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 ar<j
to mingle with others, they should be brushed, or at least
the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after
smoking, or drinking wine, beer or spirits. No amount
of general attractiveness can compensate for an offensive
odor in the breath ; and none of the senses is so fine a
gentleman, none so unforgiving if offended, as that of
smell. The following reproof was well-merited, if not
polite. " I have had the wind in my teeth all the way,"
said an Irishman, after a brisk walk on a breezy morn-
ing, before which he had been indulging his propensity
to onions. " Well, sir," replied his friend, who at once
perceived how he had breakfasted, " I must say that the
wind had the worst of it."
The custom of allowing the nails to grow as a proof
of freedom from the Jiecessity of working, which is most
absurdly identified with gentility, is not peculiar to China.
In some parts of Italy the nails of the left hand are never
cut till they begin to break, and a Lombard of my ac-
quainjance once presented me a huge nail which he had
just cut, and which I must do him the justice to say was
perfectly white. I admired it, and threw it away.
" What !" cried he indignantly, " is that the way you re-
ceive the greatest proof of friendship which a man can
give you ?" and he then explained to me that in his native
province the nail held the same place as a lock of hair
with us. I really doubt which has the preference, and
whether a Lothario's desk filled with little oily packets of
THE NAILS. 117
different colored hair is at all more romantic than a box
of beloved finger nails. Certainly there is beauty in a
long silken tress, the golden tinge reminding us of the
fair head of some lost child so like its mother's, or in the
rich dark curl that, in the boldest hour of love, we raped
from her head, who was then so confidently ours, and
now What is she now ? But even this fancy can take a
very disagreeable form, and what can we say of an ardent
hopeless lover whom I once knew, and who I was assured
gave a guinea to a lady's maid for the stray hairs left in
her mistress' comb !
But though wo may not be cultivating our nails either
to tear" a rival's face with, or to confer with a majestic con-
descension on some importunate admirer, we are not ab-
solved from paying strict attention to their condition, and
that both as regards cleaning and cutting. The former is
best done with a liberal supply of soap on a small nail-
brush, which should be used before every meal, if you
would not injure your neighbor's appetite. While the
hand is still moist, the point of a small pen-knife or pair
of stumpy nail-scissors should be passed under the nails
so as to remove every vestige of dirt ; the skin should be
pushed down with a towel, that the white half-moon may
be seen, and the finer skin removed with the knife or
scissors. Occasionally the edges of the nails should be
filed, and the hard skin which forms round the corners of
them cut away The important point in cutting the nails
is to preserve the beauty of their shape. That beauty
even in details is worth preserving I hare already remark-
ed, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, as
in the grace of our attitudes, or any other point, The
bii.r e, then, of the nail should approach as nearly as pos-
118 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
Bible to the oblong. The oriental ladies know this, and
allow the nail to grow to an enormous length, and bend
down towards the finger. Eut then they cultivate beauty
in every detail, for, poor things, they have none but per-
sonal attractions to depend on ; and they give to the pink
nail a peculiar lustre by the little speck of purple henna,
just as Parisian beauties pass a line of blue paint under
the lower eyelash ; perhaps, too, they keep their fingers
thus well armed to protect themselves from angry pashas,
or even but let us hope not to spoil the beauty of some
more favored houri. However this may be, the length ol
the nail is an open question, Let it be often cut. but al-
ways long, in my opinion. Above all, let it be well cut,
and never bitten. Had Brummell broken off his engage-
ment because the young lady bit her nails, I think I could
not have blamed him.
Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details,
^_^es, but not childish. The attention to details is the true
sign of a great mind, and he who can in necessity consider
| the smallest, is the same man who can compass the largest
subjects. Is not life made up of details ? Must not the
artist who has conceived a picture, descend from the dream
of his mind to mix colors on a palette? Must not the
great commander who is bowling down nations and setting
up monarchies care for the health and comfort, the bread
and beef of each individual soldier ? I have often seen a
great poet, whom I knew personally, counting on his
fingers the feet of his verses, and fretting with anything
but poetic language, because he could not get his sense
into as many syllables. What if his nails were dirty ?
Let genius talk of abstract beauty, and philosophers dog-
matize on order. If they do not keep their nails clean, I
CHILBLAINS. 119
shall call them both charlatans. The man who really love?
beauty will cultivate it in everything around him. The
man who upholds order is not conscientious if he cannot
observe it in his nails. The great mind can afford to de-
scend to details ; it is only the weak mind that fears to
be narrowed by them. When Napoleon was at Munich
he declined the grand four-poster of the Witelsbach family,
and slept, as usual in his little camp-bed. The power to
be little is a proof .of greatness.
For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more
than the bath, and as these parts are exposed and really
lodge fugitive pollutions, we cannot use too much soap,
or give too much trouble to their complete purification.
Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small white shell-like
ear; few^things reconcile us better to earth than tlK
cold hand and warm heart of a friend ; but to complete
the charm, the hand should be both clean and soft. Warm
water, a liberal use of the nail-brush, and no stint of
soap, produce this amenity far more effectually than
honey, cold cream, and almond paste. Of wearing gloves
I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak people who are
troubled with chilblains, they are indispensable all the
year round. I will add a good prescription for the cure
of chilblains, which are both a disfigurement, and one of
the petite.s 'mis' res of human life.
u Roll the fingers in linen bandages, sew them up well,
and dip them twice or thrice a day in a mixture, con-
sisting of half a fluid ounce of tincture of capsicum, and
a fluid ounce of tincture of opium."
The person who invented razors libelled Nature, and
added a fresh misery to the days of man. " Ah !" said
Diogones, who would never consent to be shaved, ''would
120 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
you insinuate that Nature had done better to make you a
woman than a man?" As for barbers, they have always
been gossips and mischief-makers, and Arkwright, who
invented spinning by rollers, scarcely redeemed his trade
from universal dishonor. They have been the evil spirits
of great men too, whom they shaved and bearded in their
private closets. It was a barber who helped the late
King of Oude to ruin the country he governed j and it
was a barber who, at the beginning of the present centu-
ry, was the bottle-imp of a Bishop of Hereford. Who in
fact can respect a man whose sole office is to deprive hii
Bex of their distinctive feature ?
It is said that Alexander the Great introduced shaving,
to prevent his soldiers being caught by the beard by their
enemies, but the conqueror of Asia must be absolved of
priority in this iniquitous custom, which he probably
found prevalent in the countries he invaded. At any
rate it would appear that the Budhist priests of India
were ashamed of their locks at least Ifecentury before, and
this reminds me that -shaving and fanaticism have always
gone together. The custom of the clergy wearing a
womanish face is purely Romanist, and I rejoice to see
that many a good preacher in the present day is not
afraid to follow Cranmer and other fathers of our Church
in wearing a goodly beard. The Romish priests were
first ordered to shave when transubstantiation was estab-
lished, from a fear that the beard might fall into the cup.
It is clear that a Protestant chin ought to be well covered
Whatever be said of the clergy, the custom of shaving
came to this country like many other ugly personal habits,
with the foreign monarchs. As long as we had Planta-
genets, Tudors, and Stuarts on the throne, we were men
-
THE BEARD. 121
as to the outward form. William of Orange was. asham-
ed of that very appendage which it is a disgrace to a
Mussulman to be without. Peter the Great had already
proved that barber and barbarian are derived from th$
same root, by laying a tax on all capillary ornaments.
In England there has always been a great distinction
between civil and military men, and this is the only coun-
try in the world where the latter have been held in such
dislike, as to compel them to abandon their uniform in
everyday life. Perhaps it was on this account that ci-
vilians in general adopted the coutumes of the learned
professions, lest they should be thought to belong to that
of the sword. The beard and the rapier went out to-
gether at the beginning of the last century. In the pres-
ent day many a young shop-boy joins " the moustache
movement" solely with a hope of being mistaken for a
"captain."
Whatever Punch may say, the moustache and beard
movement is one in the right direction, proving that men
are beginning to appreciate beauty and to acknowledge
that Nature is the best valet. But it is very amusing to
hear men excusing their vanity on the plea of health, and
find them indulging in the hideous " Newgate frill" as a
kind of compromise between the beard and the razor.
There was a time when it was thought a presumption and
vanity to wear one's own hair instead of the frightful
elaborations of the wig-makers, and the false curls which
Sir Godfrey Kneller did his best to make graceful on
canvas. Who knows that at some future age some Punch
of the twenty-first century may not ridicuj^ the wearing
of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's ? At any rate
Nature knows best, and no man need be ashamed of show-
6
122 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
ing his manhood in the hair of his face. Of razors and
shaving therefore I shall only speak from necessity, be-
cause, until everybody is sensible on this point, they will
still be used. *
Napoleon shaved himself. " A born king," said he,
" has another to shave him. A made king can use hia
own razor." But the war he made on his chin was very
different to that he made on foreign potentates. He took
a very long time to effect it, talking between whiles to his
harigers-on. The great man, however, was ^ right, and
every sensible man \vill shave himself, if only as an exer-
cise of character, for a man should learn to live in every
detail without assistance. Moreover, in most cases we
shave ourselves better than barbers can do. If we shave
at all, we should do it thoroughly, and every morning,
nothing, except a frown and a hay-fever, makes the face
look so unlovely as a chin covered with short stubble.
The chief requirements are hot water, a large soft brush
of badger hair, a good razor, soft soap that will not dry
rapidly, and a steady- hand. Cheap razors are a fallacy.
They soon lose their edge, and no amount of stropping
will restore it. A good razor needs no strop. If you
can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one
for each day of the week, so that no one shall be too much
used. There are now much used packets of papers of a
certain kind on which to wipe the razor, and which keep
its edge keen, and are a substitute for the strop.
I may here remark, that the use of violet-powder after
shaving, now very common among well-dressed men, ia
one that should be avoided. In the first place, it is al-
most always visible, and gives an unnatural look to the
faco. I know a young lady, who, being afflicted with a
WHISKERS. 123
redness in a feature above the chin, is in the habit of pow-
dering it. For a long time I thought her charming, but
since I made the discovery I can never look at her with-
out a painful association wi*h the pepper-caster. Violet-
powder also makes the skin rough, and enlarges the pore?
of it sooner or later.
Beards, moustaches, and whiskers, have always been
most important additions to the face. Italian conspira-
tors are known by the cut of those they wear ; and it ia
not long since an Englishman with a beard was set down
as an artist or a philosopher. In the present day literary
men are much given to their growth, and in that respect
show at once their taste and their vanity. Let no man
be ashamed of his beard, if it be well kept and not fantas-
tically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits.
The Hungarians wear it so long that they can tie the
ends round their heads. The style of the beard should
be adopted to suit the face. A broad face should wear a
large full one ; a long face is improved by a sharp-pointed
one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the vari-
ous styles, and they are almost numberless. The chief
point is to keep the beard well-combed and in neat trim.
As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a
pair of full length. There is certainly a great vanity
about them, but it may be generally said that foppishness
should be avoided in this as in most other points. Above
all. the whiskers should never be curled, nor pulled out to
an absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close with
the scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too
large, and such fopperies as curling the points thereof, or
twisting them up to the fineness of needles though pa-
tronized by the Emperor of the French- -are decidedly a
124 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
proof of vanity. If a man wear the hair on his face
which nature has given him, in the manner that nature
distributes it, keeps it clean, and prevents its overgrowth,
he cannot do wrong. If, on fche other hand, he applies to
Marie Coupelle, and other advertisers, because he believes
that " those dear silky whiskers" will find favor in the
eyes of the fair, he will, if unsuccessful, waste much
money if successful, incur the risk of appearing ridicu-
lous. All extravagancies are vulgar, because they are
evidence of a pretence to being better than you are ; but
a single extravagance unsupported is perhaps worse than
a number together, which have at least the merit of con-
sistency. If you copy puppies in the half-yard of whis-
ker, you should have their dress and their manner too,
if you would not appear doubly absurd.
The. same remarks apply to the arrangment of the hair
in men, which should be as simple and as natural as pos-
rtible, but at the same time a little may be granted to beauty
and the requirements of the face. For my part I can see
nothing unmanly in wearing long hair, though undoubted-
ly it is inconvenient and a temptation to vanity, wh'le its
arrangement would demand an amount of time and atten-
tion which is unworthy of a man. But every nation and
every age has had a different custom in this respect, and
to this day even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn
long. The German student is particularly partial to hya-
cinthine locks curling over a black velvet coat ; and the
peasant of Brittany looks very handsome, if not always
clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down under a
broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the
matter severely. The old fathers preached and railed
igainst wigs, the Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bor-
THE HAIR. 12C
deaux on the same account, and English Roundheads con-
signed to an unmentionable place every man who allowed
his hair to grow according to nature. The Komans con-
demned tresses as unmanly, cind in France in the middle
ages the privilege to wear them was confined to royalty.
Our modern custom was a revival of the French revolu-
tion, so that in this respect we are now republican as well
as puritanical.
If we conform to fashion we should at least make the
best of it, and since the main advantage of short hair is
its neatness, we should take care to keep ours neat. This
should be done first by frequent visits to the barber, for
if the hair is to be short at all it should be very short,
and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled
masses sticking out over the ears. If it curls naturally
so much the better, but if not it will be easier to keep in
order. The next point is to wash the head every morning, ""
which, when once habitual, is a great preservative against
cold. I never have more than one cold per annum, and I
attribute this to my use of the morning bath, and regular
washing of my head. A pair of large brushes, hard or
soft, as your case requires, should be used, not to hammer
the head with, but to pass up under the hair so as to reach
the roots. As to pomatum, Macassar, and other inven-
tions of the hairdresser, I have only to say that, if used
at all, it should be in moderation, and never sufficiently to
make their scent perceptible in company. Of course the
rrangment will be a matter of individual taste, but aa
the middle of the hair is the natural place for a parting,
it is rather a silly prejudice to think a man vain who parts
his htu'r in the centre. He is less blamable than one who
is too lazy to part it at all, and has always the appearance
of having iust not UD.
126 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and ser-
mons since the days of the Roman emperors, I shall say
nothing here except that they are a practical falsehood
which may sometimes be necessary, but is rarely success-
ful. For my part I prefer the snows of life's winter to the
best made peruke, and even a bald head to an inferior wig.
When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of
their legs, an esquire was a necessity ; and we can under-
stand that, in the days of the Beaux, the word " gentle-
man" "meant a man and his valet. I am glad to say that
in the present day it only takes one man to make a gentle-
man, or, at most, a man and a ninth that is, including
the tailor. It is an excellent thing for the character to
be neat and orderly, and, if a man neglects to be so in his
room, he is open to the same temptation sooner or later in
his person. A dressing-case is, therefore, a desideratum.
A closet to hang up cloth clothes, which should never be
folded, and a small dressing-room next to the bed-room,
are not so easily attainable. But the man who throws his
clothes about the room, a boot in one corner, a cravat in
another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good
habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything
about him.
CHAPTER II.
THE LADY'S TOILET.
AN no particular has the present generation .^eccine more
fastidious than in what is requisite for the use of ladies
in their own dressing-rooms. Essences, powders, pastes,
washes for the hair, washes for the skin, recal the days of
one's grandmother, when such appurtenances were thought
essential and were essential : for our great-grandmothers
were not rigid in points of personal cleanliness ; and it is
only uncleanliness that requires scents to conceal it, and !
applications to repair its ravages. Our great-grandmoth- "^
ers wore powder and pomatum, and had their hair dressed
three times a week ; going to bed in the cushioned struct-
ure, after suffering torture for some hours lest they should,
in the weakness of human infirmity, lean back in their
chairs. Our great-grandmothers, too, had their white kid
gloves sewn to the bottom of each sleeve, lest they should
incur the calamity of a sun-burnt arm. Our great-grand-
mothers were afraid of cold water, and delicately wiped
their faces with the corner of a towel no larger than a
pocket handkerchief. There were those amongst them
who boasted that they had never washed their faces in
their whole span of existence, lest it should spoil their
complexions, but had only passed a cambric handkerchief
over the delicate brow and cheeks, wetted with elder-
flower water or rose water. I believe the nearest ap-
(12T)
128 THE LADY'S TOILET.
proach to the ablution we now diurnally practise was the
bathing their lovely countenances in May-dew, esteemed
: the finest thing in the morning for the skin by our bellea
of the last century: so they turned out betimes in high
heeled shoes and mgligzs, trotted down the old avenues
of many a patriarchal home to the meadow, and saturat-
ing their kerchiefs in May-dew, refreshed with it the cheeks
flushed over-night at quadrille or great cassino, and went
home contested that a conscientious duty had been per
formed !
Nor were they wrong. Some wise fairy of old must
have inspired the nymph whom she loved with the belief
in May dew ; tradition handed down the counsel from one
generation to another, the fairy, or gnome, smiling all the
while as she saw the lovely procession of the squires' young
daughters steal out and bend down amid the butter-cups
and ladies'-smock in the meadow : she smiled, and, as she
smiled, wafted to them good health, good spirits, and their
type bloom. She had induced them by a stratagem
_ Heaven pity her pious fraud ! to take a preliminary step
: to beauty and its preservation ; she had beguiled them into
- early rising.
For, gentle ladies, you may wash, may bathe your forma
and faces, curl your locks, and shake out your crinoline ;
use every essence Atkinson has, wherewith to arrest the
attention of wistful passers-by ; you may walk by the
hour, eat by rule, take beauty-sleep before midnight, yet,
if you are very long after the
" Sanguine sunrise with his meteor eyes"*
41 coming out and abroad from your chambers, youth will
* Shelley.
EARLY RISING. 129
not stay with you out his time, but, like an ill-behaved
apprentice, will break his indentures, and vow that he can-
not abide with you. It is true that rules for habitual early
rising cannot be laid down for every one, without especial
reference to other habits ; very early rising, after late
parties, or great fatigue on the previous day, or extreme
delicacy of the lungs or throat, might even be pernicious,
and its - use or abuse must be regulated by the physician.
In those cases the advice that is now given is for persons
in an ordinary condition of health. For them, and even
with some exceptions for invalids, there can be no habit of
the day or life so important, as far as good looks are con- j
cerned, as early rising. All other animals whose health
is of importance to man are forced to rise early. The
horse, on whose good condition his beauty, and therefore
his value depends, is exercised as early as possible. Our
cattle on the uplands scent the morning breeze as it brings
the odors of the woodbine ; the little house-dog pants till
he can rush forth from the pent-up heated chamber to the
fresh lawn ; and why is this obvious law of nature of so
great importance to these objects of preference or of value ?
The morning air is more strengthening, has a great pro-
portion of oxygen, be it replied, than any other breeze
that refreshes us by day, or when " the pale purple even"
warns us that our enjoyment of its delicious sensations are ^
not devoid of danger. No one catches cold in the morn- -
ing air, at least with the ordinary prudence of sufficient
clothing. Fortified by sleep, the change of atmosphere is !
most salubrious. To the careless and happy, what can be
;nore delightful than to feel all the freshness of nature
soothing every sense, whilst the great world and its inter-
ests and troubles is silent and slumbers? And it is this
6*
130 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.
fresh breeze, this emancipation from the pent^uj chamber ;
this reviving influence, that combine to form a restorative,
such as neither medicine nor regimen can offer ; that pre-
serves looks, appetite for food, and bloom and delicacy of
complexion.
An aged clergyman who had known not one day's ill-
ness was asked his secret: "Dry feet and early rising,"
was his reply; " these are my only two precautions."
With regard then to what a French author calls " a
whole Cyclopaedia of narcotics," young women forget that
there is no royal road to health and beauty. They must
take the right path if they wish to reap the reward. No
person in good health should remain in bed after seven
o' clock, or half-past seven, in, the spring and summer ;
that may, in the present century, when the daughters of
England are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed
early rising. She may then be down stairs at eight, and
without taking a long and fatiguing walk, saunter in the
garden a little ; or, if in a large town, have time to prac-
tise, supposing that the opportunity of going out into the
air is denied. By this means, that vigor which is the very
soul of comeliness, the absence of hurry and the sense of
self-reproach incurred by late rising, and the hunger felt
for breakfast, will all conduce to arrest Time, as she hovers
over his wholesale subjects, and to beguile him into sparing
that process with his scythe by which he furrows the brow
of the indolent with wrinkles, whilst he colors the poor
victim, at the same time, with his own pet preparation
of saifron.
Suppose then that this first and vital standing order for
the toilet be stringent, and that refreshed, and therefore
energetic, buoyant, and conscious of one duty being at least
CLEANLINESS AND EXERCISE. 131
performed, the lady leaves her bed and prepares to dress.
L. E. L. used to say, for she was no early riser, that " we
begin every day with a struggle and a sacrifice." But the
struggle is soon changed by habit into an eager desire to
get up ; and the sacrifice, to the habitual early riser, is to
be in bed. She rises : if in summer, throws open the
window for a quarter of an hour, whilst the bath is being
prepared, then closes it again, until the ablutions are com-
pleted. The nature of these must be guided in a great
measure by the general health. Of all bracing processes;
to a sound constitution, that of the shower-bath is the
greatest. It should be used however only with the sanc-
tion of the physician. The nervous energy is invigorated
by it, the digestion, a great desideratum for the complexion,
is improved ; the balance of circulation between the viscera
and skin is maintained ; and taking cold, that enemy of
the graces, rheums, catarrhs, and sore throats are kept
off; swelling glands are prevented, and the whole powers
of the frame increase. But, since the reaction is not in
some delicate constitutions sufficient to make the use of
the shower-bath desirable, the hip-bath, half filled with
tepid water at first, and with cold afterwards, or the spong-
"ing bath, are admirable modifications of the shower-bath.
Thus fortified, the lady who has courage to conquer a
shower-bath, or to plunge into a hip-bath, can face the
morning air, and go forth with the self-earned coat-of-
Hiail, as a defence against all that ugly family of catarrhal
affections.
We TI-^W come to the toilet-table. This, in a lady's as
well as in a gentleman's room, should be always neatly
set out, and every article placed where it can be most con-
veniently used. In former times, vast expense used to be
132
bestowed on china, and even on gold and silver toilet-
services ; then came the war, and the national poverty,
and those luxurious appliances were let down, if not aban-
doned. We have now resumed them with a degree of ex-
pense that is hardly wise or consistent. The secrets of
the toilet were, indeed, no fancied mysteries in former
days. Until the first twenty years of this century had
passed away, many ladies of bon ton thought it necessary,
in order to complete their dress, to put a touch of rouge
on either cheek. The celebrated Mrs. Fitzherbert was
rouged to the very eyes ; those beautiful deep blue eyes
of hers. The old Duchess of R enamelled, and usually
fled from a room when the windows were opened, as the
compound, whatever formed of, was apt to dissolve and
run down the face. Queen Caroline (of Brunswick) was
rouged fearfully; her daughter, noble in form, fair but
pale in complexion, disdained the art. Whilst the rouged
ladies might have sung or said,
*' We are blushing roses,
Bending with our fulness,'*
that gifted and lamented princess might have answered.
" We are lilies fair,
The flower of virgin light,
Nature held us forth, and said,
Lo ! * my thoughts of white.' " *
And it was certainly remarkable, that after the Princess
Charlotte's introduction at Court, rouge, which had been
the rule, became the exception, and that young people gen-
erally never used it.
Hunt.
ROUGE AND COSMETICS. 133
Still there were other means resorted to for attaining
the whiteness of skin which medical men dread, but which
is certainly a very striking and beautiful characteristic?
of an English woman. I once knew a lady who was bled
from time to time to keep the marble-like whiteness of
her complexion ; others, to my knowledge, rub their faces
with bread-crumbs as one should a drawing. But, worst
of all, the use of pearl powder, or of violet powder, has
been for the last half century prevalent.
Independent of all sorts of art being unpleasant, no
mistake of the fair one is greater than this. She may
powder, she may go forth with a notion that the pearly
whiteness of her brow, her neck, will be deemed all her
own ; but there are lights in which the small deception will
be visible, and the charm of all coloring is gone when it
proves to be artificial. We tremble to think what is un-
derneath.
There is another inconvenience attached to the use of
pearl powder, its great unwholesomeness. It checks the
natural relief of the skin, perspiration ; and though it
may not always injure the health, it dries up the cuticle,
and invites as it were age to settle. Where pearl powder
Aas been made t an article of habitual use, wrinkles soon
require additional layers to fill it up, just as worn out
roads have ruts, and must be repaired ; but the macada-
mising process cannot be applied to wrinkles.
Still more fatal is the use of cosmetics ; its extrava^" -,
gance, in the first place, is an evil ; but I treat not of the \
moral question, but of its physical effects. Some women
spend as much on essences and sweet waters as would
enable them to takp a journey, and thus do more for their
looks than all that a bureau full of cosmetics could insure
134
THE LADY'S TOILET.
Many an eruptive disease has arisen from the desire tc
make the skin clear ; above all, avoid specifics. Your
friends are in the habit of saying, such a thing " is good
for the complexion;" but remember that complexion is
the dial of constitution, and that no two constitutions are
alike. What is salutary in one case, may produce serious
mischief in another.
For instance, when abroad, a lady who had been very
much sunburnt was told that cucumbers cut into slices and
put into cream, produce a decoction that would take off
the burning effects of the sun. It is, in fact, a remedy
used by German laclies, who must however have skins
differently constituted than ours to bear it. The lady
used this very powerful specific, and her face was blister-
ed. Nothing, indeed, but time and cold weather will take
away the effects of the sun : butter-milk, from its gentle
acid, -has some efficacy on certain skins, but it is a disa-
greeable remedy.
The softest possible water ought, however, to be resort-
ed to in washing the face ; and rain-water, filtered, is in-
comparably the best. Great care should be taken not to
check perspiration by washing when heated ; these are
precautions consistent with nature, and therefore valuable.
The water should be dashed freely over the face several
times, and the process be pursued in the middle of the
day, as well as in the morning and at dinner-time ; it is
true, the face may, without that, be dean all day, but it
will not be fresh. The Turkish towels now used so much
are excellent foi wiping, as they do that important opera-
tion not only thoroughly, but without irritating the skin ;
the body, on the other hand, should be dried with a coarse
huckaback, an article unknown in France, but excellent
THE TRUE COSMETICS. 185
for promoting quick circulation in the frame after bathing.
To complete, then, the toilet so far as the person is con-
cerned ; with few or no cosmetics, with nothing but the
use of soap (the old brown Windsor being still, in spite
of all modern inventions, far the best for the skin,) to
have the water brought in fresh in the morning, as that
in the room is seldom, except in winter, really cool, these
are the simple preservatives of the skin, which it is very
easy t^injure and irritate, and very difficult to restore to
a healthy condition. It must, however, be remembered
that a healthy condition of the skin depends far less on
external than on internal causes ; and that good health,
maintained by early rising, and a simple, nutritive diet, is
the great originator of a clear and blooming complexion.
In cases of eruption, however, do nothing without good
advice. Many an eruption which poisons the comfort even
of the strongest-minded woman, has been fixed tfcyond
cure by dabblings of Eau-de-Cologne on the face thus
exciting instead of allaying the fiery enemy milk of
roses, essences, and cosmetics, whose name is Legion.
Such is the eflect of desperation on the female mind, that
it has been even tried whether raw veal cutlets being put
on the face would not soften and improve the skin ; an act
of folly which can only be characterized as disgusting.
Banish, therefore, if free from any cutaneous disease,
every essence, cosmetic, or sweet-water from your toilet ;
and remember that to keep the skin smooth and clean, all
rubbing and touching should be avoided ; fresh air, when
the heat of the sun is not intense, and pure water, are
the best and only cosmetics that can be used without pre-
judice.
There are many alleviations to eruptive complaints
186 THE LADY'S TOILET.
among the best is a solution of sulphur ; but even thia
should never be resorted to without advice, and in the
proper proportions. In many cases, however, it almost
immediately removes an eruption, by cooling the skin ;
hence it will be seen how very injurious are all essences
with spirit in them, which have a tendency to heat and
inflammation.
" Do you want luxuriant hair ?" is a question we see
daily in the papers, answered, of course, by a specific. If
possible, the skin of the head requires even more tender-
ness and cleanliness than any other portion of the body,
and is very soon capable of being irritated into disease.
In respect of this, as of the complexion, people err gene-
rally, from doing too much. In the first place, the most
perfect cleanliness must be enjoined ; formerly the use of
a fine-tooth comb was considered essential, and abroad it
is still resorted to, and is in some cases salutary. But, in
general, to the careful brusher the comb is not essential.
I say the careful brusher, for great harm is often done to
the hairs by rude, sharp, irregular brushing. The hairs
should be separated with a comb, so that the head and not
the hairs be brushed. The bruslrshould not be too hard ;
it may slightly redden the skin, but no more ; the use of
pomatum should be sparing, and confined to that of which
the ingredients are known marrow and bear's grease are
the best, and the former is most easily obtained genuine.
All scents are more or less injurious to the hair, and they
should be used in the slightest possible proportion. To
"wash the roots of the hair from time to time with weak
vinegar and water, or with a solution of ammonia, cleanses
it effectually, whilst a yolk of an egg beaten up and mix-
ed with warm water is excellent for the skin and hair
^ THE HAIR. 137
but it is troublesome to wash out, and must be done by a
careful maid. There is no risk, butgreat benefit, in wash-
ing even the "luxuriant hair" of a person in health, if /
done in warm weather, and well dried, or by a fire ; and I
a small quantity of ammonia insures from catching cold.
It is quite a mistake to suppose that washing the hair
makes it -coarse; it renders it glossy and flexible; the
washing cools the head, the heat of which is the greaf 1 -)
source of baldness and grey hairs ; it prevents all that
smell from very thick hair which is detected in persons
who trust to the brush only ; lastly, it is one of the most
refreshing personal operations, next to the bath, that can
be devised.
A lady's hair should, in ordinary life, be dressed twice
a day, even if she doej not vary the mode. To keep it
}ool and glossy, it requires being completely taken down
in the middle of the day, or in the evening, according to
the dinner-hours. The taste in dressing it in the morning
should be simple, without pins, bows, or any foreign aux-
iliary to the best ornament of nature. I do not mean to
deprecate the use of the pads, as they are called, or sup-
ports under the hair used at this time, because they super-
sede the necessity of frizzing, which is always a process
most injurious to the hair ; but I own I object much to
the ends of black lace, bows of ribbon, &c., used by many
young women in their morning coiffure : of course, for
those past girlhood, and not old enough to wear caps, the
case is different.
CHAPTER III.
DRESS.
%
" A STORY," says an eminent writer, " is never too old
to tell, if it be made to sound new." If this be true, I
*nay be excused for narrating the following veritable his-
tory : In an Indian jungle there once resided a tawny
jackal, a member, as all those animals are, of a jacka,
club which met at night in the said jungle. It was the
custom for the different subscribers to separate early in
the evening on predatory excursions, and on one occasion
the individual in question having dined very sparingly that
day on a leg of horse, ventured, in hopes of a supper,
within the precincts of a neighboring town. It happened
that while employed in the prowling distinctive of his
kind, he fell into a sunken vat filled with indigo, and
when he had contrived to struggle out again, discovered,
by the light of the moon, that his coat had assumed a
brilliant blue tinge. In vain he rolled himself on the
grass, in vain rubbed his sides against the bushes of the
jungle to which he speedily returned. The blue stuck to
him, and so, with the acutenes for which jackals are re-
nowned, he determined to " stick to" it. Shame indeed
would have overcome him, ridicule have driven him to
despair, when he rejoined his club, but for this resolu-
tion. That very morning he appeared among his kind,
whisking his tail with glee, and holding his head erect,
A titter, of course, welcomed him, and, before lonj, ou
(138)
FASHION AND ITS LEADERS. 139
would have thought that every jackal present had beer
turned into a laughing hyaena. Our hero was uothirig
abashed. " Gentlemen," said he, in the dialect of Hin-
dustani peculiar to his kind, " I have been to town, and
bring you the last new fashion." The laughter changed
to respectful admiration. One by one the members of
the club stole up to him and inquired where he had met
with the coloring, just as George IV. asked Brummell
what tailor had made that coat. The address was im-
parted, and if on the following evening not all of the prowl-
ing beasts appeared in a blue coat, it was only because
three of them had been drowned in the attempt to pro-
cure it.
The fable, which is a real Sanskrit one, will at once re-
mind us of one concerning that sharp-nosed quadruped
which farmers denounce, and squires combine to run to
death. But it has a moral as well as a satirical bearing,
and we believe that this moral has not been done justice to.
Fashion is called a despot ; but if men, like the jackals
and foxes, are willing, nay, eager to be its slaves, we can-
not, and ought not, to upbraid fashion. Its crowning is,
in short, nothing more than the confession that vanity
makes of its own weakness. We must be vain ; we are
weak; all we ask is to be guided in our vanity.
The worst of it is, that the man who rebels against
fashion, is even more open to the imputation of vanity
than he who obeys it, because he makes himself conspicu-
ous,* and practically announces that he is wiser than his
kind. There cannot be greater vulgarity than an affecta-
tion of superior simplicity. Between the two it is left to
the man of sense and modesty only to follow fashion so far
as not to make himself peculiar by opposing it.
140 DRESS.
Dress and sin came in together, and have kept good
fellowship ever since. If we could doubt, as some have
done, the authenticity of the Pentateuch, we should have
to admit that its author was at least the shrewdest ob-
server of mankind, inasmuch as he makes a love of dress
the first consequence of the Fall. That it really was so,
we can be certain from the fact that it has always accom-
panied an absence of goodness. The best dressers of every
age have always been the worst men and women. We do
not pretend that the converse is true, and that the best
people have always dressed the worst. Plato was at once
a beau and a philosopher, and Descartes was the formei
before he aspired to be the latter. But the love of dress,
take it as you will, can only arise from one of two closely
allied sins, vanity and pride ; and when in excess, as in
the miserable beaux of different ages, it becomes as ridic-
ulous in a man as the glee of a South Sea islander over a
handful of worthless glass beads. No life can be more
contemptible than one of which the Helicon is a tailor's
shop, and its paradise the Park ; no man more truly
wretched than he whose mind is only a mirror of his body,
and whose soul can fly no higher than a hat or a neck-tie ;
who strangles ambition with a yard-measure, and suffocates
glory in a boot. But this puny peacockism always brings
its own punishment. The fop ruins himself by his vanity,
and ends a sloven, like Goodman, first a, well-dressed stu-
dent of Cambridge, then an actor, then a highwayman,
who was at last reduced to share a shirt with a fellow-
fool, and had to keep his room on the days when the other
wore it.
But we must not suppose that this vanity lies in the
following more than in the outraging of fashion; and if
NEW AD OLD FASHIONS. 141
there were no such thing as a universal rule cf dress, we
may be confident that there would be just as much, if not
more foppery, where each could dress as he liked. When
it could not glory in the roll of a coat-collar or the turn
of a hat-brim, it would show itself in richness of stuffs
and splendors of ornaments ; and while fashion has to be
blamed for many extravagances, the gold chains of one age,
the huge wigs of another, and the crinoline of a third,
we must rejoice that it holds so severe a sway over men's
minds, when we find that at another period it decrees sim-
plicity, and legislates to put down superfluous ornament.
The wise man, therefore, who frets at its follies, will at-
tempt not to subvert, but rather to reform it ; not to tear
from his throne a monarch elected by universal suffrage,
who will instantly be reinstated, but to lead him by his
own example, and, if possible, by his voice, to make simple
and sensible enactments. Better a wise despot than a silly
republic.
When kings were the ministers of fashion, dress was
generally costly and showy ; when philosophers were its
counsellors, it became slovenly and untidy ; and when, as
in the present day, it is led by private gentlemen and pri-
vate ladies, it is often absurd a i in bad taste, but gener-
ally tends towards simplicity. It is certainly amusing,
when looking -back at the history of dress, to see how often
the story of the blue jackal may be cited. Wigs were in-
flicted on our forefathers by a bald monarch, and we were
tortured by stiff cravats and high shirt-collars, because
another had the king's evil in his neek. Long skirts pro-
bably came in to hide a pair of ungainly feet, and hoopa
were introduced to make a queenly waist look smaller than
it was.
142 DRESS.
There is, however, a difference between the f rerogatire
of fashion and that of other despots. While we are bound
to yield a general obedience to his laws, we nave the right,
without a loss of caste, to disregard any which are mani-
festly absurd and inconvenient. If, for example, a fashion-
able of the present day, to whom nature had given an ugly
foot, were to follow the example of Fulk, Duke of Anjou
and introduce such long peaks to our boots that we could
not walk in them, we may be certain that their use would
riot survive a season, and would be confined to a class who
have little to do but look ornamental. It is certainly a
consolation to find that in the present day the fashions of
male attire are restricted, not as they once were, by royal
edicts, but by the common sense of men who know that
dress ought to be convenient as well as elegant. With
ladies it is otherwise. Woman is still too generally be-
lieved to have no higher mission than that of pleasing the
senses rather than the judgment of men, and so many
women of all classes are idle, that a fashion, however pre-
posterous, is more readily accepted and more universally
adopted by them than by the stronger sex. And this is
the case even when the reform proposed is obviously most
advantageous. How difficult, for instance, has it been to
abolish the stiff black hat and the throat-cutting collar,
though the wide-awake and the turned-down collar were at
once more graceful and more comfortable. How complete-
ly has the attempt to establish the " peg-top" been a fail-
ure, though every man of sense who values 1iis health must
feel that a loose covering is both more ooui-ortable and
more healthy than a tight sheathing of cloth. The fact is,
that there is a conservatism in fashion which has the ap-
pearance of being respectable, but is re:illy slavish and
APPROPRIATENESS. 143
silly ; and the weekly satirists who undertake to laugh
down its extravagances have not always the sense to ap-
preciate its wisdom. Those in fact who are most eager in
the blind attack on fashion, are often really its more ab
ject and least sensible servants. To condemn a new fash-
ion only because it is new, is contemptibly short-sighted ;
and the old wise gentlemen who sneer at " new-fangled fan-
cies" should first ascertain whether the innovation is for
the better or the worse.
But, after all, the changes of fashion are not sufficiently
rapid or violent in respect of men's dress, to make even
our grandfathers uncomfortable on account of their pecu-
liarity. If the hat-brim and coat-collar have lost what
was once considered a graceful curl, if huge shirt-collars
and stiff cravats have given way to a freer arrangement
for the neck, if blue swallow-tailed coats and brass buttons
have been succeeded by blue frocks without them, and buff
waistcoats with painfully tight appendices, by white waist-
coats and the liberty of the leg, the change is not great
enough to require a new race of tailors, or make old men
ridiculous even in our streets. But while an old nran in
an old fashion not only passes muster, but seems to acquire
additional respectability from the antiquity of his style, a
young man can scarcely adopt his grandfather's wardrobe
without risking a smile. I remember once taking a friend
of mine a country squire of one-and-twenty to dine
with some extremely fashionable but not very well-bred
bachelors: The appearance of my companion was decid-
edly antique ; for, conservative to the back and its cover-
ing, he prided himself on maintaining the style of hia
worthy progenitor. I saw that the eye-glasses were turned
on him with a look of mingled pity and contempt, and in
144
the course of dinner heard the following remarks pass
between the host and a guest :
" Pray, G ," asked a lisping be whiskered exquisite
of the former, " who is your fine old English gentleman ?
What style do you call it ? Rather George the Fourth
" Yes, rather," replied the host ; "but," he added in a
whisper, " he has just come in to 12,000 a year and
B Hall."
" Oh ! aw, indeed ! Then of course he can afford to
be eccentric."
This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress :
the first of which I shall take is appropriateness. The
age of the individual is an important consideration in this
respect ; and a man of sixty is as absurd in the style of
nineteen as my young friend in the high cravat of Brum-
mell's day. I know a gallant colonel who is master of
the ceremonies in a gay watering-place, and who, afraid of
the prim old-fashioned tournure of his confreres in simi-
lar localities, is to be seen, though his hair is grey and
his age not under five-and-sixty, in a light cut-away, the
"peg-top" continuations, and a turned-down collar. It
may be what younger blades will wear when they reach
his age, but in the present day the effect is ridiculous.
Wo may, therefore, give as a general rule, that after the
turning-point of life a man should eschew the changes of
fashion in his own attire, while he avoids complaining of
it in the young. In the latter, on the other hand, the ob-
servance of these changes must depend partly on his taste
and partly on his position. If wise, he will adopt with
alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace, the
ease, the healthfulness, and the convenience of his gar-
APPROPRIATENESS. 145
ments. He will be glad of greater freedom in the cut of
his cloth clothes, of boots with elastic sides instead of
troublesome buttons or laces, of the privilege to turn down
his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid as extrava-
gant, elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waist-
coat, and expensive buttons. On the other hand, what-
ever his age, he will have some respect to his profession
and position in society. , He will remember how much
the appearance of the man aids a judgment of his char-
acter, and this test, which has often been cried down, is
in reality no bad one ; for a man who does not dress ap-
propriately evinces a want of what is most necessary to
professional men tact and discretion. I could not, for
instance, feel confidence in a young physician dressed as
I am accustomed to see a guardsman ; while, if my law-
yer were a dandy in his office, I should be inclined to
think he knew more of gay society than of Coke upon
Lyttleton. The dress of the clergy is not an arbitrary
matter, yet I have seen ecclesiastics, who, abandoning the
white choker, lounge in an easy costume, little different
from that of their undergraduate days, and though it is
certainly hard to condemn a man for life to the miseries
of black cloth, we have a right to expect that he should
be proud rather than ashamed of the badge of his high
calling.
Position in society demands a like appropriateness.
Well knowing the worldly value of a good coat, I would
yet never recommend a man of limited means to aspire to
a fashionable appearance. In the first place, he becomes
thereby a walking falsehood ; in the second, he cannot,
without running into debt, which is another term for dis-
honesty, maintain the style he has adopted. As he can-
146 DRESS.
not afford to change his suits as rapidly as fashion alters
he must avoid following it in varying details. He will
rush into wide sleeves one month, in the hope of being
fashionable, and before his coat is worn out, the next
month will bring in a narrow sleeve. We cannot, unfor-
tunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak now-a-days
to the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, " long cloaks
being now quite out," as he tells us. Even when there
is no poverty in the case, our position must not be for-
gotten. The tradesman will win neither customers nor
friends by adorning himself in the mode of the club-
lounger, and the clerk, or commercial traveller, who dresses
fashionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his ante-
cedents, which he may not care to have investigated. In
general, it may be said that there is vulgarity in dressing
like those of a class above us, since it must be taken as a
proof of pretension.
I remember going to church in a remote little village
on the borders of Wales, and being surprised to see enter,
among the clodhoppers and simple folk of the place, 9
couple of young men dressed in the height of fashion, and
wearing yellow kid gloves and patent leather boots. On
inquiry I found them to be the sons of a rich manufactur-
er, who had himself been once a working man, and wag
residing in the neighborhood. I was not surprised, for
vulgar pretension was here carried out to the worst ex-
treme. Better-bred men would have known that, what-
ever their London costume, a difference must be made in
the country. The rule may be laid down that wherever
we are we should assimilate, as far as convenient, to the
customs and costumes of the place. While I had no wish
to see the sons of the parvenu appear in smock-frocks
TOWN AND COUNTRY. 147
and high-lows, I was reasonable in thinking that a rough
er style of dress would have been better, and this may be
said for the country generally. As it is bad taste to flaunt
the airs of the town among provincials, who know nothing
of them, it is worse taste to display the dress of a city iu
the quiet haunts of the rustics. The law which we haw
enunciated, that all attempts at distinction by means of
dress is vulgar and pretentious, would be sufficient argu-
ment against wearing London fashions in the country ; but
if this is not sufficient, we may picture the inconvenience
of such a measure under certain circumstances. Had a
shower of rain descended at the conclusion of the ser-
vice, our two young sprigs of gentility would have looked
superbly ridiculous in their thin boots and light gloves,
and no London hansom to take refuge in, to say nothing
of spoiling one's boots and catching cold.
While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress
is both admissible and desirable in the country, there are
many occcasions of country visiting where a town man
finds it difficult to decide. It is almost peculiar to the
country to unite the amusements of the daytime with
those of the evening ; of the open air with those of the
drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are
long, you will be asked to a pic-nic or an archery party,
which will wind up with dancing in-doors, and may even
assume the character of a ball. If you are aware of this
beforehand, 4t will always be safe to send your evening
dress to your host's house, and you will learn from the
servants whether others have done the same, and whether,
therefore, you will not be singular in asking leave to
change your costume. But if you are ignorant how the
day is to end. you must be guided partly by the hour of
148 DRESS.
invitation, and partly by the extent of your intimacy wita
the family. I have actually known gentlemen arrive at
a large pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening dress, and
pitied them with all my heart, compelled as they were to
suffer, in tight black clothes, under a hot sun for eight
hours, and dance after all in the same dress. On the other
hand, if you are asked to come an hour or two before sun-
set, after six in summer, in the autumn after five, you
cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always
taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance
with your hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiari-
ty to do otherwise. In any case you desire to avoid sin-
gularity, so that if you can discover what others who are
invited intend to wear, you can always decide on your
own attire. On the Continent there is a convenient rule
for these matters ; never appear after four in the after-
noon in morning dress ; but then grey trousers are there
allowed instead of black, and white waistcoats are still
worn in the evening. At any rate, it is possible to effect
a compromise between the two styles of costume, and if
you are likely to be called upon to dance in the evening,
it will be well to wear thin boots, a black frock-coat, and
a, small black neck-tie, and to put a pair of clean white
gloves into your pocket. You will thus be at least less
conspicuous in the dancing-room than in a light tweed suit.
Englishmen are undeniably the most conservative men
in the world, and in nothing do they show it more univer
sally than in maintaining their usual habits in any country,
clin.ate, or feason. L? Anglais en voyaye has been a
fruitful subject of ridicule both to our own and foreign
writers, and I shall therefore content myself with saying
that, while I would not have an Englishman adopt every
TKAVELLING.
local habit or every fantastic costume of those among whom
he finds himself, I would fain see him avoid that distinc-
tiveness in both which is set down by our neighbors to
pride and obstinacy. Excellent, for instance, is the cus-
tom of shaking hands, but it has on the Continent gene-
rally a much more friendly and particular signification, and
is permitted between the sexes only after a long intimacy.
In fact, a French jeune fille never takes a gentleman's
hand unless he is quite an<&m de la maison, so that for
an Englishman at a first visit to shake hands all round
amounts to a familiarity. I shall never forget the deep
crimson on the cheeks of a charming girl to whom I once
introduced an English friend, and who was too well-bred not
to touch his proffered hand, but did so with an air of un-
mistakable surprise. " Qu'est-ce quec'est que votre ami,''
she asked me afterwards ; " est-ce qu'il veut done m'em-
brasser?" To impose the manners of one's country on
the people of another, is as bad as to revive those of a
past century.
In the middle of the last century it was the custom for a
gentleman on entering a room, to kiss the ladies all round
on the cheek. Had not my French friend as much right
to blush, as any English young lady would if I were to
subject her to the practice of the charming but obsolete
custom ?
Can anything be more painfully ridiculous than an Eng-
lishman wearing a black silk hat and frock-coat of cloth
under the sun of the equator ? Yet such is our want of
sense, or our love of national costumes, however hideous,
that it is the etiquette in our colonies, whether in the tro-
pics or the arctic regions, to wear precisely the same stiff
hoc court dress as at St. James'. However this might be
153 DIIESS.
excused on tlie pica of uniformity in official dress, it is no
excuse for the fashion which imposes the coat, &c. of Pall
Mall on the gentleman of Calcutta or Colombo ; and the
same may be said of our own fashion of wearing clolh
clothes throughout the year. There is many a summer's
day in England as hot as any in Italy, and in general the
diiference between our summer and that of France and
America is, that there the heat is glaring and clear, with
us, if less powerful, close and oppressive. Why then
should my Lord Fashion permit the Frenchman and Yan-
kee to wear whole suits of white linen, and condemn us to
black cloth? Nothing can be neater or prettier, as mod-
ern dress goes, than the white coat, waistcoat, et cetera
with a straw hat and a bright blue tie ; but it is some-
thing to say against it, that London smoke would necessi-
tate a clean suit per diem, which would materially aug-
ment the washing expenditure of our metropolitan Beaux
Tibbses. The nearest approach we are allowed to make
to a sensible costume, on days when we should like to fol-
low Sidney Smith's advice, by the removal of our flesh
and sitting in our skeletons, is that of light thin tweeds,
but even these are not countenanced in St. James' and the
Park, and we must be content to take refuge in a white
waistcoat and the thinnest possible material for our frock-
coat. On the other hand, as our winters are never very
severe, we have only to choose thicker tweeds of a darker
color for that season, and the wrapper or great coat then
becomes not nearly so important an article as the indis
pensable umbrella. In this country, therefore, as present
fashions require, appropriateness to the season will bo
easily acquired by a change of material and color rather
than of form, in our apparel.
APPROPRIATENESS TO OCCASIONS. 151
Not so the distinction to be made according to size. As
a rule, tall men require long clothes some few perhaps
even in the nurse's sense of those words ana short men
short clothes. On the other hand, Falstaff should beware
of Jenny Wren coats and affect ample wrappers, while
Peter Schemihl, and the whole race of thin men, must
eschew looseness as much in their garments as their morals.
Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different occa-
sions, and as this is an important subject, I shall treat of
it separately. For the present it is sufficient to point out
that while every man should avoid not only extravagance,
but even brilliance of dress on ordinary occasions, there
are some on which he may and ought to pay more atten-
tion to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the
evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is
a fixed rule, from which we can depart only to be foppish
or vulgar ; but in morning dress there is greater liberty,
and when we undertake to mingle with those who are as-
sembled avowedly for gaiety, we should not make ourselves
remarkable by the dinginess of our dress. Such occasions
are open air entertainments, fites, flower-shows, archery-
meetings, matinees, and id genus omne. where much of
the pleasure to be derived depends on the general effect on
the enjoyers, and where, if we cannot pump up a look of
mirth, we should at least, if we go at all, wear the sem-
blance of it in oui dress. I have a worthy little friend,
who, I believe, is as well-disposed to his kind as Lord
Shaftesbury himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a
twinge of philosophy about him, frequents the gay meet-
ings to which he is asked in an old coat and a wide-awake.
Some people take him for a wit, but he soon shows that
he does not aspire to that character ; others for a philoso-
L52 DRESS.
pher, but he is too good-mannered for that ; others poor
man ! pronounce him a cynic, and all are agreed that
whatever he may be, he looks out of place and spoik the
general effect. I believe in my heart that he is the mild-
est of men, but will not take the trouble to dress more
than once a day. At any rate, he has a character for ec
centricity, which, I am sure, is precisely what he would
wish to avoid. That character is a most delightful one for
a bachelor and it is generally Coelebs who holds it, for it
has been proved by statistics that there are four single to
one married man among the inhabitants of our mad-houses ;
but eccentricity yields a reputation which requires some-
thing to uphold it, and even in Diogenes of the Tub it was
extremely -bad taste to force himself into Plato's evening
party without sandals, and nothing but a dirty tunic on
him.
Another requisite in dress is its simplicity, with which
I may couple harmony of color. This simplicity is the
only distinction which a man of taste should aspire to in
the matter of dress, but a simplicity in appearance must
proceed from a nicety in reality. One should not be
simply ill-dressed, but simply-well dressed. Lord Castle-
reagh would never have been pronounced the most distin-
guished man in the gay court of Vienna, because he wore
no orders or ribbons among hundreds decorated with a pro-
fusion of those vanities, but because besides this he was
dressed with taste. The charm of Brummell's dress was
its simplicity ; yet it cost him as much thought, time, and
care, as the portfolio of a minister. The rules of sim-
plicity, therefore, are the rules of taste. All extravagance,
all splendor, and all profusion, must be avoided. The colors,
in the first place, must harmonize both with our 'complexion
JEWELRY. 1T>3
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<j
clothes, and for my part I should rejoice to see the Knick-
erbocker style generally adopted.
