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diff --git a/old/14314.txt b/old/14314.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd3caa1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14314.txt @@ -0,0 +1,24911 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Etiquette, by Emily Post + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Etiquette + +Author: Emily Post + +Release Date: December 10, 2004 [EBook #14314] +[Last updated March 5, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ETIQUETTE *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, "Costello and Abbott" and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration: A BRIDE'S BOUQUET + +"THE RADIANCE OF A TRULY HAPPY BRIDE IS SO BEAUTIFYING THAT EVEN A PLAIN +GIRL IS MADE PRETTY, AND A PRETTY ONE, DIVINE." [Page 373.]] + + + + +=ETIQUETTE= + + IN SOCIETY, IN BUSINESS, IN POLITICS + AND AT HOME + + + =BY EMILY POST= + + (MRS. PRICE POST) + + Author of "Purple and Fine Linen," "The Title Market," "Woven in the + Tapestry," "The Flight of a Moth," "Letters of a Worldly + Godmother," etc., etc. + + + ILLUSTRATED WITH PRIVATE PHOTOGRAPHS + AND FACSIMILES OF SOCIAL FORMS + + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + =NEW YORK AND LONDON= + + 1922 + + By + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + [Printed in the United States of America] + First Edition published in July 1922 + Second Edition published in September, 1922 + + August 11, 1910. + + + TO YOU MY FRIENDS + WHOSE IDENTITY IN THESE PAGES + IS VEILED IN FICTIONAL DISGUISE + IT IS BUT FITTING THAT + I DEDICATE THIS BOOK. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER + + INTRODUCTION + I. WHAT IS BEST SOCIETY? + II. INTRODUCTIONS + III. GREETINGS + IV. SALUTATIONS OF COURTESY + V. ON THE STREET AND IN PUBLIC + VI. AT PUBLIC GATHERINGS + VII. CONVERSATION + VIII. WORDS, PHRASES AND PRONUNCIATION + IX. ONE'S POSITION IN THE COMMUNITY + X. CARDS AND VISITS + XI. INVITATIONS, ACCEPTANCES AND REGRETS + XII. THE WELL-APPOINTED HOUSE + XIII. TEAS AND OTHER AFTERNOON PARTIES + XIV. FORMAL DINNERS + XV. DINNER-GIVING WITH LIMITED EQUIPMENT + XVI. LUNCHEONS, BREAKFASTS AND SUPPERS + XVII. BALLS AND DANCES + XVIII. THE DEBUTANTE + XIX. THE CHAPERON AND OTHER CONVENTIONS + XX. ENGAGEMENTS + XXI. FIRST PREPARATIONS BEFORE A WEDDING + XXII. THE DAY OF THE WEDDING + XXIII. CHRISTENINGS + XXIV. FUNERALS + XXV. THE COUNTRY HOUSE AND ITS HOSPITALITY + XXVI. THE HOUSE PARTY IN CAMP + XXVII. NOTES AND SHORTER LETTERS + XXVIII. LONGER LETTERS + XXIX. THE FUNDAMENTALS OF GOOD BEHAVIOR + XXX. CLUBS AND CLUB ETIQUETTE + XXXI. GAMES AND SPORTS + XXXII. ETIQUETTE IN BUSINESS AND POLITICS + XXXIII. DRESS + XXXIV. THE CLOTHES OF A GENTLEMAN + XXXV. THE KINDERGARTEN OF ETIQUETTE + XXXVI. EVERY-DAY MANNERS AT HOME + XXXVII. TRAVELING AT HOME AND ABROAD + XXXVIII. THE GROWTH OF GOOD TASTE IN AMERICA + + +PHOTOGRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS + + A BRIDE'S BOUQUET + A GEM OF A HOUSE + THE PERSONALITY OF A HOUSE + CONSIDERATION FOR SERVANTS + THE AFTERNOON TEA-TABLE + A FORMAL DINNER + DETAIL OF PLACE AT A FORMAL DINNER + A DINNER SERVICE WITHOUT SILVER + THE MOST ELABORATE DINNER DANCE EVER GIVEN IN NEW YORK + A CHURCH WEDDING + A HOUSE WEDDING + THE IDEAL GUEST ROOM + A BREAKFAST TRAY + THE CHILD AT TABLE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +MANNERS AND MORALS + +By + +Richard Duffy + + +Many who scoff at a book of etiquette would be shocked to hear the least +expression of levity touching the Ten Commandments. But the Commandments +do not always prevent such virtuous scoffers from dealings with their +neighbor of which no gentleman could be capable and retain his claim to +the title. Though it may require ingenuity to reconcile their actions with +the Decalogue--the ingenuity is always forthcoming. There is no intention +in this remark to intimate that there is any higher rule of life than the +Ten Commandments; only it is illuminating as showing the relationship +between manners and morals, which is too often overlooked. The polished +gentleman of sentimental fiction has so long served as the type of smooth +and conscienceless depravity that urbanity of demeanor inspires distrust +in ruder minds. On the other hand, the blunt, unpolished hero of melodrama +and romantic fiction has lifted brusqueness and pushfulness to a pedestal +not wholly merited. Consequently, the kinship between conduct that keeps +us within the law and conduct that makes civilized life worthy to be +called such, deserves to be noted with emphasis. The Chinese sage, +Confucius, could not tolerate the suggestion that virtue is in itself +enough without politeness, for he viewed them as inseparable and "saw +courtesies as coming from the heart," maintaining that "when they are +practised with all the heart, a moral elevation ensues." + +People who ridicule etiquette as a mass of trivial and arbitrary +conventions, "extremely troublesome to those who practise them and +insupportable to everybody else," seem to forget the long, slow progress +of social intercourse in the upward climb of man from the primeval state. +Conventions were established from the first to regulate the rights of the +individual and the tribe. They were and are the rules of the game of life +and must be followed if we would "play the game." Ages before man felt the +need of indigestion remedies, he ate his food solitary and furtive in some +corner, hoping he would not be espied by any stronger and hungrier fellow. +It was a long, long time before the habit of eating in common was +acquired; and it is obvious that the practise could not have been taken up +with safety until the individuals of the race knew enough about one +another and about the food resources to be sure that there was food +sufficient for all. When eating in common became the vogue, table manners +made their appearance and they have been waging an uphill struggle ever +since. The custom of raising the hat when meeting an acquaintance derives +from the old rule that friendly knights in accosting each other should +raise the visor for mutual recognition in amity. In the knightly years, it +must be remembered, it was important to know whether one was meeting +friend or foe. Meeting a foe meant fighting on the spot. Thus, it is +evident that the conventions of courtesy not only tend to make the wheels +of life run more smoothly, but also act as safeguards in human +relationship. Imagine the Paris Peace Conference, or any of the later +conferences in Europe, without the protective armor of diplomatic +etiquette! + +Nevertheless, to some the very word etiquette is an irritant. It implies a +great pother about trifles, these conscientious objectors assure us, and +trifles are unimportant. Trifles are unimportant, it is true, but then +life is made up of trifles. To those who dislike the word, it suggests all +that is finical and superfluous. It means a garish embroidery on the big +scheme of life; a clog on the forward march of a strong and courageous +nation. To such as these, the words etiquette and politeness connote +weakness and timidity. Their notion of a really polite man is a dancing +master or a man milliner. They were always willing to admit that the +French were the politest nation in Europe and equally ready to assert that +the French were the weakest and least valorous, until the war opened their +eyes in amazement. Yet, that manners and fighting can go hand in hand +appears in the following anecdote: + +In the midst of the war, some French soldiers and some non-French of the +Allied forces were receiving their rations in a village back of the lines. +The non-French fighters belonged to an Army that supplied rations +plentifully. They grabbed their allotments and stood about while hastily +eating, uninterrupted by conversation or other concern. The French +soldiers took their very meager portions of food, improvised a kind of +table on the top of a flat rock, and having laid out the rations, +including the small quantity of wine that formed part of the repast, sat +down in comfort and began their meal amid a chatter of talk. One of the +non-French soldiers, all of whom had finished their large supply of food +before the French had begun eating, asked sardonically: "Why do you +fellows make such a lot of fuss over the little bit of grub they give you +to eat?" The Frenchman replied: "Well, we are making war for civilization, +are we not? Very well, we are. Therefore, we eat in a civilized way." + +To the French we owe the word etiquette, and it is amusing to discover its +origin in the commonplace familiar warning--"Keep off the grass." It +happened in the reign of Louis XIV, when the gardens of Versailles were +being laid out, that the master gardener, an old Scotsman, was sorely +tried because his newly seeded lawns were being continually +trampled upon. To keep trespassers off, he put up warning signs or +tickets--_etiquettes_--on which was indicated the path along which to +pass. But the courtiers paid no attention to these directions and so the +determined Scot complained to the King in such convincing manner that His +Majesty issued an edict commanding everyone at Court to "keep within the +_etiquettes_." Gradually the term came to cover all the rules for correct +demeanor and deportment in court circles; and thus through the centuries +it has grown into use to describe the conventions sanctioned for the +purpose of smoothing personal contacts and developing tact and good +manners in social intercourse. With the decline of feudal courts and the +rise of empires of industry, much of the ceremony of life was discarded +for plain and less formal dealing. Trousers and coats supplanted doublets +and hose, and the change in costume was not more extreme than the change +in social ideas. The court ceased to be the arbiter of manners, though the +aristocracy of the land remained the high exemplar of good breeding. + +Yet, even so courtly and materialistic a mind as Lord Chesterfield's +acknowledged a connection between manners and morality, of which latter +the courts of Europe seemed so sparing. In one of the famous "Letters to +His Son" he writes: "Moral virtues are the foundation of society in +general, and of friendship in particular; but attentions, manners, and +graces, both adorn and strengthen them." Again he says: "Great merit, or +great failings, will make you respected or despised; but trifles, little +attentions, mere nothings, either done or reflected, will make you either +liked or disliked, in the general run of the world." For all the wisdom +and brilliancy of his worldly knowledge, perhaps no other writer has done +so much to bring disrepute on the "manners and graces" as Lord +Chesterfield, and this, it is charged, because he debased them so heavily +by considering them merely as the machinery of a successful career. To the +moralists, the fact that the moral standards of society in Lord +Chesterfield's day were very different from those of the present era +rather adds to the odium that has become associated with his attitude. His +severest critics, however, do concede that he is candid and outspoken, and +many admit that his social strategy is widely practised even in these +days. + +But the aims of the world in which he moved were routed by the onrush of +the ideals of democratic equality, fraternity, and liberty. With the +prosperity of the newer shibboleths, the old-time notion of aristocracy, +gentility, and high breeding became more and more a curio to be framed +suitably in gold and kept in the glass case of an art museum. The crashing +advance of the industrial age of gold thrust all courts and their sinuous +graces aside for the unmistakable ledger balance of the counting-house. +This new order of things had been a long time in process, when, in the +first year of this century, a distinguished English social historian, the +late The Right Honorable G.W.E. Russell, wrote: "Probably in all ages of +history men have liked money, but a hundred years ago they did not talk +about it in society.... Birth, breeding, rank, accomplishments, eminence +in literature, eminence in art, eminence in public service--all these +things still count for something in society. But when combined they are +only as the dust of the balance when weighed against the all-prevalent +power of money. The worship of the Golden Calf is the characteristic cult +of modern society." In the Elizabethan Age of mighty glory, three hundred +years before this was said, Ben Jonson had railed against money as "a thin +membrane of honor," groaning: "How hath all true reputation fallen since +money began to have any!" Now the very fact that the debasing effect of +money on the social organism has been so constantly reprehended, from +Scriptural days onward, proves the instinctive yearning of mankind for a +system of life regulated by good taste, high intelligence and sound +affections. But, it remains true that, in the succession of great +commercial epochs, coincident with the progress of modern science and +invention, _almost_ everything can be bought and sold, and so _almost_ +everything is rated by the standard of money. + +Yet, this standard is precisely not the ultimate test of the Christianity +on which we have been pluming ourselves through the centuries. Still, no +one can get along without money; and few of us get along very well with +what we have. At least we think so--because everybody else seems to think +that way. We Americans are members of the nation which, materially, is +the richest, most prosperous and most promising in the world. This idea is +dinned into our heads continually by foreign observers, and publicly we +"own the soft impeachment." Privately, each individual American seems +driven with the decision that he must live up to the general conception of +the nation as a whole. And he does, but in less strenuous moments he might +profitably ponder the counsel of Gladstone to his countrymen: "Let us +respect the ancient manners and recollect that, if the true soul of +chivalry has died among us, with it all that is good in society has died. +Let us cherish a sober mind; take for granted that in our best +performances there are latent many errors which in their own time will +come to light." + +America, too, has her ancient manners to remember and respect; but, in the +rapid assimilation of new peoples into her economic and social organism, +more pressing concerns take up nearly all her time. The perfection of +manners by intensive cultivation of good taste, some believe, would be the +greatest aid possible to the moralists who are alarmed over the decadence +of the younger generation. Good taste may not make men or women really +virtuous, but it will often save them from what theologians call +"occasions of sin." We may note, too, that grossness in manners forms a +large proportion of the offenses that fanatical reformers foam about. +Besides grossness, there is also the meaner selfishness. Selfishness is at +the polar remove from the worldly manners of the old school, according to +which, as Dr. Pusey wrote, others were preferred to self, pain was given +to no one, no one was neglected, deference was shown to the weak and the +aged, and unconscious courtesy extended to all inferiors. Such was the +"beauty" of the old manners, which he felt consisted in "acting upon +Christian principle, and if in any case it became soulless, as apart from +Christianity, the beautiful form was there, into which the real life might +re-enter." + +As a study of all that is admirable in American manners, and as a guide to +behavior in the simplest as well as the most complex requirements of life +day by day, whether we are at home or away from it, there can be no +happier choice than the present volume. It is conceived in the belief that +etiquette in its broader sense means the technique of human conduct under +all circumstances in life. Yet all minutiae of correct manners are included +and no detail is too small to be explained, from the selection of a +visiting card to the mystery of eating corn on the cob. Matters of clothes +for men and women are treated with the same fullness of information and +accuracy of taste as are questions of the furnishing of their houses and +the training of their minds to social intercourse. But there is no +exaggeration of the minor details at the expense of the more important +spirit of personal conduct and attitude of mind. To dwell on formal +trivialities, the author holds, is like "measuring the letters of the +sign-boards by the roadside instead of profiting by the directions they +offer." She would have us know also that "it is not the people who make +small technical mistakes or even blunders, who are barred from the paths +of good society, but those of sham and pretense whose veneered vulgarity +at every step tramples the flowers in the gardens of cultivation." To her +mind the structure of etiquette is comparable to that of a house, of which +the foundation is ethics and the rest good taste, correct speech, quiet, +unassuming behavior, and a proper pride of dignity. + +To such as entertain the mistaken notion that politeness implies all give +and little or no return, it is well to recall Coleridge's definition of a +gentleman: "We feel the gentlemanly character present with us," he said, +"whenever, under all circumstances of social intercourse, the trivial, not +less than the important, through the whole detail of his manners and +deportment, and with the ease of a habit, a person shows respect to others +in such a way as at the same time implies, in his own feelings, and +habitually, an assured anticipation of reciprocal respect from them to +himself. In short, the gentlemanly character arises out of the feeling of +equality acting as a habit, yet flexible to the varieties of rank, and +modified without being disturbed or superseded by them." Definitions of a +gentleman are numerous, and some of them famous; but we do not find such +copiousness for choice in definitions of a lady. Perhaps it has been +understood all along that the admirable and just characteristics of a +gentleman should of necessity be those also of a lady, with the charm of +womanhood combined. And, in these days, with the added responsibility of +the vote. + +Besides the significance of this volume as an indubitable authority on +manners, it should be pointed out that as a social document, it is without +precedent in American literature. In order that we may better realize the +behavior and environment of well-bred people, the distinguished author has +introduced actual persons and places in fictional guise. They are the +persons and the places of her own world; and whether we can or can not +penetrate the incognito of the Worldlys, the Gildings, the Kindharts, the +Oldnames, and the others, is of no importance. Fictionally, they are real +enough for us to be interested and instructed in their way of living. That +they happen to move in what is known as Society is incidental, for, as the +author declares at the very outset: "Best Society is not a fellowship of +the wealthy, nor does it seek to exclude those who are not of exalted +birth; but it is an association of gentlefolk, of which good form in +speech, charm of manner, knowledge of the social amenities, and +instinctive consideration for the feelings of others, are the credentials +by which society the world over recognizes its chosen members." + +The immediate fact is that the characters of this book are thoroughbred +Americans, representative of various sections of the country and free from +the slightest tinge of snobbery. Not all of them are even well-to-do, in +the postwar sense; and their devices of economy in household outlay, dress +and entertainment are a revelation in the science of ways and means. There +are parents, children, relatives and friends all passing before us in the +pageant of life from the cradle to the grave. No circumstance, from an +introduction to a wedding, is overlooked in this panorama and the +spectator has beside him a cicerone in the person of the author who clears +every doubt and answers every question. In course, the conviction grows +upon him that etiquette is no flummery of poseurs "aping the manners of +their betters," nor a code of snobs, who divide their time between licking +the boots of those above them and kicking at those below, but a system of +rules of conduct based on respect of self coupled with respect of others. +Meanwhile, to guard against conceit in his new knowledge, he may at odd +moments recall Ben Jonson's lines: + + "Nor stand so much on your gentility, + Which is an airy, and mere borrowed thing, + From dead men's dust, and bones: And none of yours + Except you make, or hold it." + + + + +=ETIQUETTE= + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHAT IS BEST SOCIETY? + + +"Society" is an ambiguous term; it may mean much or nothing. Every human +being--unless dwelling alone in a cave--is a member of society of one sort +or another, and therefore it is well to define what is to be understood by +the term "Best Society" and why its authority is recognized. Best Society +abroad is always the oldest aristocracy; composed not so much of persons +of title, which may be new, as of those families and communities which +have for the longest period of time known highest cultivation. Our own +Best Society is represented by social groups which have had, since this is +America, widest rather than longest association with old world +cultivation. Cultivation is always the basic attribute of Best Society, +much as we hear in this country of an "Aristocracy of wealth." + +To the general public a long purse is synonymous with high position--a +theory dear to the heart of the "yellow" press and eagerly fostered in the +preposterous social functions of screen drama. It is true that Best +Society is comparatively rich; it is true that the hostess of great +wealth, who constantly and lavishly entertains, will shine, at least to +the readers of the press, more brilliantly than her less affluent sister. +Yet the latter, through her quality of birth, her poise, her inimitable +distinction, is often the jewel of deeper water in the social crown of her +time. + +The most advertised commodity is not always intrinsically the best, but is +sometimes merely the product of a company with plenty of money to spend on +advertising. In the same way, money brings certain people before the +public--sometimes they are persons of "quality," quite as often the +so-called "society leaders" featured in the public press do not belong to +good society at all, in spite of their many published photographs and the +energies of their press-agents. Or possibly they do belong to "smart" +society; but if too much advertised, instead of being the "queens" they +seem, they might more accurately be classified as the court jesters of +to-day. + + +=THE IMITATION AND THE GENUINE= + +New York, more than any city in the world, unless it be Paris, loves to be +amused, thrilled and surprised all at the same time; and will accept with +outstretched hand any one who can perform this astounding feat. Do not +underestimate the ability that can achieve it: a scintillating wit, an +arresting originality, a talent for entertaining that amounts to genius, +and gold poured literally like rain, are the least requirements. + +Puritan America on the other hand demanding, as a ticket of admission to +her Best Society, the qualifications of birth, manners and cultivation, +clasps her hands tight across her slim trim waist and announces severely +that New York's "Best" is, in her opinion, very "bad" indeed. But this is +because Puritan America, as well as the general public, mistakes the +jester for the queen. + +As a matter of fact, Best Society is not at all like a court with an +especial queen or king, nor is it confined to any one place or group, but +might better be described as an unlimited brotherhood which spreads over +the entire surface of the globe, the members of which are invariably +people of cultivation and worldly knowledge, who have not only perfect +manners but a perfect manner. Manners are made up of trivialities of +deportment which can be easily learned if one does not happen to know +them; manner is personality--the outward manifestation of one's innate +character and attitude toward life. A gentleman, for instance, will never +be ostentatious or overbearing any more than he will ever be servile, +because these attributes never animate the impulses of a well-bred person. +A man whose manners suggest the grotesque is invariably a person of +imitation rather than of real position. + +Etiquette must, if it is to be of more than trifling use, include ethics +as well as manners. Certainly what one is, is of far greater importance +than what one appears to be. A knowledge of etiquette is of course +essential to one's decent behavior, just as clothing is essential to one's +decent appearance; and precisely as one wears the latter without being +self-conscious of having on shoes and perhaps gloves, one who has good +manners is equally unself-conscious in the observance of etiquette, the +precepts of which must be so thoroughly absorbed as to make their +observance a matter of instinct rather than of conscious obedience. + +Thus Best Society is not a fellowship of the wealthy, nor does it seek to +exclude those who are not of exalted birth; but it _is_ an association of +gentle-folk, of which good form in speech, charm of manner, knowledge of +the social amenities, and instinctive consideration for the feelings of +others, are the credentials by which society the world over recognizes its +chosen members. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTRODUCTIONS + + +=THE CORRECT FORM= + +The word "present" is preferable on formal occasions to the word +"introduce." On informal occasions neither word is expressed, though +understood, as will be shown below. The correct formal introduction is: + + "Mrs. Jones, may I present Mr. Smith?" + +or, + + "Mr. Distinguished, may I present Mr. Young?" + +The younger person is always presented to the older or more distinguished, +but a gentleman is always presented to a lady, even though he is an old +gentleman of great distinction and the lady a mere slip of a girl. + +No lady is ever, except to the President of the United States, a cardinal, +or a reigning sovereign, presented to a man. The correct introduction of +either a man or woman: + +To the President, + +is, + + "Mr. President, I have the honor to present Mrs. Jones, of + Chicago." + +To a Cardinal, + +is, + + "Your Eminence, may I present Mrs. Jones?" + +To a King: + +Much formality of presenting names on lists is gone through beforehand; at +the actual presentation an "accepted" name is repeated from functionary to +equerry and nothing is said to the King or Queen except: "Mrs. Jones." + +But a Foreign Ambassador is presented, "Mr. Ambassador, may I present you +to Mrs. Jones." + +Very few people in polite society are introduced by their formal titles. A +hostess says, "Mrs. Jones, may I present the Duke of Overthere?" or "Lord +Blank?"; never "his Grace" or "his Lordship." The Honorable is merely Mr. +Lordson, or Mr. Holdoffice. A doctor, a judge, a bishop, are addressed and +introduced by their titles. The clergy are usually Mister unless they +formally hold the title of Doctor, or Dean, or Canon. A Catholic priest is +"Father Kelly." A senator is always introduced as Senator, whether he is +still in office or not. But the President of the United States, once he is +out of office, is merely "Mr." and not "Ex-president." + + +=THE PREVAILING INTRODUCTION AND INFLECTION= + +In the briefer form of introduction commonly used, + + "Mrs. Worldly, Mrs. Norman," + +if the two names are said in the same tone of voice it is not apparent who +is introduced to whom; but by accentuating the more important person's +name, it can be made as clear as though the words "May I present" had been +used. + +The more important name is said with a slightly rising inflection, the +secondary as a mere statement of fact. For instance, suppose you say, "Are +you there?" and then "It is raining!" Use the same inflection exactly and +say, "Mrs. Worldly?"--"Mrs. Younger!" + + Are you there?--It is raining! + Mrs. Worldly?--Mrs. Younger! + +The unmarried lady is presented to the married one, unless the latter is +very much the younger. As a matter of fact, in introducing two ladies to +each other or one gentleman to another, no distinction is made. "Mrs. +Smith; Mrs. Norman." "Mr. Brown; Mr. Green." + +The inflection is: + + I think--it's going to rain! + Mrs. Smith--Mrs. Norman! + +A man is also often introduced, "Mrs. Worldly? Mr. Norman!" But to a very +distinguished man, a mother would say: + + "Mr. Edison--My daughter, Mary!" + +To a young man, however, she should say, "Mr. Struthers, have you met my +daughter?" If the daughter is married, she should have added, "My +daughter, Mrs. Smartlington." The daughter's name is omitted because it is +extremely bad taste (except in the South) to call her daughter "Miss Mary" +to any one but a servant, and on the other hand she should not present a +young man to "Mary." The young man can easily find out her name afterward. + + +=OTHER FORMS OF INTRODUCTION= + +Other permissible forms of introduction are: + +"Mrs. Jones, do you know Mrs. Norman?" + +or, + +"Mrs. Jones, you know Mrs. Robinson, don't you?" (on no account say "Do +you not?" Best Society always says "don't you?") + +or, + +"Mrs. Robinson, have you met Mrs. Jones?" + +or, + +"Mrs. Jones, do you know my mother?" + +or, + +"This is my daughter Ellen, Mrs. Jones." + +These are all good form, whether gentlemen are introduced to ladies, +ladies to ladies, or gentlemen to gentlemen. In introducing a gentleman to +a lady, you may ask Mr. Smith if he has met Mrs. Jones, but you must not +ask Mrs. Jones if she has met Mr. Smith! + + +=FORMS OF INTRODUCTIONS TO AVOID= + +Do not say: "Mr. Jones, shake hands with Mr. Smith," or "Mrs. Jones, I +want to make you acquainted with Mrs. Smith." Never say: "make you +acquainted with" and do not, in introducing one person to another, call +one of them "my friend." You can say "my aunt," or "my sister," or "my +cousin"--but to pick out a particular person as "my friend" is not only +bad style but, unless you have only one friend, bad manners--as it implies +Mrs. Smith is "my friend" and you are a stranger. + +You may very properly say to Mr. Smith "I want you to meet Mrs. Jones," +but this is not a form of introduction, nor is it to be said in Mrs. +Jones' hearing. Upon leading Mr. Smith up to Mrs. Jones, you say "Mrs. +Jones may I present Mr. Smith" or "Mrs. Jones; Mr. Smith." Under no +circumstances whatsoever say "Mr. Smith meet Mrs. Jones," or "Mrs. Jones +meet Mr. Smith." Either wording is equally preposterous. + +Do not repeat "Mrs. Jones? Mrs. Smith! Mrs. Smith? Mrs. Jones!" To say +each name once is quite enough. + +Most people of good taste very much dislike being asked their names. To +say "What is your name?" is always abrupt and unflattering. If you want to +know with whom you have been talking, you can generally find a third +person later and ask "Who was the lady with the grey feather in her hat?" +The next time you see her you can say "How do you do, Mrs. ----" (calling +her by name). + + +=WHEN TO SHAKE HANDS= + +When gentlemen are introduced to each other they always shake hands. + +When a gentleman is introduced to a lady, she sometimes puts out her +hand--especially if he is some one she has long heard about from friends +in common, but to an entire stranger she generally merely bows her head +slightly and says: "How do you do!" Strictly speaking, it is always her +place to offer her hand or not as she chooses, but if he puts out his +hand, it is rude on her part to ignore it. Nothing could be more ill-bred +than to treat curtly any overture made in spontaneous friendliness. No +thoroughbred lady would ever refuse to shake any hand that is honorable, +not even the hand of a coal heaver at the risk of her fresh white glove. + +Those who have been drawn into a conversation do not usually shake hands +on parting. But there is no fixed rule. A lady sometimes shakes hands +after talking with a casual stranger; at other times she does not offer +her hand on parting from one who has been punctiliously presented to her. +She may find the former sympathetic and the latter very much the contrary. + +Very few rules of etiquette are inelastic and none more so than the +acceptance or rejection of the strangers you meet. + +There is a wide distance between rudeness and reserve. You can be +courteously polite and at the same time extremely aloof to a stranger who +does not appeal to you, or you can be welcomingly friendly to another whom +you like on sight. Individual temperament has also to be taken into +consideration: one person is naturally austere, another genial. The latter +shakes hands far more often than the former. As already said, it is +unforgivably rude to refuse a proffered hand, but it is rarely necessary +to offer your hand if you prefer not to. + + +=WHAT TO SAY WHEN INTRODUCED= + +Best Society has only one phrase in acknowledgment of an introduction: +"How do you do?" It literally accepts no other. When Mr. Bachelor says, +"Mrs. Worldly, may I present Mr. Struthers?" Mrs. Worldly says, "How do +you do?" Struthers bows, and says nothing. To sweetly echo "Mr. +Struthers?" with a rising inflection on "--thers?" is not good form. +Saccharine chirpings should be classed with crooked little fingers, high +hand-shaking and other affectations. All affectations are bad form. + +Persons of position do not say: "Charmed," or "Pleased to meet you," etc., +but often the first remark is the beginning of a conversation. For +instance, + +Young Struthers is presented to Mrs. Worldly. She smiles and perhaps says, +"I hear that you are going to be in New York all winter?" Struthers +answers, "Yes, I am at the Columbia Law School," etc., or since he is much +younger than she, he might answer, "Yes, Mrs. Worldly," especially if his +answer would otherwise be a curt yes or no. Otherwise he does not continue +repeating her name. + +TAKING LEAVE OF ONE YOU HAVE JUST MET + +After an introduction, when you have talked for some time to a stranger +whom you have found agreeable, and you then take leave, you say, "Good-by, +I am very glad to have met you," or "Good-by, I hope I shall see you again +soon"--or "some time." The other person answers, "Thank you," or perhaps +adds, "I hope so, too." Usually "Thank you" is all that is necessary. + +In taking leave of a group of strangers--it makes no difference whether +you have been introduced to them or merely included in their +conversation--you bow "good-by" to any who happen to be looking at you, +but you do not attempt to attract the attention of those who are unaware +that you are turning away. + + +=INTRODUCING ONE PERSON TO A GROUP= + +This is never done on formal occasions when a great many persons are +present. At a small luncheon, for instance, a hostess always introduces +her guests to one another. + +Let us suppose you are the hostess: your position is not necessarily near, +but it is toward the door. Mrs. King is sitting quite close to you, Mrs. +Lawrence also near. Miss Robinson and Miss Brown are much farther away. + +Mrs. Jones enters. You go a few steps forward and shake hands with her, +then stand aside as it were, for a second only, to see if Mrs. Jones goes +to speak to any one. If she apparently knows no one, you say, + +"Mrs. King, do you know Mrs. Jones?" Mrs. King being close at hand +(usually but not necessarily) rises, shakes hands with Mrs. Jones and sits +down again. If Mrs. King is an elderly lady, and Mrs. Jones a young one, +Mrs. King merely extends her hand and does not rise. Having said "Mrs. +Jones" once, you do not repeat it immediately, but turning to the other +lady sitting near you, you say, "Mrs. Lawrence," then you look across the +room and continue, "Miss Robinson, Miss Brown--Mrs. Jones!" Mrs. Lawrence, +if she is young, rises and shakes hands with Mrs. Jones, and the other two +bow but do not rise. + +At a very big luncheon you would introduce Mrs. Jones to Mrs. King and +possibly to Mrs. Lawrence, so that Mrs. Jones might have some one to talk +to. But if other guests come in at this moment, Mrs. Jones finds a place +for herself and after a pause, falls naturally into conversation with +those she is next to, without giving her name or asking theirs. + +A friend's roof is supposed to be an introduction to those it shelters. In +Best Society this is always recognized if the gathering is intimate, such +as at a luncheon, dinner or house party; but it is not accepted at a ball +or reception, or any "general" entertainment. People always talk to their +neighbors at table whether introduced or not. It would be a breach of +etiquette not to! But if Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Norman merely spoke to each +other for a few moments, in the drawing-room, it is not necessary that +they recognize each other afterwards. + + +=NEW YORK'S BAD MANNERS= + +New York's bad manners are often condemned and often very deservedly. Even +though the cause is carelessness rather than intentional indifference, the +indifference is no less actual and the rudeness inexcusable. + +It is by no means unheard of that after sitting at table next to the guest +of honor, a New Yorker will meet her the next day with utter +unrecognition. Not because the New Yorker means to "cut" the stranger or +feels the slightest unwillingness to continue the acquaintance, but +because few New Yorkers possess enthusiasm enough to make an effort to +remember all the new faces they come in contact with, but allow all those +who are not especially "fixed" in their attention, to drift easily out of +mind and recognition. It is mortifyingly true; no one is so ignorantly +indifferent to everything outside his or her own personal concern as the +socially fashionable New Yorker, unless it is the Londoner! The late +Theodore Roosevelt was a brilliantly shining exception. And, of course, +and happily, there are other men and women like him in this. But there are +also enough of the snail-in-shell variety to give color to the very just +resentment that those from other and more gracious cities hold against New +Yorkers. + +Everywhere else in the world (except London), the impulse of +self-cultivation, if not the more generous ones of consideration and +hospitality, induces people of good breeding to try and make the effort to +find out what manner of mind, or experience, or talent, a stranger has; +and to remember, at least out of courtesy, anyone for whose benefit a +friend of theirs gave a dinner or luncheon. To fashionable New York, +however, luncheon was at one-thirty; at three there is something else +occupying the moment--that is all. + +Nearly all people of the Atlantic Coast dislike general introductions, and +present people to each other as little as possible. In the West, however, +people do not feel comfortable in a room full of strangers. Whether or not +to introduce people therefore becomes not merely a question of propriety, +but of consideration for local custom. + + +=NEVER INTRODUCE UNNECESSARILY= + +The question as to when introductions should be made, or not made, is one +of the most elusive points in the entire range of social knowledge. +"Whenever necessary to bridge an awkward situation," is a definition that +is exact enough, but not very helpful or clear. The hostess who allows a +guest to stand, awkward and unknown, in the middle of her drawing-room is +no worse than she who pounces on every chance acquaintance and drags +unwilling victims into forced recognition of each other, everywhere and on +all occasions. The fundamental rule never to introduce unnecessarily +brings up the question: + + +=WHICH ARE THE NECESSARY OCCASIONS?= + +First, in order of importance, is the presentation of everyone to guests +of honor, whether the "guests" are distinguished strangers for whom a +dinner is given, or a bride and groom, or a debutante being introduced to +society. It is the height of rudeness for anyone to go to an entertainment +given in honor of some one and fail to "meet" him. (Even though one's +memory is too feeble to remember him afterward!) + + +=INTRODUCTIONS AT A DINNER= + +The host must always see that every gentleman either knows or is presented +to the lady he is to "take in" to dinner, and also, if possible, to the +one who is to sit at the other side of him. If the latter introduction is +overlooked, people sitting next each other at table nearly always +introduce themselves. A gentleman says, "How do you do, Mrs. Jones. I am +Arthur Robinson." Or showing her his place card, "I have to introduce +myself, this is my name." Or the lady says first, "I am Mrs. Hunter +Jones." And the man answers, "How do you do, Mrs. Jones, my name is +Titherington Smith." + +It is not unusual, in New York, for those placed next each other to talk +without introducing themselves--particularly if each can read the name of +the other on the place cards. + + +=OTHER NECESSARY INTRODUCTIONS= + +Even in New York's most introductionless circles, people always introduce: + +A small group of people who are to sit together anywhere. + +Partners at dinner. + +The guests at a house party. + +Everyone at a small dinner or luncheon. + +The four who are at the same bridge table. + +Partners or fellow-players in any game. + +At a dance, when an invitation has been asked for a stranger, the friend +who vouched for him should personally present him to the hostess. "Mrs. +Worldly, this is Mr. Robinson, whom you said I might bring." The hostess +shakes hands and smiles and says: "I am very glad to see you, Mr. +Robinson." + +A guest in a box at the opera always introduces any gentleman who comes to +speak to her, to her hostess, unless the latter is engrossed in +conversation with a visitor of her own, or unless other people block the +distance between so that an introduction would be forced and awkward. + +A newly arriving visitor in a lady's drawing-room is not introduced to +another who is taking leave. Nor is an animated conversation between two +persons interrupted to introduce a third. Nor is any one ever led around a +room and introduced right and left. + +If two ladies or young girls are walking together and they meet a third +who stops to speak to one of them, the other walks slowly on and does not +stand awkwardly by and wait for an introduction. If the third is asked by +the one she knows, to join them, the sauntering friend is overtaken and an +introduction always made. The third, however, must not join them unless +invited to do so. + +At a very large dinner, people (excepting the gentlemen and ladies who are +to sit next to each other at table) are not collectively introduced. After +dinner, men in the smoking room or left at table always talk to their +neighbors whether they have been introduced or not, and ladies in the +drawing-room do the same. But unless they meet soon again, or have found +each other so agreeable that they make an effort to continue the +acquaintance, they become strangers again, equally whether they were +introduced or not. + +Some writers on etiquette speak of "correct introductions" that carry +"obligations of future acquaintance," and "incorrect introductions," that +seemingly obligate one to nothing. + +Degrees of introduction are utterly unknown to best society. It makes not +the slightest difference so far as any one's acceptance or rejection of +another is concerned how an introduction is worded or, on occasions, +whether an introduction takes place at all. + +Fashionable people in very large cities take introductions lightly; they +are veritable ships that pass in the night. They show their red or green +signals--which are merely polite sentences and pleasant manners--and they +pass on again. + +When you are introduced to some one for the second time and the first +occasion was without interest and long ago, there is no reason why you +should speak of the former meeting. + +If some one presents you to Mrs. Smith for the second time on the same +occasion, you smile and say "I have already met Mrs. Smith," but you say +nothing if you met Mrs. Smith long ago and she showed no interest in you +at that time. + +Most rules are elastic and contract and expand according to circumstances. +You do not remind Mrs. Smith of having met her before, but on meeting +again any one who was brought to your own house, or one who showed you an +especial courtesy you instinctively say, "I am so glad to see you again." + + +=INCLUDING SOMEONE IN CONVERSATION WITHOUT AN INTRODUCTION= + +On occasions it happens that in talking to one person you want to include +another in your conversation without making an introduction. For instance: +suppose you are talking to a seedsman and a friend joins you in your +garden. You greet your friend, and then include her by saying, "Mr. Smith +is suggesting that I dig up these cannas and put in delphiniums." Whether +your friend gives an opinion as to the change in color of your flower bed +or not, she has been made part of your conversation. + +This same maneuver of evading an introduction is also resorted to when you +are not sure that an acquaintance will be agreeable to one or both of +those whom an accidental circumstance has brought together. + + +=INTRODUCTIONS UNNECESSARY= + +You must never introduce people to each other in public places unless you +are certain beyond a doubt that the introduction will be agreeable to +both. You cannot commit a greater social blunder than to introduce, to a +person of position, some one she does not care to know, especially on +shipboard, in hotels, or in other very small, rather public, communities +where people are so closely thrown together that it is correspondingly +difficult to avoid undesirable acquaintances who have been given the wedge +of an introduction. + +As said above, introductions in very large cities are unimportant. In New +York, where people are meeting new faces daily, seldom seeing the same one +twice in a year, it requires a tenacious memory to recognize those one +hoped most to see again, and others are blotted out at once. + +People in good society rarely ask to be introduced to each other, but if +there is a good reason for knowing some one, they often introduce +themselves; for instance, Mary Smith says: + +"Mrs. Jones, aren't you a friend of my mother's? I am Mrs. Titherington +Smith's daughter." Mrs. Jones says: + +"Why, my dear child, I am so glad you spoke to me. Your mother and I have +known each other since we were children!" + +Or, an elder lady asks: "Aren't you Mary Smith? I have known your mother +since she was your age." Or a young woman says: "Aren't you Mrs. Worldly?" +Mrs. Worldly, looking rather freezingly, politely says "Yes" and waits. +And the stranger continues, "I think my sister Millicent Manners is a +friend of yours." Mrs. Worldly at once unbends. "Oh, yes, indeed, I am +devoted to Millicent! And you must be ----?" + +"I'm Alice." + +"Oh, of course, Millicent has often talked of you, and of your lovely +voice. I want very much to hear you sing some time." + +These self-introductions, however, must never presumingly be made. It +would be in very bad taste for Alice to introduce herself to Mrs. Worldly +if her sister knew her only slightly. + + +=A BUSINESS VISIT NOT AN INTRODUCTION= + +A lady who goes to see another to get a reference for a servant, or to ask +her aid in an organization for charity, would never consider such a +meeting as an introduction, even though they talked for an hour. Nor would +she offer to shake hands in leaving. On the other hand, neighbors who are +continually meeting, gradually become accustomed to say "How do you do?" +when they meet, even though they never become acquaintances. + + +=THE RETORT COURTEOUS TO ONE YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN= + +Let us suppose some one addresses you, and then slightly disconcerted +says: "You don't remember me, do you?" The polite thing--unless his manner +does not ring true, is to say "Why, of course, I do." And then if a few +neutral remarks lead to no enlightening topic, and bring no further +memory, you ask at the first opportunity who it was that addressed you. If +the person should prove actually to be unknown, it is very easy to repel +any further advances. But nearly always you find it is some one you ought +to have known, and your hiding the fact of your forgetfulness saves you +from the rather rude and stupid situation of blankly declaring: "I don't +remember you." + +If, after being introduced to you, Mr. Jones calls you by a wrong name, +you let it pass, at first, but if he persists you may say: "My name is +Simpson, not Simpkin." + +At a private dance, young men nowadays introduce their men friends to +young women without first asking the latter's permission, because all +those invited to a lady's house are supposed to be eligible for +presentation to everyone, or they would not be there. + +At a public ball young men and women keep very much to their own +particular small circle and are not apt to meet outsiders at all. Under +these circumstances a gentleman should be very careful not to introduce a +youth whom he knows nothing about to a lady of his acquaintance--or at +least he should ask her first. He can say frankly: "There is a man called +Sliders who has asked to meet you. I don't know who he is, but he seems +decent. Shall I introduce him?" The lady can say "Yes"; or, "I'd rather +not." + + +=INTRODUCTION BY LETTER= + +An introduction by letter is far more binding than a casual spoken +introduction which commits you to nothing. This is explained fully and +example letters are given in the chapter on Letters. + +A letter of introduction is handed you unsealed, always. It is correct for +you to seal it at once in the presence of its author. You thank your +friend for having written it and go on your journey. + +If you are a man and your introduction is to a lady, you go to her house +as soon as you arrive in her city, and leave the letter with your card at +her door. Usually you do not ask to see her; but if it is between four and +six o'clock it is quite correct to do so if you choose. Presenting +yourself with a letter is always a little awkward. Most people prefer to +leave their cards without asking to be received. + +If your letter is to a man, you mail it to his house, unless the letter is +a business one. In the latter case you go to his office, and send in your +card and the letter. Meanwhile you wait in the reception room until he has +read the letter and sends for you to come into his private office. + +If you are a woman, you mail your letter of social introduction and do +nothing further until you receive an acknowledgment. If the recipient of +your letter leaves her card on you, you in return leave yours on her. But +the obligation of a written introduction is such that only illness can +excuse her not asking you to her house--either formally or informally. + +When a man receives a letter introducing another man, he calls the person +introduced on the telephone and asks how he may be of service to him. If +he does not invite the newcomer to his house, he may put him up at his +club, or have him take luncheon or dinner at a restaurant, as the +circumstances seem to warrant. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +GREETINGS + + +=WHAT TO SAY WHEN INTRODUCED= + +As explained in the foregoing chapter, the correct formal greeting is: +"How do you do?" If Mrs. Younger is presented to Mrs. Worldly, Mrs. +Worldly says "How do you do?" If the Ambassador of France is presented to +her, she says "How do you do?" Mrs. Younger and the Ambassador likewise +say "How do you do?" or merely bow. + +There are a few expressions possible under other circumstances and upon +other occasions. If you have, through friends in common, long heard of a +certain lady, or gentleman, and you know that she, or he, also has heard +much of you, you may say when you are introduced to her: "I am very glad +to meet you," or "I am delighted to meet you at last!" Do not use the +expression "pleased to meet you" then or on any occasion. And you must not +say you are delighted unless you have reason to be sure that she also is +delighted to meet you. + +To one who has volunteered to help you in charitable work for instance, +you would say: "It is very good of you to help us," or, "to join us." + +In business a gentleman says: "Very glad to meet you," or "Delighted to +meet you." Or, if in his own office: "Very glad to see you!" + + +=INFORMAL GREETINGS= + +Informal greetings are almost as limited as formal, but not quite; for +besides saying "How do you do?" you can say "Good morning" and on +occasions "How are you?" or "Good evening." + +On very informal occasions, it is the present fashion to greet an intimate +friend with "Hello!" This seemingly vulgar salutation is made acceptable +by the tone in which it is said. To shout "Hul_low_!" is vulgar, but +"Hello, Mary" or "How 'do John," each spoken in an ordinary tone of voice, +sound much the same. But remember that the "Hello" is spoken, not called +out, and never used except between intimate friends who call each other by +the first name. + +There are only two forms of farewell: "Good-by" and "Good night." Never +say "Au revoir" unless you have been talking French, or are speaking to a +French person. Never interlard your conversation with foreign words or +phrases when you can possibly translate them into English; and the +occasions when our mother tongue will not serve are extremely rare. + +Very often in place of the over-worn "How do you do," perhaps more often +than not, people skip the words of actual greeting and plunge instead into +conversation: "Why, Mary! When did you get back?" or "What is the news +with you?" or "What have you been doing lately?" The weather, too, fills +in with equal faithfulness. "Isn't it a heavenly day!" or "Horrid weather, +isn't it?" It would seem that the variability of the weather was purposely +devised to furnish mankind with unfailing material for conversation. + +In bidding good-by to a new acquaintance with whom you have been talking, +you shake hands and say, "Good-by. I am very glad to have met you." To one +who has been especially interesting, or who is somewhat of a personage you +say: "It has been a great pleasure to meet you." The other answers: "Thank +you." + + +=IN CHURCH= + +People do not greet each other in church, except at a wedding. At weddings +people do speak to friends sitting near them, but in a low tone of voice. +It would be shocking to enter a church and hear a babel of voices! + +Ordinarily in church if a friend happens to catch your eye, you smile, but +never actually bow. If you go to a church not your own and a stranger +offers you a seat in her pew, you should, on leaving, turn to her and +say: "Thank you." But you do not greet anyone until you are out on the +church steps, when you naturally speak to your friends. "Hello" should not +be said on this occasion because it is too "familiar" for the solemnity of +church surroundings. + + +=SHAKING HANDS= + +Gentlemen always shake hands when they are introduced to each other. +Ladies rarely do so with gentlemen who are introduced to them; but they +usually shake hands with other ladies, if they are standing near together. +All people who know each other, unless merely passing by, shake hands when +they meet. + +A gentleman on the street never shakes hands with a lady without first +removing his right glove. But at the opera, or at a ball, or if he is +usher at a wedding, he keeps his glove on. + + +=PERSONALITY OF A HANDSHAKE= + +A handshake often creates a feeling of liking or of irritation between two +strangers. Who does not dislike a "boneless" hand extended as though it +were a spray of sea-weed, or a miniature boiled pudding? It is equally +annoying to have one's hand clutched aloft in grotesque affectation and +shaken violently sideways, as though it were being used to clean a spot +out of the atmosphere. What woman does not wince at the viselike grasp +that cuts her rings into her flesh and temporarily paralyzes every finger? + +The proper handshake is made briefly; but there should be a feeling of +strength and warmth in the clasp, and, as in bowing, one should at the +same time look into the countenance of the person whose hand one takes. In +giving her hand to a foreigner, a married woman always relaxes her arm and +fingers, as it is customary for him to lift her hand to his lips. But by a +relaxed hand is not meant a wet rag; a hand should have life even though +it be passive. A woman should always allow a man who is only an +acquaintance to shake her hand; she should never shake his. To a very old +friend she gives a much firmer clasp, but he shakes her hand more than she +shakes his. Younger women usually shake the hand of the older; or they +both merely clasp hands, give them a dropping movement rather than a +shake, and let go. + + +=POLITE GREETINGS FROM YOUNGER TO OLDER= + +It is the height of rudeness for young people not to go and shake hands +with an older lady of their acquaintance when they meet her away from +home, if she is a hostess to whose house they have often gone. It is not +at all necessary for either young women or young men to linger and enter +into a conversation, unless the older lady detains them, which she should +not do beyond the briefest minute. + +Older ladies who are always dragging young men up to unprepossessing +partners, are studiously avoided and with reason; but otherwise it is +inexcusable for any youth to fail in this small exaction of polite +behavior. If a young man is talking with some one when an older lady +enters the room, he bows formally from where he is, as it would be rude to +leave a young girl standing alone while he went up to speak to Mrs. +Worldly or Mrs. Toplofty. But a young girl passing near an older lady can +easily stop for a moment, say "How do you do, Mrs. Jones!" and pass on. + +People do not cross a room to speak to any one unless--to show politeness +to an acquaintance who is a stranger there; to speak to an intimate +friend; or to talk to some one about something in particular. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SALUTATIONS OF COURTESY + + +=WHEN A GENTLEMAN TAKES OFF HIS HAT= + +A gentleman takes off his hat and holds it in his hand when a lady enters +the elevator in which he is a passenger, but he puts it on again in the +corridor. A public corridor is like the street, but an elevator is +suggestive of a room, and a gentleman does not keep his hat on in the +presence of ladies in a house. + +This is the rule in elevators in hotels, clubs and apartments. In office +buildings and stores the elevator is considered as public a place as the +corridor. What is more, the elevators in such business structures are +usually so crowded that the only room for a man's hat is on his head. But +even under these conditions a gentleman can reveal his innate respect for +women by not permitting himself to be crowded too near to them. + +When a gentleman stops to speak to a lady of his acquaintance in the +street, he takes his hat off with his left hand, leaving his right free to +shake hands, or he takes it off with his right and transfers it to his +left. If he has a stick, he puts his stick in his left hand, takes off his +hat with his right, transfers his hat also to his left hand, and gives her +his right. If they walk ahead together, he at once puts his hat on; but +while he is standing in the street talking to her, he should remain +hatless. There is no rudeness greater than for him to stand talking to a +lady with his hat on, and a cigar or cigarette in his mouth. + +A gentleman always rises when a lady comes into a room. In public places +men do not jump up for every strange woman who happens to approach. But if +any woman addresses a remark to him, a gentleman at once rises to his +feet as he answers her. In a restaurant, when a lady bows to him, a +gentleman merely makes the gesture of rising by getting up half way from +his chair and at the same time bowing. Then he sits down again. + +When a lady goes to a gentleman's office on business he should stand up to +receive her, offer her a chair, and not sit down until after she is +seated. When she rises to leave, he must get up instantly and stand until +she has left the office. + +It is not necessary to add that every American citizen stands with his hat +off at the passing of the "colors" and when the national anthem is played. +If he didn't, some other more loyal citizen would take it off for him. +Also every man should stand with his hat off in the presence of a funeral +that passes close or blocks his way. + + +=A GENTLEMAN LIFTS HIS HAT= + +Lifting the hat is a conventional gesture of politeness shown to strangers +only, not to be confused with bowing, which is a gesture used to +acquaintances and friends. In lifting his hat, a gentleman merely lifts it +slightly off his forehead and replaces it; he does not smile nor bow, nor +even look at the object of his courtesy. No gentleman ever subjects a lady +to his scrutiny or his apparent observation. + +If a lady drops her glove, a gentleman should pick it up, hurry ahead of +her--on no account nudge her--offer the glove to her and say: "I think you +dropped this!" The lady replies: "Thank you." The gentleman should then +lift his hat and turn away. + +If he passes a lady in a narrow space, so that he blocks her way or in any +manner obtrudes upon her, he lifts his hat as he passes. + +If he gets on a street car and the car gives a lurch just as he is about +to be seated and throws him against another passenger, he lifts his hat +and says "Excuse me!" or "I beg your pardon!" He must _not_ say "Pardon +_me_!" He must not take a seat if there are ladies standing. But if he is +sitting and ladies enter, should they be young, he may with perfect +propriety keep his seat. If a very old woman, or a young one carrying a +baby, enters the car, a gentleman rises at once, lifts his hat slightly, +and says: "Please take my seat." He lifts his hat again when she thanks +him. + +If the car is very crowded when he wishes to leave it and a lady is +directly in his way, he asks: "May I get through, please?" As she makes +room for him to pass, he lifts his hat and says: "Thank you!" + +If he is in the company of a lady in a street car, he lifts his hat to +another gentleman who offers her a seat, picks up something she has +dropped, or shows her any civility. + +He lifts his hat if he asks anyone a question, and always, if, when +walking on the street with either a lady or a gentleman, his companion +bows to another person. In other words, a gentleman lifts his hat whenever +he says "Excuse me," "Thank you," or speaks to a stranger, or is spoken to +by a lady, or by an older gentleman. And no gentleman ever keeps a pipe, +cigar or cigarette in his mouth when he lifts his hat, takes it off, or +bows. + + +=THE BOW OF CEREMONY= + +The standing bow, made by a gentleman when he rises at a dinner to say a +few words, in response to applause, or across a drawing-room at a formal +dinner when he bows to a lady or an elderly gentleman, is usually the +outcome of the bow taught little boys at dancing school. The instinct of +clicking heels together and making a quick bend over from the hips and +neck, as though the human body had two hinges, a big one at the hip and a +slight one at the neck, and was quite rigid in between, remains in a +modified form through life. The man who as a child came habitually into +his mother's drawing-room when there was "company," generally makes a +charming bow when grown, which is wholly lacking in self-consciousness. +There is no apparent "heel-clicking" but a camera would show that the +motion is there. + +In every form of bow, as distinct from merely lifting his hat, a +gentleman looks at the person he is bowing to. In a very formal standing +bow, his heels come together, his knees are rigid and his expression is +rather serious. + + +=THE INFORMAL BOW= + +The informal bow is merely a modification of the above; it is easy and +unstudied, but it should suggest the ease of controlled muscles, not the +floppiness of a rag doll. + +In bowing on the street, a gentleman should never take his hat off with a +flourish, nor should he sweep it down to his knee; nor is it graceful to +bow by pulling the hat over the face as though examining the lining. The +correct bow, when wearing a high hat or derby, is to lift it by holding +the brim directly in front, take it off merely high enough to escape the +head easily, bring it a few inches forward, the back somewhat up, the +front down, and put it on again. To a very old lady or gentleman, to show +adequate respect, a sweeping bow is sometimes made by a somewhat +exaggerated circular motion downward to perhaps the level of the waist, so +that the hat's position is upside down. + +If a man is wearing a soft hat he takes it by the crown instead of the +brim, lifts it slightly off his head and puts it on again. + +The bow to a friend is made with a smile, to a very intimate friend often +with a broad grin that fits exactly with the word "Hello"; whereas the +formal bow is mentally accompanied by the formal salutation: "How do you +do!" + + +=THE BOW OF A WOMAN OF CHARM= + +The reputation of Southern women for having the gift of fascination is +perhaps due not to prettiness of feature more than to the brilliancy or +sweetness of their ready smile. That Southern women are charming and +"feminine" and lovable is proverbial. How many have noticed that Southern +women always bow with the grace of a flower bending in the breeze and a +smile like sudden sunshine? The unlovely woman bows as though her head +were on a hinge and her smile sucked through a lemon. + +Nothing is so easy for any woman to acquire as a charming bow. It is such +a short and fleeting duty. Not a bit of trouble really; just to incline +your head and spontaneously smile as though you thought "Why, _there_ is +Mrs. Smith! How glad I am to see her!" + +Even to a stranger who does her a favor, a woman of charm always smiles as +she says "Thank you!" As a possession for either woman or man, a ready +smile is more valuable in life than a ready wit; the latter may sometimes +bring enemies, but the former always brings friends. + + +=WHEN TO BOW= + +Under formal circumstances a lady is supposed to bow to a gentleman first; +but people who know each other well bow spontaneously without observing +this etiquette. + +In meeting the same person many times within an hour or so, one does not +continue to bow after the second, or at most third meeting. After that one +either looks away or merely smiles. Unless one has a good memory for +people, it is always better to bow to some one whose face is familiar than +to run the greater risk of ignoring an acquaintance. + + +=THE "CUT DIRECT"= + +For one person to look directly at another and not acknowledge the other's +bow is such a breach of civility that only an unforgivable misdemeanor can +warrant the rebuke. Nor without the gravest cause may a lady "cut" a +gentleman. But there are no circumstances under which a gentleman may +"cut" any woman who, even by courtesy, can be called a lady. + +On the other hand, one must not confuse absent-mindedness, or a forgetful +memory with an intentional "cut." Anyone who is preoccupied is apt to pass +others without being aware of them, and without the least want of +friendly regard. Others who have bad memories forget even those by whom +they were much attracted. This does not excuse the bad memory, but it +explains the seeming rudeness. + +A "cut" is very different. It is a direct stare of blank refusal, and is +not only insulting to its victim but embarrassing to every witness. +Happily it is practically unknown in polite society. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ON THE STREET AND IN PUBLIC + + +=WALKING ON THE STREET= + +A gentleman, whether walking with two ladies or one, takes the curb side +of the pavement. He should never sandwich himself between them. + +A young man walking with a young woman should be careful that his manner +in no way draws attention to her or to himself. Too devoted a manner is +always conspicuous, and so is loud talking. Under no circumstances should +he take her arm, or grasp her by or above the elbow, and shove her here +and there, unless, of course, to save her from being run over! He should +not walk along hitting things with his stick. The small boy's delight in +drawing a stick along a picket fence should be curbed in the nursery! And +it is scarcely necessary to add that no gentleman walks along the street +chewing gum or, if he is walking with a lady, puffing a cigar or +cigarette. + +All people in the streets, or anywhere in public, should be careful not to +talk too loud. They should especially avoid pronouncing people's names, or +making personal remarks that may attract passing attention or give a clue +to themselves. + +One should never call out a name in public, unless it is absolutely +unavoidable. A young girl who was separated from her friends in a baseball +crowd had the presence of mind to put her hat on her parasol and lift it +above the people surrounding her so that her friends might find her. + +Do not attract attention to yourself in public. This is one of the +fundamental rules of good breeding. Shun conspicuous manners, conspicuous +clothes, a loud voice, staring at people, knocking into them, talking +across anyone--in a word do not attract attention to yourself. Do not +expose your private affairs, feelings or innermost thoughts in public. You +are knocking down the walls of your house when you do. + + +=GENTLEMEN AND BUNDLES= + +Nearly all books on etiquette insist that a "gentleman must offer to carry +a lady's bundles." Bundles do not suggest a lady in the first place, and +as for gentlemen and bundles!--they don't go together at all. Very neat +packages that could never without injury to their pride be designated as +"bundles" are different. Such, for instance, might be a square, smoothly +wrapped box of cigars, candy, or books. Also, a gentleman might carry +flowers, or a basket of fruit, or, in fact, any package that looks +tempting. He might even stagger under bags and suitcases, or a small +trunk--but carry a "bundle"? Not twice! And yet, many an unknowing woman, +sometimes a very young and pretty one, too, has asked a relative, a +neighbor, or an admirer, to carry something suggestive of a pillow, done +up in crinkled paper and odd lengths of joined string. Then she wonders +afterwards in unenlightened surprise why her cousin, or her neighbor, or +her admirer, who is one of the smartest men in town, never comes to see +her any more! + + +=A GENTLEMAN OFFERS HIS ARM= + +To an old lady or to an invalid a gentleman offers his arm if either of +them wants his support. Otherwise a lady no longer leans upon a gentleman +in the daytime, unless to cross a very crowded thoroughfare, or to be +helped over a rough piece of road, or under other impeding circumstances. +In accompanying a lady anywhere at night, whether down the steps of a +house, or from one building to another, or when walking a distance, a +gentleman always offers his arm. The reason is that in her thin +high-heeled slippers, and when it is too dark to see her foothold clearly, +she is likely to trip. + +Under any of these circumstances when he proffers his assistance, he +might say: "Don't you think you had better take my arm? You might trip." +Or--"Wouldn't it be easier if you took my arm along here? The going is +pretty bad." Otherwise the only occasions on which a gentleman offers his +arm to a lady are in taking her in at a formal dinner, or taking her in to +supper at a ball, or when he is an usher at a wedding. Even in walking +across a ballroom, except at a public ball in the grand march, it is the +present fashion for the younger generation to walk side by side, never arm +in arm. This, however, is merely an instance where etiquette and the +custom of the moment differ. Old-fashioned gentlemen still offer their +arm, and it is, and long will be, in accordance with etiquette to do so. +But etiquette does _not_ permit a gentleman to take a lady's arm! + +In seeing a lady to her carriage or motor, it is quite correct for a +gentleman to put his hand under her elbow to assist her; and in helping +her out he should alight first and offer her his hand. He should not hold +a parasol over her head unless momentarily while she searches in her +wrist-bag for something, or stops perhaps to put on or take off her glove, +or do anything that occupies both hands. With an umbrella the case is +different, especially in a sudden and driving rain, when she is often very +busily occupied in trying to hold "good" clothes out of the wet and a hat +on, as well. She may also, under these circumstances, take the gentleman's +arm, if the "going" is thereby made any easier. + + +=A LADY NEVER "ON THE LEFT"= + +The owner always sits on the right hand side of the rear seat of a +carriage or a motor, that is driven by a coachman or a chauffeur. If the +vehicle belongs to a lady, she should take her own place always, unless +she relinquishes it to a guest whose rank is above her own, such as that +of the wife of the President or the Governor. If a man is the owner, he +must, on the contrary, give a lady the right hand seat. Whether in a +private carriage, a car or a taxi, a lady must _never_ sit on a +gentleman's left; because according to European etiquette, a lady "on the +left" is _not_ a "lady." Although this etiquette is not strictly observed +in America, no gentleman should risk allowing even a single foreigner to +misinterpret a lady's position. + + +=AWKWARD QUESTIONS OF PAYMENT= + +It is becoming much less customary than it used to be for a gentleman to +offer to pay a lady's way. If in taking a ferry or a subway, a young woman +stops to buy magazines, chocolates, or other trifles, a young man +accompanying her usually offers to pay for them. She quite as usually +answers: "Don't bother, I have it!" and puts the change on the counter. It +would be awkward for him to protest, and bad taste to press the point. But +usually in small matters such as a subway fare, he pays for two. If he +invites her to go to a ball game, or to a matinee or to tea, he naturally +buys the tickets and any refreshment which they may have. + +Very often it happens that a young woman and a young man who are bound for +the same house party, at a few hours' distance from the place where they +both live, take the same train--either by accident or by pre-arrangement. +In this case the young woman should pay for every item of her journey. She +should not let her companion pay for her parlor car seat or for her +luncheon; nor should he, when they arrive at their destination, tip the +porter for carrying her bag. + +A gentleman who is by chance sitting next to a lady of his acquaintance on +a train or boat, should never think of offering to pay for her seat or for +anything she may buy from the vendor. + + +=THE "ESCORT"= + +Notwithstanding the fact that he is met, all dressed in his best store +clothes, with his "lady friend" leaning on his arm, in the pages of +counterfeit society novels and unauthoritative books on etiquette, there +is no such actual person known to good society--at least not in New York +or any great city--as an escort, he is not only unknown, but he is +impossible. + +In good society ladies do not go about under the "care of" gentlemen! It +is unheard of for a gentleman to "take" a young girl alone to a dance or +to dine or to parties of any description; nor can she accept his +sponsorship anywhere whatsoever. A well behaved young girl goes to public +dances only when properly chaperoned and to a private dance with her +mother or else accompanied by her maid, who waits for her the entire +evening in the dressing room. It is not only improper, it is impossible +for any man to take a lady to a party of any sort, to which she has not +been personally invited by the hostess. + +A lady may never be under the "protection" of a man _anywhere_! A young +girl is not even taken about by her betrothed. His friends send +invitations to her on his account, it is true, and, if possible, he +accompanies her, but correct invitations must be sent by them to her, or +she should not go. + +Older ladies are often thoughtless and say to a young man: "Bring your +fiancee to see me!" His answer should be: "Indeed, I'd love to any time +you telephone her"; or, "I know she'd love to come if you'd ask her." If +the lady stupidly persists in casually saying, "Do bring her," he must +smile and say lightly: "But I can't bring her without an invitation from +you." Or, he merely evades the issue, and does not bring her. + + +=THE RESTAURANT CHECK= + +Everyone has at some time or other been subjected to the awkward moment +when the waiter presents the check to the host. For a host to count up the +items is suggestive of parsimony, while not to look at them is +disconcertingly reckless, and to pay before their faces for what his +guests have eaten is embarrassing. Having the check presented to a hostess +when gentlemen are among her guests, is more unpleasant. Therefore, to +avoid this whole transaction, people who have not charge accounts, should +order the meal ahead, and at the same time pay for it in advance, +including the waiter's tip. Charge customers should make arrangements to +have the check presented to them elsewhere than at table. + + +=IN STORES OR SHOPS= + +Lack of consideration for those who in any capacity serve you, is always +an evidence of ill-breeding, as well as of inexcusable selfishness. +Occasionally a so-called "lady" who has nothing whatever to do but drive +uptown or down in her comfortable limousine, vents her irritability upon a +saleswoman at a crowded counter in a store, because she does not leave +other customers and wait immediately upon her. Then, perhaps, when the +article she asked for is not to be had, she complains to the floor-walker +about the saleswoman's stupidity! Or having nothing that she can think of +to occupy an empty hour on her hands, she demands that every sort of +material be dragged down from the shelves until, discovering that it is at +last time for her appointment, she yawns and leaves. + +Of course, on the other hand, there is the genuinely lethargic saleswoman +whose mind doesn't seem to register a single syllable that you have said +to her; who, with complete indifference to you and your preferences, +insists on showing what you distinctly say you do not want, and who caps +the climax by drawling "They" are wearing it this season! Does that sort +of saleswoman ever succeed in selling anything? Does anyone living buy +anything because someone, who knows nothing, tells another, who is often +an expert, what an indiscriminating "They" may be doing? That kind of a +saleswoman would try to tell Kreisler that "They" are not using violins +this season! + +There are always two sides to the case, of course, and it is a credit to +good manners that there is scarcely ever any friction in stores and shops +of the first class. Salesmen and women are usually persons who are both +patient and polite, and their customers are most often ladies in fact as +well as "by courtesy." Between those before and those behind the counters, +there has sprung up in many instances a relationship of mutual goodwill +and friendliness. It is, in fact, only the woman who is afraid that +someone may encroach upon her exceedingly insecure dignity, who shows +neither courtesy nor consideration to any except those whom she considers +it to her advantage to please. + + +=REGARD FOR OTHERS= + +Consideration for the rights and feelings of others is not merely a rule +for behavior in public but the very foundation upon which social life is +built. + +Rule of etiquette the first--which hundreds of others merely paraphrase or +explain or elaborate--is: + +Never do anything that is unpleasant to others. + +Never take more than your share--whether of the road in driving a car, of +chairs on a boat or seats on a train, or food at the table. + +People who picnic along the public highway leaving a clutter of greasy +paper and swill (not, a pretty name, but neither is it a pretty object!) +for other people to walk or drive past, and to make a breeding place for +flies, and furnish nourishment for rats, choose a disgusting way to repay +the land-owner for the liberty they took in temporarily occupying his +property. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE OPERA, THE THEATER, AND OTHER PUBLIC GATHERINGS + + +Excepting a religious ceremonial, there is no occasion where greater +dignity of manner is required of ladies and gentlemen both, than in +occupying a box at the opera. For a gentleman especially no other +etiquette is so exacting. + +In walking about in the foyer of the opera house, a gentleman leaves his +coat in the box--or in his orchestra chair--but he always wears his high +hat. The "collapsible" hat is for use in the seats rather than in the +boxes, but it can be worn perfectly well by a guest in the latter if he +hasn't a "silk" one. A gentleman must always be in full dress, tail coat, +white waistcoat, white tie and white gloves whether he is seated in the +orchestra or a box. He wears white gloves nowhere else except at a ball, +or when usher at a wedding. + +As people usually dine with their hostess before the opera, they arrive +together; the gentlemen assist the ladies to lay off their wraps, one of +the gentlemen (whichever is nearest) draws back the curtain dividing the +ante-room from the box, and the ladies enter, followed by the gentlemen, +the last of whom closes the curtain again. If there are two ladies besides +the hostess, the latter places her most distinguished or older guest in +the corner nearest the stage. The seat furthest from the stage is always +her own. The older guest takes her seat first, then the hostess takes her +place, whereupon the third lady goes forward in the center to the front of +the box, and stands until one of the gentlemen places a chair for her +between the other two. (The chairs are arranged in three rows, of one on +either side with an aisle left between.) + +One of the duties of the gentlemen is to see that the curtains at the back +of the box remain tightly closed, as the light from the ante-room shining +in the faces of others in the audience across the house is very +disagreeable to them. + +A gentleman never sits in the front row of a box, even though he is for a +time alone in it. + + +=AS TO VISITING= + +It is the custom for a gentleman who is a guest in one box to pay visits +to friends in other boxes during the entr'actes. He must visit none but +ladies of his acquaintance and must never enter a box in which he knows +only the gentlemen, and expect to be introduced to the ladies. If Arthur +Norman, for instance, wishes to present a gentleman to Mrs. Gilding in her +box at the opera, he must first ask her if he may bring his friend James +Dawson. (He would on no account speak of him as Mr. Dawson unless he is an +elderly person.) A lady's box at the opera is actually her house, and only +those who are acceptable as visitors in her house should ask to be +admitted. + +But it is quite correct for a gentleman to go into a stranger's box to +speak to a lady who is a friend of his, just as he would go to see her if +she were staying in a stranger's house. But he should not go into the box +of one he does not know, to speak to a lady with whom he has only a slight +acquaintance, since visits are not paid quite so casually to ladies who +are themselves visitors. Upon a gentleman's entering a box it is +obligatory for whoever is sitting behind the lady to whom the arriving +gentleman's visit is addressed, to relinquish his chair. Another point of +etiquette is that a gentleman must never leave the ladies of his own box +alone. Occasionally it happens that the gentlemen in Mrs. Gilding's box, +for instance, have all relinquished their places to visitors and have +themselves gone to Mrs. Worldly's or Mrs. Jones' or Mrs. Town's boxes. +Mrs. Gilding's guests must, from the vantage point of the Worldly, Jones +or Town boxes, keep a watchful eye on their hostess and instantly return +to her support when they see her visitors about to leave, even though the +ladies whom they are momentarily visiting be left to themselves. It is of +course the duty of the other gentlemen who came to the opera with Mrs. +Worldly, Mrs. Jones or Mrs. Town to hurry to them. + +A gentleman must never stay in any box that he does not belong in, after +the lowering of the lights for the curtain. Nor, in spite of cartoons to +the contrary, does good taste permit conversation during the performance +or during the overture. Box holders arriving late or leaving before the +final curtain do so as quietly as possible and always without speaking. + + +=A "BRILLIANT OPERA NIGHT"= + +A "brilliant opera night," which one often hears spoken of (meaning merely +that all the boxes are occupied, and that the ladies are more elaborately +dressed than usual) is generally a night when a leader of fashion such as +Mrs. Worldly, Mrs. Gilding, or Mrs. Toplofty, is giving a ball; and most +of the holders of the parterre boxes are in ball dresses, with an unusual +display of jewels. Or a house will be particularly "brilliant" if a very +great singer is appearing in a new role, or if a personage be present, as +when Marshal Joffre went to the Metropolitan. + + +=AFTER THE PERFORMANCE= + +One gentleman, at least, must wait in the carriage lobby until all the +ladies in his party have driven away. _Never_ under any circumstances may +"the last" gentleman leave a lady standing alone on the sidewalk. It is +the duty of the hostess to take all unattended ladies home who have not a +private conveyance of their own, but the obligation does not extend to +married couples or odd men. But if a married lady or widow has ordered her +own car to come for her, the odd gentleman waits with her until it +appears. It is then considerate for her to offer him a "lift," but it is +equally proper for her to thank him for waiting and drive off alone. + + +=AT THE THEATER= + +New Yorkers of highest fashion almost never occupy a box at the theater. +At the opera the world of fashion is to be seen in the parterre boxes (not +the first tier), and in boxes at some of the horse shows and at many +public charity balls and entertainments, but those in boxes at the theater +are usually "strangers" or "outsiders." + +No one can dispute that the best theater seats are those in the center of +the orchestra. A box in these days of hatlessness has nothing to recommend +it except that the people can sit in a group and gentlemen can go out +between the acts easily, but these advantages hardly make up for the +disadvantage to four or at least three out of the six box occupants who +see scarcely a slice of the stage. + + +=WILL YOU DINE AND GO TO THE PLAY?= + +There is no more popular or agreeable way of entertaining people than to +ask them to "dine and go to the play." The majority do not even prefer to +have "opera" substituted for "play," because those who care for serious +music are a minority compared with those who like the theater. + +If a bachelor gives a small theater party he usually takes his guests to +dine at the Fitz-Cherry or some other fashionable and "amusing" +restaurant, but a married couple living in their own house are more likely +to dine at home, unless they belong to a type prevalent in New York which +is "restaurant mad." The Gildings, in spite of the fact that their own +chef is the best there is, are much more apt to dine in a restaurant +before going to a play--or if they don't dine in a restaurant, they go to +one for supper afterwards. But the Normans, if they ask people to dine and +go to the theater, invariably dine at home. + +A theater party can of course be of any size, but six or eight is the +usual number, and the invitations are telephoned: "Will Mr. and Mrs. +Lovejoy dine with Mr. and Mrs. Norman at seven-thirty on Tuesday and go to +the play?" + +Or "Will Mr. and Mrs. Oldname dine with Mr. Clubwin Doe on Saturday at the +Toit d'Or and go to the play?" + +When Mr. and Mrs. Oldname "accept with pleasure" a second message is +given: "Dinner will be at 7.30." + +Mrs. Norman's guests go to her house. Mr. Doe's guests meet him in the +foyer of the Toit d'Or. But the guests at both dinners are taken to the +theater by their host. If a dinner is given by a hostess who has no car of +her own, a guest will sometimes ask: "Don't you want me to have the car +come back for us?" The hostess can either say to an intimate friend "Why, +yes, thank you very much," or to a more formal acquaintance, "No, thank +you just the same--I have ordered taxis." Or she can accept. There is no +rule beyond her own feelings in the matter. + +Mr. Doe takes his guests to the theater in taxis. The Normans, if only the +Lovejoys are dining with them, go in Mrs. Norman's little town car, but if +there are to be six or eight, the ladies go in her car and the gentlemen +follow in a taxi. (Unless Mrs. Worldly or Mrs. Gilding are in the party +and order their cars back.) + + +=TICKETS BOUGHT IN ADVANCE= + +Before inviting anyone to go to a particular play, a hostess must be sure +that good tickets are to be had. She should also try to get seats for a +play that is new; since it is dull to take people to something they have +already seen. This is not difficult in cities where new plays come to town +every week, but in New York, where the same ones run for a year or more, +it is often a choice between an old good one or a new one that is poor. If +intimate friends are coming, a hostess usually asks them what they want to +see and tries to get tickets accordingly. + +It is really unnecessary to add that one must never ask people to go to a +place of public amusement and then stand in line to get seats at the time +of the performance. + + +=GOING DOWN THE AISLE OF A THEATER= + +The host, or whichever gentleman has the tickets, (if there is no host, +the hostess usually hands them to one of the, gentlemen before leaving her +house), goes down the aisle first and gives the checks to the usher, and +the others follow in the order in which they are to sit and which the +hostess must direct. It is necessary that each knows who follows whom, +particularly if a theater party arrives after the curtain has gone up. If +the hostess "forgets," the guests always ask before trooping down the +aisle "How do you want us to sit?" For nothing is more awkward and stupid +than to block the aisle at the row where their seats are, while their +hostess "sorts them"; and worse yet, in her effort to be polite, sends the +ladies to their seats first and then lets the gentlemen stumble across +them to their own places. Going down the aisle is not a question of +precedence, but a question of seating. The one who is to sit eighth from +the aisle, whether a lady or a gentleman, goes first, then the seventh, +then the sixth, and if the gentleman with the checks is fifth, he goes in +his turn and the fourth follows him. + +If a gentleman and his wife go to the theater alone, the question as to +who goes down the aisle first depends on where the usher is. If the usher +takes the checks at the head of the aisle, she follows the usher. +Otherwise the gentleman goes first with the checks. When their places are +shown him, he stands aside for his wife to take her place first and then +he takes his. A lady never sits in the aisle seat if she is with a +gentleman. + + +=GOOD MANNERS AT THE THEATER= + +In passing across people who are seated, always face the stage and press +as close to the backs of the seats you are facing as you can. Remember +also not to drag anything across the heads of those sitting in front of +you. At the moving pictures, especially when it is dark and difficult to +see, a coat on an arm passing behind a chair can literally devastate the +hair-dressing of a lady occupying it. + +If you are obliged to cross in front of some one who gets up to let you +pass, say "Thank you," or "Thank you very much" or "I am very sorry." Do +_not_ say "Pardon _me_!" or "Beg pardon!" Though you can say "I beg your +pardon." That, however, would be more properly the expression to use if +you brushed your coat over their heads, or spilled water over them, or did +something to them for which you should actually _beg_ their pardon. But +"Beg pardon," which is an abbreviation, is one of the phrases never said +in best society. + +Gentlemen who want to go out after every act should always be sure to get +aisle seats. There are no greater theater pests than those who come back +after the curtain has gone up and temporarily snuff out the view of +everyone behind, as well as annoy those who are obliged to stand up and +let them by. + +Between the acts nearly all gentlemen go out and smoke at least once, but +those wedged in far from the aisle, who file out every time the curtain +drops are utterly lacking in consideration for others. If there are five +acts, they should at most go out for two entr'actes and even then be +careful to come back before the curtain goes up. + + +=VERY INCONSIDERATE TO GIGGLE AND TALK= + +Nothing shows less consideration for others than to whisper and rattle +programmes and giggle and even make audible remarks throughout a +performance. Very young people love to go to the theater in droves called +theater parties and absolutely ruin the evening for others who happen to +sit in front of them. If Mary and Johnny and Susy and Tommy want to talk +and giggle, why not arrange chairs in rows for them in a drawing-room, +turn on a phonograph as an accompaniment and let them sit there and +chatter! + +If those behind you insist on talking it is never good policy to turn +around and glare. If you are young they pay no attention, and if you are +older--most young people think an angry older person the funniest sight +on earth! The small boy throws a snowball at an elderly gentleman for no +other reason! The only thing you can do is to say amiably: "I'm sorry, but +I can't hear anything while you talk." If they still persist, you can ask +an usher to call the manager. + +The sentimental may as well realize that every word said above a whisper +is easily heard by those sitting directly in front, and those who tell +family or other private affairs might do well to remember this also. + +As a matter of fact, comparatively few people are ever anything but well +behaved. Those who arrive late and stand long, leisurely removing their +wraps, and who insist on laughing and talking are rarely encountered; most +people take their seats as quietly and quickly as they possibly can, and +are quite as much interested in the play and therefore as attentive and +quiet as you are. A very annoying person at the "movies" is one who reads +every "caption" out loud. + + +=PROPER THEATER CLOTHES= + +At the evening performance in New York a lady wears a dinner dress; a +gentleman a dinner coat, often called a Tuxedo. Full dress is not correct, +but those going afterwards to a ball can perfectly well go to the theater +first if they do not make themselves conspicuous. A lady in a ball dress +and many jewels should avoid elaborate hair ornamentation and must keep +her wrap, or at least a sufficiently opaque scarf, about her shoulders to +avoid attracting people's attention. A gentleman in full dress is not +conspicuous. + +And on the subject of theater dress it might be tentatively remarked that +prinking and "making up" in public are all part of an age which can not +see fun in a farce without bedroom scenes and actors in pajamas, and +actresses running about in negliges with their hair down. An audience +which night after night watches people dressing and undressing probably +gets into an unconscious habit of dressing or prinking itself. In other +days it was always thought that so much as to adjust a hat-pin or glance +in a glass was lack of breeding. Every well brought up young woman was +taught that she must finish dressing in her bedchamber. But to-day young +women in theaters, restaurants, and other public places, are continually +studying their reflection in little mirrors and patting their hair and +powdering their noses and fixing this or adjusting that in a way that in +Mrs. Oldname's girlhood would have absolutely barred them from good +society; nor can Mrs. Worldly or Mrs. Oldname be imagined "preening" and +"prinking" anywhere. They dress as carefully and as beautifully as +possible, but when they turn away from the mirrors in their dressing rooms +they never look in a glass or "take note of their appearance" until they +dress again. And it must be granted that Lucy Gilding, Constance Style, +Celia Lovejoy, Mary Smartlington and the other well-bred members of the +younger set do not put finishing touches on their faces in public--as yet! + + +=THE COURTESY OF SENDING TICKETS EARLY= + +Most people are at times "obliged" to take tickets for various charity +entertainments--balls, theatricals, concerts or pageants--to which, if +they do not care to go themselves, they give away their tickets. Those who +intend giving tickets should remember that a message, "Can you use two +tickets for the Russian ballet to-night?" sent at seven o'clock that same +evening, after the Lovejoys have settled themselves for an evening at home +(Celia having decided not to curl her hair and Donald having that morning +sent his only dinner coat to be re-faced) can not give the same pleasure +that their earlier offer would have given. An opera box sent on the +morning of the opera is worse, since to find four music-loving people to +fill it on such short notice at the height of the season is an undertaking +that few care to attempt. + + +=A BIG THEATER PARTY= + +A big theater party is one of the favorite entertainments given for a +debutante. If fifty or more are to be asked, invitations are sometimes +engraved. + + Mrs. Toplofty + + requests the pleasure of + + [_Name of guest is written on this line._] + + company at the theater and a small dance afterward + + in honor of her great-niece + + Miss Millicent Gilding + + on Tuesday the sixth of January + + at half past eight o'clock + + R.s.v.p. + +But--and usually--the "general utility" invitation (see page 118) is +filled in, as follows: + + [HW: To meet Miss Millicent Gilding] + + Mrs. Toplofty + + requests the pleasure of + + [HW: Miss Rosalie Gray's] + + company at [HW: the Theater and at a dance] + + on [HW: Tuesday the sixth of January] + + at [HW: 8:15] + + R.s.v.p. + +Or notes in either wording above are written by hand. + +All those who accept have a ticket sent them. Each ticket sent a debutante +is accompanied by a visiting card on which is written: + + "Be in the lobby of the Comedy Theater at 8.15. Order your motor + to come for you at 010 Fifth Avenue at 1 A.M." + +On the evening of the theater party, Mrs. Toplofty herself stands in the +lobby to receive the guests. As soon as any who are to sit next to each +other have arrived, they are sent into the theater; each gives her (or +his) ticket to an usher and sits in the place alloted to her (or him). It +is well for the hostess to have a seat plan for her own use in case +thoughtless young people mix their tickets all up and hand them to an +usher in a bunch! And yet--if they do mix themselves to their own +satisfaction, she would better "leave them" than attempt to disturb a plan +that may have had more method in it than madness. + +When the last young girl has arrived, Mrs. Toplofty goes into the theater +herself (she does not bother to wait for any boys), and in this one +instance she very likely sits in a stage box so as to "keep her eye on +them," and with her she has two or three of her own friends. + +After the theater, big motor busses drive them all either to the house of +the hostess or to a hotel for supper and to dance. If they go to a hotel, +a small ballroom must be engaged and the dance is a private one; it would +be considered out of place to take a lot of very young people to a public +cabaret. + +Carelessly chaperoned young girls are sometimes, it is true, seen in very +questionable places because some of the so-called dancing restaurants are +perfectly fit and proper for them to go to; many other places however, are +not, and for the sake of general appearances it is safer to make it a rule +that no very young girl should go anywhere after the theater except to a +private house or a private dance or ball. + +Older people, on the other hand, very often go for a supper to one of the +cabarets for which New York is famous (or infamous?), or perhaps go to +watch a vaudeville performance at midnight, or dance, or do both together. + +Others, if they are among the great majority of "quiet" people, go home +after the theater, especially if they have dined with their hostess (or +host) before the play. + + +=DON'T BE LATE= + +When you are dining before going to the opera or theater you must arrive +on the stroke of the hour for which you are asked; it is one occasion when +it is inexcusable to be late. + +In accepting an invitation for lunch or dinner after which you are going +to a game, or any sort of performance, you must not be late! Nothing is +more unfair to others who are keen about whatever it is you are going to +see, than to make them miss the beginning of a performance through your +thoughtless selfishness. + +For this reason box-holders who are music-lovers do not ask guests who +have the "late habit" to dine before the opera, because experience has +taught them they will miss the overture and most of the first act if they +do. Those, on the other hand, who care nothing for music and go to the +opera to see people and be seen, seldom go until most if not all of the +first act is over. But these in turn might give music-loving guests their +choice of going alone in time for the overture and waiting for them in the +box at the opera, or having the pleasure of dining with their hostess but +missing most of the first part. + + +=AT GAMES, THE CIRCUS OR ELSEWHERE= + +Considerate and polite behavior by each member of an audience is the same +everywhere. At outdoor games, or at the circus, it is not necessary to +stop talking. In fact, a good deal of noise is not out of the way in +"rooting" at a match, and a circus band does not demand silence in order +to appreciate its cheerful blare. One very great annoyance in open air +gatherings is cigar smoke when blown directly in one's face, or worse yet +the smoke from a smouldering cigar. It is almost worthy of a study in air +currents to discover why with plenty of space all around, a tiny column of +smoke will make straight for the nostrils of the very one most nauseated +by it! + +The only other annoyance met with at ball games or parades or wherever +people occupy seats on the grandstand, is when some few in front get +excited and insist on standing up. If those in front stand--those behind +naturally have to! Generally people call out "down in front." If they +won't stay "down," then all those behind have to stay "up." Also umbrellas +and parasols entirely blot out the view of those behind. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONVERSATION + + +=NEED OF RECIPROCITY= + +Ideal conversation should be a matter of equal give and take, but too +often it is all "take." The voluble talker--or chatterer--rides his own +hobby straight through the hours without giving anyone else, who might +also like to say something, a chance to do other than exhaustedly await +the turn that never comes. Once in a while--a very long while--one meets a +brilliant person whose talk is a delight; or still more rarely a wit who +manipulates every ordinary topic with the agility of a sleight-of-hand +performer, to the ever increasing rapture of his listeners. + +But as a rule the man who has been led to believe that he is a brilliant +and interesting talker has been led to make himself a rapacious pest. No +conversation is possible between others whose ears are within reach of his +ponderous voice; anecdotes, long-winded stories, dramatic and pathetic, +stock his repertoire; but worst of all are his humorous yarns at which he +laughs uproariously though every one else grows solemn and more solemn. + +There is a simple rule, by which if one is a voluble chatterer (to be a +good talker necessitates a good mind) one can at least refrain from being +a pest or a bore. And the rule is merely, to stop and think. + + +="THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK"= + +Nearly all the faults or mistakes in conversation are caused by not +thinking. For instance, a first rule for behavior in society is: "Try to +do and say those things only which will be agreeable to others." Yet how +many people, who really know better, people who are perfectly capable of +intelligent understanding if they didn't let their brains remain asleep +or locked tight, go night after night to dinner parties, day after day to +other social gatherings, and absent-mindedly prate about this or that +without ever taking the trouble to _think_ what they are saying and to +whom they are saying it! Would a young mother describe twenty or thirty +cunning tricks and sayings of the baby to a bachelor who has been +helplessly put beside her at dinner if she _thought_? She would know very +well, alas! that not even a very dear friend would really care for more +than a _hors d'oeuvre_ of the subject, at the board of general +conversation. + +The older woman is even worse, unless something occurs (often when it is +too late) to make her wake up and realize that she not only bores her +hearers but prejudices everyone against her children by the unrestraint of +her own praise. The daughter who is continually lauded as the most +captivating and beautiful girl in the world, seems to the wearied +perceptions of enforced listeners annoying and plain. In the same way the +"magnificent" son is handicapped by his mother's--or his +father's--overweening pride and love in exact proportion to its displayed +intensity. On the other hand, the neglected wife, the unappreciated +husband, the misunderstood child, takes on a glamor in the eyes of others +equally out of proportion. That great love has seldom perfect wisdom is +one of the great tragedies in the drama of life. In the case of the +overloving wife or mother, some one should love _her_ enough to make her +_stop and think_ that her loving praise is not merely a question of boring +her hearers but of handicapping unfairly those for whom she would gladly +lay down her life--and yet few would have the courage to point out to her +that she would far better lay down her tongue. + +The cynics say that those who take part in social conversation are bound +to be either the bores or the bored; and that which you choose to be, is a +mere matter of selection. And there must be occasions in the life of +everyone when the cynics seem to be right; the man of affairs who, sitting +next to an attractive looking young woman, is regaled throughout dinner +with the detailed accomplishments of the young woman's husband; the woman +of intellect who must listen with interest to the droolings of an +especially prosy man who holds forth on the super-everything of his own +possessions, can not very well consider that the evening was worth +dressing, sitting up, and going out for. + +People who talk too easily are apt to talk too much, and at times +imprudently, and those with vivid imagination are often unreliable in +their statements. On the other hand the "man of silence" who never speaks +except when he has something "worth while" to say, is apt to wear well +among his intimates, but is not likely to add much to the gaiety of a +party. + +Try not to repeat yourself; either by telling the same story again and +again or by going back over details of your narrative that seemed +especially to interest or amuse your hearer. Many things are of interest +when briefly told and for the first time; _nothing_ interests when too +long dwelt upon; little interests that is told a second time. The +exception is something very pleasant that you have heard about A. or more +especially A.'s child, which having already told A. you can then tell B., +and later C. in A.'s presence. Never do this as a habit, however, and +never drag the incident into the conversation merely to flatter A., since +if A. is a person of taste, he will be far more apt to resent than be +pleased by flattery that borders on the fulsome. + +Be careful not to let amiable discussion turn into contradiction and +argument. The tactful person keeps his prejudices to himself and even when +involved in a discussion says quietly "No. I don't think I agree with you" +or "It seems to me thus and so." One who is well-bred never says "You are +wrong!" or "Nothing of the kind!" If he finds another's opinion utterly +opposed to his own, he switches to another subject for a pleasanter +channel of conversation. + +When some one is talking to you, it is inconsiderate to keep repeating +"What did you say?" Those who are deaf are often, obliged to ask that a +sentence be repeated. Otherwise their irrelevant answers would make them +appear half-witted. But countless persons with perfectly good hearing say +"What?" from force of habit and careless inattention. + + +=THE GIFT OF HUMOR= + +The joy of joys is the person of light but unmalicious humor. If you know +any one who is gay, beguiling and amusing, you will, if you are wise, do +everything you can to make him prefer your house and your table to any +other; for where he is, the successful party is also. What he says is of +no matter, it is the twist he gives to it, the intonation, the personality +he puts into his quip or retort or observation that delights his hearers, +and in his case the ordinary rules do not apply. + +Eugene Field could tell a group of people that it had rained to-day and +would probably rain to-morrow, and make everyone burst into laughter--or +tears if he chose--according to the way it was said. But the ordinary rest +of us must, if we would be thought sympathetic, intelligent or agreeable, +"go fishing." + + +=GOING FISHING FOR TOPICS= + +The charming talker is neither more nor less than a fisherman. +(Fisherwoman rather, since in America women make more effort to be +agreeable than men do.) Sitting next to a stranger she wonders which "fly" +she had better choose to interest him. She offers one topic; not much of a +nibble. So she tries another or perhaps a third before he "rises" to the +bait. + + +=THE DOOR SLAMMERS= + +There are people whose idea of conversation is contradiction and flat +statement. Finding yourself next to one of these, you venture: + +"Have you seen any good plays lately?" + +"No, hate the theater." + +"Which team are you for in the series?" + +"Neither. Only an idiot could be interested in baseball." + +"Country must have a good many idiots!" mockingly. + +"Obviously it has." Full stop. In desperation you veer to the personal. + +"I've never seen Mrs. Bobo Gilding as beautiful as she is to-night." + +"Nothing beautiful about her. As for the name 'Bobo,' it's asinine." + +"Oh, it's just one of those children's names that stick sometimes for +life." + +"Perfect rot. Ought to be called by his name," etc. + +Another, not very different in type though different in method, is the +self-appointed instructor whose proper place is on the lecture platform, +not at a dinner table. + +"The earliest coins struck in the Peloponnesus were stamped on one side +only; their alloy----" etc. + +Another is the expounder of the obvious: "Have you ever noticed," says he, +deeply thinking, "how people's tastes differ?" + +Then there is the vulgarian of fulsome compliment: "Why are you so +beautiful? It is not fair to the others----" and so on. + + +=TACTLESS BLUNDERERS= + +Tactless people are also legion. The means-to-be-agreeable elderly man +says to a passee acquaintance, "Twenty years ago you were the prettiest +woman in town"; or in the pleasantest tone of voice to one whose only son +has married. "Why is it, do you suppose, that young wives always dislike +their mothers-in-law?" + +If you have any ambition to be sought after in society you must not talk +about the unattractiveness of old age to the elderly, about the joys of +dancing and skating to the lame, or about the advantages of ancestry to +the self-made. It is also dangerous, as well as needlessly unkind, to +ridicule or criticize others, especially for what they can't help. If a +young woman's familiar or otherwise lax behavior deserves censure, a +casual unflattering remark may not add to your own popularity if your +listener is a relative, but you can at least, without being shamefaced, +stand by your guns. On the other hand to say needlessly "What an ugly +girl!" or "What a half-wit that boy is!" can be of no value except in +drawing attention to your own tactlessness. + +The young girl who admired her own facile adjectives said to a casual +acquaintance: "How _can_ you go about with that moth-eaten, squint-eyed, +bag of a girl!" "Because," answered the youth whom she had intended to +dazzle, "the lady of your flattering epithets happens to be my sister." + +It is scarcely necessary to say that one whose tactless remarks ride +rough-shod over the feelings of others, is not welcomed by many. + + +=THE BORE= + +A bore is said to be "one who talks about himself when you want to talk +about yourself!" which is superficially true enough, but a bore might more +accurately be described as one who is interested in what does not interest +you, and insists that you share his enthusiasm, in spite of your +disinclination. To the bore life holds no dullness; every subject is of +unending delight. A story told for the thousandth time has not lost its +thrill; every tiresome detail is held up and turned about as a morsel of +delectableness; to him each pea in a pod differs from another with the +entrancing variety that artists find in tropical sunsets. + +On the other hand, to be bored is a bad habit, and one only too easy to +fall into. As a matter of fact, it is impossible, almost, to meet anyone +who has not _something_ of interest to tell you if you are but clever +enough yourself to find out what it is. There are certain always +delightful people who refuse to be bored. Their attitude is that no +subject need ever be utterly uninteresting, so long as it is discussed for +the first time. Repetition alone is deadly dull. Besides, what is the +matter with trying to be agreeable yourself? Not _too_ agreeable. Alas! +it is true: "Be polite to bores and so shall you have bores always round +about you." Furthermore, there is no reason why you should be bored when +you can be otherwise. But if you find yourself sitting in the hedgerow +with nothing but weeds, there is no reason for shutting your eyes and +seeing nothing, instead of finding what beauty you may in the weeds. To +put it cynically, life is too short to waste it in drawing blanks. +Therefore, it is up to you to find as many pictures to put on your blank +pages as possible. + + +=A FEW IMPORTANT DETAILS OF SPEECH IN CONVERSATION= + +Unless you wish to stamp yourself a person who has never been out of +"provincial" society, never speak of your husband as "Mr." except to an +inferior. Mrs. Worldly for instance in talking with a stranger would say +"my husband," and to a friend, meaning one not only whom she calls by her +first name, but anyone on her "dinner list," she says, "Dick thought the +play amusing" or "Dick said----". This does not give her listener the +privilege of calling him "Dick." The listener in return speaks of her own +husband as "Tom" even if he is seventy--unless her hearer is a very young +person (either man or woman), when she would say "my husband." Never "Mr. +Older." To call your husband Mr. means that you consider the person you +are talking to, beneath you in station. Mr. Worldly in the same way speaks +of Mrs. Worldly as "my wife" to a gentleman, or "Edith" in speaking to a +lady. _Always._ + +In speaking about other people, one says "Mrs.," "Miss" or "Mr." as the +case may be. It is bad form to go about saying "Edith Worldly" or "Ethel +Norman" to those who do not call them Edith or Ethel, and to speak thus +familiarly of one whom you do not call by her first name, is unforgivable. +It is also effrontery for a younger person to call an older by her or his +first name, without being asked to do so. Only a very underbred, +thick-skinned person would attempt it. + +Also you must not take your conversation "out of the drawing-room." +Operations, ills or personal blemishes, details and appurtenances of the +dressing-room, for instance, are neither suitable nor pleasant topics, nor +are personal jokes in good taste. + + +=THE "OMNISCIENCE" OF THE VERY RICH= + +Why a man, because he has millions, should assume that they confer +omniscience in all branches of knowledge, is something which may be left +to the psychologist to answer, but most of those thrown much in contact +with millionaires will agree that an attitude of infallibility is typical +of a fair majority. + +A professor who has devoted his life to a subject modestly makes a +statement. "You are all wrong," says the man of millions, "It is this +way----". As a connoisseur he seems to think that because he can pay for +anything he fancies, he is accredited expert as well as potential owner. +Topics he does not care for are "bosh," those which he has a smattering +of, he simply appropriates; his prejudices are, in his opinion, expert +criticism; his taste impeccable; his judgment infallible; and to him the +world is a pleasance built for his sole pleasuring. But to the rest of us +who also have to live in it with as much harmony as we can, such persons +are certainly elephants at large in the garden. We can sometimes induce +them to pass through gently, but they are just as likely at any moment to +pull up our fences and push the house itself over on our defenseless +heads. + +There are countless others of course, very often the richest of all, who +are authoritative in all they profess, who are experts and connoisseurs, +who are human and helpful and above everything respecters of the garden +enclosure of others. + + +=DANGERS TO BE AVOIDED= + +In conversation the dangers are very much the same as those to be avoided +in writing letters. Talk about things which you think will be agreeable to +your hearer. Don't dilate on ills, misfortune, or other unpleasantnesses. +The one in greatest danger of making enemies is the man or woman of +brilliant wit. If sharp, wit is apt to produce a feeling of mistrust even +while it stimulates. Furthermore the applause which follows every witty +sally becomes in time breath to the nostrils, and perfectly +well-intentioned, people, who mean to say nothing unkind, in the flash of +a second "see a point," and in the next second, score it with no more +power to resist than a drug addict can resist a dose put into his hand! + +The mimic is a joy to his present company, but the eccentric mannerism of +one is much easier to imitate than the charm of another, and the subjects +of the habitual mimic are all too apt to become his enemies. + +You need not, however, be dull because you refrain from the rank habit of +a critical attitude, which like a weed will grow all over the place if you +let it have half a chance. A very good resolve to make and keep, if you +would also keep any friends you make, is never to speak of anyone without, +in imagination, having them overhear what you say. One often hears the +exclamation "I would say it to her face!" At least be very sure that this +is true, and not a braggart's phrase and then--nine times out of ten think +better of it and refrain. Preaching is all very well in a text-book, +schoolroom or pulpit, but it has no place in society. Society is supposed +to be a pleasant place; telling people disagreeable things to their faces +or behind their backs is _not_ a pleasant occupation. + +Do not be too apparently clever if you would be popular. The cleverest +woman is she who, in talking to a man, makes _him_ seem clever. This was +Mme. Recamier's great charm. + + +=A FEW MAXIMS FOR THOSE WHO TALK TOO MUCH--AND EASILY!