its first requisites. All of them make if 30 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. appear that the cultivation of manners is not a social duty, but merely a means to the gratification of personal vanity, and on this account they must all appear ridiculous to the man of sense. Good society is undoubtedly a most desirable accompa- niment of the business of life, and with some people it even takes the place of that business itself; but if the reader imagines that he is to put his book of etiquette into his pocket, and, quitting his old friends and acquaintance with disgust, to push himself into sets for which perhaps his position itself does not qualify him, he is much mistaken as to the object of cultivating the habits of good society. His proper objects are these : to make himself better in every respect than he is ; to render himself agreeable to every one with whom he has to do ; and to improve, if necessary, the society in which he is placed. . If he can do this, he will not want good society long. It is in the power of every man to create it for himself. An agreeable and polished person attracts like light, and every kind of society which is worth entering will soon and easily open its doors to him, and be glad to have him in its circle. Exclusive- ness is often a proof of innate vulgarity, and the tests applied by the exclusive are generally position, birth, name, or peculiarity, rarely indeed individual merit. AVherever these limitations are drawn, you may be confident of a deficiency in the drawers. My Lady A . who will have no one under the rank of baronet at her house, can scarcely appreciate the wide diffusion of wit and intelli;.ronce among the untitled. Mr. B , who invites none bat literary men to his, must be incapable of enjoying the accomplishments and general knowledge of men of the world. And then, too, it is so easy to In exclusive, if you are content to be EXCLUSIVE SETS. 31 dull. My University tailor had a daughter, whose Jower he announced as 30,000, and he gave out that none but a gold-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 gentleman-commoners were admitted, but still the maiden was unwooed. In another three years the suffrage was 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 so 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 recommendations 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 to be found in most watering-places. A decrepit old lady or gentleman, long retired from fashionable and public life, is always to be found in these localities. Surrounded by a email 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 lord" and " my lady" are hailed aa splendid wit, or their petulant tempers endured with affec- tionate 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 put oar for- bearance to a perpetual tr;al, call forth our broadest 32 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. -v charity, and train us at the whist-table to lose our guineas, and not our temper ! Exclusive society, whether the passport for admittance be of rank, birth, wealth, fashion, or even more meritorious distinctions, is not often agreeable society, and not neces- sarily good. The question at once arises : What is good society ? and we proceed to answer it, beginning with an attempt to define society itself. When the ex-King Ludwig of Bavaria stops, as we have seen him do, to exchange a hearty word with a crossing- sweeper, one of a class which the misnamed " First Ger- deman of Europe," while 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 his gamekeeper as they come from the fields together, he will, perhaps tell you that he has enjoyed the honest fellow's tl 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 does 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 should rank above the employed, and the transaction ci business suspends equality for a time. There is no society between a gentleman and his solicitor or physician, in an official visit, and though both hold the same rank, the pro- fessional man would never, unless further advances were WHAT IS SOCIETY? 83 made, 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 than this. The two thoroughly English gentlemen who, trav elling 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 one treads upon the other's favorite bunion, cannot, in the widest sense of the phrase, be said to enjoy each other's society. 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- mannered 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 into action. Indeed we hear people talk of round games being so- ciable, and it is certain that in most of those which are played in a drawing-room, the mind is made to work aa well as the fingers ; but while such games undoubtedly excite sociability with people too shy or too stupid to talk, and be at ease without their assistance, we must beware of 2* S4 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. confoundmg them with sociability itself. The mutual ea- tertainment of the mind must be immediate in society. In chess and even in whist, the mental working is -keen, and the action is decidedly mutual, if we may riot rather say antagonistic, but no one would think of saying that he had enjoyed Mr. Morphy's society, because he was one of his eight Opponents in a chess tournament, and none but doting dowagers would presume to talk of the " society" of the whist-table. The intercourse must be direct from mind to mind. Social intercourse is in fact, the consequence of a neces- sity felt by men and women for new channels of thought, and new impulses of feeling. We read books, and we go to the play for the very same purpose ; but that which constitutes the superior charm of society over these relax- ations is its variety and uncertainty. The guest could never have sat through the Barmecide's feast, if he had not ex- pected that each succeeding cover would reveal a dainty mtremcts to make up for the shadowy character of the joints and hors d'oeuvres, and not even an old maid of fifty could continue to attend those dreary evening parties at the vicar's, or those solemn dinners at the hall, if she did not look forward to meeting some new guest, or at least having some new idea struck into her. I have always doubted whether Boswell had not as great mental capacities of their kind as Johnson. It requires ei:her a profound mind or a cold heart to feel no necessity for social intercourse. Bozzy had not the latter. Had he the former? As the great mind can content itself with its own reflections, stimulated at most by the printed thoughts of others, so it carries in itself its power of vary- ing what it takes in, and scorns to look for variety from MENTAL INTERCOURSE NECESSARY. 85 without. Most deep thinkers have had one pet book, which they have read, one bosom-friend whom they have studied, in a thousand different lights according to the variety which their own nervous mind would suggest. Had Boswell been an ordinary man, would he not have wearied of the Doc- tor's perpetual sameness, of his set answers and anticipated rebuffs ? Lovers weary of one another's minds, and the cleverest people are incapable of enduring a tete-d-tete t for three weeks at a time, and was Boswell more than a lover ? ** Lean not on one mind constantly, Lest where one stood before, two fall. Something God hath to say to thce Worth hearing from the lips of all."* And it is this feeling which impels men of good sense and ordinary minds to seek acquaintance as well as friends, which makes me happy to talk sometimes to the plough- man coming from the field, to the policeman hanging about his beat, even to the thief whose hand I have caught in my pocket. Could I have a professional pickpocket in my grasp and not seize the rare opportunity of discovering what view a thief takes of life, of right and wrong, honor, even manners and the habits of good society ? You may be sure he has something to tell me on all these points, and for a while I might profit from even his society ; though, as equality is necessary, I should for the time have to let myself down to his level, which is scarcely desirable. I have said that there are some minds, universal enough in themselves to feel no need of society. To such, solitude is society of thought. To such the prison-cell is but * Owen Meredith. 36 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. little trial. Raleigh was as great in the Tower as out of it, and Michael Angelo desired only to sit for days gazing upon, ay, and communing, with the grand men and won- drous scenes which he found in his own brain. Other minds again are content with a little society, but it is the weakest class that can never do without it. It will not be difficult to show that the wits and beaux who have lived for society only, were men whom no one need aspire to rival. I draw this distinction in order that hereafter I may speak more freely of conversation in general society ; but it must not be thought, by a converse conclusion, that every common frequenter of society is but a poor-minded being. Socrates and Shakspere, who lived continually with their fellow-creatures, would not thank you for such an inference, and the cleverest men are often the most sociable ; though, as La Rochefoucault says " In conversation confidence has a greater share than wit." Chesterfield says, " there are two sorts of good company; one which is called the beau-monde, and consists of those people who have the lead in courts, and in the gay part of life ; the other consists of those who are distinguished by some peculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art or science." If this were not the opinion of my patron saint, I should maintain that the writer knew not what good company was. But in truth in the days of Philip Dormer Stanhope there was little option but be tween wealth, rank, and fashion, on the one hand, and wi and learning on the other ; and his Lordship cannot be blamed for writing thus in the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the middle classes had not learnt manners, if a century later Mr. Hay ward, who undertaker ' o write BAD MORALS AND BAD SOCIETY. 37 down books of etiquette, tells us that " rank, wealth, and distinction of some sort," are the elements of success in society. If the opinion of a man who for twelve years labored to make a graceful gentleman of his son, and, though he failed to do so, certainly thought and wrote more on tho manners of good society than any man before and since, is not to be taken as a maxim, I must be allowed some hesi- tation in putting forward a definition. As Chesterfield himself says, bad company is much more easily defined than good. Let us begin with the bad, then, and see to what it brings us. Beau Brummel broke off an engagement with a young lady because he once saw her eat cabbage. " Over-nico people," says Dean Swift, " have sometimes very nasty ideas." But George the Less evidently thought the young lady in question was very bad company. To de- fine exactly where bad manners begin is not easy, but there is no doubt that no society is good in which they are found ; and this book will have been written in vain, if the reader after studying it is unable to distinguish be- tween bad and good behavior. In the present day neither Brummel nor his " at friend,'' the " greatest gentleman in Europe," would be tolerated in good society. The code of morals is clearly written, whatever may be the traditionary code of manners, and we may at once lay down as a rule, that where morals are openly bad, society must be bad. The badness of morals is soon detected. We may indeed meet in a London ball room a score of young men, whose manners are as spotless as their shirt- fronts, and fail to discover from their carriage and con- versation that one requires assistance to undress every 88 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. third night, another is supported by Hebrews in gambling away his reversionary property, and a third, without Shelley's genius, shares his opinions as to the uselessnesa of matrimonial vows. But let us pursue their acquaint- ance, and we shall soon learn from the tone of their con- versation what is the tenor of their lives. x- Bad society, then, may be divided into three classes ! 1. That in which both morals and manners are bad ; 2. 1 That in which the manners are bad, be the morals what they will ; 3. That in which the manners appear to be good, but the morals are detestable. The first is low, I the second vulgar, the third dangerous society. Few people but undergraduates, young ensigns, and aspiring clerks and shop-boys, will need to be warned against low society. Where vice .wears no veil, and de- cency forever blushes, the man of any self-respect, to say nothing of taste and education, will speedily be disgusted. ["The first proof of lowness is seen at once in undue fa- miliarity. If there ar .' v.omen in company, you will at once discover their character from the manner in which they allow themselves to be addressed ; but if not, you will doubtless ere long be yourself subjected to a freedom of treatment, which you will readily distinguish from ease of manner, and know to be beyond the proper limits. Familiarity, on first introduction, is always of bad style, often even vulgar, and, when used by the openly immor- al, is low and revolting. A man of self respect will not be pleased with it even when it comes from the most re- spectable, or his superiors ; he will despise it in his equals, and will take it almost as an insult from those who dc not respect themselves. If Brummel really had the impudence to say to his patron prince, ' : Wales INSTANCES OF FAMILIARITY. 89 ring the bell ! " we cannot blame the corpulent George for ordering the Beau's carriage when the servant appear- ed. We can only wonder that he did not take warning by his favorite's presumption to separate himself from the rest of his debauched hangers-on, when he found that respect for the Prince was swamped in contempt for the profligate. This is a good opportunity for introducing a few words en the subject of familiarity, which, writing as an English- man, we may at once lay down as incompatible with good society. " You are a race of pokers !" say the French. "You are a race of puppies !" replies the inassailable Englishman ; and certainly there is nothing more sublime- ly ridiculous than the British lion shaking his mane and muttering a growl when the Continental poodle asks him, in a friendly manner, to shake his paw. Dignity has its limits as well as ease, and dignity is extravagant in Spain, and often melodramatic in England. Charles I. never laughed, and his cotemporary, Philip of Spain, never smiled. But it must not be supposed that the En- glish have always been as dignified as the modern towera bristling with cannon, and bearing the motto, " Noli me tangere," who are seen moving in Pall-Mail in the after- noon. Stiffness perhaps came in with BrummelFs starched cravat, a yard in height, which took him a quarter of an hour to crease down to that of his neck. In the reigns of the Tudors. familiarity was the order of the day at the Court. There was nothing shocking in Bluff Harry stretching his huge gouty leg upon Catharine Parr's lap and Queen Elizabeth thought herself only witty when to Sir Roger Williams, presenting a petition which she dis- liked, she exclaimed, " Williams, how your boot? stink I" 40 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. " Tut, madame," replied the Welshman, " it is my suit, not my boots which stink." In Ben Jonson's day it was the height of gallantry to chuck a lady under the chin, and make a not very refined compliment to her rosy lips. Even the cavaliers of Charles' court had a freedom of speech and manner which disgusted the puritans ; and, if Milton's report be true, the sovereign that never laughed saw no harm in making indelicate remarks before, if nofc to, the Queen's ladies. But the most curious instance? of familiarity, mistaken for wit, are to be found in the reigns of William in. and Anne. When Bath was the most fashionable spot in the kingdom, and Beau Nash the most fashionable man in Bath, the following speeches, in- terlarded with oaths, were his most fashionable mots : A lady afflicted with a curvature of the spine, once told him that she had that day come straight from London " Straight, madame ! " replied the magnificent master of