Besides the ordinary occasions treated of before, there
are several special occasions requiring a change of dress.
Most of our sports, together with marriage (which some
people include in the sports), and going to court, come
under this head. Now with the exception of the last, the
less change we make the better in the present day, par-
ticularly in sports, where, if we are dressed with scrupu-
lous accuracy, we are liable to be subjected to a compari-
son between our clothes and our skill. A man who wear?
a red coat to hunt in, should be able to hunt, and not
sneak through gates or dodge over gaps. Of wedding-
dress and court-dress we shall speak in separate chapters
under the heads of " Marriage" and " The Court." But
a few remarks on dresses worn in different sports may be
useful. Having laid down the rule that a strict accuracy
of sporting costume is no longer in good taste, we can dis-
miss shooting and fishing at once, with the warning that
we must not dress well for either. An old coat with large
pockets, gaiters in one case, and, if necessary, large boots
in the other, thick shoes at any rate, a wide-awake, and
a well-filled bag or basket a,t the end of the day, make up
a most respectable sportsman of the lesser kind. Then
for cricket you want nothing more unusual than flannel
trousers, which should be quite plain, unless your club
has idopted some colored stripe thereon, a colored flannel
shirt of no very violent hue, the same colored cap, shoes
with spikes in them, and a great coat.
For hunting, lastly, you have to make more change, if
only to insure your own comfort and safety. Thus cord-
174 DRESS.
breeches and some kind of boots are indispensable. So
are spurs, so a hunting-whip or crop ; so too, if you do
not wear a hat, is the strong round cap that is to save
your valuable skull from cracking if you are thrown on
your head. Again, I should pity the man who would at-
tempt to hunt in a frock-coat or a dress-coat ; and a scarf
with a pin in it is much more convenient than a tie. But
beyond these you need nothing out of the common way,
but a pocketful of money. The red coat, for instance, is
only worn by regular members of a hunt, and boys from
Oxford who ride over the hounds and like to display their
" pinks." In any case you are better with an ordinary
riding-coat of dark color, though undoubtedly the red is
prettier in the field. If you will wear the latter, see that
it is cut square, for the swallow-tail is obsolete, and worn
only by the fine old boys who " hunted, sir, fifty years
ago, sir, when I was a boy of fifteen, sir. Those were
hunting days, sir ; such runs and such leaps." Again,
your " cords" should be light in color and fine in quality;
your waistcoat, if with a red coat, quite light too ; your
scarf of cashmere, of a buff color, and fastened with a
small simple gold pin : your hat should be old, and your
cap of dark green or black velvet, plated inside, and with
a small stiff peak, should be made to look old. Lastly,
for a choice of boots. The Hessians are more easily clean-
ed, and therefore less expensive to keep; the "tops" are
more natty. Brummell, who cared more for the hunting
dress than the hunting itself, introduced the fashion of
pipe-claying the tops of the latter, but the old origins
" mahoganies," of which the upper leathers are simply
polished, seem to be coming into fashion again.
We shall now pass to a subject which, in every respect,
HUNTING-COSTUME. 175
is a much largei and more delicate one ; larger in the
space it covers in the surface of the globe ; larger in the
number of items which go to make it up larger in the
expenditure it demands ; and larger in the respect of the
attention paid to it. If it takes nine tailors to make
a man, it must surely require nine women to make -a
thorough milliner
CHAPTER IV.
LADY'S DRESS.
* ; AH from being of the opinion expressed by Catharine
of Arragon, that "dressing time is murdered time," the
woman, we are apt to think, who has not some natural
taste in dress, some love of novelty, some delight in the
combination of colors, is deficient in a sense of the beauti-
ful. As a work of art, a well dressed woman is a study.
That a love of dress is natural in woman, and that it
has some great advantages, is so plain as to be scarcely
worth recording. It does not follow that it should engross
every other taste ; it is only the coquette's heart, which,
as Addison describes it, is stuffed with "aflame-colored
hood." From the days of Anne Boleyn, who varied her
dress every day, and who wore a small kerchief over her
round neck to conceal a mark thereon, and a falling sleeve
to hide her doubly-tipped little finger, dress has had its
place in the heart of Englishwomen. And it is as well
that it should do so ; for the dowdy, be she young or bs
she old, is sure to hear of her deficiencies from her hus-
band, if she has not already done so from brothers and
fancy cousins. Indifference and consequent inattention to
dress often show pedantry, self-righteousness, or indolence ;
and whilst extolled by the " unco gude" as a virtue, may
be noted as a defect. Every woman should, habitually,
make the best of herself. We dress out our receiving
rooms with natural flowers ; are their inmates to look in-
(176)
THE LOVE OF DRESS. 177
consistent with the drawing room over which they preside I
We make our tables gorgeous, or at ail events seemly,
with silver, glass and china ; wherefore should our wives
be less attractive than all around them ? Amongst th
rich and great, the love of dress promotes some degree of
exertion and display of taste in themselves, and fosters in-
genuity and industry in inferiors ; in the middle classes
it engenders contrivance, diligence, neatness of hand:
among the humbler it has its good effects. But in thus
giving a love of dress its due, the taste, the consistency,
and the practicability of dress are kept in view ; the de-
votion to dress which forms, in France, a " Science apart,"
and which occupies, it must be allowed, many, too many
an Englishwoman's head, is not only selfish, but contemp-
tible. So long as dress merely interests, amuses, occupies
only such time as we can reasonably allot to it, it is salu-
tary. It prevents women from indulging in sentiment ; it
is a remedy for maladies imaginaircs ; it somewhat re-
fines the tastes and the habits, and gives satisfaction and
pleasure to others.
Besides, an attention to dress is almost requisite in the
present state of society ; a due influence in which cannot
be attained without it. It is useful, too, as retaining,
even in the minds of sensible men, that pride in a wife's
appearance which is so agreeable to her, and which mate-
rially fades during the gradual decay of personal attrac-
tions. " No one looked better than my wife did to-night,"
is a sentence which one often rejoices to hear from the
lips of an honest hearted English husband, after a party
or a ball, how much soever we may doubt the soundness
of his decision.
But whilst the a Ivantages of a love of dress are ad-
8*
178 LADY'S DRESS.
Knitted, how mournfully we approach a consideration of
its perils. A l(*ve of dress, uncontrolled, stimulated ty
coquetry and personal vanity until it cancels every right
principle, becomes a temptation first and then a curse.
Not to expatiate upon the evils it produces in the way of
example, the envy an undue passion for and excess in dress
excites, the extortionate class of persons in the shape of
milleners and dressmakers it unduly enriches, and the
enormous expenses it is known to lead to when indulged
criminally, that is, to the detriment of better employments,
and beyond the compass of means, let us remember how
it implies selfishness and vanity, and causes remonstrances
and often reproaches from the person most likely to suffer
from his wife's indulgencies her husband.
Analyze the bill of a fashionable milliner when the
dresses, of which it comprises a fabulous reckoning, are
even only half worn out. What gauzes, and odds and
ends of lace, and trimmings, useless after a night or two's
wear, and flouncings and furbelows and yards of tulle il-
lusion it enumerates ! Tulle illusion, indeed ! all is il-
lusion ! and yet for this a husband's income is charged,
often at an inconvenience,. or a wife's allowance encum-
bered, or angry words engendered, or the family credit
impeached ; and, worse than all, charity and even justice
must be suppressed, on account of this claim from a mil-
liner as remorseless as she is fashionable, for these two
points are generally in the same ratio. Then there is
another evil ; it has been found that the indulgence in
personal luxury in women has an injurious effect on the mor-
al tone. It is in some natures the first symptom, if not
the cause, of a relaxation in virtue ; at all events, it is
often mistaken for such. A woman of simple habitSj ac-
LUXUKY AND EXTRAVAGANCE. 179
companied with nicety and good taste, rarely goes wrong;
at any rate is rarely supposed to do so. Luxury in dress
at first an indulgence, becomes a necessity : discontent, a
sense of humiliation, and a yearning for what cannot be
had, are the eifects of that withdrawal of the power of
extravagance which so often happens in this changing and
commercial country.
We used to point to America as the country in which
excessive dress was a reproach ; the rich silks, the foreign
lace, the black satin shoes, and the decollee evening dress
of the fair inhabitants of New York, even in Broadway,
are themes of comment to us all. We used to wonder at
the French dame du monde, who gives six hundred pounds
for her set of winter sables. Instances are not wanting,
either, in Vienna and Bavaria, of ladies who spend seven
or eight hundred a year on dress, independent of jewelry.
It is remarked in Paris, that habits of luxe in every shape,
but especially in dress, have come in with the present re-.
gime. The old Legitimist families, though habitually and
innately studious in dress, prided themselves on their ele-
gant simplicity, as distinguishing them from bourgeoisie
The Court of Louis Philippe was remarkable for its home-
liness ; and the Queen and the Duchess of Orleans set
an example of a noble superiority to the vanities of life.
.Few carriages were kept, comparatively ; and where la-
dies cannot have carriages, they must dress plainly in the
streets. But with the marriage of Louis Napoleon, the
Empress has, probably without intending it, been the
originator of extreme richness and variety in dress ; and
the contamination has spread to England. Never did
women require so much. Every lady, and even every
lady's maid, must now have her petticoats edged with
180 LADY'S DRESS.
work. Tlie cost of pocket-handkerchiefs is something
marvellous ; the plain fine cambric, than which nothing
is more appropriate, or more agreeable, is only fit for our
inferiors. Cuffs, collars, jabots, chemisettes, are a genus
that half ruin a lady of moderate means. Until lately,
flounces went into such extremes that it required twenty
or two-and-twenty yards to make a dress for the wife of a
hard working physician or lawyer ; but, happily, the ex-
cess has cured itself. France, in returning good sense,
now decrees that everything shall be plain. Trimmings,
that snare to the unwary, out of which' dressmakers made
fortunes, and husbands lost them, are put down. How
long this salutary change may continue no one can tell ;
but a woman of sense should be superior to all these va-
riations. She should keep within the bounds of the
fashion. Sho should not dress out that perishable piece
of clay with money wrung from the hands of an anxious,
laborious husband ; or taken, if her husband be a man of
fortune, from his means of charity.
The proportion of what amongst the great we call pin-
money, and amongst their inferiors an allowance for dress,
is a very difficult matter to decide. Consistency, in regard
to station and fortune, is the first matter to be considered.
A lady of rank, the mother of three beautiful, ill-fated
daughters, is reported " to be able to do" with two thou-
sand a year for dress ! A monstrous sum ; a monstrous
sin so to spend it ! When we look into the details of a
recent bankruptcy case, in which the items of the Tamoua
Miss Jane Clark's bills for the dresses of two fashionable,
and we must add most blamable, women were exposed, the
secret of these enormous sums for dress is revealed. It
consists in reckless orders, and their results, fabulous
ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 18.1
prices. A lady once followed the late excellent Princess
Augusta into the rooms of a Court milliner. Having
waited until that illustrious lady had retired, it was tiro:
for the humbler customer to make her selection. She asked
the price of a dress, apologizing therefor, for she was much
impressed by the royal and dignified aspect which had pre-
ceded her. " Don't make any apology, ma'am," was the
Court milliner's exclamation ; " her Royal Highness never
orders an article without asking the price ; and I always
like to receive ladies who ask prices it shows that the^
intend to pay."
The cost therefore of dress depends so much on the pru
ilence as well as on the discrimination of a lady, for she
should know how to choose her dress, that it is difficult to
lay down any rule of expenditure. For married women
of rank, five hundred a year ought to be the maximum ; a
hundred a year the minimum (and there are many peers
who cannot easily afford to give their wives even so much).
The wives of ministers, and more especially of diplomatists,
who require to appear frequently either in foreign courts,
or in our own, may require five hundred, or even more,
though I am persuaded very few of our ambassadorial ladiea
have so much to spend.
With regard to unmarried women, what a revolt amongst
them there would be if old Lord Eldon were now alive to
lay down, as he did, as a maxim, that forty pounds a year
was enough for any girl not of age, even if she had large
expectations ; and that was all he allotted to a ward of
Chancery, who was heiress to five thousand a year. It
was, perhaps, too little. In a trial, in which a celebrated
barrister, who had an extravagant wife, was sued for dress-
makers' bills for his reckless spc use, the judge stated that
182 LADY'S DRESS.
sixty pounds a year was an ample allowance for the wife
of a professional man, and beyond that bills could not be
recovered. That was essential : more was extravagance.
Certainly these legal authorities were moderate in their
views ; especially as no women are so extravagant none so
luxurious, generally, as.the ^ ives of successful barristers.
The Times, whose range and power seem to resemble
the elephant's trunk that can pick up a pin or crush a man,
in a late sensible and amusing "leader," made a remark
which will comfort struggling professional men, and, gen-
erally, be thankfully received by all who need some au-
thority to aid in keeping the milliner's bill within due
bounds. It was simply to the effect that a tasteful, care-
ful lady, with the start of a .moderately good trousseau,
ought (and many do) to make twenty pounds a year suffice
for the dress of herself and children during the first few
years of married life, and this without any compromise of
respectability.
Much, however, depends on management, much on the
care taken of dress. In these respects the French are in-
finitely our superiors. . Even the grandes dames of Paris
are not intimidated by their maids into throwing away a
half- worn dress ; on the contrary, everything is turned to
account. On entering the apartment of a couturi&re one
day, a lady was struck by the elegance of ribbon trimming
on a court-train. The couturiers smiled, and pointed to
an old dress from which the still unsoiled ribbon had been
taken. This was to be the dress, and the lady saw it the
next night at the Tuileries. and knew it at once ; in this
the sister of a Due and Marshal of France, herself a
Countess, appeared. We should find it impossible to get
-my mantua-maker to perform such an act of virtuous econ-
ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 183
omy in favor of an English customer. The due care of
dress is also a great point towards a reasonable economy.
In England, ladies think it becoming their dignity to be
indifferent to the preservation of their dresses when on.
In France the reverse is carried to an excess. " I once
followed," said a lady, " a French lady in her carriage, aa
we both went to the same party. Her dress was composed
of an exquisite tulle, with puffings of the same light ma-
terial. She stood up in her carriage the whole way, for
fear of crushing it."
Whatever may be thought of this over-care of the dress
in the higher classes, the habit of conservativeness is of
vast importance to women in the middle class, and yet,
strange to say, it is less common in them than among the
great. Old families are mostly conservative of personali-
ties ; it is a remarkable feature in them, and to it we owe
those relics of times long gone by, which, had they been
new in the present day, would have been deemed scarcely
worth the preservation.
But whilst too much cannot be said against extravagance
and destructive ness, it must also be stated, under the head
of the minor virtues, the wonderful art some people have
of making a good appearance on small means. " A man's
appearance," says the good, old-fashioned, sensible Spec-
tator, "falls within the censure of every one that sees
him ; his parts and learning very few are judges of." So,
in regard to women. No stranger knows the heart that
' beats beneath an ill-made gown, or the qualities of head
that lie hidden beneath a peculiar old-fashioned, or hideous
cap. A woman may be an angel of goodness, a Minerva
in wisdom, a Diana in morals, a Sappho in sentiment, yet
if she wears a soiled dress where all around are in new
184
and fresh dresses, or has an ill arranged bonnet or head-
dress, esteem, even affection, will not resist a smile or a
sigh ; and the mere acquaintance will have every right to
jeer at what seems to imply an ignorance of the habits of
good society.
Next in injury to her who practises extravagance of i
dress, is extravagance in fashion. From the middle ages
the English ladies have been bad dressers. Witness Queen
Mary when married to Philip n. of Spain, spoiling the
effect of a superb wedding-dress, in the French style, by
wearing a black scarf and scarlet shoes, which, it has been
sarcastically observed, was worse than burning Protestants.
During the last century head-dresses rose to a stupendous
height, each lady carrying on her head a tower composed of
a cushion, on which the hair was drawn back, and clubbed
or rolled on the top of the neck. On this fabric were
arranged feathers, flowers, pearls dangling in loops, rib-
bons, and old point lace. Sometimes a tiny mob-cap was
stuck on one side ; the whole was so immense that even the
huge family coaches were too small, and the ladies usually
sat with their heads bunging out of the window of the car-
riage. Powder was a main ingredient, and hair-dressing
was indeed a science. On great occasions the hair-dresser
waited on our fair ancestresses betimes ; belabored their
tresses with the powder-puff, and, with what looked like
the end of a candle, a pomatum-stick, until no trace of
nature could peep out to mar the belle. Then he placed
the cushion, sticking it on with long pins of wire ; next
he struck here and there the bows, or feathers, or flowers.
After an hour's torture, in which neither back must, be
bent, nor head moved, he left her, not to repose, but to sit
as if in a rice until the patches or mouches were stuck on
EXTIIAVAGANCE IN FASHION. 185
skilfully ; the tight corsets drawn to an agony point ; the
pointed and heeled shoes put on over the well-pricked silk
stocking ; and the dress that could have stood alone, com-
posed over a fortification of strong whale-bone that sprung
out a great circumference, being a series of bands, regu-
lated by a spring, aud constituting that great feature of
full dress the hoop.
In Paris, there was a champion of low heads in the
person of a Swiss, who, not being able to see over these
turrets of heads at the grande opera, used to cut away,
as one does at evergreens, right and left, in order to clear
away the view. At last, the ladies, in dismay, and alarm-
ed at his scissors, gave him up a front place ; but, even-
tually, the ridicule thus cast on the mode banished it, or
helped to do so, and a less absurd coiffure came into vogue.
The art of placing patches on the face and neck was of
earlier origin, and came in during the reign of Charles n.
It was of French origin ; and Henrietta of Orleans, the
sister of the King, was amongst the first to display mouches
or patches at court. This time even Mrs. Pepys was per-
mitted by her husband to wear them ; and the vanity of
the ci-devant tailor spoke forcibly in these words : " The
Princess Henrietta is very pretty ; but my wife, standing
near her, with two or three black patches on, and well-
dressed, still seems to me much handsomer than she."
Patches long held their reign ; and went out only with
rouge, having even survived the reign of powder.
At length a more natural taste dawned in England ; but
it was reserved for Mrs. Siddons first to appear on the
stage without powder, and her own rich dark hair arranged
in massive tresses on her fine head.
Towards the beginning of the present century came in
186 LADY'S DRESS.
the extremes of tight dresses and short waists. The skirts
of dresses were made as scanty as possible, and gored, that
is, made much wider at the base than at the top. There
was an inch of sleeve, and two inches of boddice. It waa
impossible not to be indelicate, unless you put on what was
called a "modesty-piece," or tucker, formed of lace or
worked muslin ; even then the requisite propriety was al-
most unattainable. As to the hair, that was drawn up to
the top of the head, and two or three curls worn in front,
just above the eyebrows. Since hoops had been outra-
geous, and head-dresses had obstructed the view of Hei
Majesty's liege subjects, society thus revenged herself.
Politics, too, at that time influenced fashion. Then came
the Brutus crop, in which style many of our fair ances-
tresses are depicted ; this was in compliment to the Roman
heroism of the First Consul, Bonaparte, and was caught
up in England. Small Leghorn hats, like men's hats, were
all the vogue, and were in their turn displaced for high-
crowned bonnets with an inch or two of poke, which yield-
ed, in due course, to the cottage-bonnet, or capite.
The hair at this "time was getting higher and higher,
until, about twenty years ago, it reached the giraffe a
bow of hair, or two, or even three bows raised on trian-
gular pins made on purpose, and fastened skillfully into
the hair ; over this rose the bow called in compliment to
the first appearance of two giraffes in this country the
giraffe bows. Their reign was short, and the hair sank
down to the very extreme, and ringlets, which reached the
very waist, and plaits low down in the neck behind, suc-
ceeded. There was a transient reign of the Oldenburg
bonnet, introduced by the beautiful Duchess of Oldenburg
when she visited this country in 1818. This bonnet waa
CHANGES OF FASHION. 187
nothing more nor less, than a coal-scuttle in straw ; and
turned up round the rim ; it was tremendously warm to
wear ; and caricatures were drawn at the time showing a
gentleman's difficulty in making love to his inamorata,
whose face was enclosed in the Oldenburg bonnet. The
effect of a number of these bonnets collected in a small
space was ludicrous. A very pretty simple cottage, after,
all the best style, succeeded the Oldenburg. About 1821
the gored skirts gave place to those slightly gathered, or
plaited round the figure. There was a perfect revolt against s
this fashion ; many elegant women heading the malcontents.
Happily they were obliged to yield, and the loose and full
flowing dresses came into fashion, and kept their place,
after a disgraceful interregnum of very short petticoats,
only not showing the knees; which extreme, it is believed,
induced the adoption of full and long skirts.
With occasional deviations, the form of the dress haa
not very greatly varied since the grand revolution which
discarded gores, until that counter-agitation which brought!
in crinolines. This innovation is well exemplified by
merely recalling the degeneracy in costume of the Impe-
rial arbitress of fashion who introduced it. At one of the
Tuileries balls in 1852, a young Spanish lady was the
theme of all tongues. She was dressed in white, with a
beautiful circlet of black velvet on her head ; on this circlet
were stars of diamonds. The hair, blond doree ; the brow,
alabaster ; the somewhat melancholy eyes, with their long
lashes, the regular but rather rigid pupil, were justly ad-
mired. Mademoiselle de Montijo, as she then was, was
sparkling with happiness ; the Emperor, that general who
has since well-nigh dethroned Austria, yet, spared Venice,
bad that night signified his intention of making Eugenie
188 LADY'S DRESS.
de Montijo Empress of France, by placing on her head a
white flower; she was radiant with excitement.
Her figure, however, was the subject of all praise. It
was slight, and perfectly well dressed. The dress was
tight in the corsage, and full, moderately full, in the skirt.
Since then, what a change ! That small, but matchless
form, far more remarkable for grace than for dignity comes
forth encumbered, unnaturally enlarged, and indeed de-
formed with an excess of fulness which can only be sup-
ported by a device which in principle is the grandchild of
the hoop. As she walks, the petticoats shake about, and
the artifice underneath is revealed. The Empress is there ;
but the beautiful tournure of Eugenie de Montijo is lost
in the mass of bouffons and flounces over the invisible
though protruding crinoline. The infatuation has spread
from the palace to the private house ; thence even to the
cottage. Your lady's maid must now. needs have her crin-
oline, and it has even become an essential to factory girls.
The smart young needlewoman has long thought that
neither she, nor any one else, could appear without it.
That there are some advantages in this modern fashion,
cannot be denied. On State occasions it gives importance,
shows off a dress, and preserves it from trailing on the
floor. For walking, it has the recommendation of keeping
the dresses out of the dirt ; which may to some extent
compensate for the very unpleasant and visible effect of
''carrying one's tails behind one." since the skirt often
shakes about as if there was a balloon around the person.
Otherwise, the crinoline is unnatural as some wear it, in-
delicate and cumbersome, and gives an appearance of
width below that is pefectly frightful. Now, however, the
excess, seems abating. As if to make the contrast greater,
CRINOLINE. 189
those who *o expand below, do not hesitate, in many in-
stances, to contract above, by tight lacing ; but this also
is a custom that has very much decreased of late years.
Formerly, instances were frequently known of young ladies
nearly perishing under the self-imposed torture of what
may not be inaptly called the waist-screw. A physician
at dinner one day with his family, was summoned by
knocks and rings to a house in the same street, where there
had been a dinner party. The ladies had just retired to
the drawing-room, when, suddenly, the youngest and fair-
est of them fell fainting back into her chair. Restoratives
were applied, but consciousness did not return. The phy-
sician came ; he was an aged and practical man, well
versed in every variety of female folly. He took out his
penknife ; the company around thought he was going to
bleed the still unconscious patient. " Ha, this is tight
lacing!" he suddenly said ; and adding, lt no time to be
lost," he cut open the boddice of the dress ; it opened, and,
with a gush, gave the poor young lady breath ; the heart
had been compressed by tight lacing, and had nearly ceas-
ed to act. In another moment it would have been too late ;
the action of the heart would have ceased altogether.
It has been found, also, that the liver, the lungs, the
powers of the stomach, have been brought into a diseased
state by this most pernicious habit. Loss of bloom, fixed ?
redness in the nose, eruptions on the skin, are among it?
sad effects. If prolonged, there is no knowing to what
malady tight lacing may not te,ad ; its most apparent
effect is an injured digestion, and consequent loss of ap
petite. Of this, however, it is often difficult to convince
the practised tight-lacer ; for vanity is generally obstinate.
No girl should wear bones or steels until she has done
100 LADY'S DRESS.
growing. Until then a boddice, close-fitting, but not
tight, or even a mere flannel waistcoat, is all that shculd
be allowed, if a mother wishes to avoid seeing her child
with a curved spine. During the reign of tight lacing,
and of stays so stiff, that when spread out they resembled
a board in texture, seven women in ten were crooked.
Whole families leaned on one side or the other. " You
are no worse than your neighbors," was the common ex-
pression of any surgeon called in to attend in a case of
curvature of the spine. That is not the case now, to
nearly such an extent..
But looking at tight lacing without consideration of its
effect on health, and merely as its tendency to improve or
to injure the appearance, nothing can be more absurd than
to believe that it is advantageous to the figure. A very
small waist is rather a deformity than a beauty. To see
the shoulders cramped and squeezed together, is anything
but agreeable ; the figure should be easy, well developed,
supple : if Nature has not made the waist small, compres-
sion cannot mend her work. Dress may do much to les-
sen the awkward appearance of a thick waist by clever
adaptations ; by the use of stays both easy and well fit-
ting ; by a little extra trimming on the shoulders, which
naturally makes the waist appear smaller. All this may
be done without injury ; no stays can answer the purpose
so well as those made by a good French stay-maker, who
has the art of taking a sort of model of the figure by the
extreme exactness of her measurements. The stays are
made single, and therefore fit better than double ones ;
they give with every movement. Those lately introduced,
which fasten at nce, are not so advantageous to the fig-
ure as the old fashioned plan of lacing behindj but are
HOW IAR FASHION MAY BE FOLLOWED, 191
admirable in point of convenience and despatch. By their
aid, elderly ladies who have not dressed themselves, but
have been dressed by a maid for years, have become inde-
pendent; a great benefit to health and despatch. The
slight exertion of dressing one's-self, the gentle exercise
it induces after repose, the excellent habit of order, and
the necessity it imposes of throwing off the thoughts, that
may perhaps too much have occupied the mind during the
hours of a wakeful night, render the operation of dressing
to those in fair health, a very salutary exertion.
It is often disputed how far ladies are justified in fol-
lowing the fashion of the day ; how far they could be
praised or blamed for conforming or for resisting the influ-
ences around them in that respect. To adopt the prevail-
ing fashion, but not carry it to excess, seems the most ra-
tional line of conduct ; none but a great beauty, or a per-
son of any exalted rank, can deviate, and hope to escape
ridicule, from what fashion has introduced. Even in the
.^knowledged beauty, there is a presumption in doing so.
Yet there were during the last reign three lively sisters,
all now ennobled by marriage, who, at Court, when all
were crowned with plumes, then worn like a crest on the
head, nine or twelve in number, went to the drawing-rooms
with a small feather on either side, and without diamonds :
it was a courageous feat, but the effect was good, and pro-
duced, some thought, the reduction of plumes at Court.
A reasonable and tasteful acquiescence in the rapid
changes if not too rapid in the modes of dress, is sen-
sible and convenient. No single individual can success-
fully oppose the stream of fashion. Everything that is
peculiar in dress is, we are convinced, more or less objec-
tionable. Dr. Johnson was praising a ladv for being very
192
LADY S DRESS.
well dressed. "I am sure she was well dressed." he
iterated, " for I cannot remember what she had on.'
Now, had not the lady's dress been modern in the fashioi
he would have been struck with some anomaly, some
culiarity, in form or colors The general effect was
mirable ; what more could be wished ? details are impor-
tant to the dress-maker and to the tailor : it is effect that
tells on society. Too much importance cannot be assigned
to the harmony of colors. No nation in this respect offends
so greatly as the English : they mistake gaudiness for effect,
or dowdiness for elegance. When full colors are in fash-
ion, a lady, however well dressed, 1 will look ill if she ad-
heres to the delicate pinks and almost invisible blues which
prevailed some years since, lovely as those pure and soft
shades are. She will, however, require an artist's eye to
combine the more glowing shades skilfully, in order to es-
cape being the parroquet of the company. A certain
duchess, noted for the magnificence in which her stately
person is arrayed so stately is it, as to bear down even
royalty itself in queenly dignity is so aware of the im-
portance of combining colors well, that one of her fem-
?nes de chambre is a " combination maid," selected on ac-
count of her judgment in colors ; thus, every toilette for
the day or night is submitted by her ; the shawl is affront-
ed with the gown; the bonnet is made to suit with both
The wreath of flowers is to be in keeping with the rich
boddice, the boddice with the sweeping train; the rich
jewelry, taken from a casket almost unparalleled nmong
the subjects of any country, must not eclipse, but heighten
the tints of the dress : the whole is placed for inspection,
as an artist dresses up a lay figure ; and the repute of the
combination-maid is staked on the result. White was that
MORXING DRESS. 193
gorgeous lady's favorite attire ; white, scarce purer thai?
the face, " call it pale, not fair ;" white, which " com-
bines" with everj hue, ornament, or flowers : but the
loveliness may now have fled before the approach of time,
and rich colors have been selected as the appropriate tints
for that middle age which is so beautiful in English women,
and in English women alone.
After these general remarks, let us come to particulars,
and consider what, in modern days, are the different dresses
appropriate to every different occasion in the higher and
middle classes of life. It is true that the distinction be-
tween these is, in many respects, nullified ; that the wifo
of the merchant dresses much in the same way on ordinary
occasions as the peeress : still there are nevertheless dis-
tinctions.
The peeress, or the baronet's lady, or the wife of a
minister, or of arf opulent M. P., of a very wealthy com-
moner, should, when she appears dressed for the morning,
be richly dressed. Silk, or, if in winter, some material
trimmed with silk or velvet, should compose her dress.
All that family of half- worsted and half-silk dresses, con-
venient for ladies who walk much, are unsuitable to mat-
rons of rank and fortune. Let them leave them to their
housekeepers (if their housekeepers will wear them).
Rich dark silks, perfectly well fitting, ample in skirt and
length, with a moderate bastion of crinoline underneath,
suit the woman of rank. The basque, introduced by the
Empress Eugenie, and now gone out of fashion, was pecu-
liarly elegant in morning dress : is marked so completely
the difference between the mornin'g and evening costume ;
it is becoming to most figures ; it is convenient for those
like to fasten their own dresses. It is, however, dis-
9
194
LADY'S DRESS.
continued, and a far less elegant form of dress adopted,
The morning dress of the present day is worn close up
to the throat, and the sleeves are loose and large ; so that
underneath them, sleeves, richly worked, or trimmed with
lace, may be seen hanging down, or fastened round the
wrist with a bracelet. The fashion of these morning
dresses varies continually ; but, as a general principle,
they should be, for a person moderately embonpoint : , made
to fit and show off the figure perfectly. The accompani-
ments of sleeves, collars, should be of the most delicate
and richest work ; the lace choice ; the lady of rank must
remember that imitations of lace are not suitable to those
who can encourage art and industry ; a lady must also be
bien chaussee. If stockings are visible, they should be
of the finest silk or thread ; the shoe well made, slight,
and somewhat trimmed ; the fashion of wearing gloves in-
doors, or even mittens, has much died away lately. The
hand, if exposed, should be habitually well taken care of.
Nothing is so unlady-like as a hand that is either rough,
or has become sun-burnt, in which case gloves should be
used. Too many rings are vulgar. Those worn in the
morning should be of a solid kind, not pearls or diamonds,
which appertain to full dress ; but enamel, plain gold, opal,
perhaps sapphire, carbuncle, may not be inconsistent with
'morning dress, and the same observation may be applied
to the brooch.
There is another style of morning dress which is ele-
gant, that of the peignoir, a loose robe, which admits of
great richness of texture ; it may be of Cashmere or of
ne Merino ; it may be made out of a shawl ; of anything
but silk, which is more appropriate to gowns ; but this
dress is scarcely suitable to any but the early morning
MORNING DRESS. 195
hours, and ceases to be consistent in the gay afternoons of
a London life, when the drawing-room is filled with callers.
The morning coiffure, be it a cap, or be it the dressing
of the hair, should be simple, compact, neat. The hair,
when dressed, should be becomingly but somewhat mas-
sively disposed. When it is rich and full, a very slight
head-dress of Mechlin or Lisle lace, for married women,
at the back of the head, is becoming ; when thin and weak,
a cap should be worn with ribbon coming down in front.
Nothing looks so bad as thin hair, underneath which the
head is discernible in the day-time. Every ornament on
the head is in bad taste in the morning ; one views with
horror huge gold pins, or would-be gold, corresponding to
ear-rings of the same false description. The peril of being
induced to wear ornaments so meretricious, is, however,
more to be dreaded in that class of society below the peeress's
rank, with which it is particularly inconsistent. The
French ladies are models of dress when they hold their
morning receptions. Everything they wear is the best of
its kind. The few ornaments they permit themselves are
more elaborate and valuable than dazzling, everything an-
nouncing, as plainly as if it had been written on their
doors, that they are in demie toilette. The perfect agree-
ment of their dress with the hour and the occasion, is the
secret of its almost invariable success.
The same rules apply to walking dress, which should be
^uiet in color, simple, substantial, and, above all, founded
on the science of combination. To see a bonnet adorned
with crimson flowers, worn with a bright lilac dress ; green
with scarlet, blue with plum, are sad departures from the
rules of combination. In a town, even when, according
to the time of the day, or time of the year, a walking
196 LADY'S DRESS.
dress should be simple, there should still be some degree
of richness in the dress.
The very dowdy and common-looking style of drcsa
should be avoided ; there should always be visible, through
every change, the lady. Some of our ladies of rank, it
must be allowed, though maintaining well the characterise
tics of grandes dames in society, are negligent in theii
walking dress, and seem to consider that it is only neces-
sary to put on their dignity when they dress for dinner.
For the country, the attire should be tasteful and solid
and strong. The bonnet may still, though plain, and per-
haps of straw or whalebone, be becoming. The hat, now
so prevalently used, admits of some decoration, that gives
both character and elegance. Worn almost universally on
the Continent in summer, and now in England, it is the
most sensible as well as the most picturesque covering for
the head ; long feathers, even in the most tranquil scenes,
are not inappropriate. Cloaks, of a light material for sum-
mer, and stout in the winter, are more elegant and suita-
ble than shawls, which belong rather to the carriage or
visiting dress. One point of dress has been much amend-
ed lately, owing to the good sense of our Queen. It was
formerly thought ungenteel to wear anything but thin
Morocco shoes, or very slight boots in walking. Clogs
and goloshes were necessarily resorted to. " The genteel
disease," as Mackenzie calls it, has, however, yielded to
the remedies of example. Victoria has assumed the Bal-
moral petticoat, than which, for health, comfort, warmth,
and effect, no invention was ever better. She has coura-
geously accompanied it with the Balmoral boot, and even
with the mohair and colored stocking. With these, and
the warm cloak, the looped dresses, the shady hat, and, to
FULL DINNER DRES& 197
complete a country walking dress, soft gloves of the kind
termed gants de silcle, the high born lady may tnjoy the
privileges which her inferiors possess she may take a
good walk with pleasure and safety, and not shiver at the
ispect of a muddy lane.
Next, in the description of a lady's dress, comes the
carriage, or visiting dress. This should be exceedingly
handsome ; gayer in color, richer in texture than the
morning dress at home. The bonnet may either be aa
simple as possible, or as rich ; but it must not encroach
upon that to be worn at a fcte, a flower-show, or a morn-
ing concert. It must still be what the "French call " un
chapeau de fatigue" A really good shawl, or a mantle
trimmed with lace, are the concomitants of the carriage, or
a visiting dress in winter. In summer all should be light,
cool, agreeable to think of, pleasant to look at. Nothing
can be in worse taste than to keep on, till it makes one
feverish to look at it, the warm clothing of winter after
winter and even spring have passed away. Then light
scarfs, of which those worn in muslin are very elegant,
delicate muslins, slight silks, and grenadines, are infinite-
ly more suitable, although they are less expensive, to sum-
mer and its bright hours than the heavy artillery of
cashmeres and velvets, be they ever so handsome.
The ordinary evening costume at home admits of great
taste an 1 becomingness. In some great houses it differs
little from that assumed at large dinner-parties, except
that ornaments are less worn. In France, the high dress
is still worn at dinners, even those of full dress. In Eng-
land, that custom, often introduced, never becomes gene-
ral ; there is no doubt but that a low dress is by far the
most beconrng, according to age, complexion, and the styl*
198 LADY'S DRESS.
of the house a point always to be taken into considera-
tion. Yet I should restrict this to dinners by candle-light.
In summer a thin high dress, at any rate, is more con-
venient and more modest. Since there is something in
exposing the bare shoulders and arms to the glare of day,
that startles an observer, the dcmic toilette of the French
may here be well applied. The hair should now be fully
dressed, and with care ; flowers may be worn by the
young ; caps with flowers by the elder ; ornaments, espe-
cially bracelets, are not inconsistent ; the dress should be
of a texture that can bear inspection, not flimsy and inex-j
pensive, but good, though not heavy. The same rules
may be applied to the ordinary costume in an evening at
home, except that the texture may be lighter. For all
these occasions a lady of rank arid fortune should have
her separate dresses. She should not wear out her old
ball or dinner dresses by her fireside and in intimate cir-
cles. They always have a tawdry, miserable look. She
should furnish herself with a good provision for the demie
toilette. Nothing is so vulgar as finery out of place.
The full dinner-dress, in England, admits, and indeed,
in the present days of luxury, demands great splendor.
The dress may be blue, silver-grey, crimson, maize, lav-
ender, or (but rare) very pale green ; pink is suitable
alone to balls ; it may be of any thick texture of silk in
vogue ; but in the fashion it must be. The dinner dresses
that last for ever are detestable. Trimmings of Brussels
lace, or of Mechlin, or of Maltese, are preferable to blonde
or tulle, which are for balls and soirees. The dress should
be made in the newest fashion ; therefore no rule can be
set down, except that for state dinners it should be long,
and fresh, and sweeping. At large dinners, diamonds
FULL DINNER DRESS. 199
may be worn, but only in a brooch, or pendai.t from tlie
throat ; a full suite of diamonds is suitable to very full
dress alone. The same rule applies to emeralds, but not
to pearls. Rows of pearls, confined by a diamond snap,
are beautiful in every dress. They suit either the demie
toilette, or the stately solemn dinner. If flowers be worn,
they should be of the very choicest ; ladies have so much
"me to examine and to criticise after dinner, that too
much care of minutiae cannot be taken ; if but a rose, it
should be from the very first hand. The fan, to be con-
sistent, should also be first-rate ; it may be old, and paint-
ed after the .manner of the exquisite fans in France, for
which one pays as high as twenty pounds ; or it may be
a mere invention of the day ; but it must be perfect in
its way. Nothing is so inimical to appearance as an ill-
made or soiled glove. There is such a wonderful mixture
of economy and prodigality in the highest classes of En-
glish society, that it is not uncommon to see ladies, re-
splendent in jewelry, with dirty gloves : in France, to
which we have, in all ages, looked as to a model, such a
barbarism could never occur. Every trifle in a lady's
costume is perfect. She would rather go out in a shabby
gown than in a collar of false lace, or with dirty gloves,
or begrimed white satin shoes. It is not so in England ;
^adies who spend pounds upon a cap or a scarf, will hesi-
tate before they put on a clean pair of gloves. Dinner-
parties are so often the prelude only, in London, to the
festivities of the evening, that no strict rules as to dress
can be set down. Generally speaking, there is a great
difference between the dinner-dress and that of the ball.
A concert, on the other hand, or the opera, requires onty
the head to be somewhat more adorned than at a dinner
200 LADY S DRESS.
and yet there was a fashion, several years since, of ap-
pearing even at the Italian opera in the simple toilette of
a small dinner party. The sortie du bal, or short eve-
ning cloak, is one of the best modern suggestions for the
health, and even appearance, of those who attend public
places or enter into gay society. It should be of white
merino, not of scarlet, which spoils the effect of the wreath
of flowers. All complicated trimmings are inconsistent ;
but the same rule of perfect freshness and cleanliness in
respect to gloves is applicable to the sortie du bal. I am
sorry to say it is violated every night : rows of ladies are
to be seen with resplendent gems in their hair, waiting for
their carriages, in sorties du bal that are almost gray from
the effects of London smoke. The striking relief and the
contrast produced by one or two clean and fresh cloaks of
this description is quite singular, and proves the truth of
the above recommendation. And here let us marvel
against the wonderful misplaced economy that will not
permit an English lady to indulge in a new sortie dn bal
" this season," whilst she is, at the same time, lavishing
sums upon all the endless et ceteras which Englishwomen
of the nineteenth century cannot do without.
At one of the most brilliant balls at the Hotel de Ville
in Paris, an order was given for the company, who were
to be numbered on that occasion by thousands, to wait in
relays on the grand staircase leading to the reception-
rooms, until a certain hour of the night or rather morn-
ing. This order was to prevent a rush to the carriages,
and the danger incident to such a concourse wishing to
leave at the same time. The ladies sat for an hour or
more on that ample and matchless staircase, to the right
of which was the artificial pool of water, surrounded by
BALL DRESSING. 201
plants, aiid lighted by lamps, amid which the spray of a
fountain cast up crystal drops, which fell dimpling inio
the water again. The light played upon the white cup
of a large water-lily in the miniature pool, and the scene
was at once remarkable and brilliant. As I looked around
from the bottom of the stairs, and about, I could see many
pale and weary faces, but not one dirty sortie du bal :
all here as fresh, as clear, as snowy white as if new only
that day ; some lined with cherry color ; others with blue ;
a few with amber ; most with white. Even after all the
festivities were over, a Frenchwoman, if she could not
look well, was resolved to look clean.
Ball-dressing requires less art than the nice gradations
of costume in the dinner costume, and small evening party
dress. For a ball, everything even in married women
may be light, somewhat fanciful and airy. What arc
called good dresses seldom look well. The heavy, richly-
trimmed silk, is only appropriate to those who do not dance ;
even for such, as much effect should be given to those
dresses as can be devised. Taste, ingenuity, style, are
here most requisite. Since the fashions continually al-
ter, there is no possibility of laying down specific rules ;
the dress, however, for the married, and for the unmar-
ried lady of rank or of fortune, should be distinctly mark-
ed. For the married lady moire dresses, either trimmed
with lace, or tulle and flo vers, or white silk no other
N color in plain silk looks well or thin dresses over white
satin, an article which is happily coming into fashion
again, are most suitable. Diamonds on the head, neck,
arms, she may wear ; but the decoration of the dress with
them should be reserved for court-balls, and for court.
Formerly when diamonds were worn, flowers were either
202 LADY'S DRESS.
considered unnecessary, or even inconsistent; now they
are frequently intermingled. Small feathers are ev*n
worn at balls; and, for the married, produce peihapi
more effect than any other coiffure ; but they are wholly
out of fashion on a young lady's head. The unmarried,
indeed, so long as they continue young, will best consult
their own good looks by as much simplicity as is consist-
ent with fashion. In Paris no ornaments, with the ex-
ception, perhaps, of a single bracelet, are allowed to the
jeune filh ; her dress must be white ; the flowers in her
hair white also. To these general rules there are excep-
tions, but the appearance of a French ball is that of spot-
less white; far different to the full colors often worn in
England.
White tulle over white silk (or white lace), and bou
quets of flowers, corresponding to the gu'niandc or ca-
chepenie on the head, are the favorite dress of the young
lady. A parure of flowers, consisting of two flowera
mingled, is elegant ; for instance, the rose and heliotrope,
the parure forming the wreath which extends down the
Bkirt ; or, of white flowers, the acacia, of blue, the my-
osotis, of green, the maidenhair fern ; these are all ex-
quisite ornaments. Even the large white lily forms a
beautiful parure. ThQ French always make use of the
flowers in season, but we English are less scrupulous. A
young lady will wear a wreath of lilies of the valley mixed
with roses, in the depth of the winter ; holly and berries
in June ; scarlet geraniums in spring. Large daisies are
also liable to suggest ludicrous ideas. " That lady's dresa
wants mowing," said a wag, looking at a beautiful tulle
dress, covered with white daisies with flaring yellow cen-
tres.
3 THE HEAD-DRESS. 203
j~> '-
ot. *
i Nothing, however, forms a more beautiftu head-dress
> \ natural flowers, carefully mounted. The French
a >-__great art of mounting flowers on wire, and many
^ o ^ladies'-maids learn it ; some of the ladies excel in
jives. For country balls and fetes, tjjj^ effect ig
and the perpetual variety obtained a source of that
_ ri ie and novelty which add so much to the effect pro-
duced by dress. The flowers should be neatly and firmly
stuck upon wires. Variegated geraniums, and all the white
varieties only, answer well ; white camellias (the red are
too heavy), parti-colored carnations, the rose Devoniensis,
large white lilies, are all suitable to hairs of various shades.
&L parure of ivy is elegant but it has become common ;
in spring, the scarlet ranunculus has a rich effect ; in win-
ter, the hellebore or Christmas rose is very appropriate.
There is one of the carnival balls at Munich, in which the
custom of wearing natural flowers is almost des rigiteiirs ;
it is on Shrove-Tuesday. Since in that severe climate it
is difficult to obtain natural flowers in perfection, the
wreaths are ordered in Paris, and are articles of great ex-
pense. On seeing them beside even the most exquisite ar-
tificial wreaths, the effect is striking ; every tint in the
latter has a want of that transparency which, in the nat-
ural flowers, is owing to the minute and almost invisible
globules of water in the petals beneath the cuticle. The
richest hues pall before the inimitable coloring of nature.
Amongst the garnitures on one occasion, that of the Queen
of Bavaria was pre-eminently beautiful. She woie on her
head a wreath of natural roses ; in the centre of each rose
hung a diamond dew-drop. Her dress was white, trimmed
down on either side with single roses, encircled with a
single row of diamonds each, as if the dew hung round
204 LADY'S DRESS.
the petals ; in the centre was the diamond-dew drop. Thi
beloved and beautiful princess, now, by marriage, the first
cousin of the Princess Royal of England, always super-
intends the arrangements of her own ball dresses , her
taste is exquisite, and the ingenuity with which she varies
her costumes is remarkable.
As ladies advance in life, the ball-room seems scarcely
to be their province ; but since many of them are obliged
to be chaperons, the style of dress most becoming person-
ally and also most consistent with that character, should
be considered. Many persons think that it little matters
what a middle-aged lady wears, so long as she looks neat
and respectable, and displays a sufficient amount of expen-
sive lace, diamonds, and so many ells of unexceptionable
silk or satin. I am not of that opinion ; as long as a face
is a face fit to present itself to society, so long should
good taste carefully preserve the fast-fading attractions,
riot by art and cosmetics, or false curls, or roses round a
sallow brow, or the lilies of the field, which are appropri-
ate to youth alone, but by an arrangement of cap or head*
dress that is becoming to the poor old ruins ; just as we
like to see the mantling -ivy clustering, and say how greatly
it adds to the beauty of the old devastated fort or chapel.
Under the head of festive occasions, the court dress
must not be admitted.
This costume consists, first, of an entire dress, gener-
ally made of some plain but costly silk.
The dress, therefore, forms one component part ; next
comes the petticoat, usually of some lighter material ; and
lastly, the train.
The dress is made, even for elderly ladies, low ; and the
boddice is trimmed in accordance with the petticoat and
the train.
COURT-DRESS. 205
The petticoat is now usually formed of rich Brussels
lace, or of Honiton lace, or tulle; and often looped up
with flowers.
The train is of the richest material of the whole dress.
Formerly it was often of satin ; now it is of moire or glace
silk, though satin is again beginning to be worn.
It fastens half round the waist, and is about seven yards
in length, and wide in proportion. It is trimmed all
round with lace, in festoons, or on the edge, with bunches
of flowers at intervals, and is lined usually with white
silk.
The petticoat is ornamented with the same lace as the
train, sometimes in flounces, sometimes in puffings or
bouffons of tulle, sometimes en tablier, that is, down either
side.
The boddice and sleeves are all made in strict unifor-
mity with the train and petticoat.
The head-dress consists of feathers, and comprises a
lappet of lace, hanging from either side of the head down
nearly to the tip of the boddice. Diamonds or pearls, or
any other jewelry sufficiently handsome, may be worn in
the hair, but the two former are most frequently adopted.
The same ornaments should be worn on the boddice around
the neck and arms.
The shoes should be of white satin, and trimmed ac-
oording to fashion. The fan should be strictly a dress
fan ; those spangled are the most suitable for a costume
which requires everything to be as consistent as possible
with the occasion.
Having thus treated of the drosses suited to the house,
and to all festive occasions, ihe^e i^iaaii^ <*my the ryling-
tirea?
206 LADY'S DRESS.
In this particular several changes have been made during
the last two or three years. The round hat, of masculine
appearance, is almost always exchanged for a slouched hat,
sometimes of a round form, and turned up round the brim
sometimes turned up on either side, and coming with a
point low down upon the forehead and sometimes three-
cornered : all these different forms have their votaries ;
but it must be acknowledged that the more simple and
modest the shape, the more becoming.
Formerly, the neat round hat, masculine in its form,
was unembellished by even a bow ; but now, a long, sweep-
ing feather on one, and sometimes on both sides, sets off
the riding-hat. The color of the feather is varied, but is
usually black or brown, like the hat. The feather, it may
here be remarked, should be full, well-curled, long and
firm, not thin and weak, as if taken from an ostrich in a
moulting condition. In winter, the hat should be of felt
of a soft kind, pliable and durable ; in summer, of a fine
straw. It is not wise to get a hat made by an inferior
hand. The style constitutes the grace, and renders it
either a most becoming or a most tawdry feature in the
riding-dress. And here let us remark on the great benefit
of these slouching hats to the complexions which have so
materially suffered of late years from small bonnets and
round hats. Health, with delicacy, is the true charm of
feminine physique, and, as far as a riding costume is con-
cerned, nothing secures the freshness of the face better
than the slouched hat. It is cool, and permits the free
circulation of air around the face, while it protects the
eyes, the forehead, and almost the chin, from scorching
heat or withering blasts.
"finally, as far as regards hats, let a hint be thrown out
RIDING-DRESS. 207
repressing the eccentricities of a fantastic taste : The art
of riding is in itself conspicuous enough, A ladj decked
out in that position approaches the mountebank rider from
Astley's or Franconi's. Her costume may be elegant on
all occasions without being outre. The moment her taste
degenerates so as to produce a striking effect, she may be
sure she is making a mistake, and nowhere so fatally as on
horseback.
We must acknowledge that the change in riding-hats
has another good effect. The lady equestrian cannot now
be called masculine. " Bist ein Mann ocler eine Mad-
schen?" cried out a number of little Rhenish boys as a
young lady galloped through a village near D":sseldorf.