= + +The faults of commission are far more serious than those of omission; +regrets are seldom for what you left unsaid. + +The chatterer reveals every corner of his shallow mind; one who keeps +silent can not have his depth plumbed. + +Don't pretend to know more than you do. To say you have read a book and +then seemingly to understand nothing of what you have read, proves you a +half-wit. Only the very small mind hesitates to say "I don't know." + +Above all, stop and _think_ what you are saying! This is really the first, +last and only rule. If you "stop" you can't chatter or expound or flounder +ceaselessly, and if you _think_, you will find a topic and a manner of +presenting your topic so that your neighbor will be interested rather than +long-suffering. + +Remember also that the sympathetic (not apathetic) listener is the delight +of delights. The person who looks glad to see you, who is seemingly eager +for your news, or enthralled with your conversation; who looks at you with +a kindling of the face, and gives you spontaneous and undivided attention, +is the one to whom the palm for the art of conversation would undoubtedly +be awarded. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WORDS, PHRASES AND PRONUNCIATION + + +=PHRASES AVOIDED IN GOOD SOCIETY= + +It is difficult to explain why well-bred people avoid certain words and +expressions that are admitted by etymology and grammar. So it must be +merely stated that they have and undoubtedly always will avoid them. +Moreover, this choice of expression is not set forth in any printed guide +or book on English, though it is followed in all literature. + +To liken Best Society to a fraternity, with the avoidance of certain +seemingly unimportant words as the sign of recognition, is not a fantastic +simile. People of the fashionable world invariably use certain expressions +and instinctively avoid others; therefore when a stranger uses an +"avoided" one he proclaims that he "does not belong," exactly as a +pretended Freemason proclaims himself an "outsider" by giving the wrong +"grip"--or whatever it is by which Brother Masons recognize one another. + +People of position are people of position the world over--and by their +speech are most readily known. Appearance on the other hand often passes +muster. A "show-girl" may be lovely to look at as she stands in a +seemingly unstudied position and in perfect clothes. But let her say "My +Gawd!" or "Wouldn't that jar you!" and where is her loveliness then? + +And yet, and this is the difficult part of the subject to make clear, the +most vulgar slang like that quoted above, is scarcely worse than the +attempted elegance which those unused to good society imagine to be the +evidence of cultivation. + +People who say "I come," and "I seen it," and "I done it" prove by their +lack of grammar that they had little education in their youth. +Unfortunate, very; but they may at the same time be brilliant, exceptional +characters, loved by everyone who knows them, because they are what they +seem and nothing else. But the caricature "lady" with the comic picture +"society manner" who says "Pardon _me_" and talks of "retiring," and +"residing," and "desiring," and "being acquainted with," and "attending" +this and that with "her escort," and curls her little finger over the +handle of her teacup, and prates of "culture," does not belong to Best +Society, and _never_ will! The offense of pretentiousness is committed +oftener perhaps by women than by men, who are usually more natural and +direct. A genuine, sincere, kindly American man--or woman--can go anywhere +and be welcomed by everyone, provided of course, that he is a man of +ability and intellect. One finds him all over the world, neither aping the +manners of others nor treading on the sensibilities of those less +fortunate than himself. + +Occasionally too, there appears in Best Society a provincial in whose +conversation is perceptible the influence of much reading of the Bible. +Such are seldom if ever stilted or pompous or long-worded, but are +invariably distinguished for the simplicity and dignity of their English. + +There is no better way to cultivate taste in words, than by constantly +reading the best English. None of the words and expressions which are +taboo in good society will be found in books of proved literary standing. +But it must not be forgotten that there can be a vast difference between +literary standing and popularity, and that many of the "best sellers" have +no literary merit whatsoever. + +To be able to separate best English from merely good English needs a long +process of special education, but to recognize bad English one need merely +skim through a page of a book, and if a single expression in the left-hand +column following can be found (unless purposely quoted in illustration of +vulgarity) it is quite certain that the author neither writes best English +nor belongs to Best Society. + + NEVER SAY: CORRECT FORM: + In our residence we retire At our house we go to bed + early (or arise) early (or get up) + + I desire to purchase I should like to buy + + Make you acquainted with (See Introductions) + + Pardon _me_! I beg your pardon. Or, + Excuse me! Or, sorry! + + Lovely food Good food + + Elegant home Beautiful house--or place + + A stylish dresser She dresses well, or she + wears lovely clothes + + Charmed! or Pleased to How do you do! + meet you! + + Attended Went to + + I trust I am not trespassing I hope I am not in the way + (unless trespassing on private + property is actually + meant) + + Request (meaning ask) Used only in the third person + in formal written invitations. + + Will you accord me permission? Will you let me? or May I? + + Permit me to assist you Let me help you + + Brainy Brilliant or clever + + I presume I suppose + + Tendered him a banquet Gave him a dinner + + Converse Talk + + Partook of liquid refreshment Had something to drink + + Perform ablutions Wash + + A song entitled Called (proper if used in + legal sense) + + I will ascertain I will find out + + Residence or mansion House, or big house + + In the home In some one's house or At + home + + Phone, photo, auto Telephone, photograph, + automobile + +"Tintinnabulary summons," meaning bell, and "Bovine continuation," meaning +cow's tail, are more amusing than offensive, but they illustrate the +theory of bad style that is pretentious. + +As examples of the very worst offenses that can be committed, the +following are offered: + +"Pray, accept my thanks for the flattering ovation you have tendered me." + +"Yes," says the preposterous bride, "I am the recipient of many admired +and highly prized gifts." + +"Will you permit me to recall myself to you?" + +Speaking of bridesmaids as "pretty servitors," "dispensing hospitality," +asking any one to "step this way." + +Many other expressions are provincial and one who seeks purity of speech +should, if possible, avoid them, but as "offenses" they are minor: + +Reckon, guess, calculate, or figure, meaning think. + +Allow, meaning agree. + +Folks, meaning family. + +Cute, meaning pretty or winsome. + +Well, I declare! 'Pon my word! + +Box party, meaning sitting in a box at the theater. + +Visiting with, meaning talking to. + +There are certain words which have been singled out and misused by the +undiscriminating until their value is destroyed. Long ago "elegant" was +turned from a word denoting the essence of refinement and beauty, into +gaudy trumpery. "Refined" is on the verge. But the pariah of the language +is culture! A word rarely used by those who truly possess it, but so +constantly misused by those who understand nothing of its meaning, that it +is becoming a synonym for vulgarity and imitation. To speak of the proper +use of a finger bowl or the ability to introduce two people without a +blunder as being "evidence of culture of the highest degree" is precisely +as though evidence of highest education were claimed for who ever can do +sums in addition, and read words of one syllable. Culture in its true +meaning is widest possible education, _plus_ especial refinement and +taste. + +The fact that slang is apt and forceful makes its use irresistibly +tempting. Coarse or profane slang is beside the mark, but "flivver," +"taxi," the "movies," "deadly" (meaning dull), "feeling fit," "feeling +blue," "grafter," a "fake," "grouch," "hunch" and "right o!" are typical +of words that it would make our spoken language stilted to exclude. + +All colloquial expressions are little foxes that spoil the grapes of +perfect diction, but they are very little foxes; it is the false elegance +of stupid pretentiousness that is an annihilating blight which destroys +root and vine. + +In the choice of words, we can hardly find a better guide than the lines +of Alexander Pope: + + "In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; + Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: + Be not the first by whom the new are tried, + Nor yet the last to lay the old aside." + + +=PRONUNCIATION= + +Traits of pronunciation which are typical of whole sections of the +country, or accents inherited from European parents must not be confused +with crude pronunciations that have their origin in illiteracy. A +gentleman of Irish blood may have a brogue as rich as plum cake, or +another's accent be soft Southern or flat New England, or rolling +Western; and to each of these the utterance of the others may sound too +flat, too soft, too harsh, too refined, or drawled, or clipped short, but +not uncultivated. + +To a New York ear, which ought to be fairly unbiased since the New York +accent is a composite of all accents, English women chirrup and twitter. +But the beautifully modulated, clear-clipped enunciation of a cultivated +Englishman, one who can move his jaws and not swallow his words whole, +comes as near to perfection in English as the diction of the Comedie +Francaise comes to perfection in French. + +The Boston accent is very crisp and in places suggestive of the best +English but the vowels are so curiously flattened that the speech has a +saltless effect. There is no rhyming word as flat as the way they say +"heart"--"haht." And "bone" and "coat"--"bawn," "cawt," to rhyme with awe! + +Then South, there is too much salt--rather too much sugar. Every one's +mouth seems full of it, with "I" turned to "ah" and every staccato a +drawl. But the voices are full of sweetness and music unknown north of the +Potomac. + +The Pennsylvania burr is perhaps the mother of the Western one. It is +strong enough to have mothered all the r's in the wor-r-rld! +Philadelphia's "haow" and "caow" for "how" and "cow," and "me" for "my" is +quite as bad as the "water-r" and "thot" of the West. + +N'Yawk is supposed to say "yeh" and "Omurica" and "Toosdeh," and +"puddin'." Probably five per cent. of it does, but as a whole it has no +accent, since it is a composite of all in one. + +In best New York society there is perhaps a generally accepted +pronunciation which seems chiefly an elimination of the accents of other +sections. Probably that is what all people think of their own +pronunciation. Or do they not know, whether their inflection is right or +wrong? Nothing should be simpler to determine. If they pronounce according +to a standard dictionary, they are correct; if they don't, they have an +"accent" or are ignorant; it is for them to determine which. Such +differences as between saying wash or wawsh, ad_ver_tisement or +adver_tise_ment are of small importance. But no one who makes the least +pretence of being a person of education says: kep for kept, genelmun or +gempmun or laydee, vawde-vil, or eye-talian. + + +=HOW TO CULTIVATE AN AGREEABLE SPEECH= + +First of all, remember that while affectation is odious, crudeness must be +overcome. A low voice is always pleasing, not whispered or murmured, but +low in pitch. Do not talk at the top of your head, nor at the top of your +lungs. Do not slur whole sentences together; on the other hand, do not +pronounce as though each syllable were a separate tongue and lip exercise. + +As a nation we do not talk so much too fast, as too loud. Tens of +thousands twang and slur and shout and burr! Many of us drawl and many +others of us race tongues and breath at full speed, but, as already said, +the speed of our speech does not matter so much. Pitch of voice matters +very much and so does pronunciation--enunciation is not so +essential--except to one who speaks in public. + +Enunciation means the articulation of whatever you have to say distinctly +and clearly. Pronunciation is the proper sounding of consonants, vowels +and the accentuation of each syllable. + +There is no better way to cultivate a perfect pronunciation; apart from +association with cultivated people, than by getting a small pronouncing +dictionary of words in ordinary use, and reading it word by word, marking +and studying any that you use frequently and mispronounce. When you know +them, then read any book at random slowly aloud to yourself, very +carefully pronouncing each word. The consciousness of this exercise may +make you stilted in conversation at first, but by and by the "sense" or +"impulse" to speak correctly will come. + +This is a method that has been followed by many men handicapped in youth +through lack of education, who have become prominent in public life, and +by many women, who likewise handicapped by circumstances, have not only +made possible a creditable position for themselves, but have then given +their children the inestimable advantage of learning their mother tongue +correctly at their mother's knee. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ONE'S POSITION IN THE COMMUNITY + + +=THE CHOICE= + +First of all, it is necessary to decide what one's personal idea of +position is, whether this word suggests merely a social one, comprising a +large or an exclusive acquaintance and leadership in social gaiety, or +position established upon the foundation of communal consequence, which +may, or may not, include great social gaiety. In other words, you who are +establishing yourself, either as a young husband or a stranger, would you, +if you could have your wish granted by a genie, choose to have the +populace look upon you askance and in awe, because of your wealth and +elegance, or would you wish to be loved, not as a power conferring favors +which belong really to the first picture, but as a fellow-being with an +understanding heart? The granting of either wish is not a bit beyond the +possibilities of anyone. It is merely a question of depositing securities +of value in the bank of life. + + +=THE BANK OF LIFE= + +Life, whether social or business, is a bank in which you deposit certain +funds of character, intellect and heart; or other funds of egotism, +hard-heartedness and unconcern; or deposit--nothing! And the bank honors +your deposit, and no more. In other words, you can draw nothing out but +what you have put in. + +If your community is to give you admiration and honor, it is merely +necessary to be admirable and honorable. The more you put in, the more +will be paid out to you. It is too trite to put on paper! But it is +astonishing, isn't it, how many people who are depositing nothing +whatever, expect to be paid in admiration and respect? + +A man of really high position is always a great citizen first and above +all. Otherwise he is a hollow puppet whether he is a millionaire or has +scarcely a dime to bless himself with. In the same way, a woman's social +position that is built on sham, vanity, and selfishness, is like one of +the buildings at an exposition; effective at first sight, but bound when +slightly weather-beaten to show stucco and glue. + +It would be very presumptuous to attempt to tell any man how to acquire +the highest position in his community, especially as the answer is written +in his heart, his intellect, his altruistic sympathy, and his ardent civic +pride. A subject, however, that is not so serious or over-aweing, and +which can perhaps have directions written for it, is the lesser ambition +of acquiring a social position. + + +=TAKING OR ACQUIRING A SOCIAL POSITION= + +A bride whose family or family-in-law has social position has merely to +take that which is hers by inheritance; but a stranger who comes to live +in a new place, or one who has always lived in a community but unknown to +society, have both to acquire a standing of their own. For example: + + +=THE BRIDE OF GOOD FAMILY= + +The bride of good family need do nothing on her own initiative. After her +marriage when she settles down in her own house or apartment, everyone who +was asked to her wedding breakfast or reception, and even many who were +only bidden to the church, call on her. She keeps their cards, enters them +in a visiting or ordinary alphabetically indexed blank book, and within +two weeks she returns each one of their calls. + +As it is etiquette for everyone when calling for the first time on a +bride, to ask if she is in, the bride, in returning her first calls, +should do likewise. As a matter of fact, a bride assumes the intimate +visiting list of both her own and her husband's families, whether they +call on her or not. By and by, if she gives a general tea or ball, she can +invite whom, among them, she wants to. She should not, however, ask any +mere acquaintances of her family to her house, until they have first +invited her and her husband to theirs. But if she would like to invite +intimate friends of her own or of her husband, or of her family, there is +no valid reason why she should not do so. + +Usually when a bride and groom return from their wedding trip, all their +personal friends and those of their respective parents, give "parties" for +them. And from being seen at one house, they are invited to another. If +they go nowhere, they do not lose position but they are apt to be +overlooked until people remember them by seeing them. But it is not at all +necessary for young people to entertain in order to be asked out a great +deal; they need merely be attractive and have engaging manners to be as +popular as heart could wish. But they must make it a point to be +considerate of everyone and never fail to take the trouble to go up with a +smiling "How do you do" to every older lady who has been courteous enough +to invite them to her house. That is not "toadying," it is being merely +polite. To go up and gush is a very different matter, and to go up and +gush over a prominent hostess who has never invited them to her house, is +toadying and of a very cheap variety. + +A really well-bred person is as charming as possible to all, but effusive +to none, and shows no difference in manner either, to the high or to the +lowly when they are of equally formal acquaintance. + + +=THE BRIDE WHO IS A STRANGER= + +The bride who is a stranger, but whose husband is well known in the town +to which he brings her, is in much the same position as the bride noted +above, in that her husband's friends call on her; she returns their +visits, and many of them invite her to their house. But it then devolves +upon her to make herself liked, otherwise she will find herself in a +community of many acquaintances but no friends. The best ingredients for +likeableness are a happy expression of countenance, an unaffected manner, +and a sympathetic attitude. If she is so fortunate as to possess these +attributes her path will have roses enough. But a young woman with an +affected pose and bad or conceited manners, will find plenty of thorns. +Equally unsuccessful is she with a chip-on-her-shoulder who, coming from +New York for instance, to live in Brightmeadows, insists upon dragging New +York sky-scrapers into every comparison with Brightmeadows' new +six-storied building. She might better pack her trunks and go back where +she came from. Nor should the bride from Brightmeadows who has married a +New Yorker, flaunt Brightmeadows standards or customs, and tell Mrs. +Worldly that she does not approve of a lady's smoking! Maybe she doesn't +and she may be quite right, and she should not under the circumstances +smoke herself; but she should not make a display of intolerance, or she, +too, had better take the first train back home, since she is likely to +find New York very, very lonely. + + +=HOW TOTAL STRANGERS ACQUIRE SOCIAL STANDING= + +When new people move into a community, bringing letters of introduction to +prominent citizens, they arrive with an already made position, which ranks +in direct proportion to the standing of those who wrote the introductions. +Since, however, no one but "persons of position" are eligible to letters +of importance, there would be no question of acquiring position--which +they have--but merely of adding to their acquaintance. + +As said in another chapter, people of position are people of position the +world over, and all the cities strung around the whole globe are like so +many chapter-houses of a brotherhood, to which letters of introduction +open the doors. + +However, this is off the subject, which is to advise those who have no +position, or letters, how to acquire the former. It is a long and slow +road to travel, particularly long and slow for a man and his wife in a big +city. In New York people could live in the same house for generations, and +do, and not have their next door neighbor know them even by sight. But no +other city, except London, is as unaware as that. When people move to a +new city, or town, it is usually because of business. The husband at least +makes business acquaintances, but the wife is left alone. The only thing +for her to do is to join the church of her denomination, and become +interested in some activity; not only as an opening wedge to +acquaintanceships and possibly intimate friendships, but as an occupation +and a respite from loneliness. Her social position is gained usually at a +snail's pace--nor should she do anything to hurry it. If she is a real +person, if she has qualities of mind and heart, if she has charming +manners, sooner or later a certain position will come, and in proportion +to her eligibility. + +One of the ladies with whom she works in church, having gradually learned +to like her, asks her to her house. Nothing may ever come of this, but +another one also inviting her, may bring an introduction to a third, who +takes a fancy to her. This third lady also invites her where she meets an +acquaintance she has already made on one of the two former occasions, and +this acquaintance in turn invites her. By the time she has met the same +people several times, they gradually, one by one, offer to go and see her, +or ask her to come and see them. One inviolable rule she must not forget: +it is fatal to be pushing or presuming. She must remain dignified always, +natural and sympathetic when anyone approaches her, but she should not +herself approach any one more than half way. A smile, the more friendly +the better, is never out of place, but after smiling, she should pass on! +Never grin weakly, and--cling! + +If she is asked to go to see a lady, it is quite right to go. But not +again, until the lady has returned the visit, or asked her to her house. +And if admitted when making a first visit, she should remember not to +stay more than twenty minutes at most, since it is always wiser to make +others sorry to have her leave than run the risk of having the hostess +wonder why her visitor doesn't know enough to go! + + +=THE ENTRANCE OF AN OUTSIDER= + +The outsider enters society by the same path, but it is steeper and longer +because there is an outer gate of reputation called "They are not people +of any position" which is difficult to unlatch. Nor is it ever unlatched +to those who sit at the gate rattling at the bars, or plaintively peering +in. The better, and the only way if she has not the key of birth, is +through study to make herself eligible. Meanwhile, charitable, or civic +work, will give her interest and occupation as well as throw her with +ladies of good breeding, by association with whom she can not fail to +acquire some of those qualities of manner before which the gates of +society always open. + + +=WHEN POSITION HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED= + +When her husband belongs to a club, or perhaps she does too, and the +neighbors are friendly and those of social importance have called on her +and asked her to their houses, a newcomer does not have to stand so +exactly on the chalk line of ceremony as in returning her first visits and +sending out her first invitations. + +After people have dined with each other several times, it is not at all +important to consider whether an invitation is owed or paid several times +over. She who is hospitably inclined can ask people half a dozen times to +their once if she wants to, and they show their friendliness by coming. +Nor need visits be paid in alternate order. Once she is really accepted by +people she can be as friendly as she chooses. + +When Mrs. Oldname calls on Mrs. Stranger the first time, the latter may do +nothing but call in return; it would be the height of presumption to +invite one of conspicuous prominence until she has first been invited by +her. Nor may the Strangers ask the Oldnames to dine after being merely +invited to a tea. But when Mrs. Oldname asks Mrs. Stranger to lunch, the +latter might then invite the former to dinner, after which, if they +accept, the Strangers can continue to invite them on occasion, whether +they are invited in turn or not; especially if the Strangers are +continually entertaining, and the Oldnames are not. But on no account must +the Strangers' parties be arranged solely for the benefit of any +particular fashionables. + +The Strangers can also invite to a party any children whom their own +children know at school, and Mrs. Stranger can quite properly go to fetch +her own children from a party to which their schoolmates invited them. + + +=MONEY NOT ESSENTIAL TO SOCIAL POSITION= + +Bachelors, unless they are very well off, are not expected to give +parties; nor for that matter are very young couples. All hostesses go on +asking single men and young people to their houses without it ever +occurring to them that any return other than politeness should be made. + +There are many couples, not necessarily in the youngest set either, who +are tremendously popular in society in spite of the fact that they give no +parties at all. The Lovejoys, for instance, who are clamored for +everywhere, have every attribute--except money. With fewer clothes perhaps +than any fashionable young woman in New York, she can't compete with Mrs. +Bobo Gilding or Constance Style for "smartness" but, as Mrs. Worldly +remarked: "What would be the use of Celia Lovejoy's beauty if it depended +upon continual variation in clothes?" + +The only "entertaining" the Lovejoys ever do is limited to afternoon tea +and occasional welsh-rarebit suppers. But they return every bit of +hospitality shown them by helping to make a party "go" wherever they are. +Both are amusing, both are interesting, both do everything well. They +can't afford to play cards for money, but they both play a very good game +and the table is delighted to "carry them," or they play at the same table +against each other. + +This, by the way, is another illustration of the conduct of a gentleman; +if young Lovejoy played for money he would win undoubtedly in the long run +because he plays unusually well, but to use card-playing as a "means of +making money" would be contrary to the ethics of a gentleman, just as +playing for more than can be afforded turns a game into "gambling." + + +=AN ELUSIVE POINT ESSENTIAL TO SOCIAL SUCCESS= + +The sense of whom to invite with whom is one of the most important, and +elusive, points in social knowledge. The possession or lack of it is +responsible more than anything else for the social success of one woman, +and the failure of another. And as it is almost impossible, without +advice, for any stranger anywhere to know which people like or dislike +each other, the would-be hostess must either by means of natural talent or +more likely by trained attention, read the signs of liking or prejudice +much as a woodsman reads a message in every broken twig or turned leaf. + +One who can read expression, perceives at a glance the difference between +friendliness and polite aloofness. When a lady is unusually silent, +strictly impersonal in conversation, and entirely unapproachable, +something is not to her liking. The question is, what? Or usually, whom? +The greatest blunder possible would be to ask her what the matter is. The +cause of annoyance is probably that she finds someone distasteful and it +should not be hard for one whose faculties are not asleep to discover the +offender and if possible separate them, or at least never ask them +together again. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CARDS AND VISITS + + +=USEFULNESS OF CARDS= + +Who was it that said--in the Victorian era probably, and a man of +course--"The only mechanical tool ever needed by a woman is a hair-pin"? +He might have added that with a hair-pin and a visiting card, she is ready +to meet most emergencies. + +Although the principal use of a visiting card, at least the one for which +it was originally invented--to be left as an evidence of one person's +presence at the house of another--is going gradually out of ardent favor +in fashionable circles, its usefulness seems to keep a nicely adjusted +balance. In New York, for instance, the visiting card has entirely taken +the place of the written note of invitation to informal parties of every +description. Messages of condolence or congratulation are written on it; +it is used as an endorsement in the giving of an order; it is even tacked +on the outside of express boxes. The only employment of it which is not as +flourishing as formerly is its being left in quantities and with frequency +at the doors of acquaintances. This will be explained further on. + + +=A CARD'S SIZE AND ENGRAVING= + +The card of a lady is usually from about 2-3/4 to 3-1/2 inches wide, by 2 +to 2-3/4 inches high, but there is no fixed rule. The card of a young girl +is smaller and more nearly square in shape. (About 2 inches high by 2-1/2 +or 2-5/8 inches long, depending upon the length of the name.) Young girls +use smaller cards than older ladies. A gentleman's card is long and +narrow, from 2-7/8 to 3-1/4 inches long, and from 1-1/4 to 1-5/8 inches +high. All visiting cards are engraved on white unglazed bristol board, +which may be of medium thickness or thin, as one fancies. A few years ago +there was a fad for cards as thin as writing paper, but one seldom sees +them in America now. The advantage of a thin card is that a greater +quantity may be carried easily. + +The engraving most in use to-day is shaded block. Script is seldom seen, +but it is always good form and so is plain block, but with the exception +of old English all ornate lettering should be avoided. All people who live +in cities should have the address in the lower right corner, engraved in +smaller letters than the name. In the country, addresses are not +important, as every one knows where every one else lives. People who have +town and country houses usually have separate cards, though not +necessarily a separate plate. + + +=ECONOMICAL ENGRAVING= + +The economically inclined can have several varieties of cards printed from +one plate. The cards would vary somewhat in size in order to "center" the +wording. + +Example: + +The plate: + + Mr. and Mrs. Gilding + Miss Gilding + + + 00 FIFTH AVENUE + GOLDEN HALL + +may be printed. + +Miss Gilding's name should never appear on a card with both her mother's +and father's, so her name being out of line under the "Mr. and Mrs." +engraving makes no difference. + +or + + Mr. and Mrs. Gilding + + GOLDEN HALL + + +or + + Mrs. Gilding + Miss Gilding + + 00 FIFTH AVENUE + +or + + Mrs. Gilding + + + GOLDEN HALL + +The personal card is in a measure an index of one's character. A fantastic +or garish note in the type effect, in the quality or shape of the card, +betrays a lack of taste in the owner of the card. + +It is not customary for a married man to have a club address on his card, +and it would be serviceable only in giving a card of introduction to a +business acquaintance, under social rather than business circumstances, or +in paying a formal call upon a political or business associate. Unmarried +men often use no other address than that of a club; especially if they +live in bachelor's quarters, but young men who live at home use their home +address. + + +=CORRECT NAMES AND TITLES= + +To be impeccably correct, initials should not be engraved on a visiting +card. A gentleman's card should read: Mr. John Hunter Titherington Smith, +but since names are sometimes awkwardly long, and it is the American +custom to cling to each and every one given in baptism, he asserts his +possessions by representing each one with an initial, and engraves his +cards Mr. John H.T. Smith, or Mr. J.H. Titherington Smith, as suits his +fancy. So, although, according to high authorities, he should drop a name +or two and be Mr. Hunter Smith, or Mr. Titherington Smith, it is very +likely that to the end of time the American man, and necessarily his wife, +who must use the name as he does, will go on cherishing initials. + +And a widow no less than a married woman should always continue to use her +husband's Christian name, or his name and another initial, engraved on her +cards. She is Mrs. John Hunter Titherington Smith, or, to compromise, Mrs. +J.H. Titherington Smith, but she is _never_ Mrs. Sarah Smith; at least not +anywhere in good society. In business and in legal matters a woman is +necessarily addressed by her own Christian name, because she uses it in +her signature. But no one should ever address an envelope, except from a +bank or a lawyer's office, "Mrs. Sarah Smith." When a widow's son, who has +the name of his father, marries, the widow has Sr. added to her own name, +or if she is the "head" of the family, she very often omits all Christian +names, and has her card engraved "Mrs. Smith," and the son's wife calls +herself Mrs. John Hunter Smith. Smith is not a very good name as an +example, since no one could very well claim the distinction of being _the_ +Mrs. Smith. It, however, illustrates the point. + +For the daughter-in-law to continue to use a card with Jr. on it when her +husband no longer uses Jr. on his, is a mistake made by many people. A +wife always bears the name of her husband. To have a man and his mother +use cards engraved respectively Mr. J.H. Smith and Mrs. J.H. Smith and the +son's wife a card engraved Mrs. J.H. Smith, Jr., would announce to +whomever the three cards were left upon, that Mr. and Mrs. Smith and +_their_ daughter-in-law had called. + +The cards of a young girl after she is sixteen have always "Miss" before +her name, which must be her real and never a nick-name: Miss Sarah Smith, +not Miss Sally Smith. + +The fact that a man's name has "Jr." added at the end in no way takes the +place of "Mr." His card should be engraved Mr. John Hunter Smith, Jr., and +his wife's Mrs. John Hunter Smith, Jr. Some people have the "Jr." written +out, "junior." It is not spelled with a capital J if written in full. + +A boy puts Mr. on his cards when he leaves school, though many use cards +without Mr. on them while in college. A doctor, or a judge, or a minister, +or a military officer have their cards engraved with the abbreviation of +their title: Dr. Henry Gordon; Judge Horace Rush; The Rev. William Goode; +Col. Thomas Doyle. + +The double card reads: Dr. and Mrs. Henry Gordon; Hon. and Mrs., etc. + +A woman who has divorced her husband retains the legal as well as the +social right to use her husband's full name, in New York State at least. +Usually she prefers, if her name was Alice Green, to call herself Mrs. +Green Smith; not Mrs. Alice Smith, and on no account Mrs. Alice +Green--unless she wishes to give the impression that she was the guilty +one in the divorce. + + +=CHILDREN'S CARDS= + +That very little children should have visiting cards is not so "silly" as +might at first thought be supposed. To acquire perfect manners, and those +graces of deportment that Lord Chesterfield so ardently tried to instil +into his son, training can not begin early enough, since it is through +lifelong familiarity with the niceties of etiquette that much of the +distinction of those to the manner born is acquired. + +Many mothers think it good training for children to have their own cards, +which they are taught not so much to leave upon each other after +"parties," as to send with gifts upon various occasions. + +At the rehearsal of a wedding, the tiny twin flower girls came carrying +their wedding present for the bride between them, to which they had +themselves attached their own small visiting cards. One card was bordered +and engraved in pink, and the other bordered and engraved in blue, and the +address on each read "_Chez Maman_." + +And in going to see a new baby cousin each brought a small 1830 bouquet, +and sent to their aunt their cards, on which, after seeing the baby, one +had printed "He is very little," and the other, "It has a red face." This +shows that if modern society believes in beginning social training in the +nursery, it does not believe in hampering a child's natural expression. + + +=SPECIAL CARDS AND WHEN TO USE THEM= + +The double card, reading Mr. and Mrs., is sent with a wedding present, or +with flowers to a funeral, or with flowers to a debutante, and is also +used in paying formal visits. + +The card on which a debutante's name is engraved under that of her mother, +is used most frequently when no coming-out entertainment has been given +for the daughter. Her name on her mother's card announces, wherever it is +left, that the daughter is "grown" and "eligible" for invitations. In the +same way a mother may leave her son's card with her own upon any of her +own friends--especially upon those likely to entertain for young people. +This is the custom if a young man has been away at school and college for +so long that he has not a large acquaintance of his own. It is, however, +correct under any circumstances when formally leaving cards to leave those +of all sons and daughters who are grown. + + +=THE P.P.C. CARD= + +This is merely a visiting card, whether of a lady or a gentleman, on which +the initials P.P.C. (_pour prendre conge_--to take leave) are written in +ink in the lower left corner. This is usually left at the door, or sent by +mail to acquaintances, when one is leaving for the season, or for good. It +never takes the place of a farewell visit when one has received especial +courtesy, nor is it in any sense a message of thanks for especial +kindness. In either of these instances, a visit should be paid or a note +of farewell and thanks written. + + +=CARDS OF NEW OR TEMPORARY ADDRESS= + +In cities where there is no Social Register or other printed society list, +one notifies acquaintances of a change of address by mailing a visiting +card. + +Cards are also sent, with a temporary address written in ink, when one is +in a strange city and wishes to notify friends where one is stopping. + +It is also quite correct for a lady to mail her card with her temporary +address written on it to any gentleman whom she would care to see, and who +she is sure would like to see her. + + +=WHEN CARDS ARE SENT= + +When not intending to go to a tea or a wedding reception (the invitation +to which did not have R.s.v.p. on it and require an answer), one should +mail cards to the hostess so as to arrive on the morning of the +entertainment. To a tea given for a debutante cards are enclosed in one +envelope and addressed: + + Mrs. Gilding + Miss Gilding + + 00 Fifth Avenue + New York + +For a wedding reception, cards are sent to Mr. and Mrs. ----, the mother +and father of the bride, and another set of cards sent to Mr. and +Mrs. ----, the bride and bridegroom. + + +=THE VISIT OF EMPTY FORM= + +Not so many years ago, a lady or gentleman, young girl or youth, who +failed to pay her or his "party call" after having been invited to Mrs. +Social-Leader's ball was left out of her list when she gave her next one. +For the old-fashioned hostess kept her visiting list with the precision +of a bookkeeper in a bank; everyone's credit was entered or cancelled +according to the presence of her or his cards in the card receiver. Young +people who liked to be asked to her house were apt to leave an extra one +at the door, on occasion, so that theirs should not be among the missing +when the new list for the season was made up--especially as the more +important old ladies were very quick to strike a name off, but seldom if +ever known to put one back. + +But about twenty years ago the era of informality set in and has been +gaining ground ever since. In certain cities old-fashioned hostesses, it +is said, exclude delinquents. But New York is too exotic and intractable, +and the too exacting hostess is likely to find her tapestried rooms rather +empty, while the younger world of fashion flocks to the crystal-fountained +ballroom of the new Spendeasy Westerns. And then, too, life holds so many +other diversions and interests for the very type of youth which of +necessity is the vital essence of all social gaiety. Society can have +distinction and dignity without youth--but not gaiety. The country with +its outdoor sports, its freedom from exacting conventions, has gradually +deflected the interest of the younger fashionables, until at present they +care very little whether Mrs. Toplofty and Mrs. Social-Leader ask them to +their balls or not. They are glad enough to go, of course, but they don't +care enough for invitations to pay dull visits and to live up to the +conventions of "manners" that old-fashioned hostesses demand. And as these +"rebels" are invariably the most attractive and the most eligible youths, +it has become almost an issue; a hostess must in many cases either invite +none but older people and the few young girls and men whose mothers have +left cards for them, or ignore convention and invite the rebels. + +In trying to find out where the present indifference started, many ascribe +it to Bobo Gilding, to whom entering a great drawing-room was more +suggestive of the daily afternoon tea ordeal of his early nursery days, +than a voluntary act of pleasure. He was long ago one of the first to +rebel against old Mrs. Toplofty's exactions of party calls, by saying he +did not care in the least whether his great-aunt Jane Toplofty invited him +to her stodgy old ball or not. And then Lucy Wellborn (the present Mrs. +Bobo Gilding) did not care much to go either if none of her particular men +friends were to be there. Little she cared to dance the cotillion with old +Colonel Bluffington or to go to supper with that odious Hector Newman. + +And so, beginning first with a few gilded youths, then including young +society, the habit has spread until the obligatory paying of visits by +young girls and men has almost joined the once universal "day at home" as +belonging to a past age. Do not understand by this that visits are never +paid on other occasions. Visits to strangers, visits of condolence, and of +other courtesies are still paid, quite as punctiliously as ever. But +within the walls of society itself, the visit of formality is decreasing. +One might almost say that in certain cities society has become a family +affair. Its walls are as high as ever, higher perhaps to outsiders, but +among its own members, such customs as keeping visiting lists and having +days at home, or even knowing who owes a visit to whom, is not only +unobserved but is unheard of. + +But because punctilious card-leaving, visiting, and "days at home" have +gone out of fashion in New York, is no reason why these really important +observances should not be, or are not, in the height of fashion elsewhere. +Nor, on the other hand, must anyone suppose because the younger +fashionables in New York pay few visits and never have days at home, that +they are a bit less careful about the things which they happen to consider +essential to good-breeding. + +The best type of young men pay few, if any, party calls, because they work +and they exercise, and whatever time is left over, if any, is spent in +their club or at the house of a young woman, not tete-a-tete, but +invariably playing bridge. The Sunday afternoon visits that the youth of +another generation used always to pay, are unknown in this, because every +man who can, spends the week-end in the country. + +It is scarcely an exaggeration to say that not alone men, but many young +married women of highest social position, except to send with flowers or +wedding presents, do not use a dozen visiting cards a year. But there are +circumstances when even the most indifferent to social obligations must +leave cards. + + +=WHEN CARDS MUST BE LEFT= + +Etiquette absolutely demands that one leave a card within a few days after +taking a first meal in a lady's house; or if one has for the first time +been _invited_ to lunch or dine with strangers, it is inexcusably rude not +to leave a card upon them, whether one accepted the invitation or not. + +One must also unfailingly return a first call, even if one does not care +for the acquaintance. Only a real "cause" can excuse the affront to an +innocent stranger that the refusal to return a first call would imply. If +one does not care to continue the acquaintance, one need not pay a second +visit. + +Also a card is always left with a first invitation. Supposing Miss +Philadelphia takes a letter of introduction to Mrs. Newport--Mrs. Newport, +inviting Miss Philadelphia to her house, would not think of sending her +invitation without also leaving her card. Good form demands that a visit +be paid before issuing a _first invitation_. Sometimes a note of +explanation is sent asking that the formality be waived, but it is _never_ +disregarded, except in the case of an invitation from an older lady to a +young girl. Mrs. Worldly, for instance, who has known Jim Smartlington +always, might, instead of calling on Mary Smith, to whom his engagement is +announced, write her a note, asking her to lunch or dinner. But in +inviting Mrs. Greatlake of Chicago she would leave her card with her +invitation at Mrs. Greatlake's hotel. + +It seems scarcely necessary to add that anyone not entirely heartless +must leave a card on, or send flowers to, an acquaintance who has suffered +a recent bereavement. One should also leave cards of inquiry or send +flowers to sick people. + + +=INVITATION IN PLACE OF RETURNED VISIT= + +Books on etiquette seem agreed that sending an invitation does not cancel +the obligation of paying a visit--which may be technically correct--but +fashionable people, who are in the habit of lunching or dining with each +other two or three times a season, pay no attention to visits whatever. +Mrs. Norman calls on Mrs. Gilding. Mrs. Gilding invites the Normans to +dinner. They go. A short time afterward Mrs. Norman invites the +Gildings--or the Gildings very likely again invite the Normans. Some +evening at all events, the Gildings dine with the Normans. Someday, if +Mrs. Gilding happens to be leaving cards, she may leave them at the +Normans--or she may not. Some people leave cards almost like the "hares" +in a paper chase; others seldom if ever do. Except on the occasions +mentioned in the paragraph before this, or unless there is an illness, a +death, a birth, or a marriage, people in society invite each other to +their houses and don't leave cards at all. Nor do they ever consider whose +"turn" it is to invite whom. + + +="NOT AT HOME"= + +When a servant at a door says "Not at home," this phrase means that the +lady of the house is "Not at home to visitors." This answer neither +signifies nor implies--nor is it intended to--that Mrs. Jones is out of +the house. Some people say "Not receiving," which means actually the same +thing, but the "not at home" is infinitely more polite; since in the +former you know she is in the house but won't see you, whereas in the +latter case you have the pleasant uncertainty that it is quite possible +she is out. + +To be told "Mrs. Jones is at home but doesn't want to see you," would +certainly be unpleasant. And to "beg to be excused"--except in a case of +illness or bereavement--has something very suggestive of a cold shoulder. +But "not at home" means that she is not sitting in the drawing room behind +her tea tray; that and nothing else. She may be out or she may be lying +down or otherwise occupied. Nor do people of the world find the slightest +objection if a hostess, happening to recognize the visitor as a particular +friend, calls out, "Do come in! I _am_ at home to _you!_" Anyone who talks +about this phrase as being a "white lie" either doesn't understand the +meaning of the words, or is going very far afield to look for untruth. To +be consistent, these over-literals should also exact that when a guest +inadvertently knocks over a tea cup and stains a sofa, the hostess instead +of saying "It is nothing at all! Please don't worry about it," ought for +the sake of truth to say, "See what your clumsiness has done! You have +ruined my sofa!" And when someone says "How are you?" instead of answering +"Very well, thank you," the same truthful one should perhaps take an hour +by the clock and mention every symptom of indisposition that she can +accurately subscribe to. + +While "not at home" is merely a phrase of politeness, to say "I am _out_" +after a card has been brought to you is both an untruth and an inexcusable +rudeness. Or to have an inquiry answered, "I don't know, but I'll see," +and then to have the servant, after taking a card, come back with the +message "Mrs. Jones is out" can not fail to make the visitor feel +rebuffed. Once a card has been admitted, the visitor _must_ be admitted +also, no matter how inconvenient receiving her may be. You may send a +message that you are dressing but will be very glad to see her if she can +wait ten minutes. The visitor can either wait or say she is pressed for +time. But if she does not wait, then _she_ is rather discourteous. + +Therefore, it is of the utmost importance always to leave directions at +the door such as, "Mrs. Jones is not at home." "Miss Jones will be home at +five o'clock," "Mrs. Jones will be home at 5.30," or Mrs. Jones "is at +home" in the library to intimate friends, but "not at home" in the +drawing-room to acquaintances. It is a nuisance to be obliged to remember +either to turn an "in" and "out" card in the hail, or to ring a bell and +say, "I am going out," and again, "I have come in." But whatever plan or +arrangement you choose, no one at your front door should be left in doubt +and then repulsed. It is not only bad manners, it is bad housekeeping. + + +=THE OLD-FASHIONED DAY AT HOME= + +It is doubtful if the present generation of New Yorkers knows what a day +at home is! But their mothers, at least, remember the time when the +fashionable districts were divided into regular sections, wherein on a +given day in the week, the whole neighborhood was "at home." Friday sounds +familiar as the day for Washington Square! And was it Monday for lower +Fifth Avenue? At all events, each neighborhood on the day of its own, +suggested a local fete. Ladies in visiting dresses with trains and bonnets +and nose-veils and tight gloves, holding card cases, tripped demurely into +this house, out of that, and again into another; and there were always +many broughams and victorias slowly "exercising" up and down, and very +smart footmen standing with maroon or tan or fur rugs over their arms in +front of Mrs. Wellborn's house or Mrs. Oldname's, or the big house of Mrs. +Toplofty at the corner of Fifth Avenue. It must have been enchanting to be +a grown person in those days! Enchanting also were the C-spring victorias, +as was life in general that was taken at a slow carriage pace and not at +the motor speed of to-day. The "day at home" is still in fashion in +Washington, and it is ardently to be hoped that it also flourishes in many +cities and towns throughout the country or that it will be revived, for it +is a delightful custom--though more in keeping with Europe than America, +which does not care for gentle paces once it has tasted swift. A certain +young New York hostess announced that she was going to stay home on +Saturday afternoons. But the men went to the country and the women to the +opera, and she gave it up. + +There are a few old-fashioned ladies, living in old-fashioned houses, and +still staying at home in the old-fashioned way to old-fashioned friends +who for decades have dropped in for a cup of tea and a chat. And there are +two maiden ladies in particular, joint chatelaines of an imposingly +beautiful old house where, on a certain afternoon of the week, if you come +in for tea, you are sure to meet not alone those prominent in the world of +fashion, but a fair admixture of artists, scientists, authors; inventors, +distinguished strangers--in a word Best Society in its truest sense. But +days at home such as these are not easily duplicated; for few houses +possess a "salon" atmosphere, and few hostesses achieve either the social +talent or the wide cultivation necessary to attract and interest so varied +and brilliant a company. + + +=MODERN CARD LEAVING: A QUESTIONABLE ACT OF POLITENESS= + +The modern New York fashion in card-leaving is to dash as fast as possible +from house to house, sending the chauffeur up the steps with cards, +without ever asking if anyone is home. Some butlers announce "Not at home" +from force of habit even when no question is asked. There are occasions +when the visitors _must_ ask to see the hostess (see page 88); but cards +are left without asking whether a lady is at home under the following +circumstances: + +Cards are left on the mother of the bride, after a wedding, also on the +mother of the groom. + +Cards are also left after any formal invitation. Having been asked to +lunch or dine with a lady whom you know but slightly you should leave your +card whether you accepted the invitation or not, within three days if +possible, or at least within a week, of the date for which you were +invited. It is not considered necessary (in New York at least) to ask if +she is at home; promptness in leaving your card is, in this instance, +better manners than delaying your "party call" and asking if she is at +home. This matter of asking at the door is one that depends upon the +customs of each State and city, but as it is always wiser to err on the +side of politeness, it is the better policy, if in doubt, to ask "Is Mrs. +Blank at home?" rather than to run the risk of offending a lady who may +like to see visitors. + +A card is usually left with a first invitation to a stranger who has +brought a letter of introduction, but it is more polite--even though not +necessary--to ask to be received. Some ladies make it a habit to leave a +card on everyone on their visiting list once a season. + +It is correct for the mother of a debutante to leave her card as well as +her daughter's on every lady who has invited the daughter to her house, +and a courteous hostess returns all of these pasteboard visits. But +neither visit necessitates closer or even further acquaintance. + + +=VISITS WHICH EVERYONE MUST PAY= + +Paying visits differs from leaving cards in that you must ask to be +received. A visit of condolence should be paid at once to a friend when a +death occurs in her immediate family. A lady does not call on a gentleman, +but writes him a note of sympathy. + +In going to inquire for sick people, you should ask to be received, and it +is always thoughtful to take them gifts of books or fruit or flowers. + +If a relative announces his engagement, you must at once go to see his +fiancee. Should she be out, you do not ask to see her mother. You do, +however, leave a card upon both ladies and you ask to see her mother if +received by the daughter. + +A visit of congratulation is also paid to a new mother and a gift +invariably presented to the baby. + + +=MESSAGES WRITTEN ON CARDS= + +"With sympathy" or "With deepest sympathy" is written on your visiting +card with flowers sent to a funeral. This same message is written on a +card and left at the door of a house of mourning, if you do not know the +family well enough to ask to be received. + +"To inquire" is often written on a card left at the house of a sick +person, but not if you are received. + +In going to see a friend who is visiting a lady whom you do not know, +whether you should leave a card on the hostess as well as on your friend +depends upon the circumstances: if the hostess is one who is socially +prominent and you are unknown, it would be better taste not to leave a +card on her, since your card afterward found without explanation might be +interpreted as an uncalled-for visit made in an attempt for a place on her +list. If, on the other hand, she is the unknown person and you are the +prominent one, your card is polite, but unwise unless you mean to include +her name on your list. But if she is one with whom you have many interests +in common, then you may very properly leave a card for her. + +In leaving a card on a lady stopping at a hotel or living in an apartment +house, you should write her name in pencil across the top of your card, to +insure its being given to her, and not to some one else. + +At the house of a lady whom you know well and whom you are sorry not to +find at home, it is "friendly" to write "Sorry not to see you!" or "So +sorry to miss you!" + +Turning down a corner of a visiting card is by many intended to convey +that the visit is meant for all the ladies in the family. Other people +mean merely to show that the card was left at the door in person and not +sent in an envelope. Other people turn them down from force of habit and +mean nothing whatever. But whichever the reason, more cards are bent or +dog-eared than are left flat. + + +=ENGRAVED CARDS ANNOUNCING ENGAGEMENT, BAD FORM= + +Someone somewhere asked whether or not to answer an engraved card +announcing an engagement. The answer can have nothing to do with +etiquette, since an engraved announcement is unknown to good society. (For +the proper announcement of an engagement see page 304.) + + +=WHEN PEOPLE SEE THEIR FRIENDS= + +Five o'clock is the informal hour when people are "at home" to friends. +The correct hour for leaving cards and paying formal visits is between +3.30 and 4.30. One should hesitate to pay a visit at the "tea hour" unless +one is sure of one's welcome among the "intimates" likely to be found +around the hostess's tea-table. + +Many ladies make it their practise to be home if possible at five o'clock, +and their friends who know them well come in at that time. (For the +afternoon tea-table and its customs, see page 171.) + + +=INFORMAL VISITING OFTEN ARRANGED BY TELEPHONE= + +For instance, instead of ringing her door-bell, Mrs. Norman calls Mrs. +Kindhart on the telephone: "I haven't seen you for weeks! Won't you come +in to tea, or to lunch--just you." Mrs. Kindhart answers, "Yes, I'd love +to. I can come this afternoon"; and five o'clock finds them together over +the tea-table. + +In the same way young Struthers calls up Millicent Gilding, "Are you going +to be in this afternoon?" She says, "Yes, but not until a quarter of six." +He says, "Fine, I'll come then." Or she says, "I'm so sorry, I'm playing +bridge with Pauline--but I'll be in to-morrow!" He says, "All right, I'll +come to-morrow." + +The younger people rarely ever go to see each other without first +telephoning. Or since even young people seldom meet except for bridge, +most likely it is Millicent Gilding who telephones the Struthers youth to +ask if he can't possibly get uptown before five o'clock to make a fourth +with Mary and Jim and herself. + + +=HOW A FIRST VISIT IS MADE= + +In very large cities, neighbors seldom call on each other. But if +strangers move into a neighborhood in a small town or in the country, or +at a watering-place, it is not only unfriendly but uncivil for their +neighbors not to call on them. The older residents always call on the +newer. And the person of greatest social prominence should make the first +visit, or at least invite the younger or less prominent one to call on +her; which the younger should promptly do. + +Or two ladies of equal age or position may either one say, "I wish you +would come to see me." To which the other replies "I will with pleasure." +More usually the first one offers "I should like to come to see you, if I +may." And the other, of course, answers "I shall be delighted if you +will." + +The first one, having suggested going to see the second, is bound in +politeness to do so, otherwise she implies that the acquaintance on second +thought seems distasteful to her. + +Everyone invited to a wedding should call upon the bride on her return +from the honeymoon. And when a man marries a girl from a distant place, +courtesy absolutely demands that his friends and neighbors call on her as +soon as she arrives in her new home. + + +=ON OPENING THE DOOR TO A VISITOR= + +On the hall table in every house, there should be a small silver, or other +card tray, a pad and a pencil. The nicest kind of pad is one that when +folded, makes its own envelope, so that a message when written need not be +left open. There are all varieties and sizes at all stationers. + +When the door-bell rings, the servant on duty, who can easily see the +chauffeur or lady approaching, should have the card tray ready to present, +on the palm of the left hand. A servant at the door must never take the +cards in his or her fingers. + + +=CORRECT NUMBER OF CARDS TO LEAVE= + +When the visitor herself rings the door-bell and the message is "not at +home," the butler or maid proffers the card tray on which the visitor lays +a card of her own and her daughter's for each lady in the house and a card +of her husband's and son's for each lady and gentleman. But three is the +greatest number ever left of any one card. In calling on Mrs. Town, who +has three grown daughters and her mother living in the house, and a Mrs. +Stranger staying with her whom the visitor was invited to a luncheon to +meet, a card on each would need a packet of six. Instead, the visitor +should leave three--one for Mrs. Town, one for all the other ladies of the +house, and one for Mrs. Stranger. In asking to be received, her query at +the door should be "Are any of the ladies at home?" Or in merely leaving +her cards she should say "For all of the ladies." + + +=WHEN THE CALLER LEAVES= + +The butler or maid must stand with the front door open until a visitor +re-enters her motor, or if she is walking, until she has reached the +sidewalk. It is bad manners ever to close the door in a visitor's face. + +When a chauffeur leaves cards, the door may be closed as soon as he turns +away. + + +=WHEN THE LADY OF THE HOUSE IS AT HOME= + +When the door is opened by a waitress or a parlor-maid and the mistress of +the house is in the drawing-room, the maid says "This way, please," and +leads the way. She goes as quickly as possible to present the card tray. +The guest, especially if a stranger, lags in order to give the hostess +time to read the name on the card. + +The maid meanwhile moves aside, to make room for the approaching visitor, +who goes forward to shake hands with the hostess. If a butler is at the +door, he reads the card himself, picking it up from the tray, and opening +the door of the drawing-room announces: "Mrs. Soandso," after which he +puts the card on the hall table. + +The duration of a formal visit should be in the neighborhood of twenty +minutes. But if other visitors are announced, the first one--on a very +formal occasion--may cut her visit shorter. Or if conversation becomes +especially interesting, the visit may be prolonged five minutes or so. On +no account must a visitor stay an hour! + +A hostess always rises when a visitor enters, unless the visitor is a +very young woman or man and she herself elderly, or unless she is seated +behind the tea-table so that rising is difficult. She should, however, +always rise and go forward to meet a lady much older than herself; but she +never rises from her tea-table to greet a man, unless he is quite old. + +If the lady of the house is "at home" but up-stairs, the servant at the +door leads the visitor into the reception room, saying "Will you take a +seat, please?" and then carries the card to the mistress of the house. + +On an exceptional occasion, such as paying a visit of condolence or +inquiring for a convalescent, when the question as to whether he will be +received is necessarily doubtful, a gentleman does not take off his coat +or gloves, but waits in the reception room with his hat in his hand. When +the servant returning says either "Will you come this way, please?" or +"Mrs. Town is not well enough to see any one, but Miss Alice will be down +in a moment," the visitor divests himself of his coat and gloves, which +the servant carries, as well as his hat, out to the front hall. + +As said before, few men pay visits without first telephoning. But perhaps +two or three times during a winter a young man, when he is able to get +away from his office in time, will make a tea-time visit upon a hostess +who has often invited him to dinner or to her opera box. Under ordinary +circumstances, however, some woman member of his family leaves his card +for him after a dinner or a dance, or else it is not left at all. + +A gentleman paying visits, always asks if the hostess is at home. If she +is, he leaves his hat and stick in the hall and also removes and leaves +his gloves--and rubbers should he be wearing them. If the hour is between +five and half-past, the hostess is inevitably at her tea-table, in the +library, to which, if he is at all well known to the servant at the door, +he is at once shown without being first asked to wait in the reception +room. A gentleman entering a room in which there are several people who +are strangers, shakes hands with his hostess and slightly bows to all the +others, whether he knows them personally or not. He, of course, shakes +hands with any who are friends, and with all men to whom he is introduced, +but with a lady only if she offers him her hand. + + +=HOW TO ENTER A DRAWING-ROOM= + +To know how to enter a drawing-room is supposed to be one of the supreme +tests of good breeding. But there should be no more difficulty in entering +the drawing-room of Mrs. Worldly than in entering the sitting-room at +home. Perhaps the best instruction would be like that in learning to swim. +"Take plenty of time, don't struggle and don't splash about!" Good manners +socially are not unlike swimming--not the "crawl" or "overhand," but +smooth, tranquil swimming. (Quite probably where the expression "in the +swim" came from anyway!) Before actually entering a room, it is easiest to +pause long enough to see where the hostess is. Never start forward and +then try to find her as an afterthought. The place to pause is on the +threshold--not half-way in the room. The way _not_ to enter a drawing-room +is to dart forward and then stand awkwardly bewildered and looking about +in every direction. A man of the world stops at the entrance of the room +for a scarcely perceptible moment, until he perceives the most +unencumbered approach to the hostess, and he thereupon walks over to her. +When he greets his hostess he pauses slightly, the hostess smiles and +offers her hand; the gentleman smiles and shakes hands, at the same time +bowing. A lady shakes hands with the hostess and with every one she knows +who is nearby. She bows to acquaintances at a distance and to strangers to +whom she is introduced. + + +=HOW TO SIT GRACEFULLY= + +Having shaken hands with the hostess, the visitor, whether a lady or a +gentleman, looks about quietly, without hurry, for a convenient chair to +sit down upon, or drop into. To sit gracefully one should not perch +stiffly on the edge of a straight chair, nor sprawl at length in an easy +one. The perfect position is one that is easy, but dignified. In other +days, no lady of dignity ever crossed her knees, held her hands on her +hips, or twisted herself sideways, or even _leaned back in her chair!_ +To-day all these things are done; and the only etiquette left is on the +subject of how not to exaggerate them. No lady should cross her knees so +that her skirts go up to or above them; neither should her foot be thrust +out so that her toes are at knee level. An arm a-kimbo is _not_ a graceful +attitude, nor is a twisted spine! Everyone, of course, leans against a +chair back, except in a box at the opera and in a ballroom, but a lady +should never throw herself almost at full length in a reclining chair or +on a wide sofa when she is out in public. Neither does a gentleman in +paying a formal visit sit on the middle of his backbone with one ankle +supported on the other knee, and both as high as his head. + +The proper way for a lady to sit is in the center of her chair, or +slightly sideways in the corner of a sofa. She may lean back, of course, +and easily; her hands relaxed in her lap, her knees together, or if +crossed, her foot must not be thrust forward so as to leave a space +between the heel and her other ankle. On informal occasions she can lean +back in an easy chair with her hands on the arms. In a ball dress a lady +of distinction never leans back in a chair; one can not picture a +beautiful and high-bred woman, wearing a tiara and other ballroom jewels, +leaning against anything. This is, however, not so much a rule of +etiquette as a question of beauty and fitness. + +A gentleman, also on very formal occasions, should sit in the center of +his chair; but unless it is a deep lounging one, he always leans against +the back and puts a hand or an elbow on its arms. + + +=POSTSCRIPTS ON VISITS= + +A lady never calls on another under the sponsorship of a gentleman--unless +he is her husband or father. A young girl can very properly go with her +fiance to return visit paid to her by members or friends of his family; +but she should not pay an initial visit unless to an invalid who has +written her a note asking her to do so. + +If, when arriving at a lady's house, you find her motor at the door, you +should leave your card as though she were not at home. If she happens to +be in the hall, or coming down the steps, you say "I see you are going +out, and I won't keep you!" + +If she insists on your coming in, you should stay only a moment. Do not, +however, fidget and talk about leaving. Sit down as though your leaving +immediately were not on your mind, but after two or three minutes say +"Good-by" and go. + +A young man may go to see a young girl as often as he feels inclined and +she cares to receive him. If she continually asks to be excused, or shows +him scant attention when he is talking to her, or in any other way +indicates that he annoys or bores her, his visits should cease. + +It is very bad manners to invite one person to your house and leave out +another with whom you are also talking. You should wait for an opportunity +when the latter is not included in your conversation. + +In good society ladies do not kiss each other when they meet either at +parties or in public. + +It is well to remember that nothing more blatantly stamps an ill-bred +person than the habit of patting, nudging or taking hold of people. "Keep +your hands to yourself!" might almost be put at the head of the first +chapter of every book on etiquette. + +Be very chary of making any such remarks as "I am afraid I have stayed too +long," or "I must apologize for hurrying off," or "I am afraid I have +bored you to death talking so much." All such expressions are +self-conscious and stupid. If you really think you are staying too long or +leaving too soon or talking too much--don't! + + +=AN INVALID'S VISIT BY PROXY= + +It is not necessary that an invalid make any attempt to return the visits +to her friends who are attentive enough to go often to see her. But if a +stranger calls on her--particularly a stranger who may not know that she +is always confined to the house, it is correct for a daughter or sister +or even a friend to leave the invalid's card for her and even to pay a +visit should she find a hostess "at home." In this event the visitor by +proxy lays her own card as well as that of the invalid on the tray +proffered her. Upon being announced to the hostess, she naturally explains +that she is appearing in place of her mother (or whatever relation the +invalid is to her) and that the invalid herself is unable to make any +visits. + +A lady never pays a party call on a gentleman. But if the gentleman who +has given a dinner has his mother (or sister) staying with him and if the +mother (or sister) chaperoned the party, cards should of course be left +upon her. + +Having risen to go, _go_! Don't stand and keep your hostess standing while +you say good-by, and make a last remark last half an hour! + +Few Americans are so punctilious as to pay their dinner calls within +twenty-four hours; but it is the height of correctness and good manners. + +When a gentleman, whose wife is away, accepts some one's hospitality, it +is correct for his wife to pay the party call with (or for) him, since it +is taken for granted that she would have been included had she been at +home. + +In other days a hostess thought it necessary to change quickly into a best +dress if important company rang her door-bell. A lady of fashion to-day +receives her visitors at once in whatever dress she happens to be wearing, +since not to keep them waiting is the greater courtesy. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INVITATIONS, ACCEPTANCES AND REGRETS + + +=THE FORMAL INVITATION= + +As an inheritance from the days when Mrs. Brown presented her compliments +and begged that Mrs. Smith would do her the honor to take a dish of tea +with her, we still--notwithstanding the present flagrant disregard of +old-fashioned convention--send our formal invitations, acceptances and +regrets, in the prescribed punctiliousness of the third person. + +All formal invitations, whether they are to be engraved or to be written +by hand (and their acceptances and regrets) are invariably in the third +person, and good usage permits of no deviation from this form. + + +=WEDDING INVITATIONS= + +The invitation to the ceremony is engraved on the front sheet of white +note-paper. The smartest, at present, is that with a raised margin--or +plate mark. At the top of the sheet the crest (if the family of the bride +has the right to use one) is embossed without color. Otherwise the +invitation bears no device. The engraving may be in script, block, shaded +block, or old English. The invitation to the ceremony should always +request "the honour" of your "presence," and never the "pleasure" of your +"company." (Honour is spelled in the old-fashioned way, with a "u" instead +of "honor.") + + +_Enclosed in Two Envelopes_ + +Two envelopes are never used except for wedding invitations or +announcements; but wedding invitations and all accompaning cards are +always enclosed first in an inner envelope that has no mucilage on the +flap, and is superscribed "Mr. and Mrs. Jameson Greatlake," without +address. This is enclosed in an outer envelope which is sealed and +addressed: + + Mr. and Mrs. Jameson Greatlake, + 24 Michigan Avenue, + Chicago. + +To those who are only "asked to the church" no house invitation is +enclosed. + + +=THE CHURCH INVITATION= + +The proper form for an invitation to a church ceremony is: + +(_Form No. 1._) + + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith + request the honour of your presence + at the marriage of their daughter + Mary Katherine + to + Mr. James Smartlington + on Tuesday the first of November + at twelve o'clock + at St. John's Church + in the City of New York + + +(_Form No. 2._) + + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith + request the honour of + [HW: Miss Pauline Town's] + presence at the marriage of their daughter + Mary Katherine + to + Mr. James Smartlington + on Tuesday the first of November + at twelve o'clock + at St. John's Church + +(_The size of invitations is 5-1/8 wide by 7-3/8 deep._) + + +(_When the parents issue the invitations for a wedding at a house other +than their own._) + + Mr. and Mrs. Richard Littlehouse + + request the honour of + + + + presence at the marriage of their daughter + + Betty + + to + + Mr. Frederic Robinson + + on Saturday the fifth of November + + at four o'clock + + at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Sterlington + + Tuxedo Park + + New York + + R.s.v.p. + +No variation is permissible in the form of a wedding invitation. Whether +fifty guests are to be invited or five thousand, the paper, the engraving +and the wording, and the double envelope are precisely the same. + + +_Church Card of Admittance_ + +In cities or wherever the general public is not to be admitted, a card of +about the size of a small visiting card is enclosed with the church +invitation: + + Please present this card, + at St. John's Church + on Tuesday the first of November + + +_Cards to Reserved Pews_ + +To the family and very intimate friends who are to be seated in especially +designated pews: + + Please present this to an usher + Pew No. + on Thursday the ninth of May + +Engraved pew cards are ordered only for very big weddings where twenty or +more pews are to be reserved. The more usual custom--at all small and many +big weddings--is for the mother of the bride, and the mother of the +bridegroom each to write on her personal visiting card: + + [HW: Pew No. 7] + + Mrs. John Huntington Smith + + FOUR WEST THIRTY-SIXTH STREET + +A card for the reserved enclosure but no especial pew is often inscribed +"Within the Ribbons." + + +=INVITATION TO THE HOUSE= + +The invitation to the breakfast or reception following the church ceremony +is engraved on a card to match the paper of the church invitation and is +the size of the latter after it is folded for the envelope: + + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith + + request the pleasure of + + [HW: Mr. & Mrs. James Greatlake's] + + company on Tuesday the first of November + at half after four o'clock + at Four West Thirty-sixth Street + + R.s.v.p. + + +=CEREMONY AND RECEPTION INVITATION IN ONE= + +Occasionally, especially for a country wedding, the invitation to the +breakfast or the reception is added to the one to the ceremony: + +Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Chatterton request the +honour of + + [HW: Mr. & Mrs. Worldly's] + + presence at the marriage of their daughter + + Hester + + to + + Mr. James Town, junior + + on Tuesday the first of June + + at three o'clock + + at St. John's Church + + and afterwards at Sunnylawn + + Ridgefield + + R.s.v.p. + + +Or the invitation reads "at twelve o'clock, at St. John's Church, and +afterwards at breakfast at Sunnylawn"; but "afterwards to the reception at +Sunnylawn" is wrong. + + +=THE INVITATION TO A HOUSE WEDDING= + +Is precisely the same except that "at Sunnylawn" or "at Four West +Thirty-sixth Street" is put in place of "at St. John's Church," and an +invitation to stay on at a house, to which the guest is already invited, +is not necessary. + +_The Train Card_ + +If the wedding is to be in the country, a train card is enclosed: + + A special train will leave Grand Central Station at 12:45 P.M., + arriving at Ridgefield at 2:45. Returning, train will leave + Ridgefield at 5:10 P.M., arriving New York at 7.02 P.M. + + _Show this card at the gate._ + + +=INVITATION TO RECEPTION AND NOT TO CEREMONY= + +It sometimes happens that the bride prefers none but her family at the +ceremony, and a big reception. This plan is chosen where the mother of the +bride or other very near relative is an invalid. The ceremony may take +place at a bedside, or it may be that the invalid can go down to the +drawing-room with only the immediate families, and is unequal to the +presence of many people. + +Under these circumstances the invitations to the breakfast or reception +are sent on sheets of note paper like that used for church invitations, +but the wording is: + + Mr. and Mrs. Grantham Jones + + request the pleasure of your company + + at the wedding breakfast of their daughter + + Muriel + + and + + Mr. Burlingame Ross, Jr. + + on Saturday the first of November + + at one o'clock + + at Four East Thirty-Eighth Street + + The favor of an + answer is requested + +The "pleasure of your company" is requested in this case instead of the +"honour of your presence." + + +=THE WRITTEN WEDDING INVITATION= + +If a wedding is to be so small that no invitations are engraved, the notes +of invitation should be personally written by the bride: + + Sally Dear: + + Our wedding is to be on Thursday the tenth at half-past twelve, + Christ Church Chantry. Of course we want you and Jack and the + children! And we want all of you to come afterward to Aunt + Mary's, for a bite to eat and to wish us luck. + + Affectionately, + Helen. + +or + + Dear Mrs. Kindhart: + + Dick and I are to be married at Christ Church Chantry at noon on + Thursday the tenth. We both want you and Mr. Kindhart to come to + the church and afterward for a very small breakfast to my + Aunt's--Mrs. Slade--at Two Park Avenue. + + With much love from us both, + Affectionately, + Helen. + + +=WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENTS= + +If no general invitations were issued to the church, an announcement +engraved on note paper like that of the invitation to the ceremony, is +sent to the entire visiting list of both the bride's and the groom's +family: + + Mr. and Mrs. Maynard Barnes + + have the honour to announce + + the marriage of their daughter + + Priscilla + + to + + Mr. Eben Hoyt Leaming + + on Tuesday the twenty-sixth of April + + One thousand nine hundred and twenty-two + + in the City of New York + + +=THE SECOND MARRIAGE= + + +=INVITATIONS= + +Invitations to the marriage of a widow--if she is very young--are sent in +the name of her parents exactly as were the invitations to her first +wedding, excepting that her name instead of being merely Priscilla is now +written Priscilla Barnes Leaming, thus: + + Mr. and Mrs. Maynard Barnes + request the honour of your presence + at the marriage of their daughter + Priscilla Barnes Leaming + + to + +etc. + + +=ANNOUNCEMENTS= + +For a young widow's marriage are also the same as for a first wedding: + + Mr. and Mrs. Maynard Barnes + have the honour to announce + the marriage of their daughter + Priscilla Barnes Leaming + to + Mr. Worthington Adams + +etc. But the announcement of the marriage of a widow of maturer years is +engraved on note paper and reads: + + Mrs. Priscilla Barnes Leaming + and + Mr. Worthington Adams + have the honour to announce their marriage + on Monday the second of November + at Saratoga Springs + New York + + +=CARDS OF ADDRESS= + +If the bride and groom wish to inform their friends of their future +address (especially in cities not covered by the Social Register), it is +customary to enclose a card with the announcement: + + Mr. and Mrs. Worthington Adams + + will be at home + + after the first of December + + at Twenty-five Alderney Place + +Or merely their visiting card with their new address in the lower right +corner: + + Mr. and Mrs. Worthington Adams + + + 25 Alderney Place + + +=INVITATION TO WEDDING ANNIVERSARY= + +For a wedding anniversary celebration, the year of the wedding and the +present year are usually stamped across the top of an invitation. +Sometimes the couple's initials are added. + + 1898-1922 + + Mr. and Mrs. Alvin Johnson + + request the pleasure of + + [HW: Mr. & Mrs. ILLEGIBLE] + + company at the + + Twenty-fifth Anniversary of their marriage + + on Wednesday the first of June + + at nine o'clock + + Twenty-four Austin Avenue + + R.s.v.p. + + +=ANSWERING A WEDDING INVITATION= + +An invitation to the church only requires no answer whatever. An +invitation to the reception or breakfast is answered on the first page of +a sheet of note paper, and although it is written "by hand" the spacing of +the words must be followed as though they were engraved. This is the form +of acceptance: + + Mr. and Mrs. Robert Gilding, Jr., + accept with pleasure + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith's + kind invitation for + Tuesday the first of June + +The regret reads: + + Mr. and Mrs. Richard Brown + regret that they are unable to accept + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith's + kind invitation for + Tuesday the first of June + + +=OTHER FORMAL INVITATIONS= + +All other formal invitations are engraved (never printed) on cards of thin +white matte Bristol board, either plain or plate-marked like those for +wedding reception cards. Note paper such as that used for wedding +invitations is occasionally, but rarely, preferred. + +Monograms, addresses, personal devices are not used on engraved +invitations. + +The size of the card of invitation varies with personal preference from +four and a half to six inches in width, and from three to four and a half +inches in height. The most graceful proportion is three units in height to +four in width. + +The lettering is a matter of personal choice, but the plainer the design, +the better. Scrolls and ornate trimmings are bad taste always. Punctuation +is used only after each letter of the R.s.v.p. and it is absolutely +correct to use small letters for the s.v.p. Capitals R.S.V.P. are +permissible; but fastidious people prefer "R.s.v.p." + + +=INVITATION TO A BALL= + +The word "ball" is never used excepting in an invitation to a public one, +or at least a semi-public one, such as may be given by a committee for a +charity or a club, or association of some sort. + +For example: + + The Committee of the Greenwood Club + + request the pleasure of your company + + at a Ball + + to be held in the Greenwood Clubhouse + + on the evening of November the seventh + + at ten o'clock. + + for the benefit of + + The Neighborhood Hospital + + + Tickets five dollars + +Invitations to a private ball, no matter whether the ball is to be given +in a private house, or whether the hostess has engaged an entire floor of +the biggest hotel in the world, announce merely that Mr. and Mrs. Somebody +will be "At Home," and the word "dancing" is added almost as though it +were an afterthought in the lower left corner, the words "At Home" being +slightly larger than those of the rest of the invitation. When both "At" +and "Home" are written with a capital letter, this is the most punctilious +and formal invitation that it is possible to send. It is engraved in +script usually, on a card of white Bristol board about five and a half +inches wide and three and three-quarters of an inch high. Like the wedding +invitation it has an embossed crest without color, or nothing. + +The precise form is: + + Mr. and Mrs. Titherington de Payster + + At Home + + On Monday the third of January + + at ten o'clock + + One East Fiftieth Street + + The favour of an answer + is requested Dancing + +or + + Mr. and Mrs. Davis Jefferson + + At Home + + On Monday the third of January + + at ten o'clock + + Town and Country Club + + Kindly send reply to + Three Mt. Vernon Square Dancing + +(_If preferred, the above invitations may be engraved in block or shaded +block type._) + + +=BALL FOR DEBUTANTE DAUGHTER= + +Very occasionally an invitation is worded + + Mr. and Mrs. Davis Jefferson + + Miss Alice Jefferson + + At Home + +if the daughter is a debutante and the ball is for her, but it is not +strictly correct to have any names but those of the host and his wife +above the words "At Home." + +The proper form of invitation when the ball is to be given for a +debutante, is as follows: + + Mr. and Mrs. de Puyster + + request the pleasure of + + [HW: Miss Rosalie Gray's] + + company at a dance in honour of their daughter + + Miss Alice de Puyster + + on Monday evening, the third of January + + at ten o'clock + + One East Fiftieth Street + + R.s.v.p. + +or + + Mr. and Mrs. Titherington de Puyster + + Miss Alice de Puyster + + request the pleasure of + + [HW: Mr. and Mrs. Greatlake's] + + company on Monday evening the third of January + + at ten o'clock + + One East Fiftieth Street + + Dancing + R.s.v.p. + +The form most often used by fashionable hostesses in New York and Newport +is: + + Mr. and Mrs. Gilding + + request the pleasure of + + + company at a small dance + + on Monday the first of January + + at Ought Ought Fifth Avenue + +Even if given for a debutante daughter, her name does not appear, and it +is called a "small dance," whether it is really small or big. The request +for a reply is often omitted, since everyone is supposed to know that an +answer is necessary. But if the dance, or dinner, or whatever the +entertainment is to be, is given at one address and the hostess lives at +another, both addresses are always given: + + Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Oldname + + request the pleasure of + + + company at a dance + + on Monday evening the sixth of January + + at ten o'clock + + The Fitz-Cherry + + + Kindly send response to + Brookmeadows + L.I. + +If the dance is given for a young friend who is not a relative, Mr. and +Mrs. Oldname's invitations should + + request the pleasure of + + + company at a dance in honour of + + Miss Rosalie Grey + + +=WHEN AND HOW ONE MAY ASK FOR AN INVITATION FOR A STRANGER= + +One may never ask for an invitation for oneself anywhere! And one may not +ask for an invitation to a luncheon or a dinner for a stranger. But an +invitation for any general entertainment may be asked for a +stranger--especially for a house-guest. + +Example: + + Dear Mrs. Worldly, + + A young cousin of mine, David Blakely from Chicago, is staying + with us. + + May Pauline take him to your dance on Friday? If it will be + inconvenient for you to include him, please do not hesitate to + say so frankly. + + Very sincerely yours, + Caroline Robinson Town. + +Answer: + + Dear Mrs. Town, + + I shall be delighted to have Pauline bring Mr. Blakely on the + tenth. + + Sincerely yours, + Edith Worldly. + +Or + +A man might write for an invitation for a friend. But a very young girl +should not ask for an invitation for a man--or anyone--since it is more +fitting that her mother ask for her. An older girl might say to Mrs. +Worldly, "My cousin is staying with us, may I bring him to your dance?" Or +if she knows Mrs. Worldly very well she might send a message by telephone: +"Miss Town would like to know whether she may bring her cousin, Mr. +Michigan, to Mrs. Worldly's dance." + + +=CARD OF GENERAL INVITATION= + +Invitations to important entertainments are nearly always especially +engraved, so that nothing is written except the name of the person +invited; but, for the hostess who entertains constantly, a card which is +engraved in blank, so that it may serve for dinner, luncheon, dance, +garden party, musical, or whatever she may care to give, is indispensable. + +The spacing of the model shown below, the proportion of the words, and the +size of the card, are especially good. + + Mrs. Stevens + + requests the pleasure of + + + company at + + on + + at o'clock + + Two Elm Place + + +=THE DINNER INVITATION= + +The blank which may be used only for dinner: + + Mr. and Mrs. Huntington Jones + + request the pleasure of + + + company at dinner + + on + + at eight o'clock + + at Two Thousand Fifth Avenue + +(_For type and spacing follow model on p. 118._) + + +=INVITATIONS TO RECEPTIONS AND TEAS= + +Invitations to receptions and teas differ from invitations to balls in +that the cards on which they are engraved are usually somewhat smaller, +the words "At Home" with capital letters are changed to "will be at home" +with small letters, and the time is not set at the hour. Also, except on +very unusual occasions, a man's name does not appear. The name of the +debutante for whom the tea is given is put under that of her mother, and +sometimes under that of her sister or the bride of her brother. + + Mrs. James Town + + Mrs. James Town, junior + + Miss Pauline Town + + will be at home + + On Tuesday the eighth of December + + from four until six o'clock + + Two Thousand Fifth Avenue. + +Mr. Town's name would probably appear with that of his wife if he were an +artist, and the reception was given in his studio to view his pictures, or +if a reception were given to meet a distinguished guest such as a bishop +or a governor, in which case "In honour of the Right Reverend William +Powell," or "To meet His Excellency the Governor," is at the top of the +invitation. + + +=THE FORMAL INVITATION WHICH IS WRITTEN= + +When the formal invitation to dinner or lunch is written instead of +engraved, note paper stamped with house or personal device is used. The +wording and spacing must follow the engraved models exactly. + + 350 PARK AVENUE + + Mr. and Mrs. John Kindhart + + request the pleasure of + + Mr. and Mrs. Robert Gilding Jr.'s + + company at Dinner + + on Tuesday the sixth of December + + at eight o'clock. + +It must _not_ be written: + +350 PARK AVENUE + +TELEPHONE 7572 PLAZA + +Mr. & Mrs. J. Kindhart request the pleasure of Mr. & Mrs. James +Town's Company at Dinner on Tuesday etc. + +The foregoing example has four faults: + +(1) Letters in the third person must follow the prescribed form. This does +not. (2) The writing is crowded against the margin. (3) The telephone +number should be used only for business and informal notes and letters. +(4) The full name John should be used instead of the initial "J." "Mr. and +Mrs." is better form than "Mr. & Mrs." + + +=RECALLING AN INVITATION= + +If for illness or other reason invitations have to be recalled the +following forms are correct. They are always printed instead of engraved, +there being no time for engraving. + + Owing to sudden illness + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith + are obliged to recall their invitations + for Tuesday the tenth of June. + +The form used when the invitation is postponed: + + Mr. and Mrs. John Huntington Smith + regret exceedingly + that owing to the illness of Mrs. Smith + their dance is temporarily postponed. + +When a wedding is broken off after the invitations have been issued: + + Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Nottingham + announce + that the marriage of their daughter + Mary Katharine + and + Mr. Jerrold Atherton + will not take place + + +=FORMAL ACCEPTANCE OR REGRET= + +Acceptances or regrets are always written. An engraved form to be filled +in is vulgar--nothing could be in worse taste than to flaunt your +popularity by announcing that it is impossible to answer your numerous +invitations without the time-saving device of a printed blank. If you have +a dozen or more invitations a day, if you have a hundred, hire a staff of +secretaries if need be, but answer "by hand." + +The formal acceptance to an invitation, whether it is to a dance, wedding +breakfast or a ball, is identical: + + Mr. and Mrs. Donald Lovejoy + + accept with pleasure + + Mr. and Mrs. Smith's + + kind invitation for dinner + + on Monday the tenth of December + + at eight o'clock + +The formula for regret: + + Mr. Clubwin Doe + regrets extremely that a previous engagement + prevents his accepting + Mr. and Mrs. Smith's + kind invitation for dinner + on Monday the tenth of December + +or + + Mr. and Mrs. Timothy Kerry + + regret that they are unable to accept + + Mr. and Mrs. Smith's + + kind invitation for dinner + + on Monday the tenth of December + +In accepting an invitation the day and hour must be repeated, so that in +case of mistake it may be rectified and prevent one from arriving on a day +when one is not expected. But in declining an invitation it is not +necessary to repeat the hour. + + +=VISITING CARD INVITATIONS= + +With the exception of invitations to house-parties, dinners and luncheons, +the writing of notes is past. For an informal dance, musical, picnic, for +a tea to meet a guest, or for bridge, a lady uses her ordinary visiting +card: + + To meet Miss Millicent Gilding + + =MRS. JOHN KINDHART= + +Tues. Jan. 7. Dancing at 10. o'ck. 350 PARK AVENUE + +or + + Wed. Jan. 8. Bridge at 4. o'ck. + + =MRS. JOHN KINDHART= + + R.s.v.p. 350 PARK AVENUE + +Answers to invitations written on visiting cards are always formally +worded in the third person, precisely as though the invitation had been +engraved. + + +=INVITATIONS IN THE SECOND PERSON= + +The informal dinner and luncheon invitation is not spaced according to set +words on each line, but is written merely in two paragraphs. Example: + + + Dear Mrs. Smith: + + Will you and Mr. Smith dine with us on Thursday, the seventh of + January, at eight o'clock? + + Hoping so much for the pleasure of seeing you, + + Very sincerely, + + Caroline Robinson Town. + + +=THE INFORMAL NOTE OF ACCEPTANCE OR REGRET= + + Dear Mrs. Town: + + It will give us much pleasure to dine with you on Thursday the + seventh, at eight o'clock. + + Thanking you for your kind thought of us, + + Sincerely yours, + + Margaret Smith. + +Wednesday. + +or + + Dear Mrs. Town: + + My husband and I will dine with you on Thursday the seventh, at + eight o'clock, with greatest pleasure. + + Thanking you so much for thinking of us, + + Always sincerely, + + Margaret Smith. + +or + + Dear Mrs. Town: + + We are so sorry that we shall be unable to dine with you on the + seventh, as we have a previous engagement. + + With many thanks for your kindness in thinking of us, + + Very sincerely, + + Ethel Norman. + + +=INVITATION TO COUNTRY HOUSE= + +To an intimate friend: + + Dear Sally: + + Will you and Jack (and the baby and nurse, of course) come out + the 28th (Friday), and stay for ten days? Morning and evening + trains take only forty minutes, and it won't hurt Jack to commute + for the weekdays between the two Sundays! I am sure the country + will do you and the baby good, or at least it will do me good to + have you here. + + With much love, affectionately, + Ethel Norman. + +To a friend of one's daughter: + + Dear Mary: + + Will you and Jim come on Friday the first for the Worldly dance, + and stay over Sunday? Muriel asks me to tell you that Helen and + Dick, and also Jimmy Smith are to be here and she particularly + hopes that you will come, too. + + The three-twenty from New York is the best train--much. Though + there is a four-twenty and a five-sixteen, in case Jim is not + able to take the earlier one. + + Very sincerely, + + Alice Jones. + +Confirming a verbal invitation: + + Dear Helen: + + This note is merely to remind you that you and Dick are coming + here for the Worldly dance on the sixth. Mother is expecting you + on the three-twenty train, and will meet you here at the station. + + Affectionately, + Muriel. + +Invitation to a house party at a camp: + + Dear Miss Strange: + + Will you come up here on the sixth of September and stay until + the sixteenth? It would give us all the greatest pleasure. There + is a train leaving Broadway Station at 8.03 A.M. which will get + you to Dustville Junction at 5 P.M. and here in time for supper. + + It is only fair to warn you that the camp is very primitive; we + have no luxuries, but we can make you fairly comfortable if you + like an outdoor life and are not too exacting. Please do not + bring a maid or any clothes that the woods or weather can ruin. + You will need nothing but outdoor things: walking boots (if you + care to walk), a bathing suit (if you care to swim in the lake), + and something comfortable rather than smart for evening (if you + care to dress for supper). But on no account bring evening, or + any _good_ clothes! + + Hoping so much that camping appeals to you and that we shall see + you on the evening of the sixth, + + Very sincerely yours, + Martha Kindhart. + + +=THE INVITATION BY TELEPHONE= + +Custom which has altered many ways and manners has taken away all +opprobrium from the message by telephone, and with the exception of those +of a very small minority of letter-loving hostesses, all informal +invitations are sent and answered by telephone. Such messages, however, +follow a prescribed form: + + "Is this Lenox 0000? Will you please ask Mr. and Mrs. Smith if + they will dine with Mrs. Grantham Jones next Tuesday the tenth at + eight o'clock? Mrs. Jones' telephone number is Plaza, one two + ring two." + +The answer: + + "Mr. and Mrs. Huntington Smith regret that they will be unable to + dine with Mrs. Jones on Tuesday the tenth, as they are engaged + for that evening. + +Or + + "Will you please tell Mrs. Jones that Mr. and Mrs. Huntington + Smith are very sorry that they will be unable to dine with her + next Tuesday, and thank her for asking them." + +Or + + "Please tell Mrs. Jones that Mr. and Mrs. Huntington Smith will + dine with her on Tuesday the tenth, with pleasure." + +The formula is the same, whether the invitation is to dine or lunch, or +play bridge or tennis, or golf, or motor, or go on a picnic. + + "Will Mrs. Smith play bridge with Mrs. Grantham Jones this + afternoon at the Country Club, at four o'clock?" + + "Hold the wire please * * * Mrs. Jones will play bridge, with + pleasure at four o'clock." + +In many houses, especially where there are several grown sons or +daughters, a blank form is kept in the pantry: + + Will + with M + on the + at o'clock. Telephone number + Accept + Regret + +These slips are taken to whichever member of the family has been invited, +who crosses off "regret" or "accept" and hands the slip back for +transmission by the butler, the parlor-maid or whoever is on duty in the +pantry. + +If Mr. Smith and Mrs. Jones are themselves telephoning there is no long +conversation, but merely: + + Mrs. Jones: + + "Is that you Mrs. Smith (or Sarah)? This is Mrs. Jones (or + Alice). Will you and your husband (or John) dine with us + to-morrow at eight o'clock?" + + Mrs. Smith: + + "I'm so sorry we can't. We are dining with Mabel." + +Or + + "We have people coming here." + +Invitations to a house party are often as not telephoned: + + "Hello, Ethel? This is Alice. Will you and Arthur come on the + sixteenth for over Sunday?" + + "The sixteenth? That's Friday. We'd love to!" + + "Will you take the 3:20 train? etc." + +[Illustration: "A GEM OF A HOUSE MAY BE NO SIZE AT ALL, BUT ITS LINES +ARE HONEST, AND ITS PAINTING AND WINDOW CURTAINS IN GOOD TASTE ... AND ITS +BELL IS ANSWERED PROMPTLY BY A TRIM MAID WITH A LOW VOICE AND QUIET, +COURTEOUS MANNER." [Page 131.]] + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE WELL-APPOINTED HOUSE + + +Every house has an outward appearance to be made as presentable as +possible, an interior continually to be set in order, and incessantly to +be cleaned. And for those that dwell within it there are meals to be +prepared and served; linen to be laundered and mended; personal garments +to be brushed and pressed; and perhaps children to be cared for. There is +also a door-bell to be answered in which manners as well as appearance +come into play. + +Beyond these fundamental necessities, luxuries can be added indefinitely, +such as splendor of architecture, of gardening, and of furnishing, with +every refinement of service that executive ability can produce. With all +this genuine splendor possible only to the greatest establishments, a +little house can no more compete than a diamond weighing but half a carat +can compete with a stone weighing fifty times as much. And this is a good +simile, because the perfect little house may be represented by a corner +cut from precisely the same stone and differing therefore merely in size +(and value naturally), whereas the house in bad taste and improperly run +may be represented by a diamond that is off color and full of flaws; or in +some instances, merely a piece of glass that to none but those as ignorant +as its owner, for a moment suggests a gem of value. + +A gem of a house may be no size at all, but its lines are honest, and its +painting and window curtains in good taste. As for its upkeep, its path or +sidewalk is beautifully neat, steps scrubbed, brasses polished, and its +bell answered promptly by a trim maid with a low voice and quiet courteous +manner; all of which contributes to the impression of "quality" evens +though it in nothing suggests the luxury of a palace whose opened bronze +door reveals a row of powdered footmen. + +But the "mansion" of bastard architecture and crude paint, with its brass +indifferently clean, with coarse lace behind the plate glass of its +golden-oak door, and the bell answered at eleven in the morning by a +butler in an ill fitting dress suit and wearing a mustache, might as well +be placarded: "Here lives a vulgarian who has never had an opportunity to +acquire cultivation." As a matter of fact, the knowledge of how to make a +house distinguished both in appearance and in service, is a much higher +test than presenting a distinguished appearance in oneself and acquiring +presentable manners. There are any number of people who dress well, and in +every way appear well, but a lack of breeding is apparent as soon as you +go into their houses. Their servants have not good manners, they are not +properly turned out, the service is not well done, and the decorations and +furnishings show lack of taste and inviting arrangement. + +The personality of a house is indefinable, but there never lived a lady of +great cultivation and charm whose home, whether a palace, a farm-cottage +or a tiny apartment, did not reflect the charm of its owner. Every visitor +feels impelled to linger, and is loath to go. Houses without personality +are a series of rooms with furniture in them. Sometimes their lack of +charm is baffling; every article is "correct" and beautiful, but one has +the feeling that the decorator made chalk-marks indicating the exact spot +on which each piece of furniture is to stand. Other houses are filled with +things of little intrinsic value, often with much that is shabby, or they +are perhaps empty to the point of bareness, and yet they have that +"inviting" atmosphere, and air of unmistakable quality which is an +unfailing indication of high-bred people. + + +="BECOMING" FURNITURE= + +Suitability is the test of good taste always. The manner to the moment, +the dress to the occasion, the article to the place, the furniture to the +background. And yet to combine many periods in one and commit no +anachronism, to put something French, something Spanish, something +Italian, and something English into an American house and have the +result the perfection of American taste--is a feat of legerdemain that has +been accomplished time and again. + +[Illustration: "THE PERSONALITY OF A HOUSE IS INDEFINABLE, BUT THERE NEVER +LIVED A LADY OF GREAT CULTIVATION AND CHARM WHOSE HOME, WHETHER A PALACE, +A FARM-COTTAGE OR A TINY APARTMENT, DID NOT REFLECT THE CHARM OF ITS +OWNER." [Page 132.]] + +A woman of great taste follows fashion in house furnishing, just as she +follows fashion in dress, in general principles only. She wears what is +becoming to her own type, and she puts in her house only such articles as +are becoming to it. + +That a quaint old-fashioned house should be filled with quaint +old-fashioned pieces of furniture, in size proportionate to the size of +the rooms, and that rush-bottomed chairs and rag-carpets have no place in +a marble hall, need not be pointed out. But to an amazing number of +persons, proportion seems to mean nothing at all. They will put a huge +piece of furniture in a tiny room so that the effect is one of painful +indigestion; or they will crowd things all into one corner--so that it +seems about to capsize; or they will spoil a really good room by the +addition of senseless and inappropriately cluttering objects, in the +belief that because they are valuable they must be beautiful, regardless +of suitability. Sometimes a room is marred by "treasures" clung to for +reasons of sentiment. + + +=THE BLINDNESS OF SENTIMENT= + +It is almost impossible for any of us to judge accurately of things which +we have throughout a lifetime been accustomed to. A chair that was +grandmother's, a painting father bought, the silver that has always been +on the dining table--are all so part of ourselves that we are +sentiment-blind to their defects. + +For instance, the portrait of a Colonial officer, among others, has always +hung in Mrs. Oldname's dining-room. One day an art critic, whose knowledge +was better than his manners, blurted out, "Will you please tell me why you +have that dreadful thing in this otherwise perfect room?" Mrs. Oldname, +somewhat taken back, answered rather wonderingly: "Is it +dreadful?