the ceremonies, "then you've been horribly warped by the way." When, on an another occasion, a gentleman appeared at an assembly in boots, which Nash had inter- dicted, he called out to him, "Hollo! Hogs Norton, haven't you forgot to bring your horse?" He was well put down, however, by a young lady, whom he once met walking with a spaniel behind her. " Please, madame," asked the Beau, " can you tell me the name of Tobit's dog? " " Yes, sir," answered the damsel ; "his name is Nash, and a very impudent dog he is, too." Familiarity arises either from an excess of friendliness or a deficiency of respect, The latter is never pardonable. We cannot consider that man well-bred who shows nc respect for the position, feelings, or even prejudices of others. The youth who addresses his father as "govern- INSPECT TO THB SEX 41 or," or " come now, paymaster," is almost as blamable as the man who stares at my club-foot, or, because I have a very dark complexion, asks me at first sight when I left India. Still more reprehensible should I be if I exclaim- ed to a stout lady, " How warm you look !" asked Mr. . Spurgeon if he had been to many balls lately ; inquired after the wife and family of a Romish priest, or begged the Dean of Carlisle to tell me the odds on the Derby. Worse, again, is the familiarity which arises from na- tural coarseness, and which becomes most prominent :n the society of elderly men, or where ladies are present. The demeanor of youth to age should always be respect- ^ ful; that of man to woman should approach even reverence, " To thee be all men heroes; every race Noble ; all women virgins ; and each place A temple." And certainly it is better and more comfortable to believe in the worth of all, than by contempt and boldness to leave the impression of impudence and impropriety. It should be the boast of every man that he had never put modesty to the blush, nor encouraged immodesty to remove her mask. But we fear there is far too little chivalry in the present day. If young men do not chuck their partner3 under the chin, they are often guilty of pressing their hands when the dance affords an opportunity. There is a calm dignity with which to show that the offence has been noticed, but if a lady condescends to reprove it in words, she forces the culprit to defend himself, and often ends by making the breach worse. On the other hand, let a woman once overlook the slightest familiarity, and fail to show her surprise in her manner, and she can never be certain that 42 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. it will not be repeated. There are few actions so atroci- ously familiar as a wink. I would rather kiss a lady outright tian wink or leer at her, for that silent movement seems to imply a secret understanding which may be in- terpreted in any way you like. Even between men a wink should be avoided, however intimate the terms between you, since it seems to keep the rest of the company in the dark and is perhaps worse than whispering. We often hear people complain of the necessity of " company manners." As a general rule such people must be by nature coarse. A well-bred man has always the same manners at home and in society, and what is bad in the former, is only worse in the latter. It can never be pardonable to swagger and lounge, nor to carry into even the family circle the actions proper to the dressing-room. Even where familiarity has nothing shocking in itself, it attacks the respect due to the society of others, whoever they may be, and presents the danger of a further breach of it. From familiarity to indecency is but one step. " Thus no part of the dress, not a shoe-string even, should be arranged in the presence of ladies. The Hindus, re- markable for the delicacy of their manners, would not allow kissing, scratching, pinching, or lying down to be repre- sented on the stage, and at least the last three should never be permitted in a mixed society of men and women. There are attitudes too, which are a transition from ease to famil- iarity, and should never be indulged. A man may cross his legs in the present day, but should never stretch them apart. To wipe the forehead, gape, yawn, and so forth, are only a shade less obnoxious than the American habit of expec- toration. I shall have more to say on this subject, and must now pass to another. SHYNESS. 43 Familiarity must be condemned or pardoned according to the motive that suggests it. Not unfrequently it arises from over-friendliness or even shyness, and must then be gently and kindly repressed. As for shyness, which is par excellence the great obstacle to ease in English society, 1, for my part, think it infinitely preferable to forwardness. It calls forth our kindest and best feelings, utterly disarms the least considerate of us, and somewhat endears us to the sufferer. Yet so completely is it at variance with the spirit of society, that in France it is looked on as a sin ; and children are brought forward as much as possible that they may early get rid of it, the consequence of which is, that a French boy from his college is one of the most ob- noxious of his race, while you cannot help feeling that the extreme diffidence of the debutante is merely assumed in obedience to cJure maman. Give me a boy that blushes when you speak to him, and a girl under seventeen, who looks down because she dares not look up. On the other hand, shyness is trying and troublesome in young people of full age, though a little of it is always becoming on first acquaintance ; while in middle-aged people it is scarce- ly pardonable. To the young, therefore, who are entering into society I would say, Never be ashamed of your shyness, since, however painful it may be to you, it is far less disagreeable to others than the attempt to conceal it by familiarity. The only way to treat familiarity arising from shyness is not to notice it, but encourage the offender till you have given him or her confidence. It is a kindness as much to yourself as to the sufferer from shyness, to intro- duce merry subjects, to let fly a little friendly badinage*' at him, until he thinks that you are deceived by his assumed 44 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. manner, and no longer afraid of being thought nervous, really gets rid of the chief cause of that feeling. When Brummell was asked by a lady whom he scarcely knew, to come and " take tea" with her, the Beau replied, " Madame, you take a walk, and you take a liberty, but you drink tea." It was only one of those many speeches of the Beau's, which prove that a man may devote his whole life to the study of manner and appearance, and, without good feeling to back them up, not be a gentleman The lady undoubtedly did take a liberty, but the would-be gentleman took a greater in correcting her idiom. The lady erred from a silly admiration of the ex-model of fashion ; the broken beau erred from excessive conceit, and an utter want of heart. Let the reader judge between the two. If the object of politeness is to insure harmony to society, and set every one at his ease, it is as necessary to good manners to receive a well-meant familiarity in a like spirit, as it is to check one which arises from coarseness. On the Continent, where diffidence is unknown, and to be friendly is the first object, we find a freedom of manners which in England we should call familiarity. Let a man be of no matter what station, he has there a right to speak to his fellow-man, if good him seems, and certainly the barrier which we English raise up between classes savors very little of Christianity. What hartn can it do me, who call my self -gentleman, if a horny-handed workman, waiting for the same train as myself, comes up and says, " It is a fine day, sir," evincing a desire for a further interchange of ideas ; am I the more a gentleman because I cut him short with a "Yes," and turn away; or because, as many people do, I stare him rudely in the face, and vouchsafe no answer? "Something God hath to say to thee worth TAKING A LIBERTY. 45 hearing from the lips of all," and I may be sure that I shall learn something from him, if I talk to him in a friendly manner, which, if I am really a gentleman, hia socie y can do me no harm. But of course there is a limit to he fixed. Englishmen respect nothing so much as their purses and their private affairs, and in England you might as well ask a stranger for five pounds as inquire what he was travelling for, what his income was, or what were the names of his six children. But England is an exception in this case, and a foreigner believes that he does himself no harm by telling you his family history at first sight. While, therefore, it is a gross impertinence in this country to put curious questions to a person of whom you know little, while it is reserved for the closest intimacy to inquire as to private means and per- sonal motives, it is equally ridiculous in an Englishman abroad to take offence at such questions, and consider as an impertinence what is only meant as a friendly advance to nearer acquaintance. I certainly cannot understand why an honest man should determine to make a secret of his position, profession, and resources, unless it be from a false pride, and a desire to be thought richer and better than he is ; but as these subjects are respected in this country, I should be guilty of great ill-breeding if I sought to re- move his secrecy. I shall never forget the look of horror and astonishment I once saw on the face of an English lady talking to a foreign ambassadress. The latter, thoroughly well-bred, according to native ideas, had admired the former's dress, and touching one of the silk flounces delicately enough, she inquired, "How much did it cost a yard?" Such questions are common enough on the Continent, and our 46 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. i eiglibors sec no harm in them. And why should we dc so? Is it anyway detrimental to us to tell how much we paid for our clothes? Yet, such is the false pride of English people on matters connected, however slightly, with money, that even to mention that most necessary article is considered as bad breeding in this country. We must respect the prejudice, though, in fact, it is a vulgar one. The next kind of bad society is the vulgar, in which the morals may be good, but the manners are undoubtedly bad. What bad manners are in detail, will be shown in the course of this work ; but I shall now take as the distinguishing test of this kind of society a general vulgarity of conduct. Until the end of the last century, the word vulgarity was confined to the low, mean, and essentially plebeian. It would be well if we could so limit it in the present day, but the great mixture of classes and the elevation of wealth, have thrust vulgarity even into the circles of good society, where, like a black sheep in a white flock, you may sometimes find a thoroughly vulgar man or woman recom- mended by little but their wealth, or a position gained by certain popular qualifications. Where the majority of the company are decidedly vulgar, the society may be set down as bad. Apart from coarseness and familiarity, vulgarity may be defined as pretension of some kind. This is shown promi- nently in a display of wealth. I remember being taken to dine at the house of a French corn-merchant, who had realized an enormous fortune. It was almost a family party, for there were only three strangers including myself. The manners of every one present were irreproachable, and the dinner excellent, but it was seized on gold plate. Such a display was unnecessary, inconsistent, and therefore THE VULGARITY OF DISPLAY. 47 vu gar. A display of dress in ladies comes under the same head and will be easily detected by inappropriateness. The lady who walks in the streets in a showy dress suitable only to a fete ; who comes to a quiet social gathering with a profusion of costly jewelry; the man who electrifies a country village with the fashionable attire of Rotten Row or reminds you of his guineas by a display of unnecessary jewels ; the people, in short, who are always over-drest for the occasion, may be set down as vulgar. Too much state is a vulgarity not always confined to wealth, and when a late nobleman visiting a simple commoner at his country house, brought with him a valet 7 coachman, three grooms, two men servants, a carriage, and half-a-dozen horses, he was guilty of as gross vulgarity as Solomon Moses or Abiathar Nathan, who adorns his fat stumpy fingers with three rings a piece. So completely indeed is modesty the true spirit of good breeding, that any kind of display in poor or rich, high or low, savors of vulgarity ; and the man who makes too much of his peculiar excellencies, who attempts to engross conversation with the one topic he is strong in, who having travelled is alway t telling you " what they do on the Continent;" who being a scholar, overwhelms you with Menander or Manetho, who, having a lively wit, showers down on the whole company a per- petual hail of his own bon mots, and laughs at them him- self, who, gifted with a fine voice, monopolizes the piano the whole evening, who, having distinguished himself in the Crimea, perpetually leads back the conversation to the theme of war, and rattles away on his own achievements^ who, having written a book, interlards his talk with, " As I say in my novel," &c., who being a fine rider, shows his horse off in a score of difficult manoeuvres, as Louis Napoleon 48 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. did at the Egremont tournament, though not asked to taka part in the lists, who goes to a party with all the medals and clasps he has perhaps most honorably earned, or who, being a great man in any line, puts himself prominently forward, condescends, talks loud, or asserts his privileges,, is a vulgar man, be he king, kaiser, or cobbler. But there is a form of vulgarity found as much in those of small as those of large means, and known by the name of " gentility." I know a man who keeps a poor little worn-out pony-phaeton, and always speaks of it as "my carriage," taking care to bring it in whenever possible. My friend Mrs. Jones dines at one o'clock, but invariably calls it her " lunch." The Rev. Mr. Smith cannot afford the first-class on a railway, but is too genteel to go in the second. Excellent man ! he tells me and I am bound to believe it that he positively prefers the third class to the first. " Those first-class carriages are so stuffy," he says, " and in the second one meets such people, it is really un- bearable," but he does not let me know that in the third he will have to sit next to an odoriferous ploughboy, get his knees crashed by a good woman's huge market-basket, and catch cold from a draught passing through the ill- adjusted windows. There is no earthly reason why he should not travel in what carriage he likes, but the vulgar- ity consists in being ashamed of his poverty, and tacitly pretending to be better off than he is. Brown, again calls his father's nutshell of a cottage " our country seat," and Mrs. Brown speaks of the diminutive buttons as the " man- servant." My tailor has his crest embossed on his nate- paper ; Bobinson, the successful stock-broker, covers the pannels of his carriage with armorial bearings as large as dishes ; Tomkins, ashamed of his father's name, signs him- PRETENSION. 49 self Tomkyns ; and Mrs. Williams, when I call always discourses .m English history that she may bring in John of Gaunt, "an ancestor of ours, you know." Nor is gentility confined to a pretension to more wealth, letter biith, or greater state than we possess. The com- monest form of it, found unfortunately in all classes, is the pretens* m to a higher position than we occupy. The John- sons, retired haberdashers, cannot visit the Jacksons, re- tired b aen-drapers, but have moved heaven and earth for an introduction to the Jamesons, who are n^ot retired from anything. The Jamesons receive the Johnsons, but stiffly annihilate them at once by talking of u 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, and call the leader of his own party " that fellow so-and- so." The viscount is condescendingly gracious to the commoner, but deferential to the duke, and the duke him- self will be as merry as old King Cole, if ." the blood" should happen to notice him more than usual. Alas ! 