The Spectator has a sharp article on the ambiguous ap-
pearances of these Amazons, as he styles them ; and in
fact in the last century, when scarlet riding-habits were
often worn, it must have been difficult on the riding-field
to have distinguished a lady from a gentleman ; but nov/
there is something picturesque, stylish, and inconsistent in
the modern slouching hat. the sweeping feather, and be-
neath them the rich clusters of hair bagged, and so con-
fined in a net of black chenille.
The habit has sustained some changes, and, as far as ap-
pearance is concerned, not for the better. It used to be
invariably tight, well-shaped, with close sleeves. It is now
often made loose, with deep cuffs, or, if worn tight, a loose
jacket, or casaque, can be put over it an advantage in
cold weather, but certainly not to the figure, which ia
never seen to more advantage, be it bad or good, than in
a tight body, such as the old riding-habit. A plain white
collar of fine lawn should be worn with the habit, deep lawn
cuffs underneath the sleeves, while gauntlet gloves of thick
208 LADY'S DRESS.
leather, and no ornaments, save perhaps a delicately-twined
vrhip, need be displayed. Compactness and utility are the
requisites for the riding -dress ; and, whilst touching on
this point, let us impress strongly the danger arising from
too long a skirt in the riding-habit : it is apt not only to
alarm horses, but to entangle, in case of accidents, their
fair riders.
There, as in other cases, the principle of all that relates
to dress should be consistency and suitableness. If these
are once lost sight of if fifty apes fifteen if the countess
dresses worse than her own housekeeper, or the maid vies
with her mistress if modest middle rank puts on the
garb of fashion if good taste and good %nse cease to be
the foundation of the important w'jolc, then all special di-
rections will be unavailing.
CHAPTER V
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
LORD BYRON in one of his letters tells us that he might
have heen a beau, if he had chosen to drink deep and
gamble fast enough. In Ben Johnson's time the main points
of a " compleat gentleman" were to swear a new oath in
every sentence, " By the foot of Pharaoh," " As I am a
gentleman and a soldier," and so forth ; to take tobacco,
and swear over its virtues ; to be able to run friend or foe
through the heart with a bodkin ; and to write a copy of
silly verses to a by no means inaccessible mistress. Beau
Brummell had only three pet points : the way he took
snuff, opening the box with one hand, the ease with which
he cut an old acquaintance, and the grace with which he
bowed to a new one. Lord Chesterfield seems to think
that if a man can ride, fence, and dance well, he is skilled
enough for good society. -The three requirements are
worth noticing. The first was esential, if you would have
male friends, in days when knighthood was not quite a
shadow ; the second allowed you to make good enemies,
and kill or keep them ; the third fitted you for the society
of women.
The accomplishments of to-day, though they differ in
many respects, have the same general bearing. In a man
they are the arts required to keep a friend, to make an
enemy, and to charm a woman ; in a woman, to surpass a
rival and to captivate a man of more taste than heart.
For both, however, they have a far higher object, that,
(209)
210 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
namely, of giving pleasure to our-fellow-creatures in some
form or other, and of increasing the general harmony of
society. They are in fact those corollaries to the problem
of education, by which a person is fitted not only to " pass,"
but to " take honors" in the social examination. While
it is impossible to deny that a man may be a perfect gen-
tleman, a woman a well-bred lady, and both of them
agreeable in society, without a single accomplishment, we
all of us feel that such a person must either possess no
usual wit, like Dr. Johnson, who had not one accomplish-
ment to add to his sound sense and learning, or be one
who, content to fill a quiet corner in life, does not care to
emerge from it even for the benefit of others.
Accomplishments have a heavy run against them in the
present day, and are decidedly at a discount. " Give me,"
cries Paterfamilias, bringing his fist with a heavy thump
down on the table, " give me good sterling practical know-
ledge, and none of your pishty-wishty humbugging accom-
plishments." Paterfamilias, you err, like many a British
father, and in your love of the practical, you are blind to
the immense advantage of cultivating the beautiful in
every young soul. Paterfamilias, to take the most serious
ground with you, it is the practical which shall lead you
to money bags and account books, but the beautiful which
shall guide you towards heaven. These same accomplish-
ments at which you sneer have a much deeper meaning and
value for your children than merely to shine in society.
They constitute the whole amateurship of art, and in the
present day to be thoroughly accomplished is to be half
an artist ; yet the better half. You may not be able to
give a concert in Hanover Square Rooms, but you have
cultivated the music that lies within your soul. And there
THEIR REAL VALUE. 211
is music in every soul, and music is the most beautiful ex-
pression of peace and harmony ; and harmony is the most
beautiful law of nature, of creation, the first rule of
God. You may not be able to exhibit a picture in the
Royal Academy, but you have learned to copy God's
work, and learning to copy you have learned to observe
and to know ; and to know God's work, is to know God in
His work. Believe me, Paterfamilias, the study of art
rightly undertaken is the study of God, and it is by cul-
tivating the beautiful that you approach heaven.
I do not say that every man can be a Crichton, but I
do say that every man should aim at that character in
some way, both for his own sake and that of those around
hiia. How much more so a woman, whose very mission ig
to make life less burdensome to man, to soothe and comfort
him, to raise him from his petty cares to happier thoughts,
to purer imaginings, towards heaven itself.
At first sight accomplishments seem to belong to women
more than to men, but if we look more closely into tho
subject we shall find that a man has a double necessity
upon him ; he must be fit, on the one hand, for the society
of .men, on the other for that of women, and this involves
a double list of acquirements ; while those of women,
which make them charming to men, fit them also for the
company of their own sex.
Thus we must refuse in this case the place aux dames,
and take the men first. To mix comfortably with the
society of his own sex must be the first object to a man,
properly so called, and to do this he requires to know a
certain number of arts which are common among hia
own.
212 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
Foremost of these is the art of self-defence, which
one which society constantly calls into requisition. For-
tunately the duel is gone out of fashion, and a man need
not now, as in the days of good Queen Bess, come to town
to learn how to pick and take a quarrel, and how to get
well out of it when made. Fencing in England is now
nothing more than an exercise, no longer qualifying a man
to take his place as a gentleman among his betters ; but
that which has succeeded to it is not without its importance,
and the " compleat gentleman" should be able to use hia
fists. Low as this art is, and contemptible as are those
who make a profession of it, it is nevertheless of impor-
tance to a man of every class, for a good blow often solves
a difficulty as readily as Alexander's sword cut the Gor-
dian knot. There are men whom nothing but a physical
punishment will bring to reason, and with these we shall
have to deal at some time of our lives. A lady is insulted
or annoyed by an unwieldly bargee, or an importunate and
dishonest cabman. One well-dealt blow settles the whole
matter. It is true that it is brutal, and certainly should
be a last resource ; but to last resources we are often driven,
and a show of determination brings impudence to an ar-
mistice. I would say, then, know how to use your fists,
but never use them as long as any other argument will
prevail, but, when all others fail, have recourse to that
natural and certainly most convincing logic. A man,
therefore, whether he aspires to be a gentleman or not,
should learn to box. It is a knowledge easily gained.
There are but few rules for it, and those are suggested by
common sense. Strike out, strike straight, strike sud-
denly ; keep one arm to guard, and punish with the other
BOXING. 213
Two gentlemen ntvei fight ; the art' of boxing is only
brought into use in punishing a stronger and more impu-
dent man of a class beneath your own.
There is good in everything, and there is a view to
take of the pugilistic art which compensates in some mea-
sure for its brutal character in this country. The fist has
expelled the sword and pistol. The former indeed went
out about the beginning of last century, and Beau Nash,
though by no means a coward, did his best to put down
the wearing of a weapon which was a perpetual temptation
to commit polite murder and disturb the harmony essen-
tial to good society. There could be no comfort and no
freedom in conversation when, instead of politely differing
with you, a man's hand moved to his sword-hilt. . It is no
argument against me that the rapier is still worn at court,
for I feel convinced that nine-tenths of those ornamental
but utterly useless appendages would never be induced to
quit their scabbards, and, even if drawn, would be of no
more value than a- stick in the hands of at least nine-tenths
of their courtly owners.
But it was another kind of biped who put down duelling,
and a cock-pheasant of Wimbledon- Common, jealous, no
doubt, at seeing the powder which ought to have been
used for him, thrown away upon a human being, or per-
haps anxious to try whether a bullet tasted better than
shot, who had the honor of making these encounters so
superbly ridiculou^, that to call a man out in the present
day is equivalent to calling him a fool and confessing your-
self idiotic. There are those, however, who regret the
palmy days of twelve paces and coffee for four, and tell
us that the fear of a hole in the waistcoat kept many an
impudent man in his place and restrained unwarrantable
214 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
familiarity. With all submission I wouljj suggest that the
fear of being knocked down on the spot, and having his
beauty spoiled, is likely to be much more persuasive to a
man who can offend in this manner. But will you kindly
look across the water either way, and tell me if the silly
custom, kept up both in Europe and America, has there
the effect of awing men into even decent politeness ? In
the latter country, especially, where a "difficulty" almost
always ends fatally, it is by no means uncommon for a
complete stranger to put his hands into his pockets, cock
his eye at you, and inform you by way of introduction,
" Wall, I guess you're a tarnation loggerhead, yeeou
aire," proceeding to pass comments on your nationality,
your personal appearance, and your general mental ca-
pacities, according to the "guess," "reckoning," or " cal-
cyoo-lation" of the speaker. If you were to meet these
with astonishment, indignation, anger, or, in short, in any
way but by the retort personal and direct of the tu qiioque
description, you would be looked on as a disagreeable,
testy, and pugnacious Britisher, and the rest of the com-
pany' would probably- request you to " shut up." In fact
so universal is insolence in America, that even in what is
Lh ere called good society the "uptown" sets you are
liable to be assailed with the grossest epithets, and it is
only after being bespattered with essence of Billingsgate,
that you would be allowed to remark, " Wall, that's some,
that is ; I reckon my dander's ris a bit after that." Of
course these remarks do not apply to New York, which,
in civilisation, is as far in advance of the States generally,
as London is of the Hebrides.
It is no longer necessary, therefore, to give the etiquette
of duelling, which may be gathered, as a curiosity, from
FIELD SPORTS. 215
almost every novel written twenty years ago. It would
be as sensible to give the etiquette of murder. As to ita
immorality, it has been discussed again and again, and the
custom has been finally condemned on that score.
Of course to knock a man down is never good manners,
but there is a way of doing it gracefully, and one rule
should be observed, viz., whether you can command your
temper or not, never show it, except by the blow. Never
assail an offender with words, nor when you strike him,
use such expressions as, "Take that," &c. There are
cases m society when it is quite incumbent on you to
knock an offender down, if you can, whether you feel an-
gry or not, so that, if to do so is not precisely good man-
ners, to omit it is sometimes very bad manners ; and to
box, and that well, is therefore an important accomplish-
ment, particularly for little men.
It is decidedly a relief to quit that subject, and I am
not ambitious of emulating those gentlemen of the sword
of Queen Elizabeth's day, who, for a small gratuity, would
decide for you whether your honor was hurt or not a
question they usually contrived to answer in the negative
to the great relief and satisfaction of the applicant.
Our field sports have been so often and justly lauded
that I shall not now speak of them in a constitutional point,
of view, but their effect on society is a matter of no small
interest, and it is extremely agreeable to Englishmen to
be reminded of points of their superiority over their neigh-
bors. I am inclined to think that our love of sports," if
it spoils the London season, and makes dancing a torment,
does none the less assist our women to be virtuous, and
our men to be noble. The effect of a want of good, healthy
out-door amusements is to make of a man either a carpet-
216 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
knight, or a hanger about cafes. The life of cities tenda
to demoralize, and anything which takes a man away
from a town for a time has its value. Thus hunting,
shooting, riding, driving, cricket } and so forth, are as im-
portant elements of social life as dancing and music, and
tg be ignorant of their art will not only exclude one from
much charming society we might sometimes enjoy, but
will often cause us to put others to great inconvenience,
if it does not equally annoy ourselves. Often in the
country there is no other conveyance but a horse and sad-
dle to be had. What are we to do if we cannot ride ?
Still ofterier the whole arrangement of some party of
pleasure depends on our being able to leave the coachman
behind, and it is to us, the only gentleman perhaps, that the
ladies apply to take his place. How, then, if we cannot
handle a whip ? Then, too, in the country, riding and
driving are such common accomplishments, that besides
the inconvenience, our ignorance of them subjects us even
to ridicule. What more laughable than a man jolted up
and down on his horse, till his hat slips to the back of his
head, his hair flies about, his trousers creep up to his
knees, and his face expresses either pitiable misery, or lu-
dicrous discomfort ? On the other hand. to. hunt, shoot,
handle a bat, or a billiard-cue, though by no means ex-
pected of every man, are often the only amusements in
the country, and we may, if ignorant of them, not only
be shut out from them ourselves, but even oblige our host
to give them up on our account. In fact, the more of
such accomplishments you know, the less tedious will your
life be to yourself and your company to others, and though
wit and conversation are worth all the amusements which
a toy-maker could dream of, you must not forget that the
RIDING. 217
world is mainly peopled with fools, and that to appreciate
your sallies, and join in your mirth, requires an amount
of sense which is not to be found in every country bump-
kin. Should the weird sisters, in a fit of bad temper,
send you by express to sojourn for a month with a gen-
tleman farmer or small hunting squire, what can you do
but shoot, ride, or drive with him ? Will your heavy-
headed host, who dreams of patridges, and vacillates be-
tween long-horns and turnips in his waking thoughts, care
for your choice club-gossip, understand your fine-edged
wit, or thank you for your political news and Parliamen-
tary prospects ? No, no ; you must relate, slowly and
surely, how on such a day in such a year you " met" at
such a village, " drew ' such a cover, threw off in such
a direction, " cast" at such a spot, ran for so many min-
utes, arid made so many wonderful, probably also apocry-
phal, leaps during that period. Relate how many birds
you bagged, what score you made at any insignificant
cricket-match, and how you swam from Barnes to Brent-
ford against tide and stream. Then, indeed, is your man
your friend, and he will privately impart to his wife that
evening that he thinks you " an amazingly fine fellow,"
which would have sounded very like ' horrid bore," if
you had not been able to come out on these subjects.
I have no intention to trespass on Mr. liarey's prov-
ince, and I am further of opinion that equitation cannot,
like grammar, be learned from a book, but there are a
few useful hints about the etiquette of riding, which may
well be introduced here. The first thing, then, is to
dress suitably. Boots and cords were once the sine qua
wow of a horseman, but ~ though they are very comforta-
ble, and may still be worn in the country, when you are
10
218 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
not going to ride with ladies, they have been interdicted
in town, and would mark you out as a riding-master. On
the other hand, you must avoid too fine a dress, such as
patent leather boots, and should wear a cut-away in pre-
ference to a frock-coat. Above all, let the stick or whip
be simple, with no gold head, no flummery about it. For
the country, you may have what is commonly called a
"crop," with a bone handle at the end; for town, you
may take either an ordinary walking-stick, or a gentle-
man's riding-whip, mounted simply with silver. In all
other respects, your dress should be that in which you
walk. The lady's dress has been described in the last
chapter.
A man who rides without ladies requires no groom to
follow him, and a young man particularly should never
take one, even though he intends to .make calls. A lady,
on the other band, should never ride alone, except in
quiet parts of the country. In London she would be
taken for a demoiselle du cirque, and in the country she
would be liable to accidents, with no one to assist her. A
young lady should not ride out without a gentleman, as
well as a groom, and, under most circumstances, mamma
would decidedly object to that gentleman being young
and single, unless he were a very intimate friend.
Having thus arranged your dress and your party, you
go down and mount no, you do not mount yourself, but
assist the ladies. There never was so lame a legend as
that of a certain lady of (W er rtry5 whom Tennyson and
ThomsiS the Inquisitive have rendered celebrated. Of
course it is very pretty, and we who honor women as we
should (though we burnt la Pucelle d' Orleans}, and
have had a range of noble ones from Boadicea to Florence
MOUNTING AND THE SEAT. 219
Nightingale, can well believe that Godiva was as modest
as she was merciful ; but have we ever asked who as-
sisted her ? Perhaps you will tell me that till a very
recent period, no stable-yard was without a flight of three
stone-steps standing by themselves, and that women al-
ways mounted from these. I know it, and have seen
hundreds of them in the western counties ; but before I
admit your argument, you must show me that these^stepa
existed in the days of the fair equestrian who wore no
garb but modesty ; you must prove that those people are
wrong who describe the ladies of the olden time as mount-
ing from the shoulder of a serving-man or a gallant.
However this may be, neither steps nor shoulders are
so good as a steady hand, which is the means patronized
by modern horsewomen. The lady having gathered up
her skirt, and holding it in her left hand, must place her-
self as close as possible to the horse, with her face towards
the animal's head, and her right hand on the pummel.
The gentleman, whose part and privilege it is to assist
her, having first obtained her consent to do so, then places
himself at the horse's shoulder with his face towards the
lady, and, stooping a little, places his right hand horizon-
tally at a convenient elevation from the ground. On the
palm of this hand the damsel sets her sweet little left
foot, and it is then the gentleman's duty to lift it with a
gentle motion as she herself springs upwards. But be-
ware that you do not jerk it up too suddenly, lest she
lose her balance and be thrown back over the saddle. I
have seen a lady nearly killed by awkward mounting.
A man should be able to mount on either side of the
horse, and ladies who ride much and wish to keep their
figures straight, change the side from time to time. When
220 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
the lady is in the saddle you should offer to put her foot
in the stirrup and to pull down the skirt, and you then
give her the reins, and proceed to mount yourself. Mr.
Rarey teaches us to do so without stirrups, and a man
who would be graceful should practise this on either side.
A horse, like most other animals, has two sides. The one
which is to our left when we are in the saddle is called
the wear, the other the off side, and it is on the formei
that we generally mount. We place our left foot in the
Btirrup, our left hand on the saddle, and swing ourselves
up, throwing the right leg over the creature's back. Noth-
ing is more graceless than to see a man climb with both
hands into his seat.
The seat itself is one of those things which must be
learned by practice. Ths chief rules are : sit upright,
but not stiffly, and well back in the saddle ; stick the
knees into the sides thereof, and keep the feet parallel to
the horse's body, the toes turned in rather than out. The
foot should be about half-way in the stirrup, which in
rough-riding may be allowed to slip down to the hollow
of the foot. The greatest obstacle to good riding is want
of confidence, and this can scarcely be acquired, except
by beginning at an early age. If you cannot ride de-
cently, you had better not attempt it in company, if you
would not risk the fate of Geordie Campbell,
" Saddled, and bridled, and booted rode he,
Harae cam his gude steed, but never cam he "
The rule of the road need not be observed in riding as in
driving, but you should always ride to the right of the
lady who is with you, lest you risk crushing her feet.
Your own, of course, you must not care about. When
you meet people whom you know on horseback, you have
HUNTING. 221
no right to turn and join them, unless invited to do so.
If you overtake them, on the other hand, you have a
right to ride with them ; but if you are not wanted, you
will be careful about exercising the privilege.
About hunting I shall say little, because I know little,
which is a confession you will find it the wisest plan to
make in the country. I shall only advise you not to
hunt unless you have a good seat and a good horse, and
never accept the loan of a friend's horse, and still less
an enemy's, unless you can ride very well. A man may
forgive you for breaking his daughter's heart, but never
for breaking his hunter's neck. Another point is always
to be quiet at a meet, and never join a small meet unless
you know some one in the field. The first essential for
hunting is pluck ; the second, skill ; the third, a good
horse. Avoid talking of your achievements, enthusiastic
shouting when you break cover, and riding over the
hounds. Whatever you do, do not injure one of those
precious animals.
There is a grace in riding which no jockey, no profes-
sional huntsman ever acquires. When once you have
confidence, ease may soon follow ; but without much prac-
tice, you will always be more or less stiff in your seat.
A lady should be careful to sit straight in the middle of
the saddle, with her face full towards the horse's head.
Whatever the motion of the animal, you should attempt
o cling as closely as possible to the saddle. The Aus-
trian officers pride themselves on being able to trot for a
mile with a glass of wine in one hand, and not spill a
drop of it. In England we rise in trotting, as a relief to
ourselves and the horse, but this is never done in any
othei country. The first rule is to rise ; not from the
222 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
stirrup, but from the knees ; the second, to rise as little
as possible The man who "shows daylight" between
himself and his saddle is a bad rider. A lady should
rise even less than a man, and neither of them should lean
over the horse's neck, nor hold the reins in both hands.
But I am not a riding-master, and I am trespassing on
his ground.
Driving, again, is an accomplishment of butcher's boys
and hansom cabmen as much as of " gentlemen," but there
is a vast difference in the style. One rule may be given
at once, and we may unhesitatingly affirm that Jehu the
son of Ninishi was " no gentleman," when we remind
you that to drive furiously, as well as to ride furiously, is
riot only forbidden by law, but a low, cruel, ungentleman-
like habit.
" The beggar mounted rides his horse to death."
If you drive too fast, I am tempted to ask whether the an-
imal is your own, and whether you know its value. I may
add, that if wise you will never drive other people's horses
unless asked to do so: The rule of the road in England
is a curious instance of our national distinctiveness. In
every other country that I know, the law is simple enough :
always keep to the right side of the road. In this land,
on the contrary, you must take the left when you meet,
and the right when you pass. The custom, I believe orig-
inated in that of shaking hands with every one you met,
which reminds me of a pretty one they once had, and even
now retain in some parts of France, that of a man and
lady riding hand in hand together. I have even ridden
arm in arm with a fair-haired blue-eyed Norman girl, and
if I did not snatch a kiss there and then, it was not for
DRIVING. 228
fear of losing my balance. Well, our grandmothers used
to ride on one horse with our grandfathers, tucking their
fingers into the belts which the latter wore, and seated on
the pillion much more comfortably than their grand
daughters on the pummel; but what horses they must
have had in those days !
But to return to driving. It is a simple art, requiring
care rather than aught else, unless it be a knowledge of
the dispositions of the horse or horses you undertake to
drive. One horse or a pair can give but little embarrass-
ment, and you will seldom be called upon to drive tandem,
unicorn, or four in hand. But, perhaps, more accidents
occur in turning corners than in anything else, and I should
not do my duty, if I did not advise you, when the corner
is on your right hand, to give it a wide berth ; when on
your left, to turn it gently and as slowly as possible.
The exercises which come rather under the head of
games, such as cricket, rackets, tennis, bowls, skittles, and
a dozen others, are by no means compulsory on any man
to know, and I shall therefore leave their description to
the many and various guide-books destined to introduce
the young athlete to British Olympics. But I may re-
mark that, while these games are purely republican in
spirit, and my lord, if clumsy, ranks lower for the time
than the skilful villager, it is no way difficult to distinguish
the well-bred man, whether a good player or not. For
while he yields entirely to the excitement of the game, he
will refuse to join in the silly familiarities to which it
sometimes leads. You will never hear him banter another
on his bad play, nor, as too common in some games, will
he vent oaths and strong epithets on some one who has
made a gross error. When he does so himself, he will
224 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
confess himself wrong, and not clamorously defend him-
self; and, if he has to ask another player for anything,
he will call to him in an affable not an impatient com-
manding tone, and use some such phrase as : " may I trouble
you for that ball, sir?" not " Ball, you there," as one
sometimes hears it. In short, he will retain, under the
excitement of the game, the same good bearing which he
displays in society.
Similar observations apply to all kinds of out-dooi
amusements, such as shooting, boating, and so forth. A
gentleman will never attempt to monopolize the sport, and
however superior in skill to his companions, will not parade
his superiority, still less boast of it, but rather, that the
others may not feel their inferiority, he will keep considera-
bly within his powers. If a guest or a stranger be of the
party, the best place and the best sport must be offered to
him, even though he may be a poor shot, a bad oar, and so
on ; but, at the same time, if a guest knows his inferiority
in this respect, he will, for more reasons than one, prefer
in inferior position. So, too, when a certain amount of
exertion is required, as in boating, a well-bred man will
offer to take the greater share, and will never shirk his
work. In short, the whole rule of good manners on such
occasions is not to be selfish, and the most amiable man
will therefore be the best bred.
Talking of boating reminds one of old college days, and
the healthy happiness that exercise used to bring one. It
is certainly desirable that a " compleat gentleman" should
be able to handle an oar as well as a gun, both that when
he has the opportunity he may get health, and that he may
be able to take part in the charming excursions which are
made by water. In fact a man ought to be able to turn
SPORTS. Z"2i
his hand to almost everything, and, what is more, should
do himself whatever he can. It is a false and vulgar prido
which prevents a man from stooping to cord his own box,
carrying his own bag, weeding his own garden, cutting his
own hedges (for he must take care not to cut anybody
else's), shutting his own shutters, putting coal on his own
fire, or what not. To ring up a servant for these things,
shows either laziness or a vulgar attempt at grandeur.
Indeed, for my part, nothing seems to me so comfortless
as the constant entrance of servants ; it interrupts conver-
sation, and destroys the feeling of ease and privacy. I
once met, at the house of a lady friend, the son of a man
who had begun life as a grocer, made his fortune by a sue
cessful speculation, and settled down in the full conviction
that he was therefore a "gentleman." My friend had
requested the young man to put some coal on the fire, and
as he was rather clumsy about it, he excused himself in
the following speech : " You see, aw Mrs. B , that I
am aw really not accustomed to do this kind of thing,
don't you see? Now at home, you see, the governor,
when he wants coals, rings the bell, and the butler comes
in; 'Coal,' says the old gentleman, and the butler dis-
appears to tell aw the upper-footman, who thinks it be-
neath his dignity, and therefore tells aw the under-
footman, who comes up and puts it on." I thought of the
Anglo-Indians, who, in this country, have often had no
more servants than a cook, a maid, and a " buttons." and
had to do everything for themselves, but who once in
India, find it impossible to tie their own shoe-strings, and
are obliged to keep a twenty-oneth <Jr even thirty-oneth
servant for equally trivial offices.
But if a certain amount of skill in out-door amusements
10*
226 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
is essential to a man who wishes to be agreeable, how much
more so in those in-door amusements, which are the very
objects for which people commonly assemble, and are there-
fore the continual accompaniments of society ? The art
of talking is, of course, the first of such accomplishments,
and as it is a subject of the highest importance and very
large range, it has been taken up in the preliminary chap-
ter. But besides conversation, and sometimes as an aid to
it, parties and balls are given for the purposes of dancing,
music, games (especially cards), and eating and drinking.
Of the etiquette of these parties I shall speak elsewhere.
I now content myself with a few hints on the accomplish-
ments themselves which are displayed in them.
" Thank you aw I do not dance," is now a very
common reply from a well-dressed handsome man, who i.
leaning against the side of the door, to the anxious, heated
hostess, who feels it incumbent on her to find a partner
for poor Miss Wallflower. I say the reply is not only
common, but even regarded as rather a fine one to make.
In short, men of the present day don't, won't, or can't
dance ; and you can't make them do it, except by threat-
ening to give them no supper. I really cannot discover
the reason for this aversion to an innocent amusement, for
the apparent purpose of enjoying which they have spent
an hour and a half on their toilet, and half -a-crown on a
hansom cabman. There is something, indeed, in the heat
of a London ball-room in the middle of July, there is i
great deal in the ridiculous smallness of the closets into
which the ball-giver crowds two hundred people with a
cruel indifference dhly equalled by that of the black-hole
of Calcutta, expecting them to enjoy themselves, when
the ladies' dresses are crushed and torn, and the gentle-
" i DON'T DANCE." 227
men, under the despotism of theirs, are melting away al-
most as rapidly as the ices with which an occasional waiter
has the heartlessness to insult them. Then, again, it is a
great nuisance to be introduced to a succession of plain,
uninteresting young women, of whose tastes, mode of life,
4c., you have not the slightest conception : who may look
gay, yet have never a thought beyond the curate and the
parish, or appear to be serious, while they understand
nothing but the opera and Lady So-and-so's ball in fact,
to be in perpetual risk of either shocking their prejudices,
or plaguing them with subjects in which they can have no
possible interest ; to take your chance whether they can
dance at all, and to know that when you have lighted on
a real charmer, perhaps the beauty of the room, she is
only lent to you for that one dance, and when that is over,
and you have salaamed away again, you and she must re-
main to one another as if you had never met ; to feel, in
short, that you must destroy either your present comfort
or. future happiness, is certainly sufficiently trying to keep
a man close to the side-posts of the doorway. But these
are reasons which might keep him altogether from a ball-
room, and if he has these and other objections to dancing,
he certainly cannot be justified in coming to a place set
apart for that sole purpose.
But I suspect that there are other reasons, and that in
most cases the individual can dance and does dance at
times, but has now a vulgar desire to be distinguished
from the rest of his sex present, and to appear indifferent
to the pleasures of the evening. If this be his laudable
desire, however, he might at least be consistent, and con-
tinue to cling to his door-post, like St. Sebastian to his
tree, and reply throughout the evening : " Thank you, F
228 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
don't take refreshments :" " Thank you, I can't eat sup-
per :' ; " Thank you, I don't talk :" " Thank you, I don't
drink champagne." for if a London ball-room be purga-
tory, what a demoniacal conflict does a London supper-
room present ; if young ladies be bad for the heart, cham-
pagne is worse for the head.
No, it is the will, not the power to dance which is want-
ing, and to refuse to do so. unless for a really good reason,
is not the part of a well-bred man. To mar the pleasure
of others is obviously bad manners, and though at the
door-post you may not be in the way, you may be certain
that there are some young ladies longing to dance, and
expecting to be asked, and that the hostess is vexed and
annoyed by seeing them fixed, like pictures, to the wall.
It is therefore the duty of every man who has no scruples
about dancing, and purposes to appear at balls, to learn
how to dance.
In the present day the art is much simplified, and if , >
you can walk through a quadrille, and perform a polka, \
waltz, or galop, you may often dance a whole eveningj 7
through. Of course, if you can add to these the Lancer^,
Schottische, and Polka-Mazurka, you will have more va-
riety, and can be more generally agreeable. But if your
master or mistress (a man learns better from the former)
has stuffed into your head some of the three hundred
dances which he tells you exist, the best thing you can
do is to forget them again. Whether right or wrong the
number of usual dances is limited, and unusual ones
should be very sparingly introduced into a ball, for as few
people know them, their dancing, on the one hand, becomes
a mere display, and, on the other, interrupts the enjoy-
ment of the majority.
THE QUALRILLE. 229
The quadrille is pronounced to be essentially a conver-
sational dance, but inasmuch as the figures are perpetually
calling you away from your partner, the first necessity
for dancing a quadrille is to be supplied with a fund of
small talk, in which you can go from subject to subject
like a bee from flower to flower. The next point is to
carry yourself uprightly. Time was when as in the
days of the nienuet de la cour the carriage constituted
the dance. This is still the case with the quadrille, in
which even if ignorant of the figures, you may acquit
yourself well by a calm graceful carriage. After all, the
most important figure is the smile, and the feet may be
left to their fate, if we know what to do with our hands ;
of which I may observe that they should never be pocketed.
The smile is essential. A dance is supposed to amuse,
and nothing is more out of place in it than a gloomy
scowl, unless it be an ill-tempered frown. The gaiety of
a dance is more essential than the accuracy of its figures,
and if you feel none yourself, you may at least look
pleased by that of those around you. A defiant manner
is equally obnoxious. An acquaintance of mine always
gives me the impression, when he advances in I'ete, that
he is about to box the lady who comes to meet him. But
the most objectionable of all is the supercilious manner.
Dear me, if you really think you do your partner an hon-
or in dancing with her, you should at least remember that
your condescension is annulled by the manner in whict
you treat her.
A lady beautiful word ! is a delicate creature, one j
who should be reverenced and delicately treated. It ia
therefore unpardonable to rush about in a quadrille, to
catch hold of the lady's hand as if it were a door-handle,
280 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
or to drag her furiously across the room, as if you were
Bluebeard and she Fatima, with the mysteiious closet op-
posite to you. This brusque violent style of dancing 13
unfortunately common, but immediately stamps a man.
Though I would not have you wear a perpetual simper,
you should certainly smile when you take a lady's hand,
and the old custom of bowing in doing so, is one that we
may regret ; for does she not confer an honor on us by
the action ? To squeeze it, on the other hand, is a gross
familiarity, for which you would deserve to be kicked out
of the room.
" Steps," as the chasser of the quadrille is called, be-
long to a past age, and even ladies are now content to walk
through a quadrille. To be graceful, however, a lady
should hold her skirt out a little. In France this is done
with one hand, which I am inclined to think is more
graceful than holding it with both. It is, however, neces-
sary to keep time with the music, the great object being
the general harmony. To preserve this, it is also advisa-
ble, where the quadrille, as is now generally the case, is
danced by two long lines of couples down the room, that
in Fete, and other figures, in which a gentleman and lady
advance alone to meet one another, none but gentlemen
should a Vance from the one side, and therefore none but
ladies froii the other.
Dancing masters find it convenient to introduce new
figures, and the fashion of La Trinise and the Grande
Rotide is repeatedly changing. It is wise to know the
last mode, but not to insist on dancing it. A quadrille
cannot go on evenly if any confusion arises from the igno-
ra-nce, obstinacy, or inattention of any one of the dancers.
It is therefore useful to know every way in which a figure
THE VALUE OF QUADKILLES. 25,
may be danced, and to take your cue from the others. It
is amusing, however, to find how even such a trifle as a
choice of figures in a quadrille can help to mark caste,
and give a handle for supercilious sneers. Jones, th
other day, was protesting that the Browns were " vulgar."
" Why so? they are well bred." " Yes, so they are."
" They are well-informed." " Certainly." " They are
polite, speak good English, dress quietly and well, are
graceful and even elegant." "I grant you all that."
" Then what fault can you find with them." " My dear
fellow, they are people who gallop roun<l in the last figun
Uf a quadrille," he replied triumphantly. But to a cer-
tain extent Jones is right. Where a choice is given, the
man of taste will always select for a quadrille (as it is
a conversational dance) the quieter mode of performing
a figure, and so the Browns, if perfect in other respects,
at least were wanting in taste. There is one alteration
lately introduced from France, which I sincerely trust
will be universally accepted. The farce of that degrading
little performance called " setting" where you dance be-
fore your partner somewhat like Man Friday before
Robinson Crusoe, and then as if your feelings were over-
come, seize her hands and whirl her round has been
finally abolished by a decree of Fashion, and thus more
opportunity is given for conversation, and in a crowded
room you have no occasion to crush yourself and partner
between the couples on each side of you.
I dc not attempt to deny that the quadrille, as now
W&lkedj is ridiculous; the figures, which might be grace-
ful if performed in a lively manner, have entirely lost
their spirit, and are become a burlesque of dancing ; but,
at the same time, it is a most valuable dance. Old and
232 ACCOMPLISHMENT^
young, stout and thin, good dancers and bud, lazy ana
active, stupid and clever, married and single, can all join
in it, and have not only an excuse arid opportunity for
tele-d-tete conversation, which is decidedly the easiest,
but find encouragement in the music, and in some cases
convenient breaks in the necessity of dancing. A per-
son of few ideas has time to collect them while the part-
ner is performing, and one of many can bring them cut
with double effect. Lastly, if you wish to be polite or
friendly to an acquaintance who dances atrociously, you
can select a quadrille for him or her, as the case may be.
Intense patriotism still induces some people to affirm that
the English country-dance is far preferable to this impor-
tation from France. These good creatures should inquire
a little further. I think they would find that the country-
dance (contre-danse) came from the same source ai a
somewhat earlier date. But, however this may be, a
dance which tears me so completely away from the part-
ner I have selected, ought in nine cases out of ten to be
hateful to me.
Very different in object and principle are the so-called
round dances, and there are great limitations as to those
who should join in them. Here the intention is to enjoy
a peculiar physical movement under peculiar conditions,
and the conversation during the intervals of rest is only
a secondary object. These dances demand activity and
lightness, and should therefore be, as a rule, confined to
the young. An old man sacrifices all his dignity in a
polka, and an old woman is ridiculous in a waltz. Cor-
pulency too, is generally a great impediment, though
Borne stout people prove to be the lightest dancers.
The morality of round dances scarcely comes within my
THE WALTZ. 233
province. They certainly can be made very indelicate ;
so can any dance, and the French cancan proves that the
quadrille is no safer in this respect than the waltz. But
it is a gross insult to our daughters and sisters to suppose
them capable of any but the most innocent and purest en-
joyment in the dance, while of our young men I will say,
that to the pure all things are pure. Those who see harm
in it are those in whose mind evil thoughts must have
arisen. Honi soit qui mal y pense. Those who rail
against dancing are perhaps not aware that they do but
follow in the steps of the Romish Church. In many parts
of the Continent, bishops who have never danced in their
lives, and perhaps never even seen a dance, have laid a
ban .of excommunication on waltzing. A story was me
told in Normandy of the worthy Bishop of Bayeux, one
of this number. A priest of his diocese petitioned him
to put down round dances. " I know nothing about
them," replied the prelate, " I have never even seen a
waltz." Upon this the younger ecclesiastic attempted to
explain what it was and wherein the danger lay, but the
Bishop could not see it. " Will Monseigneur permit me
to show him ?" asked the priest. " Certainly. My chap-
lain here appears to understand the subject ; let me see
you two waltz." How the reverend gentleman came to
know so much about it does not appear, but they certainly
danced a polka, a gallop, and a troistemps waltz. " All
these seem harmless enough." " Oh ! but Monseigneur
has not seen the worst ;" and thereupon the two gentle-
men proceeded to flounder through a valse d deux-temps.
They must have murdered it terribly, for they were
not half round the room when his Lordship cried out,
f< Enough, enough, that is atrocious, and deserves excom-
234 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
munication." Accordingly this waltz was forbidden, while
the other dances were allowed. I was at a public ball at
Caen soon after this occurrence, and was amused to find
the trois-temps danced with a peculiar shuffle, by way of
compromise between conscience and pleasure.
There are people in this country whose logic is as good
as that of the Bishop of Bayeux, but I confess my ina-
bility to understand it. If there is impropriety in round
dances, there is the same in all. But to the waltz, which
poets have praised and preachers denounced. The French,
with all their love of dancing, waltz atrociously, the Eng-
lish but little better ; the Germans and Ilussians alone
understand it. I could rave through three pages about
the innocent enjoyment of a good waltz, its grace and
beauty, but I will be practical instead, and give you a
few hints on the subject.
The position is the most important point. The lady
and gentleman before starting should stand exactly oppo-
site to one another, quite upright, and not, as is so com-
mon in England, painfully close to one another. If the
man's hand be placed where it should be, at the centre of
the lady's waist, and not all round it, he will have as firm
a hold and not be obliged to stoop, or bend to his right.
The lady's head should then be turned a little towards
her left shoulder, and her partner's somewhat less towards
his right, in order to preserve the proper balance. Noth-
ing can be more atrocious than to see a lady lay her head
on her partner's shoulder ; but, on the other hand, she
will not dance well, if she turns it in the opposite direc-
tion. The lady again should throw her head and shoul-
ders a little back, and the man lean a very little forward
"The position having been gained, the step is the next
THE WALTZ. 235
Question. In Germany the rapidity of the waltz is very
great, but it is rendered elegant by slackening the pace
every now and then, and thus giving a crescendo and
decrescendo time to the movement. The Russian men
undertake to perform in waltzing the same feat as the
Austrians in riding, and will dance round the room with
a glass of champagne in the left hand without spilling a
drop. This evenness in waltzing is certainly very grace-
ful, but can only be attained by a long sliding step, which
is little practised in England, where the rooms are small,
and people, not understanding the real pleasure of danc-
ing well, insist on dancing all at the same time. In Ger-
many they are so alive to the necessity of ample space,
that in large balls a rope is drawn across the room ; its
two ends are held by the masters of the ceremonies pro
tern., and as one couple stops and retires, another is al-
lowed to pass under the rope and take its place. But
then in Germany they dance for the dancing's sake.
However this may be, an even motion is very desirable,
and all the abominations which militate against it, such
as hop-waltzes, the Schottische, and ridiculous Varso-
viemie, are justly put down in good society. The pace,
again, should not be sufficiently rapid to endanger other
couples. It is the gentleman's duty to steer, and in
crowded rooms nothing is more trying. He must keep
his eyes open and turn them in every direction, if he
would not risk a collision, and the chance of a fall, or
what is as had, the infliction of a wound on his partner's
arm. I have seen a lady's arm cut open in suet a col-
lision by the bracelet on that of another lady ; and the
sight is by no means a pleasant one in a ball-room, to say
nothing of a new dress covered in a moment with blood
286 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
The consequences of violent dancing may be really
rious. Not only do delicate girls bring on thereby a vio-
lent palpitation of the heart, and their partners appear in
a most disagreeable condition of solution, but dangerous
falls ensue from it. I have known instances of a lady'a
head being laid open, and a gentleman's foot being broken
in such a fall, resulting, poor fellow, in lameness for life.
Nay, even death hovers among the giddy waltzers, and
Victor Hugo has written a beautiful little poem on girls
who have died of dancing, of which one verse as a moral :
" Qucls tristes lendemains laisse le bal folatre '.
Adieu, parure, danse et rires enfantins !
Aux chansons succedait le toux opiniatre,
Au plaisir rose et frais la fievre au teint bleuatre,
Aux yeux brillants les yeux eteints."
Be careful of the waltz, be sparing, lest it prove, in this
land of consumption, to too many the true dance of death.
Let us not mingle cypress with our roses.
It is perhaps useless to recommend flat-foot waltzing in
this country, where ladies allow themselves to be almost
hugged by their partners, and where men think it neces-
sary to lift a lady almost off the ground, but I am per-
suaded that if it were introduced, the outcry against the
impropriety of waltzing would soon cease. Nothing can
be more delicate than the way in which a German holds
his partner. It is impossible to dance on the flat foot
unless the lady and gentleman are quite free of one an-
other. His hand therefore goes no further round her waist
than to the hooks and eyes of her dress, hers, no higher
than to his elbow. Thus danced the waltz is smooth,
graceful, and delicate, and we could never in Germany
complain of our daughter's languishing on a young man's
FLAT-FOOT WALTZING. 237
shoulder. On the other hand, nothing is more graceless
and absurd than to see a man waltzing on the tips of his
toes, lifting his partner off the ground, or twirling round
and round with her like the figures on a street organ
The test of waltzing in time is to be able to stamp the
time with the left foot. A good flat-foot waltzer can
dance on one foot as well as on two, but I would not
advise him to try it in public, lest like Mr. Rarey's horse
on three legs, he should come to the ground in a luckless
moment. The legs should be very little bent in dancing,
the body still less so. I do not know whether it be worse to
see a man sit down in a waltz, or to find him with his head
poked forward over your young wife's shoulder, hot, red,
wild, and in far too close proximity to the partner of your
bosom, whom he makes literally the partner of his own.
King Polka has been deposed after a reign of nearly
twenty years. I cannot refrain from throwing up my cap.
True, his rule was easy, and he was popular on that ac-
count , indeed, he has still his partisans in certain classes,
but not in the best. For what a graceless, jogging, hug-
ging; sleepy old creature he was ! Then, too, he was not
even a legitimate sovereign. The good family-of the
Polkas in Hungary, Poland, &c., would not recognize this
pretender of England and France, who is no more like
them than that other pretender Mazurka, is like the orig-
inal spirited, national fling of the same name. It is cu-
rious to see how our D'Egvilles have ransacked Europe
for national dances to be adapted to the drawing-room,
and, indeed, there spoiled. The waltz is of German origin,
but where it is still danced in Germany in the original
manner (as for instance, among the peasants of the Tyrol),
it is a very different dance. It is there very slow and
238 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
graceful ; the feet are thrown out in a single long step,
which Turveydrop, I presume, would call a jett. After
a few turns, the partners waltz alone in the same step,
the man keeping the time by striking together his iron-
shod heels, until with a shout and clapping of hands he
again clasps his partner and continues in the same slow
measure with her. The very names of the dances bespeak
their origin. The Sclavonic nations must have given ua
the Polka, Mazurka, Redowa, Gorlitza. and Eletezka,
whatever that may be. The Varsovienne and Cracovienne
are all that remain of Polish nationality.
" Ye have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?"
says Byron bitterly to the Greeks, and some future Rus-
sian agent may perhaps sing to the wearers of the kilt in
the same strain :
" Ye have the Highland reel as yet,
Where are your Highland chieftains gone ?"
Then the Madrilaine has been imported from Spain,
which retains the oriental Bolero, Fandango, and Cachu-
cha. The last is of purely Eastern character, and might
be danced by a Nach girl before a Lucknow Prince. The
Americans with more patriotism than ourselves have pre-
served the only national and English dances, the hornpipe
and jig, and have about twenty varieties of the former in-
cluding a sailor's, college, gipsy's, and even bricklayer's
and lamplighter's hornpipe. These American dances have
names no less eccentric than their drinks. We should
scarcely care to join in the " Devil's Dream." for instance,
and the dance called " Jordan is a hard road" can hardly
be a favorite out of Hebrew circles. ' Money Musk" wap
THE POLKA, GALOP, ETC. 289
once an English dance. When there was a quarrel be-
tween the country people and the rich tradesmen at the
Bath bails, Beau Nash had some trouble to reconcile them,
but he appropriately sealed his success by ordering the
band to strike up " Money Musk." The " Lancers" are
a revival after many long years, and perhaps we may soon
have a drawing-room adaptation of the Morris-dance.
The only advice therefore which it is necessary to give
to those who wish to dance the polka may be summed up
in two words, " don't." Not sp with the galop. The
remarks as to the position in waltzing apply to all round
dances, and there is therefore little to add with regard to
the galop, except that it is a great mistake to suppose it
to be a rapid dance. It should be danced as slowly as
possible. It will then be more graceful and less fatiguing
It is danced quite slowly in Germany and on the flat foot.
The polka-mazurka is still much danced, and is certainly
very graceful. The remarks on the quadrille apply
equally to the lancers, which are great favorites, and
threaten to take the place of the former. The schottische,
hop-waltz, redowa, varsovienne, cellarius, and so forth,
have had their day, and are no longer danced in good
society. The only dance I regret is the German cotillon,
which was introduced a few years ago, but not approved
English people made a romp of it, and English young
ladies, an opportunity for marked flirtation ; besides which
English chaperons, not so patient as the same class on the
Continent, would not sit through it. Well I remember
the long hours through which we used to keep it up in
Germany, while mammas and aunts were dozing behind
their fans, and how vexed we were when its varied figures,
240 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
invented often on the spot, came to an end, and carriages
were called for.
The calm ease which marks the man of good taste,
makes even the swiftest dances graceful and agreeable.
Vehemence nuiy be excused at an election, but not in a
ball-room. I once asked a beautiful and very clever young
lady how she, who seemed to pass her life with books,
managed to dance so well. "I enjoy it," she replied ;
" and when I dance I give my whole mind to it." And
she was quite right. Whatever is worth doing at all, is
worth doing well ; and if it is not beneath your dignity to
dance, it is not unworthy of your mind to give itself for
the time, wholly up to it. You will never enjoy dancing
till you do it well ; and if you do not enjoy it, it is folly
to dance. But in reality dancing, if it be a mere trifle,
is one to which great minds have not been ashamed to
stoop. Locke, for instance, has written on its utility, and
speaks of it as manly, which was certainly not Michal's
opinion, when she looked out of the window and saw her
lord and master dancing and playing. Plato recom-
mended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka of
the day, when quite an old gentleman, and liked it very
much. Some one has even gone the length of calling it
"the logic of the body;" and Addison defends himself
for making it the subject of a disquisition. If I say much
more I shall have to do the same as Addison, and will
therefore pass to some other accomplishments useful, if not
necessary, in society.
On the Continent almost every boy is taught to play
the piano. A very false principle has, till lately, kept
our men from all the softer portion of life ; manliness was
identified with roughness, and every accomplishment which
MUSIC. 241
was suitable to a woman, was considered beneath the dig-
nity of a man. In short, it is not fifty years ago sinoo
to hunt, shoot, and drink your bottle of port, formed the
only accomplishments necessary for male society, and re-
finement did not extend beyond an elegance in bowing, in
taking snuff, and in gallantry to the ladies. Left to
themselves, men were ashamed to be anything better than
bears. Fortunately it is now agreed that manliness and
refinement are not opposed to one another.
I believe that there is a taste for music in every child
born, and that if it disappears in after life, it is for want
of cultivation. Was there ever yet a baby which could
not be sung to sleep ? However this may be, to play
some one instrument is of more value to a man than at
first sight appears. To the character it is a refiner.
Music is the medicine of the soul ; it soothes the wrinkles
of a hard life of business, and lifts us from thoughts of
money, intrigue, enterprises, anxieties, hatred, and what
not, to a calmer, more heavenly frame of mind. To a
man himself, therefore, the power to play is of use. He
may not always have a sister, wife, or daughter, to sing
and play to him ; he may not always be within reach of
the opera and concert rooms, and then, too, half the en-
joyment of music is gone, when you cannot enjoy it as
you list, and of what kind you need, gay or grave, as
your fancy lies. It is an indulgence to a pure mind, and
it is one of those few indulgences which are free from
harm.
But besides this, a knowledge of music h valuable to &
man in the society both of his own and the other -Bex. It
is a great recommendation among women, and vibrates on
a chord of sympathy between the sexes, when possibly
11
242 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
there is no other. Still more so where worn m are not,
and their want is felt. The man who can play an air ia
a hoon to the camp, the college ; or the Inn of Court.
Well do I remember how popular Jones was for his piano,
anl Smith for his cornet, at St. Boniface's. Yet Jones
and Smith were very dull men in themselves, and kept
very bad wine. What did we care ? We did not want
to drink with our mouths when we could do so with oui
ears. But if instrumental music recommend a man, still
more the cultivation of the natural musical instrument.
" He can tell a good story and sing a good song," is al-
most the best recommendation one bachelor can give of
another in a social point of riew, and if you can sing a
good ballad, or take part in a duet, quartett, chorus, 01
what not, you are invaluable in an evening party.
There are, however, a few points to be attended to in
connexion with playing or singing in public. In the first
place, as to a choice of instrument. The piano is always
acceptable, but however good a man's touch, it must be
remembered, it is not so agreeable in a room as a lady's.
Every other instrument should be accompanied by the
piano, so that unless you have some fair friend ready tc
play for you, it will be useless to take your instrument.
But under the most fortunate circumstances, your choice
is limited. The instrument must not be too loud or too
harsh for the sensitive tympanum of your fair audience.
No one would volunteer a solo on the drum, perhaps ; but
men who play but little, will sometimes inflict the haut-
bois 01 cornet-a-pistons on their unhappy listeners ; these
two instruments, and indeed every species of horn, can
only be tolerated in a drawing-room if extremely well
played, and therefore modulated. On the other hand, if
SINGING. 243
you care for your appearance, you will scarcely introduce
the violoncello. The fiddle is so common that people
will not care for it unless played with execution, and the
flageolet is scarcely worth listening to. There remains
the flute, and the guitar, which is a good accompaniment
to the voice, but should not be played by a stout or an el-
derly man. Concerts are so common now, and first-rate
performers so easily heard, that more than common pro-
ficiency will be expected from you on any instrument ex-
cept the piano, and you should therefore never take your
instrument with you unless particularly requested to do
so by the inviter, nor play more than once unless pressed
to do so by the lady of the house.
If you have a tenor or alto voice, a good ear, and a
knowledge of a few songs, you need never be afraid of
singing in public. A barytone being commoner, requires
more excellence to back it, and a base should be prohibit-
ed, /think, from solo exhibitions, unless very good. But
be the voice what it may, if you cannot sing in tune,
never attempt it. Others in the company will have better
ears than yourself, and politely execrate you. Time is
not so important, unless you join a duet, trio, or chorus.