--Really? I have a feeling of affection for him and his dog!" + +The critic was merciless. "If you call a cotton-flannel effigy, a dog! And +as for the figure, it is equally false and lifeless! It is amazing how +any one with your taste can bear looking at it!" In spite of his rudeness, +Mrs. Oldname saw that what he said was quite true, but not until the fact +had been pointed out to her. Gradually she grew to dislike the poor +officer so much that he was finally relegated to the attic. In the same +way most of us have belongings that have "always been there" or perhaps +"treasures" that we love for some association, which are probably as bad +as can be, to which habit has blinded us, though we would not have to be +told of their hideousness were they seen by us in the house of another. + +It is not to be expected that all people can throw away every esthetically +unpleasing possession, with which nearly every house twenty-five years ago +was filled, but those whose pocket-book and sentiment will permit, would +add greatly to the beauty of their houses by sweeping the bad into the ash +can! Far better have stone-ware plates that are good in design than +expensive porcelain that is horrible in decoration. + +The only way to determine what is good and what is horrible is to study +what is good in books, in museums, or in art classes in the universities, +or even by studying the magazines devoted to decorative art. + +Be very careful though. Do not mistake modern eccentricities for "art." +There are frightful things in vogue to-day--flamboyant colors, grotesque, +triangular and oblique designs that can not possibly be other than bad, +because aside from striking novelty, there is nothing good about them. By +no standard can a room be in good taste that looks like a perfume +manufacturer's phantasy or a design reflected in one of the distorting +mirrors that are mirth-provokers at county fairs. + + +=TO DETERMINE AN OBJECT'S WORTH= + +In buying an article for a house one might formulate for oneself a few +test questions: + +First, is it useful? Anything that is really useful has a reason for +existence. + +Second, has it _really_ beauty of form and line and color? + +(Texture is not so important.) Or is it merely striking, or amusing? + +Third, is it entirely suitable for the position it occupies? + +Fourth, if it were eliminated would it be missed? Would something else +look as well or better, in its place? Or would its place look as well +empty? A truthful answer to these questions would at least help in +determining its value, since an article that failed in any of them could +not be "perfect." + +Fashion affects taste--it is bound to. We abominate Louis the Fourteenth +and Empire styles at the moment, because curves and super-ornamentation +are out of fashion; whether they are really bad or not, time alone can +tell. At present we are admiring plain silver and are perhaps exacting +that it be too plain? The only safe measure of what is good, is to choose +that which has best endured. The "King" and the "Fiddle" pattern for flat +silver, have both been in use in houses of highest fashion ever since they +were designed, so that they, among others, must have merit to have so long +endured. + +In the same way examples of old potteries and china and glass, at present +being reproduced, are very likely good, because after having been for a +century or more in disuse, they are again being chosen. Perhaps one might +say that the "second choice" is "proof of excellence." + + +=SERVICE= + +The subject of furnishings is however the least part of this +chapter--appointments meaning decoration being of less importance (since +this is not a book on architecture or decoration!), than appointments +meaning _service_. + +But before going into the various details of service, it might be a good +moment to speak of the unreasoning indignity cast upon the honorable +vocation of a servant. + +There is an inexplicable tendency, in this country only, for working +people in general to look upon domestic service as an unworthy, if not +altogether degrading vocation. The cause may perhaps be found in the fact +that this same scorning public having for the most part little opportunity +to know high-class servants, who are to be found only in high-class +families, take it for granted that ignorant "servant girls" and "hired +men" are representative of their kind. Therefore they put upper class +servants in the same category--regardless of whether they are uncouth and +illiterate, or persons of refined appearance and manner who often have +considerable cultivation, acquired not so much at school as through the +constant contact with ultra refinement of surroundings, and not +infrequently through the opportunity for world-wide travel. + +And yet so insistently has this obloquy of the word "servant" spread that +every one sensitive to the feelings of others avoids using it exactly as +one avoids using the word "cripple" when speaking to one who is slightly +lame. Yet are not the best of us "servants" in the Church? And the highest +of us "servants" of the people and the State? + +To be a slattern in a vulgar household is scarcely an elevated employment, +but neither is working in a sweat-shop, or belonging to a calling that is +really degraded; which is otherwise about all that equal lack of ability +would procure. On the other hand, consider the vocation of a lady's maid +or "_courier_" valet and compare the advantages these enjoy (to say +nothing of their never having to worry about overhead expenses), with the +opportunities of those who have never been out of the "factory" or the +"store" or further away than the adjoining town in their lives. As for a +nurse, is there any vocation more honorable? No character in E.F. Benson's +"Our Family Affairs" is more beautiful or more tenderly drawn than that of +"Beth," who was not only nurse to the children of the Archbishop of +Canterbury but one of the most dearly beloved of the family's members--her +place was absolutely next to their mother's in the very heart of the +household always. + +Two years ago, Anna, who had for a lifetime been Mrs. Gilding's personal +maid, died. Every engagement of that seemingly frivolous family was +cancelled, even the invitations for their ball. Not one of the family but +mourned for what she truly was, their humble but nearest friend. Would it +have been so much better, so much more dignified, for these two women, who +lived long useful years in closest association with every cultivating +influence of life, to have lived on in their native villages and worked in +a factory, or to have had a little store of their own? Does this false +idea of dignity--since it _is_ false--go so far as that? + + +=HOW MANY SERVANTS FOR CORRECT SERVICE?= + +It stands to reason that one may expect more perfect service from a +"specialist" than from one whose functions are multiple. But small houses +that have a double equipment--meaning an alternate who can go in the +kitchen, and two for the dining-room--can be every bit as well run, so far +as essentials go, as the palaces of the Gildings and the Worldlys, though +of course not with the same impressiveness. But good service is badly +handicapped if, when the waitress goes out, there is no one to open the +door, or when the cook goes out, there is no one to prepare a meal. + +For what one might call "complete" service, (meaning service that is +adequate for constant entertaining and can stand comparison with the most +luxurious establishments,) three are the minimum--a cook, a butler (or +waitress) and a housemaid. The reason why luncheons and dinners can not be +"perfectly" given with a waitress alone is because two persons are +necessary for the exactions of modern standards of service. Yet one alone +can, on occasion, manage very well, if attention is paid to ordering an +especial menu for single-handed service--described on page 233. Aside from +the convenience of a second person in the dining-room, a house can not be +run very comfortably and smoothly without alternating shifts in staying in +and going out. The waitress being on "duty" to answer bell and telephone +and serve tea one afternoon, and the housemaid taking her place the next. +They also alternate in going out every other evening after dinner. + +It should be realized that above the number necessary for essentials, each +additional chambermaid, parlor-maid, footman, scullery maid or useful man, +is made necessary by the size of the house and by the amount of +entertaining usual, rather than (as is often supposed) for the mere reason +of show. The seemingly superfluous number of footmen at Golden Hall and +Great Estates are, aside from standing on parade at formal parties, needed +actually to do the immense amount of work that houses of such size entail; +whereas a small apartment can be fairly well looked after by one alone. + +All house employees and details of their several duties, manners, and +appearances, are enumerated below. Beginning with the greatest and most +complicated establishments possible, the employee of highest rank is: + + +=THE SECRETARY WHO IS ALSO COMPANION= + +The position of companion, which is always one of social equality with her +employer, exists only when the lady of the house is an invalid, or very +elderly, or a widow, or a young girl. (In the latter case the "companion" +is a "chaperon.") + +Her secretarial duties consist in writing impersonal letters and notes and +probably paying bills; she may have occasional invitations to send out, +and to answer, though a lady needing a companion is not apt to be greatly +interested in social activities. The companion never performs the services +of a maid--but she occasionally does the housekeeping. Otherwise her +duties can not very well be set down, because they vary with individual +requirements. One lady likes continually to travel and merely wants a +companion, (usually a poor relative or friend) to go with her. Another who +is a semi-invalid never leaves her room, and the duties of her companion +are almost those of a trained nurse. The average requirement is in being +personally agreeable, tactful, intelligent, and--companionable! + +A companion dresses as any other lady does; according to the occasion, her +personal taste, her age, and her means. + + +=VARIED SOCIAL STANDING OF THE PRIVATE SECRETARY= + +The private secretary to a diplomat, since, he must first pass the +diplomatic examination in order to qualify, is invariably a young man of +education, if not of birth, and his social position is always that of a +member of his "chief's" family. + +The position of an ordinary private secretary is sometimes that of an +upper servant, or, on the other hand, his own social position may be much +higher than that of his employer. A secretary who either has position of +his own or is given position by his employer, is in every way treated as a +member of the family; he is present at all general entertainments; and +quite as often as not at lunches and dinners. The duties of a private +secretary are naturally to attend to all correspondence, take shorthand +notes of speeches or conversations, file papers and documents and in every +way serve as extra eyes and hands and supplementary brain for his +employer. + + +=THE SOCIAL SECRETARY= + +The position of social secretary is an entirely clerical one, and never +confers any "social privileges" unless the secretary is also "companion." + +Her duties are to write all invitations, acceptances, and regrets; keep a +record of every invitation received and every one sent out, and to enter +in an engagement book every engagement made for her employer, whether to +lunch, dinner, to be fitted, or go to the dentist. She also writes all +impersonal notes, takes longer letters in shorthand, and writes others +herself after being told their purport. She also audits all bills and +draws the checks for them, the checks are filled in and then presented to +her employer to be signed, after which they are put in their envelopes, +sealed and sent. When the receipted bills are returned, the secretary +files them according to her own method, where they can at any time be +found by her if needed for reference. In many cases it is she (though it +is most often the butler) who telephones invitations and other messages. + +Occasionally a social secretary is also a social manager; devises +entertainments and arranges all details such as the decorations of the +house for a dance, or a programme of entertainment following a very large +dinner. The social secretary very rarely lives in the house of her +employer; more often than not she goes also to one or two other +houses--since there is seldom work enough in one to require her whole +time. + +Miss Brisk, who is Mrs. Gilding's secretary, has little time for any one +else. She goes every day for from two to sometimes eight or nine hours in +town, and at Golden Hall lives in the house. Usually a secretary can +finish all there is to do in an average establishment in about an hour, or +at most two, a day, with the addition of five or six hours on two or three +other days each month for the paying of bills. + +Supposing she takes three positions; she goes to Mrs. A. from 8.30 to 10 +every day, and for three extra hours on the 10th and 11th of every month. +To Mrs. B. from 10.30 to 1 (her needs being greater) and for six extra +hours on the 12th, 13th and 14th of every month. And to Mrs. C. every day +at 3 o'clock for an indefinite time of several hours or only a few +minutes. + +Her dress is that of any business woman. Conspicuous clothes are out of +keeping as they would be out of keeping in an office; which, however, is +no reason why she should not be well dressed. Well-cut tailor-made suits +are the most appropriate with a good-looking but simple hat; as good shoes +as she can possibly afford, and good gloves and immaculately clean shirt +waists, represent about the most dignified and practical clothes. But why +describe clothes! Every woman with good sense enough to qualify as a +secretary has undoubtedly sense enough to dress with dignity. + + +=THE HOUSEKEEPER= + +In a very big house the housekeeper usually lives in the house. Smaller +establishments often have a "visiting housekeeper" who comes for as long +as she is needed each morning. The resident housekeeper has her own +bedroom and bath and sitting-room always. Her meals are brought to her by +an especial kitchen-maid, called in big houses the "hall girl," or +occasionally the butler details an under footman to that duty. + +In an occasional house all the servants, the gardener as well as the cook +and butler and nurses, come under the housekeeper's authority; in other +words, she superintends the entire house exactly as a very conscientious +and skilled mistress would do herself, if she gave her whole time and +attention to it. She engages the servants, and if necessary, dismisses +them; she sees the cook, orders meals, goes to the market, or at least +supervises the cook's market orders, and likewise engages and apportions +the work of the men servants. + +Ordinarily, however, she is in charge of no one but the housemaids, +parlor-maids, useful man and one of the scullery maids. The cook, butler, +nurses and lady's maid do not come under her supervision. But should +difficulties arise between herself and them it would be within her +province to ask for their dismissal which would probably be granted; since +she would not ask without grave cause that involved much more than her +personal dislike. A good housekeeper is always a woman of experience and +tact, and often a lady; friction is, therefore, extremely rare. + + +=THE ORGANIZATION OF A GREAT HOUSE= + +The management of a house of greatest size, is divided usually into +several distinct departments, each under its separate head. The +housekeeper has charge of the appearance of the house and of its contents; +the manners and looks of the housemaids and parlor-maids, as well as their +work in cleaning walls, floors, furniture, pictures, ornaments, books, and +taking care of linen. + +The butler has charge of the pantry and dining-room. He engages all +footmen, apportions their work and is responsible for their appearance, +manners and efficiency. + +The cook is in charge of the kitchen, under-cook and kitchen-maids. + +The nurse and the personal maid and cook are under the direction of the +lady of the house. The butler and the valet as well as the chauffeur and +gardener are engaged by the gentleman of the house. + + +=THE BUTLER= + +The butler is not only the most important servant in every big +establishment, but it is by no means unheard of for him to be in supreme +command, not only as steward, but as housekeeper as well. + +At the Worldly's for instance, Hastings who is actually the butler, orders +all the supplies, keeps the household accounts and engages not only the +men servants but the housemaids, parlor-maids and even the chef. + +But normally in a great house, the butler has charge of his own department +only, and his own department is the dining-room and pantry, or possibly +the whole parlor floor. In all smaller establishments the butler is always +the valet--and in many great ones he is valet to his employer, even though +he details a footman to look after other gentlemen of the family or +visitors. + +In a small house the butler works a great deal with his hands and not so +much with his head. In a great establishment, the butler works very much +with his head, and with his hands not at all. + +At Golden Hall where guests come in dozens at a time (both in the house +and the guest annex), his stewardship--even though there is a +housekeeper--is not a job which a small man can fill. He has perhaps +thirty men under him at big dinners, ten who belong under him in the house +always; he has the keys to the wine cellar and the combination of the +silver safe. (The former being in this day by far the greater +responsibility!) He also chooses the china and glass and linen as well as +the silver to be used each day, oversees the setting of the table, and the +serving of all food. When there is a house party every breakfast tray that +leaves the pantry is first approved by him. + +At all meals he stands behind the chair of the lady of the house--in other +words, at the head of the table. In occasional houses, the butler stands +at the opposite end as he is supposed to be better able to see any +directions given him. At Golden Hall the butler stands behind Mr. Gilding +but at Great Estates Hastings invariably stands behind Mrs. Worldly's +chair so that at the slightest turn of her head, he need only take a step +to be within reach of her voice. (The husband by the way is "head of the +house," but the wife is "head of the table.") + +At tea time, he oversees the footmen who place the tea-table, put on the +tea cloth and carry in the tea tray, after which Hastings himself places +the individual tables. When there is "no dinner at home" he waits in the +hall and assists Mr. Worldly into his coat, and hands him his hat and +stick, which have previously been handed to the butler by one of the +footmen. + + +_The Butler in a Smaller House_ + +In a smaller house, the butler also takes charge of the wines and silver, +does very much the same as the butler in the bigger house, except that he +has less overseeing of others and more work to do himself. Where he is +alone, he does all the work--naturally. Where he has either one footman or +a parlor-maid, he passes the main courses at the table and his assistant +passes the secondary dishes. + +He is also valet not only for the gentleman of the house but for any +gentleman guests as well. + + +_What the Butler Wears_ + +The butler never wears the livery of a footman and on no account knee +breeches or powder. In the early morning he wears an ordinary sack +suit--black or very dark blue--with a dark, inconspicuous tie. For +luncheon or earlier, if he is on duty at the door, he wears black +trousers, with gray stripes, a double-breasted, high-cut, black waistcoat, +and black swallowtail coat without satin on the revers, a white +stiff-bosomed shirt with standing collar, and a black four-in-hand tie. + +In fashionable houses, the butler does not put on his dress suit until +six o'clock. The butler's evening dress differs from that of a gentleman +in a few details only: he has no braid on his trousers, and the satin on +his lapels (if any) is narrower, but the most distinctive difference is +that a butler wears a black waistcoat and a white lawn tie, and a +gentleman always wears a white waistcoat with a white tie, or a white +waistcoat and a black tie with a dinner coat, but never the reverse. + +Unless he is an old-time colored servant in the South a butler who wears a +"dress suit" in the daytime is either a hired waiter who has come in to +serve a meal, or he has never been employed by persons of position; and it +is unnecessary to add that none but vulgarians would employ a butler (or +any other house servant) who wears a mustache! To have him open the door +collarless and in shirt-sleeves is scarcely worse! + +A butler never wears gloves, nor a flower in his buttonhole. He sometimes +wears a very thin watch chain in the daytime but none at night. He never +wears a scarf-pin, or any jewelry that is for ornament alone. His +cuff-links should be as plain as possible, and his shirt studs white +enamel ones that look like linen. + + +=THE HOUSE FOOTMEN= + +All house servants who assist in waiting on the table come under the +direction of the butler, and are known as footmen. One who never comes +into the dining-room is known as a useful man. The duties of the footmen +(and useful man) include cleaning the dining-room, pantry, lower hall, +entrance vestibule, sidewalk, attending to the furnace, carrying coal to +the kitchen, wood to all the open fireplaces in the house, cleaning the +windows, cleaning brasses, cleaning all boots, carrying everything that is +heavy, moving furniture for the parlor-maids to clean behind it, valeting +all gentlemen, setting and waiting on table, attending the front door, +telephoning and writing down messages, and--incessantly and ceaselessly, +cleaning and polishing silver. + +In a small house, the butler polishes silver, but in a very big house one +of the footmen is silver specialist, and does nothing else. Nothing! If +there is to be a party of any sort he puts on his livery and joins the +others who line the hall and bring dishes to the table. But he does not +assist in setting the table or washing dishes or in cleaning anything +whatsoever--except silver. + +The butler also usually answers the telephone--if not, it is answered by +the first footman. The first footman is deputy butler. + +The footmen also take turns in answering the door. In houses of great +ceremony like those of the Worldlys' and the Gildings', there are always +two footmen at the door if anyone is to be admitted. One to open the door +and the other to conduct a guest into the drawing-room. But if formal +company is expected, the butler himself is in the front hall with one or +two footmen at the door. + + +_The Footmen's Livery_ + +People who have big houses usually choose a color for their livery and +never change it. Maroon and buff, for instance, are the colors of the +Gildings; all their motor cars are maroon with buff lines and +cream-colored or maroon linings. The chauffeurs and outside footmen wear +maroon liveries. The house footmen, for everyday, wear ordinary footmen's +liveries, maroon trousers and long-tailed coats with brass buttons and +maroon-and-buff striped waistcoats. + +For gala occasions, Mrs. Gilding adds as many caterer's men as necessary, +but they all are dressed in her full-dress livery, consisting of a "court" +coat which comes together at the neck in front, and then cuts away to long +tails at the back. The coat is of maroon broadcloth with frogs and +epaulets of black braiding. There is a small standing collar of buff +cloth, and a falling cravat of pleated cream-colored lace worn in front. +The waistcoat is of buff satin, the breeches of black satin, cream-colored +stockings, pumps, and the hair is powdered. It is first pomaded and then +thickly powdered. Wigs are never worn. + +Mrs. Worldly however compromises between the "court" footman and the +ordinary one, and puts her footmen in green cloth coats cut like the +everyday liveries, with silver buttons on which the crest is raised in +relief, but adds black velvet collars, and black satin waistcoats in place +of the everyday striped ones. Black satin knee breeches, black silk +stockings, and pumps with silver buckles, and their ordinary hair, cut +short. + +The powdered footman's "court" livery is, as a matter of fact, very rarely +seen. Three or four houses in New York, and one or two otherwhere, would +very likely include them all. Knee breeches are more usual, but even those +are seen in none but very lavish houses. + +To choose servants who are naturally well-groomed is more important than +putting them in smart liveries. Men must be close shaven and have their +hair well cut. Their linen must be immaculate, their shoes polished, their +clothes brushed and in press, and their finger nails clean and well cared +for. If a man's fingers are indelibly stained he would better wear white +cotton gloves. + + +=THE COOK= + +The kitchen is always in charge of the cook. In a small house, or in an +apartment, she is alone and has all the cooking, cleaning of kitchen and +larder, to do, the basement or kitchen bell to answer, and the servants' +table to set and their dishes to wash as well as her kitchen utensils. In +a bigger house, the kitchen-maid lights the kitchen fire, and does all +cleaning of kitchen and pots and pans, answers the basement bell, sets the +servants' table and washes the servants' table dishes. In a still bigger +house, the second cook cooks for the servants always, and for the children +sometimes, and assists the cook by preparing certain plainer portions of +the meals, the cook preparing all dinner dishes, sauces and the more +elaborate items on the menu. Sometimes there are two or more kitchen-maids +who merely divide the greater amount of work between them. + +In most houses of any size, the cook does all the marketing. She sees the +lady of the house every morning, and submits menus for the day. In smaller +houses, the lady does the ordering of both supplies and menus. + + +_How a Cook Submits the Menu_ + +In a house of largest size--at the Gildings for instance, the chef writes +in his "book" every evening, the menus for the next day, whether there is +to be company or not. (None, of course, if the family are to be out for +all meals.) This "book" is sent up to Mrs. Gilding with her breakfast +tray. It is a loose-leaf blank book of rather large size. The day's menu +sheet is on top, but the others are left in their proper sequence +underneath, so that by looking at her engagement book to see who dined +with her on such a date, and then looking at the menu for that same date, +she knows--if she cares to--exactly what the dinner was. + +If she does not like the chef's choice, she draws a pencil through and +writes in something else. If she has any orders or criticisms to make, she +writes them on an envelope pad, folds the page, and seals it and puts the +"note" in the book. If the menu is to be changed, the chef re-writes it, +if not the page is left as it is, and the book put in a certain place in +the kitchen. + +The butler always goes into the kitchen shortly after the book has come +down, and copies the day's menus on a pad of his own. From this he knows +what table utensils will be needed. + +This system is not necessary in medium sized or small houses, but where +there is a great deal of entertaining it is much simpler for the butler to +be able to go and "see for himself" than to ask the cook and--forget. And +ask again, and the cook forget, and then--disturbance!--because the butler +did not send down the proper silver dishes or have the proper plates +ready, or had others heated unnecessarily. + + +=THE KITCHEN-MAID= + +The kitchen-maids are under the direction of the cook, except one known +colloquially as the "hall girl" who is supervised by the housekeeper. She +is evidently a survival of the "between maid" of the English house. Her +sobriquet comes from the fact that she has charge of the servants' hall, +or dining-room, and is in fact the waitress for them. She also takes care +of the housekeeper's rooms, and carries all her meals up to her. If there +is no housekeeper, the hall girl is under the direction of the cook. + + +=THE PARLOR-MAID= + +The parlor-maid keeps the drawing-room and library in order. The useful +man brings up the wood for the fireplaces, but the parlor-maid lays the +fire. In some houses the parlor-maid takes up the breakfast trays; in +other houses, the butler does this himself and then hands them to the +lady's maid, who takes them into the bedrooms. The windows and the brasses +are cleaned by the useful man and heavy furniture moved by him so she can +clean behind them. + +The parlor-maid assists the butler in waiting at table, and washing +dishes, and takes turns with him in answering the door and the telephone. + +In huge houses like the Worldlys' and the Gildings', the footmen assist +the butler in the dining-room and at the door--and there is always a +"pantry maid" who washes dishes and cleans the pantry. + + +=THE HOUSEMAID= + +The housemaid does all the chamber work, cleans all silver on +dressing-tables, polishes fixtures in the bathroom--in other words takes +care of the bedroom floors. + +In a bigger house, the head housemaid has charge of the linen and does the +bedrooms of the lady and gentleman of the house and a few of the spare +rooms. The second housemaid does the nurseries, extra spare rooms, and the +servants' floor. The bigger the establishment, the more housemaids, and +the work is further divided. The housemaid is by many people called the +chambermaid. + + +=UNIFORMS= + +In all houses of importance and fashion, the parlor-maid and the +housemaids, and the waitress (where there is no butler), are all dressed +alike. Their "work" dresses are of plain cambric and in whatever the +"house color" may be, with large white aprons with high bibs, and Eton +collars, but no cuffs (as they must be able to unbutton their sleeves and +turn them up.) Those who serve in the dining-room must always dress before +lunch, and the afternoon dresses vary according to the taste--and +purse--of the lady of the house. Where no uniforms are supplied, each maid +is supposed to furnish herself with a plain black dress for afternoon, on +which she wears collars and cuffs of embroidered muslin usually (always +supplied her), and a small afternoon apron, with or without shoulder +straps, and with or without a cap. + +In very "beautifully done" houses (all the dresses of the maids are +furnished them), the color of the uniforms is chosen to harmonize with the +dining-room. At the Gildings', Jr., for instance, where there are no men +servants because Mr. Gilding does not like them, but where the house is as +perfect as a picture on the stage, the waitress and parlor-maid wear in +the blue and yellow dining-room, dresses of Nattier blue taffeta with +aprons and collars and cuffs of plain hemstitched cream-colored organdie, +that is as transparent as possible; blue stockings and patent leather +slippers with silver buckles, their hair always beautifully smooth. +Sometimes they wear caps and sometimes not, depending upon the waitress' +appearance. Twenty years ago, every maid in a lady's house wore a cap +except the personal maid, who wore (and still does) a velvet bow, or +nothing. But when every little slattern in every sloppy household had a +small mat of whitish Swiss pinned somewhere on an untidy head, and was +decked out in as many yards of embroidery ruffling on her apron and +shoulders as her person could carry, fashionable ladies began taking caps +and trimmings off, and exacting instead that clothes be good in cut and +hair be neatly arranged. + +A few ladies of great taste dress their maids according to individual +becomingness; some faces look well under a cap, others look the contrary. +A maid whose hair is rather fluffy--especially if it is dark--looks pretty +in a cap, particularly of the coronet variety. No one looks well in a +doily laid flat, but fluffy fair hair with a small mat tilted up against +a knot of hair dressed high can look very smart. A young woman whose hair +is straight and rebellious to order, can be made to look tidy and even +attractive in a headdress that encircles the whole head. A good one for +this purpose has a very narrow ruche from 9 to 18 inches long on either +side of a long black velvet ribbon. The ruche goes part way, or all the +way, around the head, and the velvet ribbon ties, with streamers hanging +down the back. On the other hand, many extremely pretty young women with +hair worn flat do not look well in caps of any description--except "Dutch" +ones which are, in most houses, too suggestive of fancy dress. If no caps +are worn the hair must be faultlessly smooth and neat; and of course where +two or more maids are seen together, they must be alike. It would not do +to have one wear a cap and the other not. + + +=THE LADY'S MAID= + +A first class lady's maid is required to be a hairdresser, a good packer +and an expert needlewoman. Her first duty is to keep her lady's clothes in +order and to help her dress, and undress. She draws the bath, lays out +underclothes, always brushes her lady's hair and usually dresses it, and +gets out the dress to be worn, as well as the stockings, shoes, hat, veil, +gloves, wrist bag, parasol, or whatever accessories go with the dress in +question. + +As soon as the lady is dressed, everything that has been worn is taken to +the sewing room and each article is gone over, carefully brushed if of +woolen material, cleaned if silk. Everything that is mussed is pressed, +everything that can be suspected of not being immaculate is washed or +cleaned with cleaning fluid, and when in perfect order is replaced where +it belongs in the closet. Underclothes as mended are put in the clothes +hamper. Stockings are looked over for rips or small holes, and the maid +usually washes very fine stockings herself, also lace collars or small +pieces of lace trimming. + +Some maids have to wait up at night, no matter how late, until their +ladies return; but as many, if not more, are never asked to wait longer +than a certain hour. + +But the maid for a debutante in the height of the season, between the +inevitable "go fetching" at this place and that, and mending of party +dresses danced to ribbons and soiled by partner's hands on the back, and +slippers "walked on" until there is quite as much black part as satin or +metal, has no sinecure. + + +_Why Two Maids?_ + +In very important houses where mother and daughters go out a great deal +there are usually two maids, one for the mother and one for the daughters. +But even in moderate households it is seldom practical for a debutante and +her mother to share a maid--at least during the height of the season. That +a maid who has to go out night after night for weeks and even months on +end, and sit in the dressing-rooms at balls until four and five and even +six in the morning, is then allowed to go to bed and to sleep until +luncheon is merely humane. And it can easily be seen that it is more +likely that she will need the help of a seamstress to refurbish +dance-frocks, than that she will have any time to devote to her young +lady's mother--who in "mid-season," therefore, is forced to have a maid of +her own, ridiculous as it sounds, that two maids for two ladies should be +necessary! Sometimes this is overcome by engaging an especial maid "by the +evening" to go to parties and wait, and bring the debutante home again. +And the maid at home can then be "maid for two." + + +_Dress of a Lady's Maid_ + +A lady's maid wears a black skirt, a laundered white waist, and a small +white apron, the band of which buttons in the back. + +In traveling, a lady's maid always wears a small black silk apron and some +maids wear black taffeta ones always. In the afternoon, she puts on a +black waist with white collar and cuffs. Mrs. Gilding, Jr., puts her maid +in black taffeta with embroidered collar and cuffs. For "company +occasions," when she waits in the dressing-room, she wears light gray +taffeta with a very small embroidered mull apron with a narrow black +velvet waist-ribbon, and collar and cuffs of mull to match--which is +extremely pretty, but also extremely extravagant. + + +=THE VALET= + +The valet (pronounced val-et not vallay) is what Beau Brummel called a +gentleman's gentleman. His duties are exactly the same as those of the +lady's maid--except that he does not sew! He keeps his employer's clothes +in perfect order, brushes, cleans and presses everything as soon as it has +been worn--even if only for a few moments. He lays out the clothes to be +put on, puts away everything that is a personal belonging. Some gentlemen +like their valet to help them dress; run the bath, shave them and hold +each article in readiness as it is to be put on. But most gentlemen merely +like their clothes "laid out" for them, which means that trousers have +belts or braces attached, shirts have cuff links and studs; and waistcoat +buttons are put in. + +The valet also unpacks the bags of any gentleman guests when they come, +valets them while there, and packs them when they go. He always packs for +his own gentleman, buys tickets, looks after the luggage, and makes +himself generally useful as a personal attendant, whether at home or when +traveling. + +At big dinners, he is required (much against his will) to serve as a +footman--in a footman's, not a butler's, livery. + +The valet wears no livery except on such occasions. His "uniform" is an +ordinary business suit, dark and inconspicuous in color, with a black tie. + +In a bachelor's quarters a valet is often general factotum; not only +valeting but performing the services of cook, butler, and even housemaid. + + +=THE NURSE= + +Everybody knows the nurse is either the comfort or the torment of the +house. Everyone also knows innumerable young mothers who put up with +inexcusable crankiness from a crotchety middle-aged woman because she was +"so wonderful" to the baby. And here let it be emphasized that such an one +usually turns out to have been not wonderful to the baby at all. That she +does not actually abuse a helpless infant is merely granting that she is +not a "monster." + +Devotion must always be unselfish; the nurse who is _really_ "wonderful" +to the baby is pretty sure to be a person who is kind generally. In +ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the sooner a domineering nurse--old or +young--is got rid of, the better. It has been the experience of many a +mother whose life had been made perfectly miserable through her belief +that if she dismissed the tyrant the baby would suffer, that in the +end--there _is_ always an end!--the baby was quite as relieved as the rest +of the family when the "right sort" of a kindly and humane person took the +tyrant's place. + +It is unnecessary to add that one can not be too particular in asking for +a nurse's reference and in never failing to get a personal one from the +lady she is leaving. Not only is it necessary to have a sweet-tempered, +competent and clean person, but her moral character is of utmost +importance, since she is to be the constant and inseparable companion of +the children whose whole lives are influenced by her example, especially +where busy parents give only a small portion of time to their children. + + +=COURTESY TO ONE'S HOUSEHOLD= + +In a dignified house, a servant is never spoken to as Jim, Maisie, or +Katie, but always as James or Margaret or Katherine, and a butler is +called by his last name, nearly always. The Worldly's butler, for +instance, is called Hastings, not John. In England, a lady's maid is also +called by her last name, and the cook, if married, is addressed as Mrs. +and the nurse is always called "Nurse." A chef is usually called "Chef" or +else by his last name. + +Always abroad, and every really well-bred lady or gentleman here, says +"please" in asking that something be brought her or him. "Please get me +the book I left on the table in my room!" Or "Please give me some bread!" +Or "Some bread, please." Or one can say equally politely and omit the +please, "I'd like some toast," but it is usual and instinctive to every +lady or gentleman to add "please." + +In refusing a dish at the table, one must say "No, thank you," or "No, +thanks," or else one shakes one's head. A head can be shaken politely or +rudely. To be courteously polite, and yet keep one's walls up is a thing +every thoroughbred person knows how to do--and a thing that everyone who +is trying to become such must learn to do. + +A rule can't be given because there isn't any. As said in another chapter, +a well-bred person always lives within the walls of his personal reserve, +a vulgarian has no walls--or at least none that do not collapse at the +slightest touch. But those who think they appear superior by being rude to +others whom fortune has placed below them, might as well, did they but +know it, shout their own unexalted origin to the world at large, since by +no other method could it be more widely published. + + +=THE HOUSE WITH LIMITED SERVICE= + +The fact that you live in a house with two servants, or in an apartment +with only one, need not imply that your house lacks charm or even +distinction, or that it is not completely the home of a lady or gentleman. +But, as explained in the chapter on Dinners, if you have limited service +you must devise systematic economy of time and labor or you will have +disastrous consequences. + +Every person, after all, has only one pair of hands, and a day has only so +many hours, and one thing is inevitable, which young housekeepers are apt +to forget, a few can not do the work of many, and do it in the same way. +It is all very well if the housemaid can not get into young Mrs. Gilding's +room until lunch time, nor does it matter if its confusion looks like the +aftermath of a cyclone. The housemaid has nothing to do the rest of the +day but put that one room and bath in order. But in young Mrs. Gaily's +small house where the housemaid is also the waitress, who is supposed to +be "dressed" for lunch, it does not have to be pointed out that she can +not sweep, dust, tidy up rooms, wash out bathtubs, polish fixtures, and at +the same time be dressed in afternoon clothes. If Mrs. Gaily is out for +lunch, it is true the chambermaid-waitress need not be dressed to wait on +table, but her thoughtless young mistress would not be amiable if a +visitor were to ring the door-bell in the early afternoon and have it +opened by a maid in a rumpled "working" dress. + +Supposing the time to put the bedroom in order is from ten to eleven each +morning: it is absolutely necessary that Mrs. Gaily take her bath before +ten so that even if she is not otherwise "dressed" she can be out of her +bedroom and bath at ten o'clock promptly. She can go elsewhere while her +room is done up and then come back and finish dressing later. In this case +she must herself "tidy" any disorder that she makes in dressing; put away +her neglige and slippers and put back anything out of place. On the days +when Mr. Gaily does not go to the office he too must get up and out so +that the house can be put in order. + + +=THE ONE MAID ALONE= + +But where one maid alone cooks, cleans, waits on table, and furthermore +serves as lady's maid and valet, she must necessarily be limited in the +performance of each of these duties in direct proportion to their number. +Even though she be eagerly willing, quality must give way before quantity +produced with the same equipment, or if quality is necessary then quantity +must give way. In the house of a fashionable gay couple like the Lovejoys' +for instance, the time spent in "maiding" or "valeting" has to be taken +from cleaning or cooking. Besides cleaning and cooking, the one maid in +their small apartment can press out Mrs. Lovejoy's dresses and do a little +mending, but she can not sit down and spend one or two hours going over a +dress in the way a specialist maid can. Either Mrs. Lovejoy herself must +do the sewing or the housework, or one or the other must be left undone. + + +=THE MANAGEMENT OF SERVANTS= + +It is certainly a greater pleasure and incentive to work for those who are +appreciative than for those who continually find fault. Everyone who did +war work can not fail to remember how easy it was to work for, or with, +some people, and how impossible to get anything done for others. And just +as the "heads" of work-rooms or "wards" or "canteens" were either +stimulating or dispiriting, so must they and their types also be to those +who serve in their households. + +This, perhaps, explains why some people are always having a "servant +problem"; finding servants difficult to get, more difficult to keep, and +most difficult to get efficient work from. It is a question whether the +"servant problem" is not more often a mistress problem. It must be! +Because, if you notice, those who have woes and complaints are invariably +the same, just as others who never have any trouble are also the same. It +does not depend on the size of the house; the Lovejoys never have any +trouble, and yet their one maid of all work has a far from "easy" place, +and a vacancy at Brookmeadows is always sought after, even though the +Oldnames spend ten months of the year in the country. Neither is there any +friction at the Golden Hall or Great Estates, even though the latter house +is run by the butler--an almost inevitable cause of trouble. These houses +represent a difference in range of from one alone, to nearly forty on the +household payroll. + + +=THOSE WHO HAVE PERSISTENT "TROUBLE"= + +It might be well for those who have trouble to remember a few rules which +are often overlooked: Justice must be the foundation upon which every +tranquil house is constructed. Work must be as evenly divided as possible; +one servant should not be allowed liberties not accorded to all. + +It is not just to be too lenient, any more than it is just to be +unreasonably strict. To allow impertinence or sloppy work is inexcusable, +but it is equally inexcusable to show causeless irritability or to be +overbearing or rude. And there is no greater example of injustice than to +reprimand those about you because you happen to be in a bad humor, and at +another time overlook offenses that are greater because you are in an +amiable mood. + +There is also no excuse for "correcting" either a servant or a child +before people. + +[Illustration: "THE PERFECT MISTRESS SHOWS ALL THOSE IN HER EMPLOY THE +CONSIDERATION AND TRUST DUE THEM AS HONORABLE SELF-RESPECTING AND +CONSCIENTIOUS HUMAN BEINGS." [Page 157.]] + +And when you do correct, do not forget to make allowances, if there be +any reason why allowance should be made. + +If you live in a palace like Golden Hall, or any completely equipped house +of important size, you overlook _nothing!_ There is no more excuse for +delinquency than there is in the Army. If anything happens, such as +illness of one servant, there is another to take his (or her) place. A +huge household is a machine and it is the business of the engineers--in +other words, the secretary, housekeeper, chef or butler, to keep it going +perfectly. + +But in a little house, it may not be fair to say "Selma, the silver is +dirty!" when there is a hot-air furnace and you have had company to every +meal, and you have perhaps sent her on errands between times, and she has +literally not had a moment. If you don't know whether she has had time or +not, you could give her the benefit of the doubt and say (trustfully, not +haughtily) "You have not had time to clean the silver, have you?" This--in +case she has really been unable to clean it--points out just as well the +fact that it is not shining, but is not a criticism. Carelessness, on the +other hand, when you know she has had plenty of time, should never be +overlooked. + +Another type that has "difficulties" is the distrustful--sometimes +actually suspicious--person who locks everything tight and treats all +those with whom she comes in contact as though they were meddlesomely +curious at least, or at worst, dishonest. It is impossible to overstate +the misfortune of this temperament. The servant who is "watched" for fear +she "won't work," listened to for fear she may be gossiping, suspected of +wanting to take a liberty of some sort, or of doing something else she +shouldn't do, is psychologically encouraged, almost driven, to do these +very things. + +The perfect mistress expects perfect service, but it never occurs to her +that perfect service will not be voluntarily and gladly given. She, on her +part, shows all of those in her employ the consideration and trust due +them as honorable, self-respecting and conscientious human beings. If she +has reason to think they are not all this, a lady does not keep them in +her house. + + +=ETIQUETTE OF SERVICE= + +The well-trained high-class servant is faultlessly neat in appearance, +reticent in manner, speaks in a low voice, walks and moves quickly but +silently, and is unfailingly courteous and respectful. She (or he) always +knocks on a door, even of the library or sitting-room, but opens it +without waiting to hear "Come in," as knocking on a downstairs door is +merely politeness. At a bedroom door she would wait for permission to +enter. In answering a bell, she asks "Did you ring, sir?" or if especially +well-mannered she asks "Did Madam ring?" + +A servant always answers "Yes, Madam," or "Very good, sir," never "Yes," +"No," "All right," or "Sure." + +Young people in the house are called "Miss Alice" or "Mr. Ollie," possibly +"Mr. Oliver," but they are generally called by their familiar names with +the prefix of Miss or Mister. Younger children are called Miss Kittie and +Master Fred, but never by the nurse, who calls them by their first names +until they are grown--sometimes always. + +All cards and small packages are presented on a tray. + + +=TIME "OUT" AND "IN"= + +No doubt in the far-off districts there are occasional young women who +work long and hard and for little compensation, but at least in all +cities, servants have their definite time out. Furthermore, they are +allowed in humanely run houses to have "times in" when they can be at home +to friends who come to see them. In every well-appointed house of size +there is a sitting-room which is furnished with comfortable chairs and +sofa if possible, a good droplight to read by, often books, and always +magazines (sent out as soon as read by the family). In other words, they +have an inviting room to use as their own exactly as though they were +living at home. If no room is available, the kitchen has a cover put on +the table, a droplight, and a few restful chairs are provided. + + +=THE MAIDS' MEN FRIENDS= + +Are maids allowed to receive men friends? Certainly they are! Whoever in +remote ages thought it was better to forbid "followers" the house, and +have Mary and Selma slip out of doors to meet them in the dark, had very +distorted notions to say the least. And any lady who knows so little of +human nature as to make the same rule for her maids to-day is acting in +ignorant blindness of her own duties to those who are not only in her +employ but also under her protection. + +A pretty young woman whose men friends come in occasionally and play cards +with the others, or dance to a small and not loud phonograph in the +kitchen, is merely being treated humanly. Because she wears a uniform +makes her no less a young girl, with a young girl's love of amusement, +which if not properly provided for her "at home" will be sought for in +sinister places. + +This responsibility is one that many ladies who are occupied with +charitable and good works elsewhere often overlook under their own roof. +It does not mean that the kitchen should be a scene of perpetual revelry +and mirth that can by any chance disturb the quiet of the neighborhood or +even the family. Unseemly noise is checked at once, much as it would be if +young people in the drawing-room became disturbing. Continuous company is +not suitable either, and those who abuse privileges naturally must have +them curtailed, but the really high-class servant who does not appreciate +kindness and requite it with considerate and proper behavior is rare. + + +=SERVICE IN FORMAL ENTERTAINING= + +=ON THE SIDEWALK AND IN THE HALL= + +For a wedding, or a ball, and sometimes for teas and big dinners, there is +an awning from curb to front door. But usually, especially in good +weather, a dinner or other moderate sized evening entertainment is +prepared for by stretching a carpet (a red one invariably!) down the front +steps and across the pavement to the curb's edge. At all important +functions there is a chauffeur (or a caterer's man) on the sidewalk to +open the door of motors, and a footman or waitress stationed inside the +door of the house to open it on one's approach. This same servant, or more +often another stationed in the hall beyond, directs arriving guests to the +dressing-rooms. + + +=DRESSING-ROOMS= + +Houses especially built for entertaining, have two small rooms on the +ground floor, each with its lavatory, and off of it, a rack for the +hanging of coats and wraps. In most houses, however, guests have to go +up-stairs where two bedrooms are set aside, one as a ladies', and the +other as a gentlemen's coat room. + +At an afternoon tea in houses where dressing-rooms have not been installed +by the architect, the end of the hall, if it is wide, is sometimes +supplied with a coat rack (which may be rented from a caterer) for the +gentlemen. Ladies are in this case supposed to go into the drawing-room as +they are, or go up-stairs to the bedroom put at their disposal and in +charge of a lady's maid or housemaid. + +If the entertainment is very large, checks are always given to avoid +confusion in the dressing-rooms exactly as in public "check rooms." In the +ladies' dressing-room--whether downstairs or up--there must be an array of +toilet necessities such as brushes and combs; well-placed mirrors, +hairpins, powder with stacks of individual cotton balls, or a roll of +cotton in a receptacle from which it may be pulled. In the lavatory there +must be fresh soap and plenty of small hand towels. The lady's personal +maid and one or two assistants if necessary, depending upon the size of +the party, but one and all of them as neatly dressed as possible, assist +ladies off and on with their wraps, and give them coat checks. + +A lady's maid should always look the arriving guests over--not boldly nor +too apparently, but with a quick glance for anything that may be amiss. If +the drapery of a dress is caught up on its trimming, or a fastening +undone, it is her duty to say: "Excuse me, madam (or miss), but there is a +hook undone"--or "the drapery of your gown is caught--shall I fix it?" +Which she does as quietly and quickly as possible. If there is a rip of +any sort, she says: "I think there is a thread loose, I'll just tack it. +It will only be a moment." + +The well-bred maid instinctively makes little of a guest's accident, and +is as considerate as the hostess herself. Employees instinctively adopt +the attitude of their employer. + +In the gentlemen's coat room of a perfectly appointed house the valet's +attitude is much the same. If a gentleman's coat should have met with any +accident, the valet says: "Let me have it fixed for you, sir, it'll only +take a moment!" And he divests the gentleman of his coat and takes it to a +maid and asks her please to take a stitch in it. Meanwhile he goes back to +his duties in the dressing-room until he is sure the coat is finished, +when he gets it and politely helps the owner into it. + +In a small country house where dressing-room space is limited, the quaint +tables copied from old ones are very useful, screened off at the back of +the downstairs hall, or in a very small lavatory. They look, when shut, +like an ordinary table, but when the top is lifted a mirror, the height of +the table's width, swings forward and a series of small compartments and +trays both deep and shallow are laid out on either side. The trays of +course are kept filled with hairpins, pins and powder, and the +compartments have sunburn lotion and liquid powder, brush, comb and +whiskbroom, and whatever else the hostess thinks will be useful. + + +=THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF GUESTS= + +The butler's duty is to stand near the entrance to the reception or +drawing-room, and as each guest arrives (unless they are known to him) he +asks: "What name, please?" He then leads the way into the room where the +hostess is receiving, and says distinctly: "Mr. and Mrs. Jones." If Mrs. +Jones is considerably in advance of her husband, he says: "Mrs. Jones!" +then waits for Mr. Jones to approach before announcing: "Mr. Jones!" + +At a very large party such as a ball, or a very big tea or musical, he +does not leave his place, but stands just outside the drawing-room, and +the hostess stands just within, and as the guests pass through the door, +he announces each one's name. + +It is said to be customary in certain places to have waitresses announce +people. But in New York guests are never announced if there are no men +servants. At a very large function such as a ball or tea, a hostess who +has no butler at home, always employs one for the occasion. If, for +instance, she is giving a ball for her daughter, and all the sons and +daughters of her own acquaintance are invited, the chances are that not +half or even a quarter of her guests are known to her by sight, so that +their announcement is not a mere matter of form but of necessity. + + +=THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF DINNER= + +When the butler on entering the room to announce dinner, happens to catch +the attention of the hostess, he merely bows. Otherwise he approaches +within speaking distance and says, "Dinner is served." He never says, +"Dinner is ready." + +At a large dinner where it is quite a promenade to circle the table in +search of one's name, the butler stands just within the dining-room and +either reads from a list or says from memory "right" or "left" as the case +may be, to each gentleman and lady on approaching. In a few of the +smartest houses a leaf has been taken from the practise of royalty and a +table plan arranged in the front hall, which is shown to each gentleman at +the moment when he takes the envelope enclosing the name of his partner at +dinner. This table plan is merely a diagram made in leather with white +name cards that slip into spaces corresponding to the seats at the table. +On this a gentleman can see exactly where he sits and between whom; so +that if he does not know the lady who is to be on his left as well as the +one he is to "take in," he has plenty of time before going to the table to +ask his host to present him. + +At the end of the evening, the butler is always at the front door--and by +that time, unless the party is very large, he should have remembered +their names, if he is a perfect butler, and as Mr. and Mrs. Jones appear +he opens the door and calls down to the chauffeur "Mr. Jones' car!" And in +the same way "Mr. Smith's car!" "Miss Gilding's car!" When a car is at the +door, the chauffeur runs up the steps and says to the butler: "Miss +Gilding's car" or "Mrs. Jones' car." The butler then announces to either +Mr. or Mrs. Jones, "Your car, sir," or "Your car, madam," and holds the +door open for her to go out, or he may say, "Your car, Miss," if the +Gilding car comes first. + + +=DINING-ROOM SERVICE AT PRIVATE ENTERTAINMENTS= + +Supper at a ball in a great house (big enough for a ball) is usually in +charge of the butler, who by "supper time" is free from his duties of +"announcing" and is able to look after the dining-room service. The +sit-down supper at a ball is served exactly like a dinner--or a wedding +breakfast; and the buffet supper of a dance is like the buffet of a +wedding reception. + +At a large tea where the butler is on duty "announcing" at the same time +that other guests are going into the dining-room for refreshments, the +dining-room service has to be handed over to the first footman and his +assistants or a capable waitress is equally able to meet the situation. +She should have at least two maids with her, as they have to pour all cups +of tea and bouillon and chocolate as well as to take away used cups and +plates and see that the food on the table is replenished. + +At a small tea where ladies perform the office of pouring, one man or maid +in the dining-room is plenty, to bring in more hot water or fresh cups, or +whatever the table hostesses have need of. + + +=FORMAL SERVICE WITHOUT MEN SERVANTS= + +Many, and very fastidious, people, who live in big houses and entertain +constantly, have neither men servants nor employ a caterer, ever. +Efficient women take men's places equally well, though two services are +omitted. Women never (in New York at least) announce guests or open the +doors of motors. But there is no difference whatsoever in the details of +the pantry, dining-room, hall or dressing-room, whether the services are +performed by men or women. (No women, of course, are ever on duty in the +gentlemen's dressing-rooms.) + +At an evening party, the door is opened by the waitress, assisted by the +parlor-maid who directs the way to the dressing-rooms. The guests, when +they are ready to go in the drawing-room, approach the hostess +unannounced. A guest who may not be known by sight does not wait for her +hostess to recognize her but says at once, "How do you do, Mrs. Eminent, +I'm Mrs. Joseph Blank"; or a young girl says, "I am Constance Style" (not +"Miss Style," unless she is beyond the "twenties"); or a married woman +merely announces herself as "Mrs. Town." She does not add her husband's +name as it is taken for granted that the gentleman following her is Mr. +Town. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +TEAS AND OTHER AFTERNOON PARTIES + + +=TEAS= + +Except at a wedding, the function strictly understood by the word +"reception" went out of fashion, in New York at least, during the reign of +Queen Victoria, and its survivor is a public or semi-public affair +presided over by a committee, and is a serious, rather than a merely +social event. + +The very word "reception" brings to mind an aggregation of personages, +very formal, very dressed up, very pompous, and very learned, among whom +the ordinary mortal can not do other than wander helplessly in the +labyrinth of the specialist's jargon. Art critics on a varnishing day +reception, are sure to dwell on the effect of a new technique, and the +comment of most of us, to whom a painting ought to look like a "picture," +is fatal. Equally fatal to meet an explorer and not know where or what he +explored; or to meet a celebrated author and not have the least idea +whether he wrote detective stories or expounded Taoism. On the other hand +it is certainly discouraging after studying up on the latest Cretan +excavations in order to talk intelligently to Professor Diggs, to be +pigeon-holed for the afternoon beside Mrs. Newmother whose interest in +discovery is limited to "a new tooth in baby's head." + +Yet the difference between a reception and a tea is one of atmosphere +only, like the difference in furnishing twin houses. One is enveloped in +the heavy gloom of the mid-Victorian period, the other is light and +alluring in the fashion of to-day. + +A "tea," even though it be formal, is nevertheless friendly and inviting. +One does not go in "church" clothes nor with ceremonious manner; but in an +informal and every-day spirit, to see one's friends and be seen by them. + + +=THE AFTERNOON TEA WITH DANCING= + +The afternoon tea with dancing is usually given to "bring out" a daughter, +or to present a new daughter-in-law. The invitations are the same whether +one hundred or two thousand are sent out. For instance: + + Mrs. Grantham Jones + + Miss Muriel Jones + + will be at home + + on Tuesday, the third of December + + from four until seven o'clock + + The Fitz-Cherry + + Dancing + +As invitations to formal teas of this sort are sent to the hostess' +"general" visiting list, and very big houses are comparatively few, a +ballroom is nearly always engaged at a hotel. Many hotels have a big and a +small ballroom, and unless one's acquaintance is enormous the smaller room +is preferable. + +Too much space for too few people gives an effect of emptiness which +always is suggestive of failure; also one must not forget that an +undecorated room needs more people to make it look "trimmed" than one in +which the floral decoration is lavish. On the other hand, a "crush" is +very disagreeable, even though it always gives the effect of "success." + +The arrangements are not as elaborate as for a ball. At most a screen of +palms behind which the musicians sit (unless they sit in a gallery), +perhaps a few festoons of green here and there, and the debutante's own +flowers banked on tables where she stands to receive, form as much +decoration as is ever attempted. + +Whether in a public ballroom or a private drawing-room, the curtains over +the windows are drawn and the lights lighted as if for a ball in the +evening. If the tea is at a private house there is no awning unless it +rains, but there is a chauffeur or coachman at the curb to open motor +doors, and a butler, or caterer's man, to open the door of the house +before any one has time to ring. + +Guests as they arrive are announced either by the hostess' own butler or a +caterer's "announcer." The hostess receives everyone as at a ball; if she +and her daughter are for the moment standing alone, the new arrival, if a +friend, stands talking with them until a newer arrival takes his or her +place. + +After "receiving" with her mother or mother-in-law for an hour or so, as +soon as the crowd thins a little, the debutante or bride may be allowed to +dance. + +The younger people, as soon as they have shaken hands with the hostess, +dance. The older ones sit about, or talk to friends or take tea. + +At a formal tea, the tea-table is exactly like that at a wedding +reception, in that it is a large table set as a buffet, and is always in +charge of the caterer's men, or the hostess' own butler or waitress and +assistants. It is never presided over by deputy hostesses. + + +=THE MENU IS LIMITED= + +Only tea, bouillon, chocolate, bread and cakes are served. There can be +all sorts of sandwiches, hot biscuits, crumpets, muffins, sliced cake and +little cakes in every variety that a cook or caterer can devise--whatever +can come under the head of "bread and cake" is admissible; but nothing +else, or it becomes a "reception," and not a "tea." At the end of the +table or on a separate table near by, there are bowls or pitchers of +orangeade or lemonade or "punch" (meaning in these days something cold +that has fruit juice in it) for the dancers, exactly as at a ball. + +Guests go to the table and help themselves to their own selection of bread +and cakes. The chocolate, already poured into cups and with whipped cream +on top, is passed on a tray by a servant. Tea also poured into cups, not +mixed but accompanied by a small pitcher of cream, bowl of sugar, and dish +of lemon, is also passed on a tray. A guest taking her plate of food in +one hand and her tea or chocolate in the other, finds herself a chair +somewhere, if possible, near a table, so that she can take her tea without +discomfort. + + +=AFTERNOON TEAS WITHOUT DANCING= + +Afternoon teas without dancing are given in honor of visiting celebrities +or new neighbors or engaged couples, or to "warm" a new house; or, most +often, for a house-guest from another city. + +The invitation is a visiting card of the hostess with "to meet Mrs. +So-and-So" across the top of it and "Jan. 10, Tea at 4 o'clock" in the +lower corner, opposite the address. + +At a tea of this description, tea and chocolate may be passed on trays or +poured by two ladies, as will be explained below. + +Unless the person for whom the tea is given is such a celebrity that the +"tea" becomes a "reception," the hostess does not stand at the door, but +merely near it so that anyone coming in may easily find her. The ordinary +afternoon tea given for one reason or another is, in winter, merely and +literally, being at home on a specified afternoon with the blinds and +curtains drawn, the room lighted as at night, a fire burning and a large +tea-table spread in the dining-room or a small one near the hearth. An +afternoon tea in summer is the same, except that artificial light is never +used, and the table is most often on a veranda. + + +="DO COME IN FOR A CUP OF TEA"= + +This is Best Society's favorite form of invitation. It is used on nearly +every occasion whether there is to be music or a distinguished visitor, or +whether a hostess has merely an inclination to see her friends. She writes +on her personal visiting card: "Do come in on Friday for a cup of tea and +hear Ellwin play, or Farrish sing, or to meet Senator West, or Lady X." Or +even more informally: "I have not seen you for so long." + +Invitations to a tea of this description are never "general." A hostess +asks either none but close friends, or at most her "dining" list; +sometimes this sort of a "tea" is so small that she sits behind her own +tea-table--exactly as she does every afternoon. + +But if the tea is of any size, from twenty upwards, the table is set in +the dining-room and two intimate friends of the hostess "pour" tea at one +end, and chocolate at the other. The ladies who "pour" are always +especially invited beforehand and always wear afternoon dresses, with +hats, of course, as distinguished from the street clothes of other guests. +As soon as a hostess decides to give a tea, she selects two friends for +this duty who are, in her opinion, decorative in appearance and also who +(this is very important) can be counted on for gracious manners to +everyone and under all circumstances. + +It does not matter if a guest going into the dining-room for a cup of tea +or chocolate does not know the deputy hostesses who are "pouring." It is +perfectly correct for a stranger to say "May I have a cup of tea?" + +The one pouring should answer very, responsively, "Certainly! How do you +like it? Strong or weak?" + +If the latter, she deluges it with hot water, and again watching for the +guest's negative or approval, adds cream or lemon or sugar. Or, preferring +chocolate, the guest perhaps goes to the other end of the table and asks +for a cup of chocolate. The table hostess at that end also says +"Certainly," and pours out chocolate. If she is surrounded with people, +she smiles as she hands it out, and that is all. But if she is unoccupied +and her momentary "guest by courtesy" is alone, it is merest good manners +on her part to make a few pleasant remarks. Very likely when asked for +chocolate she says: "How nice of you! I have been feeling very neglected +at my end. Everyone seems to prefer tea." Whereupon the guest ventures +that people are afraid of chocolate because it is so fattening or so hot. +After an observation or two about the weather, or the beauty of the china +or how good the little cakes look, or the sandwiches taste, the guest +finishes her chocolate. + +If the table hostess is still unoccupied the guest smiles and slightly +nods "Good-by," but if the other's attention has been called upon by +someone else, she who has finished her chocolate, leaves unnoticed. + +If another lady coming into the dining-room is an acquaintance of one of +the table hostesses, the new visitor draws up a chair, if there is room, +and drinks her tea or chocolate at the table. But as soon as she has +finished, she should give her place up to a newer arrival. Or perhaps a +friend appears, and the two take their tea together over in another part +of the room, or at vacant places farther down the table. The tea-table is +not set with places; but at a table where ladies are pouring, and +especially at a tea that is informal, a number of chairs are usually ready +to be drawn up for those who like to take their tea at the table. + +In many cities, strangers who find themselves together in the house of a +friend in common, always talk. In New York smart people always do at +dinners or luncheons, but never at a general entertainment. Their +cordiality to a stranger would depend largely upon the informal, or +intimate, quality of the tea party; it would depend on who the stranger +might be, and who the New Yorker. Mrs. Worldly would never dream of +speaking to anyone--no matter whom--if it could be avoided. Mrs. Kindhart +on the other hand, talks to everyone, everywhere and always. Mrs. +Kindhart's position is as good as Mrs. Worldly's every bit, but perhaps +she can be more relaxed; not being the conspicuous hostess that Mrs. +Worldly is, she is not so besieged by position-makers and +invitation-seekers. Perhaps Mrs. Worldly, finding that nearly every one +who approaches her wants something, has come instinctively to avoid each +new approach. + +[Illustration: "THE AFTERNOON TEA-TABLE IS THE SAME IN ITS SERVICE WHETHER +IN THE TINY BANDBOX HOUSE OF THE NEWEST BRIDE, OR IN THE DRAWING-ROOM OF +MRS. WORLDLY OF GREAT ESTATES." [Page 171.]] + + +=THE EVERY-DAY AFTERNOON TEA TABLE= + +The every-day afternoon tea table is familiar to everyone; there is not +the slightest difference in its service whether in the tiny bandbox house +of the newest bride, or in the drawing-room of Mrs. Worldly of Great +Estates, except that in the little house the tray is brought in by a +woman--often a picture in appearance and appointment--instead of a butler +with one or two footmen in his wake. In either case a table is placed in +front of the hostess. A tea-table is usually of the drop-leaf variety +because it is more easily moved than a solid one. There are really no +"correct" dimensions; any small table is suitable. It ought not to be so +high that the hostess seems submerged behind it, nor so small as to be +overhung by the tea tray and easily knocked over. It is usually between 24 +and 26 inches wide and from 27 to 36 inches long, or it may be oval or +oblong. A double-decked table that has its second deck above the main +table is not good because the tea tray perched on the upper deck is +neither graceful nor convenient. In proper serving, not only of tea but of +cold drinks of all sorts, even where a quantity of bottles, pitchers and +glasses need space, everything should be brought on a tray and not +trundled in on a tea-wagon! + +A cloth must always be first placed on the table, before putting down the +tray. The tea cloth may be a yard, a yard and a half, or two yards square. +It may barely cover the table, or it may hang half a yard over each edge. +A yard and a quarter is the average size. A tea cloth can be colored, but +the conventional one is of white linen, with little or much white +needlework or lace, or both. + +On this is put a tray big enough to hold everything except the plates of +food. The tray may be a massive silver one that requires a footman with +strong arms to lift it, or it may be of Sheffield or merely of effectively +lacquered tin. In any case, on it should be: a kettle which ought to be +already boiling, with a spirit lamp under it, an empty tea-pot, a caddy of +tea, a tea strainer and slop bowl, cream pitcher and sugar bowl, and, on a +glass dish, lemon in slices. A pile of cups and saucers and a stack of +little tea plates, all to match, with a napkin (about 12 inches square, +hemstitched or edged to match the tea cloth) folded on each of the plates, +like the filling of a layer cake, complete the paraphernalia. Each plate +is lifted off with its own napkin. Then on the tea-table, back of the +tray, or on the shelves of a separate "curate," a stand made of three +small shelves, each just big enough for one good-sized plate, are always +two, usually three, varieties of cake and hot breads. + + +=THINGS PEOPLE EAT AT TEA= + +The top dish on the "curate" should be a covered one, and holds hot bread +of some sort; the two lower dishes may be covered or not, according to +whether the additional food is hot or cold; the second dish usually holds +sandwiches, and the third cake. Or perhaps all the dishes hold cake; +little fancy cakes for instance, and pastries and slices of layer cakes. +Many prefer a simpler diet, and have bread and butter, or toasted +crackers, supplemented by plain cookies. Others pile the "curate" until it +literally staggers, under pastries and cream cakes and sandwiches of pate +de foie gras or mayonnaise. Others, again, like marmalade, or jam, or +honey on bread and butter or on buttered toast or muffins. This +necessitates little butter knives and a dish of jam added to the already +overloaded tea tray. + +Selection of afternoon tea food is entirely a matter of whim, and new +food-fads sweep through communities. For a few months at a time, everyone, +whether in a private house or a country club, will eat nothing but English +muffins and jam, then suddenly they like only toasted cheese crackers, or +Sally Lunn, or chocolate cake with whipped cream on top. The present fad +of a certain group in New York is bacon and toast sandwiches and fresh hot +gingerbread. Let it be hoped for the sake of the small household that it +will die out rather than become epidemic, since the gingerbread must be +baked every afternoon, and the toast and bacon are two other items that +come from a range. + +Sandwiches for afternoon tea as well as for all collations, are made by +buttering the end of the loaf, spreading on the "filling" and then cutting +off the prepared slice as thin as possible. A second slice, unspread, +makes the other side of the sandwich. When it is put together, the crust +is either cut off leaving a square and the square again divided diagonally +into two triangular sandwiches, or the sandwich is cut into shape with a +regular cutter. In other words, a "party" sandwich is not the sort of +sandwich to eat--or order--when hungry! + +The tea served to a lady who lives alone and cares for only one dish of +eatables would naturally eliminate the other two. But if a visitor is +"received," the servant on duty should, without being told, at once bring +in at least another dish and an additional cup, saucer, plate and napkin. + +Afternoon tea at a very large house party or where especially invited +people are expected for tea, should include two plates of hot food such as +toast or hot biscuits split open and buttered, toasted and buttered +English muffins, or crumpets, corn muffins or hot gingerbread. Two cold +plates should contain cookies or fancy cakes, and perhaps a layer cake. In +hot weather, in place of one of the hot dishes, there should be pate or +lettuce sandwiches, and always a choice of hot or iced tea, or perhaps +iced coffee or chocolate frappe, but rarely if ever, anything else. + + +=THE ETIQUETTE OF TEA SERVING AND DRINKING= + +As tea is the one meal of intimate conversation, a servant never comes to +the room at tea-time unless rung for, to bring fresh water or additional +china or food, or to take away used dishes. When the tray and curate are +brought in, individual tables, usually glass topped and very small and +low, are put beside each of the guests, and the servant then withdraws. +The hostess herself "makes" the tea and pours it. Those who sit near +enough to her put out their hands for their cup-and-saucer. If any ladies +are sitting farther off, and a gentleman is present, he, of course, rises +and takes the tea from the hostess to the guest. He also then passes the +curate, afterward putting it back where it belongs and resuming his seat. +If no gentleman is present, a lady gets up and takes her own tea which the +hostess hands her, carries it to her own little individual table, comes +back, takes a plate and napkin, helps herself to what she likes and goes +to her place. + +If the cake is very soft and sticky or filled with cream, small forks must +be laid on the tea-table. + +As said above, if jam is to be eaten on toast or bread, there must be +little butter knives to spread it with. Each guest in taking her plate +helps herself to toast and jam and a knife and carries her plate over to +her own little table. She then carries her cup of tea to her table and +sits down comfortably to drink it. If there are no little tables, she +either draws her chair up to the tea-table, or manages as best she can to +balance plate, cup and saucer on her lap--a very difficult feat! + +In fact, the hostess who, providing no individual tables, expects her +guest to balance knife, fork, jam, cream cake, plate and cup and saucer, +all on her knees, should choose her friends in the circus rather than in +society. + + +=THE GARDEN PARTY= + +The garden party is merely an afternoon tea out of doors. It may be as +elaborate as a sit-down wedding breakfast or as simple as a miniature +strawberry festival. At an elaborate one (in the rainy section of our +country) a tent or marquise with sides that can be easily drawn up in fine +weather and dropped in rain, and with a good dancing floor, is often put +up on the lawn or next to the veranda, so that in case of storm people +will not be obliged to go out of doors. The orchestra is placed within or +near open sides of the tent, so that it can he heard on the lawn and +veranda as well as where they are dancing. Or instead of a tea with +dancing, if most of the guests are to be older, there may be a concert or +other form of professional entertainment. + +On the lawn there are usually several huge bright-colored umbrella tents, +and under each a table and a group of chairs, and here and there numerous +small tables and chairs. For, although the afternoon tea is always put in +the dining-room footmen or maids carry varieties of food out on large +trays to the lawn, and the guests hold plates on their knees and stand +glasses on tables nearby. + +At a garden party the food is often much more prodigal than at a tea in +town. Sometimes it is as elaborate as at a wedding reception. In addition +to hot tea and chocolate, there is either iced coffee or a very melted +cafe parfait, or frosted chocolate in cups. There are also pitchers of +various drinks that have rather mysterious ingredients, but are all very +much iced and embellished with crushed fruits and mint leaves. There are +often berries with cream, especially in strawberry season, on an estate +that prides itself on those of its own growing, as well as the inevitable +array of fancy sandwiches and cakes. + +At teas and musicales and all entertainments where the hostess herself is +obliged to stand at the door, her husband or a daughter (if the hostess is +old enough, and lucky enough to have one) or else a sister or a very close +friend, should look after the guests, to see that any who are strangers +are not helplessly wandering about alone, and that elderly ladies are +given seats if there is to be a performance, or to show any other +courtesies that devolve upon a hostess. + + +=THE ATMOSPHERE OF HOSPITALITY= + +The atmosphere of hospitality is something very intangible, and yet +nothing is more actually felt--or missed. There are certain houses that +seem to radiate warmth like an open wood fire, there are others that +suggest an arrival by wireless at the North Pole, even though a much +brighter actual fire may be burning on the hearth in the drawing-room of +the second than of the first. Some people have the gift of hospitality; +others whose intentions are just as kind and whose houses are perfection +in luxury of appointments, seem to petrify every approach. Such people +appearing at a picnic color the entire scene with the blue light of their +austerity. Such people are usually not masters, but slaves, of etiquette. +Their chief concern is whether this is correct, or whether that is +properly done, or is this person or that such an one as they care to know? +They seem, like _Hermione_ (Don Marquis's heroine), to be anxiously asking +themselves, "Have I failed to-day, or have I not?" + +Introspective people who are fearful of others, fearful of themselves, are +never successfully popular hosts or hostesses. If you for instance, are +one of these, if you are _really_ afraid of knowing some one who might +some day prove unpleasant, if you are such a snob that you can't take +people at their face value, then why make the effort to bother with people +at all? Why not shut your front door tight and pull down the blinds and, +sitting before a mirror in your own drawing-room, order tea for two? + +[Illustration: "THE PERFECT EXAMPLE OF A FORMAL DINNER TABLE OF WEALTH, +LUXURY AND TASTE, WHICH INVOLVES NO EFFORT ON THE PART OF THE HOSTESS OF A +GREAT HOUSE BEYOND DECIDING UPON THE DATE AND THE PRINCIPAL GUESTS WHO ARE +TO FORM THE NUCLEUS OF THE PARTY." [Page 177.]] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +FORMAL DINNERS + + +=NOT FOR THE NOVICE TO ATTEMPT= + +If the great world of society were a university which issued degrees to +those whom it trains to its usages, the _magna cum laude_ honors would be +awarded without question, not to the hostess who may have given the most +marvelous ball of the decade, but to her who knows best every component +detail of preparation and service, no less than every inexorable rule of +etiquette, in formal dinner-giving. + +To give a perfect dinner of ceremony is the supreme accomplishment of a +hostess! It means not alone perfection of furnishing, of service, of +culinary skill, but also of personal charm, of tact. The only other +occasion when a hostess must have equal--and possibly even greater +ability--is the large and somewhat formal week-end party, which includes a +dinner or two as by no means its least formidable features. + +There are so many aspects to be considered in dinner giving that it is +difficult to know whether to begin up-stairs or down, or with furnishing, +or service, or people, or manners! One thing is certain, no novice should +ever begin her social career by attempting a formal dinner, any more than +a pupil swimmer, upon being able to take three strokes alone, should +attempt to swim three miles out to sea. The former will as surely drown as +the latter. + + +=HOW A DINNER IS GIVEN IN A GREAT HOUSE= + +When Mrs. Worldly gives a dinner, it means no effort on her part +whatsoever beyond deciding upon the date and the principal guests who are +to form the nucleus; every further detail is left to her +subordinates--even to the completion of her list of guests. For instance, +she decides that she will have an "older" dinner, and finding that the +tenth is available for herself, she tells her secretary to send out +invitations for that date. She does not have especial cards engraved but +uses the dinner blank described in the chapter on Invitations. She then +looks through her "dinner list" and orders her secretary to invite the +Oldworlds, the Eminents, the Learneds, the Wellborns, the Highbrows, and +the Onceweres. She also picks out three or four additional names to be +substituted for those who regret. Then turning to the "younger married" +list she searches for a few suitable but "amusing" or good-looking ones to +give life to her dinner which might otherwise be heavy. But her favorites +do not seem appropriate. It will not do to ask the Bobo Gildings, not +because of the difference in age but because Lucy Gilding smokes like a +furnace and is miserable unless she can play bridge for high stakes, and, +just as soon as she can bolt through dinner, sit at a card table; while +Mrs. Highbrow and Mrs. Oncewere quite possibly disapprove of women's +smoking and are surely horrified at "gambling." The Smartlings won't do +either, for the same reason, nor the Gaylies. She can't ask the Newell +Riches either, because Mrs. Oldworld and Mrs. Wellborn both dislike +vulgarity too much to find compensation in qualities which are merely +amusing. So she ends by adding her own friends the Kindharts and the +Normans, who "go" with everyone, and a few somewhat younger people, and +approves her secretary's suggestions as to additional names if those first +invited should "regret." + +The list being settled, Mrs. Worldly's own work is done. She sends word to +her cook that there will be twenty-four on the tenth; the menu will be +submitted to her later, which she will probably merely glance at and send +back. She never sees or thinks about her table, which is in the butler's +province. + +On the morning of the dinner her secretary brings her the place cards, +(the name of each person expected, written on a separate card) and she +puts them in the order in which they are to be placed on the table, very +much as though playing solitaire. Starting with her own card at one end +and her husband's at the other, she first places the lady of honor on +his right, the second in importance on his left. Then on either side of +herself, she puts the two most important gentlemen. The others she fits in +between, trying to seat side by side those congenial to each other. + +[Illustration: "DETAIL OF PLACE SET AT A FORMAL DINNER TABLE OF A GREAT +HOUSE." [Page 179.]] + +When the cards are arranged, the secretary attends to putting the name of +the lady who sits on each gentleman's right in the envelope addressed to +him. She then picks up the place cards still stacked in their proper +sequence, and takes them to the butler who will put them in the order +arranged on the table after it is set. + +Fifteen minutes before the dinner hour, Mrs. Worldly is already standing +in her drawing-room. She has no personal responsibility other than that of +being hostess. The whole machinery of equipment and service runs seemingly +by itself. It does not matter whether she knows what the menu is. Her cook +is more than capable of attending to it. That the table shall be perfect +is merely the every-day duty of the butler. She knows without looking that +one of the chauffeurs is on the sidewalk; that footmen are in the hall; +that her own maid is in the ladies' dressing-room, and the valet in that +of the gentlemen; and that her butler is just outside the door near which +she is standing. + +So with nothing on her mind (except a jewelled ornament and perfectly +"done" hair) she receives her guests with the tranquillity attained only +by those whose household--whether great or small--can be counted on to run +like a perfectly coordinated machine. + + +=HOW A DINNER CAN BE BUNGLED= + +This is the contrasting picture to the dinner at the Worldly's--a picture +to show you particularly who are a bride how awful an experiment in dinner +giving can be. + +Let us suppose that you have a quite charming house, and that your wedding +presents included everything necessary to set a well-appointed table. You +have not very experienced servants, but they would all be good ones with a +little more training. + +You have been at home for so few meals you don't quite know how +experienced they are. Your cook at least makes good coffee and eggs and +toast for breakfast, and the few other meals she has cooked seemed to be +all right, and she is such a nice clean person! + +So when your house is "in order" and the last pictures and curtains are +hung, the impulse suddenly comes to you to give a dinner! Your husband +thinks it is a splendid idea. It merely remains to decide whom you will +ask. You hesitate between a few of your own intimates, or older people, +and decide it would be such fun to ask a few of the hostesses whose houses +you have almost lived at ever since you "came out." You decide to ask Mrs. +Toplofty, Mr. Clubwin Doe, the Worldlys, the Gildings, and the Kindharts +and the Wellborns. With yourselves that makes twelve. You can't have more +than twelve because you have only a dozen of everything; in fact you +decide that twelve will be pretty crowded, but that it will be safe to ask +that number because a few are sure to "regret." So you write notes (since +it is to be a formal dinner), and--they all accept! You are a little +worried about the size of the dining-room, but you are overcome by the +feeling of your popularity. Now the thing to do is to prepare for a +dinner. The fact that Nora probably can't make fancy dishes does not +bother you a bit. In your mind's eye you see delicious plain food passed; +you must get Sigrid a dress that properly fits her, and Delia, the +chambermaid (who was engaged with the understanding that she was to serve +in the dining-room when there was company), has not yet been at table, but +she is a very willing young person who will surely look well. + +Nora, when you tell her who are coming, eagerly suggests the sort of menu +that would appear on the table of the Worldlys or the Gildings. You are +thrilled at the thought of your own kitchen producing the same. That it +may be the same in name only, does not occur to you. You order flowers for +the table, and candy for your four compotiers. You pick out your best +tablecloth, but you find rather to your amazement that when the waitress +asks you about setting the table, you have never noticed in detail how the +places are laid. Knives and spoons go on the right of the plate, of +course, and forks on the left, but which goes next to the plate, or +whether the wine glasses should stand nearer or beyond the goblet you can +only guess. It is quite simple, however, to give directions in serving; +you just tell the chambermaid that she is to follow the waitress, and pass +the sauces and the vegetables. And you have already explained carefully to +the latter that she must not deal plates around the table like a pack of +cards, or ever take them off in piles either. (_That_ much at least you do +know.) You also make it a point above everything that the silver must be +very clean; Sigrid seems to understand, and with the optimism of youth, +you approach the dinner hour without misgiving. The table, set with your +wedding silver and glass, looks quite nice. You are a little worried about +the silver--it does look rather yellow, but perhaps it is just a shadow. +Then you notice there are a great many forks on the table! You ask your +husband what is the matter with the forks? He does not see anything wrong. +You need them all for the dinner you ordered, how can there be less? So +you straighten a candlestick that was out of line, and put the place cards +on. + +Then you go into the drawing-room. You don't light the fire until the last +moment, because you want it to be burning brightly when your guests +arrive. Your drawing-room looks a little stiff somehow, but an open fire +more than anything else makes a room inviting, and you light it just as +your first guest rings the bell. As Mr. Clubwin Doe enters, the room looks +charming, then suddenly the fire smokes, and in the midst of the smoke +your other guests arrive. Every one begins to cough and blink. They are +very polite, but the smoke, growing each moment denser, is not to be +overlooked. Mrs. Toplofty takes matters in her own hands and makes Mr. Doe +and your husband carry the logs, smoke and all, and throw them into the +yard. The room still thick with smoke is now cheerlessly fireless, and +another factor beginning to distress you is that, although everyone has +arrived, there is no sign of dinner. You wait, at first merely eager to +get out of the smoke-filled drawing-room. Gradually you are becoming +nervous--what can have happened? The dining-room door might be that of a +tomb for all the evidence of life behind it. You become really alarmed. +Is dinner never going to be served? Everyone's eyes are red from the +smoke, and conversation is getting weaker and weaker. Mrs. +Toplofty--evidently despairing--sits down. Mrs. Worldly also sits, both +hold their eyes shut and say nothing. At last the dining-room door opens, +and Sigrid instead of bowing slightly and saying in a low tone of voice, +"Dinner is served," stands stiff as a block of wood, and fairly shouts: +"Dinner's all ready!" + +You hope no one heard her, but you know very well that nothing escaped any +one of those present. And between the smoke and the delay and your +waitress' manners, you are already thoroughly mortified by the time you +reach the table. But you hope that at least the dinner will be good. For +the first time you are assailed with doubt on that score. And again you +wait, but the oyster course is all right. And then comes the soup. You +don't have to taste it to see that it is wrong. It looks not at all as +"clear" soup should! Its color, instead of being glass-clear amber, is +greasy-looking brown. You taste it, fearing the worst, and the worst is +realized. It tastes like dish-water--and is barely tepid. You look around +the table; Mr. Kindhart alone is trying to eat it. + +In removing the plates, Delia, the assistant, takes them up by piling one +on top of the other, clashing them together as she does so. You can feel +Mrs. Worldly looking with almost hypnotized fascination--as her attention +might be drawn to a street accident against her will. Then there is a +wait. You wait and wait, and looking in front of you, you notice the bare +tablecloth without a plate. You know instantly that the service is wrong, +but you find yourself puzzled to know how it should have been done. +Finally Sigrid comes in with a whole dozen plates stacked in a pile, which +she proceeds to deal around the table. You at least know that to try to +interfere would only make matters worse. You hold your own cold fingers in +your lap knowing that you must sit there, and that you can do nothing. + +The fish which was to have been a _mousse_ with Hollandaise sauce, is a +huge mound, much too big for the platter, with a narrow gutter of water +around the edge and the center dabbed over with a curdled yellow mess. You +realize that not only is the food itself awful, but that the quantity is +too great for one dish. You don't know what to do next; you know there is +no use in apologizing, there is no way of dropping through the floor, or +waking yourself up. You have collected the smartest and the most critical +people around your table to put them to torture such as they will never +forget. Never! You have to bite your lips to keep from crying. Whatever +possessed you to ask these people to your horrible house? + +Mr. Kindhart, sitting next to you, says gently, "Cheer up, little girl, it +doesn't really matter!" And then you know to the full how terrible the +situation is. The meal is endless; each course is equally unappetizing to +look at, and abominably served. You notice that none of your guests eat +anything. They can't. + +You leave the table literally sick, but realizing fully that the giving of +a dinner is not as easy as you thought. And in the drawing-room, which is +now fireless and freezing, but at least smokeless, you start to apologize +and burst into tears! + +As you are very young, and those present are all really fond of you, they +try to be comforting, but you know that it will be years (if ever) before +any of them will be willing to risk an evening in your house again. You +also know that without malice, but in truth and frankness, they will tell +everyone: "Whatever you do, don't dine with the Newweds unless you eat +your dinner before you go, and wear black glasses so no sight can offend +you." + +When they have all gone, you drag yourself miserably up-stairs, feeling +that you never want to look in that drawing-room or dining-room again. +Your husband, remembering the trenches, tries to tell you it was not so +bad! But you _know!