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 vulgar in r eally good society, than the repeated introduc- tion of the names of the nobility, or even of distinguished personages in reference to yourself. It is absurd to sup- pose that you can reflect the light of these greater orbs ; on the contrary, your mention of them naturally suggests a comparison, such as one make between the unpretending 3 50 THE SriRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. glorious sun, and the pale pitiable moon, when she quita her proper sphere and forces herself into broad daylight. When Scribbles of the Seal and Tape Office tells us ho was flirting last night with Lady Adelaide, when the Duke of came up, and " shook hands with me, 'pon honor he did," I am tempted to think Scribbles either a gross exaggerator, or a- grosser snob. When worthy Mrs. 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 taketi 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, (r " flunkies," as they are now called, is one which has flourished through all time, and the satire of all ages hag 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 modern 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 as caste is recognised in this country, I would have re- spect shown from one of a lower to one of a higher class. But this respect for the position must not be blind ; it HOXI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. 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 unworthiness in its holder. We may bow to the nobility of my lord, but we are truculent slaves if we call it nobleness. We may respect with dig- nity the accident of birth and wealth, but if the duke be 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 we 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 far-fetched terms for trousers, and our young ladies faint or try to at the mention of a petti- coat, Honi soit qui Trial y pense ; and shame indeed to 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 f consists and where it begins, but it is clear that nature has intended some things to be hidden ; and civilization, re- moving farther and farther from nature, yet not going against it, has added many more. In this respect, civili- zation has become a second nature, and what it has once 52 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. concealed cannot be exposed without indelicacy. For in- stance, nothing is more beautiful than the bosom of a woman, and to a pure mind there is nothing shocking, but something touching indeed, in seeing a poor woman who has no bread to give it, suckling her child in public. Still civilization has covered the bosom, and the ladies whi. wear their dresses off their shoulders are, in the present 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 ta super-refinement and vulgarity, 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 couch 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 of these vulgar prudes. Or, again, what more beautiful word than woman? woman, man's ruin first, and since 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 not dear and near to me like " woman." Yet if I speak of you as a woman, you leup 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 yo w, not I, connected some horrid idea with it ; is your mind or mine at fault ? Per- haps the most delightful instance of this indelicate delica- cy of terms was in the case of the elderly spinster of whom I was told the other day who kept poultry, but 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 any name whatever ; if it be not indelicate to mention it, it cannot be so to use its ordinary proper name. If legs are x naughty, let us never speak of them ; if not naughty t why blush to call them legs ? The change of name can- J not change the idea suggested by it. If legs be a naughty idea, then 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 " saprement," 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 words Rotter , Amster , Potz , and Schie , mentally re- serving the final syllable of these names of towns, &c., 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 cer- tainly Pharisaical. The young lady would cut you properly enough for using an oath, will nevertheless cry "bother" when her boot-lace breaks, or what not. But "bother" is only the feminine form of your Saxon expletive, and means in reality just as much. So, too 54 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. your man who would cut his throat sooner than use a bad word, will nevertheless write it " d n," as if everybody did not know what two letters were left out. There ia great hypocrisy about these things. But the worst vulgarity is an assumption of refinement in the choice of language. This is common among ser- vants 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 ffater 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 -Bad case, however, was that of the lovely Princess Alex andrina of Bavaria, who died mad from over-cleanliness It began by extreme scrupulousness. At dinner she would minutely examine her plate, and if she saw the slightest speck on it, would send for another. She would then turn the napkin round and round to examine everj DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 55 corner, and often rise from table because she thought she 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 but masses of dirt. It weighed on her mind, poor thing ! she could not be clean enough, and it drove her to in- sanity. 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- rian, 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 his 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 thinks 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- eelf, if I say more on this point, and so I come to the third class of bad society in which the manners and breeding are perfect, and tne morals bad, which is the most dangerous class there is. Without agreeing at all with the Chartist school in their views of the aristocracy, 56 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. I think it must be acknowledged that this class of bad society is found mostly among the upper circles of soci- ety, and for the simple reason, that except among them vice is 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, which 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 n9 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 its 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 vices, when known to you, assume a fashionable pres- tige and a certain delicacy which seem to deprive them 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 ua to speak of what good society really is. We cannot do this better than by looking first intc SOCIETY UNDER GOOD QUEEN BESS. 57 what is generally taken as good society. I shall, there- fore, glance over the state of society in different ages ID this country, and in the present day on the Continent. The real civilization of England can scarcely be dated earlier than at the Reformation, and even than the tur- bulent state of the country, setting one man's knifo against another, and leaving when bloodshed was shamed back, the same deadly hatred showing itself in open re- proaches and secret attacks, made social gatherings a dif- ficulty, if not an impossibility. Henry VIIL, 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 honor. 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 his thoughts. Among the people was a yot 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 haa been raised, the more influence has the gentleness which arises from her weakness been felt by the other sex. In 3* 58 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. fact, the term " gentleman" only came in when tvomen 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 fore the time of Charles i., the dramatists of the Eliza- bethan age tell us in every page. What must have been the education of the Virgin Queen herself, w T ho was not thought very ill of for allowing Leicestir 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 gross scenes in the masks and plays acted before her, and found often 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 far 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 housewife, 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 promi- nent place in society. There had gradually sprung up 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 fiocked to the large towns, they began to fcrm a large SOCIETY IN THE LAST CENTURY. 59 class apart from the Court, which gradually narrowed ita circle more and more. But good society still meant high society, and Chesterfield was right in recommending his son to seek out rank and wealth, for those who had it not were generally badly educated and worse mannered. There was, however, one class now rising into a separate exist- ence, which the patron of manners has not overlooked. It is to those men of education and mind, who, lacking rank and wealth, were still remarkable for the vivacity of their conversation in short, to the wits that we owe the origin of our modern "middle classes." The Spectator, however, proves what women were at this period. Little educated and with no accomplishments save that of flirting a fan, the more fashionable gave them- selves up to extravagances of dress, and were distinguished for the smartness, not the sense of their conversation. They were still unsuited, perhaps more so than ever, for the companionship of intellectual men, and it was the elegant triflers, like Walpole, rather than men of sound serious minds, who made correspondents of them. The consequence was that the men gathered together in clubs, a species of evening society which, while it fostered wit, destroyed the stage, and made a system of gambling and drinking. The high society was still the best } and it was among the nobility chiefly' that women began to mix in the amusements of the other sex. Balls, too, were no longer an entertainment reserved for Court aod the grandees ; and in the balls at Bath, under Beau Nash, we find the first attempt to mingle the gentry and bourgeoisie, and thus form the nucleus of a middle class. It was now too that mere wealth, which could never have brought ita owner into the Court- circles, or been a sufficient recom- 60 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. mendation to the nobility of the seventeenth century, be- came an authoritative introduction among the gentry. If England is the only European country which has a real middle class, where birth is of no account, it is owing to that law of primogeniture which from very remote times caused the formation of a class known as u gentry'' which has no equivalent in any Continental country. It was this class, which belonging by connexion to the aris- tocracy, belonged by necessity to the bourgeoisie, from whom they were not distinguished by actual rank. From the bourgeoisie, indeed, they kept aloof as long as possi- ble ; but wealth, which could give the gentry a footing among the aristocracy, could only come from the mercan- tile classes, and the rich merchant's daughter who was married to a country gentleman soon succeeded in bring- ing her relations into his set. Towards the end, therefore, of the last century, we find three classes between the Court and the people, namely, the noble, the "gentle," and the rich; in other words, rank, birth, and wealth were the requisites of society. The higher classes were still the best educated; but the wealthy looked to educa- tion to fit them for the circles of the gentry, and women being better educated took a more important place in so- cial arrangements. In this century the^e classes began to draw together. The noble sought wives among the rich ; the rich became gentle in a couple of generations ; and the gentry became rich by marriage. But if a merchant or successful speculator were ad- mitted in higher circles, the professional man, who could go to Court and had always taken precedence of trade, could not be excluded. Hitherto, the liberal professions THE MIDDLE CLASSES. 61 and literature had occupied a kind of dependent position. The clergyman was almost a retainer of the squire's, the lawyer was the landowner's agent, the doctor had his? great patron, and the writer often lived on the money giv- en for fulsome dedications to those noblemen and others who wished to appear in the light of a Maecenas. These distinctions, however, were lost in great cities, and the growth of the population gave to at least three of these professions a public which paid as well as, and exacted less adulation than the oligarchy; not indeed giving less trouble, for we have now a thousand tastes to study in- stead of one, a thousand prejudices to respect ; and if we do not write fulsome dedications to the public, we are no less compelled to insert every here and there that artful flattery which makes John Bull appear in the light of I do not say the best and most noble but the richest, most powerful, most thriving, most honest, most amiably faulty, but magnanimously virtuous of publics. But I am not flattering you, Mr. Bull, when I tell you that in respect of your middle classes you have made a vast step in advance of all other nations. For what does the middle-class mean? Not twenty years ago, it was taken to represent only the better portion of the commer- cial and lower half of professional society. I well re- member with what a sneer some people spoke of a mer- chant, and the gulf that the barrister and physician asserted to exist between them and the lawyer and gene- ral practitioner. And how is it now ? How many gen- tlemen of old family would now decline an introduction tc i well-educated merchant ? How many rather would not recommend their sons to be constant visitors on the mer* chant's wife and daughters ? Is it not the barrister who 62 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. now flatters the attorney, and where is the distinction he tween physician and surgeon ? No ; the middle-class haa an enormous extent now-, and even the landed gentry, when brought to town, mingle freely and gladly with commerce and the professions. In fact, we are more and more widening our range. The nobleman takes a part- nership in a brewery, on the one hand ; on the other, the haberdasher sits in Parliament, and sends his son to Ox- ford. The gentry, throwing over birth as a useless com- modity, rush into commerce and the professions. Dukes and peers are delighted to make money by writing, if they do not confess to writing for money. The merchant is at last received at Court ; the banker is a peer ; the shop-boy who has worked his way to the Woolsack, brings with him a sympathy for shop-boys (perhaps) , which lessens the gulf between tra-de and aristocracy ; and be- holding these and many other wonders, you exclaim with glee : : ' It is an age of unity, caste is obliterated, and in another fifty years even the distinction of a title will be gone, and the middle-class will comprise all who are educated. Softly, softly, my friend ; no Utopias, if you please. Caste may be abolished in name, but it will exist in feel- ing for many an age, though its limitations be not those of rank, birth, and wealth. We used to say at the uni- versity that the larger a college, the smaller its sets, and that you knew more men in a small college than you pos- gibly could in a large one. It is the same with the middle, or as it is now called the educated class. The larger it grows, the more it will split up into classes which may have no name, and may be separated by very slight dis- tinctions, but which will in ^reality, if not in appearance, THE MIDDLE CLASSED 6d be as far apart in feeling as the old castes were in every respect. In short, "good society" has substituted for the old distinctions of rank, birth, wealth, and intellectual pre- eminence, one less distinct in appearance, far more subtle, but far more difficult to attain. Indeed, rank and birth were gifts, wealth often came by inheritance, and a man might be born a wit or a genius, but that which has taken their place as a test can be acquired only by education, ^ careful study, and observation, followed up by practice. It goes by the name of "breeding," and when people talk to you of innate good breeding, they speak of an impos- sibility. Some of its necessary qualities may be innate, and these may show themselves on occasions, and be mis- taken for good-breeding itself, but a further