The choice of songs is quite as essential as the choice of
an instrument. A man should not sing women's ditties,
and should never yawl out the namby-pamby ballads be-
loved of young ladies. A really honest love-song, in
which the words are as good as the music, becomes a tenor
or barytone well scarcely a basso. On the other hand,
the too ferocious style should be avoided. Comic songs,
as a general rule, are atrocious. Their want of wit is
not atoned for by the presence of slang, vulgarity, or evou
coarseness. They are usually written by men of inferior
244 ACCOMPLISHMENTS
tnind, often for the stage or public entertainments, an]
are purposely broad, in order to be understood by a mixed
audience. On the other hand, if you have essentially A
comic face and manner, and can sing a parody, or a more
i efined comic song with character, you may attempt it in
smal'. parties. In men's society, of course, the comie
song is the most popular.
V A man singing before ladies must remember their
nerves, and modulate his voice. \ He must also bear in
mind, that however well he sings* a lady's voice is more
Buited to a drawing-room, and unless pressed to do so, will
content himself with one or at most two songs. But a
man should not allow himself to be pressed too much, nor
affect diffidence like a young miss of seventeen. If he
has not sun.^ or played before, he should do so (if he can)
without hesitation, and with an amiable willingness, being
confident that the lady of the house desires to amuse her
guests rather than to flatter him.
In geueral society, the card-table in the present day ia
happily reserved for elderly people, but a young man may
be sometimes called upon to make up a rubber, and if so
he would mar the pleasure of others if he were not able
to take a hand. At the same time it is generally under-
stood that ladies and young men should not be asked to
do so, unless absolutely necessary, and if a hostess opens
a card-table, she should be able beforehand to select a
sufficient and suitable number of players. It is always
trying to see ladies play. It has been observed that
'^cmen have only two passions, love and avarice. The
latter ill becomes them, and yet so strong is it, that they
can rarely conceal it at the card-table.
Whore a number of guests are willing to play, the se-
MODERN LANGUAGES. 245
lection is made by drawing cards, and the highest drawers
are excluded from the game. At whist the two lower
and two higher drawers become partners respectively ;
the lowest has the first deal. The trial of temper then
ensues, and if card playing has no other virtue, it may
be commended as a test of temper and good-breeding.
Lose without a murmur, win without triumph. Nevei
insist too sharply on fines, and be ready to pay on the spot.
If unable to do this, you should pay the next morning at
the latest. It is always allowable to man or lady to say,
" I do not play," and the words are understood to mean,
that though able, you prefer not to do so. If a bad play-
er, you will do well to keep away from the table ; you
have a partner's interest to consult as well as your own.
As a general rule in good society, it should be understood
that one does not play for money, but with money. The
skill rather than the result of the game must be the point
of interest.
In round games, which are patronized by people who
have not the accomplishments to supply their place, or the
wit to do without them, the main fault to be avoided is
eagerness. Of single games, you should know as many
as possible. The finest of them is chess, which is worthy
of any man, and a splendid mental exercise. Without
aspiring to be a Morphy or a Staunton, you may by prac-
tice and thought become an excellent chess player ; but
the game is not a social one, and requires too much ab-
traction to be introduced in social gatherings.
Perhaps the most useful accomplishment to one's self
is a knowledge <)f languages. Independent of the great
superiority it gives you in travel, and the wide field of
literature to which it introduces you. you are liable in
246 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
really good society, especially in high London circles, to
meet with foreigners having a very slight acquaintance
witb English. Prom them you may derive a vast amount
of information, turn the slow current of your associations,
and even be amused more than by any conversation with
your own countrymen. The most patriotic John Bull
now admits that foreigners understand better than our-
selves the art of conversation, and though we may accuse
them of frivolity among themselves, we must remembei
that in English society their first desire is to make them-
selves really appreciated. As a rule, too, they are more
interested than we are in current history, and whatever
their prejudices or their ignorance, you will rarely meet
with a Frenchman, Italian, or German, from whom you
may not gather much curious information which will serve
you elsewhere. An untravelled man is always at some
disadvantage in good English society, where almost every
one but himself will have crossed the channel, but if he
has a good knowledge of continental language and litera-
ture, this disadvantage is materially diminished.
An accomplishment much overlooked as an accomplish-
ment, but one indispensable to good society, is to be able
to talk on current literature and passing affairs. Every
gentleman in the present day should subscribe to a circu-
lating library, and take in a London newspaper. Besides
taking in the latter, he should read it with judgment. He
should be able to form and give an opinion independent of
party prejudice on any question of common interest.
' Whatever his views, he should be able as a man of sense
and in order to be agreeable, to look on them independent-
ly, to support them reasonably, or abandon them grace-
fully. Politics, and even religion, can, I rejoice to say,
CARVING. 247
te discussed in the present day without inflammation and
acerbity, and, though the latter subject is better avoided
in mixed circles, a thorough gentleman will be able to bow
to another's opinion, and to put forward his own delicately
and sensibly.
There is one more accomplishment which is, fortunately,
fast falling into disuse. The days are done when an
awkward servant could anoint your head and best coat with
a whole dishful of gravy, or an unskilled gentleman might
be forced to bow to the lady on his right, with : "Madam,
I'll trouble you for that goose in your lap." Bad carv-
ing used to spoil three good things on the part of the
carver, good joints, good temper, and a good digestion.
Even good carving marred conversation, and to short men
it was a positive infliction, for I need scarcely say, that
under no circumstances whatever could a man be permitted
to stand up to carve. But because the carving of joints,
game, &c., at a side table, is a foreign custom lately intro-
duced into this country, there are people still found patri-
otic enough to prefer carving at the dinner-table. " I like
the good old English custom," says one; "I like to see
a host dispensing his hospitality himself;" and in the
country, where some hosts prefer meat to manners, it is
still retained. But I may ask whether hospitality con-
sists more in severing the wings from a chicken's body,
than in setting all your guests at their ease, and at once
leading off the conversation. Does it demand a distribu-
tion of good morsels rather than of good will ? The ad-
vocates of the " good old custom" may be reminded again,
that in former days it was the hostess, not the host, who
dispensed the viands, her husband being occupied with a
distribution of the wine, which is the reason why the lady
248 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
eat at the head of the table ; but what is the vJue of in
old custom universally disregarded, since no longer the
hostess, but the guest who has the misfortune to take her
in to dinner, is called upon to play the part of butcher ?
Can it be any more satisfactory to me to have my mutton
sliced by a guest than by the butler in my host's service ?
Another argument maliciously advanced, is contained
in the sneer : " No, no. thank you, I like to see my din-
ner, and know what I am eating." But what a slur upon
the hospitality of your host, to suppose he would give you
a cat for a hare, or a puppy for a rabbit ! We might as
well insist that he should sup our port before we drink it,
lest there should be poison in the cup a custom, by the
way, still retained in Bavaria where the kellnerinn, or
waitress, who brings you your quart of beer, invariably
puts it to her mouth before she hands it to you. But there
is a reason for that, since many a soldier in the Thirty
Years' War was poisoned at a beer-garden.
Carving is, however, still common at small parties and
family dinners, and it will be a happy time when it is
abandoned even there. , I have seen many an unfortunate
young man put to confusion when deputed to carve, by the
anxious looks of the host or hostess, and have even heard
such atrociously rude remarks as, "Thomas, bring that
fowl to me; Mr. Jones seems not to understand it;" nay,
I have seen people lose their temper so completely at
having their pet dishes hacked by the unskilful, as to pro-
duce an awkward silence through the whole company,
Then too, in family circles, more quarrels are to be traced
to a blunt knife or a difficult dish, than even to milliners'
bills, and I stayed for a short time in one house, whose
master at last got into a habit of losing his temper over
HINTS ON CARVING.
the joint, which he carved very ill at all times, and where,
in consequence, dinner was more dreaded than the pillory.
Indeed, as great results may often be traced to the most
trifling causes, I am convinced that half the domestic
tyranny of the British paterfamilias, and much of tho
bickering and irritation which deprive home of its charms,
may be traced to no greater cause than the cutting up of
a joint. The larger the family the greater the misery of
the carver, who has scarcely helped them all round, before
the first receiver has done and is ready for a second help-
ing. When at last the hungry father or elder brother can
secure a mouthful, he must hurry over it. at the risk of
dyspepsia, in order not to keep the others waiting.
But we are a nation of conservatives, and a custom which
descended from the days when a knight would stick his
dagger into a leg of mutton, which he held by the knuckle-
bone (hence the frill of white paper still stuck round it,
to slop in the gravy and look disgusting before the joint ia
removed), and carve him a good thick slice without more
ceremony, will not soon be got rid of, however great a
nuisance. It is therefore necessary, if you would avoid
irritation, black looks, and even rude speeches, to know
how to carve at a friend's table, whatever you may do at
your own. When thus situated, the following hints will
be found useful.
HINTS ON CARVING AND HELPING.
1. Soup is helped with a ladle. Take care that the
servant holds the plate close to the tureen, and distribute
one ladleful to each person.
2. Fish is cut with a large flat silver kni^e or fish-
slice, never with a common one. Of small fish, you send
#11
250 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
one to each person. All the larger flat fish, such aa tur
hot, John Dorey, brills, &c., must be first cut from head
to tail down the middle, and then in portions from this cut
to the fin, which being considered the best part, is helped
with the rest. Fried soles, on the other hand, are simply
cut across, dividing the bone. The shoulder is the best
part, and should be first helped. Salmon, being laid OD
the side, is cut down the middle of the upper side, and then
across from the back to the belly. A boiled mackerel
serves for four people. The fish-knife is passed from tail
to head under the upper side, which is then divided into two,
Cod is always crossways, and a small piece of the sound
sent with each helping.
3. Joints are helped with a steel fork, of which, if
you value your fingers, you will take care that the guard
is raised, and a carving knife, which for the sake of your
neighbor's teeth, if you do not care for your own, you
will never yourself sharpen. Let us premise that the
butcher and cook must assist the carver, and that an ill-
cut or ill-jointed joint augments terribly the torture of
the dispenser. It must also be premised that there are
more ways than one of cutting the same joint, that some-
times one, sometimes another is preferred, and that one
way will often be the more economical, another the more
elegant. Happy age when the butler shall have the re-
sponsibility of pleasing both the master and mistress of
the house, who invariably differ when there is an alter-
native !
The roast beef ofjOld England,- on which our glory 1*3
said to fatten and our pluck to thrive, appears on well-
kept tables in two forms only. The sirloin has an upper
and under cut, about which tastes differ. It is therefore
HINTS ON CARVING. 251
usual to begin with the upper or thicker side. The joint
muot lie with its chine bone towards the left, and its flap
to the right of the carver. It must be held steady by
inserting the fork near the flat-bone. (It may here be re
marked, that in all carving the fork should never be left
sticking in the meat, but withdrawn with the knife ; nor
should it ever be stuck in perpendicularly and grasped
with the whole hand.) One long deep cut must then be
made across the joint close to the chine-bone. The out-
side is next sliced off from the chine-bone to the flap, and
you then proceed to cut the meat in very thin slices ir>
the same direction. A slice of the fat on the flap must
be given with each helping. If the under cut is asked
for. you must carefully turn the joint so as not to splash
the gravy another of the fearful responsibilities of carv-
ing and then cut the meat across in thick slices. A
round of beef is easily carved till you come to the skew-
ers, and then agony commences ; and what with the im-
possibility of drawing them out with the hand, the diffi-
culty of doing so with the fork, and the quivering looseness
of the joint when the arrow is at last extracted from its
wretched flesh, a round with a round of beef is a more
trying combat, than successive rounds with the cook who
skewered, the butler who served, and the host who com-
pelled you to carve it. However let us hope for the best ;
there is good in all, even skewers ; and let us, inserting
our fork firmly into the enemy's side, cut his brown top
ff with a horizontal slice of our long sharp steel, the
longer and sharper the better for this joint, and proceed
to torture him by making a succession of very thin slices,
of which one is enough for any guest, except an alderman.
Boiled Itenf is more favored at dining-houses in the
252 ACCOMPLISHMEN Ib.
City than at company dinners at the West En 1. Tho
side is cut in very thin slices, which should be as broad
and as long as the joint itself, if you can cut them so.
Mutton appears generally in three forms. The saddle
is the best joint, and is best cut in very thin slices close
to the back-bone; or you 'may slice it horizontally from
the tail to the other end ; or again slanting from the back-
bone towards the fat, so that each slice shall carry its
own end of fat. A shoulder of mutton must lie with the
knuckle towards your right, and the blade-bone towards
your left. In the middle of the edge of the part farthest
from you place the fork, and there give one sharp dexte-
rous cut from the edge to the bone. The meat then flies
open, and you proceed to cut rather thick slices on each
side of the opening till you can cut no more. You may
then cut three or four slices from the centre-bone to the
end, and if there are more mouths to be filled, of which
your own, of course, will be one, you must turn the joint
over and slice the under side. The same shoulder of
mutton is a disgrace to a sheep, for do what you will, you
can never get enough' off it. Much more satisfactory is
the animal's leg. In the bosom of your own family, when
funds are low and butcher's bills high, the best plan is to
begin at the knuckle, cutting across in thick slices, and
so on to the top. But if your wife puts up with a knuckle
slice, your guests will not, and in company you must
therefore begin in the middle. The knuckle should point
towards your left. You then cut from the side farther
from you towards yourself, thus opening the joint in the
middle, and proceed to take thin slices on the right, which
some people prefer, and thick slices towards the knuckle
The little tuft of fat near the thick end is a delicacy, and
must be distributed as such.
HINTS ON CARVING, 253
The lamb, disturbed in its gambols, furnishes our ruth-
less appetites with two quarters (a fore and a hind), a
saddle, which is carved like a saddle of its elder relative,
mutton, and a loin which must be divided into chops.
The fore quarter consists of a shoulder, a breast, and the
ribs, which are served without separation, and the carver
has therefore the pleasure of turning butcher for the time.
This he does by placing the knife under the shoulder,
drawing it horizontally, and so removing the shoulder al-
together. This limb is generally placed on a separate
dish, and carved like a shoulder of mutton. You have
then to cut off the breast, and finally separate the ribs.
The hind quarter consists of a leg and a loin, the former
being cut across, the latter lengthways.
Veal gives us a head, breast, and fillet. If the first of
these appears in its normal form, not having been boned
and rolled, you must cut it down the centre in rather
thin slices on each side. The meat round the eye, a deli-
cacy, may be scooped out. A small piece of the palate
and the accompanying sweetbread must be sent on each
plate. A fillet of veal is simply cut in slices, which must
not be too thin ; and the stuffing in the centre should be
helped with a spoon. In a breast of veal the ribs should
be first separated from the brisket, after which either or
both may be sent round.
Roast pork is not often seen on good tables. When it
appears it is as easy to carve as a leg of mutton, but the
slices should be thicker and not so large. Two very small
slices are enough for an epicure ; let those who like it eat
more. The best part of roast pork is the crackling, if it
has been roasted with buttered paper over it. Boiled
pork, like boiled mutton, is only to be tolerated for the
254 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
sake of its proper accompaniments, but the taste for pease-
pudding, unlike that for caper sauce, can only be acquired
by a long residence in this country. Both these joints
are carved like a roasted leg of mutton. The waiter at
a hotel, who, when a Hebrew gentleman ordered " pork-
chops," considerately and delicately returned with poach-
ed eggs, was a man of taste as well as of breeding, and
knew that it takes much to make pork palatable. Not so,
however, with ham and bacon, which are meats to warm
the cockles of the heart, even of a Pharisee of the Phari-
sees, and while to enjoy the former one would always be
rich, one could be content to be poor for the sake of the
latter. Alas ! because bacon is a poor man's luxury, the
rich, or their vulgar cooks, will never admit it, or very
rarely. It must be cut as thin as a lady's vail, and in
delicate long strips rather than slices. A ham may be
cut in thred ways, by beginning either at the knuckle,
which must be turned towards your left, and slicing in a
slanting direction ; or at the thick end, which is then
turned to your left ; or, in the commonest manner, like a
leg of mutton, across the centre. In any case it must be
cut in very thin, delicate slices, such as the waiters of
now defunct Vauxhall won their fame for, and such as, to
this day, few people but the owner of a London cook-
shop car achieve. One small slice is enough as an ac-
companiment to a helping of fowl or veal.
Last of the joints comes tlteir best, the haunch of Veni-
son. To carve this the knuckle should be turned towards
your right hand, and above it a rapid cross cut made. A
cut lengthways from the other end to the cross cut, should
divide the meat about the middle, and slices of moderate
thickness are then to be taken on each side of the long
HINTS ON CARVING. 255
cut ; those on the left are the best, having the most fat
about them.
You are now wishing that edible animals grew like pil-
lows, to be sliced up like roly-poly puddings, and would
dispense for ever with the inconvenience of limbs, Iegs 5
shoulders, saddles, haunches, loins, sirloins, breasts, ribs,
fore-quarters and hind-quarters. But you cannot have
everything. If meat grew on trees it would not be worth
eating ; it is the exercise of the animal which makes it
tender and savory ; while, on the other hand, the best
meat is generally t 1 " 1 nearest to the bone. The only
riddle which Sir Edward Lytton was ever guilty of per-
petrating was this: " Why is a cat's taste better than a
dog's ? Because the dog's is bon (bone), but the cat's is
mieux (mew)." With all deference to Sir Edward, I
must give my opinion that the dog has the best taste of
all animals, which he displays in his preference for bones,
well knowing that the meat nearest to them is always the
most savory.
However this may be, you have not done yet ; indeed,
you have the worst to come, and there is fresh torture
for the carver in
4. Animals served whole. You may perhaps master
a Rabbit, because he may be treated like Damien, who
was broken on the wheel, by removing the legs and shoul-
ders with a sharp-pointed knife, and then breaking hia
back in three or four pieces by pressing the knife across
it and pushing the body up against it with the forfc but
when you come to that long, thin, dark, and scraggy ani-
mal, which with its crisp delicate ears sticking up, and
the large sockets where its eyes once were, looks like
roasted bottle-imp, rather than roasted Hare, what are
256 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
you to do, unless the cook has been skilful enougli tc
bone it for you ? You must first take care that your
knife has a sharp strong point to it, and therewith, hav-
ing the head o the hare towards your left, you will cut
off the legs, to wit, the hind legs, for carving and nat-
ural history differ in this matter, the latter asserting that
the hare is a quadruped, the former that it has only two
legs, and two " wings/' You will then cut two long
thin slices off each side of the back ; then take off the
"wings" or shoulders; then break the back into four
pieces with the aid of the fork ; then cut off the ears, and
lastly, turning the head towards you with the under side
uppermost, insert the point of the knife exactly in the
centre of the palate, and drawing it to the nose, thus di-
vide it into two parts. If you do all this without splash-
ing the gravy, you may take your degree in carving. But
to help a hare is more diplomatic still than to carve it.
The difficulty is to find enough for everybody who wants
it. The best parts are the slices from the back, the head
And ears. Never, however, send head or ears to a lady.
There is a good reason for this, which I won't tell you.
But if there is a minister in office at table, and you
want to ask him for a place, or there is a father whose
daughter's hand you aspire to, or an uncle who may pos-
sibly leave you a legacy, it is for him that you reserve
half the face, and one if not both ears. If he be at all a
gourmet, you will get his ear by sending him puss's, and
the delicate brain of the animal will fully compensate for
a want of it in your own head.
A fowl, if not in its premi Ve jeunesse, is more irri-
tating still than a hare, because you feel that when you
have done your '.>est, the flesh is not worth eating, except
HINTS ON CARVING. 257
at supper. There are two ways of beginning. Either
take the leg, wing, and part of breast off with one cut,
after having laid the bird on its . side ; or, allowing it to
remain on its back, with the breast and wings towards
you, and the legs away from you. insert the knife in the
side of the breast above the leg, and bring it down to the
joint of the wing, which is thus removed with a slice of
the breast. The liver wing, which lies to your right, is
the best, and should be taken off first. This done, insert
the knife just at the turn of the breast, bring it down,
and you have the merry-thought. The meat of the breast
is then easily sliced off, the legs having been turned
back with the fork. The side-bones come off next, in a
moment, if you insert the knife or fork in the right place,
viz., under the angular joint, and turn them out. The
back is then broken by lifting it with the fork against the
pressure of the knife, and lastly, the sides are removed.
The wing, breast, and merry-thought are the best pieces ;
the legs and sides are insulting. The great point in
carving a fowl is to do it quickly, and with the fork as
much, if not more than, the knife.
A partridge is carved like a fowl, but the legs being
joined, are simply turned back with the knife before the
operation commences. A pheasant is carved like a fowl.
Pigeons are not carved at all, but cut in two down the
middle ; the eater kindly saving the carver any further
trouble. Snipe is treated in the same way, and smaller
birds are always sent round one to each person.
Of a goose or a turkey we are told it is " vulgar " to
cut more than the breast, but there can be no vulgarity
in making a good dinner, and in the family circle you
mil be obliged to ipply to the wings and legs. However,
258 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
for company, slices of the breast suffice. The same
thing is said of the wild-duck, that best of birds ; but we
did not think so at Oxford, where we never left anything
more than their carcasses. The most productive bird is
the Scotch and Swedish capercailzie. I have known one
satisfy fourteen large appetites one day, three heavy
eaters the second, and what with hashing, grilling, devil-
ling, and picking, last the original purchaser a whole
week for breakfast afterwards. It might perhaps be
"vulgar" to carve such a bird as that; little Isss so
than offering a lady a k-g of ostrich.
CHAPTER VI.
FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
AN English lady without her piano, or her pencil, or her
mcy work, or her favorite French authors and German
poets, is an object of wonder, and perhaps of pity. Mu-
sic, the cultivation of which was, at one time, severely
censured as being carried to excess, has now become a
national want. Painting, and even modelling, are not
only pursued in the quiet of home, they furnish subjects
for an amateur exhibition. No woman can be wholly
fitted as a member of society, unless she can dance well ;
and to work neatly and skilfully at fancy work, is one of
the attributes of good female' society.
We are not, wo English, a nation of talkers ; natu-
rally, our talent is for silence. The few who distinguished
themselves in conversational powers have died out among
us, and their places will never, we have every reason to
believe, be filled up.
" The seat is vacant whereon Conversation
Sharpe gave forth such ^udied ban mote,"
or culled from the treasures of his vast memory the tit-
bits of old authors. Lady Morgan who, as she " circu-
lated" through a party, to use her own expression, de-
lighted both wise and simple, by her ever ready flow of
.(259}
200 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
words, and richness of anecdote and repartee, is gone,
and her throne is vacant.
The salon, which she collected around her, was, in its
capacity of passing hours in talking, more French than
English ; she its centre. We shall never see the like
again ; the world is too large, and we are too rich. Elo-
quence, even, went out with metal buttons and white
waistcoats : the House of Commons is only bored by it
now ; the Lords are proud and thankful to say they never
encouraged it. Eloquence, which is to conversation what
the garden flower is to the wild flower, the hot-house
grape to the poor sour thing that grows on the cottage
walls eloquence, which is but condensed conversation,
with all the essence of many minds in one, is regarded
in these practical days only as an interruption.
It thf refore becomes more and more essential that there
should be some talent to supply the want of good conver-
sation. And, for that end, there is nothing like music.
Music is r l repeat, the substitute, and the only one, for
conversational powers. It has its merits in that light.
Conversation sometimes aggravates temper: music soothes
it. Conversation challenges reply : music gives no an-
swer. Conversation is the rock of peril to the impudent :
they can scarcely, in playing or singing, commit an indis-
cretion. In talking, again, one may lose a friend, or even
make an enemy. Music is, therefore, an excellent source
of amusement for many occasions, and is become almost in-
dispensable to those who have frequently parties to re-
ceive. A lively waltz, or a soft movement, carefully
played, even without that great execution which compels
listening, are often aids to conversation : it flows the more
easily from that slight and agreeable interruption, it has
MUSIC. 261
indeed, still greater advantages : this world of ours has its
work and its troubles ; a parent or husband may leave
home from either or from both, to find a solace in music,
which changes the current of his ideas. A brother may
be almost, made domestic by the cheerful notes, which ho
finds pass the evening almost as rapidly as the club, 01
Jullien's, or the theatre. Few persons are wholly devoid
of a capacity for enjoying music, and even, if not gifted
with any great natural taste, a love of the art may almost
be engrafted on the nature by early associations. And
those associations, too, have their value. The air that
brings back home-born thoughts, brings back in some de-
gree the absent, the kind, the forbearing, the loving, the
honored.
The piaao still keeps its pre-eminence as the instrument
best fitted for society. The harp, it is to be regretted,
has for some years ceased to be fashionable ; perhaps the
greater attention, in modern times, to physical education
has banished the harp from the school-room. There is
every risk of the practising on this instrument producing
curvature of the spine ; whereas the piano, from exercis-
ing both hands at a time, and from the straight posture it
.requires, is useful to those disposed to such curvatures.
Duets on the harp and piano are, nevertheless, very de-
lightful ; and they used to produce a good effect in a large
room, when two sisters, or a professional lady and her
young pupil, a daughter of the house, opened the evening's
amusement with one of those exquisite Italian airs, set by
Bochsa or Chatterton. Simple melodies, sung to the harp,
are still very effective in society from their variety. A
harp requires a large room : it should be played with feel-
262 FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
ing and grace, or it becomes very unpleasant like the
jingling of a hired band. It requires stout nerves, cer
tainly, for the display necessary to execute an air on the
harp, perched on a high stool, and forming a pleasing
object, as well as being the vehicle of sweet sounds to the
whole company.
The guitar makes a graceful variety ; but is more ap-
propriate to a man's than to a woman's playing. It is
monotonous, and soon fatigues the attention ; but, being
easily portable, is often a resource in places and on occa-
sions where a piano cannot be had.
The same may be said of the zitter, one of the sweetest
arid most touching of string instruments ; but still, except
for the occasional playing of Tyrolean minstrels, unknown
in this country. It is of Bavarian origin, and is the oldest
instrument Jmown. Its plaintive and appealing sounds are
heard in Alpine chalets, or by the forester's fireside, as weU
as in the country revels of the inhabitants of Vienna, Inn-
spruck. and Munich. It is exquisite as an accompaniment
of the voice ; it is cheap and portable. A good zitter may
be obtained for thirty shillings or two pounds. It is flat,
and takes up little room, and should be placed horizon-
tally on a table, without a cover. It requires, however,
time and much practice to bring out those thrilling tones,
at once so touching and so peculiar. The most eminent
professors in Germany speak highly of the powers of this
sr>ll instrument, and say that it produces notes nearer to
those of the human voice than any other. Yet it is not
calculated for large concerts : we English must have noise
and show. The zitter is an Instrument for the boudoir ,
for lovers in a bower, for the poet in his turret, for
MUSICAL INSTRUMEN1S. 2G.S
the devotee to all that is soft, romantic, and unsophisti-
cated.
It seems scarcely needful to point to the violin and
violoncello as instruments unsuitable to young ladies ; yet
there have been women who have successfully cultivated
both, to the great credit of their perseverance, and the
great detriment of their feminine attractions. The con-
certina is, however, a beautiful and not inappropriate in-
strument, though I confess the inelegance of the attitude
required much lessens the sentiment inspired by the beau
tiful tones of the conce-rtina.
Nothing requires greater judgment, if not some expe-
rience of society, than the selection of pieces to play in
company. "Oh! how my head ached last night !" cries
an old lady; " we had a piece six pages long!" Some
ladies sit down (as it seems) with an intention of "giving
it rein" for their hearers. Through passage after pas-
sage, volleys of black notes are made to speak, and, as
page after page is turned over by a zealous friend, the
young musician labors at it, and does herself justice, and
her hearers a wrong : for a long piece is as bad as a long
story, and neither are fitted for society. A short, perhaps
brilliant, thoroughly well-learned air or movement by
some good master, is the best response to the often put
question, " Will you play something?" The loud, thump-
ing style should be avoided : if possible, the piece should
not be quite common and hackneyed; not what "every
one" plays. It should not be too mournful, nor too rapid.
On sitting down to the piano, it is very offensive to hear
fi young lacly find fault with the instrument, or complain
that it is out of tune a proof either that her temper is
264 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
out of tune, or that she wishes to impress on you the su-
periority of her ear, which detects the defect to yours,
which has stupidly overlooked it. All self-assertion, be it
about music, or singing, or dancing, or anything, is un-
pleasant, and always seen through. There is a certain
art too, in sitting at the piano : all movements of the budy
'should be avoided : well-bred people play without them,
and they are unpleasant to those sitting behind. Be ready
also to quit the instrument after finishing : in some cases,
when once seated, ladies seem to be glued to the piano,
and however fascinating may be their efforts, it is bad
policy to wear your audience out. Then another hint to
the amateur musician : be lenient, at all events, and en-
couraging, if you can, to otheVs! There is no need to
flatter ; but great reason, especially to those who play well,
to be amiable on this, as on other points. A little kindli-
ness, a polite attention to the feelings of ethers, wins manj
a friend ; for we are governed by the trifles of life.
Almost every well-educated lady can play a little ; but
that is not the case in respect to vocal music. Whether
it be owing to English climate or English constitution,
there is no saying ; but there is nothing more rare than a
good voice. It may, however, provided the ear be good,
be almost acquired ; but thea^the best instruction must b 3
obtained ; a dozen good lessons, taken not too soon, but
whenever the voice 1*8 formed, and the young lady plays
well are far more beneficial than a long course of inferior
teaching. It is important that a young lady should not
begin to sing in society too soon ; it is objectionable to
hear a learner, whose performance speaks of the school-
room ; it is far worse, however, to be condemned to listen
to a voice that is passed, of which the best notes are
SINGINO. 265
cracked or feeble , and there is something absurd in hearing
a stout matron
" A mother with her daughters or her nieces,
Looking like a guinea, with her seven shilling pieces."
as Byron impertinently has it singing with bygone em-
phasis about loye ; or a thin spinster, of forty or more,
holding forth in such songs as " I'll watch for thee," or,
" Don't forget me." Instrumental music is appropriate
to any age, but after forty the voice loses the delicious
freshness of youth, the style is no longer that of the day,
and even the finest amateur vocal performers have, lost
something, we scarcely know what, but something we miss
painfully.
When asked to sing, if you do not intend to do ao, re-
fuse so decidedly that you cannot be compelled ; but the
more decided the refusal, the gentler should the manner
be. There is a style of saying " No," that never offends.
You are asked as a compliment ; as a compliment receive
the entreaty. If you intend to sing, accept at once ; do
not hurry up to the piano, as if glad of an opportunity
of showing off, but go gently; if by request you have
brought your music, and it should never be brought to
those who know that you sing without request, leave it
down stairs ; it can be sent for ; but, since all pauses in
society are to be avoided, if you can sing without notes it
is as well ; at the same time, never attempt to do so unless
sure of yourself. A half-forgotten or imperfect song is
irritating. Something light and brilliant is best for a
commencement, or a little air not too well known Ger-
man, perhaps. For the sake of all the Muses, do not
attempt a long Italian bravura of Verdi or Donizetti, that,
12
266 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
perhaps, half the company have heard Garcia or Piccolo-
mini sing the week before, you must murder it to ears so
artistic as theirs. Or if you are singing to a homely au-
dience, the simplest song will please them better. The
difference between a professional and an amateur singer
should always be kept in view. The one is constrained
by interest to astonish ; the other has no other inducement
than to charm. The one is purchased, the other is a vol-
untary eifort to pass away time, and to do justice to the
composition of some of the popular masters of the day.
The form and movements of the body must be habitually
controlled in singing. In nine cases out of ten they spoil
the effect of the voice. Some ladies bend from side to
side, cast up their eyes, or fix them, with a rapt expression,
on the wax lights above them. Others make alarming
faces, protrude the under jaw, or what is worse assume an
affected smile. A good master suffers none of these de-
fects to creep in. He regulates the mouth, which shoulc
be as little drawn as possible ; open it must be, but should
appear to have an inclination to smile, without the abso-
lute smile. A great -deal depends on the right mode of
bringing out the voice. I confess it is a great sacrifice to
Bee one's friends look frightful, even when giving out the
\ cst delicious sounds ; nor is it essential. In the choice
of^ongs, variety is to be adopted. German music pleases,
generally ; but, let no one not conversant with the right
pronunciation of any foreign language, sing in it : there
is nothing so unpleasant as to hear broad French, mincing
German, or lisping Italian. Even in English, a good ac-
cent is the most essential thing possible ; and, also, n
{ ood articulation. A simple song, sung without great
powers of voic.fi, but well articulated, delights, because it
SINGING. 237
touches the understanding to which it appeals, and grati-
fies the ear which approves the modest and careful effort
of art. Witness the extreme pleasure, amounting to en-
thusiasm, afforded by the singing of the poet Moore. He
had no compass of voice ; what he had was musical, but
not eminently so ; but his singing captivated from the
clearness with which every word was uttered ; the way in
which every word told ; the easy, natural manner of the
poet at the piano. On one occasion. Mrs. Billington being
in one room, and Moore in another, of some great Lon-
don house, crowds flocked around the poet, whose touching
tones even drew them from the florid singing of the night-
ingale of her day. The same effect was produced by the
singing of the late Mrs. Lockhart, the daughter of Sir
Walter Scott, to the harp. She generally sang her fath-
er's poetry, set to music. Her taste, her feeling, and
truth of expression, riveted the attention, though her
voice had little power. The French excel in this species
of intellectual singing, if one may use such a word, but
theirs is chiefly professional. Who can ever forget Ma-
dame Jenny Denner's " Ma Tante," or Levassor's i( Yie
de campagne" ? Yet neither had the Average amount of
vocal powers of a village chorister.
After finishing one song, a lady should rise from the
piano, even if she be brought back again and again. Some
ladies are so aware what great injustice they do them-
selves by being induced to sing too much, that they make a
rule of only singing two songs at a party : but all set rulea
in society are bad. Nothing, however, can be worse than
to go on from song to song, till admiration, and even pa-
tience are exhausted, and politeness is driven to her wit's
end to be civil. Of course, it is almost needless to say
68 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
that sacred songs should be avoided in parties. I doabt
whether any of the deeper feelings should be paraded OP
light occasions, and if songs truly mournful are not bet-
ter reserved for small reunions of the real lovers of deep
pathos in music.
All accomplishments have the one great merit of giv-
ing a lady something to do ; something to preserve her
from ennui ; to console her in seclusion ; to arouse her
in grief ; to compose her to occupation in joy. And none
answers this purpose much better than fancy work, or
even plain work. The former can often be brought ad-
vantageously into the rear of other pursuits as a reserve.
The latter cannot well be carried into society, except ag
a charity. The Germans do this gracefully. At some of
their courts the great set the example. During Lent, at
Munich, they have working parties. The queen made a
baby's shirt, one evening, when one of these reunions was
held in the apartments of her grande ma tresse. The
king, meantime, was pulling lint for the hospitals. Every
lady of the court had some useful article before her;
warm shawls made with the crotchet-needle ; stockings
knitted; dresses, ^chiefly for children, from their being
small. Such are the labors that employ on certain eve-
nings the court and nobility of a nation whose aristocracy
is among the most ancient and still the ilch'est in Europe.
And conversation went round cheerfully. Little tables
were set about, and the assemblage was broken up into
parties, each table holding a lady or two, with a gentleman
near her. A terrible waste of time in small parties would,
indeed, be avoided, if some sort of work could be intro-
duced ; and, if young ladies were not condemned to be
idle for several hours, they would look better, and be
WORKING. 269
happier, more amiable, and less fatigued than they often
are at what is facetiously termed a "friendly party.' 1
Not that it is recommended to take into a party your
husband's stockings to mend, or dear Charles's shirts, over
which he was naturally so irritable at the absence of but-
tons, or Louisa's pinafores to run strings into ; let the
work have the characteristics of recreation combined with
utility, and the most scrupulous cannot be oifended. Such
is indeed the spirit of the day ; for we are a more sensi-
ble people than our grandsires were.
Sketching and archery stand first among out-door
amusements. They are healthy, elegant, and appropri-
ate to the feminine character ; while first thought of
mammas ! they assemble rather than exclude the young-
er members of the other sex.
CHAPTER VII
MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS,
TRUE politeness comes from the heart, and this being
good, the rest will soon follow. But, as Chesterfield says,
" good sense and good nature suggest civility in general ;
but in good breeding there are a thousand little delica-
cies, which are established only by custom." That which
militates most against good breeding is an indifference to
or want of consideration for the feelings of others ; and
what does this amount to but a bad heart ? A courtier
may hate me with civility, and a brigand rob me politely.
Is there not some good in the heart of both these men ?
Have they not a great consideration for my feelings ?
They cannot, they would tell me, help what they do ; I
stand in this one's way, and he must and does hate
me; I have a purse and the other is a robber, he
must and will take it ; but both of them, compelled to
treat me so ill, do it with a grace that removes half the
annoyance of it. The courtier conceals his hatred, and
what therefore do I care for it ? I do not even know of
its existence, and a passion which we never discover can-
not affect us. Then, too, if the highwayman politely and
delicately " invites" me to give up those few paltry
bank-notes, assuring me it is his " profession," that he
laments the necessity and that if I show no fight, no vio-
(270)
MANNER AND TIITi HEART. 271
icnce will be used, I have at least the comfort of being
saved from a fright, of being allowed free speech, of be-
ing given the option to fight or yield, so that when I
come to think how much an agreeable manner may do to
console and conciliate, I donit know whether I could ac-
cuse my worst enemy of a want of heart, if he behaved
like a gentleman to me. However, I am convinced that
if a man had not a good only, but a perfect heart, if all
his attention were directed to the comfort of others, and
he was willing perpetually to make the sacrifice necessary
to insure it, he would need little or no instruction in man-
ners more than a little experience. He would soon dis-
cover how this act or that gave offence or caused embar-
rassment to his neighbor; and while he saw nothing
wrong in it himself, would, for his neighbor's sake, avoid
it for the future. He himself might see no harm in
using a tooth-pick at dinner, but he would soon see the
obnoxiousness of it reflected in opposite faces, and down
would go the tooth-pick. Give such a man, ill-bred, even
unbred naturally, the time and the opportunity, and he
would turn out a gentleman. But first, where do you
find this perfect consideration for others, this brotherly
love, for it is nothing else, which descends to the minutest
details, and feels within itself the vibration of every
chord too rudely struck in other hearts ? Alas, where ?
Or, given the heart, how are you to insure the experi-
ence ? "Meanwhile, in waiting for hearts and experiences,
scoiety grows depraved. It is for this reason that we set
up laws of etiquette, as it is callod but laws of Chris-
tian action we might call them to insist upon the show
of that which ought to come spontaneously from the
heart. In doing so, we merely copy lawgivers of another
272 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
kind. Honesty is not honesty, for instance, if it come
not from within. The most respectable man miyht be
dishonest if he had the chance, and no fear of the law.
Nevertheless the law undertakes to make men appear
honest, because it knows that it is in vain to wait for
honesty in heart. The law tells the young thief he must
rob no more, and it may cure him of thieving and make
him turn out a respectable man in appearance ; but it
cannot be sure, because he does not thieve, that he has no
internal desire to do so, and would not do so if the fear
of the law were gone. So too, in just the same way, the
Jaws of society give rules by which a man may be amia-
ble and well-bred to all appearance; but it cannot a
whit the more insure the good feeling which ought to sug-
gest the good acts.
I say, then, that because Etiquette lays down rules by
which you are to appear to have a heart, she does noth-
ing worse than the laws of the realm, which show how
you may appear honest, and leave your heart alone.
This preface is necessary; because when I say a man is to
smile at such a time, and show dignity at such another,
the world might tell me I was teaching hypocrisy. I am
doing nothing of the kind. I am merely providing for
acts which are necessary to the wellbeing of society, be-
cause I know that if every one acted according to hia
heart, the world would soon be turned upside-do ^n.
So then I can manfully say that a good manner is a
good gift. We know all about oily serpents, we have
read enough of them in romantic novels, but I am bound
to say I prefer an oily serpent, by way of society, to an
unlicked bear. The serpent may not choose me to bite,
I may enjoy his society, I may never discover that he is
MANNER AND THE HEART. 273
anything worse than a harmless blind-worm with no sting
in him ; but I cannot have been > a minute with the bear,
before I am torn to pieces. When I hear of the serpent's
biting anybody, I can avoid him for the future, but in
the meantime he' is an agreeable companion, and I have no
right to judge my neighbor. I say then that a man
should curb his heart first, but if he cannot do or has not
done this, he has no right to come bellowing with irrita-
tion into the society of quiet people, merely because he
will not take the trouble to be mannerly.
Manner, then, I am bound to confess, is the cloak of
character^ but if to bare the character be indecent, it is
better it should wear a cloak than go about naked. Un-
til we are all perfect, until there is a millennium on
earth, it will always be indecent to wear our feelings in
Adamite costume, and so long will a garment, like that
of Manner, be necessary.
A good carriage involves two things, a respect for one's
self and a respecte for others. It is very difficult to draw
the line between the two, and to show where the one
should yield to the other ; but as the world goes, the man
who lespects himself is generally respected, and for a
very good reason, since without a due recognition of the
Divine spark within him, a recognition owed to his Maker,
no man can be really good. On the other side, cornea
the Christian precept which bids us love our neighbor as
ourself, and at once defines where self-respect must end.
Wherever our dignity, our prejudices, our opinions begin
to annoy our neighbors, to cause them pain, embarrass-
ment, or confusion, they must give way. How often do
we hear, " I think Mr. is a very excellent man, but
he ha-s a most disagreeable .manner;" the fact being that
274 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
Mr. , meaning very well, has not sufficient consider-
ation for others' feelings to temper his enthusiasm. And
then such a man wins his reward. His zeal clcvoura
him, and he annihilates by want of consideration all the
good he might have done. We see this very often in ex-
cellent well-meaning maiden ladies, who undertake the
supervision of their poorer neighbors. Wherever they
see a fault, they attack it harshly, unflinchingly, unpity-
ingly. The result is, that the poor they visit begin tc
loathe them and their visits, and instead of improving,
despise the improver. Then send to them some mild un-
taught girl, all love, all heart, all warmth, and bid her
win them back. She begins instinctively by attaching
them to herself, she is all interest, all kindness to them,
and when she has made their hearts her own, the least
expression of a wish will make them give up their dearest
vices. How well has it been put, " Smoothe the way to
the head through the heart," and we may be sure that
what is good here in morals is good in manners. Rude-
ness will never win the day; an amiable, kind manner
rides over the course.
The first rule, then, for Manner, is self-respect. With-
out this, a man is not only weak and bad, but unfit for
society. The want of it shows itself in two most disagree-
able forms, adulation and awkwardness. I believe both to
have no evil intent in themselves. Hundreds and thou-
sands of flatterers and hangers-on have never hoped to
gain a single benefit from their adulation. It is simple
weakness ; simple a,bsence of self-respect. But the world
will not always see it in so charitable a point of view, anj
the flatterer is denounced as interested. In any case, ad-
ulation is bad. for it is dangerous not only to the servile,
SELF-RESPECT A!ND SELF-ESTEEM. 275
but to those to whom it is addressed. Awkwardness may
often arise from shyness, but more often is the fruit of a
W.nt of self-respect. Both are to be sedulously avoided.
On the other hand / self-respect is liable to err on the
side of dignity, and self-respect is only one step removed
from self-esteem. The one is a vice; the other a virtue.
Self-respect is the acknowledgment of manhood, of the
good soul God has given you to take care of, of the part
He has given you to play in life. Self-esteem is an arro-
gance of superiority in these points. In the young it
takes the form of conceit ; in the older, of stateliness ; in
the woman, of vanity. We pardon it most readily in
middle-aged men, and yet I think- that the oppressive,
damping dignity of some of these is destructive of all ease
in society. When Paterfamilias asserts his rights, stand-
ing with his coat-tails spread before the fire, which he
hides from everybody else, we cannot, dare not object
openly, but we certainly feel chilled, inwardly by his sol-
emn dignity, and outwardly by the deprivation of caloric.
Scarcely less chilling is the arrogance of the younger
man, who can scarcely condescend to converse with us;
who brings his superior information down upon our humble
opinions, like an avalanche on an Alpine village ; who
3ontradicts us flatly, and sneers us into insignificance.
Conversation becomes impossible, and society is deadened,
under such influences.
More innocent, but not less contemptible, is the affecta-
tion which arises from incipient, often from full-grown,
vanity. In men it is simply contemptible, because effemi-
nate ; and the youth who purposely lisps or minces his
words, or the silky young curate who has, by dint of prac-
tice, forced down his natural vo:ce into a low, but as Anna
276 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
Maria asserts, most thrilling, whisper ; or the dilettante in
music, whose hair hangs in profuse curls, and who, as he
runs fat, white, beringed fingers over the notes, sways his
body to and fro, and casts his glances to either side in a
kind of rapture ; nay. even the unnaturally solemn man,
who looks you through as if he were casting up your
little account of sin for you, together with a thousand
other kinds of men, are all too obviously affected to retain
long the respect of sensible people. We know that nature
has its many faults to be curbed, but we know that where
nature is not at fault, it is most truthful to let her have
her run. By the side of the affected man. even the
bluntest looks noble, and for the very reason that affecta-
tion arises from a want of self-respect or excess of self-
esteem, extremes which resemble one another.
But I would almost dare to say that there never was a
woman who had not more or less affectation in speaking to
men. I am not a St. Anthony, but I believe it to be
natural to woman to alter their manner towards the other
sex ; so that I involve myself in a paradox ; it is natural
for them to be unnatural under these circumstances. I
am not going into the logic of it, but really this is only
an apparent paradox, and I may say with perfect truth
that it is natural for women to be sometimes unnatural.
If you doubt me, watch how Clara, the simplest, sweetest,
least sophisticated cf her sex, talks to you, a man. Then
put on the invisible cap and follow her to the drawing-
room, where she and her sisters will sit alone and talk.
If you see no marked change of manner in Clara, I will
admit that I am wrong.
But then there are grades in woman's affectation, and
while Clara seems to be " all nature," as they say in
EXAMPLE OF BAD MANNER. 277
modern novels, we can exclaim at first sight that Belinda
" is a mass of tarlatane and affectation." My dear Be-
linda, take in good part the warning of an old bachelor.
Believe me that men who are worth your arrows will not
be smitten with tinsel shafts ; believe me that the better
they are, the more they love nature in women, artlessness,
frankness, modesty. But then there is even an affectation
of naturalness, and you, Clarissa, who are past five-and-
twenty yes, I know it, for your little brother let it
out ! feel that you never can be really natural again in
society, and so you affect to be so, by becoming brusque
and somewhat pert. Men, Clarissa, are not such fools as
you imagine; they will see through this even more easily,
and there is no hope for you, but to be with them what
you are before your own looking-glass. But I am tres-
passing on the province of my col league, and I must re-
turn, very loath, to the men.
Let me give a few samples of manner to be avoided.
First there is Tibbs, short enough and clever enough to
be a great man, and such, I dare sa^, he will be one of
these days. But Tibbs feels within him the spirit of gov-
ernance, and has reverence for neither old nor young. He
walks with a short, sharp step, his little nose rather elevat-
ed, his eyes glaring to detect some weakness on which to
pounce. You put forward an opinion, the meekest you
can give : " It will turn out fine." " Beg your pardon,"
answered Tibbs, with that sharp snap,jwhich makes the
words sound like " Don't be a fool !" "it will not be a
fine day. I have good reason to know it, there." What
san you do with Tibbs, but collapse ? He treats his father
and grandfather, and mother and sister, all in the same
way, and they are cowed before him. Tibbs is never
278 MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS.
downrightly rude. You cannot catch him up and call
him a bear ; but his manner of speaking continually con-
veys the impression that Tibbs believes in his own acute-
ness only, and in nobody else's. He is the kind of man
who can open Shakspere, read a passage, and exclaim,
''Did you ever hear such nonsense?" giving you good
reasons forsooth, if poets and philosophers could be mea-
sured by the lowest standard of the dryest common sense.
Tibbs is all common sense, but by no means a pleasant
companion.
Very different is old Mr. Dawdles. He seems to be in
a state of chronic plethora. Say what you will on his
dearest themes, he has no reply for you but a yes or no
snivelled out. When he speaks himself, he appears to be
grumbling at you, however kind his words. You knew he
is good and means very well, and he would give you half
his fortune out of sheer kindness, but with a gesture and
tone of voice which would seem to say, " There, take it,
and don't make a fuss." He does hate a fuss, more than
all other abominations.
There is Slouch, again, whom I believe to be an incar-
nation of honor and uprightness, but who gives you the
idea of a sneak and a villain. He never looks you full in
the face. His shaggy brows hang over his lurking eyes,
and his words come cautiously and suspiciously wriggling
up to you.
But Pompous has the best of hearts. He has been
known to go out of his way for miles to leave a little some-
thing with a poor widow. And how the man wrongs him-
self ! He is very tall, and has a fine figure. He draws
himself up to the greatest height, and looks down on you
as if you were a Lilliput, and all the while he loves you
EXAMPLES OF A BAD MANNER. 279
but is ashamed to show it. He orders his wife and ser-
vants about with a calm imperiousness which makes them
dread him, and yet they all acknowledge they never knew
a kinder man, though I never yet saw a smile of pity or
sympathy on his face.
Far less admirable is that weak young Fitz whiskers, who
holds his head so very high, and walks down the room with
a curled lip, which seems to say, "What scum you all are !"
Then there is Commodus, an agreeable man, if you can
keep him within bounds. He sits down quietly enough
and you are pleased, but in two minutes he is making the
freest possible remarks, with no harm, no intentional of-
fence in them, but yet so intolerably familiar for a man
you have known but five minutes, that they quite upset
you. Only the other day I rashly introduced him to a
young lady, and she afterwards told me how he had be-
gun : " Were you at the -opera last night ?" this was
politely and quietly asked. " No." " How very fortu-
nate for those who were there ! Those eyes would have
singed a dozen hearts."
But Yivax is one of the worst. He talks atrociously
loud ; hails you from the other end of the table. " Will
trouble you for that, ha, ha ! and for this, ho, ho !" and
li Have you been dancing, Miss Smith ? ha, ha ! Then
of course you have, Miss Jones ? he, he ! and what do
you say to it, Mrs. Brown?" and he is round the whole
circle, from one to another, in two minutes, not waiting
for answers. Then he bustles about; tye must always
have something on hand. He drags you here one minute,
and rushes away from you the next. He talks as rapidly
as an auctioneer, and rattles over a dozen subjects in aa
many minutes. Pie is quick and clever, but when he has
280 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND UABITS.
jerked out his own thought, he clinches it with a ha, ha .
or a he, he ! and never waits for your answer.
Glumme is' just the reverse. You must do all the talk-
ing for him ; he will only drawl out a " No-o-o," or a
'' Ye-e-es," and wears a perpetual scowl.
Then there is Trippet, who seizes you by the button-
'\ole, and grows hot over the merest trifle ; Courte. who
replies with a sharp sneer ; Sterne, who has for ever a
look of reproof, though he does not mean it ; Fidgette,
who can never be prevailed upon to be comfortable ; Bluff,
who terrifies you with his curt blunt manner ; and Lack-
adaye, who is so languid that he cannot take the trouble
even to look at you. One genius whom I knew, never
removed his eyes from the lamp on the table ; another
rushed up to you, seized both your hands, and gazed with
apparent affection into your eyes ; a third spoke deep
truths in a low solemn tone, as he gazed at a spot on the
carpet ; a fourth moved his head to and fro, as if to avoid
your gaze : and a fifth, the greatest of all, never spoke
at all.