_ You lie awake planning to let the house, and to +discharge each one of your awful household the next morning, and then you +realize that the fault is not a bit more theirs than yours. + +If you had tried the chimney first, and learned its peculiarities; if you +yourself had known every detail of cooking and service, of course you +would not have attempted to give the dinner in the first place; not at +least until, through giving little dinners, the technique of your +household had become good enough to give a big one. + +On the other hand, supposing that you had had a very experienced cook and +waitress; dinner would, of course, not have been bungled, but it would +have lacked something, somewhere, if you added nothing of your own +personality to its perfection. It is almost safe to make the statement +that no dinner is ever really well done unless the hostess herself knows +every smallest detail thoroughly. Mrs. Worldly pays seemingly no +attention, but nothing escapes her. She can walk through a room without +appearing to look either to the right or left, yet if the slightest detail +is amiss, an ornament out of place, or there is one dull button on a +footman's livery, her house telephone is rung at once! + +Having generalized by drawing two pictures, it is now time to take up the +specific details to be considered in giving a dinner. + + +=DETAILED DIRECTIONS FOR DINNER GIVING= + +The requisites at every dinner, whether a great one of 200 covers, or a +little one of six, are as follows: + +Guests. People who are congenial to one another. This is of first +importance. + +Food. A suitable menu perfectly prepared and dished. (Hot food to be +_hot_, and cold, _cold_.) + +Table furnishing. Faultlessly laundered linen, brilliantly polished +silver, and all other table accessories suitable to the occasion and +surroundings. + +Service. Expert dining-room servants and enough of them. + +Drawing-room. Adequate in size to number of guests and inviting in +arrangement. + +A cordial and hospitable host. + +A hostess of charm. Charm says everything--tact, sympathy, poise and +perfect manners--always. + +And though for all dinners these requisites are much the same, the +necessity for perfection increases in proportion to the formality of the +occasion. + + +=TASTE IN SELECTION OF PEOPLE= + +The proper selection of guests is the first essential in all entertaining, +and the hostess who has a talent for assembling the right people has a +great asset. Taste in house furnishings or in clothes or in selecting a +cook, is as nothing compared to taste in people! Some people have this +"sense"--others haven't. The first are the great hosts and hostesses; the +others are the mediocre or the failures. + +It is usually a mistake to invite great talkers together. Brilliant men +and women who love to talk want hearers, not rivals. Very silent people +should be sandwiched between good talkers, or at least voluble talkers. +Silly people should never be put anywhere near learned ones, nor the dull +near the clever, unless the dull one is a young and pretty woman with a +talent for listening, and the clever, a man with an admiration for beauty, +and a love for talking. + +Most people think two brilliant people should be put together. Often they +should, but with discretion. If both are voluble or nervous or +"temperamental," you may create a situation like putting two operatic +sopranos in the same part and expecting them to sing together. + +The endeavor of a hostess, when seating her table, is to put those +together who are likely to be interesting to each other. Professor Bugge +might bore _you_ to tears, but Mrs. Entomoid would probably delight in +him; just as Mr. Stocksan Bonds and Mrs. Rich would probably have +interests in common. Making a dinner list is a little like making a +Christmas list. You put down what _they_ will (you hope) like, not what +you like. Those who are placed between congenial neighbors remember your +dinner as delightful--even though both food and service were mediocre; but +ask people out of their own groups and seat them next to their pet +aversions, and wild horses could not drag them to your house again! + + +=HOW A DINNER LIST IS KEPT= + +Nearly every hostess keeps a dinner list--apart from her general visiting +list--of people with whom she is accustomed to dine, or to invite to +dinner or other small entertainments. But the prominent hostess, if she +has grown daughters and continually gives parties of all sorts and sizes +and ages, usually keeps her list in a more complete and "ready reference" +order. + +Mrs. Gilding, for instance, has guest lists separately indexed. Under the +general heading "Dinners," she has older married, younger married, girls, +men. Her luncheon list is taken from her dinner list. "Bridge" includes +especially good players of all ages; "dances," young married people, young +girls, and dancing men. Then she has a cross-index list of "Important +Persons," meaning those of real distinction who are always the foundation +of all good society; "Amusing," usually people of talent--invaluable for +house parties; and "New People," including many varieties and unassorted. +Mrs. Gilding exchanges invitations with a number of these because they are +interesting or amusing, or because their parties are diverting and +dazzling. And Mrs. Gilding herself, being typical of New York's Cavalier +element rather than its Puritan strain, personally prefers diversion to +edification. Needless to say, "Boston's Best," being ninety-eight per +cent. Puritan, has no "new" list. Besides her list of "New People," she +has a short "frivolous" list of other Cavaliers like herself, and a +"Neutral" list, which is the most valuable of all because it comprises +those who "go" with everyone. Besides her own lists she has a "Pantry" +list, a list that is actually made out for the benefit of the butler, so +that on occasions he can invite guests to "fill in." The "Pantry" list +comprises only intimate friends who belong on the "Neutral" list and fit +in everywhere; young girls and young and older single men. + +Allowing the butler to invite guests at his own discretion is not quite as +casual as it sounds. It is very often an unavoidable expedient. For +instance, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Blank telephones that he +cannot come to dinner that same evening. Mrs. Gilding is out; to wait +until she returns will make it too late to fill the place. Her butler who +has been with her for years knows quite as well as Mrs. Gilding herself +exactly which people belong in the same group. The dinner cards being +already in his possession, he can see not only who is expected for dinner +but the two ladies between whom Mr. Blank has been placed, and he +thereupon selects some one on the "Pantry" list who is suitable for Mr. +Blank's place at the table, and telephones the invitation. Perhaps he +calls up a dozen before he finds one disengaged. When Mrs. Gilding returns +he says, "Mr. Blank telephoned he would not be able to come for dinner as +he was called to Washington. Mr. Bachelor will be happy to come in his +place." Married people are seldom on this list, because the butler need +not undertake to fill any but an odd place--that of a gentleman +particularly. Otherwise two ladies would be seated together. + + +=ASKING SOMEONE TO FILL A PLACE= + +Since no one but a fairly intimate friend is ever asked to fill a place, +this invitation is always telephoned. A very young man is asked by the +butler if he will dine with Mrs. Gilding that evening, and very likely no +explanation is made; but if the person to be invited is a lady or an older +gentleman (except on such occasions as noted above), the hostess herself +telephones: + +"Can you do me a great favor and fill a place at dinner to-night?" The one +who receives this invitation is rather bound by the rules of good manners +to accept if possible. + + +=IMPORTANCE OF DINNER ENGAGEMENTS= + +Dinner invitations must be answered immediately; engraved or written ones +by return post, or those which were telephoned, by telephone and at once! +Also, nothing but serious illness or death or an utterly unavoidable +accident can excuse the breaking of a dinner engagement. + +To accept a dinner at Mrs. Nobody's and then break the obligation upon +being invited to dine with the Worldlys, proclaims anyone capable of such +rudeness an unmitigated snob, whom Mrs. Worldly would be the first to cut +from her visiting list if she knew of it. The rule is: "Don't accept an +invitation if you don't care about it." Having declined the Nobody +invitation in the first place, you are then free to accept Mrs. Worldly's, +or to stay at home. There are times, however, when engagements between +very close friends or members of the family may perhaps be broken, but +only if made with the special stipulation: "Come to dinner with us alone +Thursday if nothing better turns up!" And the other answers, "I'd love +to--and you let me know too, if you want to do anything else." Meanwhile +if one of them is invited to something unusually tempting, there is no +rudeness in telephoning her friend, "Lucy has asked us to hear Galli-Curci +on Thursday!" and the other says, "Go, by all means! We can dine Tuesday +next week if you like, or come Sunday for supper." This privilege of +intimacy can, however, be abused. An engagement, even with a member of +one's family, ought never to be broken twice within a brief period, or it +becomes apparent that the other's presence is more a fill-in of idle time +than a longed-for pleasure. + + +=THE MENU= + +It may be due to the war period, which accustomed everyone to going with +very little meat and to marked reduction in all food, or it may be, of +course, merely vanity that is causing even grandparents to aspire to +svelte figures, but whatever the cause, people are putting much less food +on their tables than formerly. The very rich, living in the biggest houses +with the most imposing array of servants, sit down to three, or at most +four, courses when alone, or when intimate friends who are known to have +moderate appetites, are dining with them. + +Under no circumstances would a private dinner, no matter how formal, +consist of more than: + +1. Hors d'oeuvre +2. Soup +3. Fish +4. Entree +5. Roast +6. Salad +7. Dessert +8. Coffee + +The menu for an informal dinner would leave out the entree, and possibly +either the hors d'oeuvre or the soup. + +As a matter of fact, the marked shortening of the menu is in informal +dinners and at the home table of the well-to-do. Formal dinners have been +as short as the above schedule for twenty-five years. A dinner interlarded +with a row of extra entrees, Roman punch, and hot dessert is unknown +except at a public dinner, or in the dining-room of a parvenu. About +thirty-five years ago such dinners are said to have been in fashion! + + +=THE BALANCED MENU= + +One should always try to choose well-balanced dishes; an especially rich +dish balanced by a simple one. Timbale with a very rich sauce of cream and +pate de foie gras might perhaps be followed by French chops, broiled +chicken or some other light, plain meat. An entree of about four broiled +mushrooms on a small round of toast should be followed by boned capon or +saddle of mutton or spring lamb. It is equally bad to give your guests +very peculiar food unless as an extra dish. Some people love highly +flavored Spanish or Indian dishes, but they are not appropriate for a +formal dinner. At an informal dinner an Indian curry or Spanish enchillada +for one dish is delicious for those who like it, and if you have another +substantial dish such as a plain roast which practically everyone is able +to eat, those who don't like Indian food can make their dinner of the +other course. + +It is the same way with the Italian dishes. One hating garlic and onions +would be very wretched if onions were put in each and every course, and +liberally. With Indian curry, a fatally bad selection would be a very +peppery soup, such as croute au pot filled with pepper, and fish with +green peppers, and then the curry, and then something casserole filled +again with peppers and onions and other throat-searing ingredients, +finishing with an endive salad. Yet more than one hostess has done exactly +this. Or equally bad is a dinner of flavorless white sauces from beginning +to end; a creamed soup, boiled fish with white sauce, then vol au vent of +creamed sweetbreads, followed by breast of chicken and mashed potatoes and +cauliflower, palm root salad, vanilla ice cream and lady-cake. Each thing +is good in itself but dreadful in the monotony of its combination. + +Another thing: although a dinner should not be long, neither should it +consist of samples, especially if set before men who are hungry! + +The following menu might seem at first glance a good dinner, but it is one +from which the average man would go home and forage ravenously in the ice +box: + +A canape (good, but merely an appetizer) +Clear soup (a dinner party helping, and no substance) +Smelts (one apiece) +Individual croutards of sweetbreads (holding about a dessert-spoonful) +Broiled squab, small potato croquette, and string beans +Lettuce salad, with about one small cracker apiece +Ice cream + +The only thing that had any sustaining quality, barring the potato which +was not more than a mouthful, was the last, and very few men care to make +their dinner of ice cream. If instead of squab there had been filet of +beef cut in generous slices, and the potato croquettes had been more +numerous, it would have been adequate. Or if there had been a thick cream +soup, and a fish with more substance--such as salmon or shad, or a baked +thick fish of which he could have had a generous helping--the squab would +have been adequate also. But many women order trimmings rather than food; +men usually like food. + + +=THE DINNER TABLE OF YESTERDAY= + +All of us old enough to remember the beginning of this century can bring +to mind the typical (and most fashionable) dinner table of that time. +Occasionally it was oblong or rectangular, but its favorite shape was +round, and a thick white damask cloth hung to the floor on all sides. +Often as not there was a large lace centerpiece, and in the middle of it +was a floral mound of roses (like a funeral piece, exactly), usually red. +The four compotiers were much scrolled and embossed, and the four +candlesticks, also scrolled, but not to match, had shades of perforated +silver over red silk linings, like those in restaurants to-day. And there +was a gas droplight thickly petticoated with fringed red silk. The plates +were always heavily "jewelled" and hand painted, and enough forks and +knives and spoons were arrayed at each "place" for a dozen courses. The +glasses numbered at least six, and the entire table was laden with little +dishes--and spoons! There were olives, radishes, celery and salted nuts in +glass dishes; and about ten kinds of sugar-plums in ten different styles +of ornate and bumpy silver dishes; and wherever a small space of +tablecloth showed through, it was filled with either a big "Apostle" spoon +or little Dutch ones criss-crossed. + +Bread was always rolled in the napkin (and usually fell on the floor) and +the oysters were occasionally found already placed on the table when the +guests came in to dinner! Loading a table to the utmost of its capacity +with useless implements which only in rarest instances had the least +value, would seem to prove that quantity without quality must have been +thought evidence of elegance and generous hospitality! And the astounding +part of the bad taste epidemic was that few if any escaped. Even those who +had inherited colonial silver and glass and china of consummate beauty, +sent it dust-gathering to the attic and cluttered their tables with stuffy +and spurious lumber. + +But to-day the classic has come into its own again! As though recovering +from an illness, good taste is again demanding severe beauty of form and +line, and banishing everything that is useless or superfluous. During the +last twenty years most of us have sent an army of lumpy dishes to the +melting-pot, and junky ornaments to the ash heap along with plush table +covers, upholstered mantel-boards and fern dishes! To-day we are going +almost to the extreme of bareness, and putting nothing on our tables not +actually needed for use. + + +=THE DINING-ROOM= + +It is scarcely necessary to point out that the bigger and more ambitious +the house, the more perfect its appointments must be. If your house has a +great Georgian dining-room, the table should be set with Georgian or an +_earlier_ period English silver. Furthermore, in a "great" dining-room, +all the silver should be real! "Real" meaning nothing so trifling as +"sterling," but genuine and important "period" pieces made by Eighteenth +Century silversmiths, such as de Lamerie or Crespell or Buck or Robertson, +or perhaps one of their predecessors. Or if, like Mrs. Oldname, you live +in an old Colonial house, you are perhaps also lucky enough to have +inherited some genuine American pieces made by Daniel Rogers or Paul +Revere! Or if you are an ardent admirer of Early Italian architecture and +have built yourself a Fifteenth Century stone-floored and frescoed or +tapestry-hung dining room, you must set your long refectory table with a +"runner" of old hand-linen and altar embroidery, or perhaps Thirteenth +Century damask and great cisterns or ewers and beakers in high-relief +silver and gold; or in Callazzioli or majolica, with great bowls of fruit +and church candlesticks of gilt, and even follow as far as is practicable +the crude table implements of that time. It need not be pointed out that +Twentieth Century appurtenances in a Thirteenth or Fifteenth Century room +are anachronisms. But because the dining-table in the replica of a palace +(whether English, Italian, Spanish or French) may be equipped with great +"standing cups" and candelabra so heavy a man can scarcely lift one, it +does not follow that all the rest of us who live in medium or small +houses, should attempt anything of the sort. Nothing could be more out of +proportion--and therefore in worse taste. Nor is it necessary, in order to +have a table that is inviting, to set it with any of the completely +exquisite things which all people of taste long for, but which are +possessed (in quantity at least) only through wealth, inheritance, or +"collector's luck." + + +=A PLEASING DINING-ROOM AT LIMITED COST= + +Enchanting dining-rooms and tables have been achieved with an outlay +amounting to comparatively nothing. + +There is a dining-room in a certain small New York house that is quite as +inviting as it is lacking in expensiveness. Its walls are rough-plastered +"French gray." Its table is an ordinary drop-leaf kitchen one painted a +light green that is almost gray; the chairs are wooden ones, somewhat on +the Windsor variety, but made of pine and painted like the table, and the +side tables or consoles are made of a cheap round pine table which has +been sawed in half, painted gray-green, and the legless sides fastened to +the walls. The glass curtains are point d'esprit net with a deep flounce +at the bottom and outside curtains are (expensive) watermelon pink +changeable taffeta. There is a gilt mirror over a cream (absolutely plain) +mantel and over each console a picture of a conventional bouquet of +flowers in a flat frame the color of the furniture, with the watermelon +color of the curtains predominating in a neutral tint background. The +table is set with a rather coarse cream-colored linen drawn-work +centerpiece (a tea cloth actually) big enough to cover all but three +inches of table edge. In the middle of the table is a glass bowl with a +wide turn-over rim, holding deep pink flowers (roses or tulips) standing +upright in glass flower holders as though growing. In midwinter, when real +flowers are too expensive, porcelain ones take their place--unless there +is a lunch or dinner party. The compotiers are glass urns and the only +pieces of silver used are two tall Sheffield candelabra at night, without +shades, the salts and peppers and the necessary spoons and forks. The +knives are "ivory" handled. + + +=SETTING THE TABLE= + +Everything on the table must be geometrically spaced; the centerpiece in +the actual center, the "places" at equal distances, and all utensils +balanced; beyond this one rule you may set your table as you choose. + +If the tablecloth is of white damask, which for dinner is always good +style, a "felt" must be put under it. (To say that it must be smooth and +white, in other words perfectly laundered, is as beside the mark as to say +that faces and hands should be clean!) If the tablecloth has lace +insertions, it must on no account be put over satin or over a color. In a +very "important" dining-room and on a very large table, a cloth of plain +and finest quality damask with no trimming other than a monogram (or +crest) embroidered on either side, is in better taste than one of linen +with elaborations of lace and embroidery. Damask is the old-fashioned but +essentially conservative (and safely best style) tablecloth, especially, +suitable in a high-ceilinged room that is either English, French, or of no +special period, in decoration. Lace tablecloths are better suited to an +Italian room--especially if the table is a refectory one. Handkerchief +linen tablecloths embroidered and lace-inserted are also, strangely +enough, suited to all quaint, low-ceilinged, old-fashioned but beautifully +appointed rooms; the reason being that the lace cloth is put over a bare +table. The lace cloth must also go over a refectory table without felt or +other lining. + +Very high-studded rooms (unless Italian) on the other hand, seem to need +the thickness of damask. To be sure, one does see in certain houses--at +the Gildings' for instance--an elaborate lace and embroidery tablecloth +put on top of a plain one which in turn goes over a felt, but this +combination is always somewhat overpowering, whereas lace over a bare +table is light and fragile. + +Another thing--very ornate, large, and arabesqued designs, no matter how +marvellous as examples of workmanship, inevitably produce a vulgar effect. + +All needlework, whether to be used on the table or on a bed, must, in a +beautifully finished house, be fine rather than striking. Coarse linen, +coarse embroideries, all sorts of Russian drawn-work, Italian needlework +or mosaic (but avoiding big scrolled patterns), are in perfect +keeping--and therefore in good taste--in a cottage, a bungalow or a house +whose furnishings are not too fine. + +But whatever type of cloth is used, the middle crease must be put on so +that it is an absolutely straight and unwavering line down the exact +center from head to foot. If it is an embroidered one, be sure the +embroidery is "right side out." Next goes the centerpiece which is always +the chief ornament. Usually this is an arrangement of flowers in either a +bowl or a vase, but it can be any one of an almost unlimited variety of +things; flowers or fruit in any arrangement that taste and ingenuity can +devise; or an ornament in silver that needs no flowers, such as a covered +cup; or an epergne, which, however, necessitates the use of fruit, flowers +or candy. Mrs. Wellborn, for instance, whose heirlooms are better than her +income, rarely uses flowers, but has a wonderful old centerpiece that is +ornament enough in itself. The foundation is a mirror representing a lake, +surrounded by silver rocks and grass. At one side, jutting into the lake, +is a knoll with a group of trees sheltering a stag and doe. The ornament +is entirely of silver, almost twenty inches high, and about twenty inches +in diameter across the "lake." + +The Normans have a full-rigged silver ship in the center of their table +and at either end rather tall lanterns, Venetian really, but rather +appropriate to the ship; and the salt cellars are very tall ones (about +ten inches high), of sea shells supported on the backs of dolphins. + +However, to go back to table setting: A cloth laid straight; then a +centerpiece put in the middle; then four candlesticks at the four corners, +about half-way between the center and the edge of the table, or two +candelabra at either end halfway between the places of the host and +hostess and the centerpiece. Candles are used with or without shades. +Fashion at the moment, says "without," which means that, in order to bring +the flame well above people's eyes, candlesticks or candelabra must be +high and the candles as long as the proportion can stand. Longer candles +can be put in massive candlesticks than in fragile ones. But whether +shaded or not, there are candles on all dinner tables always! The center +droplight has gone out entirely. Electroliers in candlesticks were never +good style, and kerosene lamps in candlesticks--horrible! Fashion says, +"Candles! preferably without shades, but shades if you insist, and few or +many--but candles!" + +Next comes the setting of the places. (If it is an extension table, leaves +have, of course, been put in; or if it is stationary, guests have been +invited according to its size.) The distance between places at the table +must never be so short that guests have no elbow room, and that the +servants can not pass the dishes properly; when the dining-room chairs are +very high backed and are placed so close as to be almost touching, it is +impossible for them not to risk spilling something over some one. On the +other hand, to place people a yard or more apart so that conversation has +to be shouted into the din made by everyone else's shouting, is equally +trying. About two feet from plate center to plate center is ideal. If the +chairs have narrow and low backs, people can sit much closer together, +especially at a small round table, the curve of which leaves a spreading +wedge of space between the chairs at the back even if the seats touch at +the front corners. But on the long straight sides of a rectangular table +in a very large--and impressive--dining-room there should be at least a +foot of space between the chairs. + + +=SETTING THE PLACES= + +The necessary number of plates, with the pattern or initials right side +up, are first put around the table at equal distances (spaced with a tape +measure if the butler or waitress has not an accurate eye). Then on the +left of each plate, handle towards the edge of the table, and prongs up, +is put the salad fork, the meat fork is put next, and then the fish fork. +The salad fork, which will usually be the third used, is thus laid +nearest to the plate. If there is an entree, the fork for this course is +placed between the fish fork and that for the roast and the salad fork is +left to be brought in later. On the right of the plate, and nearest to it, +is put the steel meat knife, then the silver fish knife, the edge of each +toward the plate. Then the soup spoon and then the oyster fork or grape +fruit spoon. Additional forks and knives are put on the table during +dinner. + +In putting on the glasses, the water goblet is at the top and to the right +of the knives, and the wine glasses are either grouped to the right of the +goblet, or in a straight line slanting down from the goblet obliquely +towards the right. (Butter plates are never put on a dinner table.) A +dinner napkin folded square and flat is laid on each "place" plate; very +fancy foldings are not in good taste, but if the napkin is very large, the +sides are folded in so as to make a flattened roll a third the width of +its height. (Bread should _not_ be put in the napkin--not nowadays.) The +place cards are usually put above the plate on the tablecloth, but some +people put them on top of the napkin because they are more easily read. + +When the places have been set, four silver dishes (or more on a very big +table), either bowl or basket or paten shaped, are put at the four +corners, between the candlesticks (or candelabra) and the centerpiece; or +wherever there are four equally spaced vacancies on the table. These +dishes, or compotiers, hold candy or fruit, chosen less for taste than for +decorative appearance. + +On a very large table the four compotiers are filled with candy, and two +or four larger silver dishes or baskets are filled with fruit and put on +alternately with the candy dishes. Flowers are also often put in two or +four smaller vases, in addition to a larger and dominating one in the +center. + +Peppers and salts should be put at every other place. For a dinner of +twelve there should be six salt cellars at least, if not six pepper pots. + +Olives and radishes are served from the side table, but salted nuts are +often put on the dinner table either in two big silver dishes, or in small +individual ones. + + +=HAVE SILVER THAT SHINES OR NONE= + +Lots of people who would not dream of using a wrinkled tablecloth or +chipped glass or china, seem perfectly blind to dirty silver--silver that +is washed clean of food of course, but so dull that it looks like +jaundiced pewter. + +Don't put any silver on your table if you can't have it cleaned. +Infinitely rather have every ornament of glass or china--and if knives and +forks have crevices in the design of their handles that are hard to clean, +buy plain plated ones, or use tin! Anything is better than yellow-faced +dirty-finger-nailed silver. The first thing to ask in engaging a waitress +is, "Can you clean silver?" If she can't, she would better be something +else. + +Of course no waitress and no single-handed butler can keep silver the way +it is kept in such houses as the Worldlys', nor is such perfection +expected. The silver polishing of perfection in huge houses is done by +such an expert that no one can tell whether a fork has that moment been +sent from the silversmiths or not. It is not merely polished until it is +bright, but burnished so that it is new! Every piece of silver in certain +of the great establishments, or in smaller ones that are run like a great +one, is never picked up by a servant except with a rouged chamois. No +piece of silver is ever allowed by the slightest chance to touch another +piece. Every piece is washed separately. The footman who gathers two or +three forks in a bunch will never do it a second time, and keep his place. +If the ring of a guest should happen to scratch a knife handle or a fork, +the silver-polisher may have to spend an entire day using his thumb or a +silver buffer, and rub and rub until no vestige of a scratch remains. +Perfection such as this is attainable only in a great house where servants +are specialists of super-efficiency; but in every perfectly run house, +where service is not too limited, every piece of silver that is put on the +table, at every meal, is handled with a rouged chamois and given a quick +wipe-off as it is laid on the dining table. No silver should ever be +picked up in the fingers as that always leaves a mark. + +And the way "moderate" households, which are nevertheless perfectly run +for their size and type, have burnished silver, is by using not more than +they can have cleaned. + +In view of the present high cost of living (including wages) and the +consequent difficulty, with a reduced number of servants, of keeping a +great quantity of silver brilliant, even the most fashionable people are +more and more using only what is essential, and in occasional instances, +are taking to china! People who are lucky enough to have well-stored +attics these days are bringing treasures out of them. + +But services of Swansea or Lowestoft or Spode, while easily cleaned, are +equally easily broken, so that genuine Eighteenth Century pieces are more +apt to see a cabinet than a dinner table. + +But the modern manufacturers are making enchanting "sets" that are +replicas of the old. These tea sets with cups and saucers to match and +with a silver kettle and tray, are seen almost as often as silver services +in simple houses in the country, as well as in the small apartment in +town. + + +=DON'TS IN TABLE SETTING!= + +Don't put ribbon trimmings on your table. Satin bands and bows have no +more place on a lady's table than have chop-house appurtenances. Pickle +jars, catsup bottles, toothpicks and crackers are not private-house table +ornaments. Crackers are passed with oyster stew and with salad, and any +one who wants "relishes" can have them in his own house (though they +insult the cook!). At all events, pickles and tomato sauces and other cold +meat condiments are never presented at table in a bottle, but are put in +glass dishes with small serving spoons. Nothing is ever served from the +jar or bottle it comes in except certain kinds of cheese, Bar-le-Duc +preserves (only sometimes) and wines. Pickles, jellies, jams, olives, are +all put into small glass dishes. + +Saucers for vegetables are contrary to all etiquette. The only extra +plates ever permitted are the bread and butter plates which are put on at +breakfast and lunch and supper above and to the left of the forks, but +_never_ at dinner. The crescent-shaped salad plate, made to fit at the +side of the place plate, is seen rarely in fashionable houses. When two +plates are made necessary by the serving of game or broiled chicken or +squab, for which the plate should be very hot, at the same time as the +salad which is cold, the crescent-shaped plate is convenient in that it +takes little room. + +A correct and very good serving dish for a family of two, is the vegetable +dish that has a partition dividing it into two or even three divisions, so +that a small quantity of two or three vegetables can be passed at the same +time. + +Napkin rings are unknown in fashionable houses outside of the nursery. But +in large families where it is impossible to manage such a wash as three +clean napkins a day entail, napkin rings are probably necessary. In most +moderately run houses, a napkin that is unrumpled and spotless after a +meal, is put aside and used again for breakfast; but to be given a napkin +that is not perfectly clean is a horrid thought. Perhaps though, the +necessity for napkin rings results in the achievement of the immaculate +napkin--which is quite a nice thought. + + +=CORRECT SERVICE OF DINNER= + +Whether there are two at table or two hundred, plates are changed and +courses presented in precisely the same manner. + +For faultless service, if there are many "accompanied" dishes, two +servants are necessary to wait on as few as two persons. But two can also +efficiently serve eight; or with unaccompanied dishes an expert servant +can manage eight alone, and with one assistant, he can perfectly manage +twelve. + +In old-fashioned times people apparently did not mind waiting tranquilly +through courses and between courses, even though meat grew cold long +before the last of many vegetables was passed, and they waited endlessly +while a slow talker and eater finished his topic and his food. But people +of to-day do not like to wait an unnecessary second. The moment fish is +passed them, they expect the cucumbers or sauce, or whatever should go +with the fish, to follow immediately. And when the first servant hands the +meat course, they consider that they should not be expected to wait a +moment for a second servant to hand the gravy or jelly or whatever goes +with the meat. No service is good in this day unless swift--and, of +course, soundless. + +A late leader of Newport society who had a world-wide reputation for the +brilliancy of her entertainments, had an equally well-known reputation for +rapidly served dinners. "Twenty minutes is quite long enough to sit at +table--ever!" is what she used to say, and what her household had to live +up to. She had a footman to about every two guests and any one dining with +her had to cling to the edge of his plate or it would be whisked away! One +who looked aside or "let go" for a second found his plate gone! That was +extreme; but, even so, better than a snail-paced dinner! + + +=THE DINNER HOUR= + +In America the dinner hour is not a fixture, since it varies in various +sections of the country. The ordinary New York hour when "giving a dinner" +is eight o'clock, half past eight in Newport. In New York, when dining and +going to the opera, one is usually asked for seven-fifteen, and for +seven-thirty before going to a play. Otherwise only "quiet" people dine +before eight. But invitations should, of course, be issued for whatever +hour is customary in the place where the dinner is given. + + +=THE BUTLER IN THE DINING-ROOM= + +When the dinner guests enter the dining-room, it is customary for the +butler to hold out the chair of the mistress of the house. This always +seems a discourtesy to the guests. And an occasional hostess insists on +having the chair of the guest of honor held by the butler instead of her +own. If there are footmen enough, the chair of each lady is held for her; +otherwise the gentleman who takes her in to dinner helps her to be seated. +Ordinarily where there are two servants, the head one holds the chair of +the hostess and the second, the chair on the right of the host. The +hostess always seats herself as quickly as possible so that the butler may +be free to assist a guest to draw her chair up to the table. + +In a big house the butler always stands throughout a meal back of the +hostess' chair, except when giving one of the men under him a direction, +or when pouring wine. He is not supposed to leave the dining-room himself +or ever to handle a dish. In a smaller house where he has no assistant, he +naturally does everything himself; when he has a second man or +parlor-maid, he passes the principal dishes and the assistant follows with +the accompanying dishes or vegetables. + +So-called "Russian" service is the only one known in New York which merely +means that nothing to eat is ever put on the table except ornamental +dishes of fruit and candy. The meat is carved in the kitchen or pantry, +vegetables are passed and returned to the side table. Only at breakfast or +possibly at supper are dishes of food put on the table. + + +=THE EVER-PRESENT PLATE= + +From the setting of the table until it is cleared for dessert, a plate +must remain at every cover. Under the first two courses there are always +two plates. The plate on which oysters or hors d'oeuvres are served is put +on top of the place plate. At the end of the course the used plate is +removed, leaving the place plate. The soup plate is also put on top of +this same plate. But when the soup plate is removed, the underneath plate +is removed with it, and a hot plate immediately exchanged for the two +taken away. The place plate merely becomes a hot fish plate, but it is +there just the same. + + +_The Exchange Plate_ + +If the first course had been a canape or any cold dish that was offered in +bulk instead of being brought on separate plates, it would have been eaten +on the place plate, and an exchange plate would have been necessary before +the soup could be served. That is, a clean plate would have been +exchanged for the used one, and the soup plate then put on top of that. +The reason for it is that a plate with food on it can never be exchanged +for a plate that has had food on it; a clean one must come between. + +If an entree served on individual plates follows the fish, clean plates +are first exchanged for the used ones until the whole table is set with +clean plates. Then the entree is put at each place in exchange for the +clean plate. Although dishes are always presented at the left of the +person served, plates are removed and replaced at the right. Glasses are +poured and additional knives placed at the right, but forks are put on as +needed from the left. + + +_May the Plates for Two Persons Be Brought in Together?_ + +The only plates that can possibly be brought into the dining-room one in +each hand are for the hors d'oeuvres, soup and dessert. The first two +plates are placed on others which have not been removed, and the dessert +plates need merely be put down on the tablecloth. But the plates of every +other course have to be exchanged and therefore each individual service +requires two hands. Soup plates, two at a time, would better not be +attempted by any but the expert and sure-handed, as it is in placing one +plate, while holding the other aloft that the mishap of "soup poured down +some one's back" occurs! If only one plate of soup is brought in at a +time, that accident at least cannot happen. In the same way the spoon and +fork on the dessert plate can easily fall off, unless it is held level. +"Two plates at a time" therefore is not a question of etiquette, but of +the servant's skill. + + +_Plate Removed When Fork Is Laid Down_ + +Once upon a time it was actually considered impolite to remove a single +plate until the last guest at the table had finished eating! In other days +people evidently did not mind looking at their own dirty plates +indefinitely, nor could they have minded sitting for hours at table. Good +service to-day requires the removal of each plate as soon as the fork is +laid upon it; so that by the time the last fork is put down, the entire +table is set with clean plates and is ready for the next course. + + +=DOUBLE SERVICE AND THE ORDER OF TABLE PRECEDENCE= + +At every well-ordered dinner, there should be a double service for ten or +twelve persons; that is, no hot dish should, if avoidable, be presented to +more than six, or nine at the outside. At a dinner of twelve, for +instance, two dishes each holding six portions, are garnished exactly +alike and presented at opposite ends of the table. One to the lady on the +right of the host, and the other to the lady at the opposite end of the +table. The services continue around to the right, but occasional butlers +direct that after serving the "lady of honor" on the right of the host, +the host is skipped and the dish presented to the lady on his left, after +which the dish continues around the table to the left, to ladies and +gentlemen as they come. In this event the second service starts opposite +the lady of honor and also skips the first gentleman, after which it goes +around the table to the left, skips the lady of honor and ends with the +host. The first service when it reaches the other end of the table skips +the lady who was first served and ends with the gentleman who was skipped. + +It is perhaps more polite to the ladies to give them preference, but it is +complicated, and leaves another gentleman as well as the host, sitting +between two ladies who are eating while he is apparently forgotten. The +object (which is to prevent the lady who is second in precedence from +being served last) can be accomplished by beginning the first service from +the lady on the right of the host and continuing on the right 6 places; +the second service begins with the lady on the left of the host and +continues on the left five places, and then comes back to the host. The +best way of all, perhaps, is to vary the "honor" by serving the entree and +salad courses first to the lady on the left instead of to the lady on the +right and continue the service of these two courses to the left. + +A dinner of eighteen has sometimes two services, but if _very_ perfect, +three. Where there are three services they start with the lady of honor +and the sixth from her on either side and continue to the right. + + +=FILLING GLASSES= + +As soon as the guests are seated and the first course put in front of +them, the butler goes from guest to guest on the right hand side of each, +and asks "Apollinaris or plain water!" and fills the goblet accordingly. +In the same way he asks later before pouring wine: "Cider, sir?" "Grape +fruit cup, madam?" Or in a house which has the remains of a cellar, +"Champagne?" or "Do you care for whiskey and soda, sir?" + +But the temperature and service of wines which used to be an essential +detail of every dinner have now no place at all. Whether people will offer +frapped cider or some other iced drink in the middle of dinner, and a +warmed something else to take the place of claret with the fish, remains +to be seen. A water glass standing alone at each place makes such a meager +and untrimmed looking table that most people put on at least two wine +glasses, sherry and champagne, or claret and sherry, and pour something +pinkish or yellowish into them. A rather popular drink at present is an +equal mixture of white grape-juice and ginger ale with mint leaves and +much ice. Those few who still have cellars, serve wines exactly as they +used to, white wine, claret, sherry and Burgundy warm, champagne ice cold; +and after dinner, green mint poured over crushed ice in little glasses, +and other liqueurs of room temperature. Whiskey is always poured at the +table over ice in a tall tumbler, each gentleman "saying when" by putting +his hand out. The glass is then filled with soda or Apollinaris. + +As soon as soup is served the parlor-maid or a footman passes a dish or a +basket of dinner rolls. If rolls are not available, bread cut in about +two-inch-thick slices, is cut cross-ways again in three. An old-fashioned +silver cake basket makes a perfect modern bread-basket. Or a small wicker +basket that is shallow and inconspicuous will do. A guest helps himself +with his fingers and lays the roll or bread on the tablecloth, always. No +bread plates are ever on a table where there is no butter, and no butter +is ever served at a dinner. Whenever there is no bread left at any one's +place at table, more should be passed. The glasses should also be kept +filled. + + +=PRESENTING DISHES= + +Dishes are presented held flat on the palm of the servant's right hand; +every hot one must have a napkin placed as a pad under it. An especially +heavy meat platter can be steadied if necessary by holding the edge of the +platter with the left hand, the fingers protected from being burned by a +second folded napkin. + +Each dish is supplied with whatever implements are needed for helping it; +a serving spoon (somewhat larger than an ordinary tablespoon) is put on +all dishes and a fork of large size is added for fish, meat, salad and any +vegetables or other dishes that are hard to help. String beans, braised +celery, spinach en branche, etc., need a fork and spoon. Asparagus has +various special lifters and tongs, but most people use the ordinary spoon +and fork, putting the spoon underneath and the fork, prongs down, to hold +the stalks on the spoon while being removed to the plate. Corn on the cob +is taken with the fingers, but is _never_ served at a dinner party. A +galantine or mousse, as well as peas, mashed potatoes, rice, etc., are +offered with a spoon only. + + +=THE SERVING TABLE= + +The serving table is an ordinary table placed in the corner of the +dining-room near the door to the pantry, and behind a screen, so that it +may not be seen by the guests at table. In a small dining-room where space +is limited, a set of shelves like a single bookcase is useful. + +The serving table is a halfway station between the dinner table and the +pantry. It holds stacks of cold plates, extra forks and knives, and the +finger bowls and dessert plates. The latter are sometimes put out on the +sideboard, if the serving table is small or too crowded. + +At little informal dinners all dishes of food after being passed are left +on the serving table in case they are called upon for a second helping. +But at formal dinners, dishes are never passed twice, and are therefore +taken direct to the pantry after being passed. + + +=CLEARING TABLE FOR DESSERT= + +At dinner always, whether at a formal one, or whether a member of the +family is alone, the salad plates, or the plates of whatever course +precedes dessert, are removed, leaving the table plateless. The salt +cellars and pepper pots are taken off on the serving tray (without being +put on any napkin or doily, as used to be the custom), and the crumbs are +brushed off each place at table with a folded napkin onto a tray held +under the table edge. A silver crumb scraper is still seen occasionally +when the tablecloth is plain, but its hard edge is not suitable for +embroidery and lace, and ruinous to a bare table, so that a napkin folded +to about the size and thickness of an iron-holder is the crumb-scraper of +to-day. + + +=DESSERT= + +The captious say "dessert means the fruit and candy which come after the +ices." "Ices" is a misleading word too, because suggestive of the +individual "ices" which flourished at private dinners in the Victorian +age, and still survive at public dinners, suppers at balls, and at wedding +breakfasts, but which are seen at not more than one private dinner in a +thousand--if that. + +In the present world of fashion the "dessert" is ice-cream, served in one +mold; not ices (a lot of little frozen images). And the refusal to call +the "sweets" at the end of the dinner, which certainly include ice cream +and cake, "dessert," is at least not the interpretation of either good +usage or good society. In France, where the word "dessert" originated, +"ices" were set apart from dessert merely because French chefs delight in +designating each item of a meal as a separate course. But chefs and +cook-books notwithstanding, dessert means everything sweet that comes at +the end of a meal. And the great American dessert is ice cream--or pie. +Pie, however, is not a "company" dessert. Ice cream on the other hand is +the inevitable conclusion of a formal dinner. The fact that the spoon +which is double the size of a teaspoon is known as nothing but a dessert +spoon, is offered in further proof that "dessert" is "spoon" and not +"finger" food! + + +_Dessert Service_ + +There are two, almost equally used, methods of serving dessert. The first +or "hotel method," also seen in many fashionable private houses, is to put +on a china plate for ice cream or a first course, and the finger bowl on a +plate by itself, afterwards. In the "private house" service, the entire +dessert paraphernalia is put on at once. + +In detail: In the two-course, or hotel, service, the "dessert" plate is of +china, or if of glass, it must have a china one under it. A china dessert +plate is just a fairly deep medium sized plate and it is always put on the +table with a "dessert" spoon and fork on it. After the inevitable ice +cream has been eaten, a fruit plate with a finger bowl on it, is put on in +exchange. A doily goes under the finger bowl, and a fruit knife and fork +on either side. + +In the single course, or private house, service, the ice cream plate is of +glass and belongs under the finger bowl which it matches. The glass plate +and finger bowl in turn are put on the fruit plate with a doily between, +and the dessert spoon and fork go on either side of the finger bowl +(instead of the fruit knife and fork). This arrangement of plates is seen +in such houses as the Worldlys' and the Oldnames', and in fact in most +very well done houses. The finger bowls and glass plates that match make a +prettier service than the finger bowl on a china plate by itself; also it +eliminates a change--but not a removal--of plates. In this service, a +guest lifts the finger bowl off and eats his ice cream on the glass plate, +after which the glass plate is removed and the china one is left for +fruit. + +Some people think this service confusing because an occasional guest, in +lifting off the finger bowl, lifts the glass plate too, and eats his +dessert on his china plate. It is merely necessary for the servants to +notice at which place the china plate has been used and to bring a clean +one; otherwise a "cover" is left with a glass plate or a bare tablecloth +for fruit. Also any one taking fruit must have a fruit knife and fork +brought to him. Fruit is passed immediately after ice-cream; and +chocolates, conserves, or whatever the decorative sweets may be, are +passed last. + +This single service may sound as though it were more complicated than the +two-course service, but actually it is less. Few people use the wrong +plate and usually the ice-cream plates having others under them can be +taken away two at a time. Furthermore, scarcely any one takes fruit, so +that the extra knives and forks are few, if any. + +Before finishing dessert, it may be as well to add in detail, that the +finger bowl doiley is about five or six inches in diameter; it may be +round or square, and of the finest and sheerest needlework that can be +found (or afforded). It must always be cream or white. Colored +embroideries look well sometimes on a country lunch table but not at +dinner. No matter where it is used, the finger bowl is less than half +filled with cold water; and at dinner parties, a few violets, sweet peas, +or occasionally a gardenia, is put in it. (A slice of lemon is never seen +outside of a chop-house where eating with the fingers may necessitate the +lemon in removing grease. Pretty thought!) + +Black coffee is never served at a fashionable dinner table, but is brought +afterwards with cigarettes and liqueurs into the drawing-room for the +ladies, and with cigars, cigarettes and liqueurs into the smoking room for +the gentlemen. + +If there is no smoking-room, coffee and cigars are brought to the table +for the gentlemen after the ladies have gone into the drawing-room. + + +=PLACE CARDS= + +The place cards are usually about an inch and a half high by two inches +long, sometimes slightly larger. People of old family have their crest +embossed in plain white; occasionally an elderly hostess, following a +lifelong custom, has her husband's crest stamped in gold. Nothing other +than a crest must ever be engraved on a place card; and usually they are +plain, even in the houses of old families. + +Years ago "hand-painted" place cards are said to have been in fashion. But +excepting on such occasions as a Christmas or a birthday dinner, they are +never seen in private houses to-day. + + +=MENU CARDS= + +Small, standing porcelain slates, on which the menu is written, are seen +on occasional dinner tables. Most often there is only one which is placed +in front of the host; but sometimes there is one between every two guests. + + +=SEATING THE TABLE= + +As has already been observed, the most practical way to seat the table is +to write the names on individual cards first, and then "place" them as +though playing solitaire; the guest of honor on the host's right, the +second lady in rank on his left; the most distinguished or oldest +gentleman on the right of the hostess, and the other guests filled in +between. + + +=WHO IS THE GUEST OF HONOR?= + +The guest of honor is the oldest lady present, or a stranger whom you wish +for some reason to honor. A bride at her first dinner in your house, after +her return from her honeymoon, takes, if you choose to have her, +precedence over older people. Or if a younger woman has been long away +she, in this instance of welcoming her home, takes precedence over her +elders. The guest of honor is always led in to dinner by the host and +placed on his right, the second in importance sits on his left and is +taken in to dinner by the gentleman on whose right she sits. The hostess +is always the last to go into the dining-room at a formal dinner. + + +=THE ENVELOPES FOR THE GENTLEMEN= + +In an envelope addressed to each gentleman is put a card on which is +written the name of the lady he is to take down to dinner. This card just +fits in the envelope, which is an inch or slightly less high and about two +inches long. When the envelopes are addressed and filled, they are +arranged in two neat rows on a silver tray and put in the front hall. The +tray is presented to each gentleman just before he goes into the +drawing-room, on his arrival. + + +=THE TABLE DIAGRAM= + +A frame made of leather, round or rectangular, with small openings at +regular intervals around the edge in which names written on cards can be +slipped, shows the seating of the table at a glance. In a frame holding +twenty-four cards, twelve guests would be indicated by leaving every other +card place blank, or for eight, only one in three is filled. This diagram +is shown to each gentleman upon his arrival, so that he can see who is +coming for dinner and where he himself is placed. At a dinner of ten or +less this diagram is especially convenient as "envelopes" are used only at +formal dinners of twelve and over. + + +=WHEN THE HOSTESS SITS AT THE SIDE= + +When the number of guests is a multiple of four, the host and hostess +never sit opposite each other. It would bring two ladies and two gentlemen +together if they did. At a table which seats two together at each end, the +fact that the host is opposite a gentleman and the hostess opposite a lady +is not noticeable; nor is it ever noticeable at a round table. But at a +narrow table which has room for only one at the end, the hostess +invariably sits in the seat next to that which is properly her own, +putting in her place a gentleman at the end. The host usually keeps his +seat rather than the hostess because the seat of honor is on his right; +and in the etiquette governing dinners, the host and not the hostess is +the more important personage! + +When there are only four, they keep their own places, otherwise the host +and hostess would sit next to each other. At a dinner of eight, twelve, +sixteen, twenty, etc., the host keeps his place, but at supper for eight +or twelve, the hostess keeps _her_ place and the host moves a place to the +right or left because the hostess at supper pours coffee or chocolate. And +although the host keeps his seat at a formal dinner in honor of the lady +he takes in, at a little dinner of eight, where there is no guest of +honor, the host does not necessarily keep his seat at the expense of his +wife unless he carves, in which case he must have the end place; just as +at supper she has the end place in order to pour. + + +=SIDEWALK, HALL, AND DRESSING ROOMS= + +One can be pretty sure on seeing a red velvet carpet spread down the steps +of a house (or up! since there are so many sunken American basement +entrances) that there are people for dinner. The carpet is kept rolled, or +turned under near the foot (or top) of the steps until a few minutes +before the dinner hour when it is spread across the width of the pavement +by the chauffeur or whoever is on duty on the sidewalk. Very big or formal +dinners often have an awning, especially at a house where there is much +entertaining and which has an awning of its own; but at an ordinary house, +for a dinner of twelve or so, the man on the pavement must, if it is +raining, shelter each arriving guest under his coachman's umbrella from +carriage to door. If it does not rain, he merely opens the doors of +vehicles. Checks are never given at dinners, no matter how big; every +motor is called by address at the end of the evening. The Worldly car is +not shouted for as "Worldly!" but "xox Fifth Avenue!" The typical coachman +of another day used to tell you "carriages are ordered for ten-fifteen." +Carriages were nearly always ordered for that hour, though with slow and +long dinners no one ever actually left until the horses had exercised for +at least an hour! But the chauffeur of to-day opens the door in +silence--unless there is to be a concert or amateur theatricals, when he, +like the coachman says, "Motors are ordered for twelve o'clock," or +whatever hour he is told to say. + +In this day of telephone and indefinite bridge games, many people prefer +to have their cars telephoned for, when they are ready to go home. Those +who do not play bridge leave an eight o'clock dinner about half past ten, +or at least order their cars for that hour. + +In all modern houses of size there are two rooms on the entrance floor, +built sometimes as dressing-rooms and nothing else, but more often they +are small reception rooms, each with a lavatory off of it. In the one +given to the ladies, there is always a dressing-table with toilet +appointments on it, and the lady's maid should be on duty to give whatever +service may be required; when there is no dressing-room on the ground +floor, the back of the hall is arranged with coat-hangers and an +improvised dressing-table for the ladies, since modern people--in New York +at least--never go up-stairs to a bedroom if they can help it. In fact, +nine ladies out of ten drop their evening cloaks at the front door, +handing them to the servant on duty, and go at once without more ado to +the drawing-room. A lady arriving in her own closed car can't be very much +blown about, in a completely air tight compartment and in two or three +minutes of time! + +Gentlemen also leave their hats and coats in the front part of the hail. A +servant presents to each a tray of envelopes, and if there is one, the +table diagram. Envelopes are not really necessary when there is a table +diagram, since every gentleman knows that he "takes in" the lady placed on +his right! But at very big dinners in New York or Washington, where many +people are sure to be strangers to one another, an absent-minded gentleman +might better, perhaps, have his partner's name safely in his pocket. + + +=ANNOUNCING GUESTS= + +A gentleman always falls behind his wife in entering the drawing-room. If +the butler knows the guests, he merely announces the wife's name first and +then the husband's. If he does not know them by sight he asks whichever is +nearest to him, "What name, please?" And whichever one is asked, answers: +"Mr. and Mrs. Lake." + +The butler then precedes the guests a few steps into the room where the +hostess is stationed, and standing aside says in a low tone but very +distinctly: "Mrs. Lake," a pause and then, "Mr. Lake." Married people are +usually announced separately as above, but occasionally people have their +guests announced "Mr. and Mrs. ----." + + +=ANNOUNCING PERSONS OF RANK= + +All men of high executive rank are not alone announced first, but take +precedence of their wives in entering the room. The President of the +United States is announced simply, "The President and Mrs. Harding." His +title needs no qualifying appendage, since he and he solely, is _the_ +President. He enters first, and alone, of course; and then Mrs. Harding +follows. The same form precisely is used for "The Vice-President and Mrs. +Coolidge." A governor is sometimes in courtesy called "Excellency" but the +correct announcement would be "the Governor of New Jersey and Mrs. +Edwards." He enters the room and Mrs. Edwards follows. "The Mayor and Mrs. +Thompson" observe the same etiquette; or in a city other than his own he +would be announced "The Mayor of Chicago and Mrs. Thompson." + +Other announcements are "The Chief Justice and Mrs. Taft," "The Secretary +of State and Mrs. Hughes." "Senator and Mrs. Washington," but in this case +the latter enters the room first, because his office is not executive. + +According to diplomatic etiquette an Ambassador and his wife should be +announced, "Their Excellencies the Ambassador and Ambassadress of Great +Britain." The Ambassador enters the room first. A Minister +Plenipotentiary is announced "The Minister of Sweden." He enters a moment +later and "Mrs. Ogren" follows. But a First Secretary and his wife are +announced, if they have a title of their own, "Count and Countess +European," or "Mr. and Mrs. American." + +The President, the Vice-President, the Governor of a State, the Mayor of a +city, the Ambassador of a foreign Power--in other words, all +executives--take precedence over their wives and enter rooms and vehicles +first. But Senators, Representatives, Secretaries of legations and all +other officials who are not executive, allow their wives to precede them, +just as they would if they were private individuals. + +Foreigners who have hereditary titles are announced by them: "The Duke and +Duchess of Overthere." "The Marquis and Marchioness of Landsend," or "Sir +Edward and Lady Blank," etc. Titles are invariably translated into +English, "Count and Countess Lorraine," not "M. le Comte et Mme. la +Comtesse Lorraine." + + +=HOW A HOSTESS RECEIVES AT A FORMAL DINNER= + +On all occasions of formality, at a dinner as well as at a ball, the +hostess stands near the door of her drawing-room, and as guests are +announced, she greets them with a smile and a handshake and says something +pleasant to each. What she says is nothing very important, charm of +expression and of manner can often wordlessly express a far more gracious +welcome than the most elaborate phrases (which as a matter of fact should +be studiously avoided). Unless a woman's loveliness springs from +generosity of heart and sympathy, her manners, no matter how perfectly +practised, are nothing but cosmetics applied to hide a want of inner +beauty; precisely as rouge and powder are applied in the hope of hiding +the lack of a beautiful skin. One device is about as successful as the +other; quite pleasing unless brought into comparison with the real. + +Mrs. Oldname, for instance, usually welcomes you with some such sentences +as, "I am very glad to see you" or "I am so glad you could come!" Or if it +is raining, she very likely tells you that you were very unselfish to +come out in the storm. But no matter what she says or whether anything at +all, she takes your hand with a firm pressure and her smile is really a +_smile_ of welcome, not a mechanical exercise of the facial muscles. She +gives you always--even if only for the moment--her complete attention; and +you go into her drawing-room with a distinct feeling that you are under +the roof, not of a mere acquaintance, but of a friend. Mr. Oldname who +stands never very far from his wife, always comes forward and, grasping +your hand, accentuates his wife's more subtle but no less vivid welcome. +And either you join a friend standing near, or he presents you, if you are +a man, to a lady; or if you are a lady, he presents a man to you. + +Some hostesses, especially those of the Lion-Hunting and the +New-to-Best-Society variety are much given to explanations, and love to +say "Mrs. Jones, I want you to meet Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith is the author +of 'Dragged from the Depths,' a most enlightening work of psychic +insight." Or to a good-looking woman, "I am putting you next to the +Assyrian Ambassador--I want him to carry back a flattering impression of +American women!" + +But people of good breeding do not over-exploit their distinguished guests +with embarrassing hyperbole, or make personal remarks. Both are in worst +possible taste. Do not understand by this that explanations can not be +made; it is only that they must not be embarrassingly made to their faces. +Nor must a "specialist's" subject be forced upon him, like a pair of +manacles, by any exploiting hostess who has captured him. Mrs. Oldname +might perhaps, in order to assist conversation for an interesting but +reticent person, tell a lady just before going in to dinner, "Mr. Traveler +who is sitting next to you at the table, has just come back from two years +alone with the cannibals." This is not to exploit her "Traveled Lion" but +to give his neighbor a starting point for conversation at table. And +although personal remarks are never good form, it would be permissible for +an older lady in welcoming a very young one, especially a debutante or a +bride, to say, "How lovely you look, Mary dear, and what an adorable +dress you have on!" + +But to say to an older lady, "That is a very handsome string of pearls you +are wearing," would be objectionable. + + +=THE DUTY OF THE HOST= + +The host stands fairly near his wife so that if any guest seems to be +unknown to all of the others, he can present him to some one. At formal +dinners introductions are never general and people do not as a rule speak +to strangers, except those next to them at table or in the drawing-room +after dinner. The host therefore makes a few introductions if necessary. +Before dinner, since the hostess is standing (and no gentleman may +therefore sit down) and as it is awkward for a lady who is sitting, to +talk with a gentleman who is standing, the ladies usually also stand until +dinner is announced. + + +=WHEN DINNER IS ANNOUNCED= + +It is the duty of the butler to "count heads" so that he may know when the +company has arrived. As soon as he has announced the last person, he +notifies the cook. The cook being ready, the butler, having glanced into +the dining-room to see that windows have been closed and the candles on +the table lighted, enters the drawing-room, approaches the hostess, bows, +and says quietly, "Dinner is served." + +The host offers his arm to the lady of honor and leads the way to the +dining-room. All the other gentlemen offer their arms to the ladies +appointed to them, and follow the host, in an orderly procession, two and +two; the only order of precedence is that the host and his partner lead, +while the hostess and her partner come last. At all formal dinners, place +cards being on the table, the hostess does not direct people where to sit. +If there was no table diagram in the hall, the butler, standing just +within the dining-room door, tells each gentleman as he approaches "Right" +or "Left." + +"R" or "L" is occasionally written on the lady's name card in the +envelopes given to the gentlemen, or if it is such a big dinner that there +are many separate tables, the tables are numbered with standing placards +(as at a public dinner) and the table number written on each lady's name +card. + + +=THE MANNERS OF A HOSTESS= + +First of all, a hostess must show each of her guests equal and impartial +attention. Also, although engrossed in the person she is talking to, she +must be able to notice anything amiss that may occur. The more competent +her servants, the less she need be aware of details herself, but the +hostess giving a formal dinner with uncertain dining-room efficiency has a +far from smooth path before her. No matter what happens, if all the china +in the pantry falls with a crash, she must not appear to have heard it. No +matter what goes wrong she must cover it as best she may, and at the same +time cover the fact that she is covering it. To give hectic directions, +merely accentuates the awkwardness. If a dish appears that is +unpresentable, she as quietly as possible orders the next one to be +brought in. If a guest knocks over a glass and breaks it, even though the +glass be a piece of genuine Steigel, her only concern must seemingly be +that her guest's place has been made uncomfortable. She says, "I am so +sorry, but I will have it fixed at once!" The broken glass is _nothing!_ +And she has a fresh glass brought (even though it doesn't match) and +dismisses all thought of the matter. + +Both the host and hostess must keep the conversation going, if it lags, +but this is not as definitely their duty at a formal, as at an informal +dinner It is at the small dinner that the skilful hostess has need of what +Thackeray calls the "showman" quality. She brings each guest forward in +turn to the center of the stage. In a lull in the conversation she says +beguilingly to a clever but shy man, "John, what was that story you told +me----" and then she repeats briefly an introduction to a topic in which +"John" particularly shines. Or later on, she begins a narrative and +breaks off suddenly, turning to some one else, "_You_ tell them!" + +These examples are rather bald, and overemphasize the method in order to +make it clear. Practise and the knowledge of human nature, or of the +particular temperament with which she is trying to deal, can alone tell +her when she may lead or provoke this or that one to being at his best, to +his own satisfaction as well as that of the others who may be present. Her +own character and sympathy are the only real "showman" assets, since no +one "shows" to advantage except in a congenial environment. + + +=THE LATE GUEST= + +A polite hostess waits twenty minutes after the dinner hour, and then +orders dinner served. To wait more than twenty minutes, or actually +fifteen after those who took the allowable five minutes grace, would be +showing lack of consideration to many for the sake of one. When the late +guest finally enters the dining-room, the hostess rises, shakes hands with +her, but does not leave her place at table. She doesn't rise for a +gentleman. It is the guest who must go up to the hostess and apologize for +being late. The hostess must never take the guest to task, but should say +something polite and conciliatory such as, "I was sure you would not want +us to wait dinner!" The newcomer is usually served with dinner from the +beginning unless she is considerate enough to say to the butler, "Just let +me begin with this course." + +Old Mrs. Toplofty's manners to late guests are an exception: on the last +stroke of eight o'clock in winter and half after eight in Newport, dinner +is announced. She waits for no one! Furthermore, a guest arriving after a +course has been served, does not have to protest against disarranging the +order of dinner since the rule of the house is that a course which has +passed a chair is not to be returned. A guest missing his "turn" misses +that course. The result is that everyone dining with Mrs. Toplofty arrives +on the stroke of the dinner hour; which is also rather necessary, as she +is one of those who like the service to be rushed through at top speed, +and anyone arriving half an hour late would find dinner over. + +It would be excellent discipline if there were more hostesses like her, +but no young woman could be so autocratic and few older ones care (or +dare) to be. Nothing shows selfish want of consideration more than being +habitually late for dinner. Not only are others, who were themselves +considerate, kept waiting, but dinner is dried and ruined for everyone +else through the fault of the tardy one. And though expert cooks know how +to keep food from becoming uneatable, no food can be so good as at the +moment for which it is prepared, and the habitually late guest should be +made to realize how unfairly she is meeting her hostess' generosity by +destroying for every one the hospitality which she was invited to share. + +On the other hand, before a formal dinner, it is the duty of the hostess +to be dressed and in her drawing-room fifteen, or ten minutes at least, +before the hour set for dinner. For a very informal dinner it is not +important to be ready ahead of time, but even then a late hostess is an +inconsiderate one. + + +=ETIQUETTE OF GLOVES AND NAPKIN= + +Ladies always wear gloves to formal dinners and take them off at table. +Entirely off. It is hideous to leave them on the arm, merely turning back +the hands. Both gloves and fan are supposed to be laid across the lap, and +one is supposed to lay the napkin folded once in half across the lap too, +on top of the gloves and fan, and all three are supposed to stay in place +on a slippery satin skirt on a little lap, that more often than not slants +downward. + +It is all very well for etiquette to say "They stay there," but every +woman knows they don't! And this is quite a nice question: If you obey +etiquette and lay the napkin on top of the fan and gloves loosely across +your satin-covered knees, it will depend merely upon the heaviness and +position of the fan's handle whether the avalanche starts right, left or +forward, onto the floor. There is just _one_ way to keep these four +articles (including the lap as one) from disintegrating, which is to put +the napkin cornerwise across your knees and tuck the two side corners +under like a lap robe, with the gloves and the fan tied in place as it +were. This ought not to be put in a book of etiquette, which should say +you must do nothing of the kind, but it is either do that or have the +gentleman next you groping under the table at the end of the meal; and it +is impossible to imagine that etiquette should wish to conserve the +picture of "gentlemen on all fours" as the concluding ceremonial at +dinners. + + +=THE TURNING OF THE TABLE= + +The turning of the table is accomplished by the hostess, who merely turns +from the gentleman (on her left probably) with whom she has been talking +through the soup and the fish course, to the one on her right. As she +turns, the lady to whom the "right" gentleman has been talking, turns to +the gentleman further on, and in a moment everyone at table is talking to +a new neighbor. Sometimes a single couple who have become very much +engrossed, refuse to change partners and the whole table is blocked; +leaving one lady and one gentleman on either side of the block, staring +alone at their plates. At this point the hostess has to come to the rescue +by attracting the blocking lady's attention and saying, "Sally, you cannot +talk to Professor Bugge any longer! Mr. Smith has been trying his best to +attract your attention." + +"Sally" being in this way brought awake, is obliged to pay attention to +Mr. Smith, and Professor Bugge, little as he may feel inclined, must turn +his attention to the other side. To persist in carrying on their own +conversation at the expense of others, would be inexcusably rude, not only +to their hostess but to every one present. + +At a dinner not long ago, Mr. Kindhart sitting next to Mrs. Wellborn and +left to himself because of the assiduity of the lady's farther partner, +slid his own name-card across and in front of her, to bring her attention +to the fact that it was "his turn." + + +=ENEMIES MUST BURY HATCHETS= + +One inexorable rule of etiquette is that you must talk to your next door +neighbor at a dinner table. You _must_, that is all there is about it! + +Even if you are placed next to some one with whom you have had a bitter +quarrel, consideration for your hostess, who would be distressed if she +knew you had been put in a disagreeable place, and further consideration +for the rest of the table which is otherwise "blocked," exacts that you +give no outward sign of your repugnance and that you make a pretence at +least for a little while, of talking together. + +At dinner once, Mrs. Toplofty, finding herself next to a man she quite +openly despised, said to him with apparent placidity, "I shall not talk to +you--because I don't care to. But for the sake of my hostess I shall say +my multiplication tables. Twice one are two, twice two are four ----" and she +continued on through the tables, making him alternate them with her. As +soon as she politely could she turned again to her other companion. + + +=MANNERS AT TABLE= + +It used to be an offense, and it still is considered impolite, to refuse +dishes at the table, because your refusal implies that you do not like +what is offered you. If this is true, you should be doubly careful to take +at least a little on your plate and make a pretence of eating some of it, +since to refuse course after course can not fail to distress your hostess. +If you are "on a diet" and accepted the invitation with that stipulation, +your not eating is excusable; but even then to sit with an empty plate in +front of you throughout a meal makes you a seemingly reproachful table +companion for those of good appetite sitting next to you. + + +=ATTACKING A COMPLICATED DISH= + +When a dinner has been prepared by a chef who prides himself on being a +decorative artist, the guest of honor and whoever else may be the first to +be served have quite a problem to know which part of an intricate +structure is to be eaten, and which part is scenic effect! + +The main portion is generally clear enough; the uncertainty is in whether +the flowers are eatable vegetables and whether the things that look like +ducks are potatoes, or trimming. If there are six or more, the chances are +they are edible, and that one or two of a kind are embellishments only. +Rings around food are nearly always to be eaten; platforms under food +seldom, if ever, are. Anything that looks like pastry is to be eaten; and +anything divided into separate units should be taken on your plate +complete. You should not try to cut a section from anything that has +already been divided into portions in the kitchen. Aspics and desserts +are, it must be said, occasionally Chinese puzzles, but if you do help +yourself to part of the decoration, no great harm is done. + +Dishes are _never_ passed from hand to hand at a dinner, not even at the +smallest and most informal one. Sometimes people pass salted nuts to each +other, or an extra sweet from a dish near by, but not circling the table. + + +=LEAVING THE TABLE= + +At the end of dinner, when the last dish of chocolates has been passed and +the hostess sees that no one is any longer eating, she looks across the +table, and catching the eye of one of the ladies, slowly stands up. The +one who happens to be observing also stands up, and in a moment everyone +is standing. The gentlemen offer their arms to their partners and conduct +them back to the drawing-room or the library or wherever they are to sit +during the rest of the evening. + +Each gentleman then slightly bows, takes leave of his partner, and +adjourns with the other gentlemen to the smoking-room, where after-dinner +coffee, liqueurs, cigars and cigarettes are passed, and they all sit where +they like and with whom they like, and talk. + +It is perfectly correct for a gentleman to talk to any other who happens +to be sitting near him, whether he knows him or not. The host on +occasions--but it is rarely necessary--starts the conversation if most of +the guests are inclined to keep silent, by drawing this one or that into +discussion of a general topic that everyone is likely to take part in. At +the end of twenty minutes or so, he must take the opportunity of the first +lull in the conversation to suggest that they join the ladies in the +drawing-room. + +In a house where there is no smoking-room, the gentlemen do not conduct +the ladies to the drawing-room, but stay where they are (the ladies +leaving alone) and have their coffee, cigars, liqueurs and conversation +sitting around the table. + +In the drawing-room, meanwhile, the ladies are having coffee, cigarettes, +and liqueurs passed to them. There is not a modern New York hostess, +scarcely even an old-fashioned one, who does not have cigarettes passed +after dinner. + +At a dinner of ten or twelve, the five or six ladies are apt to sit in one +group, or possibly two sit by themselves, and three of four together, but +at a very large dinner they inevitably fall into groups of four or five or +so each. In any case, the hostess must see that no one is left to sit +alone. If one of her guests is a stranger to the others, the hostess draws +a chair near one of the groups and offering it to her single guest sits +beside her. After a while when this particular guest has at least joined +the outskirts of the conversation of the group, the hostess leaves her and +joins another group where perhaps she sits beside some one else who has +been somewhat left out. When there is no one who needs any especial +attention, the hostess nevertheless sits for a time with each of the +different groups in order to spend at least a part of the evening with all +of her guests. + + +=WHEN THE GENTLEMEN RETURN TO THE DRAWING-ROOM= + +When the gentlemen return to the drawing-room, if there is a particular +lady that one of them wants to talk to, he naturally goes directly to +where she is, and sits down beside her. If, however, she is securely +wedged in between two other ladies, he must ask her to join him elsewhere. +Supposing Mr. Jones, for instance, wants to talk to Mrs. Bobo Gilding, who +is sitting between Mrs. Stranger and Miss Stiffleigh: Mr. Jones saunters +up to Mrs. Gilding--he must not look too eager or seem too directly to +prefer her to the two who are flanking her position, so he says rather +casually, "Will you come and talk to me?" Whereupon she leaves her +sandwiched position and goes over to another part of the room, and sits +down where there is a vacant seat beside her. Usually, however, the ladies +on the ends, being accessible, are more apt to be joined by the first +gentleman entering than is the one in the center, whom it is impossible to +reach. Etiquette has always decreed that gentlemen should not continue to +talk together after leaving the smoking-room, as it is not courteous to +those of the ladies who are necessarily left without partners. + +At informal dinners, and even at many formal ones, bridge tables are set +up in an adjoining room, if not in the drawing-room. Those few who do not +play bridge spend a half hour (or less) in conversation and then go home, +unless there is some special diversion. + + +=MUSIC OR OTHER ENTERTAINMENT AFTER DINNER= + +Very large dinners of fifty or over are almost invariably followed by some +sort of entertainment. Either the dinner is given before a ball or a +musicale or amateur theatricals, or professionals are brought in to dance +or sing. + +In this day when conversation is not so much a "lost" as a "wilfully +abandoned" art, people in numbers can not be left to spend an evening on +nothing but conversation. Grouped together by the hundred and with bridge +tables absent, the modern fashionables in America, and in England, too, +are as helpless as children at a party without something for them to do, +listen to, or look at! + + +=VERY BIG DINNERS= + +A dinner of sixty, for instance, is always served at separate tables; a +center one of twenty people, and four corner tables of ten each. Or if +less, a center table of twelve and four smaller tables of eight. A dinner +of thirty-six or less is seated at a single table. + +But whether there are eighteen, eighty, or one or two hundred, the setting +of each individual table and the service is precisely the same. Each one +is set with centerpiece, candles, compotiers, and evenly spaced plates, +with the addition of a number by which to identify it; or else each table +is decorated with different colored flowers, pink, yellow, orchid, white. +Whatever the manner of identification, the number or the color is written +in the corner of the ladies' name cards that go in the envelopes handed to +each arriving gentleman at the door: "pink," "yellow," "orchid," "white," +or "center table." + +In arranging for the service of dinner the butler details three footmen, +usually, to each table of ten, and six footmen to the center table of +twenty. There are several houses (palaces really) in New York that have +dining-rooms big enough to seat a hundred or more easily. But sixty is a +very big dinner, and even thirty does not "go" well without an +entertainment following it. + +Otherwise the details are the same in every particular as well as in table +setting: the hostess receives at the door; guests stand until dinner is +announced; the host leads the way with the guest of honor. The hostess +goes to table last. The host and hostess always sit at the big center +table and the others at that table are invariably the oldest present. No +one resents being grouped according to "age," but many do resent a +segregation of ultra fashionables. You must never put all the prominent +ones at one table, unless you want forever to lose the acquaintance of +those at every other. + +After dinner, the gentlemen go to the smoking-room and the ladies sit in +the ballroom, where, if there is to be a theatrical performance, the stage +is probably arranged. The gentlemen return, the guests take their places, +and the performance begins. After the performance the leave-taking is the +same as at all dinners or parties. + + +=TAKING LEAVE= + +That the guest of honor must be first to take leave was in former times so +fixed a rule that everyone used to sit on and on, no matter how late it +became, waiting for her whose duty it was, to go! More often than not, the +guest of honor was an absent-minded old lady, or celebrity, who very +likely was vaguely saying to herself, "Oh, my! are these people never +going home?" until by and by it dawned upon her that the obligation was +her own! + +But to-day, although it is still the obligation of the guest who sat on +the host's right to make the move to go, it is not considered +ill-mannered, if the hour is growing late, for another lady to rise first. +In fact, unless the guest of honor is one _really_, meaning a stranger or +an elderly lady of distinction, there is no actual precedence in being the +one first to go. If the hour is very early when the first lady rises, the +hostess, who always rises too, very likely says: "I hope you are not +thinking of going!" + +The guest answers, "We don't want to in the least, but Dick has to be at +the office so early!" or "I'm sorry, but I must. Thank you so much for +asking us." + +Usually, however, each one merely says, "Good night, thank you so much." +The hostess answers, "I am so glad you could come!" and she then presses a +bell (not one that any guest can hear!) for the servants to be in the +dressing-rooms and hall. When one guest leaves, they all leave--except +those at the bridge tables. They all say, "Good night" to whomever they +were talking with and shake hands, and then going up to their hostess, +they shake hands and say, "Thank you for asking us," or "Thank you so +much." + +"Thank you so much; good night," is the usual expression. And the hostess +answers, "It was so nice to see you again," or "I'm glad you could come." +But most usually of all she says merely, "Good night!" and suggests +friendliness by the tone in which she says it--an accent slightly more on +the "good" perhaps than on the "night." + +In the dressing-room, or in the hall, the maid is waiting to help the +ladies on with their wraps, and the butler is at the door. When Mr. and +Mrs. Jones are ready to leave, he goes out on the front steps and calls, +"Mr. Jones' car!" The Jones' chauffeur answers, "Here," the butler says to +either Mr. or Mrs. Jones, "Your car is at the door!" and they go out. + +The bridge people leave as they finish their games; sometimes a table at a +time or most likely two together. (Husbands and wives are never, if it +can be avoided, put at the same table.) Young people in saying good night +say, "Good night, it has been too wonderful!" or "Good night, and thank +you _so_ much." And the hostess smiles and says, "So glad you could come!" +or just "Good night!" + + +=THE LITTLE DINNER= + +The little dinner is thought by most people to be the very pleasantest +social function there is. It is always informal, of course, and intimate +conversation is possible, since strangers are seldom, or at least very +carefully, included. For younger people, or others who do not find great +satisfaction in conversation, the dinner of eight and two tables of bridge +afterwards has no rival in popularity. The formal dinner is liked by most +people now and then (and for those who don't especially like it, it is at +least salutary as a spine stiffening exercise), but for night after night, +season after season, the little dinner is to social activity what the +roast course is to the meal. + +The service of a "little" dinner is the same as that of a big one. As has +been said, proper service in properly run houses is never relaxed, whether +dinner is for eighteen or for two alone. The table appointments are +equally fine and beautiful, though possibly not quite so rare. Really +priceless old glass and china can't be replaced because duplicates do not +exist and to use it three times a day would be to court destruction; +replicas, however, are scarcely less beautiful and can be replaced if +chipped. The silver is identical; the food is equally well prepared, +though a course or two is eliminated; the service is precisely the same. +The clothes that fashionable people wear every evening they are home +alone, are, if not the same, at least as beautiful of their kind. Young +Gilding's lounge suit is quite as "handsome" as his dinner clothes, and he +tubs and shaves and changes his linen when he puts it on. His wife wears a +tea gown, which is classified as a neglige rather in irony, since it is +apt to be more elaborate and gorgeous (to say nothing of dignified) than +half of the garments that masquerade these days as evening dresses! They +wear these informal clothes only if very intimate friends are coming to +dinner alone. "Alone" may include as many as eight!--but never includes a +stranger. + +[Illustration: A DINNER SERVICE WITHOUT SILVER--"THE LITTLE DINNER IS +THOUGHT BY MOST PEOPLE TO BE THE VERY PLEASANTEST SOCIAL FUNCTION THERE +IS." [Page 228.]] + +Otherwise, at informal dinners, the host wears a dinner coat and the +hostess a simple evening dress, or perhaps an elaborate one that has been +seen by everyone and which goes on at little dinners for the sake of +getting some "wear out of it." She never, however, receives formally +standing, though she rises when a guest comes into the room, shakes hands +and sits down again. When dinner is announced, gentlemen do not offer +their arms to the ladies. The hostess and the other ladies go into the +dining-room together, not in a procession, but just as they happen to +come. If one of them is much older than the others, the younger ones wait +for her to go ahead of them, or one who is much younger goes last. The men +stroll in the rear. The hostess on reaching the dining-room goes to her +own place where she stands and tells everyone where she or he is to sit. +"Mary, will you sit next to Jim, and Lucy on his other side; Kate, over +there, Bobo, next to me," etc. + + +=CARVING ON THE TABLE= + +Carving is sometimes seen at "home" dinner tables. A certain type of man +always likes to carve, and such a one does. But in forty-nine houses out +of fifty, in New York at least, the carving is done by the cook in the +kitchen--a roast while it is still in the roasting pan, and close to the +range at that, so that nothing can possibly get cooled off in the carving. +After which the pieces are carefully put together again, and transferred +to an intensely hot platter. This method has two advantages over table +carving; quicker service, and hotter food. Unless a change takes place in +the present fashion, none except cooks will know anything about carving, +which was once considered an art necessary to every gentleman. The boast +of the high-born Southerner, that he could carve a canvas-back holding it +on his fork, will be as unknown as the driving of a four-in-hand. + +Old-fashioned butlers sometimes carve in the pantry, but in the most +modern service all carving is done by the cook. Cold meats are, in the +English service, put whole on the sideboard and the family and guests cut +off what they choose themselves. In America cold meat is more often sliced +and laid on a platter garnished with finely chopped meat jelly and water +cress or parsley. + + +=THE "STAG" OR "BACHELOR" DINNER= + +A man's dinner is sometimes called a "stag" or a "bachelor" dinner; and as +its name implies, is a dinner given by a man and for men only. A man's +dinner is usually given to celebrate an occasion of welcome or farewell. +The best-known bachelor dinner is the one given by the groom just before +his wedding. Other dinners are more apt to be given by one man (or a group +of men) in honor of a noted citizen who has returned from a long absence, +or who is about to embark on an expedition or a foreign mission. Or a +young man may give a dinner in honor of a friend's twenty-first birthday; +or an older man may give a dinner merely because he has a quantity of game +which he has shot and wants to share with his especial friends. + +Nearly always a man's dinner is given at the host's club or his bachelor +quarters or in a private room in a hotel. But if a man chooses to give a +stag dinner in his own house, his wife (or his mother) should not appear. +For a wife to come downstairs and receive the guests for him, can not be +too strongly condemned as out of place. Such a maneuver on her part, +instead of impressing his guests with her own grace and beauty, is far +more likely to make them think what a "poor worm" her husband must be, to +allow himself to be hen-pecked. And for a mother to appear at a son's +dinner is, if anything, worse. An essential piece of advice to every woman +is: No matter how much you may want to say "How do you do" to your +husband's or your son's friends--_don't!_ + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DINNER GIVING WITH LIMITED EQUIPMENT + + +=THE SERVICE PROBLEM= + +People who live all the year in the country are not troubled with formal +dinner giving, because (excepting on great estates) formality and the +country do not go together. + +For the one or two formal dinners which the average city dweller feels +obliged to give every season, nothing is easier than to hire +professionals; it is also economical, since nothing is wasted in +experiment. A cook equal to the Gildings' chef can be had to come in and +cook your dinner at about the price of two charwomen; skilled butlers or +waitresses are to be had in all cities of any size at comparatively +reasonable fees. + +The real problem is in giving the innumerable casual and informal dinners +for which professionals are not only expensive, but inappropriate. The +problem of limited equipment would not present great difficulty if the +tendency of the age were toward a slower pace, but the opposite is the +case; no one wants to be kept waiting a second at table, and the world of +fashion is growing more impatient and critical instead of less. + +The service of a dinner can however be much simplified and shortened by +choosing dishes that do not require accessories. + + +=DISHES THAT HAVE ACCOMPANYING CONDIMENTS= + +Nothing so delays the service of a dinner as dishes that must immediately +be followed by necessary accessories. If there is no one to help the +butler or waitress, no dish must be included on the menu--unless you are +only one or two at table, or unless your guests are neither critical nor +"modern"--that is not complete in itself. + +For instance, fish has nearly always an accompanying dish. Broiled fish, +or fish meuniere, has ice-cold cucumbers sliced as thin as Saratoga chips, +with a very highly seasoned French dressing, or a mixture of cucumbers and +tomatoes. Boiled fish always has mousseline, Hollandaise, mushroom or egg +sauce, and round scooped boiled potatoes sprinkled with parsley. Fried +fish must always be accompanied by tartar sauce and pieces of lemon, and a +boiled fish even if covered with sauce when served, is usually followed by +additional sauce. + +Many meats have condiments. Roast beef is never served at a dinner +party--it is a family dish and generally has Yorkshire pudding or roast +potatoes on the platter with the roast itself, and is followed by pickles +or spiced fruit. + +Turkey likewise, with its chestnut stuffing and accompanying cranberry +sauce, is not a "company" dish, though excellent for an informal dinner. +Saddle of mutton is a typical company dish--all mutton has currant jelly. +Lamb has mint sauce--or mint jelly. + +Partridge or guinea hen must have two sauce boats--presented on one +tray--browned bread-crumbs in one, and cream sauce in the other. + +Apple sauce goes with barnyard duck. + +The best accompaniment to wild duck is the precisely timed 18 minutes in a +quick oven! And celery salad, which goes with all game, need not be +especially hurried. + +Salad is always the accompaniment of "tame game," aspics, cold meat dishes +of all sorts, and is itself "accompanied by" crackers and cheese or cheese +souffle or cheese straws. + + +=SPECIAL MENUS OF UNACCOMPANIED DISHES= + +One person can wait on eight people if dishes are chosen which need no +supplements. The fewer the dishes to be passed, the fewer the hands needed +to pass them. And yet many housekeepers thoughtlessly order dishes within +the list above, and then wonder why the dinner is so hopelessly slow, when +their waitress is usually so good! + +The following suggestions are merely offered in illustration; each +housekeeper can easily devise further for herself. It is not necessary to +pass anything whatever with melon or grapefruit, or a macedoine of fruit, +or a canape. Oysters, on the other hand, have to be followed by tabasco +and buttered brown bread. Soup needs nothing with it (if you do not choose +split pea which needs croutons, or petite marmite which needs grated +cheese). Fish dishes which are "made" with sauce in the dish, such as sole +au vin blanc, lobster Newburg, crab ravigote, fish mousse, especially if +in a ring filled with plenty of sauce, do not need anything more. Tartar +sauce for fried fish can be put in baskets made of hollowed-out lemon +rind--a basket for each person--and used as a garnishing around the dish. + +Filet mignon, or fillet of beef, both of them surrounded by little clumps +of vegetables share with chicken casserole in being the life-savers of the +hostess who has one waitress in her dining-room. Another dish, but more +appropriate to lunch than to dinner, is of French chops banked against +mashed potatoes, or puree of chestnuts, and surrounded by string beans or +peas. None of these dishes requires any following dish whatever, not even +a vegetable. + +Fried chicken with corn fritters on the platter is almost as good as the +two beef dishes, since the one green vegetable which should go with it, +can be served leisurely, because fried chicken is not quickly eaten. And a +ring of aspic with salad in the center does not require accompanying +crackers as immediately as plain lettuce. + +Steak and broiled chicken are fairly practical since neither needs gravy, +condiment, or sauce--especially if you have a divided vegetable dish so +that two vegetables can be passed at the same time. + +If a hostess chooses not necessarily the above dishes but others which +approximately take their places, she need have no fear of a slow dinner, +if her one butler or waitress is at all competent. + + +=THE POSSIBILITIES OF THE PLAIN COOK= + +In giving informal or little dinners, you need never worry because you +cannot set the dishes of a "professional" dinner-party cook before your +friends or even strangers; so long as the food that you are offering is +good of its kind. + +It is by no means necessary that your cook should be able to make the +"clear" soup that is one of the tests of the perfect cook (and practically +never produced by any other); nor is it necessary that she be able to +construct comestible mosaics and sculptures. The essential thing is to +prevent her from attempting anything she can't do well. If she can make +certain dishes that are pretty as well as good to taste, so much the +better. But remember, the more pretentious a dish is, the more it +challenges criticism. + +If your cook can make neither clear nor cream soup, but can make a +delicious clam chowder, better far to have a clam chowder! On no account +let her attempt clear green turtle, which has about as good a chance to be +perfect as a supreme of boned capon--in other words, none whatsoever! And +the same way throughout dinner. Whichever dishes your own particular Nora +or Selma or Marie can do best, those are the ones you must have for your +dinners. Another thing: it is not important to have variety. Because you +gave the Normans chicken casserole the last time they dined with you is no +reason why you should not give it to them again--if that is the "specialty +of the house" as the French say. A late, and greatly loved, hostess whose +Sunday luncheons at a huge country house just outside of Washington were +for years one of the outstanding features of Washington's smartest +society, had the same lunch exactly, week after week, year after year. +Those who went to her house knew just as well what the dishes would be as +they did where the dining-room was situated. At her few enormous and +formal dinners in town, her cook was allowed to be magnificently +architectural, but if you dined with her alone, the chances were ten to +one that the Sunday chicken and pancakes would appear before you. + + +=DO NOT EXPERIMENT FOR STRANGERS= + +Typical dinner-party dishes are invariably the temptation no less than the +downfall of ambitious ignorance. Never let an inexperienced cook _attempt +a new dish_ for company, no matter how attractive her description of it +may sound. Try it yourself, or when you are having family or most intimate +friends who will understand if it turns out all wrong that it is a "trial" +dish. In fact, it is a very good idea to share the testing of it with some +one who can help you in suggestions, if they are needed for its +improvement. Or supposing you have a cook who is rather poor on all dinner +dishes, but makes delicious bread and cake and waffles and oyster stew and +creamed chicken, or even hash! You can make a specialty of asking people +to "supper." Suppers are necessarily informal, but there is no objection +in that. Formal parties play a very small role anyway compared to informal +ones. There are no end of people, and the smartest ones at that, who +entertain only in the most informal possible way. Mrs. Oldname gives at +most two formal dinners a year; her typical dinners and suppers are for +eight. + + +=PROPER DISHING= + +The "dishing" is quite as important as the cooking; a smear or thumb-mark +on the edge of a dish is like a spot on the front of a dress! + +Water must not be allowed to collect at the bottom of a dish (that is why +a folded napkin is always put under boiled fish and sometimes under +asparagus). And dishes must be hot; they cannot be too hot! Meat juice +that has started to crust is nauseating. Far better have food too hot to +eat and let people take their time eating it than that others should +suffer the disgust of cold victuals! Sending in cold food is one of the +worst faults (next to not knowing how to cook) that a cook can have. + + +=PROFESSIONAL OR HOME DINING ROOM SERVICE= + +Just as it is better to hire a professional dinner-party cook than to run +the risk of attempting a formal dinner with your own Nora or Selma unless +you are very sure she is adequate, in the same way it is better to have a +professional waitress as captain over your own, or a professional butler +over your own inexperienced one, than to have your meal served in spasms +and long pauses. But if your waitress, assisted by the chambermaid, +perfectly waits on six, you will find that they can very nicely manage +ten, even with accompanied dishes. + + +=BLUNDERS IN SERVICE= + +If an inexperienced servant blunders, you should pretend, if you can, not +to know it. Never attract anyone's attention to anything by apologizing or +explaining, unless the accident happens to a guest. Under ordinary +circumstances "least said, soonest mended" is the best policy. If a +servant blunders, it makes the situation much worse to take her to task, +the cause being usually that she is nervous or ignorant. Speak, if it is +necessary to direct her, very gently and as kindly as possible; your +object being to restore confidence, not to increase the disorder. Beckon +her to you and tell her as you might tell a child you were teaching: "Give +Mrs. Smith a tablespoon, not a teaspoon." Or, "You have forgotten the fork +on that dish." Never let her feel that you think her stupid, but encourage +her as much as possible and when she does anything especially well, tell +her so. + + +=THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF PRAISE= + +Nearly all people are quick to censure but rather chary of praise. +Admonish of course where you must, but censure only with justice, and +don't forget that whether of high estate or humble, we all of us like +praise--sometimes. When a guest tells you your dinner is the best he has +ever eaten, remember that the cook cooked it, and tell her it was praised. +Or if the dining-room service was silent and quick and perfect, then tell +those who served it how well it was done. If you are entertaining all the +time, you need not commend your household after every dinner you give, but +if any especial willingness, attentiveness, or tact is shown, don't forget +that a little praise is not only merest justice but is beyond the purse of +no one. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LUNCHEONS, BREAKFASTS AND SUPPERS + + +=THE INVITATIONS= + +Although the engraved card is occasionally used for an elaborate luncheon, +especially for one given in honor of a noted person, formal invitations to +lunch in very fashionable houses are nearly always written in the first +person, and rarely sent out more than a week in advance. For instance: + + Dear Mrs. Kindhart (or Martha): + + Will you lunch with me on Monday the tenth at half after one + o'clock? + + Hoping so much to see you, + + Sincerely (or affectionately), + Jane Toplofty. + +If the above lunch were given in honor of somebody--Mrs. Eminent, for +instance--the phrase "to meet Mrs. Eminent" would have been added +immediately after the word "o'clock." At a very large luncheon for which +the engraved card might be used, "To meet Mrs. Eminent" would be written +across the top of the card of invitation. + +Informal invitations are telephoned nearly always. + +Invitation to a stand-up luncheon (or breakfast; it is breakfast if the +hour is twelve or half after, and lunch if at one, or one-thirty), is +either telephoned or written on an ordinary visiting card: + + [HW: Sat. Oct. 2. + Luncheon at 1 o'clock] + + Mr. and Mrs. Gilding + + GOLDEN HALL + +If R.s.v.p. is added in the lower corner, the invitation should be +answered, otherwise the hostess is obliged to guess how many to provide +for. + +Or, if the hostess prefers, a personal note is always courteous: + + Dear Mrs. Neighbor: + + We are having a stand-up luncheon on Saturday, October Second, at + one o'clock, and hope that you and your husband and any guests + who may be staying with you will come, + + Very sincerely yours, + + Alice Toplofty Gilding. + Golden Hall + Sept. 27. + + +A personal note always exacts a reply--which may however be telephoned, +unless the invitation was worded in the formal third person. A written +answer is more polite, if the hostess is somewhat of a stranger to you. + + +=THE FORMAL LUNCHEON OF TO-DAY= + +Luncheon, being a daylight function, is never so formidable as a dinner, +even though it may be every bit as formal and differ from the latter in +minor details only. Luncheons are generally given by, and for, ladies, +but it is not unusual, especially in summer places or in town on Saturday +or Sunday, to include an equal number of gentlemen. + +But no matter how large or formal a luncheon may be, there is rarely a +chauffeur on the sidewalk, or a carpet or an awning. The hostess, instead +of receiving at the door, sits usually in the center of the room in some +place that has an unobstructed approach from the door. Each guest coming +into the room is preceded by the butler to within a short speaking +distance of the hostess, where he announces the new arrival's name, and +then stands aside. Where there is a waitress instead of a butler, guests +greet the hostess unannounced. The hostess rises, or if standing takes a +step forward, shakes hands, says "I'm so glad to see you," or "I am +delighted to see you," or "How do you do!" She then waits for a second or +two to see if the guest who has just come in speaks to anyone; if not, she +makes the necessary introduction. + +When the butler or waitress has "counted heads" and knows the guests have +arrived, he or she enters the room, bows to the hostess and says, +"Luncheon is served." + +If there is a guest of honor, the hostess leads the way to the +dining-room, walking beside her. Otherwise, the guests go in twos or +threes, or even singly, just as they happen to come, except that the very +young make way for their elders, and gentlemen stroll in with those they +happen to be talking to, or, if alone, fill in the rear. The gentlemen +_never_ offer their arms to ladies in going in to a luncheon--unless there +should be an elderly guest of honor, who might be taken in by the host, as +at a dinner. But the others follow informally. + + +=THE TABLE= + +Candles have no place on a lunch or breakfast table; and are used only +where a dining-room is unfortunately without daylight. Also a plain damask +tablecloth (which must always be put on top of a thick table felt) is +correct for dinner but not for luncheon. The traditional lunch table is +"bare"--which does not mean actually bare at all, but that it has a +centerpiece, either round or rectangular or square, with place mats to +match, made in literally unrestricted varieties of linen, needlework and +lace. The centerpiece is anywhere from 30 inches to a yard and a half +square, on a square or round table, and from half a yard to a yard wide by +length in proportion to the length of a rectangular table. The place mats +are round or square or rectangular to match, and are put at the places. + +Or if the table is a refectory one, instead of centerpiece and doilies, +the table is set with a runner not reaching to the edge at the side, but +falling over both ends. Or there may be a tablecloth made to fit the top +of the table to within an inch or two of its edge. Occasionally there is a +real cloth that hangs over like a dinner cloth, but it always has lace or +open-work and is made of fine linen so that the table shows through. + +The decorations of the table are practically the same as for dinner: +flowers, or a silver ornament or epergne in the center, and flower dishes +or compotiers or patens filled with ornamental fruit or candy at the +corners. If the table is very large and rather bare without candles, four +vases or silver bowls of flowers, or ornamental figures are added. + +If the center ornament is of porcelain, four porcelain figures to match +have at least a logical reason for their presence, or a bisque "garden" +set of vases and balustrades, with small flowers and vines put in the +vases to look as though they were growing, follows out the decoration. +Most people, however, like a sparsely ornamented table. + +The places are set as for dinner, with a place plate, three forks, two +knives and a small spoon. The lunch napkin, which should match the table +linen, is much smaller than the dinner napkin, and is not folded quite the +same: it is folded like a handkerchief, in only four folds (four +thicknesses). The square is laid on the place plate diagonally, with the +monogrammed (or embroidered) corner pointing down toward the edge of the +table. The upper corner is then turned sharply under in a flat crease for +about a quarter of its diagonal length; then the two sides are rolled +loosely under, making a sort of pillow effect laid sideways; with a +straight top edge and a pointed lower edge, and the monogram displayed in +the center. + +Another feature of luncheon service, which is always omitted at dinner, is +the bread and butter plate. + + +_The Bread and Butter Plate_ + +The butter plate has been entirely dispossessed by the bread and butter +plate, which is part of the luncheon service always--as well as of +breakfast and supper. It is a very small plate about five and a half to +six and a half inches in diameter, and is put at the left side of each +place just beyond the forks. Butter is sometimes put on the plate by the +servant (as in a restaurant) but usually it is passed. Hot breads are an +important feature of every luncheon; hot crescents, soda biscuits, bread +biscuits, dinner rolls, or corn bread, the latter baked in small pans like +pie plates four inches in diameter. Very thin bread that is roasted in the +oven until it is curled and light brown (exactly like a large Saratoga +chip), is often made for those who don't eat butter, and is also suitable +for dinner. This "double-baked" bread, toast, and one or two of the above +varieties, are all put in an old-fashioned silver cake-basket, or actual +basket of wicker, and passed as often as necessary. Butter is also passed +(or helped) throughout the meal until the table is cleared for dessert. +Bread and butter plates are always removed with the salt and pepper pots. + + +=THE SERVICE OF LUNCHEON= + +The service is identical with that of dinner. Carving is done in the +kitchen and no food set on the table except ornamental dishes of fruit, +candy and nuts. The plate service is also the same as at dinner. The +places are never left plateless, excepting after salad, when the table is +cleared and crumbed for dessert. The dessert plates and finger bowls are +arranged as for dinner. Flowers are usually put in the finger bowls, a +little spray of any sweet-scented flower, but "corsage bouquets" laid at +the places with flower pins complete are in very bad taste. + + +=THE LUNCHEON MENU= + +Five courses at most (not counting the passing of a dish of candy or +after-dinner coffee as a course), or more usually four actual courses, are +thought sufficient in the smartest houses. Not even at the Worldlys' or +the Gildings' will you ever see a longer menu than: + + 1. Fruit, or soup in cups + 2. Eggs + 3. Meat and vegetables + 4. Salad + 5. Dessert + +or + + 1. Fruit + 2. Soup + 3. Meat and vegetables + 4. Salad + 5. Dessert + +or + + 1. Fruit + 2. Soup + 3. Eggs + 4. Fowl or "tame" game with salad + 5. Dessert + +An informal lunch menu is seldom more than four courses and would +eliminate either No. 1 or No. 2 or No. 5. + +The most popular fruit course is a macedoine or mixture of fresh orange, +grape fruit, malaga grapes, banana, and perhaps a peach or a little +pineapple; in fact, any sort of fruit cut into very small pieces, with +sugar and maraschino, or rum, for flavor--or nothing but sugar--served in +special bowl-shaped glasses that fit into long-stemmed and much larger +ones, with a space for crushed ice between; or it can just as well be put +in champagne or any bowl-shaped glasses, after being kept as cold as +possible in the ice-box until sent to the table. + +If the first course is grape fruit, it is cut across in half, the sections +cut free and all dividing skin and seeds taken out with a sharp vegetable +knife, and sugar put in it and left standing for an hour or so. A slice +of melon is served plain. + +Soup at luncheon, or at a wedding breakfast or a ball supper, is never +served in soup plates, but in two-handled cups, and is eaten with a +teaspoon or a bouillon spoon. It is limited to a few varieties: either +chicken, or clam broth, with a spoonful of whipped cream on top; or +bouillon, or green turtle, or strained chicken, or tomato broth; or in +summer, cold bouillon or broth. + +Lunch party egg dishes must number a hundred varieties. (See any cook +book!) Eggs that are substantial and "rich," such as eggs Benedict, or +stuffed with pate de foie gras and a mushroom sauce, should then be +"balanced" by a simple meat, such as broiled chicken and salad, combining +meat and salad courses in one. On the other hand, should you have a light +egg course, like "eggs surprise," you could have meat and vegetables, and +plain salad; or an elaborate salad and no dessert. Or with fruit and soup, +omit eggs, especially if there is to be an aspic with salad. + +The menu of an informal luncheon, if it does not leave out a course, at +least chooses simpler dishes. A bouillon or broth, shirred eggs or an +omelette; or scrambled eggs on toast which has first been spread with a +pate or meat puree; then chicken or a chop with vegetables, a salad of +plain lettuce with crackers and cheese, and a pudding or pie or any other +"family" dessert. Or broiled chicken, chicken croquettes, or an aspic, is +served with the salad in very hot weather. While cold food is both +appropriate and palatable, no meal should ever be chosen without at least +one course of hot food. Many people dislike cold food, and it disagrees +with others, but if you offer your guests soup, or even tea or chocolate, +it would then do to have the rest of the meal cold. + + +=LUNCHEON BEVERAGES= + +It is an American custom--especially in communities where the five o'clock +tea habit is neither so strong nor so universal as in New York, for the +lady of a house to have the tea set put before her at the table, not only +when alone, but when having friends lunching informally with her, and to +pour tea, coffee, or chocolate. And there is certainly not the slightest +reason why, if she is used to these beverages and would feel their +omission, she should not "pour out" what she chooses. In fact, although +tea is never served hot at formal New York luncheons, iced tea is +customary in all country houses in summer; and chocolate, not poured by +the hostess, but brought in from the pantry and put down at the right of +each plate, is by no means unusual at informal lunch parties. + +Iced tea at lunch in summer is poured at the table by a servant from a +glass pitcher, and is prepared like a "cup" with lemon and sugar, and +sometimes with cut up fresh fruit and a little squeezed fruit juice. Plain +cold tea may be passed in glasses, and lemon and sugar separately. At an +informal luncheon, cold coffee, instead of tea, is passed around in a +glass pitcher, on a tray that also holds a bowl of powdered sugar and a +pitcher of cold milk, and another of as thick as possible cream. The +guests pour their coffee to suit themselves into tall glasses half full of +broken ice, and furnished with very long-handled spoons. + +If tea or coffee or chocolate are not served during the meal, there is +always a cup of some sort: grape or orange juice (in these days) with +sugar and mint leaves, and ginger ale or carbonic water. + +If dessert is a hot pudding or pastry, the "hotel service" of dessert +plates should be used. The glass plate is particularly suitable for ice +cream or any cold dessert, but is apt to crack if intensely hot food is +put on it. + + +=DETAILS OF ETIQUETTE AT LUNCHEONS= + +Gentlemen leave their coats, hats, sticks, in the hall; ladies leave heavy +outer wraps in the hall, or dressing-room, but always go into the +drawing-room with their hats and gloves on. They wear their fur neck +pieces and carry their muffs in their hands, if they choose, or they leave +them in the hall or dressing-room. But fashionable ladies _never_ take off +their hats. Even the hostess herself almost invariably wears a hat at a +formal luncheon in her own house, though there is no reason why she +should not be hatless if she prefers, or if she thinks she is prettier +without! Guests, however, do not take off their hats at a lunch party even +in the country. They take off their gloves at the table, or sooner if they +choose, and either remove or turn up, their veils. The hostess does not +wear gloves, ever. It is also very unsuitable for a hostess to wear a face +veil in her own house, unless there is something the matter with her face, +that must not be subjected to view! A hostess in a veil does not give her +guests the impression of "veiled beauty," but the contrary. Guests, on the +other hand, may with perfect fitness keep their veils on throughout the +meal, merely fastening the lower edge up over their noses. They must _not_ +allow a veil to hang loose, and carry food under and behind it, nor must +they eat with gloves on. A veil kept persistently over the face, and +gloves kept persistently over the hands, means one thing: Ugliness behind. +So unless you have to--don't! + +The wearing of elaborate dresses at luncheons has gone entirely out of +fashion; and yet one does once in a while see an occasional lady--rarely a +New Yorker--who outshines a bird of paradise and a jeweler's window; but +New York women of distinction wear rather simple clothes--simple meaning +untrimmed, not inexpensive. Very conspicuous clothes are chosen either by +the new rich, to assure themselves of their own elegance--which is utterly +lacking--or by the muttons dressed lamb-fashion, to assure themselves of +their own youth--which alas, is gone! + +Gentlemen at luncheon in town on a Sunday wear cutaway coats; in other +words, what they wear to church. On a Saturday, they wear their business +suits, sack coat with either stiff or pleated-bosom shirts, and a starched +collar. In the country, they wear country clothes. + +[Illustration: "AT AN INFORMAL DINNER THE TABLE APPOINTMENTS ARE EQUALLY +FINE AND BEAUTIFUL, THOUGH POSSIBLY NOT QUITE SO RARE." [Page 228.]] + + +=WHAT THE SERVANTS WEAR= + +A butler wears his "morning" clothes; cutaway coat, gray striped trousers, +high black waistcoat, black tie. A "hired waiter" wears a dress suit, but +never a butler in a "smart" house; he does not put on his evening clothes +until after six o'clock. In a smart house, the footmen wear their dress +liveries, and a waitress and other maids wear their best uniforms. + + +=THE GUESTS LEAVE= + +The usual lunch hour is half past one. By a quarter to three the last +guest is invariably gone, unless, of course, it is a bridge luncheon, or +for some other reason they are staying longer. From half an hour to +three-quarters at the table, and from twenty minutes to half an hour's +conversation afterwards, means that by half past two (if lunch was prompt) +guests begin leaving. Once in a while, especially at a mixed lunch where +perhaps talented people are persuaded to become "entertainers" the +audience stays on for hours! But such parties are so out of the usual that +they have nothing to do with the ordinary procedure, which is to leave +about twenty minutes after the end of the meal. + +The details for leaving are also the same as for dinners. One lady rises +and says good-by, the hostess rises and shakes hands and rings a bell (if +necessary) for the servant to be in the hall to open the door. When one +guest gets up to go, the others invariably follow. They say "Good-by" and +"Thank you so much." + +Or, at a little luncheon, intimate friends often stay on indefinitely; but +when lunching with an acquaintance one should never stay a moment longer +than the other guests. The guest who sits on and on, unless earnestly +pressed to do so, is wanting in tact and social sense. If a hostess +invites a stranger who might by any chance prove a barnacle, she can +provide for the contingency by instructing her butler or waitress to tell +her when her car is at the door. She then says: "I had to have the car +announced, because I have an appointment at the doctor's. Do wait while I +put on my things--I shall be only a moment! And I can take you wherever +you want to go!" This expedient should not be used when a hostess has +leisure to sit at home, but on the other hand, a guest should never create +an awkward situation for her hostess by staying too long. + +In the country where people live miles apart, they naturally stay somewhat +longer than in town. + +Or two or three intimate friends who perhaps (especially in the country) +come to spend the day, are not bound by rules of etiquette but by the +rules of their own and their hostess' personal preference. They take off +their hats or not as they choose, and they bring their sewing or knitting +and sit all day, or they go out and play games, and in other ways behave +as house-guests rather than visitors at luncheon. The only rule about such +an informal gathering as this is, that no one should ever go and spend the +day and make herself at home unless she is in the house of a really very +intimate friend or relative, or unless she has been especially and +specifically invited to do that very thing. + + +=THE STAND-UP LUNCHEON= + +This is nothing more nor less than a buffet lunch. It is popular because +it is a very informal and jolly sort of party--an indoor picnic +really--and never attempted except among people who know each other well. + +The food is all put on the dining table and every one helps himself. There +is always bouillon or oyster stew or clam chowder. The most "informal" +dishes are suitable for this sort of a meal, as for a picnic. There are +two hot dishes and a salad, and a dessert which may be, but seldom is, ice +cream. + +Stand-up luncheons are very practical for hostesses who have medium sized +houses, or when an elastic number of guests are expected at the time of a +ball game, or other event that congregates a great many people. + +A hunt breakfast is usually a stand-up luncheon. It is a "breakfast" by +courtesy of half an hour in time. At twelve-thirty it is breakfast, at one +o'clock it is lunch. + +Regular weekly stand-up luncheons are given by hospitable people who have +big places in the country and encourage their friends to drive over on +some especial day when they are "at home"--Saturdays or Sundays +generally--and intimate friends drop in uninvited, but always prepared +for. On such occasions, luncheon is made a little more comfortable by +providing innumerable individual tables to which people can carry the +plates, glasses or cups and sit down in comfort. + + +=SUPPERS= + +Supper is the most intimate meal there is, and since none but family or +closest friends are ever included, invitations are invariably by word of +mouth. + +The atmosphere of a luncheon is often formal, but informal luncheons and +suppers differ in nothing except day and evening lights, and clothes. +Strangers are occasionally invited to informal luncheons, but only +intimate friends are bidden to supper. + + +=THE SUPPER TABLE= + +The table is set, as to places and napery, exactly like the lunch table, +with the addition of candlesticks or candelabra as at dinner. Where supper +differs from the usual lunch table is that in front of the hostess is a +big silver tea-tray with full silver service for tea or cocoa or chocolate +or breakfast coffee, most often chocolate or cocoa and either tea or +coffee. At the host's end of the table there is perhaps a chafing +dish--that is, if the host fancies himself a cook! + +A number of people whose establishments are not very large, have very +informal Sunday night suppers on their servants' Sundays out, and forage +for themselves. The table is left set, a cold dish of something and salad +are left in the icebox; the ingredients for one or two chafing dish +specialties are also left ready. At supper time a member of the family, +and possibly an intimate friend or two, carry the dishes to the table and +make hot toast on a toaster. + +This kind of supper is, in fact as well as spirit, an indoor picnic; +thought to be the greatest fun by the Kindharts, but little appreciated by +the Gildings, which brings it down, with so many other social customs, to +a mere matter of personal taste. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BALLS AND DANCES + + +A ball is the only social function in America to which such qualifying +words as splendor and magnificence can with proper modesty of expression +be applied. Even the most elaborate wedding is not quite "a scene of +splendor and magnificence" no matter how luxurious the decorations or how +costly the dress of the bride and bridesmaids, because the majority of the +wedding guests do not complete the picture. A dinner may be lavish, a +dance may be beautiful, but a ball alone is prodigal, meaning, of course, +a private ball of greatest importance. + +On rare occasions, a great ball is given in a private house, but since few +houses are big enough to provide dancing space for several hundred and +sit-down supper space for a greater number still, besides smoking-room, +dressing-room and sitting-about space, it would seem logical to describe a +typical ball as taking place in the ballroom suite built for the purpose +in nearly all hotels. + + +=A HOSTESS PREPARES TO GIVE A BALL= + +The hostess who is not giving the ball in her own house goes first of all +to see the manager of the hotel (or of whatever suitable assembly rooms +there may be) and finds out which evenings are available. She then +telephones--probably from the manager's office--and engages the two best +orchestras for whichever evening both the orchestras and the ballroom are +at her disposal. Of the two, music is of more importance than rooms. With +perfect music the success of a ball is more than three-quarters assured; +without it, the most beautiful decorations and most delicious supper are +as flat as a fallen souffle. You cannot give a ball or a dance that is +anything but a dull promenade if you have dull music. + +To illustrate the importance that prominent hostesses attach to music: a +certain orchestra in New York to-day is forced to dash almost daily, not +alone from party to party, but from city to city. Time and again its +leader has conducted the music at a noon wedding in Philadelphia, and a +ball in Boston; or a dancing tea in Providence and a ball that evening in +New York; because Boston, Providence, New York and Philadelphia hostesses +all at the present moment clamor for this one especial orchestra. The men +have a little more respite than the leader since it is his "leading" that +every one insists upon. Tomorrow another orchestra will probably make the +daily tour of various cities' ballrooms. + +At all balls, there must be two orchestras, so that each time one finishes +playing the other begins. At very dignified private balls, dancers should +not stand in the middle of the floor and clap as they do in a dance hall +or cabaret if the music ends. On the other hand, the music should not end. + +Having secured the music and engaged the ballroom, reception rooms, +dressing-rooms and smoking-room, as well as the main restaurant (after it +is closed to the public), the hostess next makes out her list and orders +and sends out her invitations. + + +=INVITATIONS= + +The fundamental difference between a ball and a dance is that people of +all ages are asked to a ball, while only those of approximately one age +are asked to a dance. Once in a while a ball is given to which the hostess +invites every person on her visiting list. Mr. and Mrs. Titherington de +Puyster give one every season, which although a credit to their intentions +is seldom a credit to their sense of beauty! + +Snobbish as it sounds and _is_, a brilliant ball is necessarily a +collection of brilliantly fashionable people, and the hostess who gathers +in all the oddly assorted frumps on the outskirts of society cannot expect +to achieve a very distinguished result. + +Ball invitations properly include all of the personal friends of the +hostess no matter what their age, and all her better-known social +acquaintances--meaning every one she would be likely to invite to a formal +dinner. She does not usually invite a lady with whom she may work on a +charitable committee, even though she may know her well, and like her. The +question as to whether an outsider may be invited is not a matter of a +hostess' own inclination so much as a question whether the "outsider" +would be agreeable to all the "insiders" who are coming. If the co-worker +is in everything a lady and a fitting ornament to society, the hostess +might very possibly ask her. + +If the ball to be given is for a debutante, all the debutantes whose +mothers are on the "general visiting list" are asked as well as all young +dancing men in these same families. In other words the children of all +those whose names are on the general visiting list of a hostess are +selected to receive invitations, but the parents on whose standing the +daughters and sons are asked, are rarely invited. + + +_When a List is Borrowed_ + +A lady who has a debutante daughter, but who has not given any general +parties for years--or ever, and whose daughter, having been away at +boarding-school or abroad, has therefore very few acquaintances of her +own, must necessarily in sending out invitations to a ball take the list +of young girls and men from a friend or a member of her family. This of +course could only be done by a hostess whose position is unquestioned, but +having had no occasion to keep a young people's list, she has not the +least idea who the young people of the moment are, and takes a short-cut +as above. Otherwise she would send invitations to children of ten and +spinsters of forty, trusting to their being of suitable age. + +To take a family or intimate friend's list is also important to the +unaccustomed hostess, because to leave out any of the younger set who +"belong" in the groups which are included, is not the way to make a party +a success. Those who don't find their friends go home, or stay and are +bored, and the whole party sags in consequence. So that if a hostess +knows the parents personally of, let us say, eighty per cent. of young +society, she can quite properly include the twenty per cent. she does not +know, so that the hundred per cent. can come together. In a small +community it is rather cruel to leave out any of the young people whose +friends are all invited. In a very great city on the other hand, an +habitual hostess does not ask any to her house whom she does not know, but +she can of course be as generous as she chooses in allowing young people +to have invitations for friends. + + +_Asking for an Invitation to a Ball_ + +It is always permissible to ask a hostess if you may "bring" a dancing man +who is a stranger to her. It is rather difficult to ask for an invitation +for an extra girl, and still more difficult to ask for older people, +because the hostess has no ground on which she can refuse without being +rude; she can't say there is no room since no dance is really limited, and +least of all a ball. Men who dance are always an asset, and the more the +better; but a strange young girl hung around the neck of the hostess is +about as welcome as a fog at a garden party. If the girl is to be brought +and "looked after" by the lady asking for the invitation--who has herself +been already invited--that is another matter, and the hostess can not well +object. Or if the young girl is the fiancee of the man whose mother asks +for the invitation, that is all right too; since he will undoubtedly come +with her and see that she is not left alone. Invitations for older people +are never asked for unless they are rather distinguished strangers and +unquestionably suitable. + +Invitations are never asked for persons whom the hostess already knows, +since if she had cared to invite them she would have done so. It is, +however, not at all out of the way for an intimate friend to remind her of +some one who in receiving no invitation has more than likely been +overlooked. If the omission was intentional, nothing need be said; if it +was an oversight, the hostess is very glad to repair her forgetfulness. + + +_Invitations for Strangers_ + +An invitation that has been asked for a stranger is sent direct and +without comment. For instance, when the Greatlakes of Chicago came to New +York for a few weeks, Mrs. Norman asked both Mrs. Worldly and Mrs. Gilding +to send them invitations; one to a musicale and the other to a ball. The +Greatlakes received these invitations without Mrs. Norman's card enclosed +or any other word of explanation, as it was taken for granted that Mrs. +Norman would tell the Greatlakes that it was through her that the +invitations were sent. The Greatlakes said "Thank you very much for asking +us" when they bid their hostess good night, and they also left their cards +immediately on the Worldlys and Gildings after the parties--but it was +also the duty of Mrs. Norman to thank both hostesses--verbally--for +sending the invitations. + + +=DECORATIONS= + +So far as good taste is concerned, the decorations for a ball cannot be +too lavish or beautiful. To be sure they should not be lavish if one's +purse is limited, but if one's purse is really limited, one should not +give a ball! A small dance or a dancing tea would be more suitable. + +Ball decorations have on occasions been literally astounding, but as a +rule no elaboration is undertaken other than hanging greens and flowers +over the edge of the gallery, if there is a gallery, banking palms in +corners, and putting up sheaves of flowers or trailing vines wherever most +effective. In any event the hostess consults her florist, but if the +decorations are to be very important, an architect or an artist is put in +charge, with a florist under him. + + +=THE BALL BEAUTIFUL= + +Certain sounds, perfumes, places, always bring associated pictures to +mind: Restaurant suppers; Paris! Distinguished-looking audiences; London! +The essence of charm in society; Rome! Beguiling and informal joyousness; +San Francisco! Recklessness; Colorado Springs! The afternoon visit; +Washington! Hectic and splendid gaiety; New York! Beautiful balls; Boston! + +There are three reasons (probably more) why the balls in Boston have what +can be described only by the word "quality." The word "elegance" before it +was misused out of existence expressed it even better. + +First: Best Society in Boston having kept its social walls intact, +granting admission only to those of birth and breeding, has therefore +preserved a quality of unmistakable cultivation. There are undoubtedly +other cities, especially in the South, which have also kept their walls up +and their traditions intact--but Boston has been the wise virgin as well, +and has kept her lamp filled. + +Second: Boston hostesses of position have never failed to demand of those +who would remain on their lists, strict obedience to the tenets of +ceremonies and dignified behavior; nor ceased themselves to cultivate +something of the "grand manner" that should be the birthright of every +thoroughbred lady and gentleman. + +Third: Boston's older ladies and gentlemen always dance at balls, and they +neither rock around the floor, nor take their dancing violently. And the +fact that older ladies of distinction dance with dignity, has an +inevitable effect upon younger ones, so that at balls at least, dancing +has not degenerated into gymnastics or contortions. + +The extreme reverse of a "smart" Boston ball is one--no matter +where--which has a roomful of people who deport themselves abominably, who +greet each other by waving their arms aloft, who dance like Apaches or +jiggling music-box figures, and who scarcely suggest an assemblage of even +decent--let alone well-bred--people. + + +=SUPPER= + +A sit-down supper that is served continuously for two or three hours, is +the most elaborate ball supper. Next in importance is the sit-down supper +at a set time. Third, the buffet supper which is served at dances but not +at balls. + +At the most fashionable New York balls, supper service begins at one and +continues until three and people go when they feel like it. The +restaurant is closed to the public at one o'clock; the entrance is then +curtained or shut off from the rest of the hotel. The tables are decorated +with flowers and the supper service opened for the ball guests. Guests sit +where they please, either "making up a table," or a man and his partner +finding a place wherever there are two vacant chairs. At a private ball +guests do not pay for anything or sign supper checks, or tip the waiter, +since the restaurant is for the time being the private dining-room of the +host and hostess. + +At a sit-down supper at a set hour, the choice of menu is unlimited, but +suppers are never as elaborate now as they used to be. Years ago few balls +were given without terrapin, and a supper without champagne was as unheard +of. In fact, champagne was the heaviest item of expenditure always. +Decorations might be very limited, but champagne was as essential as +music! Cotillion favors were also an important item which no longer +exists; and champagne has gone its way with nectar, to the land of fable, +so that if you eliminate elaborate decorations, ball-giving is not half +the expense it used to be. + + +=FOR A SIT-DOWN SUPPER THAT IS CONTINUOUS= + +When the service of supper continues for several hours, it is necessary to +select food that can be kept hot indefinitely without being spoiled. Birds +or broiled chicken, which should be eaten the moment they are cooked, are +therefore unsuitable. Dishes prepared in sauce keep best, such as lobster +Newburg, sweetbreads and mushrooms, chicken a la King, or creamed oysters. +Pates are satisfactory as the shells can be heated in a moment and hot +creamed chicken or oysters poured in. Of course all cold dishes and salads +can stand in the pantry or on a buffet table all evening. + +The menu for supper at a ball is entirely a matter of the hostess' +selection, but whether it is served at one time or continuously, the +supper menu at an important ball includes: + +1. Bouillon or green turtle (clear) in cups. + +2. Lobster a la Newburg (or terrapin or oyster pate or another hot dish of +shell-fish or fowl). + +3. A second choice hot dish of some sort, squab, chicken and peas (if +supper is served at a special hour) or croquettes and peas if continuous. + +4. Salad, which includes every variety known, with or without an aspic. + +5. Individual ices, fancy cakes. + +6. Black coffee in little cups. + +Breakfast served at about four in the morning and consisting of scrambled +eggs with sausages or bacon and breakfast coffee and rolls is an +occasional custom at both dances and balls. + +There is always an enormous glass bowl of punch or orangeade--sometimes +two or three bowls each containing a different iced drink--in a room +adjoining the ballroom. And in very cold climates it is the thoughtful +custom of some hostesses to have a cup of hot chocolate or bouillon +offered each departing guest. This is an especially welcome attention to +those who have a long drive home. + + +=A DANCE= + +A dance is merely a ball on a smaller scale, fewer people are asked to it +and it has usually, but not necessarily, simpler decorations. + +But the real difference is that invitations to balls always include older +people--as many if not more than younger ones--whereas invitations to a +dance for a debutante, for instance, include none but very young girls, +young men and the merest handful of the hostess' most intimate friends. + +Supper may equally be a simple buffet or an elaborate sit-down one, +depending upon the size and type of the house. + +Or a dance may equally well as a ball be given in the "banquet" or smaller +ballroom of a hotel, or in the assembly or ballroom of a club. + +A formal dance differs from an informal one merely in elaboration, and in +whether the majority of those present are strangers to one another; a +really informal dance is one to which only those who know one another well +are invited. + + +=DETAILS OF PREPARATION FOR A BALL OR DANCE IN A PRIVATE HOUSE= + +There is always an awning and a red carpet down the steps (or up), and a +chauffeur to open the carriage doors and a policeman or detective to see +that strangers do not walk uninvited into the house. If there is a great +crush, there is a detective in the hall to "investigate" anyone who does +not have himself announced to the hostess. + +All the necessary appurtenances such as awning, red carpet, coat hanging +racks, ballroom chairs, as well as crockery, glass, napkins, waiters and +food are supplied by hotels or caterers. (Excepting in houses like the +Gildings,' where footmen's liveries are kept purposely, the caterer's men +are never in footmen's liveries.) + +Unless a house has a ballroom the room selected for dancing must have all +the furniture moved out of it; and if there are adjoining rooms and the +dancing room is not especially big, it adds considerably to the floor +space to put no chairs around it. Those who dance seldom sit around a +ballroom anyway, and the more informal grouping of chairs in the hall or +library is a better arrangement than the wainscot row or wall-flower +exposition grounds. The floor, it goes without saying, must be smooth and +waxed, and no one should attempt to give a dance whose house is not big +enough. + + +=ETIQUETTE IN THE BALLROOM= + +New York's invitations are usually for "ten o'clock" but first guests do +not appear before ten-thirty and most people arrive at about eleven or +after. The hostess, however, must be ready to receive on the stroke of the +hour specified in her invitations, and the debutante or any one the ball +may be given for, must also be with her. + +It is not customary to put the debutante's name on the formal "At Home" +invitation, and it is even occasionally omitted on invitations that +"request the pleasure of ----" so that the only way acquaintances can know +the ball is being given for the daughter is by seeing her standing beside +her mother. + + Mr. & Mrs. Robert Gilding + + request the pleasure of + + [Name of guest is written here] + + company on Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of December + + at ten o'clock + + at the Fitz-Cherry + + Dancing R.s.v.p. + Twenty-three East Laurel Street + +The hostess never leaves her post, wherever it is she is standing, until +she goes to supper. If, as at the Ritz in New York, the ballroom opens on +a foyer at the head of a stairway, the hostess always receives at this +place. In a private house where guests go up in an elevator to the +dressing rooms, and then walk down to the ballroom floor, the hostess +receives either at the foot of the stairway, or just outside the ballroom. + + +=THE HOSTESS AT A BALL= + +Guests arriving are announced, as at a dinner or afternoon tea, and after +shaking hands with the hostess, they must pass on into the ballroom. It is +not etiquette to linger beside the hostess for more than a moment, +especially if later arrivals are being announced. A stranger ought never +go to a ball alone, as the hostess is powerless to "look after" any +especial guests; her duty being to stand in one precise place and receive. +A stranger who is a particular friend of the hostess would be looked after +by the host; but a stranger who is invited through another guest should be +looked after by that other. + +A gentleman who has received an invitation through a friend is usually +accompanied by the friend who presents him. Otherwise when the butler +announces him to the hostess, he bows, and says "Mrs. Norman asked you if +I might come." And the hostess shakes hands and says "How do you do, I am +very glad to see you." If other young men or any young girls are standing +near, the hostess very likely introduces him. Otherwise, if he knows no +one, he waits among the stags until his own particular sponsor appears. + +After supper, when she is no longer receiving, the hostess is free to talk +with her friends and give her attention to the roomful of young people who +are actually in her charge. + +When her guests leave she does not go back to where she received, but +stands wherever she happens to be, shakes hands and says "Good night." +There is one occasion when it is better not to bid one's hostess good +night, and that is, if one finds her party dull and leaves again +immediately; in this one case it is more polite to slip away so as to +attract the least attention possible, but late in the evening it is +inexcusably ill mannered not to find her and say "Good night" and "Thank +you." + +The duty of seeing that guests are looked after, that shy youths are +presented to partners, that shyer girls are not left on the far +wall-flower outposts, that the dowagers are taken in to supper, and that +the elderly gentlemen are provided with good cigars in the smoking-room, +falls to the host and his son or son-in-law, or any other near male member +of the family. + + +=MASQUERADE VOUCHERS= + +Vouchers or tickets of admission like those sent with invitations to +assembly or public balls should be enclosed in invitations to a +masquerade; it would be too easy otherwise for dishonest or other +undesirable persons to gain admittance. If vouchers are not sent with the +invitations, or better yet, mailed afterwards to all those who have +accepted, it is necessary that the hostess receive her guests singly in a +small private room and request each to unmask before her. + + +=HOW TO WALK ACROSS A BALLROOM= + +If you analyze the precepts laid down by etiquette you will find that for +each there is a perfectly good reason. Years ago a lady never walked +across a ballroom floor without the support of a gentleman's arm, which +was much easier than walking alone across a very slippery surface in +high-heeled slippers. When the late Ward McAllister classified New York +society as having four hundred people who were "at ease in a ballroom," he +indicated that the ballroom was the test of the best manners. He also said +at a dinner--after his book was published and the country had already made +New York's "Four Hundred" a theme for cartoons and jests--that among the +"Four hundred who were at ease," not more than ten could gracefully cross +a ballroom floor alone. If his ghost is haunting the ballrooms of our +time, it is certain the number is still further reduced. The athletic +young woman of to-day strides across the ballroom floor as though she were +on the golf course; the happy-go-lucky one ambles--shoulders stooped, arms +swinging, hips and head in advance of chest; others trot, others shuffle, +others make a rush for it. The young girl who could walk across a room +with the consummate grace of Mrs. Oldname (who as a girl of eighteen was +one of Mr. McAllister's ten) would have to be very assiduously sought for. + +How does Mrs. Oldname walk? One might answer by describing how Pavlowa +dances. Her body is perfectly balanced, she holds herself straight, and +yet in nothing suggests a ramrod. She takes steps of medium length, and, +like all people who move and dance well, walks from the hip, not the knee. +On no account does she swing her arms, nor does she rest a hand on her +hip! Nor when walking, does she wave her hands about in gesticulation. + +Some one asked her if she had ever been _taught_ to cross a ballroom +floor. As a matter of fact, she had. Her grandmother, who was a Toplofty, +made all her grandchildren walk daily across a polished floor with +sand-bags on their heads. And the old lady directed the drill herself. No +shuffling of feet and no stamping, either; no waggling of hips, no +swinging of arms, and not a shoulder stooped. Furthermore, they were +taught to enter a room and to sit for an indefinite period in +self-effacing silence while their elders were talking. + +Older gentlemen still give their arms to older ladies in all "promenading" +at a ball, since the customs of a lifetime are not broken by one short and +modern generation. Those of to-day walk side by side, except in going down +to supper when supper is at a set hour. + +At public balls when there is a grand march, ladies take gentlemen's arms. + + +=DISTINCTION VANISHED WITH COTILLION= + +The glittering display of tinsel satin favors that used to be the featured +and gayest decoration of every ballroom, is gone; the cotillion leader, +his hands full of "seat checks," his manners a cross between those of Lord +Chesterfield and a traffic policeman, is gone; and much of the distinction +that used to be characteristic of the ballroom is gone with the cotillion. +There is no question that a cotillion was prettier to look at than a mob +scene of dancers crowding each other for every few inches of progress. + +The reason why cotillions were conducive to good manners was that people +were on exhibition, where now they are unnoticed components of a general +crowd. When only a sixth, at most, of those in the room danced while +others had nothing to do but watch them, it was only natural that those +"on exhibition" should dance as well as they possibly could, and since +their walking across the room and asking others to dance by "offering a +favor" was also watched, grace of deportment and correct manners were not +likely to deteriorate, either. + +The cotillion was detested and finally banned by the majority who wanted +to dance ceaselessly throughout the evening. But it was of particular +advantage to the very young girl who did not know many men, as well as to +what might be called the helpless type. Each young girl, if she had a +partner, had a place where she belonged and where she sat throughout the +evening. And since no couple could dance longer than the few moments +allowed by the "figure," there was no chance of anyone's being "stuck"; so +that the average girl had a better chance of being asked to dance than +now--when, without programmes, and without cotillions, there is nothing to +relieve the permanency of a young man's attachment to an unknown young +girl once he asks her to dance. + + +=THE ORDEAL BY BALLROOM= + +Instead of being easier, it would seem that time makes it increasingly +difficult for any but distinct successes to survive the ordeal by +ballroom. Years ago a debutante was supposed to flutter into society in +the shadow of mamma's protecting amplitude; to-day she is packed off by +herself and with nothing to relieve her dependence upon whoever may come +near her. To liken a charming young girl in the prettiest of frocks to a +spider is not very courteous; and yet the role of spider is what she is +forced by the exigencies of ballroom etiquette to play. She _must_ catch a +fly, meaning a trousered companion, so as not to be left in placarded +disgrace; and having caught him she must hang on to him until another +takes his place. + +There should be drastic revision of ballroom customs. There is a desperate +need of what in local dancing classes was called the "Dump," where without +rudeness a gentleman could leave a lady as soon as they had finished +dancing. + +There used to be a chaperon into whose care a young girl could be +committed; there used to be the "dance card", or programme (still in vogue +at public balls) that allotted a certain dance to a certain gentleman and +lady equally. There used to be the cotillion which, while cruel, at least +committed its acts of cruelty with merciful dispatch. When the cotillion +began, the girl who had no partner--went home. She had to. Now, once she +has acquired a companion, he is planted beside her until another takes his +place. It is this fact and no other which is responsible for the dread +that the average young girl feels in facing the ordeal of a ballroom, and +for the discourteous unconcern shown by dancing men who under other +conditions would be friendly. + +The situation of a young girl, left cruelly alone, draws its own picture, +but the reason for the callous and ill-mannered behavior of the average +dancing man, may perhaps need a word of explanation. + +For instance: Jim Smartlington, when he was a senior at college, came down +to the Toploftys' ball on purpose to see Mary Smith. Very early, before +Mary arrived, he saw a Miss Blank, a girl he had met at a dinner in +Providence, standing at the entrance of the room. Following a casual +impulse of friendliness he asked her to dance. She danced badly. No one +"cut in" and they danced and danced, sat down and danced again. Mary +arrived. Jim walked Miss Blank near the "stag" line and introduced several +men, who bowed and slid out of sight with the dexterity of eels who +recognized a hook. From half-past ten until supper at half-past one, Jim +was "planted." He was then forced to tell her he had a partner for supper, +and left her at the door of the dressing-room. There was no other place to +"leave her." He felt like a brute and a cad, even though he had waited +nearly three hours before being able to speak to the girl he had come +purposely to see. + +There really is something to be said on the man's side; especially on that +of one who has to get up early in the morning and who, only intending to +see one or two particular friends and then go home, is forced because of +an impulse of courtesy not only to spend an endless and exhausting +evening, but to be utterly unfit for his work next day. + +One is equally sorry for the girl! But in the example above her stupid +handling of the situation not only spoiled one well-intentioned man's +evening, but completely "finished" herself so far as her future chances +for success were concerned. Not alone her partner but every brother-stag +who stood in the doorway mentally placarded her "Keep off." It is +suicidal for a girl to make any man spend an entire evening with her. If +at the end of two dances, there is no intimate friend she can signal to, +or an older lady she can insist on being left with, she should go home; +and if the same thing happens several times, she should not go to balls. + +For the reasons given above, there is little that a hostess or host can +do, unless a promise of "release" is held out, and that in itself is a +deplorable situation; a humiliation that no young girl's name should be +submitted to. And yet there it is! It is only necessary for a hostess to +say "I want to introduce you to a charming----" And she is already speaking +to the air. + +Boston hostesses solve the problem of a young girl's success in a ballroom +in a way unknown in New York, by having ushers. + + +=USHERS= + +Each hostess chooses from among the best known young men in society, who +have perfect address and tact, a number to act as ushers. They are +distinguished by white boutonnieres, like those worn by ushers at a +wedding, and they are deputy hosts. It is their duty to see that +wall-flowers are not left decorating the seats in the ballroom and it is +also their duty to relieve a partner who has too long been planted beside +the same "rosebud." + +The ushers themselves have little chance to follow their own inclinations, +and unless the "honor" of being chosen by a prominent hostess has some +measure of compensation, the appointment--since it may not be refused--is +a doubtful pleasure. An usher has the right to introduce anyone to anyone +without knowing either principal personally and without asking any lady's +permission. He may also ask a lady (if he has a moment to himself) to +dance with him, whether he has ever met her or not, and he can also leave +her promptly, because any "stag" called upon by an usher must dance. The +usher in turn must release every "stag" he calls upon by substituting +another; and the second by a third and so on. In order to make a ball +"go," meaning to keep everyone dancing, the ushers have on occasions to +spend the entire evening in relief work. + +At a ball where there are ushers, a girl standing or sitting alone would +at once be rescued by one of them, and a rotation of partners presented to +her. If she is "hopeless"--meaning neither pretty nor attractive nor a +good dancer--even the ushers are in time forced to relieve her partners +and take her to a dowager friend of the hostess, beside whom she will be +obliged to sit until she learns that she must seek her popularity +otherwhere than at balls. + +On the other hand, on an occasion when none of her friends happen to be +present, the greatest belle of the year can spend an equally deadly +evening. + + +=THE DANCE PROGRAM= + +The program or dance-card of public balls and college class dances, has +undeniable advantages. A girl can give as many dances as she chooses to +whomever she chooses; and a man can be sure of having not only many but +uninterrupted dances with the one he most wants to be with--provided "she" +is willing. Why the dance-card is unheard of at private balls in New York +is hard to determine, except that fashionable society does not care to +take its pleasure on schedule! The gilded youth likes to dance when the +impulse moves him; he also likes to be able to stay or leave when he +pleases. In New York there are often two or three dances given on the same +evening, and he likes to drift from one to the other just as he likes to +drift from one partner to another, or not dance at all if he does not want +to. A man who writes himself down for the tenth jazz must be eagerly +appearing on the stroke of the first bar. Or if he does not engage his +partners busily at the opening of the evening, he can not dance at all--he +may not want to, but he hates not being able to. + +So again we come back to the present situation and the problem of the +average young girl whose right it is, because of her youth and sweetness, +to be happy and young--and not to be terrified, wretched and neglected. +The one and only solution seems to be for her to join a group. + + +=THE FLOCK-SYSTEM OF THE WISE FLEDGLINGS= + +If a number of young girls and young men come together--better yet, if +they go everywhere together, always sit in a flock, always go to supper +together, always dance with one another--they not only have a good time +but they are sure to be popular with drifting odd men also. If a man knows +that having asked a girl to dance, one of her group will inevitably "cut +in," he is eager to dance with her. Or if he can take her "to the others" +when they have danced long enough, he is not only delighted to be with her +for a while but to sit with her "and the others" off and on throughout +that and every other evening, because since there are always "some of them +together" he can go again the moment he chooses. + +Certain groups of clever girls sit in precisely the same place in a +ballroom, to the right of the door, or the left, or in a corner. One might +almost say they form a little club; they dance as much as they like, but +come back "home" between whiles. They all go to supper together, and +whether individuals have partners or not is scarcely noticeable, nor even +known by themselves. + +No young girl, unless she is a marked favorite, should ever go to a ball +alone. If her especial "flock" has not as yet been systematized, she must +go to a dinner before every dance, so as to go, and stay, with a group. If +she is not asked to dinner, her mother must give one for her; or she must +have at least one dependable beau--or better, two--who will wait for her +and look out for her. + + +=MAID GOES WITH HER= + +A young girl who goes to a ball without a chaperon (meaning of course a +private ball), takes a maid with her who sits in the dressing-room the +entire evening. Not only is it thought proper to have a maid waiting, but +nothing can add more to the panic of a partnerless girl than to feel she +has not even a means of escape by going home; she can always call a taxi +as long as her maid is with her, and go. Otherwise she either has to stay +in the ballroom or sit forlorn among the visiting maids in the +dressing-room. + + +=WHAT MAKES A YOUNG GIRL A BALLROOM SUCCESS= + +Much of the above is so pessimistic one might suppose that a ballroom is +always a chamber of torture and the young girl taken as an example above, +a very drab and distorted caricature of what "a real young girl" should be +and is. But remember, the young girl who is a "belle of the ballroom" +needs no advice on how to manage a happy situation; no thought spent on +how to make a perfect time better. The ballroom is the most wonderful +stage-setting there is for the girl who is a ballroom success. And for +this, especial talents are needed just as they are for art or sport or any +other accomplishment. + +The great ballroom success, first and foremost, dances well. Almost always +she is pretty. Beauty counts enormously at a ball. The girl who is +beautiful and dances well is, of course, the ideal ballroom belle. +But--this for encouragement--these qualities can in a measure at least be +acquired. All things being more or less equal, the girl who dances best +has the most partners. Let a daughter of Venus or the heiress of Midas +dance badly, and she might better stay at home. + +To dance divinely is an immortal gift, but to dance well can (except in +obstinate cases, as the advertisements say) be taught. Let us suppose +therefore, that she dances well, that she has a certain degree of looks, +that she is fairly intelligent. The next most important thing, after +dancing well, is to be unafraid, and to look as though she were having a +good time. Conversational cleverness is of no account in a ballroom; some +of the greatest belles ever known have been as stupid as sheep, but they +have had happy dispositions and charming and un-self-conscious manners. +There is one thing every girl who would really be popular should learn, in +fact, she must learn--self-unconsciousness! The best advice might be to +follow somewhat the precepts of mental science and make herself believe +that a good time exists in her own mind. If she can become possessed with +the idea that she is having a good time and look as though she were, the +psychological effect is astonishing. + + +="CUTTING IN"= + +When one of the "stags" standing in the doorway sees a girl dance past +whom he wants to dance with, he darts forward, lays his hand on the +shoulder of her partner, who relinquishes his place in favor of the +newcomer, and a third in turn does the same to him. Or, the one, who was +first dancing with her, may "cut in on" the partner who took her from him, +after she has danced once around the ballroom. This seemingly far from +polite maneuver, is considered correct behavior in best society in Boston, +New York, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Chicago, San Francisco, and +therefore most likely in all parts of America. (Not in London, nor on the +Continent.) + +At dances organized during the War in the canteens for soldiers and +sailors on furlough, the men refused to "cut in" because they thought it +was rude and undoubtedly it is, except that custom has made it acceptable. +If, however, it still seems "rude" to the young men of Othertown to "cut +in," then they should not do so. + + +=SITTING OUT DANCES= + +On the other hand, if a girl is sitting in another room, or on the stairs +with a man alone, a second one should not interrupt, or ask her to dance. +If she is sitting in a group, he can go up and ask her, "Don't you want to +dance some of this?" She then either smiles and says, "Not just now--I am +very tired," or if she likes him, she may add, "Come and sit with us!" + +To refuse to dance with one man and then immediately dance with another is +an open affront to the first one--excusable only if he was intoxicated or +otherwise actually offensive so that the affront was both intentional and +justifiable. But under ordinary circumstances, if she is "dancing," she +must dance with everyone who asks her; if she is "not dancing," she must +not make exceptions. + +An older lady can very properly refuse to dance and then perhaps dance +briefly with her son or husband, without hurting her guest's proper pride, +but having refused to dance with one gentleman she must not change her +mind and dance later with another. + +A young girl who is dancing may not refuse to change partners when another +"cuts in." This is the worst phase of the "cutting in" custom; those who +particularly want to dance together are often unable to take more than a +dozen steps before being interrupted. Once in a while a girl will shake +her head "No" to a "stag" who darts toward her. But that is considered +rude. A few others have devised dancing with their eyes shut as a signal +that they do not want to be "cut in on." But this is neither customary nor +even a generally known practise. + +It is always the privilege of the girl to stop dancing; a man is supposed +to dance on and on, until she--or the music--stops. + + +=ASKING FOR A DANCE= + +When a gentleman is introduced to a lady he says, "May I have some of +this?" or "Would you care to dance?" + +A lady never asks a gentleman to dance, or to go to supper with her, +though she may if she is older, or if she is a young girl who is one of a +"flock," she may say "Come and sit at our table!" This however would not +imply that in sitting at "their" table he is supposed to sit next to her. + +In asking a lady to go to supper, a gentleman should say "Will you go to +supper with me?" Or "May I take you to supper?" He should never say, "Have +you a partner?" as she is put in an awkward position in having to admit +that she has none. + + +=A BALL IS NOT A DANCING SCHOOL= + +Since a girl may not without rudeness refuse to dance with a man who "cuts +in," a man who does not know how to dance is inexcusably inconsiderate if +he "cuts in" on a good dancer and compels a young girl to become +instructress for his own pleasure with utter disregard of hers. If at +home, or elsewhere, a young girl volunteers to "teach" him, that is +another matter, but even so, the ballroom is no place to practise--unless +he is very sure that his dancing is not so bad as to be an imposition on +his teacher. + +[Illustration: THE MOST ELABORATE DINNER-DANCE EVER GIVEN IN NEW YORK + +"The scene represents the palace and garden at Versailles. There were only +four tables. Singers appeared on the balcony during dinner, other +performers danced, sang and juggled on the pathways. After the dinner the +pathways of grass were taken up to permit dancing by the guests." [Page +271.]] + + +=NOVELTIES AND INNOVATIONS= + +Formal occasions demand strict conventions. At an important wedding, at a +dinner of ceremony, at a ball, it is not only bad form but shocking to +deviate from accepted standards of formality. "Surprize" is an element +that must be avoided on all dignified occasions. Those therefore, who +think it would be original and pleasing to spring surprizes on their +guests at an otherwise conventional and formal entertainment, should save +their ideas for a children's party where surprizes not only belong, but +are delightedly appreciated. To be sure, one might perhaps consider that +scenic effects or unusual diversions, such as one sees at a costume ball +or a "period" dinner, belong under the head of "surprize." But in the +first place such entertainments are not conventional; and in the second, +details that are in accordance with the period or design of the ball or +dinner are "conventions" after all. + +On the other hand, in the country especially, nothing can be more fun or +more appropriate than a barn dance, or an impromptu play, or a calico +masquerade, with properties and clothes made of any old thing and in a few +hours--even in a few minutes. + +Music need not be an orchestra but it must be good, and the floor must be +adequate and smooth. The supper is of secondary importance. As for +manners, even though they may be "unrestrained," they can be meticulously +perfect for all that! There is no more excuse for rude or careless or +selfish behavior at a picnic than at a ball. + + +=PUBLIC BALLS= + +A public ball is a ball given for a benefit or charity. A committee makes +the arrangements and tickets are sold to the public, either by being put +on sale at hotels or at the house of the secretary of the committee. A +young girl of social position does not go to a public ball without a +chaperon. To go in the company of one or more gentlemen would be an +unheard-of breach of propriety. + + +=SUBSCRIPTION DANCES AND BALLS= + +These are often of greater importance in a community than any number of +its private balls. In Boston and Philadelphia for instance, a person's +social standing is dependent upon whether or not she or he is "invited to +the Assemblies." The same was once true in New York when the Patriarch and +Assembly Balls were the dominating entertainments. In Baltimore too, a +man's social standing is non-existent if he does not belong to the "Monday +Germans," and in many other cities membership in the subscription dances +or dancing classes or sewing circles distinctly draws the line between the +inside somebodies and the outside nobodies. + +Subscription dances such as these are managed and all invitations are +issued by patronesses who are always ladies of unquestioned social +prominence. Usually these patronesses are elected for life, or at least +for a long period of years. When for one reason or another a vacancy +occurs, a new member is elected by the others to fill her place. No +outsider may ever ask to become a member. Usually a number of names are +suggested and voted on at a meeting, and whoever wins the highest number +of votes is elected. + +The expenses of balls such as Assemblies, are borne by the patronesses +collectively, but other types of dances are paid for by subscribers who +are invited to "take tickets"--as will be explained. + + +_How Subscription Dances Are Organized_ + +Whether in city, town or village, the organization is the same: A small +group of important ladies decide that it would be agreeable to have two or +three balls--or maybe only one--a season. This original group then +suggests additional names until they have all agreed upon a list +sufficient in size to form a nucleus. These then are invited to join, and +all of them at another meeting decide on the final size of the list and +whom it is to include. The list may be a hundred, or it may stay at the +original group of a half dozen or so. Let us for example say the complete +list is fifty. Fifty ladies, therefore, the most prominent possible, are +the patronesses or managers, or whatever they choose to call themselves. +They also elect a chairman, a vice-chairman, a secretary, and a treasurer. +They then elect seven or eight others who are to constitute the managing +committee. The other thirty-eight or forty are merely "members" who will +pay their dues and have the right to a certain number of tickets for each +of the balls. These tickets, by the way, are never actually sent by the +members themselves, who merely submit the names of the guests they have +chosen to the committee on invitations. This is the only practical way to +avoid duplication. Otherwise, let us say that Mrs. Oldname, Mrs. Worldly, +Mrs. Norman and Mrs. Gilding each send their two tickets to the young +Smartlingtons, which would mean that the Smartlingtons would have to +return three, and those three invitations would start off on a second +journey perhaps to be returned again. + +On the other hand, if each patroness sends in a list, the top names which +have not yet been entered in the "invitation book" are automatically +selected, and the committee notify her to whom her invitations went. + +There is also another very important reason for the sending in of every +name to the committee: exclusiveness. Otherwise the balls would all too +easily deteriorate into the character of public ones. Every name must be +approved by the committee on invitations, who always hold a special +meeting for the purpose, so that no matter how willing a certain careless +member would be to include Mr. and Mrs. Unsuitable, she is powerless to +send them tickets if they are not approved of. + +As a matter of fact there is rarely any question of withholding +invitations, since a serious objection would have to be sustained against +one to warrant such an action on the part of the committee. + + +_Number of Invitations Issued_ + +With fifty members, each might perhaps be allowed, besides her own ticket, +two ladies' invitations and four gentlemen's. That would make three +hundred and fifty invitations available altogether. The founders can of +course decide on whatever number they choose. Patronesses can also +exchange tickets. One who might want to ask a double number of guests to +the "First Assembly" can arrange with another to exchange her "Second +Assembly" invitations for "First" ones. Also it often happens that the +entire list sent in by a member has already been included, and not wanting +to use her tickets, she gives them to another member who may have a +debutante daughter and therefore be in need of extra ones. + +Bachelor Balls (like the "Monday Germans" of Baltimore) are run by the +gentlemen instead of the ladies. Otherwise they are the same as the +Assemblies. + + +_Other Forms of Subscription Dances_ + +Other forms are somewhat different in that instead of dividing the +expenses between members who jointly issue invitations to few or many +guests, the committee of ten, we will say, invites either all the men who +are supposed to be eligible or all the young girls, to subscribe to a +certain number of tickets. + +For instance, dances known usually as Junior Assemblies or the Holiday +Dances are organized by a group of ladies--the mothers, usually, of +debutantes. The members of the organization are elected just as the others +are, for life. But they are apt after a few years, when their daughters +are "too old," to resign in favor of others whose daughters are beginning +to be grown. The debutantes of highest social position are invited to +become members. Each one pays "dues" and has the privilege of asking two +men to each dance. Mothers are not expected to go to these dances unless +they are themselves patronesses. Sometimes young women go to these dances +until they marry; often they are for debutantes, but most often they are +for girls the year before they "come out," and for boys who are in +college. + + +_Patronesses Receive_ + +At a subscription dance where patronesses take the place of a hostess, +about four of these ladies are especially selected by the ball committee +to receive. They always stand in line and bow to each person who is +announced, but do not shake hands. The guest arriving also bows to the +hostesses collectively (not four times). A lady, for instance, is +announced: she takes a few steps toward the "receiving line" and makes a +slight courtesy; the ladies receiving make a courtesy in unison, and the +guest passes on. A gentleman bows ceremoniously, the way he was taught in +dancing school, and the ladies receiving incline their heads. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE DEBUTANTE + + +=HOW A YOUNG GIRL IS PRESENTED TO SOCIETY= + +Any one of various entertainments may be given to present a young girl to +society. The favorite and most elaborate of these, but possible only to +parents of considerable wealth and wide social acquaintance, is a ball. +Much less elaborate, but equal in size, and second in favor to-day, is an +afternoon tea with dancing. Third, and gaining in popularity, is a small +dance, which presents the debutante to the younger set and a few of her +mother's intimate friends. Fourth, is a small tea without music. Fifth, +the mere sending out of the mother's visiting card with the daughter's +name engraved below her own, announces to the world that the daughter is +eligible for invitations. + + +=A BALL FOR A DEBUTANTE= + +A ball for a debutante differs in nothing from all other balls excepting +that the debutante "receives" standing beside the hostess, and furthest +from the entrance, whether that happens to be on the latter's right or +left. The guests as they mount the stairs or enter the ballroom and are +"announced," approach the hostess first, who, as she shakes hands with +each, turns to the debutante and says "Mrs. Worldly, my daughter." Or +"Cynthia, I want to present you to Mrs. Worldly." ("Want to" is used on +this occasion because "may I" is too formal for a mother to say to her +child.) A friend would probably know the daughter; in any event the +mother's introduction would be, "You remember Cynthia, don't you?" + +Each arriving guest always shakes hands with the debutante as well as with +the hostess, and if there is a queue of people coming at the same time, +there is no need of saying anything beyond "How do you do?" and passing on +as quickly as possible. If there are no others entering at the moment, +each guest makes a few pleasant remarks. A stranger, for instance, would +perhaps comment on how lovely, and many, the debutante's bouquets are, or +express a hope that she will enjoy her winter, or talk for a moment or two +about the "gaiety of the season" or "the lack of balls," or anything that +shows polite interest in the young girl's first glimpse of society. A +friend of her mother might perhaps say "You look too lovely, Cynthia dear, +and your dress is enchanting!" + +Personal compliments, however, are proper only from a close friend. No +acquaintance, unless she is quite old, should ever make personal remarks. +An old lady or gentleman might very forgivably say "You don't mind, my +dear, if I tell you how sweet I think you look," or "What a pretty frock +you have on." But it is bad taste for a young woman to say to another +"What a handsome dress you have on!" and worst of all to add "Where did +you get it?" The young girl's particular friends are, of course, apt to +tell her that her dress is wonderful, or more likely, "simply divine." + +It is customary in most cities to send a debutante a bouquet at her +"coming out" party. They may be "bouquets" really, or baskets, or other +decorative flowers, and are sent by relatives, friends of the family, her +father's business associates, as well as by young men admirers. These +"bouquets" are always banked near and if possible, around the place the +debutante stands to receive. If she has great quantities, they are placed +about the room wherever they look most effective. The debutante usually +holds one of the bouquets while receiving, but she should remember that +her choice of this particular one among the many sent her is somewhat +pointed to the giver, so that unless she is willing to acknowledge one +particular beau as "best" it is wiser to carry one sent by her father, or +brother, especially if either send her one of the tiny 1830 bouquets that +have been for a year or two in fashion, and are no weight to hold. + +These bouquets are about as big around as an ordinary saucer, and just as +flat on top as a saucer placed upside down. The flowers chosen are +rosebuds or other compact flowers, massed tightly together, and arranged +in a precise pattern; for instance, three or four pink rosebuds are put in +the center, around them a row of white violets, around these a single row +of the pink roses, surrounded again by violets, and so on for four or five +rows. The bouquet is then set in stiff white lace paper, manufactured for +the purpose, the stems wrapped in white satin ribbon, with streamers of +white and pink ribbons about a quarter of an inch wide and tied to hang +twenty inches or so long. The colors and patterns in which these little +bouquets may be made are unlimited. + + +=THE DEBUTANTE RECEIVES= + +At a ball, where the guests begin coming about half past ten, the +debutante must stand beside the hostess and "receive" until at least +twelve o'clock--later if guests still continue to arrive. + +At all coming-out parties, the debutante invites a few of her best girl +friends to receive with her. Whether the party is in the afternoon or +evening, these young girls wear evening dresses and come early and stay +late. Their being asked to "receive" is a form of expression merely, as +they never stand in line, and other than wearing pretty clothes and thus +adding to the picture, they have no "duties" whatsoever. + + +=AT SUPPER= + +The debutante goes to supper with a partner who has surely spoken for the +privilege weeks or even months beforehand. But the rest of her own table +is always made up by herself; that is, it includes the young girls who are +her most intimate friends, and their supper partners. Her table is usually +in the center of the dining-room, but, there is no especial decoration to +distinguish it, except that it is often somewhat larger than the other +tables surrounding it, and a footman or waiter is detailed to tell any who +may attempt to take it, that it is "reserved." + +After supper the debutante has no duties and is free to enjoy herself. + +The afternoon tea with dancing is described in the chapter on Teas and +needs no further comment, since its etiquette is precisely the same as +that for a ball. The debutante's bouquets are arranged as effectively as +possible, and she receives with her mother, or whoever the hostess may be, +until the queue of arriving guests thins out, after which she need be +occupied with nothing but her own good time, and that of her friends. + +Those of smaller means, or those who object to hotel rooms, ask only +younger people, and give the tea in their own house. Where there are two +rooms on a floor--drawing-room in front, dining-room back, and a library +on the floor above, the guests are received in the drawing-room, but +whether they dance in the dining-room or up in the library, depends upon +which room is the larger. In either case the furniture is moved out. If +possible the smallest room should be used to receive in, the largest to +dance in, and the tea-table should be set in the medium one. + + +=HOW MANY GUESTS MAY ONE ASK?= + +A hostess should never try to pack her house beyond the limits of its +capacity. This question of how many invitations may safely be sent out is +one which each hostess must answer for herself, since beyond a few obvious +generalities no one can very well advise her. + +Taking a hostess of "average" social position, who is bringing out a +daughter of "average" attractiveness and popularity, it would be safe to +say that every debutante and younger man asked to a party of any kind +where there is dancing, will accept, but that not more than from half to +one-third of the older people asked will put in an appearance. + + +=LAVISH PARTIES GIVING WAY TO SIMPLE ONES= + +A ball, by the way, is always a general entertainment, meaning that +invitations are sent to the entire dinner list--not only actual but +potential--of the host and hostess, as well as to the younger people who +are either themselves friends of the debutante, or daughters and sons of +the friends, and acquaintances of the hostess. + +A dance differs from a ball in that it is smaller, less elaborate and its +invitations are limited to the contemporaries of the debutante, or at most +the youngest married set. + +Invitations to a tea are even more general and should include a hostess' +entire visiting list, irrespective of age or even personal acquaintance. +The old-fashioned visiting list of the young hostess included the entire +list of her mother, plus that of her mother-in-law, to which was added all +the names acquired in her own social life. It can easily be seen that this +list became a formidable volume by the time her daughter was old enough to +"come out," and yet this entire list was supposed to be included in all +"general" invitations! + +In the present day, however, at least in New York, there is a growing +tendency to eliminate these general or "impersonal" invitations. In +smartest society, it is not even considered necessary that a "general" +entertainment be given to introduce a daughter. In New York last winter +there were scarcely a dozen private balls all told. Many of the most +fashionable (and richest) hostesses gave dances limited to young girls of +their daughters' ages and young dancing men. Even at many of the +teas-with-dancing none but young people were asked. + +Anyone who likes to sit on the bank and watch the tides of fashion rise +and fall, cannot fail to notice that big and lavish entertainments are +dwindling, and small and informal ones increasing. It is equally apparent, +contrary to popular opinion, that extravagance of expenditure is growing +less and less. It is years since any one has given such a ball, for +instance, as the Venetian fete the Gildings gave to bring out their eldest +daughter, when the entire first floor of the Fitz-Cherry was turned into a +replica of Venice--canals, gondolas, and all. Or the Persian ball of the +Vanstyles where the whole house was hung, as a background for Oriental +costumes, with copper-gold draperies, against which stood at intervals +Maxfield Parrish cypress trees. Or the moonlight dance of the Worldlys +which was not a fancy dress one, but for which the ballroom was turned +into a garden scene, lighted by simulated moonlight that would have added +to the renown of Belasco. + +Such entertainments as these seem almost "out of key" with the attitude of +to-day. For although fancy-dress and elaborate parties are occasionally +given, they are not usually given for debutantes, nor on the scale of +those mentioned above. + + +=THE DEBUTANTE'S DRESS= + +At a ball, the debutante wears her very prettiest ball dress. +Old-fashioned sentiment prefers that it be white, and of some diaphanous +material, such as net or gauze or lace. It ought not to look +overelaborate, even though it is spangled with silver or crystal or is +made of sheer lace. It should suggest something light and airy and gay +and, above all, young. For a young girl to whom white is unbecoming, a +color is perfectly suitable as long as it is a pale shade. She should not +wear strong colors such as red, or Yale blue, and on no account black! Her +mother, of course, wears as handsome a ball dress as possible, and "all +her jewels." + +At an afternoon tea the debutante wears an evening dress--a very simple +evening dress, but an evening dress all the same. Usually a very pale +color, and quite untrimmed, such as she might wear at home for dinner. Her +mother wears an afternoon dress, not an evening one. Both mother and +daughter wear long gloves, and neither they, nor the young girls +receiving, wear hats. + +To describe the details of clothes is futile. Almost before this page +comes from the printer, the trend may quite likely change. But the +tendency of the moment is toward greater simplicity--in effect at all +events. + + +=IN CONFIDENCE TO A DEBUTANTE= + +Let us pretend a worldly old godmother is speaking, and let us suppose +that you are a young girl on the evening of your coming-out ball. You are +excited, of course you are! It is your evening, and you are a sort of +little princess! There is music, and there are lights, and there are +flowers everywhere--a great ballroom massed with them, tables heaped with +bouquets--all for you! You have on an especially beautiful dress--one that +was selected from among many others, just because it seemed to you the +prettiest. Even your mother and married sister who, "_en grande tenue_," +have always seemed to you dazzling figures, have for the moment become, +for all their brocades and jewels, merely background; and you alone are +the center of the picture. Up the wide staircase come throngs of +fashionables--who mean "the world." They are coming on purpose to bow to +you! You can't help feeling that the glittering dresses, the tiaras, the +ropes of pearls and chains of diamonds of the "dowagers," the stiff white +shirt-fronts and boutonnieres and perfectly fitting coats of the older +gentlemen, as well as the best clothes of all the younger people, were all +put on for you. + +You shake hands and smile sweetly to a number of older ladies and shake +hands with an equal number of gentlemen, all very politely and properly. +Then suddenly, half way up the stairs you see Betty and Anne and Fred and +Ollie. Of course your attention is drawn to them. You are vaguely +conscious that the butler is shouting some stupid name you never heard +of--that you don't care in the least about. Your mother's voice is saying +"Mrs. zzzzzz----," + +Impatiently you give your hand to someone--you haven't the slightest idea +who it is. So far as your interest is concerned, you might as well be +brushing away annoying flies. Your smiles are directed to Betty and Anne. +As they reach the top of the stairs you dart forward and enter into an +excited conversation, deliberately overlooking a lady and gentleman who, +without trying further to attract your attention, pass on. Later in the +winter you will perhaps wonder why you alone among your friends are never +asked to Great Estates. The lady and gentleman of whom you are so rudely +unaware, happen to be Mr. and Mrs. Worldly, and you have entirely +forgotten that you are a hostess, and furthermore that you have the whole +evening, beginning at supper, when you can talk to these friends of yours! +You can dance with Fred and Ollie and Jimmy all the rest of the evening; +you can spend most of your time with them for the rest of your life if you +and they choose. But when you are out in public, above all at a party +which is for _you_, your duty in commonest civility is to overcome your +impulses, and behave as a grown-up person--and a well-bred grown-up person +at that! + +It takes scarcely more than ten seconds to listen to the name that is said +to you, to look directly and attentively at the one to whom the name +belongs, to put out your hand firmly as you would take hold of something +you like, (not something that you feel an aversion to), and with a smile +say "How do you do." At your ball your mother says "Mrs. Worldly, my +daughter." You look directly at Mrs. Worldly, put out your hand, say "How +do you do, Mrs. Worldly." And she passes on. It takes no longer to be +cordial and attentive than to be distrait and casual and rude, yet the +impression made in a few seconds of actual time may easily gain or lose a +friend for life. When no other guests are arriving, you can chatter to +your own friends as much as you like, but as you turn to greet another +stranger, you must show pleasure, not annoyance, in giving him your +attention. + +A happy attitude to cultivate is to think in your own mind that new people +are all packages in a grab-bag, and that you can never tell what any of +them may prove to be until you know what is inside the outer wrappings of +casual appearances. To be sure, the old woman of the fairy tale, who turns +out to be a fairy in disguise, is not often met with in real life, but +neither is her approximate counterpart an impossibility. + +As those who have sent you flowers approach, you must thank them; you must +also write later an additional note of thanks to older people. But to +your family or your own intimate friends, the verbal thanks--if not too +casually made--are sufficient. + + +=A FEW DON'TS FOR DEBUTANTES= + +Don't think that because you have a pretty face, you need neither brains +nor manners. Don't think that you can be rude to anyone and escape being +disliked for it. + +Whispering is always rude. Whispering and giggling at the same time have +no place in good society. Everything that shows lack of courtesy toward +others is rude. + +If you would be thought a person of refinement, don't nudge or pat or +finger people. Don't hold hands or walk arm-about-waist in public. Never +put your hand on a man, except in dancing and in taking his arm if he is +usher at a wedding or your partner for dinner or supper. Don't allow +anyone to paw you. Don't hang on anyone for support, and don't stand or +walk with your chest held in, and your hips forward, in imitation of a +reversed letter S. + +Don't walk across a ballroom floor swinging your arms. Don't talk or laugh +loud enough to attract attention, and on no account force yourself to +laugh. Nothing is flatter than laughter that is lacking in mirth. If you +only laugh because something is irresistibly funny, the chances are your +laugh will be irresistible too. In the same way a smile should be +spontaneous, because you _feel_ happy and pleasant; nothing has less +allure than a mechanical grimace, as though you were trying to imitate a +tooth-paste advertisement. + + +=WHERE ARE THE "BELLES" OF YESTERDAY?= + +In olden days and until a comparatively short while ago, a young girl's +social success was invariably measured by her popularity in a ballroom. It +was the girl who had the most partners, who least frequently sat "against +the wall," who carried home the greatest quantity of the baubles known as +"favors," who was that evening's and usually the season's belle. + +But to-day although ballroom popularity is still important as a test by +which a young girl's success is measured, it is by no means the beginning +and end that it used to be. + +As repeated several times in this book, the day of the belle is past; +beaux belong to the past too. To-day is the day of woman's equality with +man, and if in proving her equality she has come down from a pedestal, her +pedestal was perhaps a theatrical "property" at best and not to be +compared for solid satisfaction with the level ground of the entirely real +position she now occupies. + +A girl's popularity in a ballroom is of importance to be sure, but not +greatly more so than the dancing popularity of a youth. + +There was a time when "wall-flowers" went to balls night after night where +they either sat beside a chaperon or spent the evening in the +dressing-room in tears. To-day a young girl who finds she is not a +ballroom success avoids ballrooms and seeks her success otherwhere. She +does not sit in a corner and hope against hope that her "luck will turn" +and that Prince Charming will surely some evening discover her. She sizes +up the situation exactly as a boy might size up his own chances to "make" +the crew or the football team. + + +=TO-DAY'S SPECIALISTS IN SUCCESS= + +The girl of to-day soon discovers, if she does not know it already, that +to be a ballroom belle it is necessary first of all to dance really well. +A girl may be as beautiful as a young Diana or as fascinating as Circe, +but if she is heavy or steps on her first partner's toes, never again will +he ask her to dance. And the news spreads in an instant. + +The girl of to-day therefore knows she must learn to dance well, which is +difficult, since dancers are born, not made; or she must go to balls for +supper only, or not go to balls at all, _unless_--she plays a really good +game of bridge! In which case, her chances for popularity at the bridge +tables, which are at all balls to-day, are quite as good as though she +were a young Pavlowa in the ballroom. Or perhaps she skates, or hunts, or +plays a wonderful game of tennis or golf, each one of which opens a vista +leading to popularity, and the possibilities for a "good time" which was +after all the mainspring of old-fashioned ballroom success. + +And since the day of femininity that is purely ornamental and utterly +useless is gone by, it is the girl who does things well who finds life +full of interests and of friends and of happiness. The old idea also has +passed that measures a girl's popular success by the number of trousered +figures around her. It is quality, not quantity, that counts; and the girl +who surrounds herself with indiscriminate and possibly "cheap" youths does +not excite the envy but the derision of beholders. To the highest type of +young girl to-day it makes very little difference whether, in the +inevitable "group" in which she is perpetually to be found, there are more +men than girls or the opposite. + +This does not mean that human nature has changed--scarcely! There always +are and doubtless always will be any number of women to whom admiration +and flirtation is the very breath of their nostrils, who love to parade a +beau just as they love to parade a new dress. But the tendencies of the +time do not encourage the flirtatious attitude. It is not considered a +triumph to have many love affairs, but rather an evidence of stupidity and +bad taste. + + +=FRANKNESS OF TO-DAY= + +A young man playing tennis with a young girl a generation ago would have +been forced patiently to toss her gentle balls and keep his boredom to +himself, or he would have held her chin in his hand, while he himself +stood shivering for hours in three feet of water, and tried his best to +disguise his opinion as to the hopelessness of her ever learning to swim. + +To-day he would frankly tell her she had better play tennis for a year or +two with a "marker" or struggle at swimming by herself, and any sensible +girl would take that advice! + + +=FOR WHAT SHE REALLY IS= + +Instead of depending upon beauty, upon sex-appeal, the young girl who is +"the success of to-day" depends chiefly upon her actual character and +disposition. It is not even so necessary to do something well as to +refrain from doing things badly. If she is not good at sports, or games, +or dancing, then she must find out what she is good at and do that! If she +is good for nothing but to look in the glass and put rouge on her lips and +powder her nose and pat her hair, life is going to be a pretty dreary +affair. In other days beauty was worshiped for itself alone, and it has +votaries of sorts to-day. But the best type of modern youth does not care +for beauty, as his father did; in fact, he doesn't care a bit for it, if +it has nothing to "go with it," any more than he cares for butter with no +bread to spread it on. Beauty _and_ wit, _and_ heart, _and_ other +qualifications or attributes is another matter altogether. + +A gift of more value than beauty, is charm, which in a measure is another +word for sympathy, or the power to put yourself in the place of others; to +be interested in whatever interests them, so as to be pleasing to them, if +possible, but not to occupy your thoughts in futilely wondering what they +think about you. + +Would you know the secret of popularity? It is unconsciousness of self, +altruistic interest, and inward kindliness, outwardly expressed in good +manners. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE CHAPERON AND OTHER CONVENTIONS + + +=A GLOOMY WORD= + +Of course there are chaperons and chaperons! But it must be said that the +very word has a repellent schoolteacherish sound. One pictures +instinctively a humorless tyrant whose "correct" manner plainly reveals +her true purpose, which is to take the joy out of life. That she can +be--and often is--a perfectly human and sympathetic person, whose +unselfish desire is merely to smooth the path of one who is the darling of +her heart, in nothing alters the feeling of gloom that settles upon the +spirit of youth at the mention of the very word "chaperon." + + +=FREEDOM OF THE CHAPERONED= + +As a matter of fact the only young girl who is really "free," is she whose +chaperon is never very far away. She need give conventionality very little +thought, and not bother about her P's and Q's at all, because her chaperon +is always a strong and protective defense; but a young girl who is +unprotected by a chaperon is in the position precisely of an unarmed +traveler walking alone among wolves--his only defense is in not attracting +their notice. + +To be sure the time has gone by when the presence of an elderly lady is +indispensable to every gathering of young people. Young girls for whose +sole benefit and protection the chaperon exists (she does not exist for +her own pleasure, youthful opinion to the contrary notwithstanding), have +infinitely greater freedom from her surveillance than had those of other +days, and the typical chaperon is seldom seen with any but very young +girls, too young to have married friends. Otherwise a young married woman, +a bride perhaps scarcely out of her teens, is, on all ordinary occasions, +a perfectly suitable chaperon, especially if her husband is present. A +very young married woman gadding about without her husband is not a proper +chaperon. + +There are also many occasions when a chaperon is unnecessary! It is +considered perfectly correct for a young girl to drive a motor by herself, +or take a young man with her, if her family know and approve of him, for +any short distance in the country. She may play golf, tennis, go to the +Country Club, or Golf Club (if near by), sit on the beach, go canoeing, +ride horseback, and take part in the normal sports and occupations of +country life. Young girls always go to private parties of every sort +without their own chaperon, but the fact that a lady issues an invitation +means that either she or another suitable chaperon will be present. + + +=THE BEST CHAPERON HERSELF= + +Ethically the only chaperon is the young girl's own sense of dignity and +pride; she who has the right attributes of character needs no +chaperon--ever. If she is wanting in decency and proper pride, not even +Argus could watch over her! But apart from ethics, there are the +conventions to think of, and the conventions of propriety demand that very +young woman must be protected by a chaperon, because otherwise she will be +misjudged. + + +=THE RESIDENT CHAPERON= + +No young girl may live alone. Even though she has a father, unless he +devotes his entire time to her, she must also have a resident chaperon who +protects her reputation until she is married or old enough to protect it +herself--which is not until she has reached a fairly advanced age, of +perhaps thirty years or over if she is alone, or twenty-six or so if she +lives in her father's house and behaves with such irreproachable +circumspection that Mrs. Grundy is given no chance to set tongues +wagging. + +It goes without saying that a chaperon is always a lady, often one whose +social position is better than that of her charge; occasionally she is a +social sponsor as well as a moral one. Her position, if she is not a +relative, is very like that of a companion. Above all, a chaperon must +have dignity, and if she is to be of any actual service, she must be kind +of heart and have intelligent sympathy and tact. To have her charge not +only care for her, but be happy with her, is the only possible way such a +relationship can endure. + +Needless to say a chaperon's own conduct must be irreproachable and her +knowledge of the world such as can only be gained by personal experience; +but she need not be an old lady! She can perfectly well be reasonably +young, and a spinster. + +Very often the chaperon "keeps the house," but she is never called a +"housekeeper." Nor is she a "secretary" though she probably draws the +checks and audits the bills. + +It is by no means unusual for mothers who are either very gay or otherwise +busy, and cannot give most of their time to their grown and growing +daughters, to put them in charge of a resident chaperon. Often their +governess--if she is a woman of the world--gives up her autocracy of the +schoolroom and becomes social guardian instead. + + +=THE DUTIES OF A CHAPERON= + +It is unnecessary to say that a chaperon has no right to be inquisitive or +interfering unless for a very good reason. If an objectionable +person--meaning one who can not be considered a gentleman--is inclined to +show the young girl attentions, it is of course her duty to cut the +acquaintance short at the beginning before the young girl's interest has +become aroused. For just such a contingency as this it is of vital +importance that confidence and sympathy exist between the chaperon and her +charge. No modern young girl is likely to obey blindly unless she values +the opinions of one in whose judgment and affection she has learned to +believe. + +WHEN INVITATIONS ARE SENT OUT BY A CHAPERON + +Usually if a young girl is an orphan, living with a chaperon, a ball or +formal party would be given in the name of an aunt or other near relative. +If her father is alive, the invitations go out in his name of course, and +he receives with her. But if it should happen that she has no near family +at all, or if her chaperon is her social sponsor, the chaperon's name can +be put on invitations. For example: + + Miss Abigail Titherington + + Miss Rosalie Gray + + will be at home + + on Saturday the fifth of December + + from four until six o'clock + + The Fitz-Cherry + +Rosalie has no very near relatives and Miss Titherington has brought her +up. + +In sending out the invitations for a dinner (a young girl would not be +giving a formal dinner) Rosalie telephones her friends "Will you dine with +me (or us) next Monday?" or, "On the sixteenth?" It is not necessary to +mention Miss Titherington because it is taken for granted that she will be +present. + +It is also not considered proper for a young girl ever to be alone as +hostess. When she invites young girls and men to her house, Miss +Titherington either "receives" them or comes into the room while they are +there. If the time is afternoon, very likely she pours tea and when +everyone has been helped, she goes into another room. She does not stay +with them ever, but she is never very far away. + +The chaperon (or a parent) should never go to bed until the last young +man has left the house. It is an unforgivable breach of decorum to allow a +young girl to sit up late at night with a young man--or a number of them. +On returning home from a party, she must not invite or allow a man to +"come in for a while." Even her fiance must bid her good night at the door +if the hour is late, and some one ought always to sit up, or get up, to +let her in. No young girl ought to let herself in with a latch-key. + +In old-fashioned days no lady had a latch-key. And it is still fitting and +proper for a servant to open the door for her. + +A young girl may not, even with her fiance, lunch in a road house without +a chaperon, or go on a journey that can by any possibility last over +night. To go out with him in a small sail-boat sounds harmless enough, but +might result in a questionable situation if they are becalmed, or if they +are left helpless in a sudden fog. The Maine coast, for example, is +particularly subject to fogs that often shut down without warning and no +one going out on the water can tell whether he will be able to get back +within a reasonable time or not. A man and a girl went out from Bar Harbor +and did not get back until next day. Everyone knew the fog had come in as +thick as pea-soup and that it was impossible to get home; but to the end +of time her reputation will suffer for the experience. + + +=A FEW PRECEPTS OF CONVENTION= + +At a dinner party given for young people in a private house, a somewhat +older sister would be a sufficient chaperon. Or the young hostess' mother +after receiving the guests may, if she chooses, dine with her husband +elsewhere than in the dining-room, the parents' roof being supposedly +chaperonage enough. + +In going to tea in a college man's room, or in a bachelor's apartment, the +proper chaperon should be a lady of fairly mature years. To see two or +three apparently young people going into a bachelor's quarters would be +open to criticism. There are many places which are unsuitable for young +girls to go to whether they are chaperoned or not. No well brought up +young girl should be allowed to go to supper at a cabaret until she is +married, or has passed the age when "very young" can be applied to her. + + +=CONVENTIONS THAT CHANGE WITH LOCALITY= + +In New York, for instance, no young girl of social standing may, without +being criticized, go alone with a man to the theater. Absolutely no lady +(unless middle-aged-and even then she would be defying convention) can go +to dinner or supper in a restaurant alone with a gentleman. A lady, not +young, who is staying in a very dignified hotel, can have a gentleman dine +with her. But any married woman, if her husband does not object, may dine +alone in her own home with any man she pleases or have a different one +come in to tea every day in the week without being criticized. + +A very young girl may motor around the country alone with a man, with her +father's consent, or sit with him on the rocks by the sea or on a log in +the woods; but she must not sit with him in a restaurant. All of which is +about as upside down as it can very well be. In a restaurant they are not +only under the surveillance of many eyes, but they can scarcely speak +without being overheard, whereas short-distance motoring, driving, riding, +walking or sitting on the seashore has no element of protection certainly. +Again, though she may not lunch with him in a restaurant, she is sometimes +(not always) allowed to go to a moving picture matinee with him! Why +sitting in the dark in a moving picture theater is allowed, and the +restaurant is tabu is very mysterious. + +Older girls and young married women are beginning to lunch with men they +know well in some of the New York restaurants, but not in others. In many +cities it would be scandalous for a young married woman to lunch with a +man not her husband, but quite all right for a young girl and man to lunch +at a country club. This last is reasonable because the room is undoubtedly +filled with people they know--who act as potential chaperons. Nearly +everywhere it is thought proper for them to go to a dancing club for tea, +if the "club" is managed by a chaperon. + +As said above, interpretation of what is proper shifts according to +locality. Even in Victorian days it was proper in Baltimore for a young +girl to go to the theater alone with a man, and to have him see her home +from a ball was not only permitted but absolutely correct. + + +="MRS. GRUNDY"= + +Of course every one has his own portrait of Mrs. Grundy, and some idea of +the personality she shows to him; but has any one ever tried to ferret out +that disagreeable old woman's own position; to find out where she lives +and why she has nothing to do but meddle in affairs which do not concern +her. Is she a lady? One would imagine she is not. One would also imagine +that she lives in a solid well-repaired square brown stone house with a +cupola used as a conning tower and equipped with periscope and telescope +and wireless. Furthermore, her house is situated on a bleak hill so that +nothing impedes her view and that of her two pets, a magpie and a jackal. +And the business in life of all three of them is to track down and destroy +the good name of every woman who comes within range, especially if she is +young and pretty--and unchaperoned! + +The pretty young woman living alone, must literally follow Cinderella's +habits. To be out of the house late at night or sitting up, except to +study, are imprudences she can not allow herself. If she is a widow her +conduct must be above criticism, but if she is young and pretty and +divorced, she must literally live the life of a Puritan spinster of Salem. +The magpie never leaves her window sill and the jackal sits on the +doormat, and the news of her every going out and coming in, of every one +whom she receives, when they come, how long they stay and at what hour +they go, is spread broadcast. + +No unprotected woman can do the least thing that is unconventional without +having Mrs. Grundy shouting to everyone the worst possible things about +her. + + +=THE BACHELOR GIRL= + +The bachelor girl is usually a worker; she is generally either earning her +living or studying to acquire the means of earning her living. Her days +are therefore sure to be occupied, and the fact that she has little time +for the gaiety of life, and that she is a worker, puts her in a somewhat +less assailable position. She can on occasion go out alone with a man (not +a married one), but the theater she goes to must be of conventional +character, and if she dines in a restaurant it is imperative that a +chaperon be in the party; and the same is true in going to supper at +night. No one could very well criticize her for going to the opera or a +concert with a man when neither her nor his behavior hints a lack of +reserve. + +But a girl whose personal dignity is unassailable is not apt to bring +censure upon herself, even though the world judges by etiquette, which may +often be a false measure. The young woman who wants really to be free from +Mrs. Grundy's hold on her, must either live her own life, caring nothing +for the world's opinion or the position it offers, or else be chaperoned. + + +=THE BACHELOR HOST AND THE CHAPERON= + +Barring the one fact that a chaperon must be on hand before young or +"single" women guests arrive, and that she may not leave until after those +whom she has chaperoned have left, there is no difference whatsoever in an +entertainment given at the house of a bachelor and one given by a hostess. +A bachelor can give dinners or theater parties or yachting parties or +house parties or any parties that a hostess can give. + +It is unnecessary to say no lady may dine alone in a gentleman's rooms, or +house; nor may she dine with a number of gentlemen (unless one of them is +her husband, in which case she is scarcely "alone"). But it is perfectly +correct for two or more ladies to dine at a gentleman's rooms if one of +the ladies is elderly or the husband of one is present. + +A bachelor entertaining in bachelor's quarters, meaning that he has only a +man servant, must be much more punctilious, and must arrange to have the +chaperon bring any young woman guests with her, since no young girls could +be seen entering bachelor's quarters alone, and have their "good name" +survive. If he has a large establishment, including women servants, and if +furthermore he is a man whose own reputation is unblemished, the chaperon +may be met at his house. But since it is more prudent for young women to +arrive under her care, why run the unnecessary risk of meeting Mrs. +Grundy's jackal on the doorstep? + +At the house of a bachelor such as described above, the chaperon could be +a husbandless young married woman, or in other words, the most careless +chaperon possible, without ever giving Mrs. Grundy's magpie cause for +ruffling a feather. But no young woman could dine or have tea, no matter +how well chaperoned, in the "rooms" of a man of morally bad reputation +without running a very unpleasant risk of censure. + + +=A BACHELOR'S HOUSE PARTIES= + +Bachelors frequently have house parties at their country places. A married +lady whose husband is with her is always the chaperon unless the host's +mother or sister may be staying--or living--in his house. + +There is always something unusually alluring about a bachelor's +entertaining. Especially his house parties. Where do all bachelors get +those nice and so very respectable elderly maid servants? They can't all +have been their nurses! And a bachelor's house has a something about it +that is very comfortable but entirely different from a lady's house, +though it would be difficult to define wherein the difference lies. He is +perhaps more attentive than a hostess, at least he meets his guests at the +station if they come by train, or, if they motor to his house, he goes out +on the front steps to greet them as they drive up. + +A possible reason why bachelors seem to make such good hosts is that only +those who have a talent for it make the attempt. There is never any +obligation on a gentleman's part to invite ladies to stay with him, +whereas it is part of every lady's duty at least occasionally to be a +hostess, whether she has talent, or even inclination, for the position or +not. + +A gentleman can return the courtesies of hostesses to him by occasionally +sending flowers, or books, or candy, and by showing them polite attention +when he meets them out. + +If a bachelor lives in a house of his own, especially in a country +community, he is under the same obligations as any other householder to +return the hospitality shown by his neighbors to him. + + +=INVITATIONS= + +The bachelor's invitations are the same as those sent out by a hostess. +There is absolutely no difference. His butler or waitress telephones "Will +Mr. and Mrs. Norman dine with Mr. Bachelor on Wednesday?" Or he writes a +note or uses the engraved dinner card. In giving an informal dance it is +quite correct, according to New York fashion, for him to write on his +visiting card: + + +[HW: Monday Jan.^y 3^rd + +At 10 o'clock] + +Mr. Frederick Bachelor + +[HW: Small Dance] 2 Pormanto Place + + +Or an artist sends his card with his studio address and + +[HW: Saturday April 7. +at 4 o'ck] + +=MR. ANTHONY DAUBER= + +[HW: To hear Tonini Play] Park Studio + + +No invitation of a gentleman mentions that there will be a chaperon +because that is taken for granted. No gentleman invites ladies of position +to a party unless one or many chaperons are to be present. + +A very young girl never goes even to an unmarried doctor's or a +clergyman's (unless the latter is very elderly) without a chaperon, who in +this instance may be a semi-elderly maid. + +A lady having her portrait painted always takes a woman friend, or her +maid, who sits in the studio, or at least within sight or hearing. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ENGAGEMENTS + + +=COURTSHIP= + +So long as Romance exists and Lochinvar remains young manhood's ideal, +love at first sight and marriage in a week is within the boundaries of +possibility. But usually (and certainly more wisely) a young man is for +some time attentive to a young woman before dreaming of marriage. Thus not +only have her parents plenty of time to find out what manner of man he is, +and either accept or take means to prevent a serious situation; but the +modern young woman herself is not likely to be "carried away" by the +personality of anyone whose character and temperament she does not pretty +thoroughly understand and weigh. + +In nothing does the present time more greatly differ from the close of the +last century, than in the unreserved frankness of young women and men +towards each other. Those who speak of the domination of sex in this day +are either too young to remember, or else have not stopped to consider, +that mystery played a far greater and more dangerous role when sex, like a +woman's ankle, was carefully hidden from view, and therefore far more +alluring than to-day when both are commonplace matters. + +In cities twenty-five years ago, a young girl had beaux who came to see +her one at a time; they in formal clothes and manners, she in her "company +best" to "receive" them, sat stiffly in the "front parlor" and made +politely formal conversation. Invariably they addressed each other as Miss +Smith and Mr. Jones, and they "talked off the top" with about the same +lack of reservation as the ambassador of one country may be supposed to +talk to him of another. A young man was said to be "devoted" to this young +girl or that, but as a matter of fact each was acting a role, he of an +admirer and she of a siren, and each was actually an utter stranger to the +other. + + +=FRIENDSHIP AND GROUP SYSTEM= + +To-day no trace of stilted artificiality remains. The tete-a-tete of a +quarter of a century ago has given place to the continual presence of a +group. A flock of young girls and a flock of young men form a little group +of their own--everywhere they are together. In the country they visit the +same houses or they live in the same neighborhood, they play golf in +foursomes, and tennis in mixed doubles. In winter at balls they sit at the +same table for supper, they have little dances at their own homes, where +scarcely any but themselves are invited; they play bridge, they have tea +together, but whatever they do, they stay in the pack. In more than one +way this group habit is excellent; young women and men are friends in a +degree of natural and entirely platonic intimacy undreamed of in their +parents' youth. Having the habit therefore of knowing her men friends +well, a young girl is not going to imagine a stranger, no matter how +perfect he may appear to be, anything but an ordinary human man after all. +And in finding out his bad points as well as his good, she is aided and +abetted, encouraged or held in check, by the members of the group to which +she belongs. + +Suppose, for instance, that a stranger becomes attentive to Mary; +immediately her friends fix their attention upon him, watching him. +Twenty-five years ago the young men would have looked upon him with +jealousy, and the young women would have sought to annex him. To-day their +attitude is: "Is he good enough for Mary?" And, eagle-eyed, protective of +Mary, they watch him. If they think he is all right he becomes a member of +the group. It may develop that Mary and he care nothing for each other, +and he may fall in love with another member, or he may drift out of the +group again or he may stay in it and Mary herself marry out of it. But if +he is not liked, her friends will not be bashful about telling Mary +exactly what they think, and they will find means usually--unless their +prejudice is without foundation--to break up the budding "friendship" far +better than any older person could do. If she is really in love with him +and determined to marry in spite of their frankly given opinion, she at +least makes her decision with her eyes open. + +There are also occasions when a young woman is persuaded by her parents +into making a "suitable marriage"; there are occasions when a young woman +persists in making a marriage in opposition to her parents; but usually a +young man either belongs in or joins her particular circle of intimate +friends, and one day, it may be to their own surprize, though seldom to +that of their intimates, they find that each is the only one in the world +for the other, and they become engaged. + + +=FIRST DUTY OF THE ACCEPTED SUITOR= + +If a young man and his parents are very close friends it is more than +likely he will already have told them of the seriousness of his +intentions. Very possibly he has asked his father's financial assistance, +or at least discussed ways and means, but as soon as he and she have +definitely made up their minds that they want to marry each other, it is +the immediate duty of the man to go to the girl's father or her guardian, +and ask his consent. If her father refuses, the engagement cannot exist. +The man must then try, through work or other proof of stability and +seriousness, to win the father's approval. Failing in that, the young +woman is faced with dismissing him or marrying in opposition to her +parents. There are, of course, unreasonable and obdurate parents, but it +is needless to point out that a young woman assumes a very great risk who +takes her future into her own hands and elopes. But even so, there is no +excuse for the most unfilial act of all--deception. The honorable young +woman who has made up her mind to marry in spite of her parents' +disapproval, announces to them, if she can, that on such and such a day +her wedding will take place. If this is impossible, she at least refuses +to give her word that she will not marry. The height of dishonor is to +"give her word" and then break it. + + +=THE APPROVED ENGAGEMENT= + +Usually, however, when the young man enters the study or office of her +father, the latter has a perfectly good idea of what he has come to say +and, having allowed his attentions, is probably willing to accept his +daughter's choice; and the former after announcing that the daughter has +accepted him, goes into details as to his financial standing and +prospects. If the finances are not sufficiently stable, the father may +tell him to wait for a certain length of time before considering himself +engaged, or if they are satisfactory to him, he makes no objection to an +immediate announcement. In either case, the man probably hurries to tell +the young woman what her father has said, and if he has been very +frequently at the house, very likely they both tell her mother and her +immediate family, or, more likely still, she has told her mother first of +all. + + +=HIS PARENTS CALL ON HERS= + +As soon as the young woman's father accepts the engagement, etiquette +demands that the parents of the bridegroom-elect call at once (within +twenty-four hours) upon the parents of the bride-to-be. If illness or +absence prevents one of them, the other must go alone. If the young man is +an orphan, his uncle, aunt or other nearest relative should go in the +parents' place. Not even deep mourning can excuse the failure to observe +this formality. + + +=THE ENGAGEMENT RING= + +It is doubtful if he who carries a solitaire ring enclosed in a little +square box and produces it from his pocket upon the instant that she says +"Yes," exists outside of the moving pictures! As a matter of fact, the +accepted suitor usually consults his betrothed's taste--which of course +may be gratified or greatly modified, according to the length of his +purse--or he may, without consulting her, buy what ring he chooses. A +solitaire diamond is the conventional emblem of "the singleness and +endurability of the one love in his life," and the stone is supposed to be +"pure and flawless" as the bride herself, and their future together--or +sentiments equally beautiful. There is also sentiment for a sapphire's +"depth of true blue." Pearls are supposed to mean tears; emeralds, +jealousy; opals, the essence of bad luck; but the ruby stands for warmth +and ardor: all of which it is needless to say is purest unfounded +superstition. + +In the present day, precious stones having soared far out of reach of all +but the really rich, fashion rather prefers a large semi-precious one to a +microscopic diamond. "Fashion," however, is merely momentary and local, +and the great majority will probably always consider a diamond the only +ring to have. + +It is not obligatory, or even customary, for the girl to give the man an +engagement present, but there is no impropriety in her doing so if she +wants to, and any of the following articles would be suitable: A pair of +cuff links, or waistcoat buttons, or a watch chain, or a key chain, or a +cigarette case. Probably because the giving of an engagement ring is his +particular province, she very rarely gives him a ring or, in fact, any +present at all. + +The engagement ring is worn for the first time "in public" on the day of +the announcement. + + +=BEFORE ANNOUNCEMENT= + +Usually a few days before the formal announcement--and still earlier for +letters written abroad or to distant States--both young people write to +their aunts, uncles, and cousins, and to their most intimate friends, of +their engagement, asking them not to tell anyone until the determined +date. + +As soon as they receive the news, all the relatives of the groom-elect +must call on the bride. She is not "welcomed by the family" until their +cards, left upon her in person, assure her so. She must, of course, return +all of these visits, and as soon as possible. + +If his people are in the habit of entertaining, they should very soon ask +her with her fiance to lunch or to dinner, or after the engagement is +publicly announced, give a dinner or tea or dance in her honor. If, on the +other hand, they are very quiet people, their calling upon her is +sufficient in itself to show their welcome. + +In case of a recent death in either immediate family, the engagement +cannot be publicly announced until the first period of mourning is past. +(It is entirely dignified for a private wedding to take place at the +bedside of a very ill parent, or soon after a deep bereavement. In that +case there is, of course, no celebration, and the service is read in the +presence of the immediate families only.) + +The announcement is invariably made by the parents of the bride-elect. It +is a breach of etiquette for a member of the young man's family to tell of +the engagement until the formal announcement has been arranged for. + + +=ANNOUNCEMENT OF ENGAGEMENT= + +On the evening before the day of the announcement, the bride's mother +either sends a note, or has some one call the various daily papers by +telephone, and says: "I am speaking for Mrs. John Huntington Smith. Mr. +and Mrs. Smith are announcing the engagement of their daughter, Mary, to +Mr. James Smartlington, son of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Brown Smartlington, of +2000 Arcade Avenue." + +If either the Huntington Smiths or the Arthur Smartlingtons are socially +prominent, reporters will be sent to get further information. Photographs +and details, such as entertainments to be given, or plans for the wedding, +will probably be asked for. The prejudices of old-fashioned people against +giving personal news to papers is rapidly being overcome and not even the +most conservative any longer object to a dignified statement of facts, +such as Mrs. Smith's telephone message. + +It is now considered entirely good form to give photographs to magazines +and newspapers, but one should never send them unless specially +requested. + +On the eve of the announcement, a dinner is sometimes given by the young +girl's parents, and the news is told by her father, who at about salad +course or dessert, proposes the health of his daughter and future +son-in-law. + + +=HOW A HEALTH IS PROPOSED= + +The host after directing that all glasses at the table be filled, rises, +lifts his own glass and says: "I propose we drink to the health of my +daughter Mary and the young man she has decided to add permanently to our +family, James Smartlington." + +Or: + + "A standing toast: To my Mary and to her--Jim!" + +Or: + +"I want you to drink the happiness of a young pair whose future welfare is +close to the hearts of all of us: Mary (holding up his glass and looking +at her) and Jim!" (holding it up again and looking at him). Every one +except Mary and Jim rises and drinks a swallow or two (of whatever the +champagne substitute may be). Every one then congratulates the young +couple, and Jim is called upon for a "speech"! + +Generally rather "fussed," Jim rises and says something like: +"I--er--we--thank you all very much indeed for all your good wishes," and +sits down. Or if he is an earnest rather than a shy youth, perhaps he +continues: "I don't have to tell you how lucky _I_ am, the thing for me to +do is to prove, if I can, that Mary has not made the mistake of her life +in choosing me, and I hope that it won't be very long before we see you +all at our own table with Mary at the head of it and I, where I belong, at +the foot." + +Or: + + "I can't make a speech and you know it. But I certainly am lucky + and I know it." + + +=WHEN NO SPEECH IS MADE= + +The prevailing custom in New York and other big cities is for the party to +be given on the afternoon or evening of the day of announcement. The +engagement in this case is never proclaimed to the guests as an assembled +audience. The news is "out" and everyone is supposed to have heard it. +Those who have not, can not long remain ignorant, as the groom-elect is +either receiving with his fiancee or brought forward by her father and +presented to every one he does not know. Everybody congratulates him and +offers the bride-to-be good wishes for her happiness. + +A dinner or other entertainment given to announce an engagement is by no +means necessary. "Quiet people" very often merely write notes of +announcement and say they will be at home on such an afternoon at tea +time. The form and detail are exactly the same as on an habitual day at +home except that the bride and groom-elect both receive as well as her +mother. + + +=PARTIES FOR THE ENGAGED COUPLE= + +If the families and friends of the young couple are at all in the habit of +entertaining, the announcement of an engagement is the signal always for a +shower of invitations. + +The parents of the groom-elect are sure to give a dance, or a "party" of +one kind or another "to meet" their daughter-to-be. If the engagement is a +short one, their life becomes a veritable dashing from this house to that, +and every meal they eat seems to be one given for them by some one. It is +not uncommon for a bride-elect to receive a few engagement presents. +(These are entirely apart from wedding presents which come later.) A small +afternoon teacup and saucer used to be the typical engagement gift, but it +has gone rather out of vogue, along with harlequin china in general. +Engagement presents are usually personal trifles sent either by her own +very intimate friends or by members of her fiance's family as especial +messages of welcome to hers--and as such are very charming. But any +general fashion that necessitates giving engagement as well as wedding +presents may well be looked upon with alarm by those who have only +moderately filled pocketbooks! + + +=ENGAGED COUPLE IN PUBLIC= + +There is said to be still preserved somewhere in Massachusetts a +whispering reed through the long hollow length of which lovers were wont +to whisper messages of tenderness to each other while separated by a +room's length and the inevitable chaperonage of the fiancee's entire +family. + +From those days to these is a far cry, but even in this era of liberty and +naturalness of impulse, running the gauntlet of people's attention and +criticism is no small test of the good taste and sense of a young couple. + +The hall-mark of so-called "vulgar people" is unrestricted display of +uncontrolled emotions. No one should ever be made to feel like withdrawing +in embarrassment from the over-exposed privacy of others. The shrew who +publicly berates her husband is no worse than the engaged pair who snuggle +in public. Every one supposes that lovers kiss each other, but people of +good taste wince at being forced to play audience at love scenes which +should be private. Furthermore, such cuddling gives little evidence of the +deeper caring--no matter how ardent the demonstration may be. + +Great love is seldom flaunted in public, though it very often shows itself +in pride--that is a little obvious, perhaps. There is a quality of +protectiveness in a man's expression as it falls on his betrothed, as +though she were so lovely a breath might break her; and in the eyes of a +girl whose love is really deep, there is always evidence of that most +beautiful look of championship, as though she thought: "No one else can +possibly know how wonderful he is!" + +This underlying tenderness and pride which is at the base of the attitude +of each, only glints beneath the surface of perfect comradeship. Their +frank approval of whatever the other may do or say is very charming; and +even more so is their obvious friendliness toward all people, of wanting +the whole world beautiful for all because it is so beautiful to them. That +is love--as it should be! And its evidence is a very sure sign-post +pointing to future happiness. + + +=ETIQUETTE OF ENGAGED PEOPLE= + +It is unnecessary to say that an engaged man shows no attention whatever +to other women. It should be plain to every one, even though he need not +behave like a moon-calf, that "one" is alone in his thoughts. + +Often it so happens that engaged people are very little together, because +he is away at work, or for other reasons. Rather than sit home alone, she +may continue to go out in society, which is quite all right, but she must +avoid being with any one man more than another and she should remain +visibly within the general circle of her group. It always gives gossip a +chance to see an engaged girl sitting out dances with any particular man, +and slander is never far away if any evidence of ardor creeps into their +regard, even if it be merely "manner," and actually mean nothing at all. + + +=IN THE BACKWATERS OF LONG ENGAGEMENT= + +Unless the engaged couple are both so young, or by temperament so +irresponsible, that their parents think it best for them to wait until +time is given a chance to prove the stability of their affection, no one +can honestly advocate a long-delayed marriage. + +Where there is no money, it is necessary to wait for better finances. But +the old argument that a long engagement was wise in that the young couple +were given opportunity to know each other better, has little sense to-day +when all young people know each other thoroughly well. + +A long engagement is trying to everyone--the man, the girl, both +families, and all friends. It is an unnatural state, like that of waiting +at the station for a train, and in a measure it is time wasted. The minds +of the two most concerned are centered upon each other; to them life seems +to consist in saying the inevitable good-by. + +Her family think her absent-minded, distrait, aloof and generally useless. +His family never see him. Their friends are bored to death with them--not +that they are really less devoted or loyal, but her men friends withdraw, +naturally refraining from "breaking in." He has no time between business +and going to see her to stop at his club or wherever friends of his may +be. Her girl friends do see her in the daytime, but gradually they meet +less and less because their interests and hers no longer focus in common. +Gradually the stream of the social world goes rushing on, leaving the two +who are absorbed in each other to drift forgotten in a backwater. He works +harder, perhaps, than ever, and she perhaps occupies herself in making +things for her trousseau or her house, or otherwise preparing for the more +contented days which seem so long in coming. + +Once they are married, they no longer belong in a backwater, but find +themselves again sailing in midstream. It may be on a slow-moving current, +it may be on a swift,--but their barge sails in common with all other +craft on the river of life. + + +_Should a Long Engagement Be Announced?