acquaintance may reveal the possessor in a different light. Good-breed- ing is only acquired, being taught us by our nurses, our parents, our tutors, our school-fellows, our friends, our enemies still more, and our experience everywhere ; and yet not one of these teachers may possess it themselves ; many, as nurses and school-fellows, certainly do not. It is breed- ing which now divides the one class you claim to exist, into so many classes, all of which are educated. One set has no breeding at all, another has a little, another more, another enough, and another too much for this also is possible and between that which has none, and that which has enough, there are more shades than in the rainbow. / We can now therefore speak of the principal requisites of good society, of which good-breeding that is, enough and not too much of it is the first. I have shown that, until the development of a middle class, the best society (not in a moral, but general point of view) was to be found among the aristocracy. Hence the word " aristo- \ 64 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. cratic" has come to mean " good for society," and therefore while I premise that the best society is not now high society either by wealth, birth, or distinction, I shall also premise that good society is essentially aristocratic in the sense ID which we speak of aristocratic beauty, aristocratic bearing, aristocratic appearance and manners. The first indispensable requisite for good society is edu- cation. By this I do not mean the so-called " finished education" of a university or a boarding-school. I think it will be found that these establishments put their " finish''' somewhere in the middle of the course ; they may pos- sibly finish you as far as teachers can, but the education which is to fit you for good society must be pursued long after you leave them, as it ought to have been begun long before you went to them. This education should have commenced with developing the mental powers, and espe- cially the comprehension. A man should be able, in order to enter into conversation, to catch rapidly the meaning of anything that is advanced ; for instance, though vou know nothing of science, you should not be obliged to stare and be silent, when a man who does understand it is explaining a new discovery or a new theory ; though you have not read a word of Blackstone. your comprehensive powers should be sufficiently acute to enable you to take in the statement that may be made of a recent cause ; though you may not have read some particular book, you should be capable of appreciating the criticism which you hear of it. Without such a power simple enough and easily attained by attention and practice, yet too seldom met with in general society a conversation which departs from the most ordinary topics cannot be maintained with- out the risk of lapsing into a lecture ; with such a powet CULTIVATION OF TASTE. 65 society becomes instructive as well as amusing, and you have no remorse at an evening's end at having wasted three or four hours in profitless banter or simpering platitudes. This facility of comprehension often startles us in some women, whose education we know to have been poor, and whose reading is limited. If they did not rapidly receive your ideas, they could not therefore be fit companions for mtellectual men, and it is perhaps their consciousness of a deficiency which leads them to pay the more attention to what you say. It is this which makes married women so much more agreeable to men of thought than young ladies, as a rule, can be, for they are accustomed to the society of a husband, and the eifort to be a companion to his mind has engrafted the habit of attention and ready reply. No less important is the cultivation of taste. If it is tiresome and deadening to be with people who cannot un- derstand, and will not even appear to be interested in your better thoughts, it is almost repulsive to find a man, still more a woman, insensible to all beauty, and immovable by rny horror. I remember passing through the galleries of Hampton Court with a lady of this kind in whom I had in vain looked for enthusiasm. ii Ah !" I exclaimed, as we passed into a well-known gallery, " we are come at last to Raphael's cartoons." "Are we?" she asked languidly, as we stood in the presence of those grand conceptions. " Deai me, how high the fountain's playing in the court !" lu the present day an acquaintance with art, even I ' you have no love for it, is a sine qin non of good society. Music and painting are subjects which will be discussed in every direction around you. It is only in bad society that people go to the opera, concerts, and art-exhibition 66 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. merely because it is the fashion, or to say they have been there ; and if you confessed to such a weakness in really good society, you would be justly voted a puppy. For this, too, some book-knowledge is indispensable. You should at least know the names of the more celebrated artists, composers, architects, sculptors, and so forth, and should be able to approximate their several schools. u I have just bought a Hobbema," was said to Mrs. B. the other day. " What shall you put into it ?" said she, hoping to conceal her ignorance. So too, you should know pretty accurately the pronun- ciation of celebrated names, or, if not, take care not to use them. An acquaintance of mine is always talking about pictures, and asks me how I like Cannibal Carra.ri. and GAarlanda^o. It was the same person who, seeing at the bottom of a rare engraving the name " Eaphael Mengs," said in a kind of musing rapture, " Beautiful thing, in- deed, quite in Raphael's earlier style ; you can trace the influence of Perugino in that figure." So, too, it will never do to be ignorant of the names and approximate ages of great composers, especially in London, where music is so highly appreciated and so common a theme. It will be decidedly condemnatory if you talk of the new opera, "Don Giovanni," or Rossini 1 s " Trovatore ;" or are igno- rant who composed " Fidelio." and in what opera occur such common pieces as " Ciascun lo dice," or " II segreto." I do not say that these trifles are indispensable, and when a man has better knowledge to offer, especially with genius, or " cleverness" to back it, he will not only be pardoned for an ignorance of them, but can even take a high tone and profess indifference or contempt of them. But at the same time such ignorance stamps an ordinary man, and CONVERSATION. 67 hinders conversation. On the other hand, tha best society will not endure dilettantism, and whatever the knowledge a man may possess of any art, he must not display it so as to make the ignorance of others painful to them. We are gentlemen, not picture-dealers. But this applies to every topic. To have only one or two subjects to converse 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 mero 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, has 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, again, the reason enables us to support a fancy or opinion, when we are asked why we think so and so. To reply. 11 1 don't know, but p. till I think so," is silly in a man and tedious in a woman. But there is a part of our edu~ cation so important and go neglected in our schools and colleges, that it cannot be too highly impressed on parents 68 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. on the one hand, and young people on the other. I mean that which we learn first of all things, yet often have not learned fully when Death eases us of the necessity tho art 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 my 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 has LANGUAGE 69 not learned to pronounce a letter properly, it is scarcely probable that he will have studied the art of speech at all. It is amusing to hear the ingenious excuses made by people for this neglect. "Mrs. A ," one person tella you, " is a woman of excellent education. You must not be surprised at her dropping her A's, it is a Staffordshire babit, and she has lived all her life in that county." I fancy 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. Nor is the plea of dialect any real excuse. It is a pecu- liarity of Middlesex dialect to put a v for a w, and a w for a v. Would any one on that account present Mr. Samivel Veller as a gentleman of good education, with a slight 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 arid 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. Localism is not patriotism and therefore until the Union is dissolved, we must request people to talk English in English society. The art of expressing one's thoughts neatly and suita- bly is one which, in the neglect of rhetoric as a study, w 70 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. must practice for ourselves. The commonest thought 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 ; the most poetic fancy may be lost to the hearer if the lan- guage which conveys it is obscure. Speech is the gift which distinguishes man from animals, and makes society possible. He 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 writing 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 fall 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 being able to pass a judgment on it. Conversation on literature is 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 down to dinner ? LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 71 He had tried her on music and painting in vain. She had no taste for either. Society was as barren a theme, for papa did not approve of any but dinner parties. " Then I suppose you read a great deal?" asked nry friend. "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 are of Thackeray's party." " We never read Thackeray." "Then you are romantic, .and devoted to Bulwer Lytton?" " Never," replied the young lady, rather shocked. '' Then which is your favorite novelist?" l{ James," she replied triumphantly. " Ah !" said my friend, reviving a little, " James i exciting." " Oh. yes ! we like his books so much ! Papa reads them aloud to us, but then he misses out all the exciting parts." After that my friend found his knife and fork better company than his neighbor. An acquaintance with old English literature is not per- haps indispensable, but it gives a man great advantage in all kinds of society, and in some he is at constant losa without it. The same may be said of foreign literature which in the present day is almost as much discussed as our own ; but, on the other hand, an acquaintance with 72 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSEHVANCES. home and foreign politics, with current history, and every subject of passing interest, is absolutely necessary; and a person of sufficient intelligence to join in good society can- not dispense with his daily newspaper, his literary jour nal, and the principal quarterly reviews and magazines The cheapness of every kind of literature, the facilities of our well-stored circulating libraries, our public reading- rooms and numerous excellent lectures on every possible subject, leave no excuse to poor or rich for an ignorance of 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 will never be allowed to forget that you are a citizen of the world The respect for moral character is a distinguishing mark of good society in this country as compared with that of the Continent. No rank, no wealth, no celebrity will induce 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 >nly 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 many offences which the law cannot reach, and this inclemency of the world, this exile for life which it pronounces, must be 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 this one verdict of perpetual expulsion pronounced ^ g)od society Often is it given without a fair trial, on the report of a slanderer ; often it falls upon the wrong head ; often it proves 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- ty of daughters, wives and sisters, the honor of sons ; it must 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, since the mere suspicion which such an inquiry would ex cite is sufficient to ruin a character that might prove to be 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 to the original utterer. We want to put down those old maids and dowagers who shake their cork-screw ringlets at 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 OBSERVANCES. the pot-house stories of grooms and lacqueys, and receive with greater caution the gossip of the club-room. How many a fair fame of a virtuous girl is ruined by the man she has rejected ; how many an lago lives and thrives in society to the present day ; how many a young man ia blackened by a rival ; how many a man we meet in the' 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 as 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 repeat 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 bea*ring this inscription : " Thys is a brydel For the women of Walton who speake so ydel.' I know not what poor creature, blasted by a venomous tongue, invented and gave to the church this quaint relic ; I only wish that every parish church had one, and tli at 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 gam,? time- TEMPER. Tf> A discourteous but well-merited reply which I heard the other day, reminds me that good temper is an essen- tial of good society. A young lady, irritated because a gentleman would not agree with her on, some matter, loyt her balance, and irritably exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. A , yo i have only two ideas in your head." " You are right, " replied the gentleman, " I have only two ideas, and on 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 the 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. II 3 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 him before I had seen anything of this failing, I was horror- struck by hearing him say to a servant, " Confound you, will you take that dish to the other end ! " Of course I paid no attention, but hoping to cover him, talked loudlj and eagerly. It was useless. The servant blundered 76 THE SPIBIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. and the master thundered, till at last there was a dea(i silence round the table, and we all looked down into our plates. The mistress of the house made the matter worse by putting in at last, "My dear Charles, do be mode- rate," and the irritable man only increased the awkward- ness by an irritable reply. I overlooked this, and dined there again, but only once. This time it was his daugh tor 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's 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 appetitlich 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 is at least wise to discover what are the views of, your com- pany before you venture on these subjects. Zeal, Low- ever well-meant, must, as St. Paul warns us, often bo sacrificed to peace ; and where you cannot agree, an I feel that to reply would lead you into an argument, it i; best to be silent. At the same time there are some oc- casions where silence is servik No man should sit still 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 any. TEMPER 77 body speaks ill of the listener's friend or relation. Even then he best marks his indignation by rising and leaving the room. Nor need any man fear the imputation of cowardice, if he curbs his anger at direct abuse of him- self. " A soft answer turneth away wrath;" and if he cannot check his own feelings sufficiently to reply in a conciliatory tone, no one can blame him if cooly and po- litely he expresses to his antagonist his opinion of his bad manners. The feeling of the company will always go with the man who 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 trul} 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 olows metaphorically. A blow with the hand is rarely if ever given in good society. Another case in which the Christian and the social nile coincide, if not in reality at least in appearance, is that of private animosities. Of the " cut," as a neces- sary social weapon, I shall speak elsewhere, but it *ow suffices 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. Its object is not to wound and cause confusion, but to make known to the person "cut" that your feelings towards 78 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. him are changed. In good societj no one ever ;mts ano- ther in such a manner as to be generally remarked, and the reason is obvious : It causes awkwardness and confu- sion in the rest- of the company. It is worse. Between a guest and host the relation is supposed to be friendly ; if not so, it can always be immediately discontinued; so that generally the ill will must be between one guest and another under 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 me 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 if 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 between Austria and France, it is not unfrequently followed by overtures of peace ; and I have known two people who bad not interchanged two words for a score of years, shake hands before they left a house where they had been accidentally brought together. Had they not been well- bred this reconciliation could never have taken place. The relations of guest to guest are not so well under- stood in this country as on the Continent. There your host's friends are for the time your friends. When you renter a room you have a right to speak to, and be ad- HOSPITALITY. 