The manner, in short, which a man must aspire to, is
one which will give ease, and not embarrassment, to oth-
ers. He must preserve a certain dignity, but yet be
pliant ; he must be open, frank ; look you honestly in the
face, speak out confidently, yet calmly ; modestly, yet
firmly ; not be bluff or blunt, but yet be free and simple.
In fact, let a man be natural, let him be in society what
he is anywhere ; but if he find his natural manner too
rough, too loud, too curt, or too brutal, let him learn to
tame it and calm it down.
But manner has various functions for various circum-
stance. Towards our elders and superiors, we must show
THE PHYSICAL CAERIAGE. 281
an honest, not servile deference ; towards women, gentle-
ness ; towards juniors tenderness ; towards inferiors, a
simple dignity, without condescension. Aristotle, who wag
perhaps a better philosopher than gentleman, recommends
a haughtiness to superiors, and graceful freedom to in-
feriors. The world is old enough to judge for itself. But
when a man finds that his lively badinage suits a band of
dierry lissome girls, he must not be so wild as to rush at
Papa with the same kind of banter. Paterfam. may give
a smile to real wit and laugh at a good story, but the
same trifling which makes his daughters laugh so ring-
ingly. will only appear to him a familiarity when ad-
dressed to himself. Then, again, the gravity into which
you have fallen when discussing great measures with a
philanthropist, will afford no satisfaction to the airy mass
of tarlatane with whom you dance soon after. Solomon
has said it : there is a time to weep and a time to laugh.
In other words, be you as merry a jester as ever sat at a
king's table, you must not ol)trude your unweary mirth
at a visit of condolence ; or be you the " most bereaved"
of widowers, you will not bring your tears and sighs to
damp the merriment of social gatherings.
What applies to manner may be transferred in most
respects to that bearing which distinguishes a man in so-
ciety. But the times change much in this respect, and
the old courteous dignity with which the beaux of my
younger days behaved, has given way to a greater ease,
and sometimes, I fear, to too great freedom. I do not
know whether to regret or not, the strict courteousness
of those times. It often amounted to affectation ; it waa
not natural to be ever bowing low, making set speeches,
raising a lady's hands to one's lips, or pressing one's OWE
282 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
upon the region of the heart, but at the same time I re-
gret the lounging familiarity which we see too prevalent
among young men of the present day. There is not in
fact sufficient reverence for the fair and the old. Some-
times this, I regret to say, must be charged to the fault
of the former ; and a young lady who talks slang, or i
always with "the men," must expect to find them some-
times abuse her good-nature. But abstracts are ineffec-
tive ; let me come to some details as to the physical car-
riage of a man.
A certain dignity is the first requisite, but we must not
expect too much of it in the young, and we should not
emulate the solemnity of Charles the First, who never
laughed. It is a mistake, too, to suppose that height ia
necessary for dignity. Chesterfield, the most polished
gentleman of his day. was only five feet seven in height,
and Wellington and Bonaparte, both short men, have
never been accused of want of dignity. But at the same
time the assumption of it is more liable to become ridicu-
lous in a short than in a tall man. Dignity can never go
along with a slouching gait, and uprightness should be
acquired in childhood by gymnastics and ample exercise.
This uprightness, however, should not go to the extent of
curving the back inwards, (p'he chest should be expanded,
but not so much as to make "a presence." The head
should be set well back on the shoulders, but not tossed
up nor jerked on one side with that air of pertness you
see in some men. People of height are often foolish
enough to mar it by bending the head forward, whereas,
if carried well, a tall figure is never awkward, even among
Lilliputs. An standing, the legs ought to be straight, or
oue of them bent a little, but not set wide apart. In
CARRIAGE. 283
talking, they should be moved gently but firmly from the
hips, so that the upper part of the body may remain in
the same position) How often from my window have I
been able to mark a man by his walk ! One comes strid-
ing stoutly like a captain on quarter-deck ; another sham-
bles his feet along the pavement ; a third swings his arms
violently ; a fourth carries them bowed out before him like
a dancing-master of the old school; a fifth turns out his
huge feet at an angle of forty-five ; another jerks forward
his pointed toes like a soldier at drill ; another sways his
body from side to side ; another looks almost hump-back-
ed, as he moves heavily on ; one more saunters listlessly
with his hands in his pockets ; this one moves his arms
back behind him, and that one carries them stiff and
straight as iron bars, with his fists clenched like knobs at
the end thereof. The feet must be turned outwards very
little indeed ; the arms should be carried easily and very
slightly bent at the sides, and in walking should be moved
a little, without swinging them ; and the shoulders should
never be shrugged up. Avoid stiffness on the one hand,
lounging on the other. Be natural and perfectly at your
t)ase, whether in walking or sitting, and aspire to calm
confidence rather than loftiness.
There is, however, one good habit which must not be
overlooked. \<m should never speak without' a slight
smile, or at least a beam of good will in your eyes, and
that to all, whether your equals or inferiors^- To the
latter it is especially necessary, and often wins you more
love than the most liberal benevolence. But this smile
should not settle into a simper, nor, when you are launch-
ed in 'a conversation, should it interfere with the earnest-
284 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
ness of jour manner. To a lady it should be more marked
than to a man.
In listening, again, you should manifest a certain inte-
rest in what a person is saying ; and however little worthy
of your attention, you should not show that you think it
so by the toss of your head or the wandering of your
eyes. In speaking to any one you should look them in
the face, for the eyes always aid the tongue, but you
should not carry this to the extent of wriggling yourself
Forward in order "to catch their eyes, if there happen to
be another person between you.
It is painful to see the want of ease with which some
men sit on the edge of a chair ; but at the same time the
manner 'in which others throw themselves back and stretch
forward their legs savors too much of familiarity. You
may cross your legs if you like, but not hug your knees
nor your toes. Straddling a chair, and tilting it up may
be pardonable in a bachelor's rooms, but not in a lady's
drawing-room. Then, if you carry a walking-stick or
umbrella in the street, you should avoid swinging them
violently about, or tucking them under the arm. Both
are dangerous to your neighbors, for in the one case you
may inadvertently strike a person and get into as great
trouble as the individual who was brought up the other
day for assaulting a woman with a cricket-bat, which he
affirmed he was merely swinging about carelessly ; in the
other, the point of your stick may run into some unfortu-
nate creature's eye.
Foreigners talk with their arms and hands as auxilia-
ries to the voice. The custom is considered vulgar by us
calm Englishmen, and a Parisian, who laughs at our
HABITS. 285
ladies' dressing, will still admit that our men are " dis-
tingu'-s, metis tr^s distinguish If the face follows the
words, and you allow, without grimacing, your eyes and
smile to express what you are saying, you have no need
to act it with the hands, but, if you use them at all, it
should be very slightly and gracefully, never bringing
down a fist upon the table, nor slapping one hand upon
another, nor poking your fingers at your interlocutor.
Pointing, too, is a habit to be avoided, especially pointing
with the thumb over the shoulder, which is an inelegant
action. In short, while there is no occasion to be stolid
or constrained, you should not be too lively in your ac-
tions, and even if led away by the enthusiasm of an argu-
ment, should never grow loud, rant, or declaim. No
manner is more disagreeable than that of vehement affir-
mation or laying down the law.
With these remarks I may pass to consider certain
habits which are more or less annoying to your neighbors.
First, there is that odious habit of touching the nose and
ears with the fingers, for which there is no excuse. Every
part of the person should be properly tended in the dress-
ing-room, never in the drawing-room, and for this reason
picking the teeth, however fashionable, it may once have
been, scratching the head, the hands, or any part of the
body, are to be avoided. Mr. Ourzon tells us that at
Erzeroum it is quite the fashion to scratch the bites of a
little insect as common there as in certain London hotels,
and it is even considered a delicate attention to catch the
lively creatures as they perch on the dress or shoulders
of your partner. Fortunately we are not tempted to per-
form such attentions in this country ; but if you have the
misfortune to be bitten or stung by any insect, you must
286 MANNER, CARRIAGE. AND HABITS.
endure the pain without scratching the bite in company
These same little insects being of very disagreeable origin,
are not even spoken of with us. Biting the nails, again,
is not only a dirty habit, but one which soon disfigures
the fingers. So too in blowing your nose, you must not
make the noise of a trumpet, but do it gently and quiet-
ly ; and, when you sneeze, use your handkerchief. I do
not go the length of saying that you must repress a
sneeze entirely. There is a pleasant custom, still univer-
sal in Germany and Italy, and retained among the peas-
antry in some parts of England, of blessing a person who
has sneezed, benedicite, Gott segne sie, and "bless you,"
being the terms used, probably in the hope that the prayer
may keep you from cold.
Sneezing brings me to snuffing, which is an obsolete
custom, retained only by a few old gentlemen, and as it
is a bad one, no young man should think of reviving it.
But what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh
taught our gallants to puff in capacious bowls ; which a
royal pedant denounced in a famous ''Counterblast;"
which his flattering ~ laureate, Ben Jonson, ridiculed to
please his master : which our wives and sisters protest
gives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a man
can indulge in ; of which some fair favorers declare that
they love the smell, and others that they will never marry
an indulger (which, by the way, they generally end in
ioing); which has won a fame over more space and among
better men than Noah's grape has ever done ; which doc-
tors still dispute about, and boys still get sick over ; but
which is the solace of the weary laborer ; the support of
the ill-f' 3d ; the refresher of over-wrought brains ; the
toother of angry fancies ; the boast of the exquisite ; tho
THE EFFECTS OF SMOKING. 287
excuse of the idle ; the companion of the philosopher ;
and the tenth muse of the poet. I will go neither into
the medical nor the moral question about the dreamy,
calming cloud. I will content myself so far with saying
what may be said for everything that can bless and curso
mankind, that, in moderation, it is at least harmless ; but
what is moderate and what is not, must be determined in
each individual case, according to the habits and constitu-
tion of the subject. If it cures asthma, it may destroy
digestion ; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess, pro-
duce a chronic irritability.
But I will regard it in a social point of view ; and, first,
as a narcotic, notice its effects on the individual character.
I believe, then, that in moderation it diminishes the vi-
olence of the passions, and particularly that of the tem-
per. Interested in the subject, I have taken care to
seek instances of members of the same farmMv having
the same violent tempers by inheritance, 01 wliom the
one has been calmed down by smoking, and the other
gone on in his passionate course. I believe that it in-
duces a habit of calm reflectiveness, which causes us to
take less prejudiced, perhaps less zealous views of life, and
to be therefore less irritable in our converse with our fel-
low creatures. I am inclined to think that the clergy, the
squirearchy, and the peasantry are the most prejudiced
and most violent classes in this country ; there may be
other reasons for this, but it is noteworthy that these are
the classes which smoke least. On the other hand. I con-
fess that it induces a certain lassitude, and a lounging, easy
mode of life, which are fatal both to the precision of man-
ners and the vivacity of conversation. The mind of a
smoker is contemplative rather than <*tive ; and if the
288 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
weed cures our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that
it is a fallacy to suppose that it encourages drinking.
There is more drinking and less smoking in this than in
any other country of the civilized world. There was
more drinking among the gentry of last century, who
never smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well
together. Coffee or beer are its best accompaniments, and
the one cannot intoxicate, the other must be largely im-
bibed to do so. I have observed among young bachelors
that very little wine is drunk in their chambers, and that
beer is gradually taking its place., The cigar, too, is an
excuse for rising from the dinner-table where there are no
ladies to go to.
In another point of view, I am inclined to think that
smoking has conduced to make the society of men when
alone less riotous, less quarrelsome, and even less vicious
than it was. Where young men now blow a common
cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful consumption
of wine, and this in their heads, they were ready and
roused to any iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelor's
wife. With it he can endure solitude longer, and is not
forced into low society in order to shun it. With it too
the idle can pass many an hour, which otherwise he would
have given, not to work, but to extravagant devilries.
With it he is no longer restless and impatient for excite-
ment of any kind. We never hear now of young blades
issuing in bands from their wine to beat the watch or
disturb the slumbering citizens, as we did thirty or forty
years ago, when smoking was still a rarity : they are all
puffing, harmlessly in their chambers now. But, on the
other hand, I foresee with dread a too tender allegiance to
the pipe, to the destruction of good society, and the aban-
THE ETIQUETTE OF THE WEED. 280
donment of the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear
creatures ; the pipe is the worst rival a woman can have :
and it is one whose eyes she cannot scratch out ; who im-
proves with age, while- she herself declines ; who has an
art which no woman possesses, that of never wearying her
devotee ; who is silent, yet a companion ; costs little, yet
gives much pleasure ; who, lastly, never upbraids, and
always yields the same joy. Ah ! this is a powerful rival
to wife or maid, and no wonder that at last the woman suc-
cumbs, consents, and rather than lose her lord or master,
even supplies the hated herb with her own fair hands.
And this is what women have come to do on the Conti-
nent ; but in America they have gone further, and ad-
mitted the rival to their very drawing-rooms, where the
unmanly husband stretches his legs on the sofa, smokes,
and spits on the carpet. Far be it from our English
women to permit such habits ; and yet, as things are, a
little concession is prudent. There was not so much
drinking when withdrawing-rooms were the privilege of
palaces, and matrons sat over the cups of their lords, and
there will not be near so much smoking where ladies are
present. I have no wish to see English girls light their
own cigarettes or puff their own chibouks, like the houris
f Seville and Bagdad ; but I do think that, as smoking
Is now so much a habit of Englishmen, it would be wise
if it were made possible , within certain well-guarded lim-
itations, in the society of ladies.
As it is, there are rules enough to limit this indulgence.
One must never smoke, nor even ask to smoke, in the com-
pany of the fair. If they know that in a few minutes you
will be running off to your cigar, the fair will do well say
it is in a garden, or so to allow you to bring it out and
13
290 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
smoke it there. One must never smoke, again, in th
streets ; that is, in daylight. The deadly crime i.iaj
be committed, like burglary, after dark, but not before
One must never smoke in a room inhabited at times bj
the ladies ; thus, a well-bred man who has a wife or sisters,
will not offer to smoke in the dining-room after dinner.
One must never smoke in a public pbce, where ladies are
or might be, for instance, a flower-show or promenade.
One may smoke in a railway-carriage in spite of by-laws,
if one has first obtained the consent of every one present ;
but if there be a lady there, though she give her consent,
smoke not. In nine cases out of ten, she will give it from
good-nature. One must never smoke in a close carriage ;
one may ask and obtain leave to smoke when returning
from a pic-nic or expedition in an open carriage. One
must never smoke in a theatre, on a race-course, nor in
church. This last is not, perhaps a needless caution. In
the Belgian churches you see a placard announcing, " Ici
on ne m_\che pas du tabac." One must never smoke when
anybody shows an objection to it. One must never smok(
a pipe in the streets ; one must never smoke at all in the
coffee-room of a hotel. One must never smoke, without
consent, in the presence of a clergyman, and one must
never offer a cigar to any ecclesiastic over the rank of
cuiate.
But -if you smoke, or if you are in the company of
smokers, and are to wear your clothes in the presence of
ladies afterwards, you must change them to smoke in. A
host who asks you to smoke, will generally offer you an
old coat for the purpose. You must also, after smoking,
rinse the mouth well out, and, if possible, brush the teeth.
You should never smoke in another person's house without
HABITS Al TABLE. 291
leave, and you should not ask leave to do so, if there are
ladies in the house. When you are going to smoke a cigar
yourself, you should offer one at the same time to anybody
present, if not a clergyman or a very old man. You
should always smoke a cigar given to you, whether good
or bad, and never make any remarks on its quality.
Smoking reminds me of spitting, but as this is at all
times a disgusting habit. I need say nothing more than
never indulge in it. Besides being coarse and atrocious,
it is very bad for the health.
There are some other habits which are disagreeable
to your company. One is that of sniffling or breathing
hard through the nostrils, which is only excusable if you
hare a cold, and even then very disagreeable. Another
is that of shaking the table with your leg, a nervous habit,
which you may not always be conscious of. Then again,
however consoling to sing and hum to yourself, you must
remember that it may annoy others, and though you may
whistle when alone, " for want of thought," you will
whistle in company only for want of consideration of oth-
ers. Ladies particularly object to whistling, which is a
musical, but not very melodious habit.
We now come to habits at table, which are very im-
portant. However agreeable a man may be in society,
if he offends or disgusts by his table traits, he will soon
be scouted from it, and justly so. There are some broad
rules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant
to help you, never help yourself. Never put a knifo
into your mouth, not even with cheese, which should be
eaten with a fork. Never use a spoon for anything but
liquids. Never touch anything edible with your finders.
Forks were undoubtedly a later invention than fingers
292 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
but as we are not cannibals, I am inclined to tbink
were a good one. There are some few things which you
may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure will eat
even macaroni with his fingers ; and as sucking asparagus
is more pleasant than chewing it, you may as an epicure,
take it up au natural But both these things are gener
ally eaten with a fork. Bread is of course eaten with the
fingers, and it would be absurd to carve it with your
knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be
broken when not buttered, and you should never put a
slice of dry bread to your mouth to bite a piece off. Most
fresh fruit too is eaten with the natural prongs, but when
you have peeled an orange or apple, you should cut it
with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in break-
ing it. Apropos of which I may hint that no epicure
ever yet put knife to apple, and that an .orange should be
peeled with a spoon. But the art of peeling an orange
so as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is one
that can scarcely be taught in a book.
However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you
whether you are a well-bred man or not ; and here let me
premise that what is good manners for a small dinner is
good manners for a large one, and vice versa. Now, the
first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir ! pray do not
cram yourself into the table in that way ; no, nor sit a
yard from it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and
in the way of easy conversation ! Why. dear me, you
are positively putting your elbows on the table, and now
you have got your hands fumbling about with the spoons
and foiks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock
glasses over. Can't you take your hands 5own, sir?
Didn't you learn that in the nursery? Didn't your
HABITS AT TABLE. 293
mamma say to you, " Never put your hands above the
table except to carve or eat!" Oh ! but come, no non-
sense, sit up if you please. I can't have your fine head
of hair forming a side dish on my table ; you must not
bury your face in the plate, you came to show it, and it
ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion tc
throw your head back like that, you look like an alder-
man, sir, after dinner. Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy
way. You are here to eat, drink, and be merry. You
can sleep when you get home.
Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got
none, indeed ! Very likely, in my house. You may be
sure that I never sit down to a meal without napkins. I
don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and I
don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well now,
we are all seated, you can unfold it on your knees : no, no ;
don't tuck it into your waistcoat like an alderman ; and
what ! what on earth do you mean by wiping your forehead
with it ? Do you take it for a towel ? Well, never mind,
I am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a
pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your
right, and wait till soup is handed to you. By the way,
that waiting is a most important part of table manners,
and as much as possible you should avoid asking for any
thing or helping yourself from the table. Your soup you
eat with a spoon I don't know what else you could eat
it with but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that
Tvill do, but I beg you will not make that odious noise in
drinking your soup. It is louder than a dog lapping
water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then you
need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it
to get the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some
294 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.
more ; but I must just remark, that it is not the custom
to take two helpings of soup, and it is liable to keep other
people waiting, which, once for all, is a selfish and intoler-
able habit. But don't you hear the servant offering you
sherry ? I wish you would attend, for my servants have
quite enough to do, and can't wait all the evening while
you finish that very mild story to Miss Goggles. Come,
leave that decanter alone. I had the wine put on the
table to fill up ; the servant will hand k directly, or, as
we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself, but,
pray, do not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some,
turbot to keep him quiet. I declare he cannot make up
his mind.) You are keeping my servant again, sir. Vv r ill
you, or will you not, do turbot ? Don't examine it in that
way : it is quite fresh. I assure you, take or decline it
Ah, .you take it, but that is no reason why you should
take up a knife too. Fish, I repeat, must never be touched
with a knife. Take a fork in the right, and a small piece
of bread in the left hand. Good, but ? Oh! that is
atrocious ; of course you must not swallow the bones, but
you should rather do so than spit them out in that way.
Put up your napkin like this, and land the said bone on
your plate. Don't rub your bread in the sauce, my good
man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters
therein. Oh ! how horrid ; I declare your mouth was
wide open and full of fish. Small pieces, I beseech you ;
and once for all, whatever you eat, keep your mouth shut^
ind never attempt to talk with it full.
So now you have got a plte. Surely you are not taking
two on your plate. There is plenty of dinner to come,
and one is quite enough. Oh ! dear me, you are incor-
rigible. What ' a knife to cut that light, brittle pastry ?
HAB:TS AT TABLE. 205
No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon almost as bad.
Take your fork, sir, your fork ; and now you have eaten,
oblige me by wiping your mouth and moustache with your
napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry hanging to the lat-
ter, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can refuse
a dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you
to take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, do
not be in that terrific hurry. You are not going off by
the next train. Wait for the sauce and wait for vegeta-
bles ; but whether you eat them or not, do not begin before
everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that
of a railway refreshment-room, for you have finished be-
fore the person I helped first. Fast eating is bad for the
digestion, my good sir, and not very good manners either.
What ! are you trying to eat meat with a fork alone ? Oh !
it is sweetbread, I beg your, pardon, you are quite right.
Let me give you a rule, Everything that can be cut with-
out a knife, should be cut with a fork alone. Eat your veg-
etables therefore with a fork. No, there is no necessity to
take a spoon for peas ; a fork in the right hand will do.
What ! did I really see you put your knife into your
mouth ? Then I must give you up. Once for all, and
ever, the knife is to cut, not to help with. Pray, do not
munch in that noisy manner ; chew your food well, but
softly. Eat slowly. Have you not heard that Napoleon
lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast ? It is a fact
though. His haste caused indigestion, which made him
incapable of attending to the details of the battle. You
see you are the last person eating at table. Sir, I will
not allow you to speak to my servants in that way. Jf
they are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do
it gently, and in a low tone, and thank, a servant just as
96 MANNER, CARRIAGE AND HABITS.
much as you would his master. Ten to one he is as good
a man : and because he is your inferior in position, is the
very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh ! it ia
of no use to ask me to take wine ; far from pacifying me,
it will only make me more angry, for I tell you the custom
is quite gone out, except in a few country villages, and at
a mess-table. Nor need you ask the lady to do so. How-
ever, there is this consolation, if you should ask any one
to take wine with you, he or she cannot refuse, so you
have your own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me
to hob and 'nob, or trinquer in the French fashion with
arms encircled. Ah ! you don't know, perhaps, that when
a lady trinques in that way with you, you have a right to
finish off with a kiss. Very likely indeed, in England :
But it is the custom in familiar circles in France, but then
we are not Frenchmen. Will you attend to your lady,
sir ? You did not come merely to eat, but to make your-
self agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at
Thebes ; talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some
pudding. No knife no, no. A spoon if you like, but
better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon ; there is a
small one handed you, take that.
Say "no." That is the fourth time wine has been
handed to you, and I am sure you have had enough.
Decline this time if you please. Decline that dish too.
Are you going to eat of everything that is handed ? I
pity you if you do. No, you must not ask for more cheese,
and you must eat it with your fork. Break the rusk with
your fingers. Good. You are drinking a glass of old
port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never
drink a whole glassful of anything at once.
Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take wlrchevei
HABITS AT TABLE 297
wine you like, but remember you must keep to that, and
not change about. Before you go up stairs I will allow
you a glass of sherry after your claret, but otherwise drink
of one wine only. You don't mean to say you are help-
ing yourself to wine before the ladies. At least offer it
to the one next to you. and then pass it on, gently, not
with a push like that. Do not drink so fast ; you will
hurry me in passing the decanters, if I see that your glass
is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are
gone, but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And
now they are gone, draw your chair near mine, and I will
try and talk more pleasantly to you. You will come out
admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching.
What ! you are excited, you are talking loud to the col-
onel. Nonsense. Come and talk easily to me or to your
nearest neighbor. There, don't drink any more wine, for
I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me to make
a move. You have had enough of those walnuts ; you
' are keeping me, my dear sir. So now to coffee (one cup)
and tea, which I beg you will not pour into your saucer
to cool. Well, the dinner has done you good, and mo too.
Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so.
. CHAPTER VIII.
THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
"To be civil with ease," it has been well remarked, con-
stitutes good breeding. The English, it is added, have
not les manures przvenantes ; " when they want to be
civil, they are ashamed to get it out." Since the man-
ners are generally formed for good or for bad before
thirty although they may improve or deteriorate after
that age it is to the young that a few admonitions should
be offered.
" To the young?" The young are perfect now-a-days !
Ours is the age of self-assertion. " I shall be surprised
at any one who can point out a single defect in my daugh-
ters." says a well-satisfied mamma. "Teach us /" ve-<
spond the young ladies in a chorus, u what does the crea
ture mean?" " My .dears," murmurs a tremulous voice
from the other end of the room, grandmamma's corner,
" don't say that ; in my younger days it was the fashion
for young ladies, if they were not really humble and
timid, to appear so. I never came into a room as you,
Arabella, do, as if I could walk over every one, and didn't
mind ; nor crept in, Helen, like you, as if you had been
doing something in the passage you were ashamed of:
nor plumped down into a chair like you, Sophia, nor ."
Here they all interrupt poor grandmamma with a loud,
simultaneous laugh, for she is certainly quite out of date ;
and knows nothing of the matter.
(298)
ON FIRST INTRODUCTION. 299
She might have laid down immutable rules for good
breeding ; she might have said, with the great Lord Chat-
ham, who probably was the best-bred man of his time,
that "politeness is benevolence in trifles;" with RocLc-
foucault, " that it is the mind that forms the manners;''
but who would have listened to her ? Arabella would
have called out, " Who cares for such old fogrums now ?"
and Helen have added, that she thought Lord Chester-
field and " all that humbug about manners quite a sell."
Yes, it is true ; nous avons change tout cela. Except
in the very highest classes, where politeness and a good
carriage are taught from infancy the higher classes being
more retentive of old forms than any others ; except there,
where what is called the " old school" has not died out, it
is now not only allowable, but even thought clever, to be
loud, positive, and rapid ; to come into the room like a
whirlwind, carrying all before you ; to look upon every
one else as inferiors, with the idea that it enforces that
conviction ; to have your own set of opinions and ideas,
without the least reference to what others think ; and to
express them in terms which would have been far better
comprehended in the stable than by a Company of ladies
and gentlemen some twenty years ago. Even in the high-
est classes, these watering-place manners so let us call
them are on the increase, but only amongst a certain
set, who give the tone to a set, emulating their merits,
below 4hem.
It is as well to suggest to the young, " to be early,
what they will, in later life, wish they had always been."
Unhappily those who compose society are prone to bor-
row their ideas from the class above them, and do not
think for themselves. Melissa, the attorney's daughter
300 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
catches up a few words of slang from the county mem
ber's daughter at the last races, and thinks it pretty tc
use those phrases vigorously. Philippa, the good old rec-
tor's favorite child, hears Lady Elizabeth contradict her
mamma, and takes the same cue herself, as the certainty
of doing the right thing. Modesty and simplicity, the
offspring of reverence, dare not show their faces, and are
voted " slow."
Since language is the exponent of character, it is ne-
cessary to refer to its abuse, as if it does not in all cases
actually show a vulgar and pretentious mind, it is apt to
render it so.
An agreeable, modest, and dignified bearing is, in the
younger period of a woman's existence, almost like a por-
tion to her. Whatever may be the transient tone and
fashion of the day, that which is amiable, graceful, and
true in taste, will always please the majority of the world.
A young lady, properly so called, should not require to
have allowances made for her. Well brought up, her ad-
dress should be polite and gentle, and it will, soon after
her introduction to society, become easy " to be civil with
ease." Let us repeat the golden rule, it should be the
guidance to the minor's morals of society. On first being
introduced to any stranger, there is no insincerity in the
display of a certain pleasure. We are advised by Wilber-
force to give our good-will, at first, on leasehold. To the
elder, a deferential bend or curtsey, though curtsies are
now unfashionable, marks the well brought up girl. She
must not receive her new acquaintance with a hysteric
laugh, such as I have seen whole families prone to; nei-
ther must she look heavy, draw down her mouth, and ap-
pear as if she did not care for her new acquaintance ; noi
ON FIRST INTRODUCTION. 301
must she look ut once over the dress of her victim (in
that case) as if taking an inventory of it ; nor appear hur-
ried, as if glad to get away on the first break in the con-
versation. She must give a due attention, or reasonable
time to perfect the introduction, to a certain extent. Vol-
ubility is to be avoided ; to overpower with a volley of
words is more cruel than kind ; the words should be gent-
ly spoken, not drawled, and the voice loud enough to be
caught easily, but always in an undertone to the power of
voice alloted by nature. Some persons appear to go to
the very extent, and deafen you for all other sounds ;
they may speak the words of wisdom, but you wish them
dumb. Others mumble so that you are forced continually
to express your total inability to follow the drift of their
remarks ; others drawl so that you feel that life is not
long enough for such acquaintance. All these are habits
to be conquered in youth.
Avoid, especially, affectation. It was once in fashion.
Some ladies put it on with their dresses ; others, by a
long practice, were successful in making it habitual. It
became what was called their manner. Sophia has a
manner; it js not affectation, "it is her manner, only
manner." Affectation has long ceased to be the fashion,
and like many other bygone peculiarities, one sees it only
in shops.
There is a way also of looking that must be regulated
in the young. The audacious stare is odious ; the sly,
oblique, impenetrable look is unsatisfactory. Softly and
kindly should thfe eyes be raised to those of the speaker,
and only withdrawn when the speech, whatever it may be,
is concluded. Immediate intimacy and a familiar man-
ner are worse than the glum look with which soiie young
302 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
ladies have a habit of regarding their fellow-mortala.
There is also a certain dignity of manners necessary tc
make even the most superior persons respected. This
dignity can hardly be assumed ; it cannot be taught ; it
must be the result of intrinsic qualities, aided by a knowl-
edge very much overlooked in modern education " the
knowledge how to behave." It is distinct from preten-
sion, which is about the worst feature of bad manners, and
creates nothing but disgust. A lady should be equal to
every occasion. Her politeness, her equanimity, her pre-
sence of mind, should attend her to the court and to the
cottage.
Neither should private vexations be allowed to act
upon her manners, either in her own house or in those of
others. If unfit for society, let her refrain from entering
it. If she enters it, let her remember that every one
is expected to add something to the general stock of plea-
sure or improvement. The slight self-command required
by good society is often beneficial both to the temper and
spirits.
One great discredit, to the present day is the "fast
young -lady." She is the hoyden of the old comedies,
without the indelicacy of that character. An avowed
flirt, she does not scruple to talk of her conquests, real or
imaginary. You may know her by her phrases. She
talks of "the men," of such and such "a charmer."
She does not mind, but rather prefers sitting with " the
ji.en" when they are smoking; she rides furiously, and
plays b'lliards. But it is in her marked antagonism to her
own s i that the fast young lady is perceptible. She
shuts v.p her moral perceptions, and sees neither beauty
nor talert in her own sex. With all this she is often
THE FAST YOUNG LADY. 803
violently confident, and calls all idiots who differ from her
in I can scarcely say her opinions but rather her pre-
judices.
By degrees, the assumption of assurance which has had
its source in bad taste, becomes real ; a hard blase look ;
a free tongue ; and, above all, the latitude of manners
shown to her by the other sex, and allowed by her, show
that the inward characteristics have followed the outward,
and that she is become insensible to all that she has lost
of feminine charm, and gained in effrontery. For the in-
stant a woman loses the true feminine type, she parts with
half her influence. The " fast girl" is flattered, admired
openly, but secretly condemned. Many a plain woman
has gained and kept a heart by being merely womanly
and gentle. In one respect, however, the fast young lady
may console herself; her flirtations are as fearless as her
expressions ; they do little harm to any but herself. Bro-
ken hearts have not to turn reproachfully to loud, high-
spirited, overbearing women, ''jolly girls," as they are
styled ; " chaff" in which they delight as often offends aa
amuses. To gain an empire over the affections of others,
there must be somewhat of sentiment or sympathy in the
nature of woman. Your loud, boastful, positive young
lady will never be remembered with a soft interest, unless
there be, perchance, some soft touch in her that redeems
her from hardness.
With regard to flirtation, it is difficult to draw a limit
where the predilection of the moment becomes the more
tender and serious feeling, and flirtation sobers into a more
honorable form of devoted attention.
We all dread for our daughters imprudent and harass-
ing attachments ; let it not, however, be supposed that
804 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
long practised flirtations are without their evil effects en
the character and manners.. They excite and amuse, but
they also exhaust the spirit. They expose women to cen-
sure and to misconstruction ; that is their least evil ; they
destroy the charm of her manners and the simplicity of
her heart. Yet the fast young lady clings to flirtation a3
the type of her class ; the privilege of that social free-
masonry which enables one flirt to discover and unkennel
another. She glories in number. Where a rival has
slain her thousands, she has overthrown her tens of thou-
sands. She forgets that, with every successive flirtation,
one charm after another disappears, like the petals from a
fading rose, until all the deliciousness of a fresh and pure
character is lost in the destructive sport. On all these
points a woman should take a high tone in the beginning
of her life. It is sure to be sufficiently lowered as time
goes on. She loses, too, that sort of tact which prevents
her from discerning when she has gone too far, and the
" fast young lady" becomes the hardened and practised
flirt, against whom all men are on their guard.
It is true that, in comparing the presert day with for-
mer times, we must take into account, when we praise the
models of more chivalric days, that we know only the
best specimens ; the interior life of the middle classes ig
veiled from us by the mist of ages. Yet it is to be de-
duced from biography, as well as from the testimony of
poets and dramatists, that there was, before the Restora-
tion, a sort of halo around young women of delicacy and
good breeding, owing, perhaps, in part, to the more retir-
ed lives that they led, but more to the remnants of that
fast-departing sentiment of chivalrous respect which youth
and beauty inspired. Then camp the upsetting demorali-
THE PRUDE AND THE BLUE-STOCKING. 805
lation of the Restoration, when all prudent fathers kept
their daughters from court, and only the bold' and " fast"
remained to furnish chronicles for De Grammont : we are
not, therefore, to judge of the young women of England
by his pictures. The character of English ladies rose
again to a height of moral elevation during the placid and
well-conducted rule of Anne, and continued, as far a,s re-
lated to single women, to be the pride and boast of the
country. Even now, when the reckless flirtation, loud
voices, unamusing jokes, which are comprised under the
odious term " chaff," and the masculine tastes of the pre-
sent day are deprecated, events bring forth from time to
time such instances of devotion and virtue as must con-
vince one that there is no degeneracy in our own country-
women on solid points. Few, indeed, are these instances,
among the class we have described. We must not look
for Florence Nightingales and Miss Marshes among that
company of the fast.
Contrasted with the fast young lady, comes forth the j
prude, who sees harm in everything, and her friend the
blue-stocking. . You may know the prude by her stolid
air of resistance to mankind in general, and by her pat
ronizing manner to her own sex. Her style of manner is
like the Austrian policy, repressive ; her style of conver
satiou, reprehensive. She has started in life with an im-
mense conceit of her own mental powers and moral attri
butes, of which the world in general is scarcely worthj
Her manner is indicative of this conviction ; and become* .'
accordingly, without her intending it, offensive, when she >
believes herself to be polite.
The prude and the pedant are often firm friends, each
adoring the other. The fast young lady deals largely in
06 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
epithets: " Idiot, dolt, wretch, humbug," drop from her
lips ; but the prude and her friend the blue-stocking per-
mit themselves to use conventional phrases only ; their
notion of conversation is that it be instructive, and, at
the same time, mystifying. The young blue stocking has r
nevertheless, large views of the regeneration of society,
and emancipation of woman from her degrading inferiority
of social position. She speaks in measured phrase : it is
like listening to a book to hear her. She is wrapt up in
Tennyson and Browning. There is, in all this, a great
aim at display, with a self-righteousness that is very un-
pleasing. Avoid, therefore, either extreme, and be con-
vinced that an artless gaiety, tempered by refinement,
always pleases. Every attempt to obtrude on a company
subjects either to which they are indifferent, or of which
they are ignorant, is in bad taste.
" Man should be taught as though you taught him not,
And things unknown proposed as things forgot."
It was well said by a late eminent barrister, that litera-
ture in ladies should be what onions ought to be in cook-
cry ; you should perceive the flavor, but not detect the
thing itself.
tThe bearing of married women should so far differ from
that of the unmarried, that there should be greater quiet-
ness and dignity ; a more close adherence to forms : and
an obvious, as well as a real abandonment of the admira-
tion which has been received before marriage. All flirta-
tion, however it may be countenanced by the present
custom of society, should be sternly and for ever put
aside. There is no reason for conversation to be lesa
livel r; or society less -agreeable ; it is, indeed, likely to be
THE MARRIED WOMAN. 807
more so, if flattered vanity, which may be wounded at
any moment, interposes, not to mar but to enhance enjoy-
ment. If a young married woman wishes to be respect-
ed, and therefore happy in life, there should be a quiet
propriety of manner, a dignity towards the male sex,
which cannot be mistaken in her for pruderjr, since it ia
consistent with her position and her ties. She should
change her tone, if that has been "fast;" she should
not put heiself on a level with young unmarried women
of her own age, but should influence and even lead her
youthful acquaintance into that style of behavior which
is doubtless much esteemed by men of good taste. She
should rather discountenance the fast, but has no need 10
copy or to bring forward the prude and the blue-stocking.
And it behooves married women to be more especially
guarded and sensible in their conduct, when it is remem-
bered how rapidly the demoralization introduced, perhaps,
by our contiguity with France, is extending in every
class. Formerly, among trades-people and professional
men, separations and divorces were almost unheard of ;)'
the vices that lead to them were looked on with horrorj
by the middle classes. But now, the schoolmaster runs
away with the wife of his apothecary ; the brewer does
the fashionable with the attorney's wife ; the baker in-
trigues with the green-grocer's hitherto worthy helpmate.
Never, in any time, have the seeds of vice v been so scat-
tered, by the gale from one condition of social life to ano-
ther; and the infection of this appalling wickedness has
l;een spreading, as the Divorce Court proves, silently, but
widely, for some years.
Every woman, however humble, even however poor, may
do one thing for society. She may set- an example : but
508 THE 'CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
we call loudly on those in the higher walks of life to do
so, and to wipe away the reproach on Israel.
In being introduced to a new acquaintance, there should
be more dignity and a little more distance in the manner
of the married woman than that of the single lady.
When she visits in a morning call, let her neither hurry
off, after a few moments of empty talk ; nor stay too long,
never considering the convenience of her who receives her.
She should walk gently down stairs, not talking loud to
any one as she goes. Never let her apologize for not
having called sooner, unless positively necessary ; such
apologies are vastly like affronts.
In receiving guests the English lady has much to learn
from the French hostess. Many a time has. the visitor in
England been met with symptoms of hurry and preoccu-
pation, remarkably embarrassing to those who call; or the
carriage is announced directly after her arrival, and the
lady of the house looks as if she thought her friend ought
to go. Some under-bred ladies, in country towns, look out
of the window half of the time, or put tidy their work-
boxes, making you feel that you are secondary. As an
immutable law of hospitality and good-breeding, a guest
should always be the first and sole object when alone with
you.
It is one advantage of the French system of having a
day on which to receive morning callers, that the lady of
the house is ready, and willing to let so many idlers jnto
her drawing-room. In no respect does the French lady
shine so much as in her reception of those who, as she
appears to think, " do her the honor" to enter her house.
It is this that makes the difference. In England we seem
to think we do people an honor in letting them cross OUT
. PHYSICAL CARRIAGE. 309
thresholds and come up our stairs. The French lady ad-
vances to meet the ladies, but waits to receive the gentle-
men. She has a chair ready for every one, and the rooms
of the fashionable are often full to crowding, yet no one
is neglected. Something civil (and "civil with ease''),
appropriate, well-turned, and often gracefully kind, is said
to every one. The stranger or foreigner is not left out of
the conversation previously going on ; he or she is not
made to feel " you are not one of us ; the sooner you go
the better." The conversation is soon general, though
without introductions, Having said all you wish, and
stayed the usual time, you rise, and the lady follows you
to the door, where a servant is waiting to conduct you
down stairs and call your carriage into the coiir. This
agreeable accneil forms a strong contrast to the ennui
which a mal-d-propos visit often seems to produce in a.
London drawing-room, and the evident despatch with which
a lady often rings the bell to let you out, often sitting down
and resuming a conversation before you are half across the
old and spacious apartment.
In regard to the physical carriage of women, the graces
of an upright form, of elegant and gentle movements, and
of the desirable medium between stiffness and lounging,
are desirable both for married and single. The same rules
and recommendations are applicable to both. Control over
the countenance is a part of manners. As a lady enters
a drawing-room, she should look for the mistress of the
house, speaking first to her. Her face should wear a
smile ; she should not rush in head-foremost ; a graceful
bearing, a light step, an elegant bend to common acquaint-
ance, a cordial pressure, not shaking, of the hand ex-
tended to her, are all requisite to , a lady. Let her sink
310 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.
gently into a chair, and, on formal occasions, retain hei
upright position ; neither lounge nor sit timorously on the
edge of her seat. Her feet should scarcely be shown, and
not crossed. She must avoid sitting stiffly, as if a rarnrod
were introduced within the dress behind, or stooping
Excepting a very small and costly parasol, it is not now
usual to bring those articles into a room. An elegantlv
worked handkerchief is carried in the hand, but not dis-
played so much as at dinner parties. (A. lady should con-
quer a habit of breathing hard, or coming in very hot, or
even looking very blue and shivery. Anything that de-
tracts from the pleasure of society is in bad taste.jj
In walking the feet should be moderately turned out,
the steps should be equal, firm, and light. A lady may
be known by her walk. The short, rapid steps, the shak-
ing the body from side to side, or the very slow gait which
many ladies consider genteel, are equally to be deprecated.
Some persons are endowed with a natural grace that wants
no teaching ; where it is not the case, the greatest care
should be taken to engraft -it in childhood, to have a master,
not for dancing alone, but for the even more important at-
tributes of the lady's carriage. To bow with grace, or
to curtesy when required, to move across a room well, are
points which strike the attention almost unconsciously to
ourselves, and the neglect of which often provokes com-
ment even on those in other respects well qualified to adorn
society.
PART II.
THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDIVIDUAL RELATIONS
CHAPTER IX.
IN PUBLIC. THE PROMENADE, ETC.
So now, my dear Sir and my dear Madam, you are dressed,
you have your accomplishments feady for use, you know
how to carry yourself, what good habits to attend to, what
had ones to avoid ; you have made a full examination of
yourself; you feel confident that you are " a complete gen-
tleman," or " a charming woman ;" you have had lunch,
you feel comfortable and happy, and you say to yourself,
" Let me go out and put these good rules into practice."
So then, if you are a man, you consult nobody but youi
watch ; if you are a young lady, you consult mamma, and
both having obtained the requisite assent, you, sir, issue
forth with your watch, and you, mademoiselle, with your
chaperon, and you go to meet your acquaintance in the
walk. Where the said walk may be is little matter. In
the days of the Stuarts, you would have repaired to the
transepts of old St. Paul's, then the fashionable promenade.
In a later reign you would have turned your steps to the
1 Mall," and met Beau Tibbs there in all his glory. Now,
(311)
312 IN PUBLIC. THE PROMENADE, ETC.
if you live in London, you make for Rotten Row ; if in
a watering-place, for the Promenade or the Parade, or
brefj whatever may be the spot chosen for tbe gay peacocks
to strut in.
You have not been there two minutes before you meet
somebody you know. But that is a very vague term ;
for you may know people in almost a dozen different
ways. First, then, you ki.ow them slightly, and wish to
recognize them slightly. Your course is simple enough.
If you are a lady, you have the privilege of recognizing a
gentleman. You wish to do so, because there is no rea-
son that you should not be polite to him. So when you
come quite near to him and see that he is looking at you,
you bow slightly, and pass on. There are one or -two
things to be avoided eve^i in this. You must not, liow-
ever short-sighted ; raise your glasses and stare at him
through them before you bow ; but as it is very awkward
for a lady to bow by mistake to a gentleman she does not
know, you should look at him well before you come up to
him. If you are a man, on the other hand, and you meet
a lady whom you know slightly, you must wait till she
bows to you. You then lift your hat quite off your head
vrith the hand, whichever it may be, which is farther from
the person you meet. You lift it off your head, but that
is all ; you have no need, as they do in France, to show
the world the inside thereof; so you immediately replace
it. In making this salute, you bend your body slightly.
If, which should rarely occur, you happen to be smoking,
you take your cigar from your mouth with the other
hand ; so too, if you have your hands in your pockets,
which I hope you will not, you take them out before bow-
THE SALUTE. 313
ing. To neglect these little observances would show a
want of respect.
But suppose it is a person whom you know rather more
than slightly, and to whom you may speak. Well, then,
no man may stop to speak to a lady until she stops to
speak to him. The lady, in short, has the right in all cases
to be friendly or distant. Women have not many rights ;
let us gracefully concede the few that they possess. You
raise your hat all the same, but you do not shake hands
unless the lady puts out hers, which you may take as a
sign of particular good-will. In this case you must not
stop long, but the lady again has the right to prolong the
interview at pleasure. It is she, not you, who must make
the move onwards. If she does this in the middle of a
conversation, it is a proof that she is willing that you
should join her, and if you have no absolute call to go
your way, you ought to do so. But if she does so with a
slight inclination, it is to dismiss you, and you must then
again bow and again raise your hat.
If, however, you are old acquaintance without any quar-
rel between, you should, whether gentleman or lady, at
once stop and give the hand and enter into conversation.
The length of this conversation . must depend on the place
where you meet. If in the streets, it should be very
short ; if in a regular promenade, it may be longer ; but
as a rule, old friends do better to turn round and join
forces. On the other hand, if you are walking with a
man whom your lady friend does not know, you must not
stop ; still less so, if she is walking with a lady or gen-
tleman whom you do not know. If, however, a decided
inclination is evinced by either to speak to the other, and
r m so stop, the stranger ought not to walk on, but tc
14
14 THE PROMENADE, ETC.
Btop also, and it then behooves you to introduce him or
her. Such an introduction is merely formal, and goes no
further.
Lastly, let us suppose that you want to " cut" your
acquaintance. fie ! Who invented the cut ? What de-
mon put it into the head of man or \voman to give this'
mute token of contempt or hatred ? I do riot know, but I
do know that in modern civilized life, as it goes, the cut
is a great institution. The finest specimen of it which
we have on record is that of Beau Brummell and George IV.
These two devoted friends had quarrelled, as devot-
ed friends are wont to do, and when they met again,
George, then Prince, was walking up St. James' Street
on the arm of some companion, and Brummell, dressed to
perfection, was coining down, it on that of another. The
two companions happened to know one another, and all
four stopped. George the Prince was determined to ig-
nore George the Beau's existence, and talked to his com-
panion without appearing to see him. George the Beau
expected this, but was still mortified. They all bowed
and moved away ; but before the Prince was out of hear-
ing, Brummell said to his companion in a loud voice,
"Who's your fat friend?" It is well known that the
Regent grieved at that time most bitterly over his grow-
ing corpulency, and the Beau was avenged.
But my advice to anybody who wishes to cut an ac
quaintance is, most emphatically, Don't. In the first place,
it is vulgar, and a custom which the vulgar affect. It ia
pretentious, and seems to say, ' ' You are not good enough
for me to know." All pretension is vulgar. In the next
place, it does the cutter as much injury as the cuttee. The
latter, if worthless, revenges himself by denouncing the
THE CUT.
former as stuck up, impolite, ill-bred : if himself well-
bred, he says nothing about it, but inwardly condemns and
despises you. Now, in a world where love is at a premium,
and even respect is not cheap, it is a pity to add by fooli&li
pride, to the number of those who dislike you: but, if
there were no other consideration, it is extremely unchris-
tian, to say the least of it. It is a giving of offence ; and
woe to him by whom offences come. It is the consequence
either of pride or of judging your neighbor, both of which
are bad faults. Lastly, it raises up for ever between two
people a barrier which . either years nor regret can sur-
mount. It is a silent but desperate quarrel, but, unlike
other quarrels, it is never followed by a reconciliation.
The Christian law used to be, " If you have aught agaimt
your brother, go and expostulate with him." The mode, a
social law not, however, the law of good society mak 3
an amendment : " Do not take the trouble to go to him-
it will do no good but cut him dead when you meet, an
so get rid of him for ever." Yes, " Dead !" Dead
indeed ; for all the love, all the forgiveness there migh\
flow between you, he is as good as dead to you. what is
more, you have killed him.
But the cut is often a silly measure, and far too promptly
resorted to. At Bath you h&ve known the Simpkinses,
and even been intimate with them, but in Town you take
jt into your head t';e>: are "inferior:" you meet and
cut them. Well, a fortnight later, you find that Laclj
So-and-so is particularly partial to the Simpkinses. " D(>
you know those charming girls ?" she asks, and how foolish
you then feel. Or again, Captain Mactavish is your best
and most amusing friend; slander whispers in your ear,
f; Mactavish was cashiered for fraudulent transactions ''
816 THE PROMENADE, ETC.
You go out, happen to meet, and cut him dead. The next
day the truth comes out. It is another Mactavish who was
cashiered, and your friend is a model of honor. What
can you do ? You cannot tell him you made a mistake.
It would then be his turn to take a high hand. " No,
no I" says he, when you offer to renew the friendship, " if
you could so soon believe evil of me, you are not the man
for Mactavish. Besides, you cut me yesterday, and I can
forgive everything but a cut." Or again, papa is alarmed
at the attentions of young Montrnorency. "A penniless
boy making love to Matilda !" he cries indignantly, and
orders the said Matilda and her mamma to cut him. Mont-
morency, in pique, runs off to Miss Smith, offers, and
marries her. It is then discovered that Montmorency has
a bachelor uncle whose whole fortune will come to him,
and Matilda is miserable.
But there are some cases in which a cut becomes the
sole means of ridding one's-self of annoyance, and with
young ladies especially so. A girl has no other means of
escaping from the familiarity of a pushing and thick-
skinned man. She cannot always be certain that the
people introduced to her are gentlemen ; pleased with them
at first, she gives them some encouragement, till some oc-
casion or other lays bare the true character of her new
acquaintance. What is she to do? He requires so little t^
ericounge him, that even a recognition would be sufficient
to bring him on. She has nothing left but to cut him
dead. The cut, however, should be positively the last re-
source. There are many ways, less offensive and rr.oro
dignified, of showing that you do not wish for intimacy ;
the stiff bow without a smile is enough to show a man of
any preception that he need not make farther advances
THE CUT. 317
and as for cutting people of real or imaginary inferiority,
it is the worst of vulgarity. We laugh at the silly pride
of the small dressmaker who declines to go through the
kitchen. " Not accustomed to associate with menials,"
she tells you, and knocks at the front door ; we smile at
the costermonger who cannot lower himself to recognise
the crossing-sweeper ; and how absurd to those of a higher
class than our own must the Smiths, whose father was a
physician, appear, when they cut the Simpkinses, whose
progenitor is only a surgeon, and so on. But if you have
once known people you should always know them, if they
have not done anything to merit indignation. If you
have once been familiar with the Simpkinses, you are not
only inconsistent and vulgar, but you accuse yourself of
former want of perception, if now you discover that they
are too low for you to know.