_ + +Whether to announce an engagement that must be of long duration is not a +matter of etiquette but of personal preference. On the general principle +that frankness is always better than secretiveness, the situation is +usually cleared by announcing it. On the other hand, as illustrated above, +the certain knowledge of two persons' absorption in each other always +creates a marooned situation. When it is only supposed, but not known, +that a man and girl particularly like each other, their segregation is not +nearly so marked. + + +=MEETING OF KINSMEN= + +At some time before the wedding, it is customary for the two families to +meet each other. That is, the parents of the groom dine or lunch at the +house of the parents of the bride to meet the aunts, uncles and cousins. +And then the parents of the bride are asked with the same purpose to the +house of the groom-elect. + +It is not necessary that any intimacy ensue, but it is considered fitting +and proper that all the members of the families which are to be allied +should be given an opportunity to know one another--at least by sight. + + +=THE ENGAGED COUPLE AND THE CHAPERON= + +The question of a chaperon differs with locality. In Philadelphia and +Baltimore, custom permits any young girl to go alone with a young man +approved by her family to the theater, or to be seen home from a party. In +New York or Boston, Mrs. Grundy would hold up her hands and run to the +neighbors at once with the gossip. + +It is perhaps sufficient to say that if a man is thought worthy to be +accepted by a father as his daughter's husband, he should also be +considered worthy of trust no matter where he finds himself alone with +her. It is not good form for an engaged couple to dine together in a +restaurant, but it is all right for them to lunch, or have afternoon tea; +and few people would criticize their being at the opera or the +theater--unless the performance at the latter was of questionable +propriety. They should take a chaperon if they motor to road-houses for +meals--and it goes without saying that they cannot go on a journey alone +that can possibly last over night. + + +=GIFTS WHICH MAY AND THOSE WHICH MAY NOT BE ACCEPTED= + +The fiancee of a young man who is "saving in order to marry," would be +lacking in taste as well as good sense were she to encourage or allow him +extravagantly to send her flowers and other charming, but wasteful, +presents. But on the other hand, if the bridegroom-elect has plenty of +means, she may not only accept flowers but anything he chooses to select, +except wearing apparel or a motor car or a house and furniture--anything +that can be classified as "maintenance." + +It is perfectly suitable for her to drive his car, or ride his horse, and +she may select furniture for their house, which he may buy or have built. +But, if she would keep her self-respect, the car must not become hers nor +must she live in the house or use its furniture until she is given his +name. He may give her all the jewels he can afford, he may give her a fur +scarf, but not a fur coat. The scarf is an ornament, the coat is wearing +apparel. If she is very poor, she may have to be married in cheese-cloth, +or even in the dress she wears usually, but her wedding dress and the +clothes she wears away, must not be supplied by the groom or his family. +There is one exception: if his mother, for instance, has some very +wonderful family lace, or has kept her own wedding dress and has no +daughter herself, and it would please her to have her son's wife wear her +lace or dress, it is proper for the bride to consent. But it would be +starting life on a false basis, and putting herself in a category with +women of another class, to be clothed by any man, whether he is soon to be +her husband or not. + +If the engagement should be so unfortunate as to be broken off, the +engagement ring and all other gifts of value must be returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +FIRST PREPARATIONS BEFORE A WEDDING + + +To begin with, before deciding the date of the wedding, the bride's mother +must find out definitely on which day the clergyman who is to perform the +ceremony is disengaged, and make sure that the church is bespoken for no +other service. If it is to be an important wedding, she must also see that +the time available for the church is also convenient to the caterer. + +Sundays, and days in Lent, are not chosen for weddings, and Friday being a +"fast" day in Catholic and very "high" Episcopal churches, weddings on +that day, if not forbidden, are never encouraged. But the superstition +that Friday and the month of May are unlucky, is too stupid to discuss. + +Having settled upon a day and hour, the next step is to decide the number +of guests that can be provided for, which is determined by the size of the +church and the house, and the type of reception intended. + + +=THE INVITATIONS= + +The bride-elect and her mother then go to the stationer and decide +details, such as size and texture of paper and style of engraving, for the +invitations. The order is given at once for the engraving of all the +necessary plates, and probably for the full number of house invitations, +especially if to a sit-down breakfast where the guests are limited. There +are also ordered a moderate number of general church invitations or +announcements, which can be increased later when the lists are completed +and the definite number of guests more accurately known. + + +=HER MOTHER CONSULTS HIS MOTHER= + +The bride's mother then consults with the groom, or more likely, with his +mother, as to how the house-list is to be divided between them. This never +means a completely doubled list, because, if the two families live in the +same city, many names are sure to be in duplicate. If the groom's people +live in another place, invitations to the house can be liberally sent, as +the proportion of guests who will take a long trip seldom go beyond those +of the immediate family and such close friends as would be asked to the +smallest of receptions. + +Usually if Mrs. Smith tells Mrs. Smartlington that two hundred can be +included at the breakfast, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Smartlington will each make +a list of one hundred and fifty, certain that one hundred will be in +duplicate. + +Invitations to a big church wedding are always sent to the entire visiting +list, and often the business acquaintances of both families, no matter how +long the combined number may be, or whether they can by any chance be +present or not. Even people in deep mourning are included as well as those +who live thousands of miles away, as the invitations not merely proffer +hospitality but are messengers carrying the news of the marriage. + +After a house wedding, or a private ceremony where invitations were +limited to relatives and closest personal friends of the young couple, +general announcements are sent out to the entire visiting list. + + +=HOW THE WEDDING LIST IS COMPILED= + +Those who keep their visiting list in order have comparatively little +work. But those who are not in the habit of entertaining on a general +scale, and yet have a large unassorted visiting list, will have quite a +piece of work ahead of them, and cannot begin making it soon enough. + +In the cities where a Social Register or other Visiting Book is published, +people of social prominence find it easiest to read it through, marking +"XX" in front of the names to be asked to the house, and another mark, +such as a dash, in front of those to be asked to the church only, or to +have announcements sent them. Other names which do not appear in the +printed list may be written as "thought of" at the top or bottom of pages. +In country places and smaller cities, or where a published list is not +available, or of sufficient use, the best assistant is the telephone book. + +List-making should be done over as long a period and for as short sessions +as possible, in order that each name as it is read may bring to memory any +other that is similar. Long reading at a time robs the repetition of names +of all sense, so that nothing is easier than to pass over the name of a +friend without noticing it. + +A word of warning: To leave out old friends because they are neither rich +nor fashionable and to include comparative strangers because they are of +great social importance, not alone shows a want of loyalty and proper +feeling, but is to invite the contempt of those very ones whom such +snobbery seeks to propitiate. + +Four lists, therefore, are combined in sending out wedding invitations; +the bride and the groom make one each of their own friends, to which is +added the visiting list of the bride's family (made out by her mother, or +other near relative) and the visiting list of the groom's family made out +by his mother, or a relative. Each name is clearly marked, of course, +whether for "house" or "church" invitation. + +When the four lists are completed, it is the duty of some one to arrange +them into a single one by whatever method seems most expedient. When lists +are very long, the compiling is usually done by a professional secretary, +who also addresses the envelopes, encloses the proper number of cards, and +seals, stamps and posts the invitations. The address of a professional +secretary can always be furnished by the stationer. Very often, especially +where lists do not run into inordinate length, the envelopes are addressed +and the invitations sent out by the bride herself and some of her friends +who volunteer to help her. + + +=THE MOST ELABORATE WEDDING POSSIBLE= + +This is the huge wedding of the daughter of ultra rich and prominent +people in a city such as New York, or, more probably, a high-noon wedding +out of town. The details would in either case he the same, except that the +"country setting" makes necessary the additional provision of a special +train which takes the guests to a station where they are met by dozens of +motors and driven to the church. Later they are driven to the house, and +later again, to the returning special train. + +Otherwise, whether in the city or the country, the church (if Protestant) +is decorated with masses of flowers in some such elaborateness as +standards, or arches, or hanging garlands in the church itself, as well as +the floral embellishment of the chancel. The service is conducted by a +bishop or other distinguished clergyman, with assistant clergymen, and +accompanied by a full choral service, possibly with the addition of a +celebrated opera soloist. The costumes of the bride and her maids are +chosen with painstaking attention to perfection, and with seeming +disregard of cost. + +Later, at the house, there is not only a floral bower under which the +bridal couple receive, but every room has been turned into a veritable +woodland or garden, so massed are the plants and flowers. An orchestra--or +two, so that the playing may be without intermission--is hidden behind +palms in the hall or wherever is most convenient. A huge canopied platform +is built on the lawn or added to the veranda (or built out over the yard +of a city house), and is decorated to look like an enclosed formal garden. +It is packed with small tables, each seating four, six, or eight, as the +occasion may require. + + +=THE AVERAGE FASHIONABLE WEDDING= + +The more usual fashionable wedding is merely a modification of the one +outlined above. The chancel of the church is decorated exactly the same, +but except in summer when garden flowers are used, there is very little +attempted in the body of the church other than sprays of flowers at the +ends of the ten to twenty reserved pews, or possibly only at the ends of +the first two pews and the two that mark the beginning of the ribboned +section. There is often a choral service and a distinguished officiating +clergyman. The costumes of bride and bridesmaids are usually the same in +effect, though they may be less lavish in detail. + +The real difference begins at the breakfast, where probably a hundred +guests are invited, or two hundred at most, instead of from five hundred +to a thousand, and except for the canopied background against which the +bride and groom receive, there is very little floral decoration of the +house. If a tent is built, it is left as it is--a tent--with perhaps some +standard trees at intervals to give it a decorated appearance. The tables, +even that of the bride, their garniture, the service, and the food are all +precisely the same, the difference being in the smaller number of guests +provided for. + + +=A SMALL WEDDING= + +A small wedding is merely a further modification of the two preceding +ones. Let us suppose it is a house wedding in a moderate-sized house. + +A prayer bench has been placed at the end of the drawing-room or +living-room. Back of it is a screen or bower of palms or other greens. One +decoration thus serves for chancel and background at the reception. A +number of small tables in the dining-room may seat perhaps twenty or even +fifty guests, besides the bride's table placed in another room. If the +bride has no attendants, she and the groom choose a few close friends to +sit at the table with them. Or, at a smaller wedding, there is a private +marriage in a little chapel, or the clergyman reads the service at the +house of the bride in the presence of her parents and his and a small +handful of guests, who all sit down afterwards at one table for a wedding +breakfast. + +Or there may be a greater number of guests and a simpler collation, such +as a stand-up afternoon tea, where the refreshments are sandwiches, cakes, +tea and chocolate. + + +=BREACH OF ETIQUETTE FOR GROOM TO GIVE WEDDING= + +No matter whether a wedding is to be large or tiny, there is one +unalterable rule: the reception must be either at the house of the bride's +parents or grandparents or other relative of hers, or else in assembly +rooms rented by her family. Never under any circumstances should a wedding +reception be given at the house of the groom's family. They may give a +ball or as many entertainments of whatever description they choose for the +young couple after they are married, but the wedding breakfast and the +trousseau of the bride must be furnished by her own side of the house! + +When a poor girl marries, her wedding must be in keeping with the means of +her parents. It is not only inadvisable for them to attempt expenditure +beyond what they can afford, but they would lay themselves open to far +greater criticism through inappropriate lavishness, than through +meagerness of arrangement--which need not by any means lack charm because +inexpensive. + + +=WEDDING OF A CINDERELLA= + +Some years ago there was a wedding when a girl who was poor married a man +who was rich and who would gladly have given her anything she chose, the +beauty of which will be remembered always by every witness in spite of, or +maybe because of, its utter lack of costliness. + +It was in June in the country. The invitations were by word of mouth to +neighbors and personal notes to the groom's relatives at a distance. The +village church was decorated by the bride, her younger sisters, and some +neighbors, with dogwood, than which nothing is more bridelike or +beautiful. The shabbiness of her father's little cottage was smothered +with flowers and branches cut in a neighboring wood. Her dress, made by +herself, was of tarlatan covered with a layer or two of tulle, and her +veil was of tulle fastened with a spray, as was her girdle, of natural +bridal wreath and laurel leaves. Her bouquet was of trailing bridal wreath +and white lilacs. She was very young, and divinely beautiful, and fresh +and sweet. The tulle for her dress and veil and her thin silk stockings +and white satin slippers represented the entire outlay of any importance +for her costume. A little sister in smock of pink sateen and a wreath and +tight bouquet of pink laurel clusters, toddled after her and "held" her +bouquet--after first laying her own on the floor! + +The collation was as simple as the dresses of the bride and bridesmaid. A +home-made wedding cake, "professionally" iced and big enough for every one +to take home a thick slice in waxed paper piled near for the purpose, and +a white wine cup, were the most "pretentious" offerings. Otherwise there +were sandwiches, hot biscuits, cocoa, tea and coffee, scrambled eggs and +bacon, ice cream and cookies, and the "music" was a victrola, loaned for +the occasion. The bride's "going away" dress was of brown Holland linen +and her hat a plain little affair as simple as her dress; again her only +expenditure was on shoes, stockings and gloves. Later on, she had all the +clothes that money could buy, but in none of them was she ever more lovely +than in her fashionless wedding dress of tarlatan and tulle, and the plain +little frock in which she drove away. Nor are any of the big parties that +she gives to-day more enjoyable, though perfect in their way, than her +wedding on a June day, a number of years ago. + + +=THE WEDDING HOUR= + +The fashionable wedding hour in New York is either noon, or else in the +afternoon at three, three-thirty or four o'clock, with the reception +always a half hour later. High noon, which means that the breakfast is at +one o'clock, and four o'clock in the afternoon, with the reception at half +after, are the conventional hours. + + +=THE EVENING WEDDING= + +In San Francisco and generally throughout the West altogether smart +weddings are celebrated at nine o'clock in the evening. The details are +precisely the same as those of morning or afternoon. The bride and +bridesmaids wear dresses that are perhaps more elaborate and "evening" in +model, and the bridegroom as well as all men present wear evening clothes, +of course. If the ceremony is in a church, the women should wear wraps +and an ornament or light scarf of some sort over their hair, as ball +dresses are certainly not suitable, besides which church regulations +forbid the uncovering of women's heads in consecrated places of worship. + + +=THE MORNING WEDDING= + +To some, nine o'clock in the morning may sound rather eccentric for a +wedding, but to people of the Atlantic Coast it is not a bit more so than +an evening hour--less so, if anything, because morning is unconventional +anyway and etiquette, never being very strong at that hour, is not defied, +but merely left quiescent. + +If, for any reason, such as taking an early morning train or ship--an +early morning wedding might be a good suggestion. The bride should, of +course, not wear satin and lace; she could wear organdie (let us hope the +nine o'clock wedding is in summer!), or she could wear very simple white +crepe de chine. Her attendants could wear the simplest sort of morning +dresses with garden hats; the groom a sack suit or flannels. And the +breakfast--really breakfast--could consist of scrambled eggs and bacon and +toast and coffee--and griddle cakes! + +The above is not written in ridicule; the hour would be "unusual," but a +simple early morning wedding where every one is dressed in morning +clothes, and where the breakfast suggests the first meal of the day--could +be perfectly adorable! The evening wedding on the other hand, lays itself +open to criticism because it is a function--a function is formal, and the +formal is always strictly in the province of that austere and inflexible +lawmaker, Etiquette. And Etiquette at this moment says: "Weddings on the +Atlantic seaboard are celebrated not later than four-thirty o'clock in the +afternoon!" + + +=WEDDING PRESENTS= + +And now let us return to the more particular details of the wedding of our +especial bride. + +The invitations are mailed about three weeks before the wedding. As soon +as they are out, the presents to the bride begin coming in, and she +should enter each one carefully in her gift book. There are many published +for the purpose, but an ordinary blank book, nicely bound, as she will +probably want to keep it, about eight to ten inches square, will answer +every purpose. The usual model spreads across the double page, as follows: + +_Present Date of +received Sender's Where thanks +date Article Sent by Address Bought written_ +May 20 Silver Dish Mr. and Mrs. White 1 Elinore Place Tiffany's May 20 +May 21 12 Plates Mr. and Mrs. Green 2 North Street Collamore's May 21 + +All gifts as they arrive should be put in a certain room, or part of a +room, and never moved away until the description is carefully entered. It +will be found a great help to put down the addresses of donors as well as +their names so that the bride may not have to waste an unnecessary moment +of the overcrowded time which must be spent at her desk. + + +=THE BRIDE'S THANKS= + +The bride who is happy in receiving a great number of presents spends +every spare moment in writing her notes of thanks, which must always be +written by her personally. Telephoning won't do at all, and neither will a +verbal "Thank you so much," as she meets people here and there. She must +write a separate letter for each present--a by no means small undertaking! +A bride of this year whose presents, because of her family's great +prominence, ran far into the hundreds, never went to bed a single night +before her wedding until a note of thanks was checked against every +present received that day. To those who offered to help her through her +overwhelming task, she, who is supposed to be very spoiled, answered: "If +people are kind enough to go out and buy a present for me, I think the +least I can do is to write at once and thank them." That her effort was +appreciated was evident by everyone's commenting on her prompt and +charming notes. + +Notes of thanks can be very short, but they should be written with as +little delay as possible. When a present is sent by a married couple, the +bride writes to the wife and thanks both: "Thank you for the lovely +present you and Mr. Jones sent me." + + +=ARRANGING THE PRESENTS= + +Not so much in an effort to parade her possessions as to do justice to the +kindness of the many people who have sent them, a bride should show her +appreciation of their gifts by placing each one in the position of +greatest advantage. Naturally, all people's tastes are not equally +pleasing to the taste of the bride--nor are all pocketbooks equally +filled. Very valuable presents are better put in close contrast with +others of like quality--or others entirely different in character. Colors +should be carefully grouped. Two presents, both lovely in themselves, can +be made completely destructive to each other if the colors are allowed to +clash. + +Usually china is put on one table, silver on another, glass on another, +laces and linens on another. But pieces that jar together must be +separated as far apart as possible and perhaps even moved to other +surroundings. A crudely designed piece of silverware should not be left +among beautiful examples, but be put among china ornaments, or other +articles that do not reveal its lack of fineness by too direct comparison. +For the same reason imitation lace should not be put next to real, nor +stone-ware next to Chinese porcelain. To group duplicates is another +unfortunate arrangement. Eighteen pairs of pepper pots or fourteen +sauce-boats in a row might as well be labeled: "Look at this stupidity! +What can she do with all of us?" They are sure to make the givers feel at +least a little chagrined at their choice. + + +=CARDS WITH PRESENTS= + +When Mrs. Smith orders a present sent to a bride, she encloses a card +reading: "Mr. & Mrs. John Huntington Smith." Nearly every married woman +has a plate engraved with both names, but if she hasn't, then she encloses +Mr. Smith's card with hers. + +Some people write "All good wishes" or "With best wishes," but most people +send cards without messages. + + +=DELAYED PRESENTS= + +If because of illness or absence, a present is not sent until after the +wedding, a short note should accompany it, giving the reason for the +delay. + + +=WHEN THE PRESENTS ARE SHOWN= + +There is absolutely no impropriety in showing the presents at the wedding +reception. They are always shown at country weddings, and, more often than +not, at the most fashionable town houses. The only reason for not showing +them, is lack of room in an apartment house. In a town house, an up-stairs +library, or even a bedroom, from which all the furniture has been removed, +is suitable. Tables covered with white damask (plain) tablecloths are put +like counters around the sides, and down the center of the room. The cards +that were sent with the gifts are sometimes removed, but there is no +impropriety in leaving them on, and it certainly saves members of the +family from repeating many times who sent this one, and who sent that! + +If the house is small so that there is no room available for this display +at the wedding, the presents are shown on the day before, and intimate +friends are especially asked to come in for tea, and to view them. This is +not done if they are to be displayed at the wedding. + +Very intimate friends seldom need to be asked; the chances are they will +come in often, to see what has come since they were in last! + +Wedding presents are all sent to the bride, and are, according to law, her +personal property. Articles are marked with her present--not her +future--initials. Mary Smith who is going to marry Jim Smartlington is +fortunate as M.S. stands for her future as well as her present name. But +in the case of Muriel Jones who is to marry Ross, not a piece of linen or +silver in "Ross house" will be marked otherwise than "M.J." It is one of +the most senseless customs: all her life which will be as Muriel Ross, she +uses linen and silver marked with a "J." Later on many people who go to +her house--especially as Ross comes from California where she will +naturally be living--will not know what "J" stands for, and many even +imagine that the linen and plate have been acquired at auction! Sounds +impossible? It has happened more than once. + +Occasional brides who dislike the confusing initials, especially ask that +presents be marked with their marriage name. + +The groom receives few presents. Even those who care about him in +particular and have never met his bride, send their present to her, unless +they send two presents, one in courtesy to her and one in affection to +him. Occasionally some one does send the groom a present, addressed to him +and sent to his house. Rather often friends of the groom pick out things +particularly suitable for him, such as cigar or cigarette boxes, or rather +masculine looking desk sets, etc., which are sent to her but are obviously +intended for his use. + + +=EXCHANGING WEDDING PRESENTS= + +Some people think it discourteous if a bride changes the present chosen +for her. All brides exchange some presents, and no friends should allow +their feelings to be hurt, unless they are very close to the bride and +have chosen the present with particular sentiment. A bride never changes +the presents chosen for her by her or the groom's family--unless +especially told that she may do so. But to keep twenty-two salt cellars +and sixteen silver trays when she has no pepper-pots or coffee spoons or +platters or vegetable dishes, would be putting "sentiment" above "sense." + + +=THE TROUSSEAU= + +A trousseau, according to the derivation of the word, was "a little trusse +or bundle" that the bride carried with her to the house of her husband. In +modern times, the "little bundle" often requires the services of a van to +transport. + +The wrappers and underclothes of a young girl are usually very simple, but +when she is to be a bride, her mother buys her, as lavishly as she can, +and of the prettiest possible assortment of lace trimmed lingerie, tea +gowns, bed sacques and caps, whatever may be thought especially becoming. +The various undress garments which are to be worn in her room or at the +breakfast table, and for the sole admiration of her husband, are of far +greater importance than the dresses and hats to be worn in public. + +In Europe it is the custom to begin collecting linen for a girl's +trousseau as soon as she is born, but the American bride cares nothing for +dozens upon dozens of stout linen articles. She much prefers gossamer +texture lavishly embellished with equally perishable lace. Everything must +be bought for beauty; utility is not considered at all. No stout +hand-woven underwear trimmed with solidly stitched needlework! Modern Miss +Millions demands handkerchief linen and Valenciennes lace of a quality +that used to be put as trimming on a ball gown, and Miss Smallpurse asks +for chiffon and less expensive but even more sheer and perishable laces. +Not long ago a stocking was thought fine if it could be run through a +wedding ring; to-day no stocking is considered "fit to put on" for town or +evening wear unless several together can slip through the measure once the +test for one. + + +=THE MOST EXTRAVAGANT TROUSSEAU= + +The most lavish trousseau imaginable for the daughter of the very rich +might be supposed to comprise: + + +_House Linen_ + +One to six dozen finest quality embroidered or otherwise "trimmed" linen +sheets with large embroidered monogram. + +One to six dozen finest quality linen sheets, plain hemstitched, large +monogram. + +One to six dozen finest quality linen under-sheets, narrow hem and small +monogram. + +Two pillow cases and also one "little" pillow case (for small down pillow) +to match each upper sheet. + +One to two dozen blanket covers (these are of thin washable silk in white +or in colors to match the rooms) edged with narrow lace and breadths put +together with lace insertion. + +Six to twelve blankets. + +Three to twelve wool or down-filled quilts. + +Two to ten dozen finest quality, extra large, face towels, with Venetian +needlework or heavy hand-made lace insertion (or else embroidered at each +end), and embroidered monogram. + +Five to ten dozen finest quality hemstitched and monogrammed but otherwise +plain, towels. + +Five to ten dozen little hand towels to match the large ones. + +One to two dozen very large bath towels, with embroidered monogram, either +white or in color to match the border of towels. + +Two to four dozen smaller towels to match. + +One tablecloth, six or eight yards long, of finest but untrimmed damask +with embroidered monogram on each side, or four corners. Three dozen +dinner napkins to match. (Lace inserted and richly embroidered tablecloths +of formal dinner size are not in the best taste.) + +One tablecloth five to six yards long with two dozen dinner napkins to +match. + +One to four dozen damask tablecloths two and a half to three yards long, +and one dozen dinner napkins to match each tablecloth. All tablecloths and +napkins to have embroidered monogram or initials. + +Two to six medium sized cut-work, mosaic or Italian lace-work tablecloths, +with lunch napkins to match. + +Two to six centerpieces, with doilies and lunch napkins to match. + +Four to a dozen tea cloths, of filet lace or drawn work or Russian +embroidery, with tiny napkins to match. Table pieces and tea-cloths have +monograms if there is any plain linen where a monogram can be embroidered, +otherwise monograms or initials are put on the napkins only. + +One or two dozen damask tablecloths, plain, with monogram, and a dozen +napkins to match each. + +In addition to the above, there are two to four dozen servants' sheets +and pillow cases (cotton); six to twelve woolen blankets, six to twelve +wool filled quilts, four to six dozen towels, and one or two dozen bath +towels; six to twelve white damask (cotton or linen and cotton mixed) +tablecloths and six to twelve dozen napkins, all marked with machine +embroidery. + +Two to six dozen kitchen and pantry towels and dishcloths complete the +list. + + +_Personal Trousseau_ + +How many dresses can a bride wear? It all depends--is she to be in a big +city for the winter season, or at a watering place for the summer? Is she +going to travel, or live quietly in the country? It is foolish to get more +"outside" clothes than she has immediate use for; fashions change too +radically. The most extravagant list for a bride who is to "go out" +continually in New York or Newport, would perhaps include a dozen evening +dresses, two or three evening wraps, of varying weights. For town there +would be from two to four street costumes, a fur coat, another long coat, +a dozen hats and from four to ten house dresses. In this day of week-ends +in the country, no trousseau, no matter how town-bred the bride, is +complete without one or two "country" coats, of fur, leather or woolen +materials; several homespun, tweed or tricot suits or dresses; skirts with +shirt-waists and sweaters in endless variety; low or flat heeled shoes; +woolen or woolen and silk mixture stockings; and sport hats. + +If the season is to be spent "out of town"--even in Newport or Palm +Beach--the most extravagant bride will find little use for any but country +clothes, a very few frocks for Sunday, and possibly a lot of evening +dresses. Of course, if she expects to run to town a great deal for lunch, +or if she is to travel, she chooses her clothes accordingly. + +So much for the outer things. On the subject of the under things, which +being of first importance are saved for the last, one can dip into any of +the women's magazines devoted to fashion and fashionables, and understand +at first sight that the furnishings which may be put upon the person of +one young female would require a catalogue as long and as varied as a +seedsman's. An extravagant trousseau contains every article +illustrated--and more besides--in quality _never_ illustrated--and by the +dozens! But it must not for a moment be supposed that every fashionable +bride has a trousseau like this--especially the household linen which +requires an outlay possible only to parents who are very rich and also +very indulgent. + + +=THE MODERATE TROUSSEAU= + +The moderate trousseau simple cuts the above list into a fraction in +quantity and also in quality. There is nothing of course that takes the +place of the smooth fineness of really beautiful linen--it can no more be +imitated than can a diamond, and its value is scarcely less. The "linen" +of a really modest trousseau in this day of high prices must of necessity +be "cotton." Fortunately, however, many people dislike the chill of linen +sheets, and also prefer cotton-face towels, because they absorb better, +and cotton is made in attractive designs and in endless variety. + +For her personal trousseau, a bride can have everything that is charming +and becoming at comparatively little expense. She who knows how to do fine +sewing can make things beautiful enough for any one, and the dress made or +hat trimmed at home is often quite as pretty on a lovely face and figure +as the article bought at exorbitant cost at an establishment of +reputation. Youth seldom needs expensive embellishment. Certain things +such as footwear and gloves have to be bought, and are necessary. The +cost, however, can be modified by choosing dresses that one-color slippers +look well with. + +In cities such as New York, Washington or Boston, it has never been +considered very good taste to make a formal display of the trousseau. A +bride may show an intimate friend or two a few of her things, but her +trousseau is never spread out on exhibition. There can, however, be no +objection to her so doing, if it is the custom of the place in which she +lives. + + +=WHAT THE BRIDESMAIDS WEAR= + +The costumes of the bridesmaids, slippers, stockings, dresses, bouquets, +gloves and hats, are selected by the bride, without considering or even +consulting them as to their taste or preferences. The bridesmaids are +always dressed exactly alike as to texture of materials and model of +making, but sometimes their dresses differ in color. For instance, two of +them may wear pale blue satin slips covered with blue chiffon and cream +lace fichus, and cream-colored "picture" hats trimmed with orchids. The +next two wear orchid dresses, cream fichus, and cream hats trimmed with +pale blue hydrangeas. The maid of honor likewise wears the same model, but +her dress is pink chiffon over pink satin and her cream hat is trimmed +with both orchids and hydrangeas. The bouquets would all be alike of +orchids and hydrangeas. Their gloves all alike of cream-colored suede, and +their slippers, blue, orchid, and pink, with stockings to match. Usually +the bridesmaids are all alike in color as well as outline, and the maid of +honor exactly the same but in reverse colors. Supposing the bridesmaids to +wear pink dresses with blue sashes and pink hats trimmed in blue, and +their bouquets are of larkspur--the maid of honor wears the same dress in +blue, with pink sash, blue hat trimmed with pink, and carries pink roses. + +At Lucy Gilding's wedding, her bridesmaids were dressed in deep shades of +burnt orange and yellow, wood-colored slippers and stockings, skirts that +shaded from brown through orange to yellow; yellow leghorn hats trimmed +with jonquils, and jonquil bouquets. The maid of honor wore yellow running +into cream, and her hat, the of the same shape of leghorn, was trimmed +with cream feathers, and she carried a huge cream feather fan. + +As in the case of the wedding dress, it is foolish to enter into +descriptions of clothes more than to indicate that they are of light and +fragile materials, more suitable to evening than to daytime. Flower girls +and pages are dressed in quaint old-fashioned dresses and suits of satin +with odd old-fashioned bonnets--or whatever the bride fancies as being +especially "picturesque." + +If a bridesmaid is in mourning, she wears colors on that one day, as +bridesmaids' dresses are looked upon as uniforms, not individual costumes. +Nor does she put a black band on her arm. A young girl in deepest mourning +should not be a bridesmaid--unless at the very private wedding of a bride +or groom also in mourning. In this case she would most likely be the only +attendant and wear all white. + +As a warning against the growing habit of artifice, it may not be out of +place to quote one commentary made by a man of great distinction who, +having seen nothing of the society of very young people for many years, +"had to go" to the wedding of a niece. It was one of the biggest weddings +of the spring season in New York. The flowers were wonderful, the +bridesmaids were many and beautiful, the bride lovely. Afterwards the +family talked long about the wedding, but the distinguished uncle said +nothing. Finally, he was asked point blank: "Don't you think the wedding +was too lovely? Weren't the bridesmaids beautiful?" + +"No," said the uncle, "I did not think it was lovely at all. Every one of +the bridesmaids was so powdered and painted that there was not a sweet or +fresh face among them--I can see a procession just like them any evening +on the musical comedy stage! One expects make-up in a theater, but in the +house of God it is shocking!" + +It is unnecessary to add--if youth, the most beautiful thing in the world, +would only appreciate how beautiful it is, and how opposite is the false +bloom that comes in boxes and bottles! Shiny noses, colorless lips, sallow +skins hide as best they may, and with some excuse, behind powder or +lip-stick; but to rouge a rose--! + + +=THE COST OF BEING A BRIDESMAID= + +With the exception of parasols, or muffs or fans, which are occasionally +carried in place of bouquets and presented by the bride, every article +worn by the bridesmaids, flower girls or pages, although chosen by the +bride, must be paid for by the wearers. + +It is perhaps an irrefutable condemnation of the modern wedding display +that many a young girl has had to refuse the joy of being in the wedding +party because a complete bridesmaid outfit costs a sum that parents of +moderate means are quite unable to meet for popular daughters. And it is +seldom that the bride is herself in a position to give six or eight +complete costumes, much as she may want all of her most particular friends +with her on her day of days. Very often a bride tries especially to choose +clothes that will not be expensive, but New York prices are New York +prices, and the chic which is to make the wedding a perfect picture is the +thing of all others that has to be paid for. + +Even though one particular girl may be able to dress herself very smartly +in homemade clothes of her own design and making, those same clothes +duplicated eight times seldom turn out well. Why this is so, is a mystery. +When a girl looks smart in inferior clothes, the merit is in her, not in +the clothes--and in a group of six or eight, five or seven will show a +lack of "finish," and the tender-hearted bride who, for the sake of their +purses sends her bridesmaids to an average "little woman" to have their +clothes made, and to a little hat-place around the corner, is apt to have +a rather dowdy little flock fluttering down the aisle in front of her. + + +=HOW MANY BRIDESMAIDS?= + +This question is answered by: How many friends has she whom she has +"always promised" to have with her on that day? Has she a large circle of +intimates or only one or two? Her sister is always maid of honor; if she +has no sister, she chooses her most intimate friend. + +A bride may have a veritable procession: eight or ten bridesmaids, a maid +of honor, flower girls and pages. That is, if she follows the English +custom, where every younger relative even including the little boys as +pages, seems always to be brought into a perfect May-pole procession of +ragged ages and sizes. + +Or she may have none at all. She almost always has at least one maid, or +matron, of honor, as the picture of her father standing holding her +bouquet and stooping over to adjust the fall of her dress, would be +difficult to witness with gravity. + +At an average New York wedding, there are four or six bridesmaids--half of +the "maids" may be "matrons," if most of the bride's "group" of friends +have married before her. It is, however, not suitable to have young +married women as bridesmaids, and then have an unmarried girl as maid of +honor. + + +=BEST MAN AND USHERS= + +The bridegroom always has a best man--his brother if he has one, or his +best friend. The number of his ushers is in proportion to the size of the +church and the number of guests invited. At a house wedding, ushers are +often merely "honorary" and he may have many or none--according to the +number of his friends. + +As ushers and bridesmaids are chosen only from close friends of the bride +and groom, it is scarcely necessary to suggest how to word the asking! +Usually they are told that they are expected to serve at the time the +engagement is announced, or at any time as they happen to meet. If school +or college friends who live at a distance are among the number, letters +are necessary. Such as: + +"Mary and I are to be married on the tenth of November, and, of course, +you are to be an usher." Usually he adds: "My dinner is to be on the +seventh at eight o'clock at ----," naming the club or restaurant. + +It is unheard of for a man to refuse--unless a bridegroom, for snobbish +reasons, asks some one who is not really a friend at all. + + +=BRIDE'S USHER AND GROOM'S BRIDESMAID= + +A brother of the bride, or if she has no brother, then her "favorite +cousin" is always asked by the groom to be usher out of compliment to her. + +The bride returns the compliment by asking the sister of the groom who is +nearest her own age, to be bridesmaid, or if he has no sister, she asks a +cousin or even occasionally shows her courtesy by asking the groom to name +a particular friend of his. The bride in asking her does not say: + +"Will you be one of my bridesmaids because Jim wants me to ask you." If +the bridesmaid is not a particular friend of the bride, she knows +perfectly that it is on Jim's account that she has been asked. It is the +same with the bride's usher. The groom merely asks him as he asks all of +the others. + +When a foreigner marries an American girl, his own friends being too +distant to serve, the ushers are chosen from among the friends of the +bride. + + +=BRIDEGROOM HAS NO TROUSSEAU= + +A whole outfit of new clothes is never considered necessary for a +bridegroom, but shabby ones are scarcely appropriate. Whatever his +wardrobe may stand in need of should be bought, if possible. He should +have, not necessarily new, plenty of good shirts of all kinds, +handkerchiefs, underwear, pajamas, socks, ties, gloves, etc., and a +certain number of fresh, or as good as new, suits of clothes. + +There was a wedding not long ago which caused quite a lot of derisive +comment because the groom's mother provided him with a complete and +elaborate trousseau from London, enormous trunks full of every sort of +raiment imaginable. That part of it all was very nice; her mistake was in +inviting a group of friends in to see the finery. The son was so mortified +by this publicity that he appeared at the wedding in clothes conspicuously +shabby, in order to counteract the "Mama's-darling-little-newly-wed" +effect that the publicity of her generous outlay had produced. + +It is proper and fitting for a groom to have as many new clothes as he +needs, or pleases, or is able to get--but they are never shown to +indiscriminate audiences, they are not featured, and he does not go about +looking "dressed up." + + +=THE WEDDING CLOTHES OF THE BRIDEGROOM= + +If he does not already possess a well fitting morning coat (often called a +cutaway) he must order one for his wedding. The frock coat is out of +fashion at the moment. He must also have dark striped gray trousers. At +many smart weddings, especially in the spring, a groom (also his best +man) wears a white pique high double-breasted waistcoat, because the more +white that can be got into an otherwise sombre costume the more +wedding-like it looks; conventionally he wears a black one to match his +coat, like the ushers. The white edge to a black waistcoat is not, at +present, very good form. As to his tie, he may choose an "Ascot" of black +and white or gray patterned silk. Or he may wear a "four-in-hand" matching +those selected for the ushers, of black silk with a narrow single, or +broken white stripe at narrow or wide intervals. At one of the ultra smart +weddings in New York last spring, after the London fashion, the groom and +all the men of the wedding party wore bow ties of black silk with small +white dots. + +White buckskin gloves are the smartest, but gray suede are the most +conventional. White kid is worn only in the evening. It is even becoming +the fashion for ushers at small country weddings not to wear gloves at +all! But at every wedding, great or small, city or country, etiquette +demands that the groom, best man, and ushers, all wear high silk hats, and +that the groom carry a walking stick. + +Very particular grooms have the soles of their shoes blacked with +"water-proof" shoe polish so that when they kneel, their shoes look dark +and neat. + + +=WHAT THE BEST MAN WEARS= + +The best man wears precisely what the groom wears, with only one small +exception: the groom's boutonniere is slightly different and more +elaborate. The groom and best man often wear ties that are different from +those worn by the ushers, and occasionally white waistcoats. Otherwise the +two principal men are dressed like the ushers. + + +=WHAT THE USHERS WEAR= + +It is of greatest importance that in dress each usher be an exact +counterpart of his fellows, if the picture is to be perfect. + +Everyone knows what a ragged-edged appearance is produced by a company of +recruits whose uniforms are odd lots. An after-effect of army training +was evident at one or two smart New York weddings where the grooms were in +each case ex-officers and their ushers turned out in military uniformity. +Each of these grooms sent typewritten instructions to his ushers, covering +every detail of the "equipment" exacted. Few people may have reasoned why, +but scarcely any one failed to notice "what smart looking men all the +ushers were." It is always just such attention to detail that produces a +perfectly finished result. The directions sent by one of the grooms was as +follows: + + "Wedding rehearsal on Tuesday, St. Bartholomew's at 5 P.M. + + Wedding on Wednesday at 4 P.M. + + Please wear: + + Black calfskin low shoes. + Plain black silk socks. + Gray striped trousers (the darkest you have). + Morning coat and single-breasted black waistcoat. + White dress shirt (see that cuffs show three-quarters of + an inch below coat sleeves). + Stand-up wing collar. + Tie and gloves are enclosed. + Boutonniere will be at the church. + Be at the church yourself at three o'clock, sharp." + + +=THE HEAD USHER= + +Usually there is no "head usher," but in certain localities courtesy +designates the usher who is selected to take the bride's mother up the +aisle as the "head," or "first" usher. + +Very occasionally, too, a nervous groom appoints an especially "reliable" +friend head usher so as to be sure that all details will be carried +out--including the prompt and proper appearance at the church of the other +ushers. Usually, the ushers divide the arrangements among themselves. The +groom decides who goes on which aisle. One of them volunteers or is asked +to look out for the bride's coming and to notify the groom, another is +especially detailed to take the two mothers up the aisle. But very often +this arrangement is arbitrarily decided by height. If one mother is very +tall and the other very short, they generally go up with different ushers, +the tallest being chosen for the taller lady, and one of medium height for +the shorter. + + +=THE BRIDESMAIDS' LUNCHEON= + +In many sections of America, especially in the country and in small towns, +brides make an especial feature of asking their bridesmaids to a farewell +luncheon. The table is elaborately decorated (invariably in pink with +bridesmaids' roses), there is a bride's cake (lady cake) and there are +favors in the cake, and mottoes, and altogether it is a "lovely party." In +New York there is nothing like that at all. If the bride chooses to give a +luncheon to her bridesmaids on whatever day suits her best, there is no +objection to her doing so, or in fact, to her inviting whom she pleases to +whatever sort of a party her mother is willing she should give. It is not +a question of approved etiquette but of her own inclination seconded by +the consent of her mother! + +If her mother "keeps open house," probably they lunch with her many times +before the wedding; if, on the other hand, it is not the habit of the +family to have "people running in for meals," it is not necessary that she +ask them to lunch at all. But whether they lunch often or never, the +chances are that they are in and out of her house every day, looking at +new presents as they come, perhaps helping her to write the descriptions +in the gift book, and in arranging them in the room where they are to be +displayed. + +The bride usually goes to oversee the last fittings of the bridesmaids' +dresses in order to be sure that they are as she wants them. This final +trying-on should be arranged for several days at least before the wedding, +so there may be sufficient time to make any alterations that are found +necessary. Often the bride tries on her wedding dress at the same time so +that she may see the effect of the whole wedding picture as it will be, or +if she prefers, she tries on her dress at another hour alone. + +Usually her bridesmaids lunch quite informally with her, or come in for +tea, the day before the wedding, and on that day the bride gives them each +"her present" which is always something to wear. It may be the muffs they +are to carry, or parasols, if they have been chosen instead of bouquets. +The typical "bridesmaid's present" is a bangle, a breast pin, a hat pin, +which, according to the means of the bride, may have great or scarcely any +intrinsic value. + + +=BRIDESMAIDS AND USHERS' DINNER= + +If a wedding is being held in the country, or where most of the +bridesmaids or ushers come from a distance, and they are therefore +stopping at the bride's house, or with her neighbors, there is naturally a +"dinner" in order to provide for the visitors. But where the wedding is in +the city--especially when all the members of the bridal party live there +also--the custom of giving a dinner has gone rather out of fashion. + +If the bridal party is asked to dine at the house of the bride on the +evening before the wedding, it is usually with the purpose of gathering a +generally irresponsible group of young people together, and seeing that +they go to the church for rehearsal, which is of all things the most +important. More often the rehearsal is in the afternoon, after which the +young people go to the bride's house for tea, allowing her parents to have +her to themselves on her last evening home, and giving her a chance to go +early to bed so as to be as pretty as possible on the morrow. + + +=THE BACHELOR DINNER= + +Popularly supposed to have been a frightful orgy, and now arid as the +Sahara desert and quite as flat and dreary, the bachelor dinner was in +truth more often than not, a sheep in wolf's clothing. + +It is quite true that certain big clubs and restaurants had rooms +especially constructed for the purpose, with walls of stone and nothing +breakable within hitting distance, which certainly does rather suggest +frightfulness. As a matter of fact, "an orgy" was never looked upon with +favor by any but silly and wholly misguided youths, whose idea of a +howling good time was to make a howling noise; chiefly by singing at the +top of their lungs and--breaking crockery. A boisterous picture, but +scarcely a vicious one! Especially as quantities of the cheapest glassware +and crockery were always there for the purpose. + +The breaking habit originated with drinking the bride's health and +breaking the stem of the wine glass, so that it "might never serve a less +honorable purpose." A perfectly high-minded sentiment! And this same +time-honored custom is followed to this day. Toward the latter end of the +dinner the groom rises, and holding a filled champagne glass aloft says: +"To the bride!" Every man rises, drinks the toast standing, and then +breaks the delicate stem of the glass. The impulse to break more glass is +natural to youth, and probably still occurs. It is not hard to understand. +The same impulse is seen at every county fair where enthusiastic youths +(and men) delight in shooting, or throwing balls, at clay pipes and ducks +and--crockery! + +Aside from toasting the bride and its glass-smashing result, the groom's +farewell dinner is exactly like any other "man's dinner," the details +depending upon the extravagance or the frugality of the host, and upon +whether his particular friends are staid citizens of sober years or mere +boys full of the exuberance of youth. Usually there is music of some sort, +or "Neapolitans" or "coons" who sing, or two or three instrumental pieces, +and the dinner party itself does the singing. Often the dinner is short +and all go to the theater. + + +=GIFTS PRESENTED TO USHERS= + +The groom's presents to his ushers are always put at their places at the +bachelor dinner. Cuff links are the most popular gift; scarf-pins in +localities where they are still fashionable. Silver or gold pencils, belt +buckles, key-rings in gold, key-chains in silver, cigarette cases, +bill-folders, card-cases, or other small and personal articles are +suitable. + +The present to the best man is approximately the same, or slightly +handsomer than the gift to the ushers. + + +=THE REHEARSAL= + +The bride always directs her wedding rehearsal, but never herself takes +part in it, as it is supposed to be bad luck. Some one else--anyone who +happens to be present--is appointed understudy. + +Nearly always a few especial friends happen in, generally those who are +primed with advice as to how everything should be done, but the opinion of +the bride or the bride's mother is final. + + +=VITAL IMPORTANCE OF REHEARSAL= + +Most of us are familiar with the wedding service, and its form seems +simple enough. But, unless one has by experience learned to take care of +seemingly non-existent details, the effect (although few may be able to +say why) is hitchy and disjointed, and all the effort spent in preparation +is wasted. It is not that gauche happenings are serious offenses, no +matter how awkward the incident. Even were the wedding party to get +hopelessly entangled, no "crime" would have been committed; but any detail +that destroys the smoothness of the general impression is fatal to +dignity--and dignity is the qualification necessary above all else in +ceremonial observances. + + +=HOW THE PROCESSION IS DRILLED= + +The organist must always be at the rehearsal, as one of the most important +details is marking the time of the wedding march. Witnesses of most +weddings can scarcely imagine that a wedding march is a _march_ at all; +more often than not, the heads of ushers and bridesmaids bob up and down +like something boiling in a pan. A perfectly drilled wedding procession, +like a military one, should move forward in perfect step, rising and +falling in a block or unit. To secure perfection of detail, the bars of +the processional may be counted so that the music comes to an end at +precisely the moment the bride and groom stand side by side at the +chancel steps. This is not difficult; it merely takes time and attention. + +A wedding rehearsal should proceed as follows: + +First of all, it is necessary to determine the exact speed at which the +march is to be played. The ushers are asked to try it out. They line up at +the door, walk forward two and two. The audience, consisting of the bride +and her mother, and the bridesmaids, decides whether the pace "looks +well." It must not be fast enough to look brisk, or so slow as to be +funereal. At one wedding the ushers counted two beats as one and the pace +was so slow that they all wabbled in trying to keep their balance. The +painfulness to everyone may be imagined. On the other hand it is +unsuitable to "trot" up the aisle of a church. + +The "audience" having decided the speed, and the organist having noted the +tempo, the entire procession, including the bridesmaids and a substitute, +instead of the real bride, on her father's arm, go out into the vestibule +and make their entry. Remember, the father is an important factor in the +ceremony, and must take part in the rehearsal. + +The procession is arranged according to height, the two shortest ushers +leading--unless others of nearly the same height are found to be more +accurate pacemakers. The bridesmaids come directly after the ushers, two +and two, also according to height, the shortest in the lead. After the +bridesmaids, the maid (or matron) of honor walks alone; flower girls come +next (if there are any) and last of all, the understudy bride leaning on +the arm of the father, with pages (if she has any) holding up her train. +Each pair in the procession follows the two directly in front by four +paces or beats of time. In the vestibule, every one in the procession must +pay attention to the feet directly in front, the pacemakers can follow the +army sergeant's example and say very softly "left, left!" At the end the +bride counts eight beats before she and the father put "left foot" +forward. The whole trick is starting; after that they just walk naturally +to the beat of the music, but keeping the ones in front as nearly as +possible at the same distance. + +At the foot of the chancel, the ushers divide. In a small church, the +first two go up the chancel steps and stand at the top; one on the right, +the other on the left. The second two go to a step or two below the first. +If there are more, they stand below again. Chalk marks can be made on the +chancel floor if necessary, but it ought not to be difficult, except for +very little children who are flower girls or pages, to learn their +position. + +[Illustration: Diagram of Church] + +Or in a big church they go up farther, some of them lining the steps, or +all of them in front of the choir stalls. The bridesmaids also divide, +half on either side, and always stand in front of the ushers. The maid of +honor's place is on the left at the foot of the steps, exactly opposite +the best man. Flower girls and pages are put above or below the +bridesmaids wherever it is thought "the picture" is best. + +The grouping of the ushers and bridesmaids in the chancel or lining the +steps also depends upon their number and the size of the church. In any +event, the bridesmaids stand in front of the ushers; half of them on the +right and half on the left. They never stand all on the bride's side, and +the ushers on the groom's. + + +=ENTRANCE OF THE BRIDEGROOM= + +The clergyman who is to perform the marriage comes into the chancel from +the vestry. At a few paces behind him follows the groom, who in turn is +followed by the best man. The groom stops at the foot of the chancel steps +and takes his place at the right, as indicated in the accompanying +diagram. His best man stands directly behind him. The ushers and +bridesmaids always pass in front of him and take their places as noted +above. When the bride approaches, the groom takes only a step to meet her. + +A more effective greeting of the bride is possible if the door of the +vestry opens into the chancel so that on following the clergyman, the +groom finds himself at the top instead of the foot of the chancel steps. +He goes forward to the right-hand side (his left), his best man behind +him, and waits where he is until his bride approaches, when he goes down +the steps to meet her--which is perhaps more gallant than to stand at the +head of the aisle, and wait for her to join him. + +The real bride watches carefully how the pseudo bride takes her left hand +from her father's arm, shifts her fan, or whatever represents her bouquet, +from her right hand to her left, and gives her right hand to the groom. In +the proper maneuver the groom takes her right hand in his own right hand +and draws it through his left arm, at the same time turning toward the +chancel. If the service is undivided, and all of it is to be at the altar, +this is necessary as the bride always goes up to the altar leaning on the +arm of the groom. + +If, however, the betrothal is to be read at the foot of the chancel (which +is done at most weddings now) he may merely take her hand in his left one +and stand as they are. + + +=THE ORGANIST'S CUE= + +The organist stops at the moment the bride and groom have assumed their +places. That is the cue to the organist as to the number of bars necessary +for the procession. After the procession has practised "marching" two or +three times, everything ought to be perfect. The organist, having counted +up the necessary bars of music, can readily give the leading ushers their +"music cue"--so that they can start on the measure that will allow the +procession and the organ to end together. The organist can, and usually +does, stop off short, but there is a better finish if the bride's giving +her hand to the groom and taking the last step that brings her in front of +the chancel is timed so as to fall precisely on the last bars of the +processional. + +No words of the service are ever rehearsed, although all the "positions" +to be taken are practised. + +The pseudo bride takes the groom's left arm and goes slowly up the steps +to the altar. + +The best man follows behind and to the right of the groom, and the maid of +honor (or "first" bridesmaid) leaves her companions and advances behind +and to the left of the bride. The pseudo bride (in pantomime) gives her +bouquet to the maid of honor; the best man (also in pantomime) hands the +ring to the groom, this merely to see that they are at a convenient +distance for the services they are to perform. The recessional is played, +and the procession goes out in reversed order. Bride and groom first, then +bridesmaids, then ushers, again all taking pains to fall into step with +the leaders. + +On no account must the bridesmaids walk either up or down the aisle with +the ushers! Once in a while the maid of honor takes the arm of the best +man and together they follow the bride and groom out of the church. But it +gives the impression of a double wedding and spoils the picture. + + +=OBLIGATIONS OF THE BRIDEGROOM= + +In order that the first days of their life together may be as perfect as +possible, the groom must make preparations for the wedding trip long ahead +of time, so that best accommodations can be reserved. If they are to stop +first at a hotel in their own city, or one near by, he should go days or +even weeks in advance and personally select the rooms. It is much better +frankly to tell the proprietor, or room clerk, at the same time asking +him to "keep the secret." Everyone takes a friendly interest in a bridal +couple, and the chances are that the proprietor will try to reserve the +prettiest rooms in the house, and give the best service. + +If their first stop is to be at a distance, then he must engage train +seats or boat stateroom, and write to the hotel of their destination far +enough in advance to receive a written reply, so that he may be sure of +the accommodations they will find. + + +=EXPENSE OF THE WEDDING TRIP= + +Just as it is contrary to all laws of etiquette for the bride to accept +any part of her trousseau or wedding reception from the groom, so it is +unthinkable for the bride to defray the least fraction of the cost of the +wedding journey, no matter though she have millions in her own right, and +he be earning ten dollars a week. He must save up his ten dollars as long +as necessary, and the trip can be as short as they like, but convention +has no rule more rigid than that the wedding trip shall be a +responsibility of the groom. + +There are two modifications of this rule: a house may be put at their +disposal by a member of her family, or, if she is a widow, they may go to +one of her own, provided it is not one occupied by her with her late +husband. It is also quite all right for them to go away in a motor +belonging to her, but driven by him, and all garage expenses belong to +him; or if her father or other member of the family offers the use of a +yacht or private railway car, the groom may accept but he should remember +that the incidental and unavoidable expense of such a "gift" is sometimes +greater than the cost of railway tickets. + + +=BUYING THE WEDDING RING= + +It is quite usual for the bride to go with the groom when he buys the +wedding ring, the reason being that as it stays for life on her finger, +she should be allowed to choose the width and weight she likes and the +size she finds comfortable. + + +=THE GROOM'S PRESENT TO THE BRIDE= + +He is a very exceptional and enviable man who is financially able to take +his fiancee to the jeweler's and let her choose what she fancies. Usually +the groom buys the handsomest ornament he can afford--a string of pearls +if he has great wealth, or a diamond pendant, brooch or bracelet, or +perhaps only the simplest bangle or charm--but whether it is of great or +little worth, it must be something for her personal adornment. + + +=FURTHER OBLIGATIONS OF THE GROOM= + +Gifts must be provided for his best man and ushers, as well as their ties, +gloves and boutonnieres, a bouquet for his bride, and the fee for the +clergyman, which may be a ten dollar gold piece or one or two new one +hundred dollar bills, according to his wealth and the importance of the +wedding. Whatever the amount, it is enclosed in an envelope and taken in +charge by the best man who hands it to the clergyman in his vestry-room +immediately after the ceremony. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE DAY OF THE WEDDING + + +No one is busier than the best man on the day of the wedding. His official +position is a cross between trained nurse, valet, general manager and +keeper. + +Bright and early in the morning he hurries to the house of the groom, +generally before the latter is up. Very likely they breakfast together; in +any event, he takes the groom in charge precisely as might a guardian. He +takes note of his patient's general condition; if he is normal and "fit," +so much the better. If he is "up in the air" or "nervous" the best man +must bring him to earth and jolly him along as best he can. + + +=BEST MAN AS EXPRESSMAN= + +His first actual duty is that of packer and expressman; he must see that +everything necessary for the journey is packed, and that the groom does +not absent-mindedly put the furnishings of his room in his valise and +leave his belongings hanging in the closet. He must see that the clothes +the groom is to "wear away" are put into a special bag to be taken to the +house of the bride (where he, as well as she, must change from wedding +into traveling clothes). The best man becomes expressman if the first +stage of the wedding journey is to be to a hotel in town. He puts all the +groom's luggage into his own car or a taxi, drives to the bride's house, +carries the bag with the groom's traveling suit in it to the room set +aside for his use--usually the dressing-room of the bride's father or the +bedroom of her brother. He then collects, according to pre-arrangement, +the luggage of the bride and drives with the entire equipment of both +bride and groom to the hotel where rooms have already been engaged, sees +it all into the rooms, and makes sure that everything is as it should be. +If he is very thoughtful, he may himself put flowers about the rooms. He +also registers for the newly-weds, takes the room key, returns to the +house of the groom, gives him the key and assures him that everything at +the hotel is in readiness. This maneuver allows the young couple when they +arrive to go quietly to their rooms without attracting the notice of any +one, as would be the case if they arrived with baggage and were +conspicuously shown the way by a bell-boy whose manner unmistakably +proclaims "Bride and Groom!" + +Or, if they are going at once by boat or train, the best man takes the +baggage to the station, checks the large pieces, and fees a porter to see +that the hand luggage is put in the proper stateroom or parlor car chairs. +If they are going by automobile, he takes the luggage out to the garage +and personally sees that it is bestowed in the car. + + +=BEST MAN AS VALET= + +His next duty is that of valet. He must see that the groom is dressed and +ready early, and plaster him up if he cuts himself shaving. If he is wise +in his day he even provides a small bottle of adrenaline for just such an +accident, so that plaster is unnecessary and that the groom may be whole. +He may need to find his collar button or even to point out the "missing" +clothes that are lying in full view. He must also be sure to ask for the +wedding ring and the clergyman's fee, and put them in his own waistcoat +pocket. A very careful best man carries a duplicate ring, in case of one +being lost during the ceremony. + + +=BEST MAN AS COMPANION-IN-ORDINARY= + +With the bride's and groom's luggage properly bestowed, the ring and fee +in his pocket, the groom's traveling clothes at the bride's house, the +groom in complete wedding attire, and himself also ready, the best man has +nothing further to do but be gentleman-in-waiting to the groom until it is +time to escort him to the church, where he becomes chief of staff. + + +=AT THE HOUSE OF THE BRIDE= + +Meanwhile, if the wedding is to be at noon, dawn will not have much more +than broken before the house--at least below stairs--becomes bustling. + +Even if the wedding is to be at four o'clock, it will still be early in +the morning when the business of the day begins. But let us suppose it is +to be at noon; if the family is one that is used to assembling at an early +breakfast table, it is probable that the bride herself will come down for +this last meal alone with her family. They will, however, not be allowed +to linger long at the table. The caterer will already be clamoring for +possession of the dining-room--the florist will by that time already have +dumped heaps of wire and greens into the middle of the drawing-room, if +not beside the table where the family are still communing with their eggs. +The door-bell has long ago begun to ring. At first there are telegrams and +special delivery letters, then as soon as the shops open, come the +last-moment wedding presents, notes, messages and the insistent clamor of +the telephone. + +Next, excited voices in the hall announce members of the family who come +from a distance. They all want to kiss the bride, they all want rooms to +dress in, they all want to talk. Also comes the hairdresser, to do the +bride's or her mother's or aunt's or grandmother's hair, or all of them; +the manicure, the masseuse--any one else that may have been thought +necessary to give final beautifying touches to any or all of the female +members of the household. The dozen and one articles from the caterer are +meantime being carried in at the basement door; made dishes, and dishes in +the making, raw materials of which others are to be made; folding chairs, +small tables, chinaware, glassware, napery, knives, forks and spoons--it +is a struggle to get in or out of the kitchen or area door. + +The bride's mother consults the florist for the third and last time as to +whether the bridal couple had not better receive in the library because of +the bay window which lends itself easily to the decoration of a +background, and because the room, is, if anything, larger than the +drawing-room. And for the third time, the florist agrees about the +advantage of the window but points out that the library has only one +narrow door and that the drawing-room is much better, because it has two +wide ones and guests going into the room will not be blocked in the +doorway by others coming out. + +The best man turns up and wants the bride's luggage. + +The head usher comes to ask whether the Joneses to be seated in the fourth +pew are the tall dark ones or the blond ones, and whether he had not +better put some of the Titheringtons who belong in the eighth pew also in +the seventh, as there are nine Titheringtons and the Eminents in the +seventh pew are only four. + +A bridesmaid-elect hurries up the steps, runs into the best man carrying +out the luggage; much conversation and giggling and guessing as to where +the luggage is going. Best man very important, also very noble and silent. +Bridesmaid shrugs her shoulders, dashes up to the bride's room and dashes +down again. + +More presents arrive. The furniture movers have come and are carting lumps +of heaviness up the stairs to the attic and down the stairs to the cellar. +It is all very like an ant-hill. Some are steadily going forward with the +business in hand, but others who have become quite bewildered, seem to be +scurrying aimlessly this way and that, picking something up only to put it +down again. + + +=THE DRAWING-ROOM= + +Here, where the bride and groom are to receive, one can not tell yet what +the decoration is to be. Perhaps it is a hedged-in garden scene, a palm +grove, a flowering recess, a screen and canopy of wedding bells--but a +bower of foliage of some sort is gradually taking shape. + + +=THE DINING-ROOM= + +The dining-room, too, blossoms with plants and flowers. Perhaps its space +and that of a tent adjoining is filled with little tables, or perhaps a +single row of camp chairs stands flat against the walls, and in the center +of the room, the dining table pulled out to its farthest extent, is being +decked with trimmings and utensils which will be needed later when the +spaces left at intervals for various dishes shall be occupied. Preparation +of these dishes is meanwhile going on in the kitchen. + + +=THE KITCHEN= + +The caterer's chefs in white cook's caps and aprons are in possession of +the situation, and their assistants run here and there, bringing +ingredients as they are told; or perhaps the caterer brings everything +already prepared, in which case the waiters are busy unpacking the big tin +boxes and placing the _bain-marie_ (a sort of fireless cooker receptacle +in a tank of hot water) from which the hot food is to be served. Huge tubs +of cracked ice in which the ice cream containers are buried are already +standing in the shade of the areaway or in the back yard. + + +=LAST PREPARATIONS= + +Back again in the drawing-room, the florist and his assistants are still +tying and tacking and arranging and adjusting branches and garlands and +sheaves and bunches, and the floor is a litter of twigs and strings and +broken branches. The photographer is asking that the central decoration be +finished so he can group his pictures, the florist assures him that he is +as busy as possible. + +The house is as cold as open windows can make it, to keep the flowers +fresh, and to avoid stuffiness. The door-bell continues its ringing, and +the parlor maid finds herself a contestant in a marathon, until some one +decides that card envelopes and telegrams had better be left in the front +hall. + +A first bridesmaid arrives. She at least is on time. All decoration +activity stops while she is looked at and admired. Panic seizes some one! +The time is too short, nothing will be ready! Some one else says the +bridesmaid is far too early, there is no end of time. + +Upstairs everyone is still dressing. The father of the bride (one would +suppose him to be the bridegroom at least) is trying on most of his +shirts, the floor strewn with discarded collars! The mother of the bride +is hurrying into her wedding array so as to be ready for any emergency, as +well as to superintend the finishing touches to her daughter's dress and +veil. + + +=THE WEDDING DRESS= + +Everyone knows what a wedding dress is like. It may be of any white +material, satin, brocade, velvet, chiffon or entirely of lace. It may be +embroidered in pearls, crystals or silver; or it may be as plain as a +slip-cover--anything in fact that the bride fancies, and made in whatever +fashion or period she may choose. + +As for her veil in its combination of lace or tulle and orange blossoms, +perhaps it is copied from a head-dress of Egypt or China, or from the +severe drapery of Rebecca herself, or proclaim the knowing touch of the +Rue de la Paix. It may have a cap, like that of a lady in a French print, +or fall in clouds of tulle from under a little wreath, such as might be +worn by a child Queen of the May. + +The origin of the bridal veil is an unsettled question. + +Roman brides wore "yellow veils," and veils were used in the ancient +Hebrew marriage ceremony. The veil as we use it may be a substitute for +the flowing tresses which in old times fell like a mantle modestly +concealing the bride's face and form; or it may be an amplification of the +veil which medieval fashion added to every head-dress. + +In olden days the garland rather than the veil seems to have been of +greatest importance. The garland was the "coronet of the good girl," and +her right to wear it was her inalienable attribute of virtue. + +Very old books speak of three ornaments that every virtuous bride must +wear, "a ring on her finger, a brooch on her breast and a garland on her +head." + +A bride who had no dowry of gold was said nevertheless to bring her +husband great treasure, if she brought him a garland--in other words, a +virtuous wife. + +At present the veil is usually mounted by a milliner on a made foundation, +so that it need merely be put on--but every young girl has an idea of how +she personally wants her wedding veil and may choose rather to put it +together herself or have it done by some particular friend, whose taste +and skill she especially admires. + +If she chooses to wear a veil over her face up the aisle and during the +ceremony, the front veil is always a short separate piece about a yard +square, gathered on an invisible band, and pinned with a hair pin at +either side, after the long veil is arranged. It is taken off by the maid +of honor when she gives back the bride's bouquet at the conclusion of the +ceremony. + +The face veil is a rather old-fashioned custom, and is appropriate only +for a very young bride of a demure type; the tradition being that a maiden +is too shy to face a congregation unveiled, and shows her face only when +she is a married woman. + +Some brides prefer to remove their left glove by merely pulling it inside +out at the altar. Usually the under seam of the wedding finger of her +glove is ripped for about two inches and she need only pull the tip off to +have the ring put on. Or, if the wedding is a small one, she wears no +gloves at all. + +Brides have been known to choose colors other than white. Cloth of silver +is quite conventional and so is very deep cream, but cloth of gold +suggests the habiliment of a widow rather than that of a virgin maid--of +which the white and orange blossoms, or myrtle leaf, are the emblems. + +If a bride chooses to be married in traveling dress, she has no +bridesmaids, though she often has a maid of honor. A "traveling" dress is +either a "tailor made" if she is going directly on a boat or train, or a +morning or afternoon dress--whatever she would "wear away" after a big +wedding. + +But to return to our particular bride; everyone seemingly is in her room, +her mother, her grandmother, three aunts, two cousins, three bridesmaids, +four small children, two friends, her maid, the dressmaker and an +assistant. Every little while, the parlor-maid brings a message or a +package. Her father comes in and goes out at regular intervals, in sheer +nervousness. The rest of the bridesmaids gradually appear and distract the +attention of the audience so that the bride has moments of being allowed +to dress undisturbed. At last even her veil is adjusted and all present +gasp their approval: "How sweet!" "Dearest, you are too lovely!" and +"Darling, how wonderful you look!" + +Her father reappears: "If you are going to have the pictures taken, you +had better all hurry!" + +"Oh, Mary," shouts some one, "what have you on that is + + Something old, something new, + Something borrowed, something blue, + And a lucky sixpence in your shoe!" + +"Let me see," says the bride, "'old,' I have old lace; 'new,' I have lots +of new! 'Borrowed,' and 'blue'?" A chorus of voices: "Wear my ring," "Wear +my pin," "Wear mine! It's blue!" and some one's pin which has a blue stone +in it, is fastened on under the trimming of her dress and serves both +needs. If the lucky sixpence (a dime will do) is produced, she must at +least pay discomfort for her "luck." + +Again some one suggests the photographer is waiting and time is short. +Having pictures taken before the ceremony is a dull custom, because it is +tiring to sit for one's photograph at best, and to attempt anything so +delaying as posing at the moment when the procession ought to be starting, +is as trying to the nerves as it is exhausting, and more than one wedding +procession has consisted of very "dragged out" young women in consequence. + +At a country wedding it is very easy to take the pictures out on the lawn +at the end of the reception and just before the bride goes to dress. +Sometimes in a town house, they are taken in an up-stairs room at that +same hour; but usually the bride is dressed and her bridesmaids arrive at +her house fully half an hour before the time necessary to leave for the +church, and pictures of the group are taken as well as several of the +bride alone--with special lights--against the background where she will +stand and receive. + + +=PROCESSION TO CHURCH= + +Whether the pictures are taken before the wedding or after, the +bridesmaids always meet at the house of the bride, where they also receive +their bouquets. When it is time to go to the church, there are several +carriages or motors drawn up at the house. The bride's mother drives away +in the first, usually alone, or she may, if she chooses, take one or two +bridesmaids in her car, but she must reserve room for her husband who will +return from church with her. The maid of honor, bridesmaids and flower +girls go in the next vehicles, which may be their own or else are supplied +by the bride's family; and last of all, comes the bride's carriage, which +always has a wedding appearance. If it is a brougham, the horses' +headpieces are decorated with white flowers and the coachman wears a white +boutonniere; if it is a motor, the chauffeur wears a small bunch of white +flowers on his coat, and white gloves, and has all the tires painted white +to give the car a wedding appearance. The bride drives to the church with +her father only. Her carriage arrives last of the procession, and stands +without moving, in front of the awning, until she and her husband (in +place of her father) return from the ceremony and drive back to the house +for the breakfast or reception. + +If she has no father, this part is taken by an uncle, a brother, a cousin, +her guardian, or other close male connection of her family. + +If it should happen that the bride has neither father nor very near male +relative, or guardian, she walks up the aisle alone. At the point in the +ceremony when the clergyman asks who gives the bride, if the betrothal is +read at the chancel steps, her mother goes forward and performs the office +in exactly the same way that her father would have done. + +If the entire ceremony is at the altar, the mother merely stays where she +is standing in her proper place at the end of the first pew on the left, +and says very distinctly, "I do." + + +=AT THE CHURCH= + +Meanwhile, about an hour before the time for the ceremony, the ushers +arrive at the church and the sexton turns his guardianship over to them. +They leave their hats in the vestry, or coat room. Their boutonnieres, +sent by the groom, should be waiting in the vestibule. They should be in +charge of a boy from the florist's, who has nothing else on his mind but +to see that they are there, that they are fresh and that the ushers get +them. Each man puts one in his buttonhole, and also puts on his gloves. +The head usher decides (or the groom has already told them) to which +ushers are apportioned the center, and to which the side aisles. If it is +a big church with side aisles and gallery, and there are only six ushers, +four will be put in the center aisle, and two in the side. Guests who +choose to sit up in the gallery find places for themselves. + +Often, at a big wedding, the sexton or one of his assistants guards the +entrance to the gallery and admission is reserved by cards for the +employees of both families, but usually the gallery is open to those who +care to go up. An usher whose "place" is in the side aisle may escort +occasional personal friends of his own down the center aisle if he happens +to be unoccupied at the moment of their entrance. Those of the ushers who +are the most likely to recognize the various close friends and members of +each family are invariably detailed to the center aisle. A brother of the +bride, for instance, is always chosen for this aisle because he is best +fitted to look out for his own relatives and to place them according to +their near or distant kinship. A second usher should be either a brother +of the groom or a near relative who would be able to recognize the family +and close friends of the groom. + +The first six to twenty pews on both sides of the center aisle are fenced +off with white ribbons into a reserved enclosure. The parents of the bride +always sit in the first pew on the left (facing the chancel); the parents +of the groom always sit in the first pew on the right. The right hand side +of the church is the groom's side always, the left is that of the bride. + +[Illustration: A CHURCH WEDDING +"In the city or country the church is +decorated with masses of flowers, greens and sprays of flowers at the ends +of the six to twenty reserved pews." [Page 354.]] + + +=SEATING THE GUESTS= + +It is the duty of the ushers to show all guests to their places. An usher +offers his arm to each lady as she arrives, whether he knows her +personally or not. If the vestibule is very crowded and several ladies are +together, he sometimes gives his arm to the older and asks the others to +follow. But this is not done unless the crowd is great and the time short. + +If the usher thinks a guest belongs in front of the ribbons though she +fails to present her card, he always asks at once "Have you a pew number?" +If she has, he then shows her to her place. If she has none, he asks +whether she prefers to sit on the bride's side or the groom's and gives +her the best seat vacant in the unreserved part of the church. He +generally makes a few polite remarks as he takes her up the aisle. Such +as: + +"I am so sorry you came late, all the good seats are taken further up." Or +"Isn't it lucky they have such a beautiful day?" or "Too bad it is +raining." Or, perhaps the lady is first in making a similar remark or two +to him. + +Whatever conversation there is, is carried on in a low voice, not, +however, whispered or solemn. The deportment of the ushers should be +natural but at the same time dignified and quiet in consideration of the +fact that they are in church. They must not trot up and down the aisles in +a bustling manner; yet they must be fairly agile, as the vestibule is +packed with guests who have all to be seated as expeditiously as possible. + +The guests without reserved cards should arrive first in order to find +good places; then come the reserved seat guests; and lastly, the immediate +members of the families, who all have especial places in the front pews +held for them. + +It is not customary for one who is in deep mourning to go to a wedding, +but there can be little criticism of an intimate friend who takes a place +in the gallery of the church from which she can see the ceremony and yet +be apart from the wedding guests. At a wedding that is necessarily small +because of mourning, the women of the family usually lay aside black for +that one occasion and wear white. + + +_In Front of the Ribbons_ + +There are two ways in which people "in front of the ribbons" are seated. +The less efficient way is by means of a typewritten list of those for whom +seats are reserved and of the pews in which they are to be seated, given +to each usher, who has read it over for each guest who arrives at the +church. From every point of view, the typewritten list is bad; first, it +wastes time, and as everyone arrives at the same moment, and every lady is +supposed to be taken personally up the aisle "on the arm" of an usher, the +time consumed while each usher looks up each name on several gradually +rumpling or tearing sheets of paper is easily imagined. Besides which, one +who is at all intimate with either family can not help feeling in some +degree slighted when, on giving one's name, the usher looks for it in +vain. + +The second, and far better method, is to have a pew card sent, enclosed +with the wedding invitation, or an inscribed visiting card sent by either +family. A guest who has a card with "Pew No. 12" on it, knows, and the +usher knows, exactly where she is to go. Or if she has a card saying +"Reserved" or "Before the ribbons" or any special mark that means in the +reserved section but no especial pew, the usher puts her in the "best +position available" behind the first two or three numbered rows that are +saved for the immediate family, and in front of the ribbons marking the +reserved enclosure. + +It is sometimes well for the head usher to ask the bride's mother if she +is sure she has allowed enough pews in the reserved section to seat all +those with cards. Arranging definite seat numbers has one disadvantage; +one pew may have every seat occupied and another may be almost empty. In +that case an usher can, just before the procession is to form, shift a +certain few people out of the crowded pews into the others. But it would +be a breach of etiquette for people to re-seat themselves, and no one +should be seated after the entrance of the bride's mother. + + +=THE BRIDEGROOM WAITS= + +Meanwhile, about fifteen minutes before the wedding hour, the groom and +his best man--both in morning coats, top-hats, boutonnieres and white +buckskin (but remember not shiny) gloves, walk or drive to the church and +enter the side door which leads to the vestry. There they sit, or in the +clergyman's study, until the sexton or an usher comes to say that the +bride has arrived. + + +=THE PERFECTLY MANAGED WEDDING= + +At a perfectly managed wedding, the bride arrives exactly one minute (to +give a last comer time to find place) after the hour. Two or three +servants have been sent to wait in the vestibule to help the bride and +bridesmaids off with their wraps and hold them until they are needed after +the ceremony. The groom's mother and father also are waiting in the +vestibule. As the carriage of the bride's mother drives up, an usher goes +as quickly as he can to tell the groom, and any brothers or sisters of the +bride or groom, who are not to take part in the wedding procession and +have arrived in their mother's carriage, are now taken by ushers to their +places in the front pews. The moment the entire wedding party is at the +church, the doors between the vestibule and the church are _closed_. No +one is seated after this, except the parents of the young couple. The +proper procedure should be carried out with military exactness, and is as +follows: + +The groom's mother goes down the aisle on the arm of the head usher and +takes her place in the first pew on the right; the groom's father follows +alone, and takes his place beside her; the same usher returns to the +vestibule and immediately escorts the bride's mother; he should then have +time to return to the vestibule and take his place in the procession. The +beginning of the wedding march should sound just as the usher returns to +the head of the aisle. To repeat: _No other person should be seated after +the mother of the bride._ Guests who arrive later must stand in the +vestibule or go into the gallery. + +The sound of the music is also the cue for the clergyman to enter the +chancel, followed by the groom and his best man. The two latter wear +gloves but have left their hats and sticks in the vestry-room. + +The groom stands on the right hand side at the head of the aisle, but if +the vestry opens into the chancel, he sometimes stands at the top of the +first few steps. He removes his right glove and holds it in his left hand. +The best man remains always directly back and to the right of the groom, +and does _not_ remove his glove. + + +=HERE COMES THE BRIDE= + +The description of the procession is given in detail on a preceding page +in the "Wedding Rehearsal" section. + +Starting on the right measure and keeping perfect time, the ushers come, +two by two, four paces apart; then the bridesmaids (if any) at the same +distance exactly; then the maid of honor alone; then the flower girls (if +any); then, at a _double distance_, the bride on her father's right arm. +She is dressed always in white, with a veil of lace or tulle. Usually she +carries a bridal bouquet of white flowers, either short, or with streamers +(narrow ribbons with little bunches of blossoms on the end of each) or +trailing vines, or maybe she holds a long sheaf of stiff flowers such as +lilies on her arm. Or perhaps she carries a prayer book instead of a +bouquet. + + +=THE GROOM COMES FORWARD TO MEET THE BRIDE= + +As the bride approaches, the groom waits at the foot of the steps (unless +he comes down the steps to meet her). The bride relinquishes her father's +arm, changes her bouquet from her right to her left, and gives her right +hand to the groom. The groom, taking her hand in his right puts it through +his left arm--just her finger tips should rest near the bend of his +elbow--and turns to face the chancel as he does so. It does not matter +whether she takes his arm or whether they stand hand in hand at the foot +of the chancel in front of the clergyman. + + +=HER FATHER GIVES HER AWAY= + +Her father has remained where she left him, on her left and a step or two +behind her. The clergyman stands a step or two above them, and reads the +betrothal. When he says "Who giveth this woman to be married?" the father +goes forward, still on her left, and half way between her and the +clergyman, but not in front of either, the bride turns slightly toward her +father, and gives him her right hand, the father puts her hand into that +of the clergyman and says at the same moment: "I do!" He then takes his +place next to his wife at the end of the first pew on the left. + + +=THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY= + +A soloist or the choir then sings while the clergyman slowly ascends to +the altar, before which the marriage is performed. The bride and groom +follow slowly, the fingers of her right hand on his left arm. + +The maid of honor, or else the first bridesmaid, moves out of line and +follows on the left hand side until she stands immediately below the +bride. The best man takes the same position exactly on the right behind +the groom. At the termination of the anthem, the bride hands her bouquet +to the maid of honor (or her prayer-book to the clergyman) and the bride +and groom plight their troth. + +When it is time for the ring, the best man produces it from his pocket. If +in the handling from best man to groom, to clergyman, to groom again, and +finally to the bride's finger, it should slip and fall, the best man must +pick it up if he can without searching; if not, he quietly produces the +duplicate which all careful best men carry in the other waistcoat pocket, +and the ceremony proceeds. The lost ring--or the unused extra one--is +returned to the jeweler's next day. Which ring, under the circumstances, +the bride keeps, is a question as hard to answer as that of the Lady or +the Tiger. Would she prefer the substitute ring that was actually the one +she was married with? Or the one her husband bought and had marked for +her? Or would she prefer not to have a substitute ring and have the whole +wedding party on their knees searching? She alone can decide. Fortunately, +even if the clergyman is very old and his hand shaky, a substitute is +seldom necessary. + +The wedding ring must not be put above the engagement ring. On her wedding +day a bride either leaves her engagement ring at home when she goes to +church or wears it on her right hand. + + +=AFTER THE CEREMONY= + +At the conclusion of the ceremony, the minister congratulates the new +couple. The organ begins the recessional. The bride takes her bouquet from +her maid of honor (who removes the veil if she wore one over her face). +She then turns toward her husband--her bouquet in her right hand--and puts +her left hand through his right arm, and they descend the steps. + +The maid of honor, handing her own bouquet to a second bridesmaid, follows +a short distance after the bride, at the same time stooping and +straightening out the long train and veil. The bride and groom go on down +the aisle. The best man disappears into the vestry room. At a perfectly +conducted wedding he does not walk down the aisle with the maid of honor. +The maid of honor recovers her bouquet and walks alone. If a bridesmaid +performs the office of maid of honor, she takes her place among her +companion bridesmaids who go next; and the ushers go last. + +The best man has meanwhile collected the groom's belongings and dashed out +of the side entrance and around to the front to give the groom his hat and +stick. Sometimes the sexton takes charge of the groom's hat and stick and +hands them to him at the church door as he goes out. But in either case +the best man always hurries around to see the bride and groom into their +carriage, which has been standing at the entrance to the awning since she +and her father alighted from it. + +All the other conveyances are drawn up in the reverse order from that in +which they arrived. The bride's carriage leaves first, next come those of +the bridesmaids, next the bride's mother and father, next the groom's +mother and father, then the nearest members of both families, and finally +all the other guests in the order of their being able to find their +conveyances. + +The best man goes back to the vestry, where he gives the fee to the +clergyman, collects his own hat, and coat if he has one, and goes to the +bride's house. + +As soon as the recessional is over, the ushers hurry back and escort to +the door all the ladies who were in the first pews, according to the order +of precedence; the bride's mother first, then the groom's mother, then the +other occupants of the first pew on either side, then the second and third +pews, until all members of the immediate families have left the church. +Meanwhile it is a breach of etiquette for other guests to leave their +places. At some weddings, just before the bride's arrival, the ushers run +ribbons down the whole length of the center aisle, fencing the +congregation in. As soon as the occupants of the first pews have left, the +ribbons are removed and all the other guests go out by themselves, the +ushers having by that time hurried to the bride's house to make themselves +useful at the reception. + + +=AT THE HOUSE= + +An awning makes a covered way from the edge of the curb to the front door. +At the lower end the chauffeur (or one of the caterer's men) stands to +open the carriage door; and give return checks to the chauffeurs and their +employers. Inside the house the florist has finished, an orchestra is +playing in the hall or library, everything is in perfect order. The bride +and groom have taken their places in front of the elaborate setting of +flowering plants that has been arranged for them. + +The bride stands on her husband's right and her bridesmaids are either +grouped beyond her or else divided, half on her side and half on the side +of the groom, forming a crescent with bride and groom in the center. + + +=USHERS AT THE HOUSE= + +At a small wedding the duty of ushers is personally to take guests up to +the bride and groom. But at a big reception where guests outnumber ushers +fifty or a hundred to one, being personally conducted is an honor accorded +only to the very old, the very celebrated or the usher's own best friends. +All the other guests stand in a long congested line by themselves. The +bride's mother takes her place somewhere near the entrance of the room, +and it is for her benefit that her own butler or one furnished by the +caterer, asks each guest his name and then repeats it aloud. The guests +shake hands with the hostess, and making some polite remark about the +"beautiful wedding" or "lovely bride," continue in line to the bridal +pair. + + +=WEDDING CONVERSATION= + +What you should say in congratulating a bridal couple depends on how well +you know one, or both of them. But remember it is a breach of good manners +to congratulate a bride on having secured a husband. + +If you are unknown to both of them, and in a long queue, it is not even +necessary to give your name. You merely shake hands with the groom, say a +formal word or two such as "Congratulations!"; shake hands with the bride, +say "I wish you every happiness!" and pass on. + +If you know them fairly well, you may say to him "I hope your good luck +will stay with you always!" or "I certainly do congratulate you!" and to +her "I hope your whole life will be one long happiness," or, if you are +much older than she, "You look too lovely, dear Mary, and I hope you will +always be as radiant as you look to-day!" Or, if you are a woman and a +relative or really close friend, you kiss the groom, saying, "All the luck +in the world to you, dear Jim, she certainly is lovely!" Or, kissing the +bride, "Mary, darling, every good wish in the world to you!" + +To all the above, the groom and bride answer merely "Thank you." + +A man might say to the groom "Good luck to you, Jim, old man!" Or, "She is +the most lovely thing I have ever seen!" And to her, "I hope you will +have every happiness!" Or "I was just telling Jim how lucky I think he is! +I hope you will both be very happy!" Or, if a very close friend, also +kissing the bride, "All the happiness you can think of isn't as much as I +wish you, Mary dear!" But it cannot be too much emphasized that +promiscuous kissing among the guests is an offense against good taste. + +To a relative, or old friend of the bride, but possibly a stranger to the +groom, the bride always introduces her husband saying, "Jim, this is Aunt +Kate!" Or, "Mrs. Neighbor, you know Jim, don't you?" Or formally, "Mrs. +Faraway, may I present my husband?" + +The groom on the approach of an old friend of his, says, "Mary, this is +cousin Carrie." Or, "Mrs. Denver, do you know Mary?" Or, "Hello, Steve, +let me introduce you to my wife; Mary, this is Steve Michigan." Steve says +"How do you do, Mrs. Smartlington!" And Mary says, "Of course, I have +often heard Jim speak of you!" + +The bride with a good memory thanks each arriving person for the gift sent +her: "Thank you so much for the lovely candlesticks," or "I can't tell you +how much I love the dishes!" The person who is thanked says, "I am so glad +you like it (or them)," or "I am so glad! I hoped you might find it +useful." Or "I didn't have it marked, so that in case you have a +duplicate, you can change it." + +Conversation is never a fixed grouping of words that are learned or +recited like a part in a play; the above examples are given more to +indicate the sort of things people in good society usually say. There is, +however, one rule: Do not launch into long conversation or details of +_yourself_, how you feel or look or what happened to you, or what _you_ +wore when you were married! Your subject must not deviate from the young +couple themselves, their wedding, their future. + +Also be brief in order not to keep those behind waiting longer than +necessary. If you have anything particular to tell them, you can return +later when there is no longer a line. But even then, long conversation, +especially concerning yourself, is out of place. + + +=PARENTS OF THE GROOM= + +The groom's mother always receives either near the bride's mother or else +continuing the line beyond the bridesmaids, and it is proper for every +guest to shake hands with her too, whether they know her or not, but it is +not necessary to say anything. The bride's father sometimes stands beside +his wife but he usually circulates among his guests just as he would at a +ball or any other party where he is host. + +The groom's father is a guest and it is not necessary for strangers to +speak to him, unless he stands beside his wife and, as it were, +"receives," but there is no impropriety in any one telling him how well +they know and like his son or his new daughter-in-law. + +The guests, as soon as they have congratulated the bride and groom, go out +and find themselves places (if it is to be a sit-down breakfast) at a +table. + + +=DETAILS OF A SIT-DOWN BREAKFAST= + +Unless the house is remarkable in size, there is usually a canopied +platform built next to the veranda or on the lawn or over the yard of a +city house. The entire space is packed with little tables surrounding the +big one reserved for the bridal party, and at a large breakfast a second +table is reserved for the parents of the bride and groom and a few close, +and especially invited, friends. + +Place cards are not put on any of the small tables. All the guests, except +the few placed at the two reserved tables, sit with whom they like; +sometimes by pre-arrangement, but usually where they happen to find +friends--and room! + +The general sit-down breakfast--except in great houses like a few of those +in Newport--is always furnished by a caterer, who brings all the food, +tables, chairs, napery, china and glass, as well as the necessary waiters. +The butler and footmen belonging in the house may assist or oversee, or +detail themselves to other duties. + +Small _menu_ cards printed in silver are put on all the tables. Sometimes +these cards have the crest of the bride's father embossed at the top, but +usually the entwined initials of the bride and groom are stamped in silver +to match the wedding cake boxes. + +Example: + +[Illustration: +Bouillon +Lobster Newburg +Supreme of Chicken +Peas +Aspic of Foie Gras +Celery Salad +Ices +Coffee] + +Instead of bouillon, there may be caviar or melon, or grape fruit, or a +puree, or clam broth. For lobster Newburg may be soft-shell crabs or +oyster pate, or other fish. Or the bouillon may be followed by a dish such +as sweetbreads and mushrooms, or chicken pates, or broiled chicken (a half +of a chicken for each guest) or squab, with salad such as whole tomatoes +filled with celery. Or the chicken or squab may be the second course, and +an aspic with the salad, the third. Individual ices are accompanied by +little cakes of assorted variety. There used always to be champagne; a +substitute is at best "a poor thing," and what the prevailing one is to +be, is as yet not determined. Orange juice and ginger ale, or white grape +juice and ginger ale with sugar and mint leaves are two attempts at a +satisfying cup that have been offered lately. + + +=THE BRIDE'S TABLE= + +The feature of the wedding breakfast is always the bride's table. Placed +sometimes in the dining-room, sometimes on the veranda or in a room apart, +this table is larger and more elaborately decorated than any of the +others. There are white garlands or sprays or other arrangement of white +flowers, and in the center as chief ornament is an elaborately iced +wedding cake. On the top it has a bouquet of white or silver flowers, or +confectioner's quaint dolls representing the bride and groom. The top is +usually made like a cover so that when the time comes for the bride to cut +it, it is merely lifted off. The bride always cuts the cake, meaning that +she inserts the knife and makes one cut through the cake, after which each +person cuts herself or himself a slice. If there are two sets of favors +hidden in the cake, there is a mark in the icing to distinguish the +bridesmaids' side from that of the ushers. Articles, each wrapped in +silver foil, have been pushed through the bottom of the cake at intervals; +the bridesmaids find a ten-cent piece for riches, a little gold ring for +"first to be married," a thimble or little parrot or cat for "old maid," a +wish-bone for the "luckiest." On the ushers' side, a button or dog is for +the bachelor, and a miniature pair of dice as a symbol of lucky chance in +life. The ring and ten-cent piece are the same. + +If a big piece of the wedding cake is left, the bride's mother has it +wrapped in tin foil and put in a sealed tin box and kept for the bride to +open on her first anniversary. + +The evolution of the wedding cake began in ancient Rome where brides +carried wheat ears in their left hands. Later, Anglo-Saxon brides wore the +wheat made into chaplets, and gradually the belief developed that a young +girl who ate of the grains of wheat which became scattered on the ground, +would dream of her future husband. The next step was the baking of a thin +dry biscuit which was broken over the bride's head and the crumbs divided +amongst the guests. The next step was in making richer cake; then icing +it, and the last instead of having it broken over her head, the bride +broke it herself into small pieces for the guests. Later she cut it with a +knife. + + +=THE TABLE OF THE BRIDE'S PARENTS= + +The table of the bride's parents differs from other tables in nothing +except in its larger size, and the place cards for those who have been +invited to sit there. The groom's father always sits on the right of the +bride's mother, and the groom's mother has the place of honor on the +host's right. The other places at the table are occupied by distinguished +guests who may or may not include the clergyman who performed the +ceremony. If a bishop or dean performed the ceremony, he is always +included at this table and is placed at the left of the hostess, and his +wife, if present, sits at the bride's father's left. Otherwise only +especially close friends of the bride's parents are invited to this table. + + +=THE WEDDING CAKE= + +In addition to the big cake on the bride's table, there are at all +weddings, near the front door so that the guests may each take one as they +go home, little individual boxes of wedding cake, "black" fruit cake. Each +box is made of white moire or gros-grain paper, embossed in silver with +the last initial of the groom intertwined with that of the bride and tied +with white satin ribbon. At a sit-down breakfast the wedding cake boxes +are sometimes put, one at each place, on the tables so that each guest may +be sure of receiving one, and other "thoughtless" ones prevented from +carrying more than their share away. + + +=THE STANDING BREAKFAST OR RECEPTION= + +The standing breakfast differs from the sit-down breakfast in service +only. Instead of numerous small tables at which the guests are served with +a course luncheon, a single long one is set in the dining-room. (The +regular table pulled out to its farthest extent.) It is covered with a +plain white damask cloth--or it may be of embroidered linen and lace +insertion. In the center is usually a bowl or vase or other centerpiece, +of white flowers. On it are piles of plates, stacks of napkins and rows of +spoons and forks at intervals, making four or possibly six piles +altogether. Always there are dishes filled with little fancy cakes, chosen +as much for looks as for taste. There is usually a big urn at one end +filled with bouillon and one at the other filled with chocolate or tea. +In four evenly spaced places are placed two cold dishes such as an aspic +of chicken, or ham mousse, or a terrine de foie gras, or other aspic. The +hot dishes may be a boned capon, vol-au-vent of sweetbread and mushrooms, +creamed oysters, chicken a la King, or chicken croquettes; or there may be +cold cuts, or celery salad, in tomato aspic. Whatever the choice may be, +there are two or three cold dishes and at least two hot. Whatever there +is, must be selected with a view to its being easily eaten with a fork +while the plate is held in the other hand! There are also rolls and +biscuits, pate de foie gras or lettuce and tomato sandwiches, the former +made usually of split "dinner" rolls with pate between, or thin sandwiches +rolled like a leaf in which a moth has built a cocoon. Ices are brought in +a little later, when a number of persons have apparently finished their +"first course." Ice cream is quite as fashionable as individual "ices." It +is merely that caterers are less partial to it because it has to be cut. + +After-dinner coffee is put on a side table, as the champagne used to be. +From now on there will probably be a bowl or pitchers of something with a +lump of ice in it that can be ladled into glasses and become whatever +those gifted with imagination may fancy. + +Unless the wedding is very small, there is always a bride's table, +decorated exactly as that described for a sit-down breakfast, and placed +usually in the library, but there is no especial table for the bride's +mother and her guests--or for anyone else. + + +=THE BRIDAL PARTY EAT= + +By the time the sit-down breakfast has reached its second course and the +queue of arriving guests has dwindled and melted away, the bride and groom +decide that it is time they too go to breakfast. Arm in arm they lead the +way to their own table followed by the ushers and bridesmaids. The bride +and groom always sit next to each other, she on his right; the maid of +honor (or matron) is on his left, and the best man is on the right of the +bride. Around the rest of the table come bridesmaids and ushers +alternately. Sometimes one or two others--sisters of the bride or groom or +intimate friends, who were not included in the wedding party, are asked to +the table, and when there are no bridesmaids this is always the case. + +The decoration of the table, the service, the food, is exactly the same +whether the other guests are seated or standing. At dessert, the bride +cuts the cake, and the bridesmaids and ushers find the luck pieces. + + +=DANCING AT THE WEDDING= + +On leaving their table, the bridal party join the dancing which by now has +begun in the drawing-room where the wedding group received. The bride and +groom dance at first together, and then each with bridesmaids or ushers or +other guests. Sometimes they linger so long that those who had intended +staying for the "going away" grow weary and leave--which is often exactly +what the young couple want! Unless they have to catch a train, they always +stay until the "crowd thins" before going to dress for their journey. At +last the bride signals to her bridesmaids and leaves the room. They all +gather at the foot of the stairs; about half way to the upper landing as +she goes up, she throws her bouquet, and they all try to catch it. The one +to whom it falls is supposed to be the next married. If she has no +bridesmaids, she sometimes collects a group of other young girls and +throws her bouquet to them. + + +=INTO TRAVELING CLOTHES= + +The bride goes up to the room that has always been hers, followed by her +mother, sisters and bridesmaids, who stay with her while she changes into +her traveling clothes. A few minutes after the bride has gone up-stairs, +the groom goes to the room reserved for him, and changes into the ordinary +sack suit which the best man has taken there for him before the ceremony. +He does _not_ wear his top hat nor his wedding boutonniere. The groom's +clothes should be "apparently" new, but need not actually be so. The +bride's clothes, on the other hand, are always brand new--every article +that she has on. + + +=THE GOING-AWAY DRESS= + +A bride necessarily chooses her going-away dress according to the journey +she is to make. If she is starting off in an open motor, she wears a +suitably small motor hat and a wrap of some sort over whatever dress (or +suit) she chooses. If she is going on a train or boat, she wears a +"traveling" dress, such as she would choose under ordinary circumstances. +If she is going to a nearby hotel or a country house put at her disposal, +she wears the sort of dress and hat suitable to town or country occasion. +She should not dress as though about to join a circus parade or the +ornaments on a Christmas tree, unless she wants to be stared at and +commented upon in a way that no one of good breeding can endure. + +The average bride and groom of good taste and feeling try to be as +inconspicuous as possible. On one occasion, in order to hide the fact that +they were "bride and groom," a young couple "went away" in their oldest +clothes and were very much pleased with their cleverness, until, pulling +out his handkerchief, the groom scattered rice all over the floor of the +parlor car. The bride's lament after this was--"Why had she not worn her +prettiest things?" + +The groom, having changed his clothes, waits up-stairs, in the hall +generally, until the bride emerges from her room in her traveling clothes. +All the ushers shake hands with them both. His immediate family, as well +as hers, have gradually collected--any that are missing must unfailingly +be sent for. The bride's mother gives her a last kiss, her bridesmaids +hurry downstairs to have plenty of rice ready and to tell everyone below +as they descend "They are coming!" A passage from the stairway and out of +the front door, all the way to the motor, is left free between two rows of +eager guests, their hands full of rice. Upon the waiting motor the ushers +have tied everything they can lay their hands on in the way of white +ribbons and shoes and slippers. + + +=HERE THEY COME!