1 9 \ dressed by, everybody present. The friendship of yjur host, declared, as it were, in his inviting them there, is a sufficient recommendation and introduction to every one of his guests. If you and they are good enough for him to invite, you and they are good enough for each other to know, and it is, therefore, an insult to your host to re main next to a person for a long time without addressing him. In exclusive England we require that our host or hostess shall give a special introduction to every guest, but in 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, is your guest, and you are bound to treat him as one. In 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 peopl i even this introduction does not suffice, and the' vulgar often take pride to themselves in proving that their house -. are their castles. A late neighbor of mine, of somewhat peppery temper, used to tell with glee how he had turned out of his house a gentleman an innocent but not attrac- tive :nan who had been brought there by a common friend, but whom he did not wish to know. I often thought* 80 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. when I heard the tale repeated, " How little you think you are telling a story against yourself!" So, too, when Arabella, speaking of Charles, with whom she has quar- relled, tells me so proudly, I cut him last night dead, and before the whole party, to his utter confusion," 1 whisper 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 of animosity between any of them always mars the sense of peaceful enjoyment, for which all have met. To pick a quarrel, to turn your back on a person, to cut him openly, or to make audible remarks on him, are displays of tem- per only found in vulgar society. The other requisites indispensable for good society will 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- 4ispensable, and certainly a man or woman of good educa- tion and good breeding could pass muster without them. But they lend a great charm to society, and in some cases 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. Rules and hints for this will be given in various sections, but I may here say that it is an art which de- mands no little labor and ingenuity, and if anybody TO DINNER-GIVERS. 81 imagines that the offices of host and hostess are sinecures, he is greatly mistaken. The great principle is that of movement. According tD the atomic theory, warmth and brilliance are gained by the rapidity of the atoms about one another. We are only atoms in society after all, and we certainly get both warmth and brilliance when we re- volve round each other in the ball-room. But it is rather mental movement that I refer to just now, although the 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 there must be some- thing for the minds of those assembled to dwell upon ; something to suggest thought, and thus generate conversa- tion. I 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 ivas done in those days, the jovial wit, happier than his companions who had had more of the " feast of reason and the flow of 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 the conversation to the end. But if they have not this art, it is highly desirable, that dinner-givers should invite their regular talker, who, like the Roman parasite, in con- sideration of a good dinner, will always be ready with a fresh topic in case of a lull i*i the conversation, and always be able to .ntroduce it with something smart and lively 4* 82 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. There is a hotel in the city where a certain number of broken-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 nighty or hindered from preaching by any accident, he has only to send down a messenger and a reverend gentleman flies to him : the sermon is at his service for the sum of one guinea, or less. Would it not answer to institute a similai establishment for the benefit of dinner-givers? The only question the cleric asks is, "High or low?" He has a sermon in each pocket, " high" in the right, " low" in the left, and produces the proper article, if he does not by mistake forget which is in which, and astound an evangel- ical 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 pur 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 his guests at the middle of dinner, ask if the entremets are good, and go to his easy-chair again in* the library. Of the art of entertaining on various occasions I shall ireat' under the proper heads, and we come now to the dis- 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 fit MEKE WEALTH. 88 for good society, 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- land would not only shut you out from enjoying the society of people of no ordinary stamp, but is now generally con- ; iclered as a cowardly way of asserting your superiority. A young lady said to me the other day, " I wonder you can visit the C.'s ; their mother was a cook." " Well." said I, "it is evident she did not bring them up in the kitchen." 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 some sort, in which 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 his ] rougham or cabriolet. In the metropolis, again, a man- i ervant is almost indispensable, though not quite ; and if you have the moral courage to do without one you will find that your small dinners always better than large ones will be more quietly served by women than by men. Londoners have still to learn that large pompous " feel- ings" are neither agreeable nor in good taste, and that evening meetings, for the purpose of conversation, with as little ceremony as possible, are far less tedious, less bilious^ ind less expensive. 84 THE SPIRIT OP SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. They do these things better in Paris, where the dinner* party is an introduction of the nouveaux riches. There the <300 a year does not exclude its owners from the en- joyir.ent of tho best, even the highest society. They may be asked to every ball and dinner of the season, and are not expected to return them. A voiture de remise ia good enough to take them even to the Tuileries. The size of their apartment is no obstacle to their assembling their friends simply for tea and conversation. If the rooms 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 wealth, 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 your 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 constitute 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 wag 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 desire 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, I had to pass within a yard of Mrs. , who was BANK 85 gorging ices amid a crowd of rather inferior Frenchmen ; there was not the slightest fear of my spilling the chocolate, and I was too far from her to spoil her dress, had I been awkward enough to do so ; but as I passed back, she sud- denly screamed out, in very bad French, " Monsieur, Mon- sieur quoi, faites-vous, vous gatery mon robe !" Of course everybody looked round. I bowed low, and begged her 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 entree 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 Paris, it is only in the vulgar circles of the Chausseo d'Autin, that "Monsieur le Comte," or "Monsieur le Marquis," is shown off as a lion; and in the well-bred circles in this country, the nobleman must be content with precedence, and the place of honor, and for the rest be aa 86 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. one of the company. In Southern Germany, the distinc- tion is the other way ; the simple Herr is almost as re- markable as the man of title in England. In fact, every- body admitted to what is there called good society, hag some title, whether by birth or office ; and a man must bo 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 trades- 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 whom 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 raises 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 ii 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 Jiave two or three, for you may be sure that they will be- have less arrogantly in one another's presence ; or per- haps a better plan still, is to invite a score of critics to meet him ; you will then find your show beast as tracta- ble and as quiet as his name-sake in the caresses of Van Amburg or Wombwell. The man of science again, has RANK AND DISTINCTION. 87 too 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 pro- fession, which, for perfect ease and equality, should be concealed. Distinguished foreigners, if they are clean, and can talk English well, may be very agreeable, but 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, in preference to wealth and mere birth, that they are, when 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 excuses more our adulation. Rank is rarely gained by merit, and when it is so, it is swamped by it. Macaulay and Brougnam 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 them 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, we 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 enjoying society, with two exceptions, the blue-stocking and the esprit fort, neither of which should ever be ad* mitted into good society. "But while genius is scarcely a recommendation in social 88 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. meetings, there are mental qualities nearly allied to it, which are the best we can bring 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 well as in it ; those who have mind without affectation, and talents with- out conceit ; those who have formed, and can form fresh opinions on every subject, and to whom a mere word serves as the springing-board from which 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 meeting. 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 oifer a definition of good society. It is, the meeting on a footing of equal- ity, and for the purpose of mutual entertainment, of men, of women, or men and women together, of good character, good education, and good breeding. But what is the real spirit of the observances which this society requires of its frequenters for the preserva- tion of harmony and the easy -intercourse of all of them ? Certainly, one may have a spotless reputation, a good ed- DEFINITION OF GOOD SOCIETY. 89 ucation, and good breeding, without being either good in reality, or a Christian. But if we examine the laws which good society lays down for our guidance and governance, we shall find without a doubt, that they are those which a simple Christian, desiring to regulate the meetings of 'a number of people who lacked the Christian feeling, would dictate. I am, of course, quite aware that good society will never make you a Christian. You may be charming in a party, and every 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 its 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 both the spirit of friendliness, of goodwill. Thus, though the laws of society are necessarily 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 dictate 90 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. them are reducible to the same law, and this law proves to be the fundamental one of Christian doctrine. Thus, what the heathen arrwes at only by laws framed for the comfort of society, we possess at once in virtue of our re- ligion. And it is a great glory for a Christian to be able to say, that all refinement and all civilization lead men a3 far as their conversion is concerned to the practice of Christianity. It is a great satisfaction to feel that Christianity is eminently the religion of civilization and society. The great law which distinguishes Christianity 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 beautiful 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 ofthe 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 other requires 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 farther ; as a Christian community excludes sinners and unbelievers from its gatherings, so a *ocia] CHRISTIANITY AND SOCIETY. 91 lommunity excludes from its meetings those of Lad char- acter, and those who do not subscribe to its laws. But society goes farther, and appears to impose on its members a number of arbitrary rules, which continually restrict^them in their actions. It tells them how they must eat and drink and 1 dress, and walk and talk, and so on. We ought to be very thankful to society for taking so much trouble, and saving us so much ddubt and con- fusion. But if the ordinances of society are examined, it will be found that while many of them are merely derived from custom and tradition, and some have no positive val- ue, they all tend to one end> the preservation of harmony, and the prevention of one person from usurping the rights. or intruding on the province of another. If it regulates your dress, it is that there may be an appearance of equal- ity in all, and that the rich may not be able to flaunt their wealth in the eyes of their poorer associates. If, for instance, it says that you are not to wear diamonds in the morning, it puts a check upon your vanity. If it says you may wear them on certain occasions, it does not compel those who have none to purchase them. If society says you shall eat with a knife and fork, it is not because fingers were not made before forks, but because it is well known that if you were to use the natural fork of five prongs instead of the plated one of four, you would want to wash your hands after every dish. If she goes farther and says you shall not put your knife into your mouth, it is because she supposes that you, like ninety-nine out of every hundred of civilized beings, can taste the steel when you do so, and is surprised at your bad taste, and since she demands good taste she cannot think you fit for her court. Of course, she cannot stop to hear you explain 02 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSKilYAXCES. that you 'find a particular enjoyment in the taste of steel, and that therefore on your part it is good not bad taste. She is by necessity forced to judge from appearance. If again she forbids you to swing your arms in walking, like the sails of a windmill, it is not because she finds any pleasure in pinioning you, but because beauty is a result of harmony, which is her first law, and she studies beauty, adopts the beautiful, and rejects the inelegant. That mo- tion of the arms is not lovely, confess it. Society is quite right to object to it. Once more, if she dubs you vulgar for speaking in a loud harsh voice, it is because whatever be your case, other people have -nerves which may be touched and heads which can ache, and your stentorian tones set the one vibrating and the other throbbing. In short, while she may have many an old law that needs repealing, you will find that the greater number of her enactments are founded on very good and very Christian considerations. You will find that the more religious a man is, the more polite he will spontaneously become, and that too in every rank of life, for true religion teaches him to forget himself, to love his neighbor, and to be kindly even to his enemy, and the appearance of so being and doing, is what society demands as good manners. How can it ask more ? How can it rip open your heart and see if with your bland smile and oily voice you are a liar and a hypocrite ? There is One who has this pow- er forget it not ! but society must be content with the semblance. By your works men do and must judge you. Before I quit the demands of society, I must say a few words on the distinction she makes between people of dif- ferent ages and different domestic positions ; to wit. how she has one law for the bachelor, another for the bene- PATERFAMILIAS. 