But, if a cut must be made, let it be done with as little
offensiveness as possible. Let the miserable culprit not
be tortured to death, or broken in the social wheel, like a
Damiens, however treasonable his oifence. Never, on any
account, allow him to speak to you, and then staring him
in the face, exclaim, " Sir, I do not know you !" or, as
8ome people, trying to make rudeness elegant, would say,
" Sir, I have not the honor of your acquaintance ;" nor
behead him with the fixed stare ; but rather let him see
that you have noticed his approach, and then turn your
head away. If he is thick-skinned or daring enough to
come up to you after that, bow to him stiffly and pass on.
In this way you avoid insolence, and cause less of that
destroyer of good manners confusion.
There are some definite rules for cutting. A gentle-
man must never cut a lady under any circumstances. An
818 THE PROMENADE, 2TC.
unmarried lady should never cut a married one. A ser-
vant of whatever class for there are servants up tc
royalty itself should never cut his master ; near relations
should never cut one another at all ; and a clergyman
should never cut anybody, because it is at best an unchris-
tian action. Perhaps it may be added that a superior
should never cut his inferior in rank ; he has many other
Vff.ya of annihilating him. Certainly it may be laid down
tint people holding temporary official relations must waive
t-lnir private animosities, and that two doctors, for instance,
however much opposed to one another, should never intro-
duce the cut over the bed of a patient.
I pass now to a much pleasanter theme, that of saluta-
tion. I know not when men first discovered that some
eign was necessary to show their good-will to one another
Hatred, the ugliest of all the demons,, (and they are not
renowned for beauty), took a reserved seat early in the
history of the world, and the children of Cain and Seth,
if they ever met, must have found it necessary to hold out
some human flag of truce. What this may have been we
have no records to prove, but it is certain that prostra-
tion, which made a man helpless for the moment, was a
very early form of salutation, and one that has not yet
gone out, for kneeling, which is only a simpler form of it,
it still preserved in our courts. But this was too awkward
a practice for everyday life, especially when men gathered
into cities and met their fellow-creatures daily in large
numbers. Fancy a member of Parliament bobbing down oa
his "marrow-bones" whenever he met a constituent, or a
clergyman wearing the knees of his black u limb covers"
into shining patches as he walked the parish and met Tim
Miles and George Giles at every corner. The question then
ABOUT SALUTATION. o!9
arose how to show the same good- will without the same in-
convenience, and which of the senses should be . employed
in it. We looked at the brute creation, which, in its gift of
instinct, seemed to have as it were a direct revelation for
such things, but found little counsel. Dogs wagged their
tails, but their masters had none to wag, except indeed
amono; the Niam-Niam, and even with them it is doubtful
O '
wnether the necessary pliability exists. Horses know their
friends by the smell, and Mr." Rarey tells us that we need
never fear a horse which has sniffed us all over, for the sim-
ple reason that it will no longer fear us. But though it is
said you may tell a Chinaman, as the ancients told an Ibe-
rian, par son odeur, and though you may certainly recognize
a modern fop by his " smelling of musk and insolence," yet
it does not appear that there is any perfume by which the
human being can assure you of his good intentions. The
prostration was probably therefore first followed by a deep
inclination of the body, which we preserve faintly enough
in our modern bow, and which was the recognized form of
worship in several eastern countries. Another modifica-
tion of prostration, which was preserved in this country
between servants and masters till the end of the seven-
teenth century, was that of " making a knee," as Ben
Jonson calls it, which was nothing more than slightly
bending one leg and so lowering the body. But these
forms were too much for some people and too little for
others. The children of this world soon discovered that
they were not all children alike, and made early a marked
distinction of persons. The salute fit for a chieftain wag
much too good for a serf, and the serf himself was not
going to make a knee to a brother serf, however much he
liked him. In fact, it became necessary to distinguish be-
820 THE PROMENADE, ETC.
tween the amount of respect due to position (for character
soon lost .its due recognition), and the amount of cordial-
ity due to friendship. Thus some form of inclination re-
mained in use for the salute of respect, and thus the eye
was the sense there employed. The principle of respect
was brought variously into practice, but in no \yay so
prominently as that of baring some part of the body,
thereby putting the saluter to a temporary inconvenience,
and laying him open to the attack of the saluted. In one
country the shoes were taken off, in another the head-
gear, though St. Paul's philosophic, if not very gallant,
distinction relative to the honor of a man laying in hia
head, and that of a woman elsewhere, would seem to
make the Orientals more consistent in keeping their tur-
bans on and taking off their slippers. In no country,
however, do we hear of women taking their bonnets off,
as a salute, though in some to unveil the face was a mark
of great reverence. That, of course would depend on
whether it was a pretty face or not ; but however this may
be, the forms of salutation which have been retained
among European nations are much the same ; the bow,
namely, as a relic of prostration, and baring the head,
among men ; while among women the prostration was
kept up to a much later date, and the curtsey, in w^ich
the knees were bowed, is not yet quite vanished from the
modesty of our land. Maid-servants and country wives
retain it still.
But when we come to cordiality we find another sense
brought into action. Words were known to be concealers
of thought, so that the sense of hearing was out of the
question, while smelling and tasting were unanimously
voted brutish ; and those poets who talk about " tasting
THE KISS. 821
the hcney of her lips," are fitted to be laureates in the
cannibal islands rather than in the British kingdoms.
There remained then the sense of touch, which, if not
the most delicate, is one which the human race particu-
larly depend on, as our blind children learn to know even
colors thereby. Besides, owing to the absence of fur in
our race, the sense of touch is more acute in us than
in any other animals.
Well, on the touch-and-knpw principle, some races im-
mediately undertook to conduce to each other's comfort aa
a token of cordiality. In the frost-bitten regions of Lap-
land, for instance, it is the fashion to run up to your
friend and rub his nose with yours. It is a mute ex-
pression of the wish that his proboscis may not drop oft*
some cold morning ; and indeed this custom must assist in
preserving that graceful feature from the effects of frost,
so that the man with the largest acquaintance is also like-
ly to have the largest nose. In Southern Africa again,
where the feet get terribly dry from the heat of the soil,
it is the custom to rub toes ; and in some country or other,
the height of elegance is to moisten the hand in the most
natural manner, and smear your friend's face with it.
These customs, however, must have had a somewhat
local appreciation, and have not received general approba-
tion. There are now two recognised modes of cordial
salutation the kiss and the shake of the hand. Whether
kissing was known in Paradise, as Byron, who had some
experience of it (kissing, I mean, not Paradise), assurea
us:
" One remnant of Paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love ; "
we cannot stop to investigate, but that it was a very earlv
322
discovery, those who read their Bibles may find out. It
is a beautiful custom, an angelic custom ; I say it without
blushing, because it was originally, and in many countries
is let us hope even in England the most innocent thing
in the world. Certainly, about the period of our own
era, the " kiss of peace" was a mark of love between
men though in some cases it was made to serve the dead-
liest ends. It is still in use between men in France and
Germany. The parent kisses his grown-up son on the
forehead ; friends press their lips to others' cheeks ; bro-
thers throw their arms round one another's necks -and
embrace like lovers. Alack and alas ! for our stiff hu-
manity. Here in England it is reserved for children and
girls, and for Minnie to stop my lips with when I arn
Agoing to scold her. Well, it is a beautiful old custom, all
the same, and if we were not so wicked in this nine-
teenth century, we should have more of it. In the days
of good Queen Bess it was the height of politeness to
kiss your neighbor's wife, and our grandfathers tell us
that on entering a room they kissed all the women present
as a matter of course. . This privilege is reserved now for
Scotch cousins, who make a very free use of it. But,
alas ! this beautiful symbol of pure affection, which sent
a thrill from warm lips through all the frame, is now be-
come a matter of almost shame to us. It is a deed to ba
done behind the door, as Horace Smith hints.
" Sydney Morgan was playing the organ,
While behind the vestry door
Horace Twiss was snatching a kiss
From the lips of Hannah Moore."
Poor Hannah Moore ! how the very thought must have
shrivelled her up.
THE KISS. 823
The kiss of mere respect was made on the hand, a good
old custom still retained in Germany, and among a few
old beaux at home. Whether it was pure respect which
induced Leicester often to kiss the Virgin Queen on her
lips, " which," we are told, " she took right heartily," I
cannot say ; but at all events in this day^the kissing of
the lips is reserved for lovers, and should scarcely be per-
formed in public. But the kiss of friendship and rela-
tionship on the cheeks or forehead is still kept up a little,
and might be much more common. I like to see a young
man kiss his mother on her wrinkled brow ; it shows
" there is no humbug about him." I like to see sisters
kiss, and old friends when they meet again. But I may
like what I like. The world is against me, and as it is a
delicate subject I will say no more on it, save only this,
/As a general rule, this act of affection is excluded from ~~")
public eyes in this country ,\and there are people who are
ashamed even to kiss a brother or father on board the
steamer which is to take him away for some ten or twenty
years. But then there are people in England who are
ashamed of showing any feeling, however natural, how-
ever pure. This is a matter in which I would not have
etiquette interfere. Let the world say it is rustic, or even
vulgar, to kiss your friends on the platform of a railway,
before they start or when they arrive. It is never vulgar
to be loving, and love that is real love will show itself,
though there were ten Acts of Parliament against it.
" A cold hand and a warm heart" is an old saw, which
may be true for the temperature of the skin, but is cer-
tainly not so for the mode of pressing it. A warm heart,
I am persuaded, gives a warm shake of the hand, and a
man must be a hypocrite, who can shake yours heartily
324 THE PROMENADE, ETC.
while be hates you. The hand is after all the most natu-
ral limb to salute with. Next to those of the lips, the
nerves of touch are most highly developed in the fingers,
which may be accounted for by the perpetual friction and
irritation to which they are subjected, for we know that
those portions of the skin are the most ticklish which un-
dergo the most friction. However this may be, the hand
is the most convenient member to salute with. The toe-
rubbing process, for instance, must subject one to the risk
of toppling over in any but a dignified manner ; " mak-
ing a knee" was liable to be followed by breaking a nose,
if the balance were not carefully preserved, and as for the
total prostration system, I feel convinced that it must
have been .given up by common consent after dinner, and
by corpulent personages. But the charm of the hand, as
a saluting member, lies in the fact of its grasping power,
which enables the shaker to vary the salute at pleasure.
The freemasons well know this, and though they begin
the mysterious salute with signs for the eye, they are rare-
ly satisfied till they have followed them up by the grasp,
which varies for almost jevery grade, for apprentice, mas-
ter, royal arch, knight templar, and all their other absur-
dities. My worthy masons, do not suppose that you
possess a monopoly of this art. There is as cunning a
freemasonry in all society, and the mode of taking, grasp-
ing, and shaking the hand, varies as much according to
circumstances, and even more, than your knuckling sys-
tem.
First, there is the case where two hands simply take
hold of one another. This is the mode of very shy peo-
ple, and of two lovers parting in tears : but then in the
one case the hold is brief, in the other continued. Next,
HAND-SHAKING. 325
there is the case where one hand is laid clammily in the
other, which slightly presses the fingers, not going down
to the palm. This is a favorite mode with ladies, espe-
cially young ladies, towards slight acquaintance ; but
when my heart flutters a little for Mariana's smile, I
should be piqued indeed, nay, shocked, if there were
nothing more than fingers laid in my hand, no responsive
thumb to complete the manoeuvre, and when Sybilla told
me she could not love me, and when she would not listen,
but hurried away up the terrace steps, and turned to give
me the last last shake of a hand, I have never touched
again, I cannot tell you what of despair she saved me in
the friendly warmth I do not say affection with which
she wrung my hand that passionately clung round hers.
Ah ! Sybilla, better have left that hand with me, have
given it me for ever, than to the wealthy wig-wearing,
rouged and powdered bear, to whom they sold you after-
wards.
Next, there is the terribly genteel salute of the under-
bred man, who with a smirk on his face, just touches the
tips of your fingers, as if they were made of glass ; there
is the blunt honest shake of the rough, who lays out his
hand with the palm open and the heart in the hollow of
it, stretches it well out, and shakes and rattles the one
you put into it ; there is the pouncing style of him who
affects but does not feel cordiality, who brings the angle
between thumb and finger down upon you like gaping
shears ; there is the hailing style of the indifferent man
who seems to say to your hand, " Come and be shaken ;"
there is the style of the man who gives your hand one
toss, as if he were ringing the dinner-bell ; and another
bell-ringing style is that of milady, who shakes her own
iJ26 THE PHOMENADE, ETC.
hand from the wrist with a neat fine little movement, and
does not care whether jours shakes in it or not ; there id
genius who clasps jour hands in both of his and beams
into jour face ; and there is love who seizes it to press it
tighter and more tightly, and sends his whole soul through
the fingers.
But the stjles are infinite ; there is the mesmeric stjle
where the shaker seems to make a pass down jou before
getting at jour hand ; there is papa's style, coining down
with an open-handed smack, that jou maj hear half the
length of Parliament Street ; there is the solemn style,
where the elbow is tucked into the side, like the wing of
a trussed fowl, and the long fingers are extended with the
thumb in close attendance ; there is the hearty double-
knock style of three rapid shakes ; there is the melan-
choly style, where the hand is heaved up once or twice
slowly and lowered despairingly; there is the adulatory
style, where it is raised towards the bent head as if to be
inspected ; there is the hail-fellow style, where the arm is
stretched out sideways, and the eyes say, " There's my
hand, old boy !" Then of styles to be always avoided,
there is the swinging style, where your arm is tossed from
side to side ; there is the wrenching style, by which your
knuckles are made to ache for five minutes after ; and
there is the condescending style, where two fingers are
held out to you as a great honor. But. the best style of
all , me j 'tidice, is the hearty single clasp, full-handedj
warm, momentary, just shaken enough to make the gentle
grasp well felt but not painful.
The etiquette of hand-shaking is simple. A man has
no right to take a lady's hand till it is offered. It were a
HAND-SHAKING. 327
robbery which she would punish. He has even less right
to pinch or to retain it. Two ladies shake hands gently
and softly. A young lady gives her hand, but does not
shake a gentleman's, unless she is his friend. A lady
should always rise to give her hand ; a gentleman, of
course, never dares do so seated. On introduction in a
room, a married lady generally offers her hand, a young
lady not ; {in a ball-room, where the introduction is to
dancing, not to friendship, you never shake hands ; and
as a general rule, an introduction is not followed by shak-
ing hands, only by a bow. It may perhaps be laid down,
that the more public the place of introduction, the less
hand-shaking takes place! but if the introduction be par-
ticular, if it be accompanied by personal recommendation,
such as, ''I want you to know my friend Jones," or, if
Jones comes with a letter of presentation, then you give
Jones your hand, and warmly too. Lastly, it is the priv-
ilege of a superior to offer or withhold his or her hand,
BO. that an inferior should never put his forward first.
There are other modes of salutation, which, being too
familiar, are well avoided, such as clapping a man on the
shoulder, digging him in .the ribs, and so forth. The
French rarely shake hands, and only with intimate friends.
They then give the left hand, because that is nearer the
heart, la main du cocur. The most cordial way of shak-
ing hands is to give both at once, but this presupposes a
certain or uncertain amount of affection.
When you meet a friend in the street, it must depend
on the amount of familiarity whether you walk with him
or not, but with a lady you must not walk unless invited
either verbally or tacitly A young and single man should
328 THE PROMENADE, ETC.
never walk with a young lady in public places, unlesi
especially asked to do so. How Sybilla's words thrilled
through me, when she said, " Mamma, I am going to
walk home with Mr. , if you have no objection." I
had not proposed it, it was her own doing. No wonder
I am a bachelor still, and she the Amy in Locksley Hall .'
If you walk with a lady alone in a large town, particu-
larly in London, you must offer her your arm ; elsewhere
it is unnecessary, and even marked.
In driving with ladies, a man must take the back seat
of the carriage, and when it stops, jump out first and offer
his hand to let them out. In your own carriage you al-
ways give the front seat to a visitor, if you are a man,
but a lady leaves the back seat for a gentleman.
In railway travelling you should not open a conversa-
tion with a lady unknown to you, until she makes some
advance towards it. On the other hand, it is polite to
speak to a gentleman. If, however, his answers be curt,
and he evinces a desire to be quiet, do not pursue the
conversation. On your part, if addressed in a railway
carriage, you should always reply politely. If you have
a newspaper, and others have not, you should offer it to
the person nearest to you. An acquaintance begun on a
railway may sometimes go farther, but, as a general rule,
it terminates when one of the parties leaves the carriage.
A Frenchman always takes off his hat in a carriage where
there are ladies, whether a private or public one. Thia
is a politeness which really well-bred Englishmen imitate.
If you go in an omnibus (and there is no reason why a
gentleman should not do so), it is well to avoid conver-
sation, but if you enter into it, beware of inflammatory
IN PUBLIC CONVEYANCES 829
subjects. An acquaintance of mine once talked politics
to a radical in an omnibus. The two got heated, and
more heated, and my acquaintance for he was no friend,
I assure you ended by driving his opponent's head
through the window of the vehicle. It was agreeable
very to see his name next day ID the police reports.
CHAPTER X.
IN PRIVATE. VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.
THERE are many great men who go unrewarded for the
services they render to humanity. Nay, even their names
are lost, while we daily bless their inventions. One of
these is he, if it was not a lady, who introduced the use
of visiting cards. In days of yore a slate or a book wag
kept, and you wrote your name on it. But then that
could only be done when your acquaintance was '"'not at
home." To the French is due the practice of making the
delivery of a card serve the purpose of the appearance of
the individual, and with those who have a large acquaint-
ance this custom is becoming very common in large towns.
The visit or call is, however, a much better institution
than is generally supposed. It has its drawbacks. It
wastes much time ; it necessitates much small talk. It
obliges one to dress on the chance of finding a friend at
home; but for all this it is almost the only means of
making, an acquaintance ripen into a friendship. In the
visit all the strain, which general society somehow neces-
sitates, is thrown off. A man receives you in his rooms
cordially, and makes you welcome, not to a stiff dinner,
but an easy-chair and conversation. 'A lady, who in the
ball-room or party has been compelled to limit her conver-
sation, can here speak more freely. The talk can descend
from generalities to personal inquiries, and need I say that if
(330)
LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 331
you wish to know a young lady truly, you must see her
at home, and by daylight.
The main points to be observed about visits are the pro-
per occasions and the proper hours. Now, between actual
friends there is little need of etiquette in these respects.
A friendly visit may be made at any time, on any occasion.
True, you are more welcome when the business of the day
is over, in the afternoon rather than the morning, and you
must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal-times. But,
on the other hand, many people receive visits in the eve-
ning another French custom and certainly this is the
best time to make them.
As however, during the season, you have but a slight
chance of finding your friends at home in the evening,
another custom has been imported from France into the
best circles of English society, that, namely, of fixing a
day in the week on which to receive evening visitors with-
out the ceremony of a party. The visit may then last
from one to two hours, and be made either in morning or
evening dress, the latter being the better. However, this
custom is not yet a common one, but I beg to recommend
it to those who wish to have friends as well as mere ac-
quaintance.
The principal class of visits, then, is those of ceremony.
The occasions for these are with letters of introduction,
after certain parties, and to condole or congratulate.
In the first case, letters aie raiely if ever given to per-
sons in Town. The residence in town is presumed to be
transitory, and letters of introduction are only addressed
to permanent residents. On the other hand, they are ne-
cessary in the country, particularly when a family take up
their residence in a district ; and wish to enter the best
382 VISITS. INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.
society of the place. In this last case the inhabitants al-
ways call first on the new-comer, unless he brings a letter
of introduction, when he is the first to call, but instead
of going in, leaves it with a card or cards, and waits till
this formal visit is returned. In returning a visit made
with a letter it is necessary to go in if the family is at
home. " A letter of introduction," says La Fontaine, "is
a draft at sight, and you must cash it." In large towns
there is no such custom. It would be impossible for the
residents to call on every new comer, and half of the new
arrivals might be people whose acquaintance they would
not wish to improve. If however, you take a letter of
introduction with any special object, whether of business
or of a private or particular character, you are right to
send in the letter with your card, and ask for admission.
Such letters should only be given by actual friends of the
persons addressed, and to actual friends of their own.
Never, if you are wise, give a letter to a person whom
you do not know, nor address one to one whom you know
slightly. The letter of introduction, if actually given to
its bearer, should be left open, that he may not incur the fate
of the Persian messenger, who brought tablets of intro-
duction recommending the new acquaintance to cut his
head off. A letter of this kind must therefore be carefully
worded stating in full the name of the person introduced,
but with as few remarks about him as possible. It is gen-
erally sufficient to say that he is a friend of yours, whom
you trust your other friend will receive with attention, &c.
In travelling it is well to have as many letters as possible,
but not to pin your faith on them. In foreign towns it is
the custom for the new comer to call on the residents first
just the reverse of ours.
VISITS OF CEREMONY. 333
Ceremonial visits must be made the day after a ball,
when it will suffice to leave a card ; within a day or two
after a dinner party, when you ought to make the visit
personally, unless the dinner was a semi-official one, such
as the Lord Mayor's ; and within a week of a small party,
when the call should certainly be made in person. All
these visits should be short, lasting from twenty minutes
to half-an-hour at the most. There is one species of "bore"
more detestable than any other the man, namely, who
comes and sits in your drawing-room for an hour or two,
preventing you from going out to make your own calls, or
interrupting the calls of others. It is proper when you
have been some time at a visit, and another caller is an-
nounced, to rise and leave, not indeed immediately, as if
you shunned the new arrival, but after a moment or two,
In other cases, when you doubt when to take your leave,
you must not look at your watch, but wait till there is a
lull in the conversation.
(Visits of condolence and congratulation must be made
about a week after the event. If you are intimate with
the person on whom you call, you may ask in the first
case for admission ; if not, it is better only to leave a card,
and make your " kind inquiries" of the servant, who is
generally primed in what manner to answer them. In
visits of congratulation you should always go in, and be
hearty in your congratulations. Visits of condolence are
terrible inflictions to both receiver and giver, but they
may be made less so by avoiding, as much as consistent
with sympathy, any allusion to the past. The receiver
does well to abstain from tears. A lady of my acquaint-
ance, who had lost her husband, was receiving such a visit
in her best crape. She wept profusely for some time upon
334 VISITS, INTRODUCTION, ETC.
tlie best of broad-hemmed cambric handkerchiefs, and then
turning to her visitor said : " I am sure you will be glad
to hear that Mr. B has left me most comfortably pro-
vided for. "Hinc like lacrymce. Perhaps they \~vould
have been more sincere if he had left her without a penny.
At the same time, if you have not sympathy and heart
enough to pump up a little condolence, you will do better
to avoid it, but take care that your conversation is not too
gay. Whatever you may feel, you must respect the sor-
rows of others.
On marriage, cards are sent round to such people as
you wish to keep among your acquaintance, and it is then
their part to call first on the young couple, when within
distance!.!'
I now come to a few hints about calling in general ; and
first as to the time thereof. In London, the limits of call-
ing hours are fixed, namely, from three to six, but in the
country peopje are sometimes odious enough to call in the
morning before lunch. This should not be done even by
intimate friends. Everybody has, or ought to have, hia
or her proper occupation in the morning, and a caller will
then sometimes find the lady of the house unprepared. It
is necessary before calling to ascertain the hours at which
your friends lunch and dine, and not to call at these. A
ceremonial call from a slight acquaintance ought to be re-
turned the next day, or at longest within three days, unless
the distance be great. In the same way, if a stranger
comes to stay at the house of a friend, in the country, or
in small country towns, every resident ought to call on
him or her, even if she be a young lady, as soon as pos-
sible after the arrival. These calls should be made in per-
son, and returned the next day.
LEAVING CARDS. 835
The card is the next point. It should be perfectly
simple. A lady's card is larger than a gentleman's. The
former may be glazed, the latter not. The name, with a
simple "Mr." or "Mrs." before it is sufficient, except in
the case of acknowledged rank, as "The Earl of Ducie," t
" Colonel Marjoribanks," " The Hon. Mrs. Petre," and*
so forth. All merely honorary titles or designations of
position or office should be left out, except in cards des-
tined for purely official visits. Thus our ambassador at
Paris returns official visits with a card thus : " L'Ambas-
Badeur de Sa Majeste Britannique," but those of acquaint-
ance with " Lord Cowley" simply. The address may be
put in the corner of the card. The engraving should be
in simple Italian writing, not Gothic or Roman letters,
very small and without any flourishes. Young men have
adopted recently the foreign custom of having their Chris-
tian and surname printed without the -"Mr." A young
lady does not require a separate card as long as she is liv-
ing with her mother; her name is then engraved under
her mother's, as :
Mrs. Jones Broivnsmith.
Miss Jones Brownsmith.
Or if there be more than one daughter presented, thus :
Mrs. Jones Brovmsmith.
The Miss Jones Brownsmiths.
Which latter form can be defended as more idiomatic, if
less grammatical, than " The Misses Jones Brownsmith ;"
but it is a matter of little importance. I cannot enter here
on a grammatical discussion, arid the one form is as com-
mon as the other.
You will find a small card-case neater and more conven-
886 VISITS. INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.
ient than a pocket book ; and in leaving cards you must
thus distribute them : one for the lady of the house and
her daughters the latter are sometimes represented by
turning up the edge of the card one for the master of
the house and if there be a grown up son or near male re-
lation staying in the house, one for him. But though
cards are cheap, you must never leave more than three at
a time at the same house. As married men have, or are
gupposed to have, too much to do to make ceremonial calls,
it is the custom for a wife to take her husband's cards with
her, and to leave one or two of them with her own. If,
on your inquiring for the lady of the house, the servant
replies, " Mrs. So-and-so is not at home, but Miss So-and-
so is," yqu should leave a card, because young ladies do
not receive calls from gentlemen, unless they are very in-
timate with them, or have passed the rubicon of thirty
summers. It must be remembered, too, that where there
is a lady of the house, your call is to her, not to her hus-
band, except on business.
The Roman Assembly used to break up if thunder was
heard, and in days of yore a family assembly was often
broken up very hurriedly at the thunder of the knocker,
one or other of the daughters exclaiming, " I am not
dressed, mamma !" and darting from the room ; but ladies
ought to be dressed sufficiently to receive visitors in the
afternoon. As nerves have grown more delicate, of late
years, it is perhaps a blessing that knockers have been
superseded by bells. Where they remain, however, you
should not rattle them fiercely, as a powdered Mercury
does, nor should you pull a bell ferociously.
Having entered the house, you take up with you to the
drawing-room both hat and cane, but leave an umbrella in
COUNTRY-VISITING. 337
the hall. In France it is usual to leave a great-coat down
stairs also, but as calls are made in this country in morn-
ing dress, it is not necessary to do so.
It is not usual to introduce people at morning calls in
large towns ; in the country it is sometimes done, not al-
ways. The law of introductions is, in fact, to force no
one into an acquaintance. You should therefore ascertain
beforehand whether it is agreeable to both to be introduced ;
but if a lady or a superior expresses a wish to know a gen-
tleman or an inferior, the latter two have no right to de-
cline the honor. The introduction is of an inferior (which
position a gentleman always holds to a lady) to the supe-
rior. You introduce Mr. Smith to Mrs. Jones, or Mr. A.
to Lord B., not vice versa. In introducing two persons,
it is not necessary to lead one of them up by the hand, bu*
it is sufficient simply to precede them. Having thus
brought the person to be introduced up to the one to whom
he is to be presented, it is the custom, even when the con-
sent has been previously obtained, to say, with a slight bow
to the superior personage : " Will you allow me to intro-
duce Mr. ?" The person addressed replies by bowing
to the one introduced, who also bows at the same time,
while the introducer repeats their names, and then retires,
eaving them to converse. Thus, for instance, in present-
ing Mr. Jones to Mrs. Smith, you will say, " Mrs. Smith,
allow me to introduce Mr. Jones." and while they are en-
gaged in bowing, you will murmur, " Mrs. Smith Mr.
Jones," and escape. If you have to present three or four
people to said Mrs. Smith, it will suffice to utter their re-
spective names without repeating that of the lady.
A well-bred person always receives visitors at whatever
time they may call, or whoever they may be ; but if you
15
388 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.
are occupied and cannot afford to be interrupted by a mere
ceremony, you should instruct the servant befoi ehund to
gay that you are "not at home." This form has often
been denounced as a falsehood, but a lie is no lie unless
intended to deceive ; and since the words are universally
understood to mean that you are engaged, it can be no
harm to give such -an order to a servant. But, on the
other hand, if the servant once admits a visitor within the
hall, you should receive him at any inconvenience to your
self. A lady should never keep a visitor waiting more
than a minute or two at the most, and if she cannot avoid
doing so, must apologize on entering the drawing-room.
In good society, a visitor, unless he is a complete stran-
ger, does not wait to be invited to sit down, but takes a
seat at once easily. A gentleman should never take the
principal place in the room, nor, on the other hand, sit at
an inconvenient distance from the lady of the house. He
must hold his hat gracefully, not put it on a chair or table,
or, if he wants to use both hands, must place it on the
floor close to his chair. A well-bred lady, who is receiv-
ing two or three visitors at a time, pays equal attention to
all, and attempts, as much as possible, to generalize the
conversation, turning to all in succession. The last arrival
however, receives a little more attention at first than the
others, and the latter, to spare her embarrassment, should
leave as soon as convenient. People who out-sit two or three
parties of visitors, unless they have some particular motive
foi doing so, come under the denomination of " bores." A
" bore" is a person who does not know when you have had
enough of his or her company. Lastly, a lady never calls
on a gentleman, unless professionally or officially. It is not
only ill-bred, but positively improper to do so. At the same
COUNTRY- VISITING. 339
time, there is a certain privilege in age, which makes it
possible for an old bachelor like myself to receive a visit
from any married lady whom I know very intimately, but
such a call would certainly not be one of ceremony, and
always presupposes a desire to consult me on some point
or other. I should be guilty of shameful treachery, how-
ever, if I told any one that I had received such a visit,
while I should certainly expect that my fair caller would
let her husband know of it.
A few words on visits to country houses before I quit
this subject. Since an Englishman's house is his castle,
no one, not even a near relation, has a right to invite him-
self to stay in it. It is not only taking a liberty to do so,
but may prove to be very inconvenient. A general invi-
tation, too. should never be acted on. It is often given
without any intention of following it up ; but, if given,
should be turned into a special one sooner or later. An
invitation should specify the persons whom it includes, and
the person invited should never presume to take with him
any one not specified. If a gentleman cannot dispense
with his valet, or a lady with her maid, they should write
to ask leave to bring a servant ; but the means of your
inviter y and the size of the house, should be taken into
consideration, and it is better taste to dispense with a
servant altogether. Children and horses are still more
troublesome, and should never be taken without special
mention made of them. It is equally bad taste to arrive
with a waggonful of luggage, as that is naturally taken as
a hint that you intend to stay a long time. The length of
a country visit is indeed a difficult matter to decide, but in
the present day people who receive much generally specify
the length in their invitation a plan which saves a greai
340 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.
deal of trouble and doubt. But a custom not so commen-
dable has lately come in of limiting the visits of acquaint-
ance to two or three days. This may be pardonable where
the guest lives at no great distance, but it is preposterous
to expect a person to travel from London to Aberdeen for
a stay of three nights. If, however, the length be not
specified, and cannot easily be discovered, a week is the
limit for a country visit, except at the house of a near re-
lation or very old friend. It will, however, save trouble
to yourself, if, soon after your arrival, you state that yot
are come " for a few days," and, if your host wishes you
to make a longer visit, he will at once press you to do so.
The main point in a country visit is to give as little
trouble as possible, to conform to the habits of your en-
tertainers, and never to be in the way. On this principle
you will retire to your own occupations soon after break-
fast, unless some arrangement has been made for passing
the morning otherwise. If you have nothing to do, you
may be sure that your host has somethiug to attend to in
the morning. Another point of good-breeding is to be
punctual at meals, for" a host and hostess never sit down
without their guest, and dinner may be getting cold. If,
however, a guest should fail in this particular, a well-bred
entertainer will not only take no notice of it, but attempt
to set the late comer as much at his ease as possible. A
host should provide amusement for his guests, and give up
his time as much as possible to them ; but if he should b
a professional man or student an author, for instance
the guest should, at the commencement of the visit, insist
that he will not allow him *o interrupt his occupations, and
the latter will set his visitor more at his ease by accepting
this arrange merit. In fact, the rule on which a host
GRATUITIES TO SERVANTS. 341
should act is to make his visitors as much at home as pos-
sible ; that on which a visitor should act, is to interfere aa
little as possible with the domestic routine of the house.
The worst part of a country visit is the necessity of
giving gratuities to the servants, for a poor man may often
find his visit cost him far more than if he had stayed at
home. It is a custom which ought to be put down be-
cause a host who receives much should pay his own ser-
vants for the extra trouble given. Some people have made
by-laws against it in their houses, but, like those about
gratuities to railway-porters, they are seldom regarded.
In a great house a man-servant expects gold, but a poor
man should not be ashamed of offering him silver. It
must depend on the length of the visit. The ladies give
to the female, the gentlemen to the male servants. Would
that I might see my friends without paying them for their
hospitality in this indirect manner.
PART III.
THE INDIVIDUAL IN COMPANY,
CHAPTER XL
DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
" BOARD !" cried a friend of mine one morning after a
heavy dinner-party ; " It ought to be spelt ' bored.' Never
was a more solemn torture created for mankind than these
odious dinner-parties. Call it society ! so you might call
the Inquisition ; and I really have my doubts whether I
should not be as happy "between a couple of jailers, insert-
ing another and another wedge into the terrible boot, as
between that garrulous old woman, who never waited for
an answer, and that nervous young lady who never gave
one, with a huge epergne between me and the rest of my
fellow-creatures, an occasional glimpse of an irritable,
solemn host at one end, and a most anxious hostess at the
other. Upon my word, two whole hours of this, with the
most labored attempts at conversation all round, in a dark
room with a servant perpetually thrusting something across
my shoulder, exciting each time a fresh alarm of a shower
of sauce or gravy : stupidity worked up to silliness by bad
(342)
THE MORALITY OF DINNER-PARTIES. 343
champagne and worse port, and, when every one is wearied
to death a white-mouse ditty from the shy young lady,
and another hour and a half of that frantically garrulous
old one really is this society ?"
Perhaps not ; but that is no reason why a dinner-party,
properly selected and properly served, should not be as
pleasant a meeting as any other. Indeed in England it
ought to be pleasanter. The English are not famous for
conversation ; but it has been proved, that if you want
them to talk, you must put something substantial into their
mouths. One thing is certain, namely, that a dinner-party
*3 the main institution of society in this country, and one
which every class and every denomination recognizes and
permits. Many people denounce balls as wicked, and con-
sider evening parties frivolous, but none see any harm in
being well fed, and made to drink a certain or uncertain
quantity of wine. It certainly has often surprised me,
that at the very time when we are appealing to men of
all positions and all fortunes for subscriptions to relieve
the destitute poor when starving brethren are crawling
in their filthy rags along the crowded pavement when the
homeless are crouching on our door-steps, and perishing of
hunger but a few streets off, the noble philanthropist who
presides at a meeting foi their relief, and the bishop who
calls for charity for them from the pulpit, should see no
harm in encouraging, by their presence, the prodigality
and Sybarite luxury of professional dinner-givers (for
they make it almost a profession). It is certainly strange,
that while Scripture is ransacked for texts inculcating
almsgiving and the duty of feeding the hungry, thoso
words of Solomon, which denounce the man who gives to
the rich, should be so completely overlooked. It is re-
344 DINNERS, DINERS AND DINNER-PARTIES.
markable, that the man who can with difficulty be brought
to give a ten-pound note to keep a hundred souls alive,
should, of his own free-will, spend twice the sum once a
week in feasting with dainties some dozen of his fellow-
creatures, who can scarcely get up the requisite amount
of appetite to enjoy them. But, after all, it is not so
strange, for men are selfish, and the good-will of a few
rich is more highly prized than the gratitude of many
poor.
But let this pass, and let us console ourselves by the
reflection that common sense, if no higher feeling, will in
time simplify our social banquets ; and that charity, some
fifty years hence, will see no harm, as it now would, ir
calling in the blind, the halt, and the needy, to partake
of the dishes we now spread only for the rich, the fash-
ionable, and the appetiteless. One rule, however, we may
gain at once from these considerations, that only the
wealthy should be dinner-givers, and the man who cannot
"afford" X 5 for the starving, should on no account af-
ford .20 for the well fed.
A dinner, like a pun, 'should never be made public un-
less it be very good, but at the same time modern im-
provements enable it to be that without being also very
expensive. The goodness of a dinner does not consist in
the rarity and costliness of the viands, but in the manner
in which they are cooked and served, in the various con-
comitants which contribute to give it brilliance and ele-
gance, and yet more in the guests who eat it.
This last point is, in fact, the most important, so that
the invitation is only a second consideration to the dinner
itself. The rules for invitations, and some hints whom
to invite are given in the next chapter by my colleague
WHOM TO INVITE. 845
i need give but a few hints of my own. Peojle who have
a large acquaintance and give dinners, should keep a
book in which to write the names of those who compose
each party, which prevents the mistake of asking the same
person twice, and of bringing precisely the same people
together again when their turn comes round. There are
indeed some privileged persons like myself, agreeable old
bachelors, who, being free from encumbrance and full of
talk, are always welcome and generally wanted. In fact,
such men run a risk of being known as professional diners
out, like the convivce of Rome, so that it is a greatei
charity not to invite them too often. And this reminds
me that you should not ask a man without his wife,
though you may leave his sons and daughters out of the
calculation. Then, again, the very ancient had better be
left to dine at home, unless, like Lady Morgan, they
preserve their conversational powers. The invitation must
be answered as soon as possible, and the answer addressed
to the lady of the house.
But the question whom to invite, is one which cannot
be so easily answered. First, there are some people
whom you must invite sooner or later, namely, those at
whose houses you have dined ; because you may neglect
every Christian duty, and be less blamed than if you omit
this social one. This is certainly absurd, and society be-
comes almost low when dinner-parties take the semblance
of a tacit contract, in which the one party undertakes to
feed the other to-day, if the other will feed him in return
before the end of the season. Yet I have known people
not at all ashamed to complain that they have not been
asked to dinner, and not blush to say. " They owe us a
dinner, you know." Somehow, then, you must manage
346 DINNERS, DINERS. AND DINNER-PARTIES.
to acquit yourself of these dinner debts before the season
is over. Society condemns you severely if you do not
pay your debts of hospitality. Of course this applies
only to people who are known to be in the habit of giving
dinners. Those who from one cause or another do not do
so, are still invited, though not so often.
But when you have done your duty religiously in this
respect, you have the world before you. Where to
choose? Now, after taking into due consideration the
congruities and sympathies of those you may select, the
chief point is to invite men and women an equal number
of each of course who can talk. By this I do not mean
your rapid utterers of small-talk, who can coin more
pretty nonsense in half an hour than a modern novelist in
three months, but men, who having gone through the
world, and tamed their Pegasus with the curb of experi-
ence, not being bound, Mazeppa-like, on the back of some
wretched hobby, can gallop smoothly over the themes
that life and the newspapers supply to wit; men who
view life calmly from the height to which they have
ilimbed, without prejudice and without awe ; and women
who are capable of understanding and answering such men
as these. But you must carefully avoid the eater, by
which I mean both the gourmand and the gourmet, both
the alderman whose motto is quantity, and the epicure
who cries for quality. Of what good is it to pander to
the greediness of a vile being, whose soul lies in the
stomach, as the Greeks affirmed that it always did, and
whose mind and thoughts are much in the same region.
If such men can talk at all, it is only of eating, and if
you do not feed them with the especial dainties they look
for, their gratitude shows itself in sneers at your hospi-
WHOM TO INVITE. 347
taiity when they next dine out. Wits, again, and men
who think themselves to be so, should never be asked
singly, for they will engross the conversation, and silence
the rest. When asked in numbers, they keep one another
within limits.
The number of the guests is a difficulty. People find
that it is more economical to give large than small din-
ners, and will therefore continue to go on in solemn gran-
deur. But the best dinners are those at which all the
guests can join in a common conversation, to which the
host being within hearing of all his party can give the
proper lead. Such dinners alone can be agreeable to all,
because no one is dependent on the liveliness of his or her
nearest neighbor for conversation. As it is, too many at
dinner is nothing better than an eating quadrille, where
each person has a .partner and is at his mercy ; only that
the dance lasts not an eighth of the time which the leashed
diner is compelled to pass in company with his partner.
Brillat Savarin says, that no dinner should have more
than twelve guests, and the old rule was, ''neither less
than the graces, nor more than the muses;" but London
dinners oftener exceed these limits than the reverse, while
country dinners mount up to twenty. Indeed, with -some
senseless people, the eclat of the dinner seems to consist
in the number of the guests, and the more you can feed
the more your glory. I am inclined to think that the
jld rule is the best ; but as it was made for tables at
which ladies never appeared, some alteration must be
made in it, and we may say generally, that an even num-
ber is better than an odd one, and that it should be either
six, eight, or ten. The first of course is reserved for
your dinners of honor, when the men you admire and the
348 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
women you love (two of each, for no man can find more
than that number in the world) dine with you and your
wife ; the second is your sociable dinner, at which all the
guests are more or less known to one another ; and the
third is your company dinner. If you exceed these num-
bers, you may do what you will to ' make your dinner
perfect, your guests will spoil it all by falling into coup-
les and eating in quadrille.
But there is another reason for limiting the number,
namely, that to give a good dinner, your means, your es-
tablishment, your dining-room, the capacities of the table,
and so forth, must all be taken into consideration. But
if the dinner is given to fourteen, sixteen, or even eigh-
teen, as is now common in large towns, you must either
increase your establishment and your expense not a little,
or be content, as people are, to give .them the regular
" feed," in which everybody knows beforehand what they
will have. One cook, for instance, cannot serve up pro-
per ly for more than a dozen people ; three men cannot
wait properly on more than ten ; and a table which will
hold more than that number will be so large as to sepa-
rate the opposite guests too far for easy and general con-
versation. Lastly, if your means enable you to dine a
hundred or a thousand every week, you would be a mad-
man to do so ; you might as well give your dinner to two
only, for what of that essential harmony, that communion
of mind and spirit, " the feast of reason and the flow of
soul," can there possibly be between a hundred, nay, even
seventy people, some of them so far from one another that
they could scarcely be heard without a speaking-trumpet ?
Having well selected your guests, you consider in what
room to dine them, for the regulai dining-room is not
THE DINING-ROOM. 349
always the most comfortable. If the party be imall six
or eight a large dining-room will look very ghastly, and
it should be borne in mind that dinner-givers of good
taste study comfort more than grandeur, which latter is
simply vulgar whether in the house of a duke or a haber-
dasher. The furniture of our dining rooms is certainly
improving a little. Nothing could be more chilling to -
the mind and appetite alike than the stone-colored walls,
displaying the usual magnificent oil-paintings of an un-
known school, the bust of the master of the feast at one
end looking almost less solemn than the original under it.
the huge table with its cumbrous silver adornments, the
stiff side-board and the stiffer chairs. Whether it was a
Puritanical attempt at simplicity which insisted that if we
would have a good dinner we should mortify the flesh
with bad concomitants, or whether it was a foolish fancy
that a dining-room should be cold, though the dinner
were hot, I cannot say ; but I feel that the man who
makes dining a study and he who gives dinners should
in charity do so must go farther in the improvements of
the room than we yet have. Light and an air of comfort
are the main essentials. The temperature must not, even
in summer, be too low, for sitting at dinner produces a
chill in itself. Thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaumur
are fixed for it by the author of the Physiologic dugout ;
but whatever the exact temperature, it must be obtained
before dinner by lighting the fire some hours previously,
and allowing it to burn rather low until near the end of
the meal, when it must be replenished. There are very
few days in an English summer when a small fire after
dinner is not acceptable. In very cold weather, when a
large one is necessary, it is not easy to manage so that
550 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES..
one-half of "the guests shall not have their backs roasted
and the other not be frozen, 'but there are two ways of
preventing it the one by a large glass screen before the
fire, the other by a table in the shape of a horse-shoe
or of a- segment of a circle, of which the chord will be
towards the fire. A dinner-giver will then have his round
or oval table so made as to be divisible into two separate
ones.
The shape of the table is, in fact, a more essential point
than some people think. In order that a dinner may be a
social meeting, not a mere collection of .tctes- '-t'ltes, as
it used to be till recently, and still is sometimes, the table
must be of a shape whicfc will not make conversation dif-
ficult between any two or more of the guests. The old
parallelogram, with the stately host at the end and the
radiant but anxious lady at the other, was fatal to con-
versation. It was too broad, too long, too stiff the cor-
ners cut off the lord and lady of the feast from their hon-
ored guests, and necessitated leaning across ; while if
Monsieur wished to make a remark to Madame, he had,
independently of the joints, epergne, and candelabra, a
length of table to impede him which compelled him to
raise his voice most unmusically. It caused a complete
divorce, in fact, and Sir Cresswell Cresswell could not
more effectually sever man and wife than that ancient
" board" For such it literally was in shape used to do.
The modern table is oval. Some people dine at round
tables, like Arthur and his knights, but these if large
enough for a party, will have a diameter every way too
long to allow any two opposite guests to converse. The
horse-shoe table is suited only for a small party, and the
base should not be occupied. As for the long " planks,'
THE SHAPE OF THE TABLE. 351
which served us for tables at college, and still do so at
public dinners, they have the advantage over the mahog-
any of the dinning-room, of allowing a guest five persona
to talk to instead of one, but they make elegance almost
impossible. A lozenge-shaped table, with the points
rounded off, sounds Epicurean, but it leaves open the
question where are the host and hostess to sit? At
the oval table I need scarcely say they sit in the middle
of each side, opposite to one another.
The dining-room must be, of course, carpeted even in
the heat of summer, to deaden the noise of the servants'
feet. The chairs should be easy, with tall slanting backs,
but without arms. As they should not be much higher
than drawing-room chairs, the table must be lowered in
proportion. Each person should be provided with a foot-
stool.
Light is positively necessary to digestion, and no party
can be cheerful without it. It is difficult to have too
much light, but profusion is less desirable than arrange-
ment, while a mere glare becomes painful. Gas and
candles should both be avoided on that and other ac-
counts, and the best media for lighting are carcelle, or
moderator-lamps, covered with open pink muslin, or tar-
latane, which, without diminishing, softens the light. The
principal object is to throw as much of it as possible on
the table, with sufficient on the faces of the guests. Light-
ing from the walls is apt to throw the latter into shade,
and a chandelier in the middle must be hung very low to
do justice to the former. Lamps on the table itself are
simply unpardonable, and must on no account be admit-
ted. The best plan is to have four chandeliers, contain-
ing each one large lamp, and hung over the places wheri?
352 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
the four corners of the table would come if it were a par-
allelogram instead of an oval. The rest of the room, how-
ever, must not be left in darkness, and lamps may be
placed on the side-board and side-tables. The latter must
be very neat, and both should be ornamented richly with
flowers rather than with that pompous display of plate
which is too commonly seen.
A few words about servants before we come to the table
itself. Women wait more quietly and quite as actively
as men, but a butler, who can carve well and rapidly, is
indispensable. If, however, you have men-servants, they
should not be too many. A party of ten can be perfectly
well served by two men and a butler, and, if there are
more than these, they only get in the way of one another,
or stand pompously by staring while you eat. Your ser-
vants should be well trained and instructed, and should
obey every order given by the butler. A master or mis-
tress should never speak to them at dinner, and they must
be themselves as silent as Sappists. They should wear
light shoes that cannot creak, and if they have a napkin
instead of gloves, you must see that their hands are per-
fectly clean. They should have their " beats" like po-
licemen, one beginning at the guest on his master's right
and ending with the lady of the house, the other with the
guest on his mistress's right ending with the master.
The table, on which all eyes are turned, is the next
point. Great changes have taken place in the last ten or
fifteen years in its arrangements, and as the Russian plan
is now adopted in the best houses, and is, at the same time,
the most elegant, I shall not stop to speak of any other.
The main point is to secure beauty without interfering
with conversation. Given, therefore, a table-cover, and a
ARRANGEMENT OF THE TABLE. 353
white damask table-cloth over it, what are we to place
thereon? First, nothing high enough to come between
the heads of any two of the party, and therefore must
epergnes, lamps, and so forth, be eschewed as nuisances.
Next, that which is pleasant and agreeable to the eye, and
something that it can dwell upon with pleasure. A com-
mon object for the centre is desirable, and this should be
some work of art, of Parian or china, not too high nor
too large, and on each side towards the thin ends of the
oval should be bowls of biscuit-ware or china, filled with
flowers; or, to be elegant, you may have two little table-foun-
tains, provided their basins are low. The rest of the table
must be covered with dessert. By this arrangement plate
becomes a secondary matter, and indeed a display of mas-
sive silver is rather chilling, and always looks ostentatious.
In addition to the flowers mentioned, the French often
place a bouquet on the napkin of each lady, and the at-
tention is certainly a pretty one. The place for each guest
should be roomy, but not too far from his neighbors. The
dinner-service of the present day may be reduced to plates
alone, since everything else is served at the side-table. I
am inclined to think that pure white china with a gilt edge,
and the best of its kind, is the fittest service to dine off,
but this is a matter of taste only. At any rate, the dessert-
service should be handsome. Bachelors at dinner have a
great advantage in having their light wine placed by tluir
glasses in black bottles, but in other dinners the wine ia
handed. It will, however, be well on all occasions to have
sufficient glasses for all the wines to be drunk placed on
the right hand of each plate, and the same may be said of
knives, spoons, and forks. The napkins may be folded
according to fancy. Sometimes they are placed on thfl
354 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
plate with a roll of bread inside, and sometimes arranged
in a fan-shape in the champagne-glasses. For my own
part, I prefer to think that no hands have been soiling
mine before I use it, and perhaps the most elegant way is
to lay them on the table or plate just as they come from
the washerwoman's.
No dish but those of dessert is placed on the table. I
have spoken of this, in the chapter on accomplishments,
under the head of carving, and shall not again discuss the
question. It suffices to say that 'where " 1'on salt diner"
no dish is either carved or helped at table. But I am now
going to recommend the revival of an ancient practice
which is now gone out. It is that each plate should be
filled with soup and put in its place at table, at the very
moment that the guests are coming into the room. The
object of this is to enable every one to begin dinner at the
same moment. The hungry do not talk well, and the
warm soup at once revives the spirits and slakes the ap-
petite. It is hard on a man to expect him to begin con-
versation while the ladies are sipping their soup and he is
waiting for it. Harmony and union are the essentials of
dinner, and where it can be so simply obtained, it is foolish
to neglect it. Yet I have little hope that this practice
will be adopted, because Engliah people seem to think
more of the pomposity than the comfort of. their dinner,
and the butler and men are required to stand and look
grand as the guests pass in. I may here observe that the
object of soup being to " take the chill off " the appetite
and prepare the inner man for the reception of solids, a
light soup is better than a thick one, which clogs the ap-
petite ; turtle is only fit for an alderman, and your soup
may therefore be inexpensive.