93 diet ; one for the maid, another for the matron ; one law, I mean, to regulate their privileges and to restrict their vagaries. Let us begin with that awful, stately, and majestic being, Paterfamilias Anglicanus ; the same who, having reached the age of perfetual snow, exacts our reverence and receives our awe ; the same who, finding his majesty lost on the vagabond Italian with the monkey and organ, resolves to crush him in a column of The Times ; the same before whom not Mamma herself dares open that same newspaper ; the same who warns her against en- couraging the French coun, for whom Mary Anne has taken such a liking, who pooh-poohs the idea of a watering-place in summer, who frowns over the weekly bills, and talks of bankruptcy and ruin oyer the milli- ner's little account, who is Mamma's excuse with the sons, the daughters, and the servants " your papa wishes it," she says, and there is not a word more, who with a mistaken dignity raises up an impassable barrier between himself and his children, chilling back their tenderest ad- vances, receiving their evening kiss as a cold formality, and who, ah, human heart ! when one of them is laid low, steals to the chamber of death privily and ashamed of his grief, turns down the ghastly sheet, and burying his head there pours out the only tears he has shed for so many a year. Poor father ! bitter, bitter is the self-reproach over that cold form now. What avails now the stern veto that bade her reject the handsome lover who had so poor a fortune, and broke ay, broke her heart that beata no more? Of what use was that cold severity which drove him to sea, who lies there now past all recal ? A.h ! stern, hard, cold father ; so they thought you, so 94 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. you seemed, and yet you meant it for the best, and you say you loved your children too well. Well, well, it is not all fathers who are like this. There is another spe- cies of the genus Paterfamilias Anglicanus, who is a jo- vialj and merry, and blithe by his fireside, whose child- ren nestle round his knees, ancl who has a kiss and a word, and a kind, soft smile for each. But what is the position of Paterfamilias in society? Where is his place ? Certainly not in the ball-room. If he comes there, he must throw aside his dignity, and de- light in the pleasure of the young. He must be young himself. In his own house he must receive all comers merrily the bal folatre is to be a scene of mirth ; he must not damp your gaiety with his solemn gravity. He is as little missed from his wife's ball-room, as a mute from a wedding procession ; and yet he must be there to talk to chaperons, to amuse the elderly beaux, and, if necessary, to spread the card-table and form the rubber. At all events, he never dances unless to make up a set in a quadrille. He is still less at home in the pic-nic, the matinee, and the fte : but he is great at the evening party, and all-important at the dinner. But even here there is a dignity proper to Paterfamilias, which, while it should avoid stateliness, should scarcely descend, to hilari- ty. He must not be a loud laugher or an inveterate talker. He is seen in his most trying light in his con- duct to the young. While we excuse his antique fashion, which rather becomes him, and would laugh to see him in the latest mode of the day, while we are pleased with hia old-fashioned courtesy, and would not have him talk slang or lounge on the sofa, we expect from him some consid- eration for the changes that have taken place since he THE MATRON. 95 courted his worthy spouse. Paterfamilias is too apt to insist that the manners and fashions of his spring were better than those of his winter are. He should be smil- ing to young women, and even a little gallant, and he should rejoice in their youthful mirth. But too often he is tempted to set down his younger brethren, too often ho is a damper, and wished away. The dignity of Pater- familias should never interfere with the ease, though it may well check the impudence of youth. The Matron is tender to her own. How much I wish she was as tender to the pride of others. But one hen will always kill another's chickens if she has the oppor- tunity, and Mrs. Jones will always pick to pieces Mrs. Brown's daughters. The Matron has many more social duties than Paterfamailias. It is she who arranges every- thing; who selects the guests ; who, with her daughter's pen, invites them ; who receives their visits ; who looks after their comforts ; who, by her active attentions, keeps up the circulation in evening parties ; who orders dinner, and distributes the guests at it ; who introduces partners at balls with her daughter's assistance ; who engages the chaperons ; who herself must go, willing or not, to look after her Ada and her Edith at the ball, and sit unmur- muring to the end of the dance. But she is well repaid by their pleasure, and when Ada talks of the Captain's attention, and Edith tells her what the curate whispered, she is" perfectly happy. The matron without children ia a woman out of her sphere, and until her children are grown up, she is a young married woman, and not a ma tron. It is only when Ada " comes out" that her office commences. She must then in society be an appendage to her daughter, and forget herself. But in the evening 96 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. party and the dinner-party she takes a higher place, aad in fact the highest, and whether as guest or host, it is to her that the most respect is shown ; she has a right to it, and it is her duty to keep it up. Still the matron appears more in her relation to her children than any other posi- tion, and in this her place in society is one that demands care. Great as her pride may be in her family, she ha3 no right to he continually asserting their superiority to all other young people. This is particularly remarkable in her treatment of her grown-up sons ; and a mother should remember that when fully fledged, the young birds can. take care of themselves. She has no right to tie them to her apron-string, and her fondness becomes foolish when she fears that poor Charles will catch cold at eight-and- twenty, or shrieks after James, because he will stroll away to his club. But when she assumes the dress and airs of youth, she becomes ridiculous. When once she has daughters presentable, she must forget to shine her- self; she should never, even if a widow, risk being her daughter's rival, and .her conduct to young men must be that of a mother, rather than of a friend. It is very different in France, where the married woman is par excellence the woman of society, no matter what her age. But in England, the bearing of the married woman with grown-up children must be the calm dignity and affability of the matron. The French have a pro- verb, " Faire la cour a la m^re pour avoir lafille ;" and I should strongly recommend the young man who wished to succeed with a damsel, to show particular attentions to her mamma. A mother indeed does not expect you to leave her daughter's side in order to talk to her ; but be sure that such an act gains you much more good will than THE YOUNG MARRIED MAN. 97 all the pretty speeches you could have made in that time to the daughter. And it is only kind too. As 1 have Baid, the mother's and chaperon's position is secondary when the daughter or protegee is present, at least in Eng- Jand ; but a good-natured man will take care that she does not feel it to be so. A good girl is always pleased to see proper respect and attention shown to her mother ; and when at breakfast the next morning, mamma says, " My dear, I like Mr. Jones very much ; he is a well-bred and agreeable young man ; I recommend you to cultivate him." And when Arabella exclaims, " Oh, mamma, the idea ! Mr. Jones indeed !" you may be sure the maternal praise is not lost upon her, and the idea is precisely one that she will allow to return to her mind. One of the most fattening dishes on which Master Cupid feeds, is that same praise bestowed by others. But whether you have an eye to Arabella or not, the chaperon ought not to be neglected. Now, what part young Benedict shall take in society depends on his young wife. If she be wise, she will not fret when he dances with pretty girls, and if he be kind he will not let the dance lead him into a flirtation. But Benedict may go everywhere, and need not sigh over the days of his celibacy. Only he must remember, that while he has gained some privileges, he has lost others. In the meetings of the young, for instance, he is less wanted than Coelebs, while, since he cannot be invited without his wife, he can_no longer expect to fill the odd seat at dinner. On the other hand, he takes precedence of the bachelor, and is naturally a man of more wejght, so that when he has passed his head under the yoke, he must be calmer, more sober, less frivolous, though not less lively than he was in 5 OS THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. the old " chambers" days. A great deal is forgiven to Ccele v bs on account of his position. If he talks nonsense occasionally, it is his high spirits ; if he dances incessant- ly the whole evening, it is that he may please " thos? dear girls ;" if he dresses an point de vice now and then, he is Claudio in love, lying sleepless for the night, " carv- ing out a new doublet ;" if he hurries to the drawing- room after dinner, or is marked in his attention to ladies, he is only on his promotion ; and if he has a few fast- lounging habits, " it is all very well for the boys," says Paterfamilias, and in short, " a young fellow like that" may do a thousand things that Benedict the married man must abstain from. Greater than any change, however, is that of his relations to his own sex. Some married men throw all their bachelor friends overboard, when they take that fair cargo for which they have been sighing so long ; but I would not be one of such a man's friends. At the same time, I must expect to see less of Benedict than before. "Adieu the petit souper" he murmurs, 4 ' the flying corks, the chorused song, the trips to Rich- mond and Greenwich, the high dog-cart, and the seat or the box of my friend's" drag ! Adieu the fragrant weed, the cracking hunting-whip, the merry bachelor-dinner, and the late hours ! Shall I sigh over them ? No, in- deed ! Mrs. Jones is not only an ample compensation for such gaieties, but I am thankful to her for keeping me from them. Why, that little baby-face of hers, that pouta so 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 be wiso, she will not draw the reins too tight all at once ; THE BACHELOR 99 and whatever she may say to hunting, she will see no harm in a mild havana and a couple of bachelor friends to dinner now and then. But Benedict has not only changed his manner and his habits, he has got new duties. and where his wife goes he may go, and ought to go He can no longer claim exemption from solemn dinners from 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 near it. JFree from incumbrance, Coelebs is as 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 in 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 papas ; 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 sine qua non at f te and pic nic, and wel- come everywhere. Indeed, I don't know what society can do without him. The men want him for their parties, the ladies, I suppose I must not say, " still more" for theirs. 100 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. The old like him because he is young, the young like him because he is not old ; and in short he is as much a neces- sity as the refreshments, and must be procured somehow or other. Then, too, if he does not care for these things he can come and sit here in the club-window ; or he can travel, which Benedict seldom can ; or he can take an oc- cupation or an art, while the married man has no choice, and must work, if he work at all, to keep quiet the mouths of those blessed cherubim in the perambulator. But that which makes Coelebs a happy man is, that he tan 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 has the spice of yalanterie 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 only make you ridiculous. Yes, the young bachelor is a happy man, but the old bachelor let me stop, if I once begin on that theme, I shall waste three quires of paper, and tire you out. But if much is allowed to CoelebSj THE YOUNG LADY. 101 much is expected of him. He has not the substance of Benedict to back him up, not the respectability of wedded life, not the charms of his young wife to make amends for his deficiencies. The young bachelor is more than any man a subject for the laws of etiquette. Less than any will he be pardoned for neglecting therm. He has no ex- cuse to offer 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 ahe 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 is a powerful rival. With the two she may do what slio will ; all men are her 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 only draw envy and even dislike upon her. In England, the 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 than 102 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. a young married woman. She has left off nonsense, and forgotten flirtation, and she has gained from the compan- 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 dinner 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 pi'ce 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 good 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." The next point is to remember that the mutual entertainment in society is obtained by conversation. For this yon re- quire temper, of which I have already spoken : confidence, of which I shall speak elsewhere ; and appropriateness, which has been treated under the head of "Conversation." I 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 feelings 10e of your profession and occupation, and surround yourself, so to speak, with a purely social atmosphere. You must remember that society requires equality, real or apparent and that all professional or official peculiarities militate against this appearance of equality. You must, in the same way, divest yourself of all feeling of superiority or inferiority in rank, birth, position, means, or even acquire- ments. You must enter the social ranks as a private. If you earn your laurels by being agreeable, you will, in 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 mar- ried woman, nor sneer at modern literature to a man with a beard, for if he is not a Crimean officer, he is sure to be an author. In like spirit you will discover and even anticipate the wants of others, particularly if you are a' man. On first acquaintance you will treat every one with particular 104 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. respect and delicacy, not rushing at once into a familiar joke, or roaring like a clown. Your manner will be calm because if you have no nerves, other people have them and your voice gentle and low. Oh ! commend me to an agreeable voice, especially in a woman. It is worth any amount of beauty. The tone, too, of your conversation and 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 people, 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 taste to talk about Mr. this or Mr. that. It is far better to have recourse to the newspapers, which every body jg supposed to have read, or to public affairs, in which every- body can take more or less interest. But it is not in your words only that yo'u may offend MANNERS. 105 against good taste. Your manners, your personal habits, jour very look even may give offence. These, therefore, must not only be studied, but if you have the misfortune to be with people who are not accustomed to refined man- nei s, and to find that insisting on a particular refinement would give offence, or cast an imputation on the rest, it ia always better 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 spoons for the salt, you must be content to use your knife or fork as the rest do. " To do in Rome as the Romai.s do," applies to every kind of society. At the same time, you 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, simply 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 study 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 those o whom you have devoted yourself will be shown in Bpeaking well of you ; you will become a desirable addi- ion to every party, and whatever your birth, fortune, or position, people wiJl say of you, " He is a most agreeable and well-bred man," and be glad to introduce you to good society. But you will reap a yet better reward. You will 5* 106 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. have in yourself the satisfaction of having taken trouble and made sacrifices in order to give pleasure and happiness for the time to others. How do you know what grief or care you may not obliterate, what humiliation you may not alter to confidence, what anxiety you may not soften, what last, but really not least what intense dullness you may not enliven ? If this work assist you in becom- ing an agreeable member of good society, I shall rejoice at the labor it has given me. PART I.-THE INDIVIDUAL. CHAPTER I s INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. THERE are several passages in Holy "Writ which have boen shamefully, I may almost say, ludicrously misapplied. Thus when we want a scriptural authority for making aa n:uch 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 the 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 that purity of mind and heart are meant, and that "cleanli- ness" was once the proper English for :c purity." j .Though we have no right to claim scriptural authority for soap and water, we cannot agree with Thomas of Ely, who tells us that Queen Ethelreda was so clean of heart as to need no washing of the body ; nor can we believe " that the loftiness of Lady Mary Wortley Montague's sen- timents at all replaced the brush and comb, towel and ba- ' (107) 108 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. sin, to which the liveliest woman of her day had such a strange aversion. It was she who, when some one said to her at the opera, " How dirty your hands are, my lady!" sKe replied with naive indifference, "What would you say if you saw my feet?" Genius, 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 coat and appendices for a whole 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 commori 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, which cannot be said of many a fine gentleman. Religion, however, is not always accompanied with neglect of the person. The Brahman bathes twice a day, and rinses 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 proper for a gentleman to change his under garment three times a day, and the washing bill of a beau comprised seventy shirts, thirty cravats, and pocket-handkerchief? n discretion. What would Brummell say to a college chum of 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 esteem, but it did not save Dives. Cleanliness is a duty to one's self for the sake of health, and to one's neighbor for the sake of agreeableness. Dirti- ness 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 far 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 which 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 man 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 friend^. 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 bo 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 BATH. \ The vessel which is dignified, like a certain part of lady'a dress, with a royal Order 3 is one on which folios might 110 INSIDE THE DKESSING-llOOAI. be written. It has given a name to two towns Bath ami Baden renowned 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 Home. 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 people shudder at his choosing that death in which he could not but die in sin ; but for my part, so far as the Malmsey is 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 la'ides who sacrifice a dozen of champagne to their morning ablutions, that wine has a peculiarly softening effect upon the skin. Besides Cham- niagne, 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 t 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- f 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 from without, alias dirt. It is quite a mistake to *The late Duke of Queensbury had his milk-bath every day. It if supposed to nourish as well as whiten and soften the skin. THE BATH. lit suppose, and tb j idea must at once be done away with, that one 13 . 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 in 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 we 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 /eature. However this may be, we must not suppose, because a yimb looks clean, that it does not need washing, and how- ever 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, so that one person is cured, and another killed by them. The same is to be said of sea-bathing, and the common hath even must be used with reference to one's condition. The most cleansing bath is a warm one from 96 to ? 100, into which the whole body is immersed. If cleans- / ing alone be the aim, the hotter the water the better, up J to 108. It expands the pores, dives well into them 112 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. and increases the circulation for tlie time being. But since it is an unnatural agent, it exhausts the physical I 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 ^ be used with discretion, and the time of remaining in the \ baih should never exceed a few minutes. _ The cold bath of from 60 to 70, on the other hand, 1 cleanses less, but invigorates more. It should therefore be avoided by persons of full temperament, and becomes 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 85 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 a 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. The best bath for general purposes, and one which can do little harm, 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 larg THE BAIfl. 113 coarse sponge the coarser the better will cost another 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 the bath is to be used ; not placed over night in the bed-room. Let us wash and be merry, for we know not bow soon the supply of tfiat precious article which here costs nothing may be cut off. In many continental towns they buy their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration is 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 the part of the body which should be first attacked is the stomach. 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 head should next be 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. J 114 INSIDE THE DRESSING-RC OM. i confess a preference for a rough towel or a hair glove Brummell patronized the latter, and applied it for nearly a quarter of an hour every morning. The ancients followed up the hath hy anointing tho 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 without dressing, should be so. The next duty, then, must be to clean the TEETH. Dentists are modern inquisitors, but their torture-rooms are meant only for the. foolish, f 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 pre- mier pas qui coute, these should be particularly avoided in childhood. When the teeth attain their full growth and strength it takes much more to destroy either their en- amel or their substance. ' It is upon the teeth that the eifects of excess are first seen, and it is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath depends What is more repulsive than a woman's smile THE TEETH 11 i f> discovering a row of black teeth, unlc&s it be the rank smell 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 duty to keep your teeth clean, I may at least remind you that you cannot be thoroughly agreeable without doing. so. 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 are 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 be what 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 ; but 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 times, with fresh cold water. This same process should be re- peated several times a day, since eating, smoking, and so 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 th? ji that of the 116 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM. other sex, and who can detect at jour first approac whether you have been drinking or smoking. But if onlj for your own comfort, you should brush your teeth botfc morning and evening, which is quite requisite for the pre- servation of their soundness and color ; while if you ar3 and with one another ; perhaps most of all with the color of our hair. All bright colors should be avoided, such aa red, yellow, sky-blue, and bright green. Perhaps only 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 for 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 ribbon 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 ; Dr if the sleeves are to be open, we should not rival the ladies in this matter. And so on through a hundred de- tails, generally remembering that to exaggerate a fashion is to assume a character, and therefore vulgar. The wear- ing of jewelry comes under this head. Jewels are an or- nament to women, but a blemish to men. They bespeak either effeminacy or a love of display. The hand of a man is honored in working, for labor is his mission ; and the hand that wears its riches on its fingers, has rarely worked honestly to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is 154 DRESS. his honor. Let that be bright and shining, well set in pi dence, and all others must darken before it. But as we are savages, and must have some silly trickery to hang about us, a little, but very little concession may be made to -our taste in this respect. I am quite serious when JL disadvise you from the use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and hat-bands studded with jewels ; for when I see an incred ulous young man of the nineteenth century, dangling from his watch-chain a dozen silly "charms" (often the only ones he possesses), which have no other use than to give a fair coquette a legitimate subject on which to approach to closer intimacy, and which are revived from the lowest superstitions of dark ages, and sometimes darker races, I am quite justified in believing that some South African chieftain, sufficiently rich to cut a dash in London, might introduce with success the most peculiar fashions of his own country. However this may be, there are already sufficient extravagances prevalent among our young men to attack. The man of good taste will wear as little jewelry as possible. One handsome signet-ring on the little finger of the left hand, a scarf-pin which is neither large nor showy nor too intricate in its design, and a light, rather thin watch-guard with a cross-bar, are all that he ought to wear. But if he aspires to more than tkis, he should ob- serve the following rules : 1. Let everything be real and good. False jewelry ia not only a practical lie, btft an absolute vulgarity, since its use arises from an attempt to appear richer or grander than its wearer is. 2. Let it be simple. Elaborate studs, waistcoat-buttons, and wrist-links, are all abominable. The last particularly JEWELRY. 155 should bo as plain as possible, consisting of plain gold ovals, with at most the crest engraved upon them. Dia- monds and brilliants are quite unsuitable to men, whose jewelry shoujd never be conspicuous. If you happen to possess a single diamond of great value you may wear it on great occasions as a ring, but no more than one ring should ever be worn by a gentleman. 3. Let it be distinguished rather by its curiosity than its brilliance. An antique or bit of old jewelry possesses nore interest, particularly if you are able to tell its his- jory, than the most splendid production of the goldsmith's jhop. 4. Let it harmonize with the colors of your dress. 5. Let it have some use. Men should never, like women, wear jewels for mere ornament, whatever may be the fashion of Hungarian noblemen, and deposed Indian rajahs with jackets covered with rubies. The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even our scarf-pins are more suitable without them. English taste has also the superiority over that of the Continent in condemning the wearing of orders, clasps, and ribbons, except at court or on official occasions. If these are really given for merit, they will add nothing to our fame : if. as in nine cases out of ten, they are bestowed merely because the recipient has done his duty, they may impose on fools r but will, if anything, provoke only awkward inquiries from sensible men. If it be permitted to flaunt our bravery or tur learning on the coat-collar, as much as to cry, like little Jack Homer, " See what a good boy am I !" I cannot 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 cases rf " almost miraculous cures." DRESS. 4 The dresg that is both appropriate and simple can novel offend, nor render its wearer conspicuous, though it may distinguish him for his good taste. But it will not be pleasing unless clean and fresh. We cannot quarrel with a poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his linen be pure, and we see that he has never attempted to dress beyond his means or unsuitably to his station. But the sight of 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 gloves 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 si^ns ' O of neatness than the reverse, and you need sooner be ashamed of a hole than a darn. Of personal cleanliness- 1 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 your laundress. The beaux of forty years back put on LINEtf. 157 three shirts a day, but except in hot weather one is suffi- cient. Of course, if you change your dress in the even- ing you must change your shirt too. There has been a great outcry against colored flannel shirts in the place of linen, and the man who can wear one for three days 13 looked on as little better than St. Simeon Stylites. I should like to know how often the' advocates of linen change their own under-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's 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, particularly 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 acts the part of a sham-pooer, and with its perpetual fric- tion soothes the surface of the skin, and prevents the cir- culation from being arrested at any one point of the body. Though I doubt if any of my readers will take a hint from the wisdom of the merry anchorites, they will per- 158 DRESS. haps allow me to suggest that the next best thing to wear next the skin is flannel, and that too of the coaisest cle- Bcription. Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevertheless it should be fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which wo borrowed from the French some four years ago. is a great 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 ungraceful. Who more hideous 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 BrummeH's, of three shirts a day, viz. : "> ,i nii n h r m 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 countiy all our linen remains longer clean than in London ; in dirty, wet, or dusty weather, our socks get soon dirty and 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 over a Crimean engagement, we shall want more than ona ESTIMATE OF A WARDROBE. 159 pocket handkerchief per diem. In fact, the last article ot modern civilization is put to so many uses, is so much dis- played, and liable to be called into action on so many va- rious engagements, that we should always have a clean one in our pockets. Who knows when it may not serve us in good stead ? Who can tell how often the corner of the delicate cambric will have to represent a tear which, like difficult passages in novels, is " left to the imagina- tion." Can a man of any feeling call on a disconsolate widow, 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 clirty one ? 