WI^E. 355
After the soup the wine. Modern Englishmen have so
Far improved upon their ancestors, that they nc longer
meet to drink but to dine, and the amount of the wine is
therefore of far less importance than its quality. The
order of the wines, reversing that of the solids, is from
the lightest to the strongest. The author of the Art of
Dining tells us, that " sherry, champagne, port, and
claret" are indispensable to the dinner-table. I should be
inclined to knock off two of these, champagne and port, and
put in a light Rhenish in their place. Port has become al-
most an impossibility, for age is a sine qui non of this wine,
and unless you have long had a good cellar, you have very
little chance of obtaining it good. In fact, though still
placed on the table, the use of it seem to be restricted to
a few old gentlemen, who cannot give up their customary
drink. George the Fourth declared for sherry, and I
cannot help thinking he was right. At any rate, bad port-
is less drinkable than bad sherry, and as you will too
often have only this choice of evils, I beg to hint how the
alternative may be most prudently taken. Champagne,
again, should be very good to be enjoyable, and it is also
becoming more and more difficult to procure. Both port
and champagne are doctored for every European market,
and a friend of mine visiting a famous wine-grower at
Epernay, tasted from the same cask no less than five dif-
ferent wines, all manufactured in a few hours out of the
the same original juice. I suspect that even an English
wine-merchant can produce as many different " vintages"
from the same stuff, as M. Houdin does wines from the
some bottle.
The mingling of water with wine is said to have been
discovered by an accident. A party of old Greeks, not
356 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
famous for sobriety, had been drinking on the sea-shoie,
when a storm arose, and in rapid haste they retreated to a
cave to take shelter. Probably tljey were not in a fit condi-
tion for carrying their goblets with them steadily. At any
rate they left them on the shore, and when the storm waa
over, found their wine converted by the rain into wine and
water. The allegation that the mixture spoils two good
things, as two good people are sometimes spoiled by marriage,
is one which a tippler will support more zealously than an
epicure. Mr. Walker, m the " Original," recommends
even port and water ; but however this may be, some Bor-
deaux wines gain, rather than lose, by the mixture, and you
may thus have, to accompany your eating, a cooling drink
which will not destroy your taste for the good wines to
follow it. A sensible man avoids variety in drinking.
One French wine during dinner, and sherry after it, or a
German wine for the meal, and claret for dessert, will
leave you much happier than mingling sherry, champagne,
claret, and port. Great care should be used in decanting
wine, so as not to shake or cork it. Claret appears in a
glass jug, but rare French wines, particularly Eourgogne
and the Vins du Midi, should be brought up and placed
on the table in their baskets, as decanting spoils them.
Although the guest should avoid variety, the host must
provide it in order to meet the tastes of all, and his ser-
vants should be taught to pronounce properly the names
of the different foreign wines, which are often so indistinct
that we are led into taking a white one when we wanted
red, or a French one when we expected Rhenish.
The bachelor has the great privilege of drinking beer
at dinner if he likes it. I cannot conceive how so good and
harmless an accompaniment of eating came to be excluded
FISH. 357
from the well-served table, unless from a vulgar fancy that
what is not expensive should not be set before a guest,
however good it may be. How happy people with these
notions would be in Ceylon, where Bass costs nearly a shil-
ling a glass. This reminds me of a story of some vulgar
man whose name I have forgotten, and do not care to re-
member. His host simply enough said to his guest, " This
wine cost me six shillings a bottle." " Did it ?" cried the
other. " then pass it round, and let's have another six-
penn'orth." The connoisseur of beer rightly judges that
it is spoiled by bottling ; draught beer is also the more
wholesome. A glass of old port is generally substituted
for the beer with cheese, but the drink with the German
student, an ardent lover of it, tells you was discovered by
" Gabrantius Konig von Brabant
Der zuerst das Bier erfand,"
is its more natural accompaniment.
If there were no other advantage in the Russian sys-
tem, as it is called, it would be Avorth adopting, only be-
cause it enables the dinner-giver to offer more variety,
instead of forcing him to sacrifice taste to the appearance
of his dishes. Thus the turbot and the cod were once
becoming standing dishes at all English dinners, and
small fish were banished because they did not put in a
majestic appearance. Yet there are many better fish
than cod and turbot, and there are many ways of dressing
fish which may not be so agreeable to the eye as to the
palate. Then, again, how exquisite is the flavor of some
fresh-water fish, and of several kinds of shell-fish, which
we so seldom see at great dinners ! How much better the
variety of trout, perch in souchet, fried gudgeons, even
358 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES
eels, mussels, and lampreys (both of which must be mod-
erately indulged in, the one producing very often a rush
on the face, which is cured by large quantities of fresh
milk, and the other being notorious as a regicide, which
those who read the commonest history of England will
remember), than that perpetual turbot. In fact, no kind
of eating can be more varied than that of fish ; yet, by
sticking to antique traditions, we deprive ourselves of the
enjoyment of all the wealth of sea and stream. There
are scores of ways of dressing them all too, which you can
learn in any good cookery-book, and almost any fish can
be made not only eatable but delicious by clever cooking.
But vulgarity has driven many a good but cheap eatable
from the table of the rich ; and the Duke of Rutland was
quite right to give Poodle Byng his conge. , when one of
these despised delicacies appeared at the Duke's table,
and Poodle exclaimed, " Ah ! my old friend haddock ! I
have not seen a haddock on a gentleman's table since I
was a boy." Oysters, though eaten at dinner in France,
are properly excluded from table in England, as being
much too heating, and carp is very indigestible ; but
there are the Devonshire John Dory, a far better fish
than turbot, red mullets, salmon-trout, whitings, smelt,
mackerel, sturgeon, the favorite of the Emperor of China,
and even sprats and herrings, to form a variety besides
those mentioned before.
But our chief thanks to the new system are due for its
ostracizing that unwieldy barbarism the joint. Nothing
can make a joint look elegant, while it hides the master of
the house, and condemns him to the misery of carving. I
was much amused at the observations of a writer on the
subject of dinners, who objected to flowers on the table.
THE ORDER OF DINNER. 359
' because we don't eat flowers, and everything that is on
the table ought to be eatable." At this rate the cook
would have to dish up the epergnes and candelabra. But
the truth is, that unless our appetites are very keen, the
eight of much meat reeking in its gravy is sufficient to
destroy them entirely, and a .huge joint especially is cal-
culated to disgust the epicure. If joints are eaten at all,
they should be placed on the side-table, where they will
be out of sight.
Vegetables should properly be served separately on a
clean plate after the roast, but when served with it, a
guest should be satisfied with at most two kinds at a time,
nothing showing worse taste than to load your plate.
Asparagus, pease, artichokes, haricots, vegetable marrows,
and spinach ought, if not a component part of a made
dish, to be served separately. There are many ways oi
dressing potatoes and carrots, which last are a vegetable
much neglected at English tables, but when quite young,
and dressed with butter in the French fashion, a delicious
eatable, and a preventive of jaundice, which should rec-
ommend them strongly to professional diners-out.
But I am not a cook, and cannot go through ever}
course with you. It must suffice to say, that the dishes
should not be too many, and that good cooking and
management make a better dinner than either profusion
or expenditure, or delicacies out of season. The main
points are originality and rarity, and to have the best of
everything, or not have it at all. Perhaps the strangest
dinner I ever ate was in tete-a-tete with a bachelor of
small appetite. There were but two courses. To the
first we stood up, opening our own oysters, and devouring
them till we could eat no more The second course, to
360 DINNERS. DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
which we sat down, consisted of a dozen marrow-bones,
of which we each discussed six. They were as hot as
they could be, and excellent. A variety of vegetables
completed this light repast, and though I could have
dined more largely, I was bound to confess that my friend
had given me a dinner which I should scarcely have got
elsewhere. Lest you should be tempted to offer a similai
repast to a large party, I must warn you that the marrow-
bone is not considered a presentable dish, and that the
marrow must be extracted by a special kind of spoon, of
which a clean one is required for every bone.
Brillat Savarin says, that the order of the solids should
be from the heaviest to the lightest. This is not strictly
observed either in France or England, and it may be use-
ful to know what is the order generally adopted in thia
country. It is as follows :
1. Soup.
2. Fish.
3. Patties (of oysters, lobsters, shrimps, or minced
real )
4. Made dishes, or entrees, which include poultry.
5. The roast, or piece de resistance.
6. Vegetables.
7. The game.
8. Pastry, puddings, omelettes.
9. The ice.
10. The dessert.
The salad ought to have, but seldom has a place in this
list, namely, after the ice, and with cheese. When made
aa a mayonnaise, that is with chicken, cold fish, or shell-
fish, it comes in as a made-dish. But a pure salad, well
dressed is "'a dish" to set before a king," and that you
SALADS. 361
may be able to dress it yourself, and we may finish our
dinner with cheerfulness, I give you Sydney Smith's re-
seipt to learn by heart,
' Two large potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve,
Unwonted softness to the salad give.
Of mordent mustard, add a single spoon ;
Distrust the condiment which bites too soon :
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault
To add a double quantity of salt.
Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,
And once with vinegar procured from town ;
True flavor needs it, and your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two well-boil'd eggs.
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, scarce suspected, animate the whole ;
And lastly, on the favor'd compound toss
A magic spoonful of anchovy sauce.
Then, though green turtle fail, though venison's tough,
And ham and turkey are not boil'd enough,
Serenely full, the epicure may say
Fate cannot harm me I have dined to-day ! "
Well, dinner is done, but not the diners. There re-
mains on the table what is a whole dinner in Italy, and
what is dinner enough for a poet fruit and wine. Talk-
ing of poets, though, reminds me that their chameleon
exsistence is only a poetic license. Byron, who dined off
potatoes and vinegar in public, generally rewarded him-
self in private with an unspiritual beef-steak, and " cut
from the joint ;" and the poets of " olden time." by which
I mean the days of eating in Athens and Rome, were
also the paraistes of the feast, and for a stave or two,
gladly accepted a steak or two, just as some later poeta
have dined with my Lord to-day, on the tacit understand-
ing that they should write him a dedication to-morrow
In fact, Grub street was not inappropriately named, if
16
362 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
slang be English ; and ~ most of our own poets, Mooro
and Rogers, e. g., have been careful diners. But, then,
the legend which made Minerva spring from the head of
Tupiter, has long been proved a good-natured mistake,
lestined to encourage " our minion lyricists," and there
is now no doubt that the muse of song and literature had
as large a corporation as any other of the nine. Wha
else is the meaning of " writing for bread ?"
But stop, I had nearly forgotten Grace. Well, that is
nothing very extraordinary, for the thanksgiving is posi-
tively the last thing thought of by the diner, and when it
is remembered, it is too often reduced to a mere formality.
What ridiculous mockeries are the long Latin graces
through which we had to stand at college, and the chanted
graces at public dinners ! If a man be really thankful to
God for what he gives him. a few thoughts, not words,
best express it ; but if words be necessary, let them be
short and solemn, that each one's heart may echo thorn.
Dr. Johnson was well reproved in his formal religion,
when his wife told him it was of no use to ask his Maker
to make him truly thankful, when the "next moment he
would sit down and abuse every dish on the table ; and
what was said to Johnson may be said to many a pamper-
ed diner-out, and to many a grumbling father of a family ;
" Better a dry morsel where love is, than a stalled ox,
and" let me adapt it to the present day "grumbling
therewith." How often does a man say the words of his
grace, and soon after find fault with the dinner, ungrate-
ful alike to his host and his Maker. But, as far as
etiquette goes, there is only this to be said, that the
audible grace is spoken by the master of the feast, or if
ft clergyman be present, by him. So in India, a Brali*
DUTIES OF HOST AND GUEST. 368
inin was always invited to bless the banquet, and give it
the sanction of his presence.
The etiquettes of dinner are not very numerous. We
have already spoken in Chapter vii. of the manners pro-
per at the dinner table. We have now to consider a few
duties of host and guest.
Punctuality may be the soul of business, but it is also
that of knife-and-fork play. Everybody must be punc-
tual at the great event of the day. " Dinner," said a
French cook, " is the hope of the hungry, the occupatior
of the idle, the rest of the weary, and the consolation of
the miserable !" Can any one be guilty of delaying such
a moment ? The Romans complained that before the sun-
dial was discovered., one dined when hunger ordered, but
afterwards hunger had to wait for time. In our modern
dining rooms, we have little fear that hunger will annoy
any one, but sometimes a delay may occur which may
make hunger a very intimate acquaintance. Thus, Cam-
bacer s, one of the best dinner-givers of his day, once
kept his guests waiting three hours, while he was engaged
on state business ; and Walpole relates how he once had
to wait nearly four hours for dinner at Northumberland
House, because the Lords were reading the Poor Bill.
The guests sat down at last without the Peers, but had
not done when the legislators tumbled in and had the
.whole dinner served up again. This dinner had been
fixed for the then fashionable hour of five, and did not
finish till eleven. However, this was more excusable than
the case of a late nobleman, who was seen mounting his
horse for his afternoon ride, just as his guests assembled
in the drawing-room.
o64 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
Next to the host and hostess, the cook ought to be
punctual. But the guest's arrival is more important still ;
and the guest has no excuse, because from the merest
selfishness, or want of consideration, he may put a whole
party to inconvenience. The invited having arrived, the
lady receives them in the drawing-room, and the conver-
sation is necessarily more or less formal, for everybody is
waiting for the event. At last a servant announces that
dinner is ready. It is then the part of the host to pair
off the guests. He himself takes down the lady of the
highest rank, or the greatest stranger. Distinctions of
rank are going out in good society, although precedence
exists just as a herald's office does ; but it may generally be
said that age has the real precedence, and a lady of ad-
vanced years should not be put behind any one of rank
under royal blood. The most intimate with the family take
the lowest, the least so, the highest place. At dinner,
the gentleman sits to the right of the lady, so that the
arrangment is easily made. In France there is no pro-
cession of this kind, and the awkwardness of precedence is
thus avoided. There, all the guests enter pell-mell, and
find their names written on papers placed on their nap-
kins. Besides these papers a bill of fare is placed on
each plate, when the dinner is really good, and the din-
ner-giver an epicure.
It is the duty of the host to lead the conversation as
much as possible, and it is still more his duty to make it
2;oneral. As, however, this art is little understood by
Englishmen, a man will generally have to talk more or
less to the lady on his left. He must take care not to
neglect her for the one on his right, however charming the
DINNER ETIQUETTE. 365
latter may be. The dinner over, and the servants dis-
missed, the ladies sit for a short time at dessert and then
retire ; the youngest man in the room rises to open the
door for them, and all the rest rise and stand by their
chairs. Then comes the " drawing-round," and the con-
versation grows lighter and easier. But young men and
old should beware of making it too light, or of running,
as our barristers often do, into stories that are unfit for
ladies' ears.
A true gentleman will be the same in ladies' society as
he is out of it. A young man should not linger over his
wine, and he n!ay rise and leave the dining-room before
che others go. But it remains with the host to offer to
"join the ladies," which he should do whenever he sees
any one growing warm over his port and talking too free-
ly. Coffee and tea are both served up stairs, and both
should be hot. Coffee is drunk without milk, and with
sugar ; tea, by those who know how to enjoy it, without
either ; but they are the rarce aves of society, men who
know what is good and enjoy it quietly. A little green
tea is necessary after wine, for it awakens and excites.
No man should drink enough wine to make him feel too
easy with the ladies. If he has done so without feeling
its effects, he had better go home before he goes up to the
drawing-room. In France the gentlemen come away with
the ladies, and there is no wine-drinking. In England
he custom is dwindling down to a mere form, and the
shorter you remain after the departure of the ladies the
better. But .remember, that many meats require as much
as four hours to digest, and that the best aid to digestion
is lively, easy conversation. A dinner party breaks uj?
366 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.
at about eleven. There should be a little music m the
evening ; but it is a great mistake to have a regular even-
ing party after a dinner. At eleven you 'go home, and
having had a walk, put on your white neck-tie for the
nexi event of the evening, which is discussed in the thir-
teenth chapter.
CHAPTER XII.
LADIES AT A DINNER.
WE have next to consider a lady in the all-important
character of a hostess at a dinner party.
Her first duty in this 'capacity is to send out her invi-
tations in due time and proper form. With regard to the
time, it is necessary, during the height of the London
season, to send an invitation three weeks before the din-
ner party ;abut, in the quiet season of the year, or in the
country, it is neither essential to do so, nor usual. The
best plan for persons who give many dinner parties, is to
have a plate with their names and invitations printed
thus :
Mr. and Mrs.
Request the favor of
Mr. and Mrs- 's
Company at dinner on the
at o'clock.
In writing to persons of rank far above your own, or
to clergymen of high dignity, such as bishops and deans,
the word " honor" should be substituted for " favor."
These invitations should properly be sent by a servant,
and not by the post, unless the distance be great.
Next comes the choice of guests, thus assembled, to sit"
in close contact for two hours or more.
This involves many considerations. If your guests do
368 LADIES AT A DINNER.
not assimilate, no luxury of dinners, no perfection of
manners on your part, can avert a failure. Yet so little
is this understood, that there are persons who collect, aa
it would seem, a party so discordant as to provoke a ques-
tion whether they had not shaken them all in a bag to-
gether, and turned them out loose upon each other the
man of easy principles with the serious doctor of divinity ;
the man of talent with a rich and mindless merchant ; the
quiet country family with the trashy London dashers,
and so on; and these solecisms in taste and discretion
occur frequently. Nor ought the worldly positions of
people to be the sole consideration. Many a nobleman
will assimilate far better with the poor author than with
the millionaire ; wealth, simply because it is wealth, gains
little prestige in good circles ; there is a prejudice against
the nouveau riches among the old families of England.
Neither is it desirable to club all your aristocratic or fash-
ionable acquaintance together ; you offend by so doing,
those who are left out ; and many lose valuable friends
who, however conscious they may be of an inferior posi-
tion, do not like to be reminded of it. It is something,
too, to avoid giving pain to the feelings of others.
The general rule, however, is to invite persons of nearly
. the same standing in society to meet at dinner ; taking
care that their general views and mode of life are not so
contrasted as to be likely to clash. In the country, dif-
ference of politics used to form a barrier ; Whig and Tory,
even if they sat at table together, would scarcely drink
wine with each other. But all that inconvenience to host
and hostess has long since passed away, and to the facili-
ties of forming a party the custom of no longer asking any
one to tike wine has contributed.
SELECTION OF GUESTS. 309
Those who wish to form agreeable dinner-parties will
avoid a class : a dinner composed of officers only and their
wives recalls too forcibly barrack life ; ' * talking pipe-
clay," as they term it, is as fatiguing as " the ship,'
though not so vulgar. Wives of officers in marching regi-
ments have generally travelled far, and seen nothing
they can tell you little but how bad their quarters were,
and how they were hurried away from such and such a
place. The gentlemen of the bar sprinkled about, make
a charming spice to a dinner ; but, like all spices, one
must not have too much of them : they want keeping
down, otherwise you have your dining-room turned into
Westminster Hall ; or you feel, if you venture to talk
yourself, as if you were subjecting yourself to a cross-
examination. Yet the late Lord Grenville remarked, that
he was always glad to meet a lawyer at a dinner-party
for he was then sure that some good topic would be started.
The title of doctor is against the fascination of a physi-
cian's manners ; his very attentions may seem to have an
interested air, since the doctor's clients are in society. A
conclave of doctors is even more formidable than one of
lawyers, for the former have only to deal with the consti-
tution of the state, and the latter are looking, perhaps, at
your constitution, and privately condemning it. A whole
party composed of clergymen is perhaps worse ; delightful
as companions, valuable as friends, as many clergymen
are, when assembled they run naturally into topics we do
not wish to have familiarized. Secular interests peep out
from those we esteem sacred ; the pleasures of gastrono -
my, which are as fully appreciated by the clergy as by
any other class, seem so little to accord with the spirit-
stirring eloquence we heard last Sunday, that we regret
370 LADIES AT A DINNER.
having met our "venerable rector" under such circum-
stances.
" Perhaps," says Dr. Johnson, " good-breeding consists
in having no particular mark of any profession, but a gen-
eral elegance of manners." On this principle of gene-
ralizing should dinner-parties be formed.
In high English society, to quote that accomplished
member of society, Mr. Hay ward, in his Treatise on
Codes of Manners, any calling was some few years since
derogatory to the perfect character of a gentleman ; it is
now otherwise. Yet the distinction of the aristocratic
professions, as opposed to other callings, is maintained,
and it will perhaps continue to be so. These are the
church, the bar, the higher walks of medicine, the army
and navy. The different members of these professions and
their wives and families are therefore fit for any society ;
there is no possible objection to their mixing at a dinner-
table with nobility, provided they be well-bred and agree-
able. The literary man, if a gentleman by education and
manners, is always an agreeable addition ; and the highest
in rank have in this country set the example of inviting
artists, architects, and sculptors, but not always their fam-
ilies, to their tables.
Great eminence in talents sets aside distinctions ; and
" the first class of millionaires." Mr. Hay ward assures us,
" rise superior to rules." But it is not in good taste to
follow out this last maxim, unless high personal character,
the good employment of vast wealth, and a gentlemanly
bearing, accompany riches. The lady, whose talk about
"bigotry and virtue" was the amusement of the cluba
some years since, "had no right, in regard to her husband's
position and character, to. be associated, as she was, with
PRECEDENCE. 871
women of high rank or of old patrician families ; the var-
nish has since been taken off the picture, and it has sunk
down to its original value, after having been at a fobuloug
estimation in the social mart.
The next points refer to the duties of a lady on the
arrival of the guests at the house. She remains in some
convenient part of her drawing-room, and too much can-
not be said of the importance of her being dressed some
time before the party arrives. Want of attention in this
respect, though very much less thought of now than for-
merly, is a real breach of good manners. Neither should
her daughters, should she have any, come dropping in
one by one, but should be seated, ready to receive the
visitors.
Previously, however, to her going up to dress, the' lady
of the house should have arranged, with some considera-
tion, who is to take precedence.
1. With respect to persons of title. These take pre-
cedence according to their titles; but. should there be
diplomatic foreigners of the first class, they go out first ;
or, should there be a bishop and his wife, precedence is
usually given to them by courtesy, even over dukes and
marquises ; bishops ranking with earls.* The same cour-
tesy is extended to all the dignified clergy ; whilst the
wives of all the clergy take precedence of the wives of
barristers ; and the wives of the esquires, without profes-
sions or trade, take precedence of both clergymen's and
barristers' wives. These distinctions are seldom, it is true,
rigorously to be pursued, but it is convenient to know
them ; it is as well, also, especially to remember that the
* See Lodge's Orders for Precedency. An {xrchbisiiop ranks witb
8 duke.
372 LADIES Al A DINNER.
wives of clergymen and of barristers, by right, take pre-
cedence of the untitled wives of military and naval men.
There is no place specified for physicans, who, however,
are ranked in the households of the royal family next to
the knights, and whose wives, therefore, go out after those
of the barristers.
These seem to be worldly and unimportant rules ; but
whatever prevents mistakes, ill-will, and the possibility of
doing a rude action without intention, comes under the
comprehensive head " How to be civil with ease." Be-
sides, although in friendly society, as it is called, a breach
of etiquette might not signify, there is so much that is
unfriendly, so much in which criticism stalks among the
company seeking whose conduct he may challenge, that a
hostess should be perfectly armed with every defence
against comment.
As her guests enter she should advance half-way to
meet them. This is a point of politeness ; and a lady in
a county near London gave great offence once at her first
dinner, by standing with one arm on her mantle-piece,
waiting till her company came up to her. All the chairs
should be ready, so that there should be no placing or
needless confusion ; but, should any change in the arrange-
ments of the rooms be requisite, it should be made by the
butler or by the gentleman of the house. The lady of
the house should do nothing but receive, converse, and
look as well as she can. To this end her room and all
the minutiae should be tastefully arranged. A distribu-
tion of natural flowers adds greatly to the gaiety of a
drawing-room, how richly or poorly soever it may be fur-
nished : people are apt to forget in England, what is never
forgotten in France, how greatly the style and arrange-
RECEPTION OF GUESTS. 373
ment of furniture contribute to make a party g) off well,
and those engaged in it look well, of which pleasing fact
people often have a sort of intuitive conviction, even with-
out the aid of the looking-glass.
And now the test of good-breeding in a hostess is to be
detected ; it is often a severe one. Her guests may arrive
all at once, she must not be hurried, yet each and all must
feel that they have her individual attention. .She must
have something pleasing and cheerful to say to every one,
but she must not say or do too much. Perhaps her guests
are late, or perhaps, worst martyrdom of all, her servants
are late in announcing dinner. She chafes inwardly ; but
still, feeling as if on a stage, with an army of observation
around her, she bears up ; strikes out new subjects ; ap-
pears as if still expecting some one ; no, nothing is to go
wrong with her ; be it ever really so wrong that day,
she must not seem to notice it.
It may be argued that this implies a degree of self-
restraint akin to dissimulation ; but that is an error ; self-
restraint does not imply dissimulation. At le.lgth dinner
is announced ; perhaps a few minutes previously some
reckless youth, or sexagenarian, but probably the former,
since the being too late for dinner is not commonly the
fault of age, comes breathlessly in. I am shocked to say
I have seen married ladies look very much out of temper
at the delinquent on such occasions, especially if he hap-
pened to be " some one we must ask" a youth from col-
lege, or a country cousin and I have heard the gentleman
call out " dinner" to the servant before the door was
closed. The French host and hostess would die rather
In a well-arranged party the butler should have a list of
374: LADIES AT A DINNER.
the guests, so that he may know, as one after another
comes in, that he may be placing the silver dishes with hot
water in them on the table, arranging the lights, and doing
many little things that require time, and, if omitted, cause
delay.
The party being assembled, and dinner announced, the
gentleman of the house offers the lady of the highest rank
his arm, and, having previously arranged with the othei
gentlemen which ladies they are to conduct, moves off
with the one he has chosen to the dinner-table, and places
her on his right hand, next to himself.
The gentleman appointed to conduct the lady of the
house almost simultaneously offers her his arm ; they fol-
low, and 4jjre followed in their turn by the whole of the
company, linked by previous arrangement. As these va-
rious couples enter, the master of the house, already in
the dining-room, arranges where they are to sit. Some-
times, however, and in certain houses, this is not done,
but, more gracefully I think, the party seat themselves as
they enter ; a due sacrifice to the rules of etiquette having
been made by the master, and mistress of the house in their
own persons.
It is still customary, but not invariably so, as formerly,
for a lady to sit at the head of her own table. Let us,
however, suppose her there, as being the most frequent
arrangement.
Henceforth she has nothing to do with the dinner, except
to partake of it. In old times, the lady presiding was
expected to carve every dish before her, and to be perfect
in the art of carving. Lady Mary Montague, presiding
at her father's table, was condemned, at fifteen, to perform
CONVERSATION AT DINNER. 87c
this feat whenever her father had a party. Had she lived
now she need never have touched a spoon, fork, or knife,
except those on her own plate ; her lovely face might
have beamed serenely on those around her ; and her dawn-
ing powers of mind have been enhanced by conversation,
which was in those days impossible. In the present era,
whilst the hostess should, as it were, see everything that
goes on, or does not go on, she should look at nothing,
say nothing, and reserve all stricutres on failure and re-
proof, if needful, not until the time when guests shall have
departed, but until the next day, when her servants, hav-
ing recovered the fatigue of unusual exertion, will be
more willing to listen without irritation and to good effect
than on the previous evening.
Drinking much wine is vulgar, whether the sin be per-
petrated by a duchess or a farmer's wife : all manifest
self-indulgence tends to vulgarity. A lady, also, should
not be ravenous at table ; neither should she talk of
eating or of the dishes. Whatever conversation takes
place should be easy ; if possible sensible, even intellec-
tual, without pedantry. It may be personal, if with pru-
dence ; for nothing is so agreeable, for instance, as to hear
public characters discussed at table ; and there is a nat-
ural love of biography in the human mind that renders
anecdote, without scandal, always agreeable. The conver-
sation at dinner tables is usually carried on in an under
^tone, and addressed first to one neighboring gentleman,
then to another. In large dinner-parties general conver-
sation is impossible. It is only at that delightful form
.of social intercourse, a small party, that one may enjoy
the luxury of an animated and general conversation.
376 LADIES J" 1 A DINEER.
It is now the custom for ladies to retire after the ice
and dessert have gone round. They then retire, almost
in the same order as they came, to the drawing-room.
Here the province of the lady of the house is to maintain
easy and cheerful conversation, and to make it, if possible,
general. Her labors are often not well repaid, but, in
modern times, are not of long duration.
One is tempted, however, sometimes to envy the French
customs. At a Parisian dinner-party, each gentleman
rises with his appointed lady, neighbor, gives her his arm,
and leads her into the drawing-room, where coffee cornea
in directly. Thus the evening begins. In some instances
the gentlemen, and ladies also, soon take their leave
in others, remain till ten or eleven o'clock. But the
dreary interregnum which still occurs in this country,
whilst mine host is circulating the bottle below and
ladies are discussing their servants, the last tooth their
baby cut, or the raging epidemic, in the drawing-room
above is unknown in the salons of Paris.
It must not be forgotten that all the comfort and part
of the success of a dinner-party must depend on the pre-
vious arrangements ; but the qualities which regulate a
house, and the experience which is brought to bear upon
the important knowledge of how to give a dinner-party.
as far as the material part is concerned, is not in my
province.
What Lord Chesterfield says is here to the purpose:
"The nature of things," he remarks, "is always and
everywhere the same, but the modes of them vary more
or less in every country ;" but good-breeding, he adds; con-
sists in an easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather,
AFTER DINNER. 3^
! the assuming of them at proper times and in proper
places."
In conclusion, let us recal the advice of Napoleon the
First, who duly respected the importance of dinner-parties
as a social institution :
" Triez bonne table, ct soiynez les femmet"
CHAPTER XiiL
BALLS.
BALLS are the paradise of daughters, the purgatcry of
chaperons, and the Pandemonium of Paterfamilias. But
when he has Arabella's ball-dresses to pay for; when
mamma tells him he cannot have the brougham to-night,
because of Lady Fan tile's dance ; when he finds the house
suddenly filled with an army of upholsterer's men, the
passage barricaded with cane-bottomed benches, the draw-
ing-room pillaged of its carpet and furniture, and in course
of time himself turned bodily out of his own library with
no more apology than, " We want it for the tea to-night ;"
when, if he goes to bed, there is that blessed oh ! yes, bless-
edhorn going on one note all night long, and, if he stops
up has no room to take refuge in, and must by force of cir-
cumstances appear in the ball-room among people of whom
he does not know one quarter, and who will perhaps kindly
put the final stroke to his misery by mistaking him for his
own butler ; when Paterfam. undergoes this and more, he
has no right to complain, and call it all waste of time and
pure folly. Will he call it so when Arabella announces
that she is engaged to the young and wealthy Sir Thysse
Thatte, Bart., and that it was at one ball he met her, at
another he flirted, at a third he courted, and at a fourth
offered? "Will he call it so when he learns that it is the
balls and parties innocent amusements which have kept
(378)
THE INVITAIIONS. 379
his son Augustus from the gaming-table, and Adolphus
from curapoa ? Perhaps he will give them a worse epithet
when they have killed Ada and worn out her mother. But
then whose fault was that ? Est modus in rebus, and
balls in moderation are as different from balls in exce? as
gun-practice at Woolwich from gun-practice at Delhi.
There is not half enough innocent amusement in Eng-
land, and, therefore, there is far too much vice. I should
like to see dancing come in and drinking go out (as it
would do) among our lower orders. I should like to see
Clod clap his heels together on the village-green, instead
of clogging his senses -with bad beer at the village public-
house. They do so in France, and the French are a
sober race compared with the English. It would improve
the health of the women and the morals of the men. But
this is not my present affair. The advantage of the ball
in the upper, classes is. that it brings young people to-
gether for a sensible and innocent recreation, and take?
them away from silly, if not bad ones, that it gives them
exercise, and that the general effect of the beauty, ele-
gance, and brilliance of a ball is to elevate rather than
deprave the mind.
Balls can only be given often by the rich, but ball-goers
are expected to turn ball-givers once a year at least, and
your one dance, if well arranged, will cost you as much
as your dinners for the whole season. It is not often then
that people who have no daughters, and are too old to
dance themselves, give a ball ; and, as a rule, if you can-
not afford to do it in good style, it is better to leave it
alone. In London, however, no one will blame you for
not giving a dance. The difficulty, then, is not to find
bulls enough to go to, but time enough to go to all.
S80 BALLS.
When you have made up your mind to give a ball, and
have succeeded in fixing a day when there will be no very
grand affair, such as a court-ball, to take your guests
away, the first thing to do is to send the invitations.
11 How many shall we ask, Arabella?"
" Oh ! at least two hundred, mamma. I do so like a
large ball."
" Nonsense, my dear, our rooms won't hold eighty with
comfort."
"Then there is the staircase."
" A pleasant prospect for late comers."
"And the hall."
"Where they will have the society of the footmen
very agreeable."
" And the conservatory," urges Arabella.
" No, my child, that is reserved for flirtations. In
short, if we have more than a hundred, it will be a terri-
ble crush."
" But, mamma, a crush is quite the fashion. I'm sure
people here in London don ? t go to balls to dance."
" What for then, Miss Wisdom ?"
" To say they have been there ; to say it was a fright-
ful crush at the Joneses ; to see their neighbors, to be
sure."
" And to be melted with the heat."
" Well, we can ice them, mamma."
However, Arabella is partly right. In London, and
during the season, if a ball is given as a formality, an
the rooms are not large, it is better to give up the hope
of comfortable dancing, and have the renomm' e of a
crush. All the gentlemen who failed to get into the
drawing-room, and all the young ladies whose dresses
BALLS. 881
were hopelessly wrecked, will execrate, but still remem-
ber you, and it is something to be remembered in London,
whether well or ill. So that when you have called your
guests together as close as sheep in a fold, allowed them
to take an hour to climb the stairs, and half an hour to
get down again, given them a supper from Gunter's, with
champagne of the quality which induced impudent Brum-
mell to ask for " some more of that cider ; very good
cider that," you have done the notorious if not the agree-
able thing, and Mrs. Fitzjones' ball will be talked of and
remembered. But there are better ways of achieving this
highly desirable notoriety of three days' duration.
Any number over one hundred constitutes a " large
ball," below that number it is simply " a ball," and un-
der fifty " a dance." I have been at a ball of ten thous-
and, as large as the garrison of Paris itself, given by
Madame Hausmann at the Hotel de Ville in that city,
and yet, though it was not " the thing" to dance there,
the rooms looked almost empty, so many and so large
were they. On the other hand, I have been at the Tuil-
eries when there was not a tenth of that number, and
found the dancing confined to one little spot in the long
gallery, about as large as an ordinary London drawing-
room. In short, the numbers must be proportioned to
the size of the rooms, with this proviso, that the more
you have, the more brilliant, the fewer you have, the
more enjoyable it will be.
In making your list, you must not take in all your
acquaintance, but only all those who are moveable the
marianettes, in fact. Middle-aged people think it a com-
pliment to be asked to a ball about as much as the boa-
constric'ior in the Regent's Park would. Both he and
882 BALLS.
they like to be fed, and after fi ve-and-thirty, it is laborious
not cnly to dance, but even to look at dancing.
" What shall we do for gentleman, mamma? I have
counted up thirty-eight young ladies who dance, and only
twenty-five partners for them."
In some places this is a question to which there is no
answer but despair. Young men are at a premium in the
ranks of Terpsichore as much as those of death, and thoy
nust be bribed to join by as large a bounty, in the shape
of a good supper. " I shan't go to the Fitzjoneses," yawns
De Boots of the Scotch Muffineers, " the champagne was
undrinkable last year, and the pute. de foie gras tasted
like kitten." How De Boots of the Muffineers comes to
know the taste of kitten does not transpire.
" Well, my love," says mamma, " we must get some
intimate friends to bring a young man or two."
Thereupon there is a casting up of who knows whom,
and whom it would be best to commission as recruiting-
sergeant. But mamma, Arabella, and the intimate ami
de la maison may talk and write and labor, they will
never make up the full war complement, and wall-flowers
will flourish still. This system of " bringing a friend "
is a very bad one, and should be avoided. It reminds me
of a story of worthy Mrs. P , who had Junot's house in
Paris, and in its magnificent rooms gave some of the larg-
est and most brilliant balls, but, owing to the " friend 7 *
system, very mixed. So much so that on one occasion a
gentleman went up to her and told her that there was one
of the swell mob present. Mrs. P was deaf and amia-
ble. " Dear me," she replied, " is there really ? I hope
he has had some supper." But the disciple of Fagan had
taken care if himself; he had not only had supper, but
THE ARRANGEMENTS. 383
when he had done using his fork and spoon, had, in the
neatest manner, put them away in his pocket / so that the
next time I went to Mrs. P 's, I found a mouchard
sitting near the door, behind a large book. I was asked
my name and address, and doubtless my description wal
taken down too. I found that ladies as well as gentlemen
were treated in this way.
Your best plan, therefore, is to invite only one- third
more than your rooms will hold, for you may be sure that
more than that number will disappoint you. The invita-
tions should be sent out three weeks beforehand, and you
need not expect answers, except from those who have an
excuse for not accepting.
The requisites for an agreeable ball are good ventila-
tion, good arrangment, a good floor, good music, a good
supper, and good company. The arrangements are perhaps
more important than any other item, and in this country
they are little understood or greatly neglected. Yet the
enjoyment of the dancers is materially increased by the
brillance and elegance of the details, beauty and dress are
enhanced by good lighting or proper colors, and the illu-
sion of a fairy like scene may be brought up by judiciou?
management, and the concealment of everything that
does not strictly accord with the gaiety. In Paris, where
balls, in spite of the absence of supper, are more elegant
than anywhere else, a vast deal of effect and freshness is
secured by the employment of shrubs, plants, and flowers,
and these may be freely used without making your rooms
fantastic. Thus that odious entrance from the kitchen
stairs, which yawns upon the lobby of most London houses.,
should b'e concealed by a thick hedge of rhododendrons in
pots; the balustrades of the staircase and gallery should
884 BJLLS.
be woven with evergreens, and all the fire-places should
be concealed by plenty of plants in flower. In Paris,
again, the musicians are unseen, and the strains of the
piano, horn, flageolet, and violin proceed from behind a
flowery bank, artfully raised in one corner of the ball-
room.
It is a rare thing in London to find more than four or
five rooms en suite, and often the number does nor exceed
two. In the " flats" of the large French houses, you
have often as many as seven or eight rooms opening one
into another, and so much is the advantage of space re-
cognized, that a bed-room even is opened at the end of
the suite, if necessary. I have danced in a room where
the grand bed was standing in an alcove, scarcely con-
cealed by thin muslin curtains, and disguised with 9-
coverlet of embroidered white satin. But in England ar v
sacrifice should be made to secure a refreshment-room, if
not a supper-room, on the same floor as the ball-room,
nothing being more trying to ladies' dresses than the
crush down and up the stairs. A cloak-room down stairs
for the ladies, with one or two maids to assist them ; a
tea and coffee room, with at least two servants ; and a
hat-room for gentlemen, are indispensable. If the ball is
a large one, numbered tickets should be given for the
cloaks and hats.
Up stairs the color and lighting of the rooms is essen-
tial. The ball-room especially should be that which has
the lightest paper ; and if there be dark curtains, par-
ticularly red ones, they must be taken down and replaced
by light ones. The best color for a ball-room is very
pale yellow. The light should come from the walls,
Iit.ghtened by strong reflectors. Chandeliers are dan-
THE FLOOR. 385
gerous, and throw a downward shadow ; at any rate, wax
should always be replaced by globe lamps. After the
Tuileries' balls, we often returned with complete epau-
lettes of wax-spots on our shoulders, if in moments of
carelessness we had stood under the chandeliers. Gas is
heating, and throws rather a sickly glare.
How can we dance well without a proper ground ? It
was all very well for nymphs and satyrs to " trip it on
the light fantastic toe' : over greensward and pebbly paths,
but then they did not waltz d deux temps. A * ' carpet-
dance" is a bad dance, and the cloth drawn over the Kid-
derminster is seldom tight enough, and never so good as a
floor. English people have as great a horror of taking up
their carpets as Frenchmen are supposed to have of wash-
ing their necks. Probably the amount of dust which
would meet their gaze is too appalling to think of. Then,
again, English boards are of a wood which it is not easy
to polish. Commend me 'to the old oak-floors, which,
with a little bees'- wax, come out as dark as ebony, and
help the unskilled foot to glide. However, a polished
floor, whatever the wood, is always the best thing to dance
on, and, if you want to give a ball, and not only a crush,
you should hire a man who, with a brush under one foot,
and a slipper on the other, will dance over the floor for
four or five hours, till you can almost see your face in it.
Above all, take care that there is not bees' -wax enough
to blacken the ladies' shoes. It is the amount of rubbing
which must give it the polish.
Four musicians are enough for a private ball. If the
room is not large, do away with the horn ; the flageolet
is less noisy, and marks the time quite as well. A piano
and violin form the mainstay of the band ; but if the room
17
886 BALLS.
be large, a larger band may be introduced to great advan-
tage. The dances should be arranged beforehand, and,
for large balls you should have printed a number of dou-
ble cards, containing on the one side a list of the dances ;
on the other, blank spaces to be filled up by the names of
partners. A small pencil should be attached to each
card, which should be given to each guest in the cloak-
room. Every ball opens with a quadrille, followed by a
waltz. The number of the dances varies generally from
eighteen to twenty-four, supper making a break after the
fourteenth dance. Let us suppose you have twenty-one
dances ; then seven of these should be quadrilles, three
of which may be lancers. There should next be seven
waltzes, four galops, a polka, a polka-mazurka, and some
other dance.
fWe come at last to what some people of bad taste
think the most important part, the eating and drinking.
As a first rule, it may .be laid down that nothing should
be handed in a ball. A refreshment-room is, therefore,
indispensable. The ladies are to be first considered in
this matter. The refreshments may be simple, comprising
tea, lemonade, that detestable concoction called negus,
iced sherbet, ices, wafers, cakes, and bonbons. In French
parties they give you, towards the end of the evening, hot
chocolate, and this is cominginto fashion in England, and
is certainly very refreshing?! In the south of Germany
a lady asks you to fetch her a glass of beer ; in Munich,
this is customary even in the court circles. There is a
terrible prejudice against beer in England, but it is per-
haps the best thing to drink after dancing. Fancy our
pretty Misses quaffing their pint of Bass ! Yet why not ?
In Germany and France, and now, too, in England, the
REFRESHMENTS. 887
favorite bonbon is a chestnut or slip of orange in a coat
of candied sugar. I remember well at Munich a trick
that was played on an old geheim-rath : who was known
to have a violent passion for oranges glac'zes, and suspect-
ed of carrying them away in his pockets in large quanti-
ties. A number of young officers managed to stuff his
coat-pockets with these bonbons without his discovering it,
und then one of them, assuming great interest in the old
gentleman, induced him to sit down for a little chat.
When he got up again there was a stream of orange
juice issuing from each coat-tail, and the old man pottered
about quite unconscious of the amusement he excited.
[The supper, of course, has a separate room, which must
be well lit. Of its contents, as I am not a confectioner,
I can say nothing. Two things I can say : Ice every-
thing (in a London season) that can be conveniently iced,
and let there be nothing that requires carving. The
fowls and birds should, therefore, all be cut up. The
supper hour in London is generally midnight, after which
it goes on till the end of the ball. In England, it is
usually served with much expense and display on a table,
round which all the dancers stand ; but in France, even
at the Tuileries, it is arranged on long buffets, as in our
public balls, the servants standing behind, and thus sav-
ing a vast deal of pushing about, and much trouble, to the
gentlemen. Another importation from France, is the cus-
tom of giving hot soup at supper, and a very good one it
is. In fact, hot things arc still to be desired for supper,
and always will be acceptable. At a ball no one sits
down to supper ; at a small dance the ladies sit. and the
gentleman stand behind them. A lady should never
drink more than one glass of champagne ? nor a man more
388 BALLS.
than two.' There is a modern custom which saves the
pockets of ball-givers, and is most grateful to dancers,
that of giving the men bottled beer. No man of sense
will drink bad gooseberry when he can get good Bass.
The latter refreshes more, and intoxicates less ; but unti]
we become sensible on this point, champagne will remain
as indispensable an element of the ball-supper as trifle
tipsy-cake, and mayonnaise ; which last, if made with
fish, is the best dish you can eat at this meaJJ
I now pass to the etiquettes of the ball-room.
In the days when bows were made down to an angle of
45, and it took two minutes to sink and two to rise in a
curtsey, the givers of balls must have been punished for
their entertainment by a stiffness the next day quite as
trying as that of the young gentleman who has followed
the hounds for the first time in his life. As for the worthy
Prefect and Madame la Pref-'cte de la Seine, they would
have been carried away lifeless with fatigue before the
half of the thousands had had their bow in the receiving-
room of the Hotel de Ville at Paris. In the present day
the muscles of the mouth are brought more into requisi-
tion, and for the time being the worst of Xantippes must
turn into an angel of amiability if she gives a ball. The
lady of the house must, in short, linger till supper-time
in the neighborhood of the door by which her guests enter
the rooms ; she must have a pleasant smile for everybody;
and, if possible, she should know everybody's name, .ind
now many they are in family. To a large ball you ask a
great number of people with whom you have a slight ac-
quaintance, and of course a number of gentlemen arrive
who naay be your husband's or son's friend's or recruHa
levied by an ami de la maison. To these a bow rather
RECEIVING THE GUESTS. 389
more inclined than to your own friends, and a particularly
amiable smile, is necessary ; but in order to put them
quite at their ease, you should be able to come forward and
say some little polite phrase or other. " Are we not to
have the pleasure of seeing more of your party ?" perhaps
you ask, when a mamma and one daughter are announced
But if there are no more of them to come, how awkward
for vou and them ! |]3o too it is wise to avoid asking aftei
relations, unless you are quite sure about their existence.
What can the bereaved widower say or look, when in the
excess of your amiability you inquire " How is Mrs.
The master of the house, too, if he is not gone out of
town " on business/' for that night, should be in the
neighboriiv,^ oi his spouse, in order to introduce to her
any of his own recruits. The sons will hang about the
same quarter for the same purpose, but the daughters will
be otherwise occupied. It is their duty to see that the
dances are formed, and a well-bred young lady does not
jlance till she has found partners for all the young ladies
or as many of them as can be supplied from the ranks of
the recruits present. Now and then you will see her dart
anxiously out upon the landing, to press into the service
those languid loungers who are sure to be hanging about
the- doors. She has the right to ask a gentleman to dance
without having a previous acquaintance, but she must be
careful how she uses it. I have known a case where a
distinguished young man having declined her invitation to
dance, but being pressed by " I can't make up the Lancera
without you," somewhat reluctantly accepted, performed
his part so well, that his partner was quite eprise with
him, and even ventured on a little flirtation. Yo*u can
imagine her dismay, when later in the evening she saw her
390 BALLS.
charming acquaintance carrying up a pile of plates from
the kitchen to the supper-room. For the first time in her
life she had danced with an occasional waiter. The genus
wall-flower is one that grows well in every ball-room, but
a young lady, however plain, however stupid, cat, if she
dances well always have some partners. The great thing
is to secure the first, who, on retiring, will say to some of
his friends, "I'll tell you who dances well ; that girl in
pink, Miss A , I advise you to get introduced to her."
The right of introducing rests mainly with the ladies and
gentlemen of the house, but a chaperon may present a
gentleman to her charge ; or if you, being a man, are in-
timate with a young lady, you may ask her permission to
introduce some friend. It is in very bad taste to refuse
this permission, but if a lady has an insuperable objection
to the person in question, she may decline to dance alto-
gether, or refer the applicant to her chaperon. In France,
as I have said, no introduction is needed, though English
young ladies generally expect it even at Frqnch parties.
At any rate, if a gentleman comes up to her and asks her
to dance, she must not reply, as a celebrated English
beauty once did at the Tuileries, " I have not the pleasure
of your acquaintance," by which she acquired the reputa-
tion of very bad breeding.
A young lady must be very careful how she refuses to;
dance with a gentleman. Next to refusing an offer of
marriage, few things are so likely to draw upon her the
indignation of the rejected applicant, for unless a good
reason is given, he is apt to take it as evidence of a per-
sonal dislike./' There is a great deal of polite (?) false-
hood used on these occasions. * ' I am sorry that I am
engaged." " I have a slight headache, and do not intend
BALL-ROOM ETIQUETTE. 891
to dance;" but a lady should never be guilty even of a
conventional lie, and if she replies very politely, asking
to be excused, as she does not wish to dance ( a with you,"
being probably her mental reservation), a man ought to be
satisfied. At all events, he should never press her to
dance after one refusal. The set forms which Turveydrop
would give for the invitation are too much of the deportment
school to be used in practice. If you know a young lady
slightly, it is sufficient to say to her, "May I have the
pleasure of dancing this waltz, &c. with you?" or if in-
timately, " Will you dance, Miss A ?" The young
lady who has refused one gentleman has no right to ac-
cept another for that dance ; and young ladies who do not
wish to be annoyed must take care not to accept two gen-
tlemen for the same dance. In Germany such innocent
blunders often cause fatal results. Two partners arrive at
the same moment to claim the fair one's hand ; she vows
she has not made a mistake ; " was sure she was engaged
to Herr A . and not to Herr B ;" Herr B is equally
certain that she was engaged to him. The awkwardness
is, that if he at once gives her up, he appears to be indif-
ferent about it ; while, if he presses his suit, he must
quarrel with Herr A , unless the damsel is clever enough
to satisfy both of them; and particularly if there is an
especial interest in Herr B , he yields at last, but when
the dance is over, sends a friend to Herr A . Absurd
as all this is, it is common, and I have often seen one Hen
or the other walking about with a huge gash on his cheek,
or his arm in a sling, a few days after a ball.
Friendship, it appears, can be let out on hire. The
lady who was so very amiable to you last night, has a
light to ignore your existence to-day. In fact, a ball-
39-2
BALLS.
room acquaintance rarely goes any fartner, until you have
met at more balls than one. In the same way a man can-
not, after being introduced to a young lady to dance with,
ask her to do so more than twice in the same evening
On the Continent, however intimate, he must never dancp
twice with the same lady, that is, if she be unmarried. '
Mamma would interfere, and ask his intentions if he did
so. In England, a man of sense will select at most one
or two partners, and dance with them alternately the
whole evening. But then he must expect comment there-
upon, and a young lady who does not wish to have her
name coupled with his, will not allow him to single her
out in this manner. However, a man may dance four or
even five times with the same partner without this risk.
On the other hand, a really well-bred man will wish to be
useful, and there are certain people whom it is imperative
on him to ask to dance the (laughters of the house, for
instance, and any young ladies whom he may know inti-
mately ; but most of all the well-bred and amiable man
will sacrifice himself to those plain, ill-dressed, dull -looking
beings who cling to the, wall, unsought and despairing.
After all, he will not regret his good-nature. The spirits
reviving at the unexpected invitation, the wall-flower will
pour out her best conversation, will dance her best, and
will show him her gratitude in some way or other. So,
too, an amiable girl will do her best to find partners for
her wall-flower friends, even at the risk of sitting out
herself.
The formal bow at the end of a quadrille has gradu-
ally dwindled away. At the end of every dance you offer
you right arm to your partner (if by mistake you offer
the left, you may turn the blunder into a pretty compli-
BALL-ROOM MANNERS. 898
ment, "by reminding her that it is le bras du cocur, near-
est the hoart, which if not anatomically true, is at least
no worse than talking of a sunset and sunrise), and
walk half round the room with , her. You then ask her
if she will take any refreshment, and, if she accepts, you
convey your precious allotment of tarlatane to the re-
freshment-room to be invigorated by an ice or negus,
or what you will. It is judicious not to linger toe
long in this room, if you are engaged to some one else
for the next dance. You will have the pleasure of hear-
ing the music begin in the distant ball-room, and of re-
flecting that an expectant fair is sighing for you like
Mariana
*' He cometh not," she said.
She said, " I am a-weary a- weary,
I would I were in bed;"
which is not an unfrequent wish in some ball-rooms. A
well-bred girl, too, will remember this, and always offer
to return to the ball-room, however interesting die con-
versation.
If you are prudent you will not dance every dance
nor, in fact, much more than half the number on the list
you will then escape that hateful redness of face at the
time, and that wearing fatigue the next day which are
among the worst features of a ball. Again, a gentleman
must remember that a ball is essentially a lady's party, /
and in their presence he should be gentle and delicate al- /
most to a fault, never pushing his way, apologizing if he '
tread on a dress, still more so if he tears it, begging par-
don for any accidental annoyance he may occasion, and
addressing everybody with a smile. But quite unpardon-
able are those men whom one sometimes meets, who,
17*
394 BALLS.
standing in a door-way, talk and laugh as they would in
a barrack or college-rooms, always coarsely, often indeli-
cately. What must the .state of their minds be if the
sight of beauty, modesty,, and virtue does not awe them
into silence. A man, too, who strolls down the room
with his head in the air, looking as if there were not a
creature there worth dancing with, is an ill-bred man, so V
is he who looks bored ; and worse than all is he who takes ;
too much champagne.
| If you are dancing with a young lady when the sup-
per-room is opened, you must ask her if she would like
to go to supper, and if she says " yes," which, in 999
cases out of 1000, she certainly will do, you must take
her thither rytf you are not dancing the lady of the house
will probably recruit you to take in some chaperon. How-
ever little you may relish this, you must not show your
disgust. In fact, no man ought to be disgusted at being
able to do anything for a lady ; it should be his highest
privilege, but it is not in these modern unchivalrous
days perhaps never was so. Having placed your part-
ner then at the supperrtable, if there is room there, but
if not at a side-table, or even at none, you must be as ac-
tive as Puck in attending to her wants, and as women
take as long to settle their fancies in edibles as in love-
matters, you had better at once get her something sub-
stantial, chicken, pate defoiegras, mayonnaise, or what
jou will. Afterwards come jelly and trifle in due course.
^t^rK young lady often goes down half-a-dozen times to
the supper-room it is to be hoped not for the purpose
of eating but she should not do so with the same part-
ner more than once. While the lady is supping you
must stand by and talk to her, attending to every want,
PUBLIC BALLS. 305
and the most you may take yourself is a glass oi cham-
pagne when you help her. You then lead her up stairs
again, and if you are not wanted there any more, you
may steal down and do a little quiet refreshment on your
own account. As long, however, as there are many la-
dies still at the table, you have no right to begin. - Noth-
ing marks a man here so much as gorging at supper^
Balls are meant for dancing, not eating, and unfortunately
too many young men forget this in the present day.
Lastly, be careful what you say and how you dance after
supper, even more so than before it. for if you in the
slightest way displease a young lady, she may fancy that
you have been too partial to strong fluids, and ladiea
never forgive that. It would be hard on the lady of the
house if everybody leaving a large ball thought it neces-
sary to wish her good-night. In quitting a small dance,
however, a parting bow is expected. It is then that the
pretty daughter of the house gives you that sweet smile of
which you dream afterwards in a gooseberry nightmare
of " tum-tum-tiddy-tum," and waltzes & domrrtwuips',
and masses of tarlatane and bright eyes, flushed cheeks
and dewy glances. See them to-morrow, my dear fellow,
it will cure yoi^J^t.
I think flirtation comes under the head of morals more
than of manners ; still I may be allowed to say that ball-
room flirtation being more open is less dangerous than any
other. But a young lady of taste will be careful not to
flaunt and publish her flirtation, as if to say, " See, I
have an admirer !" In the same way a prudent man will
never presume on a girl's liveliness or banter. No man
of taste ever made an ofler after supper, and certainly
396
- BALLS.
nine -tenths of those who have done so have regretted i.
at breakfast the next morning.
Public balls are not much frequented by people of good
society, except in watering-places and country towns.
Even there a young lady should not be seen at more than
two or three in the year. County-balls, race-balls, and
hunt-balls, are generally better than common subscrip-
tion-balls. Charity-balls are an abominable anomaly.
At public balls there are generally either three or four
stewards on duty, or a professional master of ceremonies.
These gentlemen having made all the arrangements, order
the dances, and have power to change them if desirable.
They also undertake to present young men to ladies, but
it must be understood that such an introduction is only
available for one dance. It is better taste to ask the
steward to introduce you simply to a partner, than to
point out any lady in particular. He will probably then
ask you if you have a choice, and if not, you may be cer-
tain he will take you to an established wall-flower. Pub-
lic balls are scarcely enjoyable unless you have your own
party.
As the great charm of a ball is its perfect accord and
harmony, all altercations, loud talking, &c., are doubly
ill-mannered in a ball-room. Very little suffices to dis-
turb the peace of the whole company.
CHAPTER XIV.
MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
WHEN all the flower of Greece turned out at thj zry
of the Argive King, manned their heavy triremes and
sailed away to Tenedos, do you imagine that one-fiftieth part
of their number cared as much as a shield-strap for that
lady of the white arms but black reputation, whom the
handsomest man of his day had persuaded to "fly beyond
her fate's control ;" do you believe it was for fair false
Helen that they resolved to sack Troy ? Not a bit of it,
it was only an excuse for " making a party." So, too,
it was only for the party and the fun that all those hel-
meted, scarved, iron-cased knights, most preux and gal-
lant, quitted the bowers of their lady-loves (which, to
say truth, must have been rather dull in days when there
were no cheap novels, no pianos, no crochet, no chess, no
backgammon, and no newspapers to talk about), and
trotted off to Palestine, determined to return with the
scalp of a Saladin. Why, if you were to examine the con-
sciences of nine-tenths of those same chivalrous gentlemen,
you would find the motive probably made up of the fol-
lowing ingredients in the following proportions :
Religion, - -
Hatred of Turks, 2
The wish of my lady-love, 3
Because it's the fashion, - 4
Love of bloodshed, 6
For the sake of the party, 15
(397)
898 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
In other words, all the other motives together would
not outbalance that prime consideration.
People will make a party for anything. " Make a
party to see the sun set;" " make a party to take a
walk ;" " make a party to hear the nightingale ;" " make
a party to go to tdmrch ;" " make a party to go nowhere
near-ichurch, but to Hampstead Heath instead;" "make
a party to ride a donkey ;" " make a party to play at a
new game ;" " make a party to do nothing at all." There
are people very good people they think themselves too
who cannot even read their bibles without a party, and
the very people who rail at balls and parties, and amuse-
ment of any kind, will most zmostentatiously make a
party to see them give away a hundred cups of tea or
fifty pinafores, which act then goes in the world by the
name of "charity." I don't think the Pharisees were
quite so bad as this, because if they did do their good
deeds in public, they did not make a party to come and
see them, unless indeed the sounding of a trumpet was
the Hebrew way of sending out invitations.
However, this is not my present business. The system
of gathering a little assembly to join in every pleasure,
as long as it is free from ostentation and cant, only shows
what sociable and sympathetic beings we are. For the
real objects of these parties are not, believe me-, the sun-
set, the walk, the nightingale's service, the donkey, the
new game, and the dispensing of pinafores, but the enter-
tainment of one another's society, so that all parties having
the same ultimate aim may be governed by the same laws.
I have made an exception for dinner and dances, because
with many people the food and the waltz are the sole ob-
ject. But in most other cases the excuse given for the
MAKING A PARTY. 399
gathering is precisely the kind of thing which could ho
enjoyed much more in solitude, or, at most, with one
sympathetic companion. Take a pic-nic as an instance.
We go miles, at a considerable outlay may be, only to en-
joy some beautiful view, or to wander in some ancient
ruin. Does the small gossip of the pic-nic aid us in the
enjoyment of the former, or its noisy prattle hallow rath-
er than disturb the memories of the past that haunt the
latter ?
. So then the main difference in all kinds of parties lies
in the selection of the guests, the dress they wear, and
the peculiar tone of the conversation. Another great
distinction lies, too, between town and country parties.
Let us then divide parties under these two general heads.
Town-parties consist in conversaziones, private concerts,
private theatricals, tea-parties, and matinees.
The first, which also go by the names of Receptions
and " At Homes," have, for principal object conversation
only, so that in the selection of guests youth and beauty
are less considered than talent, distinction, and fashion.
An Indian prince, a great nobleman, a distinguished
foreigner, or a celebrated statesman, are considered valua-
ble attractions, but it must be a consolation to the lion-
huntress to feel that if the presence of these curiosities
increases the reputation of her assemblies, they do by no
means add to. but rather diminish the general ease of the
conversation. On the other hand, to assemble as many
persons distinguished for talents or achievements as possi-
ble, must necessarily give them brilliance ; and, as I have
said, the great behave better in the presence of rivals and
compeers than where they are chief planets. The invi-
tations should Vie sent out from a week to a fortnight
400 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
beforehand. Tea must be served in a separate room, to
which the guests are first conducted, and ices handed
at short intervals throughout the evening. Sometimes
in smaller receptions a supper is served, but this is by
no means common, as from these meetings the ladies
generally repair to a ball. The hour for meeting is be-
tween nine and ten, and the party breaks up before one
in the morning. The lady and gentleman of the house
both receive the guests, somewhere near the door of the
principal room ; or if the reception is a small one, the
lady joins in the conversation, and comes forward when ,a
guest is announced. Two or three rooms must be thrown
open, curiosities, good engravings, handsome books, rare
miniatures, old china, photographs, stereoscopes, and so
forth, laid out gracefully on the tables, and a liberal sup-
ply of ottomans, dos d dos, and sofas placed about in con-
venient positions, not, however, so as to impede a general
movement about the rooms. In the larger receptions
gentlemen should not sit down, and, above all, not linger
close to the door, but come forward and talk sense not
ball-room chit-chat to such people as they happen to
know. Introductions are not here the order of the day,
as they must be in balls, but the lady of the house will
take care to introduce gentlemen to such ladies as seem
to have none to talk to. On the other hand, strangers
who enter your set for the first time must receive the
greatest attention the greater the stranger the greater
the guest and must be introduced to the principal peo-
ple. The lady must take care to create circulation, and
the guests themselves should not be pinioned to one spot
or one chair.
The place occupied by music in these parties is a verj
MUSIC. 401
ridiculous one, because it is got up only to make a noise,
and prevent people being frightened, like Robinson Crusoe,
at the sound of their own voices. Sometimes a profes-
sional musician or two is introduced ; sometimes youn<
ladies are called upon to murder Italian or mouth out
German; sometimes not very often there is some
charming amateur singing, but unless the professionals
are very great favorites, or the young ladies have very
fine voices, or the guests rarer still can appreciate
good melodious speaking music, the touch of the first
notes is the signal for every one to find their ideas and
their tongues. So far it must be confessed that the mu-
sic inspires them, and the people who were stupidest be-
fore, suddenly shine out quite brilliantly ; but it is cu-
rious that while the first two chords, can effect this, the
remainder, good or bad, is drowned and talked down in
the most ungrateful manner. Nothing can be worse bred
than this ; and, therefore, in really good society, you will
find that people know when to use their tongues and when
their ears. As to the etiquette of music, it is the sole
privilege of the lady of the house to ask a guest to sing
or play ; and when he or she can do so they will, if well
brevl, at once consent, without any palaver. A young
lady must be led poor victim to the piano by some
gentleman near at hand, who then offers to fetch her mu-
eic for her ; and there is one hint which I will venture to
give to young ladies when they have get their music, and
have quickly chosen their song or piece : never wait till
the company is silent, do not go on playing introductory
bars, and looking round as if you expected them to stop
talking, for on the one hand, you will seldom succeed in
making them do so j on the other, those who notice you
102 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
will think you are vain of your talents. Make up your
mind that you are to sing only for the sake of the con-
versation, and be consoled that those who can appreciate
your singing will draw near and listen. The gentleman
who has conducted you to the piano now stays to turn
over your pages for you ; take care that he is able to fol-
low you, or give him a sign at the proper moment, other-
wise he will be turning too soon, and bring you both into
terrible confusion. The best way of giving receptions,
which cost very little, is to fix on some day of the week,
and repeat them every time it comes round. You then
issue invitations to a very- much larger number than your
rooms will hold and for the whole course of receptions,
so that your friends can choose the weeks most convenient
to them. If at the first party you should only have a
dozen guests, do not be disheartened. If your rooms are
well lit up and well arranged, and yourself agreeable,
they will be filled to excess before the middle of the
season'.
Private concerts and amateur theatricals ought to be
very good to be successful. Professionals alone should
be engaged for the former, none but real amateurs for the
latter. Both ought to be, but rarely are. followed by a
supper, since they are generally very fatiguing, if not
positively trying. In any case, refreshments and ices
should be handed between the songs and the acts. Pri-
vate concerts are often given in the " morning," that is,
from two to six p. M. ; in the evening their hours are
from eight to eleven. The rooms should be arranged in
the same manner as for a reception, the guests should be
seated, and as music is the avowed object, a general
silence preserved while it lasts. Between the songs tho
TEA-PAKTIES. 403
eoi.versaoion ebbs back again, and the party takes the
general form of a reception. For private theatricals,
however, where there is no special theatre, and where the
curtain is hung, as is most common, betAvcen the foldiug-
doors, the audience-room must be filled with chairs and
benches in rows, and, if possible, the back rows raised
higher than the others. These are often removed when
the performance is over, and the guests then converse, or
sometimes even dance. During the acting it is rude to
talk, except in a very low tone, and, be it good or bad,
you would never think of hissing.
The tea-party is a much more sociable affair, and may
vary in the number of guests from ten to thirty. The
lighting is by ordinary lamps and candles ; two rooms suf-
fice, and tea should be either handed or set out on a side-
table in one of them. The guests should be chiefly of
one set, and known to one another ; but if they are not so,
they must be generally introduced. The ladies all sit
down, and so may the gentlemen if they like, which they
are, poor things, almost forbidden to do at receptions.
The entertainment consists mostly of music and singing,
by ladies and gentlemen present ; but sometimes a few
round games are got up for the torture of old bachelors
like myself. If the singing is good, a tea-fight may be a
pleasant thing, especially for curates and old maids ; but
in London it does not come, under the head of l ' gaieties,"
and therefore the invitations to it must be given only a day
or two before, either by word of mouth or a friendly note.
The matinee requires three things to make it success-
ful, good grounds, a good band, and good weather. Money
can command the first two, but, as we hove no check over
the clerk of the weather, matinees are AS well left alone
404 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
in towns, where people will dress exorbitantly for every-
thing of this kind. However, if well arranged, and under
propitious skies, a matinee is a very good thing for Urba-
nus, who loves sunshine, flowers, and gay toilets. The
company should be very numerous, comprising all the best
dressed people you know, for dress is everything on these
occasions. In addition to a good brass-band, you would
do well to obtain the services of a glee club to sing in the
open air between the instrumental pieces ; but then a ma-
tinee becomes a very expensive entertainment, and so, in
fact, it must be. You invite your guests for one o'clock,
they arrive at two. and disperse in time to dress for dinner'.
They content themselves with walking about, listening to
the music, and taking refreshments, or if you give it them,
a lunch, in the large marquee, which, of course, you have
had erected on the lawn. You have no trouble with your
guests, and never dream of introducing them ; you bring
them together under propitious circumstances, and they
must amuse themselves. In matinees abroad they often
dance. They are there very fashionable and much liked.
In these open-air parties, in large towns and their neigh-
borhood, people who do not know one another remain in
that condition ; they are rarely, if ever, introduced, and
they never dream of speaking to one another without an
introduction. Very different, and much more sensible, is
the foreign custom.
For these town-parties, there are one or two general
rules : The hostess should not be too empress^ nor bust-
ling in her welcome, she should receive every one alike
with amiable dignity, and above all, if she expects a lion
or a grandee, should dismiss him from her thoughts till
he comes, and then make no difference in Uis reception tc
COUNTRY-PAAHES. 405
that of the other guests. If she does make a distinction,
the latter will smile cynically at her toadyism, and con-
trast their own reception with that of " the favored guest."
To make up for this restraint on her enthusiasm, she is
not obliged to know much about the domestic affairs of
her guests. In good company of this kind, the babies and
nurserymaids, the son at the Cape, and the daughter in
India, are forgotten for the time, or reserved for the smaller
tea-party. In the conversazioni and receptions, you will
hear none but public subjects, every one's property
brought on the tapis. This knot you take for statesmen,
for as you pass, each one of them is prophesying, with a
shrewd look, what next step the Emperor will take. No,
sir, they are simply fathers of families. Here you are cer-
tain you have lighted on a batch of critics, male and
female ; could ever any one else show such venom in the
liscussion of the last celebrated book ? Nothing of the
kind ; critics are doves in company, and these are only
educated men, with as little actual connexion with litera-
ture as a sailor on the mizenyard. Then these men who
are scientifically discussing some recent discovery, and
hanging profoundly over the fate of some engineering en-
terprise, are merely thinkers, by no means professional ;
while those who talk of Lord John as an intimate chum,
and Pam. as a man they could clap on the shoulder, are
not M. P.'s, but only club-loungers. Even the gossip
takes a public character, and the scandal is about people
known to the whole world of fashion. Then, again, the
manner of the guests is calm and easy ; there is no neces-
sity to create mirth, the laughter is quiet, even the wit ia
received with a smile, and discussions are carried on with
interest but not with excitement. All the company too
406 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
is for the time on an equality, and it is bad taste to recog-
nize a man's rank in a marked manner. Precedence ia
best Jaid aside, and the curate may, if he likes, pass out
of -the room before the bishop. In short, the reception is
a kind of evening lounge.
Very different is the character of country-parties. If
they are more sociable and friendly, because almost every-
body is known to one another, if there is less formality
and display about them, there is also less equality. If
it is not necessary to light your rooms brilliantly, and
secure the services of professional singers, in short, to
supply some particular attraction, it is incumbent to bo\r
to the local position held by each guest. Not indeed that
this is good style, but that it is expected by people who
very often have little more than their position to recom-
mend them. The deputy-lieutenant may be a much duller
man than the small squire, but in his own county he would
take it very ill if you did not show him more attention
than to the other. The vicar may. and often is far less
agreeable than the curate, but the latter would never
dream of making a move to go before the stately incum-
bent had risen. Then, too, the conversation always verges
on local and rural topics. The two squires talk of crops,
game, boundaries, and magisterial questions, and find them
fur more interesting than the fate of Europe. Their wives
discuss the flower-show, the hunt-ball, the return of some
family to the neighborhood. The young people get a step
farther in year-long flirtations, and discuss with more or
less acerbity the engagements of their mutual friends. In
short, people, rather than things, are the themes of inter-
est, and a stranger in a country-party finds himself almost
a foreigner in the land. And woe to him if he does riot
TENDER GROUND. 407
know by what title your nearest pack jf hounds is called,
or is ignorant of the noble sport of hunting, for, heavy-
headed after their huge dinners, he will find most of the
gentlemen unable to exert their brains farther than to re-
call " that splendid run," or speculate on whether the
next " master" will be a light or a heavy weight.
However, in country-parties, the strangers in the land
receive as a rule the greatest attention, and if you, coming
from town, find the company heavy, and the conversation
narrow, you will at least have the consolation of infusing
new spirit into, and quickening the movement, of clogged
brains.
Country-parties consist chiefly of small dances which
are not balls ; tea-parties ; private fetes, which are much
the same as the matin A es already described; and pic-nics.
Sociability and easy mirth is the main feature in all of
them. As you are among people whom you know for the
most part, you may be more familiar in your general
manners, and to be agreeable, you are expected to be merry,
humorous, and ready for anything that may be proposed.
On the other hand, as prejudices are always greater in
proportion to the narrowness of the mind, and are some-
times especially deep-rooted in the squires and clergymen
whom you meet in these gatherings, you must be very
careful how you approach the topics which most interest
them. I have known a whole party, at one moment full
of merriment and laughter, suddenly cast into the deepest
gloom of horror and dismay, by the innocent allusion of a
stranger to " M. B." waistcoats, the rector who was
present being high-church. On the same principle it is
wise to avoid speaking much of the church itself, the
schools, the dispensary, the preserves, the poor, and sc
408 MORNINGL AND EVENING PARTIES.
forth, of the village, as country people are somewhat
given to making these subjects matters for serious differ-
ence, and it is a rare case for the squire and the clergy-
man to be perfectly agreed on all points where their sup-j
posed rights can possibly clash. I have known a village
divided into a deadly feud for ten years by nothing but
the pews in the church one party wishing to keep them,
and another to pull them down ; land, though these re-
ligious-minded people met perhaps once a month at vari-
ous tea-parties and dinners, the church was never spoken
of, and a stranger who might have unconsciously mention-
id the pews therein, would have thrown in a firebrand
jvhich would have lit up the whole parish.
On entering a country party, you at once seek out the
lady of the house, and shake hands with her. The same
process is then performed with those members of the
family whom you know, and any other of your acquain-
tance present. In taking leave the same process is repeat-
ed, and a simple bow would generally be considered as an
impoliteness. The invitations to these parties partake of
the same sociable character, and are made by friendly,
notes sent a few days beforehand, or even on the very day
itself. You have not the same liberty of declining them
as in town, nor can you have recourse to the polite formu-
la of a " previous engagement, since everybody knows
what is going on in the neighborhood, and who is to be
at any party. You must therefore find a good excuse or
go. For my part, I think we should be better Chris-
tians, and just as friendly, if we stated our real reasons :
" I regret that I have not the time to spare," " I do not
feel inclined for society," or, "I have no dress for the
occasion. 1 ' Such replies might create a little surprise
IN THE COUNTRY. 409
but people must admire their candor, and everybody could
sympathize with the writer's feefings. At any rate, you
must avoid a sneer such as that given by a too candid la-
dy to a clergyman's wife who had invited her to a quiet
little discussion of muffins on Shrove Tuesday. " I re-
gret," she wrote, " that I shall be unable to accept jour
invitation, as the near approach of Lent would preclude
niy joining in any festivities."
Country hours, again, are much earlier than those in
town. Except at great houses, where the dinner hour is
seven, eight o'clock is the usual time for a tea-party to
begin, and before twelve the last guest departs. It is ne-
cessary to be punctual in the country, whatever you may
be in town ; and it would be considered as an unwarrant-
able assumption of fashion to arrive an hour after the
time stated in the invitation.
Tea is handed in the drawing-room, or, if the party be
a small one, so arranged that all may sit round. In the
latter case the tea-table must be plenteously spread with
cakes, fruit, &c. &c. Appetites flourish in the free air
of hills and meadows, and as a rule, country parties have
more of the feeding system about them than those of town.
Thus, unless dinner has been at a late hour, it is usual to
have a supper laid out, or at least sandwiches, jellies, and
trifle at a side-table. This, I must say, is a more agreea-
ble feature of country entertainments than that of round
games. At these, however, you must not look bored ;
you must really for the time believe yourself a child
again, allow yourself to be amused, and enter heart and
soul into it. Endeavor by every means in your power
to add to the general hilarity ; talk without restraint, en-
ter into innocent rivalry with the young ladies ; or, if
18
410 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.
one of them yourself, challenge the most youthful, espe-
cially the shy, of the other sex. You must find some-
thing to laugh at in the merest trifle, but never roar or
shriek. Never claim your winnings, but if they are
offered you must take them, except from a young lady,
and from her on no consideration.
While we are melting here under the dog-star, and
crushing up crowded staircases, and into ovens of rooms
in the tightest dress that is worn, our country cousins are
really enjoyiug themselves. They are now having tea
out on the lawn, with bona fide cream to it too, none of
our miserable delusions of calves' brains (beautiful satire
on those who credulously swallow them) or chalk and
water." Then when tea is done, they are positively going
to dance here on the lawn, or there in that large empty
out-house, resolved that nothing shall induce them to go
into that house again till night ; and if they do not dance,
they bring out every chair that is in it, and sitting round,
play at hunt-the-ring, post, turning the trencher, or Blind
Man's Buff. What dear children they are ! how pleasant
to see the old gentlemen dragged in by the young girls.
and made to play nolentes volentes ! how charming the
laughter of these merry maidens, and the playful flirta-
tion of the sturdy youths, who all day long have been
carrying a gun or breaking a new horse in ! Well, well 5
if there is beauty enough to make us bless the excitement
which brings the color to some lovely cheek. if the
young men can really help looking bored, and the old
oneo sham delight (as we old ones can. let me tell you,
sir), why, then, these out-door gaieties may be fresh and
reviving and cheering to us dusty, withered, smoke-dried
townsmen. But then where is conversation ? Swamped
PTC-NICS. 411
in badinage which, if I am not a young lover, 1 cannot
possibly pump up. And where is that flow of thought
and diversity of imagination which makes one hour with
a clever man or z'femme cC esprit worth twenty-four in
the presence of a mere beauty and animal spirits ? Not
there.
So, then, they are matters of taste, these little parties,
but not so the etiquette they require. You must be gay,
you must laugh and chuckle and all that, but you must
not overdo it ; you must not let your merriment carry you
away. In out-door games especially, you must be careful
not to romp, not to rush and tear about, nor be boister-
ously merry. It may be difficult to steer between the
Scylla of dullness and the Charybdis of romping, but you
must always remember what dear fragile things the ladies
are, and treat them tenderly. These games are, in fact,
a severe test of politeness, grace, and delicacy, and if I
wanted to discover your title to the name of gentleman
or lady, I should set you to play at post or hunt-the-ring,
or what not of child's sport.
Lastly, as to pic-nics, they are no longer the cheery
gatherings of other days, when each person brought his
quantum, and when on opening the baskets there were
found to be three pigeon-pies but no bread, four contribu-
tions of mustard but no salt, dozens of wine but no beer,
and so on. The only thing you are asked to bring in the
present day is your very best spirits ; and everybody is
expected to contribute these, for you cannot have too
much of them. A castle, a church, -or something to see
about which to create an interest, is necessary to a suc-
cessful pic-nic, much more so than champagne, which it
is perhaps safer not to have, though it is always expected
412 MORNING AND EVENINJ PARTIES.
Servants ought, if possible, to be dispensed with, and a
free flow of the easiest merriment, not free in itself, it
will be understood, should be allowed and encouraged.
The collation, cold of course, is generally the first ob-
ject after arriving at the rendezvous. It is of necessity
somewhat rough, for these same pic-nics are the happy
occasions when people try to forget that they are highly
civilized, but are scarcely ever allowed to do so. How-
ever, nothing is more justly ridiculous than that people
who come out to play the rustic should be accompanied by
a bevy of Mercuries, and that while we attempt to imitate
the simplicity of rural dryad life, spreading our viands
beneath the shady trees, we should have some half-dozen
stately acolytes of fashion moving about us with all the
solemnity of a London dinner-party. The servants then
should be driven away a force cFarmes, and the gentle-
men take their place. Then see how immensely it in-
creases the general hilarity to watch Fitzboots of the
Muffineers sent about by the pretty misses, made of use
for the first time in his life, and with his hands so full
that he cannot even stroke out his splendid whiskers.
Certainly the barriers of society ought to be broken
3own on these occasions. Everybody should be perfectly
at his ease, and if the people are really well-bred, the
liberty thus given will not be the least abused. A man
who drinks too much champagne, or a young lady who
ot rolls away for a couple of hours with a young man
among the ruins or in the wood, should scarcely be asked
to join a second pic-nic. Then, too, free as they are, gay,
laughing, and careless, they should not descend to noisy
romping. There ought to be a fair sprinkling of chape
rons and elderly people, not to damp the gaiety but tc
PIC-NICS. 413
restrain the carelessness of the younger ones. After all
let youth be youth, and let it have its fling. If it be
really innocent and well brought up, Miss Etiquette, prim
old maid, will have nothing to say ; if otherwise, then she
may preach in vain at a carnival. If our spirits are
good (and I feel quite young again in talking of these
things) let us enjoy them to the fullest, and be as silly
and as wild as the youngest. Never shoot a skylark
while soaring ; never curb young mirth in its proper en
joyDient.
CHAPTER XV.
MARRIAGE.
AT a time when our feelings are or ought to be most sus-
ceptible, when the happiness or misery of a condition in
which there is no medium begins, we are surrounded with
forms and etiquettes which rise before the unwary like
spectres, and which even the most rigid ceremonialists
regard with a sort of dread.
Were it not, however, for these forms, and for this
necessity of being en regie, there might, on the solemni-
zation of marriage, be confusion, forgetfulness, and even
speak it not aloud irritation among the parties most in-
timately concerned. Excitement might ruin all. With-
out a definite programme, the old maids of the family
would be thrusting in advice. The aged chronicler of
past events, or grandmother by the fireside, would have
it all her way ; the venerable bachelor in tights, with his
blue coat and metal buttons, might throw everything into
confusion by his suggestions. It is well that we are in-
dependent of all these interfering advisers ; that there is
no necessity to appeal to them. Precedent has arranged
it all ; we have only to put in or understand what that
stern authority has laid down ; how it has been varied by
modern changes ; and we must just shape our courso
boldly. " Boldly?" But there is much to be done be-
fore we come to that. First, there is the offer to be
PRELIMINARIES. 415
made. Well may a man who contemplates such a step
say to himself, with Dry den,
" These are the realms of everlasting fate ;'*
for ; in truth, on marriage one's wellbeing not only her
but even hereafter mainly depends. But it is not on this
bearing of the subject that we wish to enter, contenting
ourselves with a quotation from the Spectator :
" It requires more virtues to make a good husband or
wife, than what go to the finishing any the most shining
character whatsoever."
England is distinguished from most of the continental
countries by the system of forming engagements, and the
mode in which they are carried on until terminated by
marriage.
In France, an engagement is an aifair of negotiation
and business : and the system in this respect greatly re-
sembles the practice in England, on similar occasions, a
hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, or even la-
ter. France is the most unchanging country in the world
in her habits and domestic institutions, and foremost
among these is her " Marriage de convenance" or
"Marriage de raison"
It is thus brought about. So soon as a young girl
quits the school or convent where she has been educated,
her friends cast about for a suitable parti. Most parents
in France take^care, so soon as a daughter is born, to
put aside a sum of money for her " dot," as they well
know that whatever may be her attractions, that is indis-
pensable in order to be married. They are ever on the
look out for a youth with at least an equal fortune, or
aiore : or, if they are rich, for title, which is deemed
MARRIAGE.
tantamount to fortune ; even the power of writing those
two little letters De before your name has some value in
the marriage contract. Having satisfied themselves they
thus address the young lady : ' ' It is now time for you
to be married ; I know of an eligible match ; you can see
the gentleman, either at such a ball or (if he is serious)"*
at church. I do not ask you to take him if his appear-
ance is positively disagreeable to you ; if so. we will look
out for some one else."
As a matter of custom, the young lady answers that the
will of her parents is hers ; she consents to take a survey
of him to whom her destiny is to be entrusted ; and let
us presume that he is accepted, though it does not follow,
and sometimes it takes several months to look out, as it
does for other matters, a house, or a place, or a pair of
horses. However, she consents ; a formal introduction
takes place ; the promis calls in full dress to see his fu-
ture wife ; they are only just to speak to each other, and
those few unmeaning words are spoken in the presence of
the bride-elect's mother; for the French thirik it most
indiscreet to allow the affections of a girl to be interested
before marriage, lest during the arrangements for the
contract all should be broken off. If she has no dislike,
it is enough ; never for an instant are the engaged couple
left alone, and in very few cases do they go up to the altar
with more than a few weeks' acquaintance, and usually
with less. The whole matter is then arranged by nota-
ries, who squabble over the marriage-contract, and get all
they can for their clients.
The contract is usually signed in France on the day
before the marriage, when all is considered safe ; the reli-
gious portion of their bond takes place in the church, and
THE PROPOSAL. 417
then the two young creatures are left together to under-
stand each other if they can, and to love each other if
they will ; if not they must content themselves with what
is termed, un menage de Paris.
In England formerly much the same system prevailed.
A boy of fourteen, before going on his travels, was con-
tracted to a girl of eleven, selected as his future wife by
parents or guardians ; he came back after the grande
tour to fulfil the engagement. But by law it was imper-
ative that forty days should at least pass between the
contract and the marriage ; during which dreary interval
the couple, leashed together like two young greyhounds,
would have time to think of the future. In France, the
perilous period of reflection is not allowed. " I really am
so glad we are to take a journey," said a young French
lady to her friends ; " I shall thus get to know something
about my husband; he is quite a stranger to me." Some
striking instances of the Marriage de convenance being
infringed on, have lately occurred in France. The late
Monsieur de Tocqueville maried for love, after a five
years' engagement. Guizot, probably influenced by his
acquaintance with England, gave his daughters liberty to
choose for themselves, and they married for love* " a
very indelicate proceeding," remarked a French com-
tesse of the old regime, when speaking of this arrange-
ment.
Nothing can be more opposed to all this than our Eng-
lish system. We are so tenacious of the freedom of choice,
that even persuasion is thought criminal.
In France negotiations are often commenced on the la-
* Two brothers, named De Witte.
18*
418 MARRIAGE.
dy's side ; in England, never. Even too
manner, even the ordinary attentions of civility, are occa
sionally a matter of reproach. We English are jealous
of the delicacy of that sacred bond, which we presume to
hope is to spring out of mutual affection. It is not heie
our province to inquire what are the causes that have so
sullied the marriage tie in England ; what are the reasons
that it seldom holds out all that it promises : we have only
to treat of the rules and etiquettes which preface the
union. A gentleman who, from whatever motives, has
made up his mind to marry, may set about it in two ways.
He may propose by letter or in words. The customs of
English society imply the necessity of a sufficient know-
ledge of the lady to be addressed. This, even in this
country, is a difficult point to be attained ; and, after all,
cannot be calculated by time, since, in large cities, you
may know people a year, and yet be comparative stran-
gers ; and, meeting them in the country, may become in-
timate in a week.
Having made up his mind, the gentleman offers wisely,
if he can. in speech. - Letters are seldom expressive of
what really passes in the mind of man ; or, if expressive,
seem foolish, since deep feelings are liable to exaggeration.
Every written word may be the theme of cavil. Study,
care, which avail in every other species of composition,
are death to the lever's effusion. A few sentences, spoken
in earnest, and broken by emotion, are more eloquent than
pages of sentiment, both to parent and daughter. Let
him, however, speak and be accepted. He is in that case
instantly taken into the intimacy of his adopted relatives.
Such is the notion of English honor, that the engaged
couple are henceforth allowed to be frequently alone to-
THE ENGAGEMENT. 419
gether, in walking and at homo If there be no known
obstacle to the engagement, the gentlemen and lady are
mutually introduced to the respective relatives of each.
It is for the gentleman's family to call first ; for him to
make the first present ; and this should be done as soon aa
possible after the offer has been accepted. It is a sort of
seal put upon the affair. The absence of presents is
thought to imply want of earnestness in the matter. This
present generally consists of some personal ornament, say,
a ring, and should be handsome, but not so handsome as
that made for the wedding-day. During the period that
elapses before the marriage, the betrothed man should
conduct himself with peculiar deference to the lady's
family and friends, even if beneath his own station. It
is often said : " I marry such a lady, but I do not mean
to marry her whole family." This disrespectful pleasant-
ry has something in it so cold, so selfish, that even if
the lady's family be disagreeable, there is a total absence
of delicate feeling to her in thus speaking of those near-
est to her. To her parents especially, the conduct of
the betrothed man should be respectful ; to her sisters
kind, without familiarity ; to her brothers, every evidence
of good- will should be testified. In making every provi-
sion for the future, in regard to settlements, allowance for
dress, &c., the extent of ' liberality convenient should be
the spirit of all arrangements. Perfect candor as to his
own affairs, respectful consideration for those of the fami-
ly he is about to enter, mark a true gentleman.
In France, however gay and even blameable a man may
have been before his betrothal, he conducts himself with
the utmost propriety after that event. A sense, of what
is due to a lady should repress all habits unpleasant to
120 MARltlAGE.
her : smoking, if disagreeable ; frequenting places of
amusement without her ; or paying attention to othei
women. In this respect, indeed, the sense of honor should
lead a man to be as scrupulous when his future wife ia
absent as when she is present, if not more so. These
rules of conduct apply in some respects to ladies also.
Nothing is so disgusting or unpromising for the future as
the flirtations which engaged young ladies permit them-
selves to carry on after they have pledged themselves to
one person alone. This display of bad taste and vanity
often leads to serious unhappiness, and the impropriety,
if not folly, should be strongly pointed out to the young
lady herself.
The attitude assumed by a flirt is often the impulse of
folly more than of boldness. It is agreeable to her vanity,
she finds, to excite jealousy, and to show her power. Even
if the rash and transient triumph produce no lasting ef-
fect on the peace of mind before marriage, it is often re-
called with bitterness after marriage by him who was then
a slave, but is now a master.
In equally bad taste- is exclusiveness. The devotions
of two engaged persons should be reserved for the tete-d
tete, and women are generally in fault when it is other-
wise. They like to exhibit their conquest ; they cannot
dispense with attentions ; they forget that the demonstra-
tion of any peculiar condition of things in society must
make some one uncomfortable ; the young lady is un-
comfortable because she is not equally happy ; the young
man detests what he calls nonsense ; the old think there
is a time for all things. All sitting apart, therefore, and
peculiar displays, are in bad taste ; I am inclined to think
that they often accompany insincerity, and that the truest
PECUNIARY MATTERS. 421
affections are those which are reserved for the genuine
md heartfelt intimacy of private interviews. At the same
v ime, the airs of indifference and avoidance should be
equally guarded against ; since, however strong a mutual
attachment may be, such a line of conduct is apt need-
lessly to mislead others, and so produce mischief. True
ieeling, and a ladylike consideration for others, a point in
which the present generation essentially fails, are the best
guides for steering between the extremes of demonstra-
tion on the one hand, and of frigidity on the other.
During the arrangement of pecuniary matters, a young
lady should endeavor to understand what is going on, re-
ceiving it in a right spirit. If she has fortune, she
should, in all points left to her, be generous and confiding,
at the same time prudent. Many a man, she should re-
member, may abound in excellent qualities, and yet be
improvident. He may mean to do well, yet have a pas-
sion for building ; he may be the very soul of good na-
ture, yet fond of the gaming-table ; he may have no
wrong propensities of that sort, and yet have a confused
notion of accounts, and be one of those men who muddle
away a great deal of money no one knows how ; or he
may be a too strict economist, a man who takes too good
care c- f the pence, till he tires your very life out about an
extra, ejueenVhead ; or he may be facile or weakly good-
natured, and have a friend who preys on him, and for
whom he is disposed to become security. Finally, the
beloved Charles, Henry, or Reginald may have none of
these propensities, but ^uiy chance to be an honest mer-
chant, or a tradesman, with all his foaling capital in
business, and a consequent risk cf bc.n^ ^nb da^ tich, the
next a pauper.
422
MARRIAGE.
Upon every account, therefore, it is desirable for a
young lady to have a settlement on her ; and she should
not, from a weak spirit of romance, oppose her friends
who advise it, since it is for her husband's advantage as
well as her own. By making a settlement there :s always
a fund which cannot be touched a something, however
small, as a provision for a wife and children ; and whether
she have fortune or not, this ought to be made. An al-
lowance for dress should also be arranged ; and this should
be administered in such a way that a wife should not have
to ask for it at inconvenient hours, and thus irritate her
husband.
Every preliminary being settled, there remains nothing
except to fix the marriage day, a point always left to the
lady to advance ; and next to settle how the ceremonial is
to be performed is the subject of consideration.
Marriage by banns is .confined to the poorer classes ; and
a license is generally obtained by those who aspire to the
" habits of good society." It is within the recollection of
many, even middle-aged persons, that the higher classes
were, some twenty years ago, married only by special
license a process costing about 50 instead of ,5; and
therefore supposed by our commercial country especially to
denote good society. Special licenses have, however, be-
come unfashionable. They were obtained chiefly on ac-
count of their enabling persons to be married at any hour,
whereas the canon prescribes the forenoon ; after mid-day
it is illegal to celebrate a marriage. In some instances,
duiing the Crimean war, special licenses were resorted to
to unite couples when the bridegroom-elect had been
ordered off, and felt, with his bride, that it were happier
for both to belong to each other even in death. But the
THE LICENSE AND THE TROUSSEAU. 423
ordinary couples walk up to the altars of their respective
parish churches.
It is to be lamented that previously to so solemn a cer-
emony, the thoughts of the lady concerned must neces-
sarily be engaged for some time upon her trousseau. The
trousseau consists, in this country, of all the habiliments
necessary for a lady's use for the first two or three years
of her married life ; like every other outfit there are al-
ways a number of articles introduced into it that are next
to useless, and are only calculated for the vain-glory of
the ostentatious. A trousseau may, in quiet life, be form-
ed upon so low a sum as 60 or 70; it seldom costs,
however, less than 100, and often mounts up to 500.
By which useless extravagance a mass of things that soon
cease to be fashionable, or that wear out from being laid
by, is accumulated.
The trousseau being completed, and the day fixed, it
becomes necessary to select the bridesmaids and the bride-
groom's man, and to invite the guests.
The bridesmaids are from two to eight in number. It
is ridiculous to have many, as the real intention of the
bridesmaid is, that she should act as a witness of the mar-
riage. It is, however, thought a compliment to include
the bride's sisters and those of the bridegroom's relations
and intimate friends, in case sisters do not exist.
When a bride is young the bridesmaids should be young ;
but it is absurd to see a " single woman of a certain age,' ;
or a widow, surrounded by blooming girls, making her look
plain and foolish. For them the discreet woman of thirty-
five is more suitable as a bridesmaid. Custom decides
that the bridesmaids should be spinsters, but there is no
legal objection to a married woman being a bridesmaid
124
MARRIAGE.
should it be necessary, as it might be abroad, or at sea. or
where ladies are few in number. Great care should b
taken not to give offence in the choice of bridesmaids bj
a preference, which is always in bad taste on mornentou?
occasions.
The guests at the wedding should be selected with sim-
ilar attention to what is right and kind, with consideration
to those who have a claim on us, not only to what we
ourselves prefer.
In London, for a great wedding breakfast, it is custom-
ary to send out printed cards from the parents or guar-
dians from whose house the young lady is to be married.
Early in the day, before eleven, the bride should be
dressed, taking breakfast in her own room. In England
we load a bride with lace flounces on a rich silk, and even
sometimes with ornaments. In France it is always re-
membered, with better taste, that when a young lady goes
up to the altar, she is " encore jeune fillc ;" her dress,
therefore, is exquisitely simple ; a dress of tulle over white
silk, a long wide veil of white tulle, going down to the
very feet, a wreath of maiden-blush-roses interspersed
with orange flowers. This is the usual costume of a
French bride of rank, or in the middle classes equally. In
England, however, one must conform to the established
custom, although it is much to be wished that in the classes
who can set the example, the French usage should be
adopted. A lace dress over silk is generally worn in Eng-
land The lace should be of the finest quality. Brus-
sels or Honiton is the most delicate and becoming ; the veil
should be of the same sort of lace as the dress. A wreath
of roses and orange flowers is worn round the head, not
confining the veil. The silk ought t3 be plain ; glace, not
WEDDING-GARMENTS. 425
moirt, if the bride be young, as the latter is too heavy ;
if she 13 no longer young, nothing is so becoming as moire
silk, either white or silver grey. Widows and ladies not
young are usually married in bonnets, which should be of
the most elegant description, trimmed with flowers 01
feathers, according to the taste of the wearer.
The gentleman's dress should N differ little from his full
morning costume. The days are gone by when gentlemen
were married as a recently deceased friend of mine was
in white satin breeches and waistcoat. In these days
men show less joy in their attire at the fond consummation
of their hopes, and more in their faces. A dark-blue
frock-coat black being superstitiously considered ominous
a white waistcoat, and a pair of light trousers, suffice
for the " happy man." The neck- tie also should be light
and simple. Polished boots are not amiss, though plain
ones are better. The gloves must be as white as the linen.
Both are typical for in these days types are as important
as under the Hebrew lawgivers of the purity of mind
and heart which are supposed to exist in their wearer.
Eheu ! after all, he cannot be too well dressed, for the
more gay he is the greater the compliment to his bride.
Flowers in the button-hole and a smile on the face show
the bridegroom to be really a " happy man."
As soon as the carriages are at the door, those brides-
maids, who happen to be in the house, and the other
members of the family set off first. The bride goes last,
with her father and mother, or with her mother alone, and
the brother or relative who is to represent her father in
case of death or absence. The bridegroom, his friend, or
bridegroom's man, and the bridesmaids ought to be waiting
in the church. The father of the bride gives her his arm,
126
MARRIAGE.
and leads her to the altar. Here her bridesmaids stand
near her, as arranged by the clerk, and the bridegroom
takes his appointed place.
It is a good thing for the bridegroom's man to distribute
the different fees to the clergyman or clergymen, the clerk,
and pew-opener, before the arrival of the bride, as it pre-
vents confusion afterwards.
The bride stands to the left of the bridegroom, and
takes the glove off her right hand, whilst he takes his
glove off his right hand. The bride gives her glove to the
bridesmaid to hold, and sometimes to keep, as a good
omen.
The service then begins. During the recital, it is cer-
tainly a matter of feeling how the parties concerned should
behave ; but if tears can be restrained, and a quiet mod-
esty in the lady displayed, and her emotions subdued, it
adds much to the gratification of others, and saves a few
pangs to the parents from whom she is to part.
It should be remembered that this is but the closing
scene of a drama of some duration first the offer, then
the consent and engagement. In most cases the marriage
has been preceded by acts which have stamped the whole
with certainty, although we do not adopt the contract sys-
tem of our forefathers, and although no event in this life
can be certain.
I have omitted the mention of the bouquet, because it
seems to me always an awkward addition to the bride, and
that it should be presented afterwards on her return to the
breakfast. Gardenias, if in season, white azalia, or even
camellias, with very little orange flowers, form the bridal
bouquet. The bridesmaids are dressed, on this occasion,
go as to complete the picture with effect. When there
THE BREAKFAST. 427
are six or eight, it is usual for three of them to dress in
one color, and three in another. At some of the most
fashionable weddings in London, the bridesmaids weai
veils these are usually of net or tulle ; white tarlatan
dresses, over muslin or beautifully-worked dresses, are
much worn, with colors introduced pink or blue, and
scarves of those colors ; and white bonnets, if bonnets arc
worn, trimmed with flowers to correspond. These should
be simple, but the flowers as natural as possible, and of
the finest quality. The bouquets of the bridesmaids should
be of mixed flowers. These they may have at church,
but the present custom is for the gentlemen of the house
to present them on their return home, previous to the
wedding breakfast.
The register is then signed. The bride quits the
church first with the bridegroom, and gets into his car-
riage, and the father and mother, bridesmaids, and bride-
groom's man, follow in order in their own.
The breakfast is arranged on one or more tables, and is
generally provided by a confectioner when expense is not
an object.
Flowers skilfully arranged in fine Bohemian g^ss, or
in rpergnes composed of silver, with glass-dishes, are very
ornamental on each side of the wedding-cake, which stands
in the centre. When the breakfast is sent from a confec-
tioner's, or is arranged in the house by a professed cx>k,
the wedding-cake is richly ornamented with flowers, in
sugar, and a knot of orange-flowers at the top. At each
end of the table are tea and coffee. Soup is sometimes
handed. Generally the viands are cold, consisting . of
poultry or game, lobster-salads, chicken or fish a la May-
?r?iaisscs ; hams, - tongues, potted-meats, prawns, and
428 MARRIAGE.
gamcrpies ; raisins, savory jellies, sweets of every descrip-
tion all cold. Ice is afterwards handed, and, before the
healths are drunk, the wedding-cake is cut by the nearest
gentleman and handed round.
The father then proposes the health of the bride and
bridegroom. The latter is expected to answer, and to
propose the bridegroom's man. The bridegroom's man
returns thanks, and pledges the bridesmaids, who answer
through the bridegroom. All other toasts are optional,
but it is de rigueur that the health of the clergyman or
clergymen who tied the knot, if present, should be drunk.
After these ceremonials have been duly performed, and
ample justice has been done to the breakfast, the bride
retires, and the company usually take leave of her in the
drawing room and depart.
It must be borne in mind that the wedding-breakfast
is not a dinner, and that the gentlemen do not stay be-
hind to take wine when the party breaks up and the la-
dies go up stairs.
A few words before this sometimes gay, sometimes sad
scene is dismissed.
The good sense of several personages in the, higher
ranks has broken through the customary appearance of
the bride at the breakfast, or indeed if she breakfast at
all. In France, the friends assembled to witness a wed-
ding do not follow the bride home. A ball or soiree
generally follows in the evening. Most people, one would
suppose, would be gladly released from the unnatural re-
past at an unusual hour ; the headache that makes tho
rest of the day miserable ; the hurry of the morning ; the
lassitude of the afternoon : the tearful, stumbling speeches
of (i dear papa" after champagne ; the modest, shy, broken
AJTTER THE EVENT. 429
sentences of the victimized bridegroom ; the extremely
critical situation of his bachelor friend, expected to be in
love with all the bridesmaids ; the sighs of the mother,
and prognostics of maiden aunts ; the heat, the disgust to
those articles which look so well by candlelight, but do
not bear daylight creams, whips, jellies, and all that
tribe of poisons; and, worst of all, the vast expense to
those who pay, and slight degree of pleasure to those who
do not these are among the miseries of the wedding-
breakfast.
Then the peculiar situation of the bride, tricked out
with finery like the bceyf-gras on Shrove-Tuesday, every
one staring at her to see how she looks ; her sensitive na-
ture all excited by the past solemnity ; her inmost feelings
crushed or raked up, as may be, by congratulations. To
subject a lady to such torture seems an act of cruelty in
cold blood. Suppose her joy is too great for utterance,
that there has been opposition in delay, why stick her up
on a pedestal, so that all may read the emotions of that
throbbing heart beneath its encasement of Brussels lace ?
Suppose that heart does not go along with the joy, and
the compliments and the hopes of ever-constant felicity ;
" let the stricken deer go weep ;" do not parade what now
had better be forgotten. To some heart in that over-
dressed assembly of smiling friends there will be a touch,
in whatever is said, to give pain ; on occasions also where
the feelings form the actual theme, the less said the
better.
The bride has, however, retired, and we will follow.
Her travelling-dress is now to be assumed. This should
be good in quality, but plain, like a handsome dress for
morring calls. An elegant bonnet, not too plain, a hand-
430 MARRIAGE.
some shawl or mantle, and colored gloves, form the suita-
ble costume, of which it is impossible to define the com-
ponent parts, but we merely recommend that the colors
of the dress, and shawl, and bonnet, should as nearly a?
possible assimilate ; that the style should be of the very
best, so that the impression left may be suitable, agreea-
ble and elegant.
One more word about fees to servants. These form a
very varying point on a marriage, and depend on the con-
dition in life of the parties. A considerable sum is ex-
pected from a nobleman, or a commoner of large fortune,
but a much more modest calculation for a professional
man, or a son whose father is still living, and who receives
merely an allowance to enable him to marry.
Presents are usual, first from the bridegroom to the .
bridesmaids. These generally consist of jewelry, the de-
vice of which should be unique or quaint, the article
more elegant than massive. The female servants of the
family, more especially servants who have lived many
years in their place, also expect presents, such as gowns
or shawls ; or to a very valued personal attendant or
housekeeper, a watch. But on such points discretion
must suggest, and liberality measure out the largesse of
the gift.
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