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 then], and we are bound to weep elegantly. A man whose 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- ening England, and there was the same mania for volunteer corps as now, he 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 invent a similar story, to account for Lord Brougham's p ; rt:;;' ty to checked trousers. A. well-dressed man does not require so much an exten- sive as a varied wardrobe. He wants a different costuma 160 DRESS. for every season and every occasion ; but if what he selects 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 four 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 sold for .15,000, and a single cloak brought no less than 800. But George was a king and a beau, and in debt to 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 smaller proportion, if small a larger one. But generally speaking, 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 <18. Six pairs of morning, and one of evening trousers, will cost .9. Four morning waist- coats, and one for evening, make another <4. Gloves, linen, hats, scarves and neck-ties, about 3^10, and the im- portant item of boots, at least <5 more. This. I take it, is a sufficient wardrobe for a well-dressed man who employ 3 a moderate tailor, and the whole is under .50. It is quite possible to dress decently for half that sum, and men of small means should be content to do so. If a man. how- ever, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so, there are some things which are indispensable to even proper dressing, and every occasion will have its proper attire. In his own house, then, and in the morning, there ia no reason why he should not wear out his old clothes. STYLE IN MORNING DRESS. 1G1 Some men take to the delightful ease of a dresssing-gown and slippers; and if bachelors, they do 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 with 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 Malt 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 his wager, but also the soubriquet of " Le Diable enflamme." The walk- ing dress should vary according to the place and hour. In the country or at the sea-side a straw hat or wide-awake may take the place of the beaver, and the nuisance of gloves be even dispensed with in the former. But in Lon- don, where a man is supposed to make visits as well as lounge in the Park, the frock coat of very dark blue or Dlack, or a black cloth cut-away, the white waistcoat, and lavender gloves, are almost indispensable. Very thin boots should be avoided at all times and whatever clothes! 162 DRESS. one wears they should be well brushed. The shirt, whether seen or not, should be quite plain. The shirt col- lar should never, have a color on it, but it may be stiff or turned down according as the wearer is Byronically or Brummellically 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 hia want of it. The cane should be extremely simple, a mere stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the town not rough, 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 bufr 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 he 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 cousin removed, am forbidden by the laws at least those of Policeman Z 500, who most certainly would insist OD STYLE IN MORNING DRESS. 163 my " moving on" to array myself in a paletot of sack- cloth, 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," patronized by Doctor Conolly, and make the toga an excuse for ap propriating my small income, even if the small boys 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 seems to find 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 lias not been cast behind the counter of a haberdasher, %n there be any obvious reason why you should clothe 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- sition of a small tradesman, can you on any plausible 164 DRESS. grounds defend the fact that you are seen in the morning in a swallow-tail black cloth coat, and a black satin tie ? Nay, if like Mr. Fountayn Wilson, you have been specu- lating in cloth, black instead of grey, and had twenty thousand 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 it 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 may 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 Maltzan did, like " Sa Majeste d'en has," and you will either b( taken for a bargee, chimney-sweep, costermonger, coal- heaver, shoeblack, or demon, or you will be set down a& 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, and rejoice that the cruelties of the dark ages can never be perpetrated in these days and this country. I x 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 at LIMB-COA ERS. '185 once moi e comfortless or more hideous ? Let us begin "" with what the delicate Americans call limb-covers, which we 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 pauso awhile over this unsightly garment, and console ourselves with the reflection that as every country, and almo&c every year, 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 Turque. Whenever I call at a great house, which, as I am a writer on etiquette, must of course be very often, I confess to feeling a most trying insignificance in the pre- sence of the splendid Mercury who ushers me in. Why is this ? Neither physically, mentally, by position, educa- tion, nor genius, am I his inferior, and yet I shrink before him. On the other hand, if it is a butler in plain clothes who admits me, like Bob Acres, I feel all my courage ooze back again. I gave my nights, long and sleepless, to the consideration of this problem, and hav> now arrived at a satisfactory explanation. It is not the tall figure and magnificent whiskers ; it is not the gold lace and rich red plush ; it is not the majestically indifferent air of John Thomas that appals me ; it is the consciousness that my legs my, as a man, most important and distinctive limbs are in an inferior position to his. As, an artist, I can- not but recognize the superior beauty of his figure. And for this disgrace, this ignominy I suffer, I have to thank 1 GG DRESS. the Celts with their bracca, and the b^d taste of some calfless monarch or leader of fashion probably a German for all Germans have bad taste and bad legs who revived this odious, long obsolete instrument of personal torture. It is nothing less, believe me. Independent of a loss of personal beauty, there is the unhealthiness of a tight gar rnent clinging to the very portion which we exercise most, and which most demands a free circulation. It is true, that the old-fashioned breeches, if too tightly fastened round the knee, produced the same effect, and Maria Macklin, a celebrated actress of male characters, almost lost her leg by vanity in the matter of " Honi soit qui mal y pense ;" but, after all, what is not a cool stocking to a hot bag of thick stuff round the leg ; how far prefe- rable the freedom of trunk-hose, to the hardly fought liberty of the (l peg-top" trousers. But it is not all trousers that I rebel against. If I might wear linen ap- pendices in summer, and fur continuations in winter, I would not groan, but it is the evening dress that inflicts on the man who likes society the necessity of wearing the same trying cloth all the year round, so that under Boreas he catches colds, and under the dog-star he melts. They manage these things better abroad, ^n America a man may go to a ball in white ducksA In France he has the option of light grey. But in England we are doomed for ever to buckskin. This unmentionable, but most necessa- ry disguise of the "human form divine," is one that never varies in this country, and therefore I must lay down the rule : 7 For all evening wear black cloth trousers. But the tortures of evening dress do not end with our lower limbs. Of all the iniquities perpetrated under the EVENING-DRESS. 167 Reign of Terror, none has lasted so long as that of tho straight-jacket, which was palmed off on the people as a " habit de compagnie." If it were necessary to sing a hymn of praise to Kobespierre, Marat, and Co. , I would rather take the guillotine as my subject to extol than the swallow tail. And yet we endure the stiffness, unsightli- ness, uncomfortableness, and want of grace of the latter, with more resignation than that with' which Charlotte Corday put her beautiful neck into the " trou d'enfer" of the former. Fortunately modern republicanism has tri umphed over ancient etiquette, and the tail-coat of to-daj is looser and more easy th^n it was twenty years ago. I can only say, let us never strive to make it bearable, till we have abolished it. Let us abjure such vulgarities as silk collars, white silk linings, and so forth, which at- tempt to beautify this monstrosity, as a hangman might wreathe his gallows with roses. The plainer the manner in which you wear your misery, the better. Then again the black waistcoat, stiff, tight, and com- fortless. Fancy Falstaff in a ball-dress such as we now wear. No amount of Embroidery, gold-trimmings, or jewel-buttons, will render such an infliction grateful to the mass. The best plan is to wear thorough mourning for your wretchedness. In France arid America, the cooler white waistcoat is admitted. We have scouted it, and left it to aldermen and shopkeepers. Would I were an alderman or a shopkeeper in the middle of July, when I am compelled to dance in a full attire of black cloth. However, as we have it, let us make the best of it, and not parade our misery by hideous ornamentation. The only evening waistcoat for all purposes for a man of taste is one of simple black cloth, with the simplest possible buttons 168 DRESS. Those three items never vary for dinnei -party, muffin- worry, or ball. The only distinction allowed is in the neck-tie. For dinner, the opera, and balls, this must be whitftj and the smaller the better. It should be, too, of a washable texture, not silk, nor netted, nor hanging down, nor of any foppish production, but a simple white tie without embroidery. The black tie is only admitted foi evening parties, and should be equally simple. The shirt- front which figures under the tie should be plain, with unpretending small plaits. All the elaborations which the French have introduced among us in this^ particular, and the custom of wearing pink under the shirt, arc an abomination to party-goers. The glove must be white, 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 awkwardness 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 no need in the present day to copy the Roman gentleman mentioned by Athenaeus, who wore gloves at dinner that he might pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly than the bare-handed guests As to gloves at tea-parties and so forth, we are generally safer with than without them. If it is quite a small party, we may leave them in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely ex- pected to be worn ; but " touch not a cat but with a glove ;" you are always safer with them. BREST, UNDIIEST, AND MUCH DREST. 169 so in the matter of the hat. In France and Ger- the hat is brought into a ball-room and drawing- room under all circumstances, and great is the confusion arising therefrom, a man having every chance of finding his new hat exchanged for an old one under a seat. I once walked home from a German ball as bare-beaded as a friar, some well-dressed robber having not only ex- changed his hat with mine, but to prevent detection car- ried off his own too. I shall not easily forget the con- sternation in an English party to which I went soon after my return from the Continent, unconsciously carrying in my hat, and the host could not restrain some small face- tious allusion to it, when I looked for it under the table before going away. A " Gibus" prevents all such diffi- culties ; yet as a general rule in England the hat should be left outside. I must not quit this subject without assuring myself that my reader knows more about it now than he did be- fore. In fact I have taken one thing for granted, viz., that he knows what it is to be dressed, and what undress- ed. Of course I do not suppose him to be in the blissful state of ignorance on the subject once enjoyed by our first parents. I use the words " dressed" and " ui-dressed" rather in the sense meant by a military tailor, or a cook with reference to a salad. You need not be shocked. I am one of those people who wear spectacles fo- fear of seeing anything with the naked eye. I am tbe soul of scrupulosity. But I am wondering whether everybody arranges his wardrobe as our ungrammatical nurses used to do ours, under the heads of " best, second-best, third- best/ 7 and so on, and knows what things ought to be placed under each. To be '^undressed" is to be dressed 8 .170 DRESS. >i for work and ordinary occupations, to wear a coat whicu you do not fear to spoil, and a neck-tie which your ink- stand will not object to, but your acquaintance might To be " dressed," on the other hand, since by dress we show our respect for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to mingle, is to be clothed in the garments which the said society pronounces as suitable to particu- lar occasions ; so that evening dress in the morning, morning dress in the evening, and top boots and a red coat for walking, may all be called "undress," if not positively "bad dress. 1 ' But there are shades of being "dressed;" and a man is called " little dressed," "well dressed," and " much dressed," not according to the quan- tity but the quality of his coverings. The diminutive jockey, whom I meet in my walks a month before the Derby, looking like a ball of clothes, and undergoing a most uncomfortable process of liquefaction which he de- nominates "training," is by no means " much dressed' because he wears two great-coats, three thick waistcoats and the same number of " comforters." To be " littl^ dressed" is to wear old things, of a make that is no Ion ger the fashion, halving no pretension to elegance, artistk beauty, or ornament. It is also to wear lounging clothes on occasions which demand some amount of precision. To be " much dressed" is to be in the extreme of the fashion, with bran new clothes, jewelry, and ornaments, with a touch of extravagance and gaiety in your colors. Thus to wear patent leather boots and yellow gloves in a .uiet morning stroll is to be much dressed, and certainly does not differ immensely from being badly dressed. To be " well dressed" is the happy medium between these two, which is not given to every one to hold, inasmuch as BREST, UNDEEST, AND MUCH BREST. 171 good taste is rare, and is a sine qwi non thereof. Thus while you avoid ornament and all fastness, you must cul- tivate fashion, that is good fashion, in the make of your clothes. A man must not be made by his tailor, but should make him, educate him, give him his own good taste. 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 j without violent colors, elaborate ornament, or senseless 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, accompanied 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 without, in a fus- tian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-coat, because they are types of labor, which is far more honorable than lounging. Again, light clothes are generally placed above dark ones, because they cannot be so long worn, and are therefore proofs of expenditure, alias money, which in this world is a commodity more honored than every other ; but on the other hand, tasteful dress is al- ways more honorable than that which has only cost much 172 DRESS. Light glcves are more esteemed than dark ones, and the prince of glove-colors is undeniably lavender. " I should say Jones was a fast man," said a friend to me one day, " for he wears a white hat." If this idea of my companion's be right, fastness may be said to consist mainly 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 ends and 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 supp( 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's 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 a 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 positively see you in them, and no amount of negligence in your dress and person will convince me you are a ge- nius, unless you produce an octavo volume of poems pub- lished by yourself. I confess I am glad th it the nigligs style, so common in novels of ten years back ; has been STYLES OF DRESS. 17 J succeeded by neatness. What we want is real ease in th