= + +At last the groom appears at the top of the stairs, a glimpse of the bride +behind him. It surely is running the gauntlet! They seemingly count "one, +two, three, go!" With shoulders hunched and collars held tight to their +necks, they run through shrapnel of rice, down the stairs, out through the +hall, down the outside steps, into the motor, slam the door, and are off! + +The wedding guests stand out on the street or roadway looking after them +for as long as a vestige can be seen--and then gradually disperse. + +Occasionally young couples think it clever to slip out of the area-way, or +over the roofs, or out of the cellar and across the garden. All this is +supposed to be in order to avoid being deluged with rice and having labels +of "newly wed" or large white bows and odd shoes and slippers tied to +their luggage. + +Most brides, however, agree with their guests that it is decidedly "spoil +sport" to deprive a lot of friends (who have only their good luck at +heart) of the perfectly legitimate enjoyment of throwing emblems of good +luck after them. If one white slipper among those thrown after the motor +lands right side up, on top of it, and stays there, greatest good fortune +is sure to follow through life. + +There was a time when the "going away carriage" was always furnished by +the groom, and this is still the case if it is a hired conveyance, but +nowadays when nearly everyone has a motor, the newly married couple--if +they have no motor of their own--are sure to have one lent them by the +family of one of them. Very often they have two motors and are met by a +second car at an appointed place, into which they change after shaking +themselves free of rice. The white ribboned car returns to the house, as +well as the decorated and labeled luggage, which was all empty--their real +luggage having been bestowed safely by the best man that morning in their +hotel or boat or train. Or, it may be that they choose a novel journey, +for there is, of course, no regulation vehicle. They can go off in a +limousine, a pony cart, a yacht, a canoe, on horseback or by airplane. +Fancy alone limits the mode of travel, suggests the destination, or +directs the etiquette of a honeymoon. + + +=BRIDE'S FIRST DUTY OF THOUGHT FOR GROOM'S PARENTS= + +At the end of the wedding there is one thing the bride must not forget. As +soon as she is in her traveling dress, she must send a bridesmaid or +someone out into the hall and ask her husband's parents to come and say +good-by to her. If his parents have not themselves come up-stairs to see +their son, the bride must have them sent for at once! + +It is very easy for a bride to forget this act of thoughtfulness and for a +groom to overlook the fact that he can not stop to kiss his mother good-by +on his way out of the house, and many a mother seeing her son and new +daughter rush past without even a glance from either of them, has returned +home with an ache in her heart. + +It sounds improbable, doesn't it? One naturally exclaims, "But how stupid +of her, why didn't she go up-stairs? Why didn't her son send for her?" +Usually she does, or he does. But often the groom's parents are strangers; +and if by temperament they are shy or retiring people they hesitate to go +up-stairs in an unknown house until they are invited to. So they wait, +feeling sure that in good time they will be sent for. Meanwhile the bride +"forgets" and it does not occur to the groom that unless he makes an +effort while up-stairs there will be no opportunity in the dash down to +the carriage to recognize them--or anyone. + + +=FLIPPANCY VS. RADIANCE= + +A completely beautiful wedding is not merely a combination of wonderful +flowers, beautiful clothes, smoothness of detail, delicious food. These, +though all necessary, are external attributes. The spirit, or soul of it, +must have something besides; and that "something" is in the behavior and +in the expression of the bride and groom. + +The most beautiful wedding ever imagined could be turned from sacrament to +circus by the indecorous behavior of the groom and the flippancy of the +bride. She, above all, must not reach up and wig-wag signals while she is +receiving, any more than she must wave to people as she goes up and down +the aisle of the church. She must not cling to her husband, stand +pigeon-toed, or lean against him or the wall, or any person, or thing. She +must not run her arm through his and let her hand flop on the other side; +she must not swing her arms as though they were dangling rope; she must +not switch herself this way and that, nor must she "hello" or shout. No +matter how young or "natural" and thoughtless she may be, she _must_, +during the ceremony and the short time that she stands beside her husband +at the reception, assume that she has dignity. + +It is not by chance that the phrase "happy pair" is one of the most trite +in our language, for happiness above all is the inner essential that must +dominate a perfect wedding. An unhappy looking bride, an unwilling looking +groom, turns the greatest wedding splendor into sham; without love it is a +sacrament inadvisedly entered into, and the sight of a tragic-faced bride +strikes chill to the heart. + +The radiance of a truly happy bride is so beautifying that even a plain +girl is made pretty, and a pretty one, divine. There is something glad yet +sweet, shy yet triumphant, serious yet--radiant! There is no other way to +put it. And a happy groom looks first of all protective--he, too, may have +the quality of radiance, but it is different--more directly glad. They +both look as though there were sunlight behind their eyes, as though their +mouths irresistibly turned to smiles. No other quality of a bride's +expression is so beautiful as radiance; that visible proof of perfect +happiness which endears its possessor to all beholders and gives to the +simplest little wedding complete beauty. + + +=THE HOUSE WEDDING= + +A house wedding involves slightly less expenditure but has the +disadvantage of limiting the number of guests. The ceremony is exactly the +same as that in a church, excepting that the procession advances through +an aisle of white satin ribbons from the stairs down which the bridal +party descends, to the improvised altar. A small space near the altar is +fenced off with other ribbons, for the family. There is a low rail of some +sort back of which the clergyman stands, and something for the bride and +groom to kneel on during the prayers of the ceremony. The prayer bench is +usually about six or eight inches high, and between three and four feet +long; at the back of it an upright on either end supports a crosspiece--or +altar rail. It can be made in roughest fashion by any carpenter, or +amateur, as it is entirely hidden under leaves and flowers. On the +kneeling surface of the bench are placed cushions rather than flowers, +because the latter stain. All caterers have the necessary standards to +which ribbons are tied, like the wires to telegraph poles. The top of each +standard is usually decorated with a spray of white flowers. + +At a house wedding the bride's mother stands at the door of the +drawing-room--or wherever the ceremony is to be--and receives people as +they arrive. But the groom's mother merely takes her place near the altar +with the rest of the immediate family. The ushers are purely ornamental, +unless the house is so large that "pews" have been installed, and the +guests are seated as in a church. Otherwise the guests stand wherever they +can find places behind the aisle ribbons. Just before the bride's +entrance, her mother goes forward and stands in the reserved part of the +room. The ushers go up to the top of the stairway. The wedding march +begins and the ushers come down two and two, followed by the bridesmaids, +exactly as in a church, the bride coming last on her father's arm. The +clergyman and the groom and best man have, if possible, reached the altar +by another door. If the room has only one door, they go up the aisle a few +moments before the bridal procession starts. + +The chief difference between a church and house wedding is that the bride +and groom do not take a single step together. The groom meets her at the +point where the service is read. After the ceremony, there is no +recessional. The clergyman withdraws, an usher removes the prayer bench, +and the bride and groom merely turn where they stand, and receive the +congratulations of their guests, unless, of course, the house is so big +that they receive in another room. + +[Illustration: "AN ATTRACTIVE ALTAR ARRANGEMENT FOR A HOUSE WEDDING." +[Page 374.]] + +When there is no recessional, the groom always kisses the bride before +they turn to receive their guests--it is against all tradition for any one +to kiss her before her husband does. + +There are seldom many bridal attendants at a house wedding, two to four +ushers, and one to four bridesmaids, unless the house is an immense one. + +In the country a house wedding includes one in a garden, with a wedding +procession under the trees, and tables out on the lawn--a perfect plan for +California or other rainless States, but difficult to arrange on the +Atlantic seaboard where rain is too likely to spoil everything. + + +=THE WEDDING IN ASSEMBLY ROOMS= + +Those whose houses are very small and yet who wish to have a general +reception, sometimes give the wedding breakfast in a hotel or assembly +rooms. The preparations are identical with those in a private house, the +decorations and menu may be lavish or simple. Although it is perfectly +good form to hold a wedding reception in a ballroom, a breakfast in a +private house, no matter how simple, has greater distinction than the most +elaborate collation in a public establishment. Why this is so, is hard to +determine. It is probably that without a "home" atmosphere, though it may +be a brilliant entertainment, the sentiment is missing. + + +=THE SECOND MARRIAGE= + +The detail of a spinster's wedding is the same whether she marries a +bachelor or a widower, the difference being that a widower does not give a +"bachelor" dinner. + +The marriage of a widow is the same as that of a maid except that she +cannot wear white or orange blossoms, which are emblems of virginity, nor +does she have bridesmaids. Usually a widow chooses a very quiet wedding, +but there is no reason why she should not have a "big wedding" if she +cares to, except that somber ushers and a bride in traveling dress, or at +best a light afternoon one with a hat, does not make an effective +processional--unless she is beautiful enough to compensate for all that is +missing. + +A wedding in very best taste for a widow would be a ceremony in a small +church or chapel, a few flowers or palms in the chancel the only +decoration, and two to four ushers. There are no ribboned-off seats, as +only very intimate friends are asked. The bride wears an afternoon street +dress and hat. Her dress for a church ceremony should be more conventional +than if she were married at home, where she could wear a semi-evening gown +and substitute a headdress for a hat. She could even wear a veil if it is +colored and does not suggest the bridal white one. + +A celebrated beauty wore for her second wedding in her own house, a dress +of gold brocade, with a Russian court headdress and a veil of yellow tulle +down the back. Another wore a dress of gray and a Dutch cap of silver +lace, and had her little girl in quaint cap and long dress, to match her +own, as maid of honor. + +A widow has never more than one attendant and most often none. There may +be a sit-down breakfast afterwards, or the simplest afternoon tea; in any +case, the breakfast is, if possible, at the bride's own house, and the +bridal pair may either stay where they are and have their guests take +leave of them, or themselves drive away afterwards. + +Very intimate friends send presents for a second marriage but general +acquaintances are never expected to. + + +=SUMMARY OF EXPENSES= + +All the expenses of a wedding belong to the bride's parents; the +invitations are issued by them, the reception is at their house, and the +groom's family are little more than ordinary guests. The cost of a wedding +varies as much as the cost of anything else that one has or does. A big +fashionable wedding can total far up in the thousands and even the +simplest entails considerable outlay, which can, however, be modified by +those who are capable of doing things themselves instead of employing +professional service at every point. + + +=THE PARENTS OF THE BRIDE PROVIDE= + +1. Engraved invitations and cards. + +2. The service of a professional secretary who compiles a single list from +the various ones sent her, addresses the envelopes, both inner and outer; +encloses the proper number of cards, seals, stamps and mails all the +invitations. (This item can be omitted and the work done by the family.) + +3. The biggest item of expense--the trousseau of the bride, which may +consist not alone of wearing apparel of endless variety and lavish detail, +but household linen of finest quality (priceless in these days) and in +quantity sufficient for a lifetime; or it may consist of the wedding +dress, and even that a traveling one, and one or two others, with barest +essentials and few accessories. + +4. Awnings for church and house. This may be omitted at the house in good +weather, at the church, and also in the country. + +5. Decorations of church and house. Cost can be eliminated by amateurs +using garden or field flowers. + +6. Choir, soloists and organist at church. (Choir and soloists +unnecessary.) + +7. Orchestra at house. (This may mean fifty pieces with two leaders or it +may mean a piano, violin and drum, or a violin, harp and guitar.) + +8. Carriages or motors for the bridal party from house to church and back. + +9. The collation, which may be the most elaborate sit-down luncheon or the +simplest afternoon tea. + +10. Boxes of wedding cake. + +11. Champagne--used to be one of the biggest items, as a fashionable +wedding without plenty of it was unheard of. Perhaps though, pocketbooks +may have less relief on account of its omission than would at first seem +probable, since what is saved on the wine bill is made up for on the +additional food necessary to make the best wineless menu seem other than +meagre. + +12. The bride's presents to her bridesmaids. (May be jewels of value or +trinkets of trifling cost.) + +13. A wedding present to the bride from each member of her family--not +counting her trousseau which is merely part of the wedding. + +14. The bride gives a "wedding present" or a "wedding" ring or both to the +groom, if she especially wants to. (Not necessary nor even customary.) + + +=THE GROOM'S EXPENSES ARE= + +1. The engagement ring--as handsome as he can possibly afford. + +2. A wedding present--jewels if he is able, always something for her +personal adornment. + +3. His bachelor dinner. + +4. The marriage license. + +5. A personal gift to his best man and each of his ushers. + +6. To each of the above he gives their wedding ties, gloves and +boutonnieres. + +7. The bouquet carried by the bride. In many cities it is said to be the +custom for the bride to send boutonnieres to the ushers and for the groom +to order the bouquets of the bridesmaids. In New York's smart world, the +bridesmaids' bouquets are looked upon as part of the decorative +arrangement, all of which is in the province of the bride's parents. + +8. The wedding ring. + +9. The clergyman's fee. + +10. From the moment the bride and groom start off on their wedding trip, +all the expenditure becomes his. + + +=WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES= + + 1 year, paper + 5 years, wood + 10 years, tin + 15 years, crystal + 20 years, china + 25 years, silver + 50 years, gold + 75 years, diamond + +Wedding anniversaries are celebrated in any number of ways. The "party" +may be one of two alone or it may be a dance. Most often it is a dinner, +and occasionally, an afternoon tea. + +In Germany a silver wedding is a very important event and a great +celebration is made of it, but in America it is not very good form to ask +any but intimate friends and family to an anniversary party--especially as +those bidden are supposed to send presents. These need not, however, be of +value; in fact the paper, wooden and tin wedding presents are seldom +anything but jokes. Crystal is the earliest that is likely to be taken +seriously by the gift-bearers. Silver is always serious, and the golden +wedding a quite sacred event. + +Most usually this last occasion is celebrated by a large family dinner to +which all the children and grandchildren are bidden. Or the married couple +perhaps choose an afternoon at home and receive their friends and +neighbors, who are, of course, supposed to brings presents made of gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +CHRISTENINGS + + +A child can, of course, be christened without making a festivity of it at +all--just as two people can be married with none but the clergyman and two +witnesses--but nearly every mother takes this occasion to see her friends +and show her baby to them. + +Invitations to a christening are never formal, because none but the family +and a very few intimate friends are supposed to be asked. In this day +invitations are nearly all sent over the telephone, except to those who +are at a distance, or else friends are asked verbally when seen; but it is +both correct and polite to write notes. Such as: + + Dear Mrs. Kindhart: + + The baby is to be christened here at home, next Sunday at half + past four, and we hope you and Mr. Kindhart--and the children if + they care to--will come. + + Affectionately, + Lucy Gilding. + +If a telephone message is sent, the form is: + + "Mr. and Mrs. Gilding, Jr. would like Mr. and Mrs. Norman to come + to the baby's christening on Sunday at half past four, at their + house." + + +=ASKING THE GODPARENTS= + +Before setting the date for the christening, the godmothers (two for a +girl and one for a boy) and the godfathers (two for a boy and one for a +girl) have, of course, already been chosen. + +If a godfather (or mother) after having given his consent is abroad or +otherwise out of reach at the time of the christening, a proxy takes part +in the ceremony instead, and without thereby becoming a godfather. Since +godparents are always most intimate friends, it is natural to ask them +when they come to see the mother and the baby (which they probably do +often) or to write them if at a distance. Sometimes they are asked at the +same time that the baby's arrival is announced to them, occasionally even +before. + +The Gilding baby, for instance, supposedly sent the following telegram: + + Mrs. Richard Worldly, + Great Estates. + + I arrived last night and my mother and father were very glad to + see me, and I am now eagerly waiting to see you. + + Your loving godson, + Robert Gilding, 3d. + +But more usually a godparent at a distance is telegraphed: + + John Strong, + Equitrust, Paris. + + It's a boy. Will you be godfather? + Gilding. + +But in any case a formally worded request is out of place. Do _not_ write: + +"My husband and I sincerely hope that you will consent to be our son's +godmother," etc. Any one so slightly known as this wording implies would +not be asked to fill so close a position as that of godmother without +great presumption on your part. + +You must never ask any one to be a godmother or godfather whom you do not +know intimately well, as it is a responsibility not lightly to be +undertaken and impossible to refuse. Godparents should, however, be chosen +from among friends rather than relatives, since the sole advantage of +godparents is that they add to the child's relatives, so that if it +should be left alone in the world, its godparents become its protectors. +But where a child is born with plenty of relatives who can be called upon +for advice and affection and assistance in event of his or her becoming an +orphan, godparents are often chosen from among them. Nothing could be more +senseless, however, than choosing grandparents, since the relationship is +as close as can be anyway, and the chances that the parents will outlive +their own parents make such a choice still more unsuitable. + +In France, the godmother is considered, next to the parents and +grandparents, the nearest relative a child can have. In some European +countries, the Queen or another who is above the parents in rank, assumes +a special protectorate over her godchild. In this instance the godmother +appoints herself. + +In America a similar situation cannot very well exist; though on rare +occasions an employer volunteers to stand as godfather for an employee's +child. Godparents must, of course, give the baby a present, if not before, +at least at the christening. The standard "gift" is a silver mug, a +porringer, or a knife, fork and spoon, marked usually with the baby's name +and that of the giver. + + Robert Gilding, 3d + From his godfather + John Strong + +Or the presents may be anything else they fancy. In New England a very +rich godfather sometimes gives the baby a bond which is kept with interest +intact until a girl is eighteen or a boy twenty-one. + + +=TIME OF CHRISTENING= + +In other days of stricter observances a baby was baptized in the Catholic +and high Episcopal church on the first or at least second Sunday after its +birth. But to-day the christening is usually delayed at least until the +young mother is up and about again; often it is put off for months and in +some denominations children need not be christened until they are several +years old. The most usual age is from two to six months. + +If the family is very high church or the baby is delicate and its +christening therefore takes place when it is only a week or two old, the +mother is carried into the drawing-room and put on a sofa near the +improvised font. She is dressed in a becoming neglige and perhaps a cap, +and with lace pillows behind her and a cover equally decorative over her +feet. The guests in this event are only the family and the fewest possible +intimate friends. + + +=THE CHRISTENING IN CHURCH= + +In arranging for the ceremony the clergyman, of course, is consulted and +the place and hour arranged. If it is to be in church, it can take place +at the close of the regular service on Sunday, but if a good deal is to be +made of the christening, a week day is chosen and an hour when the church +is not being otherwise used. + +The decorations, if any at all, consist of a few palms or some flowering +plants grouped around the font, and the guests invited for the christening +take places in the pews which are nearest to the font, wherever that +happens to be. As soon as the clergyman appears, the baby's coat and cap +are taken off (in any convenient pew, not necessarily the nearest one), +and the godmother, holding the baby in her arms, stands directly in front +of the clergyman. The other godparents stand beside her and other +relatives and friends nearby. + +The godmother who is holding the baby must be sure to pronounce its name +distinctly--in fact it is a wise precaution if it is a long or an unusual +one, to show the name printed on a slip of paper to the clergyman +beforehand--as more than one baby has been given a name not intended for +it. And whatever name the clergyman pronounces is fixed for life. The +little Town girl who was to have been called Marian is actually Mary Ann! + +As soon as the ceremony is over, the godmother hands the baby back to its +nurse, who puts on its cap and coat, and it is then driven with all its +relatives and friends to the house of its parents or grandparents, where a +lunch or an afternoon tea has been arranged. + + +=HOUSE CHRISTENING= + +Unless forbidden by the church to which the baby's parents belong, the +house christening is by far the easier, safer and prettier. Easier, +because the baby does not have to have wraps put on and off and be taken +out and brought in; safer, because it is not apt to catch cold; and +prettier, for a dozen reasons. + +The baby in the first place looks much prettier in a dress that has not +been crushed by having a coat put over it and taken off and put on and off +again. In the second place, a baby brought down from the nursery without +any fussing is generally "good," whereas one that has been dressed and +undressed and taken hither and yon is apt to be upset and therefore to +cry. If it cries in church it just has to cry! In a house it can be taken +into another room and be brought back again after it has been made "more +comfortable." It is trying to a young mother who is proud of her baby's +looks, to go to no end of trouble to get exquisite clothes for it, and ask +all her friends in, and then have it look exactly like a tragedy mask +carved in a beet! And you can scarcely expect a self-respecting baby who +is hauled and mauled and taken to a strange place and handed to a strange +person who pours cold water on it--not to protest. And alas! it has only +one means. + +The arrangements made for a house christening are something like those +made for a house wedding--only much simpler. The drawing-room or wherever +the ceremony is to be performed is often decorated with pots of pale pink +roses, or daisies, or branches of dogwood or white lilacs. Nothing is +prettier than the blossoms of fruit trees (if they can be persuaded to +keep their petals on) or any other spring flowers. In summer there are all +the garden flowers. In autumn, cosmos and white chrysanthemums, or at any +season, baby's breath and roses. + +The "font" is always a bowl--of silver usually--put on a small high table. +A white napkin on the table inevitably suggests a restaurant rather than a +ritual and is therefore unfortunate, and most people of taste prefer to +have the table covered with old church brocade and an arrangement of +flowers either standing behind or laid upon it so that the stems are +toward the center and covered by the base of the bowl. + +If the clergyman is to wear vestments, a room must be put at his disposal. + +At the hour set for the ceremony, the clergyman enters the room first and +takes his place at the font. The guests naturally make way, forming an +open aisle. If not, the baby's father or another member of the family +clears an aisle. The godmother carries the baby and follows the clergyman; +the other two godparents walk behind her, and all three stand near the +font. At the proper moment the clergyman takes the baby, baptizes it and +hands it back to the godmother, who holds it until the ceremony is over. + + +=THE CHRISTENING DRESS= + +The christening dress is always especially elaborate and beautiful. Often +it is one that was worn by the baby's mother, father, or even its grand or +great-grandparent. Baby clothes should be as sheer as possible and as +soft. The ideal dress is of mull with much or little valenciennes lace +(real) and finest hand embroidery. But however much or little its +trimming, it must be exquisite in texture. In fact, everything for a baby +ought to be hand-made. It can be as plain as a charity garment, but of +fine material and tiny hand stitches. If the baby is very little, it is +usually laid on a lace trimmed pillow. (This lace, too, must be +valenciennes.) + +The godmother or godmothers should wear the sort of clothes that they +would wear at an afternoon tea. The godfather or fathers should wear +formal afternoon clothes. The other guests wear ordinary afternoon +clothes and the mother--unless on the sofa--wears a light-colored +afternoon dress. She should not wear black on this occasion. + +As soon as the ceremony is performed, the clergyman goes to the room that +was set apart for him, changes into his ordinary clothes and then returns +to the drawing-room to be one of the guests at luncheon or tea. The +godmother hands the baby to the nurse, or maybe to its mother, and +everyone gathers around to admire it. And the party becomes exactly like +every informal afternoon tea. + +The only difference between an ordinary informal tea and a christening is +that a feature of the latter is a christening cake and caudle. The +christening cake is generally a white "lady" cake elaborately iced, +sometimes with the baby's initials, and garlands of pink sugar roses. And +although according to cook-books caudle is a gruel, the actual "caudle" +invariably served at christenings is a hot eggnog, drunk out of little +punch cups. One is supposed to eat the cake as a sign that one partakes of +the baby's hospitality, and is therefore its friend, and to drink the +caudle to its health and prosperity. But by this time the young host (or +hostess) is peacefully asleep in the nursery. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FUNERALS + + +At no time does solemnity so possess our souls as when we stand deserted +at the brink of darkness into which our loved one has gone. And the last +place in the world where we would look for comfort at such a time is in +the seeming artificiality of etiquette; yet it is in the moment of deepest +sorrow that etiquette performs its most vital and real service. + +All set rules for social observance have for their object the smoothing of +personal contacts, and in nothing is smoothness so necessary as in +observing the solemn rites accorded our dead. + +It is the time-worn servitor, Etiquette, who draws the shades, who muffles +the bell, who keeps the house quiet, who hushes voices and footsteps and +sudden noises; who stands between well-meaning and importunate outsiders +and the retirement of the bereaved; who decrees that the last rites shall +be performed smoothly and with beauty and gravity, so that the poignancy +of grief may in so far as possible be assuaged. + + +=FIRST DETAILS= + +As soon as death occurs, some one (the trained nurse usually) draws the +blinds in the sick-room and tells a servant to draw all the blinds of the +house. + +If they are not already present, the first act of some one at the bedside +is to telephone or telegraph the immediate members of the family, the +clergyman and the sexton of the church to which the family belong, and +possibly one or two closest friends, whose competence and sympathy can be +counted on--as there are many things which must be done for the stricken +family as well as for the deceased. (The sexton of nearly every Protestant +church is also undertaker. If he is not, then an outside funeral director +is sent for.) + +If the illness has been a long one, it may be that the family has become +attached to the trained nurse and no one is better fitted than she to turn +her ministrations from the one whom she can no longer help, to those who +have now very real need of just such care as she can give. + +If the death was sudden, or the nurse unsympathetic or for other reasons +unavailable, then a relative or a near friend of practical sympathy is the +ideal attendant in charge. + + +=CONSIDERATION FOR THE FAMILY= + +Persons under the shock of genuine affliction are not only upset mentally +but are all unbalanced physically. No matter how calm and controlled they +seemingly may be, no one can under such circumstances be normal. Their +disturbed circulation makes them cold, their distress makes them unstrung, +sleepless. Persons they normally like, they often turn from. No one should +ever be forced upon those in grief, and all over-emotional people, no +matter how near or dear, should be barred absolutely. Although the +knowledge that their friends love them and sorrow for them is a great +solace, the nearest afflicted must be protected from any one or anything +which is likely to overstrain nerves already at the threatening point, and +none have the right to feel hurt if they are told they can neither be of +use nor be received. At such a time, to some people companionship is a +comfort, others shrink from dearest friends. One who is by choice or +accident selected to come in contact with those in new affliction should, +like a trained nurse, banish all consciousness of self; otherwise he or +she will be or no service--and service is the only gift of value that can +be offered. + + +=FIRST AID TO THE BEREAVED= + +First of all, the ones in sorrow should be urged if possible to sit in a +sunny room and where there is an open fire. If they feel unequal to going +to the table, a very little food should be taken to them on a tray. A cup +of tea or coffee or bouillon, a little thin toast, a poached egg, milk if +they like it hot, or milk toast. Cold milk is bad for one who is already +over-chilled. The cook may suggest something that appeals usually to their +taste--but very little should be offered at a time, for although the +stomach may be empty, the palate rejects the thought of food, and +digestion is never in best order. + +It sounds paradoxical to say that those in sorrow should be protected from +all contacts, and yet that they must be constantly asked about +arrangements and given little time to remain utterly undisturbed. They +must think of people they want sent for, and they must decide the details +of the funeral; when they would like it held, and whether in church or at +the house, whether they want special music or flowers ordered, and where +the interment is to be. + + +=ON DUTY AT DOOR= + +A friend or a servant is always stationed in the hall to open the door, +receive notes and cards, and to take messages. In a big house the butler +in his day clothes should answer the bell, with the parlor-maid to assist +him, until a footman can procure a black livery and take his or her place. +A parlor-maid or waitress at the door should wear either a black or gray +dress, with her plainest white apron, collar and cuffs. + + +=MEMBER OF FAMILY IN CHARGE= + +A close friend or male member of the family should be--if not at the +door--as near the front hall as possible to see the countless people with +whom details have to be arranged, to admit to a member of the family +anyone they may want to see, and to give news to, or take messages from, +others. + +As people come to the house to enquire and offer their services, he gives +them commissions the occasion requires. The first friend who hurries to +the house (in answer to the telephone message which announced the death) +is asked to break the news to an invalid connection of the family, or he +may be sent to the florist to order the bell hung, or to the station to +meet a child arriving from school. + + +=NOTICE TO PAPERS= + +The sexton (or other funeral director) sends the notices to the daily +papers announcing the death, and the time and place of the funeral. The +form is generally selected by a member of the family from among those +appearing in that day's newspapers. These notices are paid for by the +sexton and put on his bill. + +With the exception of the telephone messages or telegrams to relatives and +very intimate friends, no other notices are sent out. Only those persons +who are expected to go to the house at once have messages sent to them; +all others are supposed to read the notice in the papers. When the notice +reads "funeral private" and neither place nor time is given, very intimate +friends are supposed to ask for these details at the house; others +understand they are not expected. + + +=HANGING THE BELL= + +As a rule the funeral director hangs crepe streamers on the bell; white +ones for a child, black and white for a young person, or black for an +older person. This signifies to the passerby that it is a house of +mourning so that the bell will not be rung unnecessarily nor long. + +If they prefer, the family sometimes orders a florist to hang a bunch of +violets or other purple flowers on black ribbon streamers, for a grown +person; or white violets, white carnations--any white flower without +leaves--on the black ribbon for a young woman or man; or white flowers on +white gauze or ribbon for a child. + + +=CHECKING EXPENSES IN ADVANCE= + +It is curious that long association with the sadness of death seems to +have deprived an occasional funeral director of all sense of moderation. +Whether the temptation of "good business" gradually undermines his +character--knowing as he does that bereaved families ask no questions--or +whether his profession is merely devoid of taste, he will, if not checked, +bring the most ornate and expensive casket in his establishment: he will +perform every rite that his professional ingenuity for expenditure can +devise; he will employ every attendant he has; he will order vehicles +numerous enough for the cortege of a president; he will even, if thrown in +contact with a bewildered chief-mourner, secure a pledge for the erection +of an elaborate mausoleum. + +Some one, therefore, who has the family's interest at heart and knows +their taste and purse, should go personally to the establishment of the +undertaker, and not only select the coffin, but go carefully into the +specification of all other details, so that everything necessary may be +arranged for, and unnecessary items omitted. + +This does not imply that a family that prefers a very elaborate funeral +should not be allowed to have one; but the great majority of people have +moderate, rather than unlimited means, and it is not unheard of that a +small estate is seriously depleted by vulgarly lavish and entirely +inappropriate funeral expenses. One would be a poor sort who for the sake +of friends would not willingly endure a little troublesome inquiry, rather +than witness a display of splurge and bad taste and realize at the same +time that the friends who might have been protected will be deluged with +bills which it cannot but embarrass them to pay. + + +=HONORARY PALLBEARERS= + +The member of the family who is in charge will ask either when they come +to the house, or by telephone or telegraph if they are at a distance, six +or eight men who are close friends of the deceased to be the pallbearers. +When a man has been prominent in public life, he may have twelve or more +from among his political or business associates as well as his lifelong +social friends. Near relatives are never chosen, as their place is with +the women of the family. For a young woman, her own friends or those of +her family are chosen. It is a service that may not under any +circumstances except serious ill-health, be refused. + +The one in charge will tell the pallbearers where they are to meet. It +used to be customary for them to go to the house on the morning of the +funeral and drive to the church behind the hearse, but as everything +tending to a conspicuous procession is being gradually done away with, it +is often preferred to have them wait in the vestibule of the church. + +Honorary pallbearers serve only at church funerals; They do not carry the +coffin for the reason that, being unaccustomed to bearing such a burden, +one of them might possibly stumble, or at least give an impression of +uncertainty or awkwardness that might detract from the solemnity of the +occasion. The sexton's assistants are trained for this service, so as to +prevent in so far as is humanly possible a blundering occurrence. + + +=MOURNING FOR FUNERAL= + +Among those who come to the house there is sure to be a woman friend of +the family whose taste and method of expenditure is similar to theirs. She +looks through the clothes they have, to see if there is not a black dress +or suit that can be used, and makes a list of only the necessary articles +which will have to be procured. + +All dressmaking establishments give precedence to mourning orders and will +fill a commission within twenty-four hours. These first things are made +invariably without bothering the wearer with fitting. Alterations, if +required, are made later. + +Or the mourning departments of the big stores and specialty shops are +always willing to send a selection on approval, so that a choice can be +made by the family in the privacy of their own rooms. Nearly always +acquaintances who are themselves in mourning offer to lend crepe veils, +toques and wraps, so that the garments which must be bought at first may +be as few as possible. Most women have a plain black suit, or dress, the +trimming of which can quickly be replaced with crepe by a maid or a +friend. + +Most men are of standard size and can go to a clothier and buy a +ready-made black suit. Otherwise they must borrow, or wear what they have, +as no tailor can make a suit in twenty-four hours. + + +="SITTING UP" NO LONGER CUSTOMARY= + +Unless the deceased was a prelate or personage whose lying-in-state is a +public ceremony, or unless it is the especial wish of the relatives, the +solemn vigil through long nights by the side of the coffin is no longer +essential as a mark of veneration or love for the departed. + +Nor is the soulless body dressed in elaborate trappings of farewell +grandeur. Everything to-day is done to avoid unnecessary evidence of the +change that has taken place. In case of a very small funeral the person +who has passed away is sometimes left lying in bed in night clothes, or on +a sofa in a wrapper, with flowers, but no set pieces, about the room, so +that an invalid or other sensitive bereft one may say farewell without +ever seeing the all too definite finality of a coffin. In any event the +last attentions are paid in accordance with the wish of those most nearly +concerned. + + +=EXTRA WORK FOR SERVANTS= + +Kindness of heart is latent in all of us, and servants, even if they have +not been long with a family, rise to the emergency of such a time as that +of a funeral, which always puts additional work upon them and often leaves +them to manage under their own initiative. The house is always full of +people, family and intimate friends occupy all available accommodation, +but it is a rare household which does not give sympathy as generously +below stairs as above; and he or she would be thought very heartless by +their companions who did not willingly and helpfully assume a just share +of the temporary tax on energy, time and consideration. + + +=CHURCH FUNERAL= + +The church funeral is the more trying, in that the family have to leave +the seclusion of their house and face a congregation. On the other hand, +many who find solemnity only in a church service with the added beauty of +choir and organ, prefer to take their heartrending farewell in the House +of God. + + +=ARRANGING AND RECORDING FLOWERS= + +An hour before the time for the service, if the family is Protestant, one +or two woman friends go to the church to arrange the flowers which are +placed about the chancel. Unless they have had unusual practise in such +arrangement they should, if possible, have the assistance of a florist, as +effective grouping and fastening of heavy wreaths and sprays is apt to +overtax the ingenuity of novices, no matter how perfect their usual taste +may be. + +Whoever takes charge of the flowers must be sure to collect carefully all +the notes and cards. They should always take extra pencils in case the +points break, and write on the outside of each envelope a description of +the flowers that the card was sent with. + +"Spray of Easter lilies and palm branches tied with white ribbon." +"Wreath of laurel leaves and gardenias." +"Long sheaf of pink roses and white lilacs." + +These descriptions will afterwards help identify and recall the flowers +when notes of thanks are sent. + +As the appointed time for the funeral draws near, the organ plays softly, +the congregation gradually fills the church. The first pews on either side +of the center aisle are left empty. + + +=THE PROCESSIONAL= + +At the appointed time the funeral procession forms in the vestibule. If +there is to be a choral service the minister and the choir enter the +church from the rear, and precede the funeral cortege. Directly after the +choir and clergy come the pallbearers, two by two, then the coffin covered +with flowers and then the family--the chief mourner comes first, leaning +upon the arm of her closest male relative. Usually each man is escort for +a woman, but two women or two men may walk together according to the +division of the family. If the deceased is one of four sons where there is +no daughter, the mother and father walk immediately behind the body of +their child, followed by the two elder sons and behind them the younger, +with the nearest woman relative. If there is a grandmother, she walks with +the eldest son and the younger two follow together. If it is a family of +daughters who are following their father, the eldest daughter may walk +with her mother, or the mother may walk with her brother, or a son-in-law. +Although the arrangement of the procession is thus fixed, those in +affliction should be placed next to the one whose nearness may be of most +comfort to them. A younger child who is calm and soothing would better be +next to his mother than an older who is of more nervous temperament. + +At the funeral of a woman, her husband sometimes walks alone, but usually +with his mother or his daughter. A very few intimate friends walk at the +rear of the family, followed by the servants of the household. At the +chancel the choir take their accustomed places, the minister stands at the +foot of the chancel steps, the honorary pallbearers take their places in +the front pews on the left, and the coffin is set upon a stand previously +placed there for the purpose. The bearers of the coffin walk quietly +around to inconspicuous stations on a side aisle. The family occupy the +front pews on the right, the rest of the procession fill vacant places on +either side. The service is then read. + + +=THE RECESSIONAL= + +Upon the conclusion of the service, the procession moves out in the same +order as it came in excepting that the choir remain in their places and +the honorary pallbearers go first. Outside the church, the coffin is put +into the hearse, the family getting into carriages or motors waiting +immediately behind, and the flowers are put into a covered vehicle. (It is +very vulgar to fill open landaus with displayed floral offerings and +parade through the streets.) + + +=FEW GO TO THE BURIAL= + +If the burial is in the churchyard or otherwise within walking distance, +the congregation naturally follows the family to the graveside. Otherwise, +the general congregation no longer expects, nor wishes, to go to the +interment which (excepting at a funeral of public importance) is witnessed +only by the immediate family and the most intimate friends, who are asked +if they "care to go." The long line of carriages that used to stand at the +church ready to be filled with a long file of mere acquaintances is a +barbarous thing of the past. + + +=HOUSE FUNERAL= + +Many people prefer a house funeral--it is simpler, more private, and +obviates the necessity for those in sorrow to face people. The nearest +relatives may stay apart in an adjoining room or even upon the upper +floor, where they can hear the service but remain in unseen seclusion. + +Ladies keep their wraps on. Gentlemen wear their overcoats or carry them +on their arms and hold their hats in their hands. + + +=MUSIC= + +To many people there is lack of solemnity in a service outside of a church +and lacking the accompaniment of the organ. It is almost impossible to +introduce orchestral music that does not sound either dangerously +suggestive of the gaiety of entertainment or else thin and flat. A quartet +or choral singing is beautiful and appropriate, if available, otherwise +there is usually no music at a house funeral. + + +=HOUSE ARRANGEMENT= + +Some authorities say that only the flowers sent by very close friends +should be shown at a house funeral, and that it is ostentatious to make a +display. But when people, or societies, have been kind enough to send +flowers, it would certainly be wanting in appreciation, to say the least, +to relegate their offerings to the back yard--or wherever it is that the +cavilers would have them hid! + +In a small house where flowers would be overpowering, it is customary to +insert in the death notice: "It is requested that no flowers be sent," or +"Kindly omit flowers." + +Arrangement for the service is usually made in the drawing-room, and the +coffin is placed in front of the mantel, or between the windows, but +always at a distance from the door, usually on stands brought by the +funeral director, who also brings enough camp chairs to fill the room +without crowding. A friend, or a member of the family, collects the cards +and arranges the flowers behind and at the side and against the stands of +the coffin. If there is to be a blanket or pall of smilax or other leaves +with or without flowers, fastened to a frame, or sewed on thin material +and made into a covering, it is always ordered by the family. Otherwise, +the wreaths to be placed on the coffin are chosen from among those sent by +the family. + + +=THE SERVICE= + +As friends arrive, they are shown to the room where the ceremony is to be +held, but they take their own places. A room must be apportioned to the +minister in which to put on his vestments. At the hour set for the funeral +the immediate family, if they feel like being present, take their places +in the front row of chairs. The women wear small hats or toques and long +crepe veils over their faces, so that their countenances may be hidden. +The minister takes his stand at the head of the coffin and reads the +service. + +At its conclusion the coffin is carried out to the hearse, which, followed +by a small number of carriages, proceeds to the cemetery. + +It is very rare nowadays for any but a small group of relatives and +intimate men friends to go to the cemetery, and it is not thought unloving +or slighting of the dead for no women at all to be at the graveside. If +any women are to be present and the interment is to be in the ground, some +one should order the grave lined with boughs and green branches--to lessen +the impression of bare earth. + + +=DISTANT COUNTRY FUNERAL= + +In the country where relatives and friends arrive by train, carriages or +motors must be provided to convey them to the house or church or cemetery. +If the clergyman has no conveyance of his own, he must always be sent for, +and if the funeral is in a house, a room must be set apart for him in +which to change his clothes. + +It is unusual for a family to provide a "special car." Sometimes the hour +of the funeral is announced in the papers as taking place on the arrival +of a certain train, but everyone who attends is expected to pay his own +railway fare and make, if necessary, his own arrangements for lunch. + +Only when the country place where the funeral is held is at a distance +from town and a long drive from the railway station, a light repast of +bouillon, rolls and tea and sandwiches may be spread on the dining-room +table. Otherwise refreshments are never offered--except to those of the +family, of course, who are staying in the house. + + +=HOUSE RESTORED TO ORDER= + +While the funeral cortege is still at the cemetery, some one who is in +charge at home must see that the mourning emblem is taken off the bell, +that the windows are opened, the house aired from the excessive odor of +flowers, and the blinds pulled up. Any furniture that has been displaced +should be put back where it belongs, and unless the day is too hot a fire +should be lighted in the library or principal bedroom to make a little +more cheerful the sad home-coming of the family. It is also well to +prepare a little hot tea or broth, and it should be brought them upon +their return without their being asked if they would care for it. Those +who are in great distress want no food, but if it is handed to them, they +will mechanically take it, and something warm to start digestion and +stimulate impaired circulation is what they most need. + + +=MOURNING= + +A generation or two ago the regulations for mourning were definitely +prescribed, definite periods according to the precise degree of +relationship of the mourner. One's real feelings, whether of grief or +comparative indifference, had nothing to do with the outward manifestation +one was obliged, in decency, to show. The tendency to-day is toward +sincerity. People do not put on black for aunts, uncles and cousins unless +there is a deep tie of affection as well as of blood. + +Many persons to-day do not believe in going into mourning at all. There +are some who believe, as do the races of the East, that great love should +be expressed in rejoicing in the re-birth of a beloved spirit instead of +selfishly mourning their own earthly loss. But many who object to +manifestations of grief, find themselves impelled to wear mourning when +their sorrow comes and the number of those who do not put on black is +still comparatively small. + + +=PROTECTION OF MOURNING= + +If you see acquaintances of yours in deepest mourning, it does not occur +to you to go up to them and babble trivial topics or ask them to a dance +or dinner. If you pass close to them, irresistible sympathy compels you +merely to stop and press their hand and pass on. A widow, or mother, in +the newness of her long veil, has her hard path made as little difficult +as possible by everyone with whom she comes in contact, no matter on what +errand she may be bent. A clerk in a store will try to wait on her as +quickly and as attentively as possible. Acquaintances avoid stopping her +with long conversation that could not but torture and distress her. She +meets small kindnesses at every turn, which save unnecessary jars to +supersensitive nerves. + +Once in a great while, a tactless person may have no better sense than to +ask her abruptly for whom she is in mourning! Such people would not +hesitate to walk over the graves in a cemetery! And fortunately, such +encounters are few. + +Since many people, however, dislike long mourning veils and all crepe +generally, it is absolutely correct to omit both if preferred, and to wear +an untrimmed coat and hat of plainest black with or without a veil. + + +=A WORD OF ECONOMY= + +In the first days of stress, people sometimes give away every colored +article they possess and not until later are they aware of the effort +necessary, to say nothing of the expense, of getting an entire new +wardrobe. Therefore it is well to remember: + +Dresses and suits can be dyed without ripping. Any number of fabrics--all +woolens, soft silks, canton crepe, georgette and chiffon, dye perfectly. +Buttonholes have sometimes to be re-worked, snaps or hooks and eyes +changed to black, a bit of trimming taken off or covered with dull braid, +silk or crepe, and the clothes look every bit as well as though newly +ordered. + +Straw hats can be painted with an easily applied stain sold in every drug +and department store for the purpose. If you cannot trim hats yourself, a +milliner can easily imitate, or, if necessary, simplify the general +outline of the trimming as it was, and a seamstress can easily cover dyed +trimmings on dresses with crepe or dull silk. Also tan shoes--nearly all +footwear made of leather--can be dyed black and made to look like new by +any first class shoemaker. + + +=MOURNING MATERIALS= + +Lustreless silks, such as crepe de chine, georgette, chiffon, grosgrain, +peau de soie, dull finish charmeuse and taffeta, and all plain woolen +materials, are suitable for deepest mourning. Uncut velvet is as deep +mourning as crepe, but cut velvet is not mourning at all! Nor is satin or +lace. The only lace permissible is a plain or hemstitched net known as +"footing." + +Fancy weaves in stockings are not mourning, nor is bright jet or silver. A +very perplexing decree is that clothes entirely of white are deepest +mourning but the addition of a black belt or hat or gloves produces second +mourning. + +Patent leather and satin shoes are not mourning. + +People in second mourning wear all combinations of black and white as well +as clothes of gray and mauve. Many of the laws for materials seem +arbitrary, and people interpret them with greater freedom than they used +to, but never under any circumstances can one who is not entirely in +colors wear satin embroidered in silver or trimmed with jet and lace! With +the exception of wearing a small string of pearls and a single ring, +especially if it is an engagement ring, jewelry with deepest mourning is +never in good taste. + + +=WHEN A VEIL IS NOT WORN= + +Nor should a woman ever wear a crepe veil to the theater or restaurant, or +any public place of amusement. On the other hand, people left long to +themselves and their own thoughts grow easily morbid, and the opera or +concert or an interesting play may exert a beneficial relaxation. Gay +restaurants with thumping strident musical accompaniment or entertainments +of the cabaret variety, need scarcely be commented upon. But to go to a +matinee with a close friend or relative is becoming more and more +usual--and the picture theaters where one may sit in the obscurity and be +diverted by the story on the silver screen which, requiring no mental +effort, often diverts a sad mind for an hour or so, is an undeniable +blessing. An observer would have to be much at a loss for material who +could find anything to criticise in seeing a family together under such +circumstances. + +One generally leaves off a long veil, however, for such an occasion and +drives bareheaded, if it be evening, or substitutes a short black face +veil over one's hat on entering and leaving a building in the daytime. + + +=MOURNING FOR COUNTRY WEAR= + +Except for church, crepe veils and clothes heavily trimmed with crepe are +not appropriate in the country--ever! Mourning clothes for the summer +consist of plain black serge or tweed, silk or cotton material, all black +with white organdy collar and cuffs, and a veil-less hat with a brim. Or +one may dress entirely in dull materials of white. + + +=A WIDOW'S MOURNING= + +A widow used never to wear any but woolen materials, made as plain as +possible, with deep-hemmed turn-back cuffs and collar of white organdy. On +the street she wore a small crepe bonnet with a little cap-border of white +crepe or organdy and a long veil of crepe or nun's veiling to the bottom +edge of her skirt, over her face as well as down her back. At the end of +three months the front veil was put back from over her face, but the long +veil was worn two years at least, and frequently for life. These details +are identical with those prescribed to-day excepting that she may wear +lustreless silks as well as wool, the duration of mourning may be shorter, +and she need never wear her veil over her face except at the funeral +unless she chooses. + +A widow of mature years who follows old-fashioned conventions wears deep +mourning with crepe veil two years, black the third year and second +mourning the fourth. But shorter periods of mourning are becoming more and +more the custom and many consider three or even two years conventional. + + +=THE VERY YOUNG WIDOW= + +The young widow should wear deep crepe for a year and then lighter +mourning for six months and second mourning for six months longer. There +is nothing more utterly captivating than a sweet young face under a +widow's veil, and it is not to be wondered at that her own loneliness and +need of sympathy, combined with all that is appealing to sympathy in a +man, results in the healing of her heart. She should, however, never +remain in mourning for her first husband after she has decided she can be +consoled by a second. + +There is no reason why a woman (or a man) should not find such +consolation, but she should keep the intruding attraction away from her +thoughts until the year of respect is up, after which she is free to put +on colors and make happier plans. + + +=MOURNING WORN BY A MOTHER= + +A mother who has lost a grown child wears the same mourning as that +prescribed for a widow excepting the white cap ruche. Some mothers wear +mourning for their children always, others do not believe in being long in +black for a spirit that was young, and, for babies or very young children, +wear colorless clothes of white or gray or mauve. + + +=A DAUGHTER OR SISTER= + +A daughter or sister wears a long veil over her face at the funeral. The +length of the veil may be to her waist or to the hem of her skirt, and it +is worn for from three months to a year, according to her age and +feelings. An older woman wears deep black for her parents, sisters and +brothers for a year, and then lightens her mourning during the second +year. A young girl, if she is out in society or in college, may wear a +long veil for her parents or her betrothed, if she wants to, or she wears +a thin net veil edged with crepe and the corners falling a short way down +her back--or none at all. + +Very young girls of from fourteen to eighteen wear black for three months +and then six months of black and white. They never wear veils of any sort, +nor are their clothes trimmed in crepe. Children from eight to fourteen +wear black and white and gray for six months for a parent, brother, sister +or grandparent. Young children are rarely put into mourning, though their +clothes are often selected to avoid vivid color. They usually wear white +with no black except a hair ribbon for the girls and a necktie for the +boys. Very little children in black are too pitiful. + + +=EXTREME FASHION INAPPROPRIATE= + +Fancy clothes in mourning are always offenses against good taste, because +as the word implies, a person is in _mourning_. To have the impression +of "fashion" dominant is contrary to the purpose of somber dress; it is a +costume for the spirit, a covering for the visible body of one whose soul +seeks the background. Nothing can be in worse taste than crepe which is +gathered and ruched and puffed and pleated and made into waterfalls, and +imitation ostrich feathers as a garnishing for a hat. The more absolutely +plain, the more appropriate and dignified is the mourning dress. A "long +veil" is a shade pulled down--a protection--it should never be a flaunting +arrangement to arrest the amazed attention of the passerby. + +The necessity for dignity can not be overemphasized. + + +=BAD TASTE IN MOURNING= + +Mourning observances are all matters of fixed form, and any deviation from +precise convention is interpreted by the world at large as signifying want +of proper feeling. + +How often has one heard said of a young woman who was perhaps merely +ignorant of the effect of her inappropriate clothes or unconventional +behavior: "Look at her! And her dear father scarcely cold in his grave!" +Or "Little she seems to have cared for her mother--and such a lovely one +she had, too." Such remarks are as thoughtless as are the actions of the +daughter, but they point to an undeniable condition. Better far not wear +mourning at all, saying you do not believe in it, than allow your unseemly +conduct to indicate indifference to the memory of a really beloved parent; +better that a young widow should go out in scarlet and yellow on the day +after her husband's funeral than wear weeds which attract attention on +account of their flaunting bad taste and flippancy. One may not, one must +not, one _can not_ wear the very last cry of exaggerated fashion in crepe, +nor may one be boisterous or flippant or sloppy in manner, without giving +the impression to all beholders that one's spirit is posturing, tripping, +or dancing on the grave of sacred memory. + +This may seem exaggerated, but if you examine the expressions, you will +find that they are essentially true. + +Draw the picture for yourself: A slim figure, if you like, held in the +posture of the caterpillar slouch, a long length of stocking so thin as to +give the effect of shaded skin above high-heeled slippers with sparkling +buckles of bright jet, a short skirt, a scrappy, thin, low-necked, +short-sleeved blouse through which white underclothing shows various +edgings of lace and ribbons, and on top of this, a painted face under a +long crepe veil! Yet the wearer of this costume may in nothing but +appearance resemble the unmentionable class of women she suggests; as a +matter of fact she is very likely a perfectly decent young person and +really sad at heart, and her clothes and "make up" not different from +countless others who pass unnoticed because their colored clothing +suggests no mockery of solemnity. + + +=MOURNING WEAR FOR MEN= + +The necessity of business and affairs which has made withdrawal into +seclusion impossible, has also made it customary for the majority of men +to go into mourning by the simple expedient of putting a black band on +their hat or on the left sleeve of their usual clothes and wearing only +white instead of colored linen. + +A man never under any circumstances wears crepe. The band on his hat is of +very fine cloth and varies in width according to the degree of mourning +from two and a half inches to within half an inch of the top of a high +hat. On other hats the width is fixed at about two and a half or three +inches. The sleeve band, from three and a half to four and a half inches +in width, is of dull broadcloth on overcoats or winter clothing, and of +serge on summer clothes. The sleeve band of mourning is sensible for many +reasons, the first being that of economy. Men's clothes do not come +successfully from the encounter with dye vats, nor lend themselves to +"alterations," and an entire new wardrobe is an unwarranted burden to +most. + +Except for the one black suit bought for the funeral and kept for Sunday +church, or other special occasion, only wealthy men or widowers go to the +very considerable expense of getting a new wardrobe. Widowers--especially +if they are elderly--always go into black (which includes very dark gray +mixtures) with a deep black band on the hat, and of course, black ties and +socks and shoes and gloves. + + +=CONVENTIONS OF MOURNING FOR MEN= + +Although the etiquette is less exacting, the standards of social +observance are much the same for a man as for a woman. A widower should +not be seen at any general entertainment, such as a dance, or in a box at +the opera, for a year; a son for six months; a brother for three--at +least! The length of time a father stays in mourning for a child is more a +matter of his own inclination. + + +=MOURNING LIVERY= + +Coachmen and chauffeurs wear black liveries in town. In the country they +wear gray or even their ordinary whipcord with a black band on the left +sleeve. + +The house footman is always put into a black livery with dull buttons and +a black and white striped waistcoat. Maids are not put into mourning with +the exception of a lady's maid or nurse who, through many years of +service, has "become one of the family," and who personally desires to +wear mourning as though for a relative of her own. + + +=ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF SYMPATHY= + +In the case of a very prominent person where messages of condolence, many +of them impersonal, mount into the thousands, the sending of engraved +cards to strangers is proper, such as: + + Mr. W. Ide Bonds + wishes to gratefully acknowledge + your kind expression of sympathy + +or + + Senator and Mrs. Michigan + wish to express their appreciation of + + [HW: Miss Millicent Gildings] + + sympathy in their recent bereavement + +Under no circumstances should such cards be sent to intimate friends, or +to those who have sent flowers or written personal letters. + +When some one with real sympathy in his heart has taken the trouble to +select and send flowers, or has gone to the house and offered what service +he might, or has in a spirit of genuine regard, written a personal letter, +the receipt of words composed by a stationer and dispatched by a +professional secretary is exactly as though his outstretched hand had been +pushed aside. + +A family in mourning is in retirement from all social activities. There is +no excuse on the score of their "having no time." Also no one expects a +long letter, nor does any one look for an early reply. A personal word on +a visiting card is all any one asks for. The envelope may be addressed by +some one else. + +It takes but a moment to write "Thank you," or "Thank you for all +sympathy," or "Thank you for your kind offers and sympathy." Or, on a +sheet of letter paper: + + "Thank you, dear Mrs. Smith, for your beautiful flowers and your + kind sympathy." + +Or: + + "Your flowers were so beautiful! Thank you for them and for your + loving message." + +Or: + + "Thank you for your sweet letter. I know you meant it and I + appreciate it." + +Many, many such notes can be written in a day. If the list is overlong, or +the one who received the flowers and messages is in reality so prostrated +that she (or he) is unable to perform the task of writing, then some +member of her immediate family can write for her: + + "Mother (or father) is too ill to write and asks me to thank you + for your beautiful flowers and kind message." + +Most people find a sad comfort as well as pain, in the reading and +replying to letters and cards, but they should not sit at it too long; it +is apt to increase rather than assuage their grief. Therefore, no one +expects more than a word--but that word should be _seemingly personal_. + + +=OBLIGATIONS OF PRESENCE AT FUNERALS= + +Upon reading the death notice of a mere acquaintance you may leave your +card at the house, if you feel so inclined, or you may merely send your +card. + +Upon the death of an intimate acquaintance or friend you should go at once +to the house, write, "With sympathy" on your card and leave it at the +door. Or you should write a letter to the family; in either case, you send +flowers addressed to the nearest relative. On the card accompanying the +flowers, you write, "With sympathy," "With deepest sympathy," or "With +heartfelt sympathy," or "With love and sympathy." If there is a notice in +the papers "requesting no flowers be sent," you send them only if you are +a very intimate friend. + +Or if you prefer, send a few flowers with a note, immediately after the +funeral, to the member of the family who is particularly your friend. + +If the notice says "funeral private" you do not go unless you have +received a message from the family that you are expected, or unless you +are such an intimate friend that you know you are expected without being +asked. Where a general notice is published in the paper, it is proper and +fitting that you should show sympathy by going to the funeral, even though +you had little more than a visiting acquaintance with the family. You +should _not_ leave cards nor go to a funeral of a person with whom you +have not in any way been associated or to whose house you have never been +asked. + +But it is heartless and delinquent if you do not go to the funeral of one +with whom you were associated in business or other interests, or to whose +house you were often invited, or where you are a friend of the immediate +members of the family. + +You should wear black clothes if you have them, or if not, the darkest, +the least conspicuous you possess. Enter the church as quietly as +possible, and as there are no ushers at a funeral, seat yourself where you +approximately belong. Only a very intimate friend should take a position +far up on the center aisle. If you are merely an acquaintance you should +sit inconspicuously in the rear somewhere, unless the funeral is very +small and the church big, in which case you may sit on the end seat of the +center aisle toward the back. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE COUNTRY HOUSE AND ITS HOSPITALITY + + +The difference between the great house with twenty to fifty guest rooms, +all numbered like the rooms in a hotel, and the house of ordinary good +size with from four to six guest rooms, or the farmhouse or small cottage +which has but one "best" spare chamber, with perhaps a "man's room" on the +ground floor, is much the same as the difference between the elaborate +wedding and the simplest--one merely of degree and not of kind. + +To be sure, in the great house, week-end guests often include those who +are little more than acquaintances of the host and hostess, whereas the +visitor occupying the only "spare" room is practically always an intimate +friend. Excepting, therefore, that people who have few visitors never ask +any one on their general list, and that those who fill an enormous house +time and time again necessarily do, the etiquette, manners, guest room +appointments and the people who occupy them, are precisely the same. +Popular opinion to the contrary, a man's social position is by no means +proportionate to the size of his house, and even though he lives in a +bungalow, he may have every bit as high a position in the world of fashion +as his rich neighbor in his palace--often much better! + +We all of us know a Mr. Newgold who would give many of the treasures in +his marble palace for a single invitation to Mrs. Oldname's comparatively +little house, and half of all he possesses for the latter's knowledge, +appearance, manner, instincts and position--none of which he himself is +likely ever to acquire, though his children may! But in our description of +great or medium or small houses, we are considering those only whose +owners belong equally to best society and where, though luxuries vary from +the greatest to the least, house appointments are in essentials alike. + +This is a rather noteworthy fact: all people of good position talk alike, +behave alike and live alike. Ill-mannered servants, incorrect liveries or +service, sloppily dished food, carelessness in any of the details that to +well-bred people constitute the decencies of living, are no more tolerated +in the smallest cottage than in the palace. But since the biggest houses +are those which naturally attract most attention, suppose we begin our +detailed description with them. + + +=HOUSE PARTY OF MANY GUESTS= + +Perhaps there are ten or perhaps there are forty guests, but if there were +only two or three, and the house a little instead of a big one, the +details would be precisely the same. + +A week-end means from Friday afternoon or from Saturday lunch to Monday +morning. The usual time chosen for a house party is over a holiday, +particularly where the holiday falls on a Friday or Monday, so that the +men can take a Saturday off, and stay from Friday to Tuesday, or Thursday +to Monday. + +On whichever day the party begins, everyone arrives in the neighborhood of +five o'clock, or a day later at lunch time. Many come in their own cars, +the others are met at the station--sometimes by the host or a son, or, if +it is to be a young party, by a daughter. The hostess herself rarely, if +ever, goes to the station, not because of indifference or discourtesy but +because other guests coming by motor might find the house empty. + +It is very rude for a hostess to be out when her guests arrive. Even some +one who comes so often as to be entirely at home, is apt to feel +dispirited upon being shown into an empty house. Sometimes a guest's +arrival unwelcomed can not be avoided; if, for instance, a man invited for +tennis week or a football or baseball game, arrives before the game is +over but too late to join the others at the sport. + +When younger people come to visit the daughters, it is not necessary that +their mother stay at home, since the daughters take their mother's place. +Nor is it necessary that she receive the men friends of her son, unless +the latter for some unavoidable reason, is absent. + +No hostess must ever fail to send a car to the station or boat landing for +every one who is expected. If she has not conveyances enough of her own, +she must order public ones and have the fares charged to herself. + + +=GREETING OF THE HOST= + +The host always goes out into the front hall and shakes hands with every +one who arrives. He asks the guests if they want to be shown to their +rooms, and, if not, sees that the gentlemen who come without valets give +their keys to the butler or footman, and that the ladies without maids of +their own give theirs to the maid who is on duty for the purpose. + +Should any of them feel dusty or otherwise "untidy" they naturally ask if +they may be shown to their rooms so that they can make themselves +presentable. They should not, however, linger longer than necessary, as +their hostess may become uneasy at their delay. Ladies do not--in +fashionable houses--make their first appearance without a hat. Gentlemen, +needless to say, leave theirs in the hall when they come in. + +Travel in the present day, however, whether in parlor car or closed +limousines, or even in open cars on macadam roads, obviates the necessity +for an immediate removing of "travel stains," so that instead of seeking +their rooms, the newcomers usually go directly into the library or out on +the veranda or wherever the hostess is to be found behind the inevitable +tea tray. + + +=GREETING OF THE HOSTESS= + +As soon as her guests appear in the doorway, the hostess at once rises, +goes forward smiling, shakes hands and tells them how glad she is that +they have safely come, or how glad she is to see them, and leads the way +to the tea-table. This is one of the occasions when everyone is always +introduced. Good manners also demand that the places nearest the hostess +be vacated by those occupying them, and that the newly arrived receive +attention from the hostess, who sees that they are supplied with tea, +sandwiches, cakes and whatever the tea-table affords. + +After tea, people either sit around and talk, or, more likely nowadays, +they play bridge. About an hour before dinner the hostess asks how long +every one needs to dress, and tells them the time. If any need a shorter +time than she must allow for herself, she makes sure that they know the +location of their rooms, and goes to dress. + + +=A ROOM FOR EVERY GUEST= + +It is almost unnecessary to say that in no well-appointed house is a +guest, except under three circumstances, put in a room with any one else. +The three exceptions are: + + 1. A man and wife, if the hostess is sure beyond a doubt that + they occupy similar quarters when at home. + + 2. Two young girls who are friends and have volunteered, because + the house is crowded, to room together in a room with two beds. + + 3. On an occasion such as a wedding, a ball, or an + intercollegiate athletic event, young people don't mind for one + night (that is spent for the greater part "up") how many are + doubled; and house room is limited merely to cot space, sofas, + and even the billiard table. + +But she would be a very clumsy hostess, who, for a week-end, filled her +house like a sardine box to the discomfort and resentment of every one. + +In the well-appointed house, every guest room has a bath adjoining for +itself alone, or shared with a connecting room and used only by a man and +wife, two women or two men. A bathroom should never (if avoidable) be +shared by a woman and a man. A suitable accommodation for a man and wife +is a double room with bath and a single room next. + + +=THE GUEST ROOM= + +The perfect guest room is not necessarily a vast chamber decorated in an +historically correct period. Its perfection is the result of nothing more +difficult to attain than painstaking attention to detail, and its +possession is within the reach of every woman who has the means to invite +people to her house in the first place. The ideal guest room is never +found except in the house of the ideal hostess, and it is by no means +"idle talk" to suggest that every hostess be obliged to spend twenty-four +hours every now and then in each room that is set apart for visitors. If +she does not do this actually, she should do so in imagination. She should +occasionally go into the guest bathroom and draw the water in every +fixture, to see there is no stoppage and that the hot water faucets are +not seemingly jokes of the plumber. If a man is to occupy the bathroom, +she must see that the hook for a razor strop is not missing, and that +there is a mirror by which he can see to shave both at night and by +daylight. Even though she can see to powder her nose, it would be safer to +make her husband bathe and shave both a morning and an evening in each +bathroom and then listen carefully to what he says about it! + +Even though she has a perfect housemaid, it is not unwise occasionally to +make sure herself that every detail has been attended to; that in every +bathroom there are plenty of bath towels, face towels, a freshly laundered +wash rag, bath mat, a new cake of unscented bath soap in the bathtub soap +rack, and a new cake of scented soap on the washstand. + +It is not expected, but it is often very nice to find violet water, bath +salts, listerine, talcum powder, almond or other hand or sunburn lotion, +in decorated bottles on the washstand shelf; but to cover the +dressing-table in the bedroom with brushes and an array of toilet articles +is more of a nuisance than a comfort. A good clothes brush and whiskbroom +are usually very acceptable, as strangely enough, guests almost invariably +forget them. + +A comforting adjunct to a bathroom that is given to a woman is a hot water +bottle with a woolen cover, hanging on the back of the door. Even if +the water does not run sufficiently hot, a guest seldom hesitates to ring +for that, whereas no one ever likes to ask for a hot water bag--no matter +how much she might long for it. A small bottle of Pyro is also convenient +for one who brings a curling lamp. + +[Illustration: "THE IDEAL GUEST ROOM IS NEVER FOUND EXCEPT IN THE HOUSE OF +THE IDEAL HOSTESS; AND IT IS BY NO MEANS IDLE TALK TO SUGGEST THAT EVERY +HOSTESS BE OBLIGED TO SPEND TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EVERY NOW AND THEN IN EACH +ROOM SET APART FOR VISITORS." [Page 414.]] + +In the bedroom the hostess should make sure (by sleeping in it at least +once) that the bed is comfortable, that the sheets are long enough to tuck +in, that there are enough pillows for one who sleeps with head high. There +must also be plenty of covers. Besides the blankets there should be a +wool-filled or an eiderdown quilt, in coloring to go with the room. + +There should be a night light at the head of the bed. Not just a +decorative glow-worm effect, but a light that is really good to lie in bed +and read by. And always there should be books; chosen more to divert than +to engross. The sort of selection appropriate for a guest room might best +comprise two or three books of the moment, a light novel, a book of +essays, another of short stories, and a few of the latest magazines. +Spare-room books ought to be especially chosen for the expected guest. +Even though one can not choose accurately for the taste of another, one +can at least guess whether the visitor is likely to prefer transcendental +philosophy or detective stories, and supply either accordingly. + +There should be a candle and a box of matches--even though there is +electric light it has been known to go out! And some people like to burn a +candle all night. There must also be matches and ash receivers on the desk +and a scrap-basket beside it. + +In hot weather, every guest should have a palm leaf fan, and in August, +even though there are screens, a fly killer. + +In big houses with a swimming pool, bath-robes are supplied and often +bathing suits. Otherwise dressing-gowns are not part of any guest room +equipment. + +A comfortable sofa is very important (if the room is big enough) with a +sofa pillow or two, and with a lightweight quilt or afghan across the end +of it. + +The hostess should do her own hair in each room to see if the +dressing-table is placed where there is a good light over it, both by +electric and by daylight. A very simple expedient in a room where massive +furniture and low windows make the daylight dressing-table difficult, is +the European custom of putting an ordinary small table directly in the +window and standing a good sized mirror on it. Nothing makes a more +perfect arrangement for a woman. + +And the pincushion! It is more than necessary to see that the pins are +usable and not rust to the head. There should be black ones and white +ones, long and short; also safety pins in several sizes. Three or four +threaded needles of white thread, black, gray and tan silk are an addition +that has proved many times welcome. She must also examine the writing desk +to be sure that the ink is not a cracked patch of black dust at the bottom +of the well, and the pens solid rust and the writing paper textures and +sizes at odds with the envelopes. There should be a fresh blotter and a +few stamps. Also thoughtful hostesses put a card in some convenient place, +giving the post office schedule and saying where the mail bag can be +found. And a calendar, and a clock that _goes_! is there anything more +typical of the average spare room than the clock that is at a standstill? + +There must be plenty of clothes hangers in the closets. For women a few +hat stands, and for men trouser hangers and the coat hangers that have a +bar across the shoulder piece. + +It is unnecessary to add that every bureau drawer should be looked into to +see that nothing belonging to the family is filling the space which should +belong to the guest, and that the white paper lining the bottom is new. +Curtains and sofa pillows must, of course, be freshly laundered; the +furniture, floor, walls and ceiling unmarred and in perfect order. + +When bells are being installed in new houses they should be on cords and +hung at the side of the bed. Light switches should be placed at the side +of the door going into the room and bathroom. It is scarcely practical to +change the wiring in old houses; but it can at least be seen that the +bells work. + +People who like strong perfumes often mistakenly think they are giving +pleasure in filling all the bedroom drawers with pads heavily scented. +Instead of feeling pleasure, some people are made almost sick! But all +people (hay-fever patients excepted) love flowers, and vases of them +beautify rooms as nothing else can. Even a shabby little room, if +dustlessly clean and filled with flowers, loses all effect of shabbiness +and is "inviting" instead. + +In a hunting country, there should be a bootjack and boothooks in the +closet. + +Guest rooms should have shutters and dark shades for those who like to +keep the morning sun out. The rooms should also, if possible, be away from +the kitchen end of the house and the nursery. + +A shortcoming in many houses is the lack of a newspaper, and the +thoughtful hostess who has the morning paper sent up with each breakfast +tray, or has one put at each place on the breakfast table, deserves a +halo. + +At night a glass and a thermos pitcher of water should be placed by the +bed. In a few very specially appointed houses, a small glass-covered tray +of food is also put on the bed table, fruit or milk and sandwiches, or +whatever is marked on the guest card. + + +=THE GUEST CARD= + +A clever device was invented by Mrs. Gilding whose palatially appointed +house is run with the most painstaking attention to every one's comfort. +On the dressing-table in each spare room at Golden Hall is a card pad with +a pencil attached to it. But if the guest card is used, a specimen is +given below. + +Needless to say the cards are used only in huge houses that, because of +their size, are necessarily run more like a clubhouse than as a "home." + +In every house, the questions below are asked by the hostess, though the +guests may not readily perceive the fact. At bedtime she always asks: +"Would you like to come down to breakfast, or will you have it in your +room?" If the guest says, in her room, she is then asked what she would +like to eat. She is also asked whether she cares for milk or fruit or +other light refreshment at bedtime, and if there is a special book she +would like to take up to her room. + +The guest card mentioned above is as follows: + +=PLEASE FILL THIS OUT BEFORE GOING DOWN TO DINNER:= + +_What time do you want to be awakened? ....................... +Or, will you ring? .......................................... +Will you breakfast up-stairs? ................................ +Or down? ...................................................._ + + +=UNDERSCORE YOUR ORDER:= + +_Coffee, tea, chocolate, milk, +Oatmeal, hominy, shredded wheat, +Eggs, how cooked? +Rolls, muffins, toast, +Orange, pear, grapes, melon._ + + +=AT BEDTIME WILL YOU TAKE= + +_Hot or cold milk, cocoa, orangeade, +Sandwiches, meat, lettuce, jam, +Cake, crackers, +Oranges, apples, pears, grapes._ + +Besides this list, there is a catalogue of the library with a card, +clipped to the cover, saying: + +"Following books for room No. X." Then four or six blank lines and a place +for the guest's signature. + + +=AT THE DINNER HOUR= + +Every one goes down to dinner as promptly as possible and the procedure is +exactly that of all dinners. If it is a big party, the gentlemen offer +their arms to the ladies the host or hostess has designated. At the end of +the evening, it is the custom that the hostess suggest going up-stairs, +rather than the guests who ordinarily depart after dinner. But etiquette +is not very strictly followed in this, and a reasonable time after dinner, +if any one is especially tired he or she quite frankly says: "I wonder if +you would mind very much if I went to bed?" The hostess always answers: +"Why, no, certainly not! I hope you will find everything in your room! If +not, will you ring?" + +It is not customary for the hostess to go up-stairs with a guest, so long +as others remain in her drawing-room. If there is only one lady, or a +young girl, the hostess accompanies her to her room, and asks if +everything has been thought of for her comfort. + + +=HOW GUESTS ARE ASKED AND RECEIVED= + +Many older ladies adhere to former practise and always write personal +notes of invitation. All others write or telegraph to people at a +distance, and send telephone messages to those nearby. + +When a house is to be filled with friends of daughters or sons of the +house, the young people in the habit of coming to the house, or young men, +whether making a first visit or not, do not need any invitation further +than one given them verbally by a daughter, or even a son. But a married +couple, or a young girl invited for the first time, should have the verbal +invitation of daughter or son seconded by a note or at least a telephone +message sent by the mother herself. + +Every one is always asked for a specified time. Even a near relative comes +definitely for a week, or a month, or whatever period is selected. This is +because other plans have to be made by the owners of the house, such as +inviting another group of guests, or preparing to go away themselves. + + +=WHO ARE ASKED ON HOUSE PARTIES= + +Excepting when strangers bring influential letters of introduction, or +when a relative or very intimate friend recently married is invited with +her new husband or his bride, only very large and general house parties +include any one who is not an intimate friend. + +At least seventy per cent of American house parties are young people, +either single or not long married, and, in any event, all those asked to +any one party--unless the hostess is a failure (or a genius)--belong to +the same social group. Perhaps a more broad-minded attitude prevails +among young people in other parts of the country, but wilfully +narrow-minded Miss Young New York is very chary of accepting an invitation +until she finds out who among her particular friends are also invited. If +Mrs. Stranger asks her for a week-end, no matter how much she may like +Mrs. Stranger personally, she at once telephones two or three of her own +group. If some of them are going, she "accepts with pleasure," but if not, +the chances are she "regrets." If, on the other hand, she is asked by the +Gildings, she accepts at once. Not merely because Golden Hall is the +ultimate in luxury, but because Mrs. Gilding has a gift for entertaining, +including her selection of people, amounting to genius. On the other hand, +Miss Young New York would accept with equal alacrity the invitation of the +Jack Littlehouses, where there is no luxury at all. Here in fact, a guest +is quite as likely as not to be pressed into service as auxiliary nurse, +gardener or chauffeur. But the personality of the host and hostess is such +that there is scarcely a day in the week when the motors of the most +popular of the younger set are not parked at the Littlehouse door. + + +=PEOPLE WE LOVE TO STAY WITH= + +We enjoy staying with certain people usually for one of two reasons. +First, because they have wonderful, luxurious houses, filled with amusing +people; and visiting them is a period crammed with continuous and +delightful experience, even though such a visit has little that suggests +any personal intercourse or friendship with one's hostess. The other +reason we love to visit a certain house is, on the contrary, entirely +personal to the host or hostess. We love the house because we love its +owner. Nowhere do we feel so much at home, and though it may have none of +the imposing magnificence of the great house, it is often far more +charming. + +Five flunkeys can not do more towards a guest's comfort than to take his +hat and stick and to show him the way to the drawing-room. A very smart +young New Yorker who is also something of a wag, says that when going to +a very magnificent house, he always tries to wear sufficient articles so +that he shall have one to bestow upon each footman. Some one saw him, upon +entering a palace that is a counterpart of the Worldlys,' quite solemnly +hand his hat to the first footman, his stick to the second, his coat to +the third, his muffler to the fourth, his gloves to the fifth, and his +name to the sixth, as he entered the drawing-room. Needless to say he did +this as a matter of pure amusement to himself. Of course six men servants, +or more, do add to the impressiveness of a house that is a palace and are +a fitting part of the picture. And yet a neat maid servant at the door can +divest a guest of his hat and coat, and lead the way to the sitting-room, +with equal facility. + +Having several times mentioned Golden Hall, the palatial country house of +the Gildings, suppose we join the guests and see what the last word in +luxury and lavish hospitality is. + +Golden Hall is not an imaginary place, except in name. It exists within a +hundred miles of New York. The house is a palace, the grounds are a park. +There is not only a long wing of magnificent guest rooms in the house, +occupied by young girls or important older people, but there is also a +guest annex, a separate building designed and run like the most luxurious +country club. The second floor has nothing but bedrooms, with bath for +each. The third floor has bachelor rooms, and rooms for visiting valets. +Visiting maids are put in a separate third floor wing. On the ground floor +there is a small breakfast room; a large living-room filled with books, +magazines, a billiard and pool table; beyond the living-room is a fully +equipped gymnasium; and beyond that a huge, white marble, glass-walled +natatorium. The swimming pool is fifty feet by one hundred; on three sides +is just a narrow shelf-like walkway, but the fourth is wide and is +furnished as a room with lounging chairs upholstered in white oilcloth. +Opening out of this are perfectly equipped Turkish and Russian baths in +charge of the best Swedish masseur and masseuse procurable. + +In the same building are two squash courts, a racquet court, a court +tennis court, and a bowling alley. But the feature of the guest building +is a glass-roofed and enclosed riding ring--not big enough for games of +polo, but big enough for practise in winter,--built along one entire side +of it. + +The stables are full of polo ponies and hunters, the garage full of cars, +the boathouse has every sort of boat--sailboats, naphtha launches, a motor +boat and even a shell. Every amusement is open-heartedly offered, in fact, +especially devised for the guests. + +At the main house there is a ballroom with a stage at one end. An +orchestra plays every night. New moving pictures are shown and vaudeville +talent is imported from New York. This is the extreme of luxury in +entertaining. As Mrs. Toplofty said at the end of a bewilderingly lavish +party: "How are any of us ever going to amuse any one after _this_? I feel +like doing my guest rooms up in moth balls." + +No one, however, has discovered that invitations to Mrs. Toplofty's are +any less welcome. Besides, excitement-loving youth and exercise-devotees +were never favored guests at the Hudson Manor anyway. + + +=THE SMALL HOUSE OF PERFECTION= + +It matters not in the slightest whether the guest room's carpet is +Aubusson or rag, whether the furniture is antique, or modern, so long as +it is pleasing of its kind. On the other hand, because a house is little +is no reason that it can not be as perfect in every detail--perhaps more +so--as the palace of the multiest millionaire! + +The attributes of the perfect house can not be better represented than by +Brook Meadows Farm, the all-the-year home of the Oldnames. Nor can +anything better illustrate its perfection than an incident that actually +took place there. + +A great friend of the Oldnames, but not a man who went at all into +society, or considered whether people had position or not, was invited +with his new wife--a woman from another State and of much wealth and +discernment--to stay over a week-end at Brook Meadows. Never having met +the Oldnames, she asked something about their house and life in order to +decide what type of clothes to pack. + +"Oh, it's just a little farmhouse. Oldname wears a dinner coat, of course; +his wife wears--I don't know what--but I have never seen her dressed up a +bit!" + +"Evidently plain people," thought his wife. And aloud: "I wonder what +evening dress I have that is high enough. I can put in the black lace day +dress; perhaps I had better put in my cerise satin----" + +"The cerise?" asked her husband, "Is that the red you had on the other +night? It is much too handsome, much! I tell you, Mrs. Oldname never wears +a dress that you could notice. She always looks like a lady, but she isn't +a dressy sort of person at all." + +So the bride packed her plainest (that is her cheapest) clothes, but at +the last, she put in the "cerise." + +When she and her husband arrived at the railroad station, _that_ at least +was primitive enough, and Mr. Oldname in much worn tweeds might have come +from a castle or a cabin; country clothes are no evidence. But her +practised eye noticed the perfect cut of the chauffeur's coat and that the +car, though of an inexpensive make, was one of the prettiest on the +market, and beautifully appointed. + +"At least they have good taste in motors and accessories," thought she, +and was glad she had brought her best evening dress. + +They drove up to a low white shingled house, at the end of an +old-fashioned brick walk bordered with flowers. The visitor noticed that +the flowers were all of one color, all in perfect bloom. She knew no +inexperienced gardener produced that apparently simple approach to a door +that has been chosen as frontispiece in more than one book on Colonial +architecture. The door was opened by a maid in a silver gray taffeta +dress, with organdie collar, cuffs and apron, white stockings and silver +buckles on black slippers, and the guest saw a quaint hall and vista of +rooms that at first sight might easily be thought "simple" by an inexpert +appraiser; but Mrs. Oldname, who came forward to greet her guests, was +the antithesis of everything the bride's husband had led her to believe. + +To describe Mrs. Oldname as simple is about as apt as to call a pearl +"simple" because it doesn't dazzle; nor was there an article in the +apparently simple living-room that would be refused were it offered to a +museum. + +The tea-table was Chinese Chippendale and set with old Spode on a +lacquered tray over a mosaic-embroidered linen tea-cloth. The soda +biscuits and cakes were light as froth, the tea an especial blend imported +by a prominent connoisseur and given every Christmas to his friends. There +were three other guests besides the bride and groom: a United States +Senator, and a diplomat and his wife who were on their way from a post in +Europe to one in South America. Instead of "bridge" there was conversation +on international topics until it was time to dress for dinner. + +When the bride went to her room (which adjoined that of her husband) she +found her bath drawn, her clothes laid out, and the dressing-table lights +lighted. + +That night the bride wore her cerise dress to one of the smartest dinners +she ever went down to, and when they went up-stairs and she at last saw +her husband alone, she took him to task. "Why in the name of goodness +didn't you tell me the truth about these people?" + +"Oh," said he abashed, "I told you it was a little house--it was you who +insisted on bringing that red dress. I told you it was too handsome!" + +"Handsome!" she cried in tears, "I don't own anything half good enough to +compare with the least article in this house. That 'simple' little woman +as you call her would, I think, almost make a queen seem provincial! And +as for her clothes, they are priceless--just as everything is in this +little gem of a house. Why, the window curtains are as fine as the best +clothes in my trousseau." + +The two houses contrasted above are two extremes, but each a luxury. The +Oldnames' expenditure, though in no way comparable with the Worldlys' or +the Gildings,' is far beyond any purse that can be called moderate. + +The really moderate purse inevitably precludes a woman from playing an +important role as hostess, for not even the greatest magnetism and charm +can make up to spoiled guests for lack of essential comfort. The only +exceptions are a bungalow at the seashore or a camp in the woods, where a +confirmed luxury-lover is desperately uncomfortable for the first +twenty-four hours, but invariably gets used to the lack of comfort almost +as soon as he gets dependent upon it; and plunging into a lake for bath, +or washing in a little tin basin, sleeping on pine boughs without any +sheets at all, eating tinned foods and flapjacks on tin plates with tin +utensils, he seems to lack nothing when the air is like champagne and the +company first choice. + + +=GUEST ROOM SERVICE= + +If a visitor brings no maid of her own, the personal maid of the hostess +(if she has one--otherwise the housemaid) always unpacks the bags or +trunks, lays toilet articles out on the dressing-table and in the +bathroom, puts folded things in the drawers and hangs dresses on hangers +in the closet. If when she unpacks she sees that something of importance +has been forgotten, she tells her mistress, or, in the case of a servant +who has been long employed, she knows what selection to make herself, and +supplies the guest without asking with such articles as comb and brush or +clothes brush, or bathing suit and bath-robe. + +The valet of the host performs the same service for men. In small +establishments where there is no lady's maid or valet, the housemaid is +always taught to unpack guests' belongings and to press and hook up +ladies' dresses, and gentlemen's clothes are sent to a tailor to be +pressed after each wearing. + +In big houses, breakfast trays for women guests are usually carried to the +bedroom floor by the butler (some butlers delegate this service to a +footman) and are handed to the lady's maid who takes the tray into the +room. In small houses they are carried up by the waitress. + +Trays for men visitors are rare, but when ordered are carried up and into +the room by the valet, or butler. If there are no men servants the +waitress has to carry up the tray. + +When a guest rings for breakfast, the housemaid or the valet goes into the +room, opens the blinds, and in cold weather lights the fire, if there is +an open one in the room. Asking whether a hot, cool or cold bath is +preferred, he goes into the bathroom, spreads a bath mat on the floor, a +big bath towel over a chair, with the help of a thermometer draws the +bath, and sometimes lays out the visitor's clothes. As few people care for +more than one bath a day and many people prefer their bath before dinner +instead of before breakfast, this office is often performed at dinner +dressing time instead of in the morning. + + +=TIPS= + +The "tip-roll" in a big house seems to us rather appalling, but compared +with the amounts given in a big English house, ours are mere pittances. +Pleasant to think that _something_ is less expensive in our country than +in Europe! + +Fortunately in this country, when you dine in a friend's house you do not +"tip" the butler, nor do you tip a footman or parlor-maid who takes your +card to the mistress of the house, nor when you leave a country house do +you have to give more than five dollars to any one whatsoever. A lady for +a week-end stay gives two or three dollars to the lady's maid, if she went +without her own, and one or two dollars to every one who waited on her. +Intimate friends in a small house send tips to all the servants--perhaps +only a dollar apiece, but no one is forgotten. In a very big house this is +never done and only those are tipped who have served you. If you had your +maid with you, you always give her a tip (about two dollars) to give the +cook (often the second one) who prepared her meals and one dollar for the +kitchen maid who set her table. + +A gentleman scarcely ever "remembers" any of the women servants (to their +chagrin) except a waitress, and tips only the butler and the valet, and +sometimes the chauffeur. The least he can offer any of the men-servants is +two dollars and the most ever is five. No woman gets as much as that, +for such short service. + +In a few houses the tipping system is abolished, and in every guest room, +in a conspicuous place on the dressing-table or over the bath tub where +you are sure to read it, is a sign, saying: + +"Please do not offer tips to my servants. Their contract is with this +special understanding, and proper arrangements have been made to meet it; +you will not only create 'a situation,' but cause the immediate dismissal +of any one who may be persuaded by you to break this rule of the house." + +The notice is signed by the host. The "arrangement" referred to is one +whereby every guest means a bonus added to their wages of so much per +person per day for all employees. This system is much preferred by +servants for two reasons. First, self-respecting ones dislike the +demeaning effect of a tip (an occasional few won't take them). Secondly, +they can absolutely count that so many visitors will bring them precisely +such an amount. + +[Illustration: "IN SMALL HOUSES BREAKFAST TRAYS FOR WOMEN GUESTS ARE +CARRIED UP BY THE WAITRESS." [Page 426]] + + +=BREAKFAST DOWNSTAIRS OR UP= + +Breakfast customs are as varied in this country as the topography of the +land! Communities of people who have lived or traveled much abroad, have +nearly all adopted the Continental breakfast habit of a tray in their +room, especially on Sunday mornings. In other communities it is the custom +to go down to the dining-room for a heavy American (or English) meal. In +communities where the latter is the custom and where people are used to +assembling at a set hour, it is simple enough to provide a breakfast +typical of the section of the country; corn bread and kidney stew and +hominy in the South; doughnuts and codfish balls "way down East"; kippered +herring, liver and bacon and griddle cakes elsewhere. But downstairs +breakfast as a continuous performance is, from a housekeeper's point of +view, a trial to say the least. + +However, in big houses, where men refuse to eat in their rooms and equally +refuse to get up until they feel like it, a dining-room breakfast is +managed as follows: + + +=CONTINUOUS BREAKFAST DOWNSTAIRS= + +The table is set with a place for all who said they were "coming down." At +one end is a coffee urn kept hot over a spirit lamp, milk is kept hot +under a "tea cosy" or in a double pitcher, made like a double boiler. On +the sideboard or on the table are two or three "hot water" dishes (with or +without spirit lamps underneath). In one is a cereal, in the other "hash" +or "creamed beef," sausage, or codfish cakes, or whatever the housekeeper +thinks of, that can stand for hours and still be edible! Fruit is on the +table and bread and butter and marmalade, and the cook is supposed to make +fresh tea and eggs and toast for each guest as he appears. + + +=PREPARING BREAKFAST TRAY= + +The advantage of having one's guests choose breakfast up-stairs, is that +unless there is a separate breakfast room, a long delayed breakfast +prevents the dining-room from being put in order or the lunch table set. +Trays, on the other hand, stand "all set" in the pantry and interfere much +less with the dining-room work. The trays are either of the plain white +pantry variety or regular breakfast ones with folding legs. On each is put +a tray cloth. It may be plain linen hemstitched or scalloped, or it may be +much embroidered and have mosaic or filet lace. + +Every bedroom has a set of breakfast china to match it. But it is far +better to send a complete set of blue china to a rose-colored room than a +rose set that has pieces missing. Nothing looks worse than odd crockery. +It is like unmatched paper and envelopes, or odd shoes, or a woman's skirt +and waist that do not meet in the back. + +There is nothing unusual in a tray set, every china and department store +carries them, but only in "open" stock patterns can one buy extra dishes +or replace broken ones; a fact it is well to remember. There is a tall +coffee pot, hot milk pitcher, a cream pitcher and sugar bowl, a cup and +saucer, two plates, an egg cup and a covered dish. A cereal is usually +put in the covered dish, toast in a napkin on a plate, or eggs and bacon +in place of cereal. This with fruit is the most elaborate "tray" breakfast +ever provided. Most people who breakfast "in bed" take only coffee or tea, +an egg, toast and possibly fruit. + + +=THE COURTEOUS HOST= + +Of those elaborate ceremonials between host and guest familiar to all +readers of the Bible and all travelers in the East, only a few faint +traces remain in our country and generation. It is still unforgivable to +eat a man's bread and remain his enemy. It is unforgivable to criticize +your host, or in his presence to criticize his friends. It is unforgivable +to be rude to any one under your own roof or under the roof of a friend. +If you must quarrel with your enemy, seek public or neutral ground, since +quarrels and hospitality must never be mingled. + +The Spaniard says to his guest: "All I have is yours." It is supposed to +be merely a pretty speech--but in a measure it is true of every host's +attitude toward his house guest. If you take some one under your roof, he +becomes part of, and sharer in, your life and possessions. Your horse, +your fireside, your armchair, your servants, your time, your customs, all +are his; your food is his food, your roof his shelter. You give him the +best "spare" room, you set before him the best refreshments you can offer, +and your "best" china and glass. His bed is made up with your best +"company" linen and blankets. You receive your guest with a smile, no +matter how inconvenient or troublesome or straining to your resources his +visit may be, and on no account do you let him suspect any of this. + + +=KEEPING ONE'S GUESTS OCCUPIED= + +In popular houses where visitors like to go again and again, there is +always a happy combination of some attention on the part of the host and +hostess, and the perfect freedom of the guests to occupy their time as +they choose. + +The host and the men staying in the house arrange among themselves to rest +or play games or fish or ride or shoot clay pigeons or swim, etc. The +hostess, unless at the seashore where people go bathing in the morning, +generally leaves her guests to their own devices until lunch time, though +they are always offered whatever diversions the place or neighborhood +afford. They are told there is bathing, fishing, golf; and if they want to +do any of these things, it is arranged for them. But unless something +special, such as driving to a picnic or clambake, has been planned, or +there is a tennis tournament or golf match of importance, the hostess +makes her first appearance just before luncheon. + +This is the same as any informal family meal. If there are thirty guests +it makes no difference. Sometimes there are place cards--especially if +other people have been invited in--sometimes people find places for +themselves. + +After luncheon something is usually arranged; perhaps those who play golf +go out for their game, and others who do not play go to the country club +at the hour the players are supposed to be coming in, so that they can all +have tea together. Those who like motoring perhaps go for a drive, or to a +neighbor's house for bridge, or neighbors come in for tea. There is always +bridge, sometimes there is dancing. In very big houses musicians are often +brought in after dinner, and dancing and bridge alternate till bedtime. + +A houseful of young people very easily look after their own amusement. As +said before, a big house is run very much like a country club, and guests +are supposed to look after themselves. + +Making an especial effort to entertain a guest who is to stay for a week +or longer has gone out of custom in the fashionable world, except for an +important personage. A visit from the President of the United States for +instance, would necessitate the most punctiliously formal etiquette, no +matter how close a friend of the family he may always have been. For such +a visitor a hostess would either arrange a series of entertainments or +none, according to her visitor's inclination. + + +=A GUEST CAN LOOK AFTER HIS OWN COMFORT= + +The most trying thing to people of very set habits is an unusual breakfast +hour. When you have the unfortunate habit of waking with the dawn, and the +household you are visiting has the custom of sleeping on Sunday morning, +the long wait for your coffee can quite actually upset your whole day. On +the other hand, to be aroused at seven on the only day when you do not +have to hurry to business, in order to yawn through an early breakfast, +and then sit around and kill time, is quite as trying. The guest with the +"early" habit can in a measure prevent discomfort. He can carry in a small +case (locked if necessary) a very small solidified alcohol outfit and +either a small package of tea or powdered coffee, sugar, powdered milk, +and a few crackers. He can then start his day all by himself in the +barnyard hours without disturbing any one, and in comfort to himself. Few +people care enough to "fuss," but if they do, this equipment of an +habitual visitor with incurably early waking hours is given as a +suggestion. + +Or perhaps the entire guest situation may be put in one sentence. If you +are an inflexible person, very set in your ways, don't visit! At least +don't visit without carefully looking the situation over from every angle +to be sure that the habits of the house you are going to are in accord +with your own. + +A solitary guest is naturally much more dependent on his host (or her +hostess), but on the other hand, he or she is practically always a very +intimate friend who merely adapts himself or herself like a chameleon to +the customs and hours and diversions of the household. + + +=DONT'S FOR HOSTESS= + +When a guest asks to be called half an hour before breakfast, don't have +him called an hour and a half before because it takes you that long to +dress, nor allow him a scant ten minutes because the shorter time is +seemingly sufficient. Too often the summons on the door wakes him out of +sound sleep; he tumbles exhausted out of bed, into clothes, and down +stairs, to wait perhaps an hour for breakfast. + +If a guest prefers to sit on the veranda and read, don't interrupt him +every half page to ask if he really does not want to do something else. +If, on the other hand, a guest wants to exercise, don't do everything in +your power to obstruct his starting off by saying that it will surely +rain, or that it is too hot, or that you think it is senseless to spend +days that should be a rest to him in utterly exhausting himself. + +Don't, when you know that a young man cares little for feminine society, +fine-tooth-comb the neighborhood for the dullest or silliest young woman +to be found. + +Don't, on the other hand, when you have an especially attractive young +woman staying with you, ask a stolid middle-aged couple and an +octogenarian professor for dinner, because the charm and beauty of the +former is sure to appeal to the latter. + +Don't, because you personally happen to like a certain young girl who is +utterly old-fashioned in outlook and type from ultra modern others who are +staying with you, try to "bring them together." Never try to make any two +people like each other. If they do, they do; if they don't, they don't, +and that is all there is to it; but it is of vital importance to your own +success as hostess to find out which is the case and collect or separate +them accordingly. + + +=THE CASUAL HOSTESS= + +The most casual hostess in the world is the fashionable leader in Newport, +she who should by the rules of good society be the most punctilious, since +no place in America, or Europe, is more conspicuously representative of +luxury and fashion. Nowhere are there more "guests" or half so many +hostesses, and yet hospitality as it is understood everywhere else, is +practically unknown. No one ever goes to stay in a Newport house excepting +"on his own" as it were. It is not an exaggerated story, but quite true, +that in many houses of ultra fashion a guest on arriving is told at which +meals he is expected to appear, that is at dinners or luncheons given by +his hostess. At all others he is free to go out or stay in by himself. No +effort is assumed for his amusement, or responsibility for his +well-being. It is small wonder that only those who have plenty of friends +care to go there--or in fact, are ever invited! Those who like to go to +visit the most perfectly appointed, but utterly impersonal house, find no +other visiting to compare with its unhampering delightfulness. The hostess +simply says on his (or her) arrival: + +"Oh, howdo Freddie (or Constance)! They've put you in the Chinese room, I +think. Ring for tea when you want it. Struthers telephoned he'd be over +around five. Mrs. Toplofty asked you to dinner to-night and I accepted for +you--hope that was all right. If not, you'll have to telephone and get out +of it yourself. I want you to dinner to-morrow night and for lunch on +Sunday. Sorry to leave you, but I'm late for bridge now. Good-by." And she +is off. + +The Newport hostess is, of course, an extreme type that is seldom met away +from that one small watering place in Rhode Island. + + +=THE ENERGETIC HOSTESS= + +The energetic hostess is the antithesis of the one above, and far more +universally known. She is one who fusses and plans continually, who thinks +her guests are not having a good time unless she rushes them, Cook's +tourist fashion, from this engagement to that, and crowds with activity +and diversion--never mind _what_ so long as it is something to see or +do--every moment of their stay. + +She walks them through the garden to show them all the nooks and vistas. +She dilates upon the flowers that bloomed here last month and are going to +bloom next. She insists upon their climbing over rocks to a summerhouse to +see the view; she insists on taking them in another direction to see an +old mill; and, again, every one is trouped to the cupola of the house to +see another view. She insists on every one's playing croquet before lunch, +to which she gathers in a curiously mixed collection of neighbors. +Immediately after lunch every one is driven to a country club to see some +duffer golf--for some reason there is never "time" in all the prepared +pleasures for any of her guests to play golf themselves. After twenty +minutes at the golf club, they are all taken to a church fair. The guests +are all introduced to the ladies at the booth and those who were foolish +enough to bring their purses with them from now on carry around an odd +assortment of fancy work. There is another entertainment that her guests +must not miss! A flower pageant of the darlingest children fourteen miles +away! Everyone is dashed to that. On some one's front lawn, daisies and +lilies and roses trip and skip--it is all sweetly pretty but the sun is +hot and the guests have been on the go for a great many hours. Soon, +however, their hostess leaves. "Home at last!" think they. Not at all. +They are going somewhere for tea and French recitations. But why go on? +The portrait is fairly complete, though this account covers only a few +hours and there is still all the evening and to-morrow to be filled in +just as liberally. + + +=THE ANXIOUS HOSTESS= + +The anxious hostess does not insist on your ceaseless activity, but she is +no less persistent in filling your time. She is always asking you what you +would like to do next. If you say you are quite content as you are, she +nevertheless continues to shower suggestions. Shall she play the +phonograph to you? Would you like her to telephone to a friend who sings +too wonderfully? Would you like to look at a portfolio of pictures? If you +are a moment silent, she is sure you are bored, and wonders what she can +do to divert you! + + +=THE PERFECT HOSTESS= + +The ideal hostess must have so many perfections of sense and character +that were she described in full, no one seemingly but a combination of +seer and angel could ever hope to qualify. + +She must first of all consider the inclinations of her guests, she must +not only make them as comfortable as the arrangements and limits of her +establishment permit, but she must subordinate her own inclinations +utterly. At the same time, she must not fuss and flutter and get agitated +and seemingly make efforts in their behalf. Nothing makes a guest more +uncomfortable than to feel his host or hostess is being put to a great +deal of bother or effort on his account. + +A perfect hostess like a perfect housekeeper has seemingly nothing +whatever to do with household arrangements which apparently run in oiled +grooves and of their own accord. + +Certain rules are easy to observe once they are brought to attention. A +hostess should never speak of annoyances of any kind--no matter what +happens! Unless she is actually unable to stand up, she should not mention +physical ills any more than mental ones. She has invited people to her +house, and as long as they are under her roof, hospitality demands that +their sojourn shall be made as pleasant as lies in her power. + +If the cook leaves, then a picnic must be made of the situation as though +a picnic were the most delightful thing that could happen. Should a guest +be taken ill, she must assure him that he is not giving the slightest +trouble; at the same time nothing that can be done for his comfort must be +overlooked. Should she herself or some one in her family become suddenly +ill, she should make as light of it as possible to her guests, even though +she withdraw from them. In that event she must ask a relative or intimate +friend to come in and take her place. Nor should the deputy hostess dwell +to the guests on the illness, or whatever it is that has deprived them of +their hostess. + + +=THE GUEST NO ONE INVITES AGAIN= + +The guest no one invites a second time is the one who runs a car to its +detriment, and a horse to a lather; who leaves a borrowed tennis racquet +out in the rain; who "dog ears" the books, leaves a cigarette on the edge +of a table and burns a trench in its edge, who uses towels for boot rags, +who stands a wet glass on polished wood, who tracks muddy shoes into the +house, and leaves his room looking as though it had been through a +cyclone. Nor are men the only offenders. Young women have been known to +commit every one of these offenses and the additional one of bringing a +pet dog that was not house trained. + +Besides these actually destructive shortcomings, there are evidences of +bad upbringing in many modern youths whose lack of consideration is +scarcely less annoying. Those who are late for every meal; cheeky others +who invite friends of their own to meals without the manners or the +decency to ask their hostess' permission; who help themselves to a car and +go off and don't come back for meals at all; and who write no letters +afterwards, nor even take the trouble to go up and "speak" to a former +hostess when they see her again. + +On the other hand, a young person who is considerate is a delight +immeasurable--such a delight as only a hostess of much experience can +perhaps appreciate. A young girl who tells where she is going, first +asking if it is all right, and who finds her hostess as soon as she is in +the house at night to report that she is back, is one who very surely will +be asked again and often. + +A young man is, of course, much freer, but a similar deference to the +plans of his hostess, and to the hours and customs of the house, will +result in repeated invitations for him also. + +The lack of these things is not only bad form but want of common civility +and decency, and reflects not only on the girls and boys themselves but on +their parents who failed to bring them up properly. + + +=THE CONSIDERATE GUEST= + +Courtesy demands that you, when you are a guest, shall show neither +annoyance nor disappointment--no matter what happens. Before you can hope +to become even a passable guest, let alone a perfect one, you must learn +as it were not to notice if hot soup is poured down your back. If you +neither understand nor care for dogs or children, and both insist on +climbing all over you, you must seemingly like it; just as you must be +amiable and polite to your fellow guests, even though they be of all the +people on earth the most detestable to you. You must with the very best +dissimulation at your command, appear to find the food delicious though +they offer you all of the viands that are especially distasteful to your +palate, or antagonistic to your digestion. You must disguise your hatred +of red ants and scrambled food, if everyone else is bent on a picnic. You +must pretend that six is a perfect dinner hour though you never dine +before eight, or, on the contrary, you must wait until eight-thirty or +nine with stoical fortitude, though your dinner hour is six and by seven +your chest seems securely pinned to your spine. + +If you go for a drive, and it pours, and there is no top to the carriage +or car, and you are soaked to the skin and chilled to the marrow so that +your teeth chatter, your lips must smile and you must appear to enjoy the +refreshing coolness. + +If you go to stay in a small house in the country, and they give you a bed +full of lumps, in a room of mosquitoes and flies, in a chamber over that +of a crying baby, under the eaves with a temperature of over a hundred, +you _can_ the next morning walk to the village, and send yourself a +telegram and leave! But though you feel starved, exhausted, wilted, and +are mosquito bitten until you resemble a well-developed case of chickenpox +or measles, by not so much as a facial muscle must you let the family know +that your comfort lacked anything that your happiest imagination could +picture--nor must you confide in any one afterwards (having broken bread +in the house) how desperately wretched you were. + +If you know anyone who is always in demand, not only for dinners, but for +trips on private cars and yachts, and long visits in country houses, you +may be very sure of one thing: the popular person is first of all +unselfish or else extremely gifted; very often both. + +The perfect guest not only tries to wear becoming clothes but tries to put +on an equally becoming mental attitude. No one is ever asked out very much +who is in the habit of telling people all the misfortunes and ailments she +has experienced or witnessed, though the perfect guest listens with +apparent sympathy to every one else's. Another attribute of the perfect +guest is never to keep people waiting. She is always ready for +anything--or nothing. If a plan is made to picnic, she likes picnics above +everything and proves her liking by enthusiastically making the sandwiches +or the salad dressing or whatever she thinks she makes best. If, on the +other hand, no one seems to want to do anything, the perfect guest has +always a book she is absorbed in, or a piece of sewing she is engrossed +with, or else beyond everything she would love to sit in an easy chair and +do nothing. + +She never for one moment thinks of herself, but of the other people she is +thrown with. She is a person of sympathy always, and instantaneous +discernment. She is good tempered no matter what happens, and makes the +most of everything as it comes. At games she is a good loser, and a quiet +winner. She has a pleasant word, an amusing story, and agreeable comment +for most occasions, but she is neither gushing nor fulsome. She has merely +acquired a habit, born of many years of arduous practise, of turning +everything that looks like a dark cloud as quickly as possible for the +glimmer of a silver lining. + +She is as sympathetic to children as to older people; she cuts out +wonderful paper dolls and soldier hats, always leisurely and easily as +though it cost neither time nor effort. She knows a hundred stories or +games, every baby and every dog goes to her on sight, not because she has +any especial talent, except that one she has cultivated, the talent of +interest in everyone and everything except herself. Few people know that +there is such a talent or that it can be cultivated. + +She has more than mere beauty; she has infinite charm, and she is so well +born that she is charming to everyone. Her manner to a duke who happens to +be staying in the house is not a bit more courteous than her manner to the +kitchen-maid whom she chances to meet in the kitchen gardens whither she +has gone with the children to see the new kittens; as though new kittens +were the apex of all delectability! + +She always calls the servants by name; always says "How do you do" when +she arrives, "Good morning" while there, and "Good-by" when she leaves. +And do they presume because of her "familiarity" when she remembers to ask +after the parlor-maid's mother and the butler's baby? They wait on her as +they wait on no one else who comes to the house--neither the Senator nor +the Governor, nor his Grace of Overthere! + +This ideal guest is an equally ideal hostess; the principle of both is the +same. A ready smile, a quick sympathy, a happy outlook, consideration for +others, tenderness toward everything that is young or helpless, and +forgetfulness of self, which is not far from the ideal of womankind. + + +=THE GUEST ON A PRIVATE CAR OR YACHT= + +The sole difference between being a guest at a country house and a guest +on a private car or a yacht, is that you put to a very severe test tour +adaptability as a traveler. You live in very close quarters with your host +and hostess and fellow guests, and must therefore be particularly on your +guard against being selfish or out of humor. If you are on shore and don't +feel well, you can stay home; but off on a cruise, if you are ill you have +to make the best of it, and a sea-sick person's "best" is very bad indeed! +Therefore let it be hoped you are a good sailor. If not, think very, very +carefully before you embark! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE HOUSE PARTY IN CAMP + + +"Roughing it" in the fashionable world (on the Atlantic coast) is rather +suggestive of the dairymaid playing of Marie Antoinette; the "rough" part +being mostly "picturesque effect" with little taste of actual discomfort. +Often, of course, the "roughing it" is real, especially west of the +Mississippi (and sometimes in the East too); so real that it has no place +in a book of etiquette at all. In the following picture of a fashionable +"camping party" it should perhaps be added, that not only the Worldlys but +most of the women really _think_ they are "roughing it." + +At the same time there is nothing that a genuine dependent upon luxury +resents more than to be told he is dependent. It is he who has but newly +learned the comforts of living who protests his inability to endure +discomfort. + +The very same people therefore who went a short time before to Great +Estates, women who arrived with their maids and luggage containing +personal equipment of amazing perfection and unlimited quantity (to say +nothing of jewels worth a king's ransom), and men who usually travel with +their own man-servants and every variety of raiment and paraphernalia, on +being invited to "rough it" with the Kindharts at Mountain Summit Camp, +are the very ones who most promptly and enthusiastically telegraph their +delighted acceptance. At a certain party a few years ago, the only person +who declined was a young woman of so little "position" that she was quite +offended that Mrs. Kindhart should suppose her able to endure discomfort +such as her invitation implied. + +This year the Worldlys, the Normans, the Lovejoys, the "Bobo" Gildings, +the Littlehouses, Constance Style, Jim Smartlington and his bride, Clubwin +Doe and young Struthers make up the party. No one declined, not even the +Worldlys, though there is a fly in the amber of their perfect +satisfaction. Mrs. Kindhart wrote "not to bring a maid." Mrs. Worldly is +very much disturbed, because she cannot do her hair herself. Mr. Worldly +is even more perturbed at the thought of going without his valet. He has +never in the twenty years since he left college been twenty-four hours +away from Ernest. He knows perfectly well that Ernest is not expected. But +he means to take him--he will say nothing about it; he can surely find a +place for Ernest to stay somewhere. + +The other men all look upon a holiday away from formality (which includes +valeting) as a relief, like the opening of a window in a stuffy room, and +none of the women except Mrs. Worldly would take her maid if she could. + + +=THE CLOTHES THEY TAKE= + +The men all rummage in attics and trunk-rooms for those disreputable +looking articles of wearing apparel dear to all sportsmen; oil soaked +boots, water soaked and sun bleached woolen, corduroy, leather or canvas +garments and hats, each looking too shabby from their wives' (or valet's) +point of view to be offered to a tramp. + +Every evening is spent in cleaning guns, rummaging for unprepossessing +treasures of shooting and fishing equipment. The women also give thought +to their wardrobes--consisting chiefly in a process of elimination. +Nothing perishable, nothing requiring a maid's help to get into, or to +take care of. Golf clothes are first choice, and any other old country +clothes, skirts and sweaters, and lots of plain shirt waists to go under +the sweaters. An old polo coat and a mackintosh is chosen by each. And for +evenings something "comfortable" and "easy to put on" in the way of a +house gown or ordinary summer "day dress." One or two decide to take tea +gowns in dark color and plainest variety. + +All the women who sew or knit take something to "work on" in unoccupied +moments, such as the hours of sitting silent in a canoe while husbands +fish. + +Finally the day arrives. Every one meets at the railroad station. +They are all as smart looking as can be, there is no sign of "rough" +clothes anywhere, though nothing in the least like a jewel case or parasol +is to be seen. At the end of somewhere between eight and eighteen hours, +they arrive at a shed which sits at the edge of the single track and is +labelled Dustville Junction, and hurrying down the narrow platform is +their host. Except that his face is clean shaven and his manners perfect, +he might be taken for a tramp. Three far from smart looking teams--two +buckboards and an express wagon--are standing near by. Kindhart welcomes +everyone with enthusiasm--except the now emerging Ernest. For once +Kindhart is nonplussed and he says to Worldly: "This isn't Newport, you +know--of course we can give him a bed somewhere, but this is really no +place for Ernest and there's nothing for him to do!" + +Worldly, for the moment at a loss, explains lamely: "I thought he might be +useful--if you could find some corner for him to-night, then we can +see--that's all right, isn't it?" + +Kindhart as host can't say anything further except to agree. Everyone is +bundled into the buckboards (except Ernest who goes on top of the luggage +in the express wagon), and a "corduroy" drive of six or eight miles +begins. + + +=WHAT THE CAMP IS LIKE= + +Summit Camp is a collection of wooden shacks like a group of packing cases +dumped in a clearing among the pine trees at the edge of a mountain lake. +Those who have never been there before feel some misgivings, those who +have been there before remember with surprise that they _had_ liked the +place! The men alone are filled with enthusiasm. The only person who is +thoroughly apprehensive of the immediate future is Ernest. + +In front of the largest of the shacks, Mrs. Kindhart, surrounded by dogs +and children, waves and hurries forward, beaming. Her enthusiasm is +contagious, the children look blooming. That the "hardship" is not +hurting them, is evident! And when the guests have seen the inside of the +camps most of them are actually as pleased as they look. The biggest +"shack" is a living-room, the one nearest is the dining camp, four or five +smaller ones are sleeping camps for guests and another is the Kindharts' +own. + +The "living" camp is nothing but a single room about thirty feet wide and +forty feet long, with an open raftered roof for ceiling. It has windows on +four sides and a big porch built on the southeast corner. There is an +enormous open fireplace, and a floor good enough to dance on. The woodwork +is of rough lumber and has a single coat of leaf-green paint. The shelves +between the uprights are filled with books. All the new novels and +magazines are spread out on a long table. The room is furnished with +Navajo blankets, wicker furniture, steamer chairs, and hammocks are hung +across two of the corners. Two long divan sofas on either side of the +fireplace are the only upholstered pieces of furniture in the whole camp, +except the mattresses on the beds. + +The guest camps are separate shacks, each one set back on a platform, +leaving a porch in front. Inside they vary in size; most have two, some +have four rooms, but each is merely one pointed-roofed space. The front +part has a fireplace and is furnished as a sitting-room, the rear half is +partitioned into two or more cubicles, like box-stalls, with partitions +about eight feet high and having regular doors. In each of the single +rooms, there is a bed, bureau, washstand, chair, and two shelves about six +or seven feet high, with a calico curtain nailed to the top one and +hanging to the floor, making a hat shelf and clothes closet. The few +"double" rooms are twice the size and have all furniture in duplicate. +There is also a matting or a rag rug on the floor, and that is all! + +Each cottage has a bathroom but the hot water supply seems complicated. A +sign says your guide will bring it to you when needed. Mrs. Worldly, +feeling vaguely uncomfortable and hungry, is firmly determined to go home +on the next morning train. Before she has had much time to reflect, Mrs. +Kindhart reports that lunch is nearly ready. Guides come with canisters of +hot water, and everyone goes to dress. Town clothes disappear, and woods +clothes emerge. This by no means makes a dowdy picture. Good sport clothes +never look so well or becoming as when long use has given them an +"accustomed set" characteristic of their wearer. The men put on their +oldest country clothes too. Not their fishing "treasures" to sit at table +with ladies! The treasured articles go on in the early dawn, and the +guides are the only humans (except themselves) supposed worthy to behold +them! + +Presently a gong is sounded. The Kindhart children run to the guest houses +to call out that "the gong means dinner is ready!" And "dinner" means +lunch. + + +=DINING-ROOM DETAILS= + +In a short while the very group of people who only ten days before were +being shown to their places in the Worldlys' own tapestry-hung marble +dining-room at Great Estates by a dozen footmen in satin knee breeches, +file into the "dining camp" and take their places at a long pine table, +painted turkey red, on ordinary wooden kitchen chairs, also red! The +floral decoration is of laurel leaves in vases made of preserve jars +covered with birch bark. Glass and china is of the cheapest. But there are +a long centerpiece of hemstitched crash and crash doilies, and there are +"real" napkins, and at each plate a birch bark napkin ring with a number +on it. Mrs. Worldly looks at her napkin ring as though it were an insect. +One or two of the others who have not been there before, look mildly +surprised. + +Mrs. Kindhart smiles, "I'm sorry, but I told you it was 'roughing it.' Any +one who prefers innumerable paper napkins to using a washed one twice, is +welcome. But one napkin a day apiece is camp rule!" Mrs. Worldly tries to +look amiable, all the rest succeed. + +The food is limited in variety but delicious. There are fresh trout from +the lake and venison steak; both well cooked in every way that can be +devised appear at every meal. All other supplies come in hampers from the +city. The head cook is the Kindharts' own, and so is the butler, with one +of the chauffeurs (when home) to help him wait on table. They wear +"liveries," evolved by Mrs. Kindhart, of gray flannel trousers, green +flannel blazers, very light gray flannel shirts, black ties, and +moccasins! + +The table service, since there are only two to wait on twenty including +the children, is necessarily somewhat "farmer style"; ice, tea, rolls, +butter, marmalade, cake, fruit, are all on the table, so that people may +help themselves. + + +=THE AMUSEMENTS OFFERED= + +After luncheon Kindhart points out a dozen guides who are waiting at the +boat-house to take anyone who wants to be paddled or to sail or to go out +into the woods. There is a small swimming pool which can be warmed +artificially. Those who like it cold swim in the lake. All the men +disappear in groups or singly with a guide. The women go with their +husbands, or two together, with a guide. Should any not want to go out, +she can take to one of the hammocks, or a divan in the living-room, and a +book. + +At first sight, this hospitality seems inadequate, but its discomfort is +one of outward appearance only. The food is abundant and delicious, +whether cooked in the house or by the guides in the woods. The beds are +comfortable; there are plenty of warm and good quality, though not white, +blankets. Sheets are flannel or cotton as preferred. Pillow cases are +linen, towels of the "bath" variety because washing can be done by +"natives" near by, but ironing is difficult. Let no one, however, think +that this is a "simple" (by that meaning either easy or inexpensive) form +of entertainment! Imagine the budget! A dozen guides, teams and drivers, +natives to wash and clean and to help the cook; food for two or three +dozen people sent hundreds of miles by express! + +It is true that the buildings are of the most primitive, and the +furnishings, too. The bureau drawers do stick, and there is only +"curtained" closet room, and mirrors are few and diminutive, and orders +for hot water have to be given ahead of time, but there is no discomfort, +except bathing in the cold! The huge fire, lighted early every morning by +one of the guides in each guest house, keeps the main part fairly warm but +the temperature of one of the bathrooms on a cold morning is scarcely +welcoming. + + +=CAMP MANNERS= + +People do not "dress" for dinner, that is, not in evening clothes. After +coming in from walking or shooting or fishing, if it is warm they swim in +the pool or have their guides bring them hot water for a bath. Women +change into house gowns of some sort. Men put on flannel trousers, soft +shirts, and flannel or serge sack coats. + +In the evening, if it is a beautiful night, every one sits on steamer +chairs wrapt in rugs around the big fire built out doors in front of a +sort of penthouse or windbreak. Or if it is stormy, they sit in front of a +fire, almost as big, in the living-room. Sometimes younger ones pop corn +or roast chestnuts, or perhaps make taffy. Perhaps some one tells a story, +or some one plays and everyone sings. Perhaps one who has "parlor tricks" +amuses the others--but as a rule those who have been all day in the open +are tired and drowsy and want nothing but to stretch out for a while in +front of the big fire and then turn in. + +The etiquette of this sort of a party is so apparently lacking that its +inclusion perhaps seems out of place. But it is meant merely as a +"picture" of a phase of fashionable life that is not much exploited, and +to show that well-bred people never deteriorate in manner. Their behavior +is precisely the same whether at Great Estates or in camp. A gentleman may +be in his shirt sleeves actually, but he never gets into shirt sleeves +mentally--he has no inclination to. + +To be sure, on the particular party described above, Mrs. Worldly wore a +squirrel fur cap in the evening as well as the daytime; she said it was +because it was so warm and comfortable. It was really because she could +not do her hair! + +Perhaps some one asks about Ernest? At the end of two days of aloof and +distasteful idleness, Ernest became quite a human being; invaluable as +baiter of worms for the children's fish-hooks, as extra butler, and did +not scorn even temporary experiments as kitchen-maid. In fact, he proved +the half-hearted recommendation that he "might be useful" so thoroughly +that the first person of all to be especially invited for next year and +future years, was--exactly--Ernest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +NOTES AND SHORTER LETTERS + + +In writing notes or letters, as in all other forms of social observance, +the highest achievement is in giving the appearance of simplicity, +naturalness and force. + +Those who use long periods of flowered prolixity and pretentious +phrases--who write in complicated form with meaningless flourishes, do not +make an impression of elegance and erudition upon their readers, but +flaunt instead unmistakable evidence of vainglory and ignorance. + +The letter you write, whether you realize it or not, is always a mirror +which reflects your appearance, taste and character. A "sloppy" letter +with the writing all pouring into one corner of the page, badly worded, +badly spelled, and with unmatched paper and envelope--even possibly a +blot--proclaims the sort of person who would have unkempt hair, unclean +linen and broken shoe laces; just as a neat, precise, evenly written note +portrays a person of like characteristics. Therefore, while it can not be +said with literal accuracy that one may read the future of a person by +study of his handwriting, it is true that if a young man wishes to choose +a wife in whose daily life he is sure always to find the unfinished task, +the untidy mind and the syncopated housekeeping, he may do it quite simply +by selecting her from her letters. + + +=HOW TO IMPROVE A LETTER'S APPEARANCE= + +Some people are fortunate in being able easily to make graceful letters, +to space their words evenly, and to put them on a page so that the picture +is pleasing; others are discouraged at the outset because their fingers +are clumsy, and their efforts crude; but no matter how badly formed each +individual letter may be, if the writing is consistent throughout, the +page as a whole looks fairly well. + +You can _make_ yourself write neatly and legibly. You can (with the help +of a dictionary if necessary) spell correctly; you can be sure that you +understand the meaning of every word you use. If it is hard for you to +write in a straight line, use the lined guide that comes with nearly all +stationery; if impossible to keep an even margin, draw a perpendicular +line at the left of the guide so that you can start each new line of +writing on it. You can also make a guide to slip under the envelope. Far +better to use a guide than to send envelopes and pages of writing that +slide up hill and down, in uncontrolled disorder. + +[Illustration: FACSIMILES, REDUCED IN SIZE, OF LETTER AND ENVELOPE GUIDES] + + +=CHOICE OF WRITING PAPER= + +Suitability should be considered in choosing note paper, as well as in +choosing a piece of furniture for a house. For a handwriting which is +habitually large, a larger sized paper should be chosen than for writing +which is small. The shape of paper should also depend somewhat upon the +spacing of the lines which is typical of the writer, and whether a wide or +narrow margin is used. Low, spread-out writing looks better on a square +sheet of paper; tall, pointed writing looks better on paper that is high +and narrow. Selection of paper whether rough or smooth is entirely a +matter of personal choice--so that the quality be good, and the shape and +color conservative. + +Paper should never be ruled, or highly scented, or odd in shape, or have +elaborate or striking ornamentation. Some people use smaller paper for +notes, or correspondence cards, cut to the size of the envelopes. Others +use the same size for all correspondence and leave a wider margin in +writing notes. + +The flap of the envelope should be plain and the point not unduly long. If +the flap is square instead of being pointed, it may be allowed greater +length without being eccentric. Colored linings to envelopes are at +present in fashion. Thin white paper, with monogram or address stamped in +gray to match gray tissue lining of the envelope is, for instance, in very +best taste. Young girls may be allowed quite gay envelope linings, but the +device on the paper must be minute, in proportion to the gaiety of the +color. + +[Illustrations: GOOD TASTE GOOD TASTE GOOD TASTE BAD TASTE BAD TASTE] + +Writing paper for a man should always be strictly conservative. Plain +white or gray or granite paper, large in size and stamped in the simplest +manner. The size should be 5-3/4 x 7-1/2 or 6 x 8 or 5-1/8 x 8-1/8 or +thereabouts. + +A paper suitable for the use of all the members of a family has the +address stamped in black or dark color, in plain letters at the top of the +first page. More often than not the telephone number is put in very small +letters under that of the address, a great convenience in the present day +of telephoning. For example: + + 350 PARK AVENUE + TELEPHONE 7572 PLAZA + + +=DEVICES FOR STAMPING= + +As there is no such thing as heraldry in America, the use of a coat of +arms is as much a foreign custom as the speaking of a foreign tongue; but +in certain communities where old families have used their crests +continuously since the days when they brought their device--and their +right to it--from Europe, the use of it is suitable and proper. The sight +of this or that crest on a carriage or automobile in New York or Boston +announces to all those who have lived their lives in either city that the +vehicle belongs to a member of this or that family. But for some one +without an inherited right to select a lion _rampant_ or a stag _couchant_ +because he thinks it looks stylish, is as though, for the same reason, he +changed his name from Muggins to Marmaduke, and quite properly subjects +him to ridicule. (Strictly speaking, a woman has the right to use a +"lozenge" only; since in heraldic days women did not bear arms, but no one +in this country follows heraldic rule to this extent.) + + +=THE PERSONAL DEVICE= + +It is occasionally the fancy of artists or young girls to adopt some +especial symbol associated with themselves. The "butterfly" of Whistler +for instance is as well-known as his name. A painter of marines has the +small outline of a ship stamped on his writing paper, and a New York +architect the capital of an Ionic column. A generation ago young women +used to fancy such an intriguing symbol as a mask, a sphinx, a question +mark, or their own names, if their names were such as could be pictured. +There can be no objection to one's appropriation of such an emblem if one +fancies it. But Lilly, Belle, Dolly and Kitten are Lillian, Isabel, +Dorothy and Katherine in these days, and appropriate hall-marks are not +easily found. + + +=COUNTRY HOUSE STATIONERY: FOR A BIG HOUSE= + +In selecting paper for a country house we go back to the subject of +suitability. A big house in important grounds should have very plain, very +dignified letter paper. It may be white or tinted blue or gray. The name +of the place should be engraved, in the center usually, at the top of the +first page. It may be placed left, or right, as preferred. Slanting across +the upper corners or in a list at the upper left side, may be put as many +addresses as necessary. Many persons use a whole row of small devices in +outline, the engine of a train and beside it Ardmoor, meaning that Ardmoor +is the railroad station. A telegraph pole, an envelope, a telephone +instrument--and beside each an address. These devices are suitable for all +places, whether they are great or tiny, that have different addresses for +railroad, post-office, telephone telegraph. + +[Illustration: (train) Stirlington, New York] + +[Illustration: (telegraph pole and envelopes) Ringwood, New Jersey] + +[Illustration: (telephone) Sloatsburg, Seven-three-two] + + +_For the Little House_ + +On the other hand, farmhouses and little places in the country may have +very bright-colored stamping, as well as gay-lined envelopes. Places with +easily illustrated names quite often have them pictured; the "Bird-cage," +for instance, may have a bright blue paper with a bird-cage in supposed +red lacquer; the "Bandbox," a fantastically decorated milliner's box on +oyster gray paper, the envelope lining of black and gray pin stripes, and +the "Doll's House" might use the outline of a doll's house in grass green +on green-bordered white paper, and white envelopes lined with grass green. +Each of these devices must be as small as the outline of a cherry pit and +the paper of the smallest size that comes. (Envelopes 3-1/2 x 5 inches or +paper 4 x 6 and envelopes the same size to hold paper without folding.) + +[Illustration: (three envelope corners with logos)] + +It is foolish perhaps to give the description of such papers, for their +fashion is but of the moment. A jeweler from Paris has been responsible +for their present vogue in New York, and his clientele is only among the +young and smart. Older and more conservative women (and, of course, all +men) keep to the plain fashion of yesterday, which will just as surely be +the fashion of to-morrow. + + +=MOURNING PAPER= + +Persons who are in mourning use black-edged visiting cards, letter paper +and envelopes. The depth of black corresponds with the depth of mourning +and the closeness of relation to the one who has gone, the width +decreasing as one's mourning lightens. The width of black to use is a +matter of personal taste and feeling. A very heavy border (from 3/8 to +7/16 of an inch) announces the deepest retirement. + + +=DATING A LETTER= + +Usually the date is put at the upper right hand of the first page of a +letter, or at the end, and to the left of the signature, of a note. It is +far less confusing for one's correspondent to read January 9, 1920, than +1-9-20. Theoretically, one should write out the date in full: the ninth of +January, Nineteen hundred and twenty-one. That, however, is the height of +pedantry, and an unswallowable mouthful at the top of any page not a +document. + +At the end of a note "Thursday" is sufficient unless the note is an +invitation for more than a week ahead, in which case write as in a letter, +"January 9" or "the ninth of January." The year is not necessary since it +can hardly be supposed to take a year for a letter's transportation. + + +=SEQUENCE OF PAGES= + +If a note is longer than one page, the third page is usually next, as this +leaves the fourth blank and prevents the writing from showing through the +envelope. With heavy or tissue-lined envelopes, the fourth is used as +often as the third. In letters one may write first, second, third, fourth, +in regular order; or first and fourth, then, opening the sheet and turning +it sideways, write across the two inside pages as one. Many prefer to +write on first, third, then sideways across second and fourth. In certain +cities--Boston, for instance--the last word on a page is repeated at the +top of the next. It is undoubtedly a good idea, but makes a stuttering +impression upon one not accustomed to it. + + +=FOLDING A NOTE= + +As to whether a letter is folded in such a way that the recipient shall +read the contents without having to turn the paper, is giving too much +importance to nothing. It is sufficient if the paper is folded _neatly_, +once, of course, for the envelope that is half the length of the paper, +and twice for the envelope that is a third. + + +=SEALING WAX= + +If you use sealing wax, let us hope you are an adept at making an even and +smoothly finished seal. Choose a plain-colored wax rather than one +speckled with metal. With the sort of paper described for country houses, +or for young people, or those living in studios or bungalows, gay sealing +wax may be quite alluring, especially if it can be persuaded to pour +smoothly like liquid, and not to look like a streaked and broken off slice +of dough. In days when envelopes were unknown, all letters had to be +sealed, hence when envelopes were made, the idea obtained that it was +improper to use both gum-arabic and wax. Strictly speaking this may be +true, but since all envelopes have mucilage, it would be unreasonable to +demand that those who like to use sealing wax have their envelopes made to +order. + + +=FORM OF ADDRESS= + +The most formal beginning of a social letter is "My dear Mrs. Smith." (The +fact that in England "Dear Mrs. Smith" is more formal does not greatly +concern us in America.) "Dear Mrs. Smith," "Dear Sarah," "Dear Sally," +"Sally dear," "Dearest Sally," "Darling Sally," are increasingly intimate. + +Business letters begin: + + Smith, Johnson & Co., + 20 Broadway, + New York. + + Dear Sirs: + +Or if more personal: + + John Smith & Co., + 20 Broadway, + New York. + + My Dear Mr. Smith: + + +=THE COMPLIMENTARY CLOSE= + +The close of a business letter should be "Yours truly," or "Yours very +truly." "Respectfully" is used only by a tradesman to a customer, an +employee to an employer, or by an inferior, never by a person of equal +position. No lady should ever sign a letter "respectfully," not even were +she writing to a queen. If an American lady should have occasion to write +to a queen, she should conclude her letter "I have the honor to remain, +Madam, your most obedient." (For address and close of letters to persons +of title, see table at the end of this chapter.) + + +=CLOSE OF PERSONAL NOTES AND LETTERS= + +It is too bad that the English language does not permit the charming and +graceful closing of all letters in the French manner, those little flowers +of compliment that leave such a pleasant fragrance after reading. But +ever since the Eighteenth Century the English-speaking have been busy +pruning away all ornament of expression; even the last remaining graces, +"kindest regards," "with kindest remembrances," are fast disappearing, +leaving us nothing but an abrupt "Yours truly," or "Sincerely yours." + + +_Closing a Formal Note_ + +The best ending to a formal social note is, "Sincerely," "Sincerely +yours," "Very sincerely," "Very sincerely yours," "Yours always +sincerely," or "Always sincerely yours." + +"I remain, dear madam," is no longer in use, but "Believe me" is still +correct when formality is to be expressed in the close of a note. + + Believe me + Very sincerely yours, + +or + + Believe me, my dear Mrs. Worldly, + Most sincerely yours, + +This last is an English form, but it is used by quite a number of +Americans--particularly those who have been much abroad. + + +_Appropriate for a Man_ + +"Faithfully" or "Faithfully yours" is a very good signature for a man in +writing to a woman, or in any uncommercial correspondence, such as a +letter to the President of the United States, a member of the Cabinet, an +Ambassador, a clergyman, etc. + + +_The Intimate Closing_ + +"Affectionately yours," "Always affectionately," "Affectionately," +"Devotedly," "Lovingly," "Your loving" are in increasing scale of +intimacy. + +"Lovingly" is much more intimate than "Affectionately" and so is +"Devotedly." + +"Sincerely" in formal notes and "Affectionately" in intimate notes are the +two adverbs most used in the present day, and between these two there is a +blank; in English we have no expression to fit sentiment more friendly +than the first nor one less intimate than the second. + + +_Not Good Form_ + +"Cordially" was coined no doubt to fill this need, but its +self-consciousness puts it in the category with "residence" and "retire," +and all the other offenses of pretentiousness, and in New York, at least, +it is not used by people of taste. + +"Warmly yours" is unspeakable. + +"Yours in haste" or "Hastily yours" is not bad form, but is rather +carelessly rude. + +"In a tearing hurry" is a termination dear to the boarding school girl; +but its truth does not make it any more attractive than the vision of that +same young girl rushing into a room with her hat and coat half on, to +swoop upon her mother with a peck of a kiss, and with a "--by, mamma!" +whirl out again! Turmoil and flurry may be characteristic of the manners +of to-day; both are far from the ideal of beautiful manners which should +be as assured, as smooth, as controlled as the running of a high-grade +automobile. Flea-like motions are no better suited to manners than to +motors. + + +_Other Endings_ + +"Gratefully" is used only when a benefit has been received, as to a lawyer +who has skilfully handled a case; to a surgeon who has saved a life dear +to you; to a friend who has been put to unusual trouble to do you a favor. + +In an ordinary letter of thanks, the signature is "Sincerely," +"Affectionately," "Devotedly"--as the case may be. + +The phrases that a man might devise to close a letter to his betrothed or +his wife are bound only by the limit of his imagination and do not belong +in this, or any, book. + + +=THE SIGNATURE= + +Abroad, the higher the rank, the shorter the name. A duke, for instance, +signs himself "Marlborough," nothing else, and a queen her first name +"Victoria." The social world in Europe, therefore, laughs at us for using +our whole names, or worse yet, inserting meaningless initials in our +signatures. Etiquette in accord with Europe also objects strenuously to +initials and demands that names be always engraved, and, if possible, +written in full, but only very correct people strictly observe this rule. + +In Europe all persons have so many names given them in baptism that they +are forced, naturally, to lay most of them aside, selecting one, or at +most two, for use. In America, the names bestowed at baptism become +inseparably part of each individual, so that if the name is overlong, a +string of initials is the inevitable result. + +Since, in America, it is not customary for a man to discard any of his +names, and John Hunter Titherington Smith is far too much of a pen-full +for the one who signs thousands of letters and documents, it is small +wonder that he chooses J.H.T. Smith, instead, or perhaps, at the end of +personal letters, John H.T. Smith. Why shouldn't he? It is, after all, his +own name to sign as he chooses, and in addressing him deference to his +choice should be shown. + +A married woman should always sign a letter to a stranger, a bank, +business firm, etc., with her baptismal name, and add, in parenthesis, her +married name. Thus: + + Very truly yours, + Sarah Robinson Smith. + (Mrs. J.H. Titherington Smith.) + +Never under any circumstances sign a letter "Mr.", "Mrs.", or "Miss" +(except a note written in the third person). If, in the example above, +Sarah Robinson Smith were "Miss" she would put "Miss" in parenthesis to +the left of her signature: + +(Miss) Sarah Robinson Smith. + + +=THE SUPERSCRIPTION= + +Formal invitations are always addressed to Mr. Stanley Smith; all other +personal letters may be addressed to Stanley Smith, Esq. The title of +Esquire formerly was used to denote the eldest son of a knight or members +of a younger branch of a noble house. Later all graduates of universities, +professional and literary men, and important landholders were given the +right to this title, which even to-day denotes a man of education--a +gentleman. John Smith, esquire, is John Smith, gentleman. Mr. John Smith +may be a gentleman; or may not be one. And yet, as noted above, all +engraved invitations are addressed "Mr." + +Never under any circumstances address a social letter or note to a married +woman, even if she is a widow, as Mrs. Mary Town. A widow is still Mrs. +James Town. If her son's wife should have the same name, she becomes Mrs. +James Town, Sr., or simply Mrs. Town. + +A divorced woman, if she was the innocent person, retains the right if she +chooses, to call herself Mrs. John Brown Smith, but usually she prefers to +take her own surname. Supposing her to have been Mary Simpson, she calls +herself Mrs. Simpson Smith. If a lady is the wife or widow of "the head of +a family" she may call herself Mrs. Smith, even on visiting cards and +invitations. + +The eldest daughter is Miss Smith; her younger sister, Miss Jane Smith. + +Invitations to children are addressed, Miss Katherine Smith and Master +Robert Smith. + +Do not write "The Messrs. Brown" in addressing a father and son. "The +Messrs. Brown" is correct only for unmarried brothers. + +Although one occasionally sees an envelope addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. +Jones," and "Miss Jones" written underneath the names of her parents, it +is better form to send a separate invitation addressed to Miss Jones +alone. A wedding invitation addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jones and family is +not in good taste. Even if the Jones children are young, the Misses Jones +should receive a separate envelope, and so should Master Jones. + + +=ONE LAST REMARK= + +Write the name and address on the envelope as precisely and as legibly as +you can. The post-office has enough to do in deciphering the letters of +the illiterate, without being asked to do unnecessary work for you! + + +=BUSINESS LETTERS= + +Business letters written by a private individual differ very little from +those sent out from a business house. A lady never says "Yours of the 6th +received and contents noted," or "Yours to hand," nor does she address the +firm as "Gentlemen," nor does she _ever_ sign herself "Respectfully." A +business letter should be as brief and explicit as possible. For example: + + Tuxedo Park + New York + May 17, 1922 + + I. Paint & Co., + 22 Branch St., + New York. + + Dear Sirs: + + Your estimate for painting my dining-room, library, south + bedroom, and dressing-room is satisfactory, and you may proceed + with the work as soon as possible. + + I find, on the other hand, that wainscoting the hall comes to + more than I had anticipated, and I have decided to leave it as it + is for the present. + + Very truly yours, + C.R. Town. + (Mrs. James Town) + + +=THE SOCIAL NOTE= + +There should be no more difficulty in writing a social note than in +writing a business letter; each has a specific message for its sole object +and the principle of construction is the same: + + * Date + Address (on business letter only) + + Salutation: + + The statement of whatever is the purpose of the note. + + Complimentary close, + Signature. + * Or date here + +The difference in form between a business and a social note is that the +full name and address of the person written to is never put in the latter, +better quality stationery is used, and the salutation is "My dear ----" or +"Dear ----" instead of "Dear Sir:" + +Example: + + 350 Park Avenue + + Dear Mrs. Robinson: + + I am enclosing the list I promised you--Luberge makes the most + beautiful things. Mower, the dressmaker, has for years made + clothes for me, and I think Revaud the best milliner in Paris. + Leonie is a "little milliner" who often has pretty blouses as + well as hats and is very reasonable. + + I do hope the addresses will be of some use to you, and that you + will have a delightful trip, + + Very sincerely, + Martha Kindhart. + + Thursday. + + +=THE NOTE OF APOLOGY= + +Examples: + + +=I= + + BROADLAWNS + + Dear Mrs. Town: + + I do deeply apologize for my seeming rudeness in having to send + the message about Monday night. + + When I accepted your invitation, I stupidly forgot entirely that + Monday was a holiday and that all of my own guests, naturally, + were not leaving until Tuesday morning, and Arthur and I could + not therefore go out by ourselves and leave them! + + We were too disappointed and hope that you know how sorry we were + not to be with you. + + Very sincerely, + Ethel Norman. + Tuesday morning. + + +=II= + + Dear Mrs. Neighbor: + + My gardener has just told me that our chickens got into your + flower beds, and did a great deal of damage. + + The chicken netting is being built higher at this moment and they + will not be able to damage anything again. I shall, of course, + send Patrick to put in shrubs to replace those broken, although + I know that ones newly planted cannot compensate for those you + have lost, and I can only ask you to accept my contrite + apologies. + + Always sincerely yours, + Katherine de Puyster Eminent. + + +=LETTERS OF THANKS= + +In the following examples of letters intimate and from young persons, such +profuse expressions as "divine," "awfully," "petrified," "too sweet," "too +wonderful," are purposely inserted, because to change all of the above +enthusiasms into "pleased with," "very," "feared," "most kind," would be +to change the vitality of the "real" letters into smug and self-conscious +utterances at variance with anything ever written by young men and women +of to-day. Even the letters of older persons, although they are more +restrained than those of youth, avoid anything suggesting pedantry and +affectation. + +Do not from this suppose that well-bred people write badly! On the +contrary, perfect simplicity and freedom from self-consciousness are +possible only to those who have acquired at least some degree of +cultivation. For flagrant examples of pretentiousness (which is the +infallible sign of lack of breeding), see page 61. For simplicity of +expression, such as is unattainable to the rest of us, but which we can at +least strive to emulate, read first the Bible; then at random one might +suggest such authors as Robert Louis Stevenson, E.S. Martin, Agnes +Repplier, John Galsworthy and Max Beerbohm. E.V. Lucas has written two +novels in letter form--which illustrate the best type of present day +letter-writing. + + +=LETTERS OF THANKS FOR WEDDING PRESENTS= + +Although all wedding presents belong to the bride, she generally words her +letters of thanks as though they belonged equally to the groom, especially +if they have been sent by particular friends of his. + + +_To Intimate Friends of the Groom_ + + + Dear Mrs. Norman: + + To think of your sending us all this wonderful glass! It is + simply divine, and Jim and I both thank you a thousand times! + + The presents are, of course, to be shown on the day of the + wedding, but do come in on Tuesday at tea time for an earlier + view. + + Thanking you again, and with love from us both, + + Affectionately, + Mary. + + +_Formal_ + +=I= + + + Dear Mrs. Gilding: + + It was more than sweet of you and Mr. Gilding to send us such a + lovely clock. Thank you, very, very much. + + Looking forward to seeing you on the tenth, + + Very sincerely, + Mary Smith. + +Sometimes, as in the two examples above, thanks to the husband are +definitely expressed in writing to the wife. Usually, however, "you" is +understood to mean "you both." + + +=II= + + Dear Mrs. Worldly: + + All my life I have wanted a piece of jade, but in my wanting I + have never imagined one quite so beautiful as the one you have + sent me. It was wonderfully sweet of you and I thank you more + than I can tell you for the pleasure you have given me. + + Affectionately, + Mary Smith. + + +=III.= + + Dear Mrs. Eminent: + + Thank you for these wonderful prints. They go too beautifully + with some old English ones that Jim's uncle sent us, and our + dining-room will be quite perfect--as to walls! + + Hoping that you are surely coming to the wedding, + + Very sincerely, + Mary Smith. + + +_To a Friend Who Is in Deep Mourning_ + + Dear Susan: + + With all you have on your heart just now, it was so sweet and + thoughtful of you to go out and buy me a present, and such a + beautiful one! I love it--and your thought of me in sending + it--and I thank you more than I can tell you. + + Devotedly, + Mary. + + +_Very Intimate_ + + Dear Aunt Kate: + + Really you are too generous--it is outrageous of you--but, of + course, it _is_ the most beautiful bracelet! And I am so + excited oven it, I hardly know what I am doing. You are too good + to me and you spoil me, but I do love you, and it, and thank you + with all my heart. + + Mary. + + +_Intimate_ + + + Dear Mrs. Neighbor: + + The tea cloth is perfectly exquisite! I have never _seen_ such + beautiful work! I appreciate your lovely gift more than I can + tell you, both for its own sake and for your kindness in making + it for me. + + Don't forget, you are coming in on Tuesday afternoon to see the + presents. + + Lovingly, + Mary. + +Sometimes pushing people send presents, when they are not asked to the +wedding, in the hope of an invitation. Sometimes others send presents, +when they are not asked, merely through kindly feeling toward a young +couple on the threshold of life. It ought not to be difficult to +distinguish between the two. + + +=I= + + + My Dear Mrs. Upstart: + + Thank you for the very handsome candlesticks you sent us. They + were a great surprize, but it was more than kind of you to think + of us. + + Very sincerely, + Mary Smith. + + +=II= + + + Dear Mrs. Kindly: + + I can't tell you how sweet I think it of you to send us such a + lovely present, and Jim and I both hope that when we are in our + own home, you will see them often at our table. + + Thanking you many times for your thought of us, + + Very sincerely, + Mary Smith. + + +_For a Present Sent After the Wedding_ + + Dear Mrs. Chatterton: + + The mirror you sent us is going over our drawing-room mantel just + as soon as we can hang it up! It is exactly what we most needed + and we both thank you ever so much. + + Please come in soon to see how becoming it will be to the room. + + Yours affectionately, + Mary Smith Smartlington. + + +=THANKS FOR CHRISTMAS OR OTHER PRESENTS= + + Dear Lucy: + + I really think it was adorable of you to have a chair like yours + made for me. It was worth adding a year to my age for such a nice + birthday present. Jack says I am never going to have a chance to + sit in it, however, if he gets there first, and even the children + look at it with longing. At all events, I am perfectly enchanted + with it, and thank you ever and ever so much. + + Affectionately, + Sally. + + + + Dear Uncle Arthur: + + I know I oughtn't to have opened it until Christmas, but I + couldn't resist the look of the package, and then putting it on + at once! So I am all dressed up in your beautiful chain. It is + one of the loveliest things I have ever seen and I certainly am + lucky to have it given to me I Thank you a thousand--and then + more--times for it. + + Rosalie. + + + Dear Kate: + + I am fascinated with my utility box--it is too beguiling for + words! You are the cleverest one anyway for finding what no one + else can--and every one wants. I don't know how you do it! And + you certainly were sweet to think of me. Thank you, dear. + + Ethel. + + +=THANKS FOR PRESENT TO A BABY= + + Dear Mrs. Kindhart: + + Of course it would be! Because no one else can sew like you! The + sacque you made the baby is the prettiest thing I have ever seen, + and is perfectly adorable on her! Thank you, as usual, you dear + Mrs. Kindhart, for your goodness to + + Your affectionate, + Sally. + + + + Dear Mrs. Norman: + + Thank you ever so much for the lovely afghan you sent the baby. + It is by far the prettiest one he has; it is so soft and + close--he doesn't get his fingers tangled in it. + + Do come in and see him, won't you? We are both allowed visitors + (especial ones) every day between 4 and 5.30! + + Affectionately always, + Lucy. + + +=THE BREAD AND BUTTER LETTER= + +When you have been staying over Sunday, or for longer, in some one's +house, it is absolutely necessary that you write a letter of thanks to +your hostess within a few days after the visit. + +"Bread and butter letters," as they are called, are the stumbling-blocks +of visitors. Why they are so difficult for nearly every one is hard to +determine, unless it is that they are often written to persons with whom +you are on formal terms, and the letter should be somewhat informal in +tone. Very likely you have been visiting a friend, and must write to her +mother, whom you scarcely know; perhaps you have been included in a large +and rather formal house party and the hostess is an acquaintance rather +than a friend; or perhaps you are a bride and have been on a first visit +to relatives or old friends of your husband's, but strangers, until now, +to you. + +As an example of the first, where you have been visiting a girl friend and +must write a letter to her mother, you begin "Dear Mrs. Town" at the top +of a page, and nothing in the forbidding memory of Mrs. Town encourages +you to go further. It would be easy enough to write to Pauline, the +daughter. Very well, write to Pauline then--on an odd piece of paper, in +pencil, what a good time you had, how nice it was to be with her. Then +copy your note composed to Pauline off on the page beginning "Dear Mrs. +Town." You have only to add, "love to Pauline, and thanking you again for +asking me," sign it "Very sincerely," and there you are! + +Don't be afraid that your note is too informal; older people are always +pleased with any expressions from the young that seem friendly and +spontaneous. Never think, because you can not easily write a letter, that +it is better not to write at all. The most awkward note that can be +imagined is better than none--for to write none is the depth of rudeness, +whereas the awkward note merely fails to delight. + + +=EXAMPLES= + +_From a Young Woman to a Formal Hostess After a House Party_ + + Dear Mrs. Norman: + + I don't know when I ever had such a good time as I did at + Broadlawns. Thank you a thousand times for asking me. As it + happened, the first persons I saw on Monday at the Towns' dinner + were Celia and Donald. We immediately had a threesome + conversation on the wonderful time we all had over Sunday. + + Thanking you again for your kindness to me, + + Very sincerely yours, + Grace Smalltalk. + + +_To a Formal Hostess After an Especially Amusing Week-End_ + + Dear Mrs. Worldly: + + Every moment at Great Estates was a perfect delight! I am afraid + my work at the office this morning was down to zero in + efficiency; so perhaps it is just as well, if I am to keep my + job, that the average week-end in the country is different--very. + Thank you all the same, for the wonderful time you gave us all, + and believe me + + Faithfully yours, + Frederick Bachelor. + + Dear Mrs. Worldly: + + Every time I come from Great Estates, I realize again that there + is no house to which I always go with so much pleasure, and leave + on Monday morning with so much regret. + + Your party over this last week-end was simply wonderful! And + thank you ever so much for having included me. + + Always sincerely, + Constance Style. + + +_From a Young Couple_ + + Dear Mrs. Town: + + We had a perfect time at Tuxedo over Sunday and it was so good of + you to include us. Jack says he is going to practise putting the + way Mr. Town showed him, and maybe the next time he plays in a + foursome he won't be such a handicap to his partner. + + Thanking you both for the pleasure you gave us, + + Affectionately yours, + Sally Titherington Littlehouse + + +_From a Bride to Her New Relatives-in-Law_ + +A letter that was written by a bride after paying a first visit to her +husband's aunt and uncle won for her at a stroke the love of the whole +family. + +This is the letter: + + Dear "Aunt Annie": + + Now that it is all over, I have a confession to make! Do you know + that when Dick drove me up to your front door and I saw you and + Uncle Bob standing on the top step--I was simply _paralyzed_ with + fright! + + "Suppose they don't like me," was all that I could think. Of + course, I knew you loved Dick--but that only made it worse. How + awful, if you _couldn't_ like me! The reason I stumbled coming up + the steps was because my knees were actually knocking together! + You remember, Uncle Bob sang out it was good I was already + married, or I wouldn't be this year? And then--you were both so + perfectly adorable to me--and you made me feel as though I had + always been your niece--and not just the wife of your nephew. + + I loved every minute of our being with you, dear Aunt Annie, just + as much as Dick did, and we hope you are going to let us come + soon again. + + With best love from us both, + + Your affectionate niece, + Helen. + +The above type of letter would not serve perhaps if Dick's aunt had been a +forbidding and austere type of woman; but even such a one would be far +more apt to take a new niece to her heart if the new niece herself gave +evidence of having one. + + +_After Visiting a Friend_ + + Dear Kate: + + It was hideously dull and stuffy in town this morning after the + fresh coolness of Strandholm. The back yard is not an alluring + outlook after the wide spaces and delicious fragrance of your + garden. + + It was good being with you and I enjoyed every moment. Don't + forget you are lunching here on the 16th and that we are going to + hear Kreisler together. + + Devotedly always, + Caroline. + + +_From a Man Who Has Been Ill and Convalescing at a Friend's House_ + + Dear Martha: + + I certainly hated taking that train this morning and realizing + that the end had come to my peaceful days. You and John and the + children, and your place, which is the essence of all that a + "home" ought to be, have put me on my feet again. I thank you + much--much more than I can say for the wonderful goodness of all + of you. + + Fred. + + +_From a Woman Who Has Been Visiting a Very Old Friend_ + + I loved my visit with you, dear Mary; it was more than good to be + with you and have a chance for long talks at your fireside. Don't + forget your promise to come here in May! I told Sam and Hettie + you were coming, and now the whole town is ringing with the news, + and every one is planning a party for you. + + David sends "his best" to you and Charlie, and you know you + always have the love of + + Your devoted + Pat. + + +_To an Acquaintance_ + +After a visit to a formal acquaintance or when some one has shown you +especial hospitality in a city where you are a stranger: + + My dear Mrs. Duluth: + + It was more than good of you to give my husband and me so much + pleasure. We enjoyed, and appreciated, all your kindness to us + more than we can say. + + We hope that you and Mr. Duluth may be coming East before long + and that we may then have the pleasure of seeing you at + Strandholm. + + In the meanwhile, thanking you for your generous hospitality, and + with kindest regards to you both, in which my husband joins, + believe me, + + Very sincerely yours, + Katherine de Puyster Eminent. + + +=AN ENGRAVED CARD OF THANKS= + +An engraved card of thanks is proper only when sent by a public official +to acknowledge the overwhelming number of congratulatory messages he must +inevitably receive from strangers, when he has carried an election or +otherwise been honored with the confidence of his State or country. A +recent and excellent example follows: + + +=EXECUTIVE MANSION= + + My dear.... + +=I warmly appreciate your kind message of congratulation which has given +me a great deal of pleasure, and sincerely wish that it were possible for +me to acknowledge it in a less formal manner.= + + =Faithfully,= + + (_signed by hand_) + + + An engraved form of thanks for sympathy, also from + one in public life, is presented in the following example: + + Mr. John Smith + wishes to express his deep gratitude + and to thank you + for your kind expression of sympathy + +_But remember_: an engraved card sent by a private individual to a +personal friend, is not "stylish" or smart, but _rude_. (See also +engraved acknowledgment of sympathy, pages 406-7.) + + +=THE LETTER OF INTRODUCTION= + +A letter of business introduction can be much more freely given than a +letter of social introduction. For the former it is necessary merely that +the persons introduced have business interests in common--which are much +more easily determined than social compatibility, which is the requisite +necessary for the latter. It is, of course, proper to give your personal +representative a letter of introduction to whomever you send him. + +On the subject of letters of social introduction there is one chief rule: + +Never _ask_ for letters of introduction, and be very sparing in your +offers to write or accept them. + +Seemingly few persons realize that a letter of social introduction is +actually a draft for payment on demand. The form might as well be: "The +bearer of this has (because of it) the right to _demand your interest_, +your time, your hospitality--liberally and at once, no matter what your +inclination may be." + +Therefore, it is far better to refuse in the beginning, than to hedge and +end by committing the greater error of unwarrantedly inconveniencing a +valued friend or acquaintance. + +When you have a friend who is going to a city where you have other +friends, and you believe that it will be a mutual pleasure for them to +meet, a letter of introduction is proper and very easy to write, but sent +to a casual acquaintance--no matter how attractive or distinguished the +person to be introduced--it is a gross presumption. + + +=THE MORE FORMAL NOTE OF INTRODUCTION= + + Dear Mrs. Marks: + + Julian Gibbs is going to Buffalo on January tenth to deliver a + lecture on his Polar expedition, and I am sending him a card of + introduction to you. He is very agreeable personally, and I think + that perhaps you and Mr. Marks will enjoy meeting him as much as + I know he would enjoy knowing you. + + With kindest regards, in which Arthur joins, + + Very sincerely, + Ethel Norman. + +If Mr. Norman were introducing one man to another he would give his card +to the former, inscribed as follows: + + [HW: Introducing Julian Gibbs] + + =MR. ARTHUR LEES NORMAN= + + BROADLAWNS + +Also Mr. Norman would send a private letter by mail, telling his friend +that Mr. Gibbs is coming, as follows: + + Dear Marks: + + I am giving Julian Gibbs a card of introduction to you when he + goes to Buffalo on the tenth to lecture. He is an entertaining + and very decent fellow, and I think possibly Mrs. Marks would + enjoy meeting him. If you can conveniently ask him to your house, + I know he would appreciate it; if not, perhaps you will put him + up for a day or two at a club. + + Faithfully, + Arthur Norman. + + +=INFORMAL LETTER OF INTRODUCTION= + + Dear Claire: + + A very great friend of ours, James Dawson, is to be in Chicago + for several weeks. Any kindness that you can show him will be + greatly appreciated by + + Yours as always, + Ethel Norman. + +At the same time a second and private letter of information is written +and sent by mail: + + Dear Claire: + + I wrote you a letter to-day introducing Jim Dawson. He used to be + on the Yalvard football team, perhaps you remember. He is one of + the best sort in the world and I know you will like him. I don't + want to put you to any trouble, but do ask him to your house if + you can. He plays a wonderful game of golf and a good game of + bridge, but he is more a man's than a woman's type of man. Maybe + if Tom likes him, he will put him up at a club as he is to be in + Chicago for some weeks. + + Affectionately always, + Ethel. + +Another example: + + Dear Caroline: + + A very dear friend of mine, Mrs. Fred West, is going to be in New + York this winter, while her daughter is at Barnard. I am asking + her to take this letter to you as I want very much to have her + meet you and have her daughter meet Pauline. Anything that you + can do for them will be the same as for me! + + Yours affectionately, + Sylvia Greatlake. + +The private letter by mail to accompany the foregoing: + + Dearest Caroline: + + Mildred West, for whom I wrote to you this morning, is a very + close friend of mine. She is going to New York with her only + daughter--who, in spite of wanting a college education, is as + pretty as a picture, with plenty of come-hither in the eye--so do + not be afraid that the typical blue-stocking is to be thrust upon + Pauline! The mother is an altogether lovely person and I know + that you and she will speak the same language--if I didn't, I + wouldn't give her a letter to you. Do go to see her as soon as + you can; she will be stopping at the Fitz-Cherry and probably + feeling rather lost at first. She wants to take an apartment for + the winter and I told her I was sure you would know the best real + estate and intelligence offices, etc., for her to go to. + + I hope I am not putting you to any trouble about her, but she is + really a darling and you will like her I know. + + Devotedly yours, + Sylvia. + +Directions for procedure upon being given (or receiving) a letter of +introduction will be found on pages 16 and 17. + + +=THE THIRD PERSON= + +In other days when even verbal messages began with the "presenting of +compliments," a social note, no matter what its length or purport, would +have been considered rude, unless written in the third person. But as in a +communication of any length the difficulty of this form is almost +insurmountable (to say nothing of the pedantic effect of its +accomplishment), it is no longer chosen--aside from the formal invitation, +acceptance and regret--except for notes to stores or subordinates. For +example: + + Will B. Stern & Co. please send (and charge) to Mrs. John H. + Smith, 2 Madison Avenue, + + 1 paper of needles No. 9 + 2 spools white sewing Cotton No. 70 + 1 yard of material (sample enclosed). + + January 6. + +To a servant: + + Mrs. Eminent wishes Patrick to meet her at the station on Tuesday + the eighth at 11.03. She also wishes him to have the shutters + opened and the house aired on that day, and a fire lighted in the + northwest room. No provisions will be necessary as Mrs. Eminent + is returning to town on the 5.16. + + Tuesday, March 1. + + +Letters in the third person are no longer signed unless the sender's +signature is necessary for identification, or for some action on the part +of the receiver, such as + + Will Mr. Cash please give the bearer six yards of material to + match the sample enclosed, and oblige, + + Mrs. John H. Smith.[A] + +[Footnote A: A note in 3rd person is the single occasion when a married +woman signs "Mrs." before her name.] + + +=THE LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION= + +A letter of recommendation for membership to a club is addressed to the +secretary and should be somewhat in this form: + + +To the Secretary of the Town Club. + + My dear Mrs. Brown: + + Mrs. Titherington Smith, whose name is posted for membership, is + a very old and close friend of mine. She is the daughter of the + late Rev. Samuel Eminent and is therefore a member in her own + right, as well as by marriage, of representative New York + families. + +She is a person of much charm and distinction, and her many friends will +agree with me, I am sure, in thinking that she would be a valuable +addition to the club. + + Very sincerely, + Ethel Norman. + + +=RECOMMENDATION OF EMPLOYEES= + +Although the written recommendation that is given to the employee carries +very little weight, compared to the slip from the employment agencies +where either "yes" or "no" has to be answered to a list of specific and +important questions, one is nevertheless put in a trying position when +reporting on an unsatisfactory servant. + +Either a poor reference must be given--possibly preventing a servant from +earning her living--or one has to write what is not true. Consequently it +has become the custom to say what one truthfully can of good, and leave +out the qualifications that are bad (except in the case of a careless +nurse, where evasion would border on the criminal). + +That solves the poor recommendation problem pretty well; but unless one is +very careful this consideration for the "poor" one, is paid for by the +"good." In writing for a very worthy servant therefore, it is of the +utmost importance in fairness to her (or him) to put in every merit that +you can think of, remembering that omission implies demerit in each trait +of character not mentioned. All good references should include honesty, +sobriety, capability, and a reason, other than their unsatisfactoriness, +for their leaving. The recommendation for a nurse can not be too +conscientiously written. + +A lady does not begin a recommendation: "To whom it may concern," nor +"This is to certify," although housekeepers and head servants writing +recommendations use both of these forms, and "third person" letters, are +frequently written by secretaries. + +A lady in giving a good reference should write: + + Two Hundred Park Square. + + Selma Johnson has lived with me for two years as cook. + + I have found her honest, sober, industrious, neat in her person + as well as her work, of amiable disposition and a very good cook. + + She is leaving to my great regret because I am closing my house + for the winter. + + Selma is an excellent servant in every way and I shall be glad to + answer personally any inquiries about her. + + Josephine Smith. + (Mrs. Titherington Smith) + October, 1921. + + + + + +The form of all recommendations is the same: + + ---- has lived with me ---- months years as ----. I have found + him/ her ----. He/She is leaving because ----. + +(Any special remark of added recommendation or showing interest) + + ---- + (Mrs. ----) + + Date. + + +=LETTERS OF CONGRATULATION= + + +=LETTER OF CONGRATULATION ON ENGAGEMENT= + + + Dear Mary: + + While we are not altogether surprized, we are both delighted to + hear the good news. Jim's family and ours are very close, as you + know, and we have always been especially devoted to Jim. He is + one of the finest--and now luckiest, of young men, and we send + you both every good wish for all possible happiness. + + Affectionately, + Ethel Norman. + + + Just a line, dear Jim, to tell you how glad we all are to hear of + your happiness. Mary is everything that is lovely and, of course, + from our point of view, we don't think her exactly unfortunate + either! Every good wish that imagination can think of goes to you + from your old friends. + + Ethel and Arthur Norman. + + + I can't tell you, dearest Mary, of all the wishes I send for your + happiness. Give Jim my love and tell him how lucky I think he is, + and how much I hope all good fortune will come to you both. + + Lovingly, + Aunt Kate. + + +=CONGRATULATION ON SOME ESPECIAL SUCCESS= + + + My dear Mrs. Brown: + + We have just heard of the honors that your son has won. How proud + you must be of him! We are both so glad for him and for you. + Please congratulate him for us, and believe me, + + Very sincerely, + Ethel Norman. + +Or: + + Dear Mrs. Brown: + + We are so glad to hear the good news of David's success; it was a + very splendid accomplishment and we are all so proud of him and + of you. Please give him our love and congratulations, and with + full measure of both to you, + + Affectionately, + Martha Kindhart. + + +=CONGRATULATING A FRIEND APPOINTED TO HIGH OFFICE= + + Dear John: + + We are overjoyed at the good news! For once the reward has fallen + where it is deserved. Certainly no one is better fitted than + yourself for a diplomat's life, and we know you will fill the + position to the honor of your country. Please give my love to + Alice, and with renewed congratulations to you from us both. + + Yours always, + Ethel Norman. + + +Another example: + + Dear Michael: + + We all rejoice with you in the confirmation of your appointment. + The State needs just such men as you--if we had more of your sort + the ordinary citizen would have less to worry about. Our best + congratulations! + + John Kindhart. + + +=THE LETTER OF CONDOLENCE= + +Intimate letters of condolence are like love letters, in that they are too +sacred to follow a set form. One rule, and one only, should guide you in +writing such letters. Say what you truly feel. Say that and nothing else. +Sit down at your desk, let your thoughts dwell on the person you are +writing to. + +Don't dwell on the details of illness or the manner of death; don't quote +endlessly from the poets and Scriptures. Remember that eyes filmed with +tears and an aching heart can not follow rhetorical lengths of writing. +The more nearly a note can express a hand-clasp, a thought of sympathy, +above all, a genuine love or appreciation of the one who has gone, the +greater comfort it brings. + +Write as simply as possible and let your heart speak as truly and as +briefly as you can. Forget, if you can, that you are using written words, +think merely how you feel--then put your feelings on paper--that is all. + +Supposing it is a young mother who has died. You think how young and sweet +she was--and of her little children, and, literally, your heart aches for +them and her husband and her own family. Into your thoughts must come some +expression of what she was, and what their loss must be! + +Or maybe it is the death of a man who has left a place in the whole +community that will be difficult, if not impossible, to fill, and you +think of all he stood for that was fine and helpful to others, and how +much and sorely he will be missed. Or suppose that you are a returned +soldier, and it is a pal who has died. All you can think of is "Poor old +Steve--what a peach he was! I don't think anything will ever be the same +again without him." Say just that! Ask if there is anything you can do at +any time to be of service to his people. There is nothing more to be said. +A line, into which you have unconsciously put a little of the genuine +feeling that you had for Steve, is worth pages of eloquence. + +A letter of condolence may be abrupt, badly constructed, +ungrammatical--never mind. Grace of expression counts for nothing; +sincerity alone is of value. It is the expression, however clumsily put, +of a personal something which was loved, and will ever be missed, that +alone brings solace to those who are left. Your message may speak merely +of a small incident--something so trifling that in the seriousness of the +present, seems not worth recording; but your letter and that of many +others, each bringing a single sprig, may plant a whole memory-garden in +the hearts of the bereaved. + + +=EXAMPLES OF NOTES AND TELEGRAMS= + +As has been said above, a letter of condolence must above everything +express a genuine sentiment. The few examples are inserted merely as +suggestive guides for those at a loss to construct a short but appropriate +note or telegram. + + +_Conventional Note to an Acquaintance_ + + I know how little the words of an outsider mean to you just + now--but I must tell you how deeply I sympathize with you in your + great loss. + + +_Note or Telegram to a Friend_ + + All my sympathy and all my thoughts are with you in your great + sorrow. If I can be of any service to you, you know how grateful + I shall be. + +_Telegram to a Very Near Relative or Friend_ + + Words are so empty! If only I knew how to fill them with love and + send them to you. + +Or: + + If love and thoughts could only help you, Margaret dear, you + should have all the strength of both that I can give. + + +_Letter Where Death Was Release_ + +The letter to one whose loss is "for the best" is difficult in that you +want to express sympathy but can not feel sad that one who has long +suffered has found release. The expression of sympathy in this case should +not be for the present death, but for the illness, or whatever it was that +fell long ago. The grief for a paralysed mother is for the stroke which +cut her down many years before, and your sympathy, though you may not have +realized it, is for that. You might write: + + Your sorrow during all these years--and now--is in my heart; and + all my thoughts and sympathy are with you. + + + +=HOW TO ADDRESS IMPORTANT PERSONAGES= + +===============+=====================+============================+============= + | If you | | Formal + | are speaking, | | beginning of + | you say: | Envelope addressed: | a letter: +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +The President | Mr. President | The President of the | Sir: + | And occasionally | United States | + | throughout a | or merely | + | conversation, | The President, | + | Sir. | Washington, D.C. | + | | (There is only one | + | | "President") | + | | | + | | | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +The | Mr. Vice-President | The Vice-President, | Sir: +Vice-President | and then, Sir. | Washington, D.C. | + | | | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Justice of | Mr. Justice | The Hon. William H. Taft, | Sir: +Supreme Court | | Chief Justice of the | + | | Supreme Court, | + | | Washington, D.C. | + | | | + | | | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Member of the | Mr. Secretary | The Secretary of Commerce, | Dear Sir: +President's | | Washington, D.C. or: | or +Cabinet | | The Hon. Herbert Hoover, | Sir: + | | Secretary of Commerce, | + | | Washington, D.C. | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +United States | Senator Lodge | Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, | Dear Sir: +(or State) | | Washington, D.C. | or +Senator | | or a private letter: | Sir: + | | Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, | + | | (His house address) | + | | | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Member of | Mr. Bell | The Hon. H.C. Bell, Jr., | Dear Sir: +Congress (or | or, you may say | House of Representatives, | or +Legislature) | Congressman | Washington, D.C. | Sir: + | | or: State Assembly, | + | | Albany, New York. | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Governor | Governor Miller | His Excellency, The | + | (The Governor is | Governor, | Your + | not called | Albany, New York. | Excellency: + | Excellency when | | + | spoken to and very | | + | rarely when he is | | + | announced. But | | + | letters are | | + | addressed and begun | | + | with this title | | + | of courtesy.) | | +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Mayor | Mr. Mayor | His Honor the Mayor, | Dear Sir: + | | City Hall, Chicago. | or + | | | Sir: +---------------+---------------------+----------------------------+------------- +Cardinal | Your Eminence | His Eminence John Cardinal | Your + | | Gibbons, Baltimore, Md. | Eminence: + | | | + | | | +===============+=====================+========================================== + + + +(section 2) ++==============+================================================================ +| | | | +| Informal | | | Correct titles in +| beginning: | Formal Close: | Informal close: | introduction: +|--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| My dear Mr. | I have the honor to | | +| President: | remain, | I have the honor to | +| | Most respectfully | remain, | +| | yours, | Yours faithfully, | +| | or | or | The President. +| | I have the honor to | I am, dear | +| | remain, sir, | Mr. President, | +| | Your most obedient | Yours faithfully. | +| | servant. | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| My dear | Same as for | Believe me, | The +| Mr. Vice | President. | Yours faithfully. | Vice-President. +| President: | | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Dear Mr. | Believe me, | | The Chief Justice +| Justice | Yours very truly, | | or, +| Taft: | or | Believe me, | if an +| | I have the honor to | Yours faithfully. | Associate Justice, +| | remain, | | Mr. Justice +| | Yours very truly. | | Holmes. ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| My dear Mr. | | | The Secretary +| Secretary: | Same as above. | Same as above. | of Commerce. +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Dear Senator | | | Senator Lodge. +| Lodge: | | | On very formal +| | Same as above. | Same as above. | and unusual +| | | | occasions, +| | | | Senator Lodge of +| | | | Massachusetts. ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Dear | | | Mr. Bell. +| Mr. Bell: | Believe me, | | +| or | Yours very truly. | Yours faithfully. | +| Dear | | | +| Congressman: | | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Dear | | | The Governor +| Governor | I have the honor to | Believe me, |(in his own state) +| Miller: | remain, | Yours faithfully. | or, (out of it,) +| | Yours faithfully. | | The Governor of +| | | | Michigan. +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Dear Mayor | Believe me, | Yours faithfully. | Mayor Rolph. +| Rolph: | Very truly yours. | | +| | | | ++--------------+---------------------+---------------------+-------------------- +| Your | I have the honor to | | +| Eminence: | remain, | Your Eminence's | His Eminence. +| | Your Eminence's | humble servant. | +| | humble servant. | | ++==============+=====================+=====================+==================== + + + +=HOW TO ADDRESS IMPORTANT PERSONAGES= + +===============+======================+=======================+================= + | | | + | If you are | Envelope | Formal beginning + | speaking, you say: | addressed: | of a letter +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Roman Catholic | Your Grace | The Most Reverend | Most Reverend +Archbishop | | Michael Corrigan, | and dear Sir: +(There is no | | Archbishop of | +Protestant | | New York. | +Archbishop in | | | +the United | | | +States) | | | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Bishop | Bishop Manning | To the Right Reverend | Most Reverend +(Whether Roman | | William T. Manning, | and dear Sir: +Catholic or | | Bishop of New York. | +Protestant.) | | | + | | | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Priest | Father or | The Rev. | Reverend + | Father Duffy | Michael Duffy. | and dear Sir: +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Protestant | Mr. Saintly | The Rev. Geo. | Sir: +Clergyman | (If he is D.D. or | Saintly. (If you do | or + | LL.D., you call him | not know his first | My dear Sir: + | Dr. Saintly.) | name, write The | + | | Rev. ... Saintly. | + | | rather than the | + | | Rev. Mr. Saintly) | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Rabbi | Rabbi Wise | Dr. Stephen Wise, | Dear Sir: + | (If he is D.D. or | or Rabbi Stephen | + | LL.D., he is called | Wise, or Rev. | + | Dr. Wise) | Stephen Wise. | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Ambassador | Your Excellency | His Excellency | Your + | or | The American | Excellency: + | Mr. Ambassador | Ambassador,[B] | + | | American Embassy, | + | | London. | + | | | + | | | + | | | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Minister | In English he is | The Hon. J.D. | Sir: is +Pleni- | usually called "Mr. | Prince, American | correct but, +potentiary | Prince," though it | Legation, | Your + | is not incorrect to | Copenhagen, or | Excellency: + | call him "Mr. | (more courteously) | is sometimes + | Minister." The | His Excellency, The | used in + | title "Excellency" | American Minister, | courtesy. + | is also occasionally | Copenhagen, Denmark | + | used in courtesy, | | + | though it does not | | + | belong to him. | | + | In French he is | | + | always called | | + | _Monsieur le | | + | Ministre_ | | +---------------+----------------------+-----------------------+----------------- +Consul | Mr. Smith | If he has held office | Sir: + | | as assemblyman or | or + | | commissioner, so that | My dear Sir: + | | he has the right to | + | | the title of | + | | "Honorable" is | + | | addressed: | + | | The Hon. John Smith, | + | | otherwise: | + | | John Smith, Esq., | + | | American Consul, | + | | Rue Quelque Chose, | + | | Paris. | +===============+======================+=======================+================= + + +(section 2) ++===================+=========================+================+================ +| | | | Correct +| Informal | | Informal | titles in +| beginning: | Formal close: | close: | introduction: ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Most Reverend | I have the honor | Same as formal | The Most +| and Dear Sir: | to remain, | close. | Reverend The +| | Your humble servant, | | Archbishop. +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| My Dear Bishop | I have the honor to | Faithfully | Bishop +| Manning: | remain, Your obedient | yours. | Manning. +| | servant, or, to | | +| | remain, | | +| | Respectfully yours, | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Father | I beg to remain, | Faithfully | Father +| Duffy: | Yours faithfully, | yours. | Duffy. +|-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Dr. Saintly: | Same as above, | Faithfully | Dr. (or Mr.) +| (or Dear Mr. | | yours, or | Saintly +| Saintly if he is | | Sincerely | +| not a D.D.) | | yours, | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Dr. Wise: | I beg to remain, | Yours | Rabbi Wise. +| | Yours sincerely, | sincerely, | +| | | | +| | | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Mr. | I have the honor to | Yours | The +| Ambassador: | remain, Yours | faithfully, | American +| | faithfully, or, Yours | | Ambassador. +| | very truly, or, Yours | | +| | respectfully. or very | | +| | formally: I have the | | +| | honor to remain, sir, | | +| | your obedient servant. | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Mr. | Same as above. | Yours | Mr. Prince, +| Minister: | | faithfully, | the American +| or Dear | | | Minister, or +| Mr. Prince: | | | merely, The +| | | | American +| | | | Minister as +| | | | everyone is +| | | | supposed to +| | | | know his name +| | | | or find it +| | | | out. +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++-------------------+-------------------------+----------------+---------------- +| Dear Mr. Smith: | I beg to remain, | Faithfully, | Mr. Smith +| | Yours very truly. | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | +| | | | ++===================+=========================+================+================ + +[Footnote B: Although our Ambassadors and Ministers represent the United +States of America, it is customary both in Europe and Asia to omit the +words United States and write to and speak of the American Embassy and +Legation. In addressing a letter to one of our representatives in +countries of the Western Hemisphere, "The United States of America" is +always specified by way of courtesy to the Americans of South America.] + + + +Foreign persons of title are not included in the foregoing diagram because +an American (unless in the Diplomatic Service) would be unlikely to +address any but personal friends, to whom he would write as to any others. +An envelope would be addressed in the language of the person written to: +"His Grace, the Duke of Overthere (or merely The Duke of Overthere), Hyde +Park, London"; "Mme. la Princess d'Acacia, Ave. du Bois, Paris"; "Il +Principe di Capri, Cusano sul Seveso"; "Lady Alwin, Cragmere, Scotland," +etc. The letter would begin, Dear Duke of Overthere (or Dear Duke), Dear +Princess, Dear Countess Aix, Dear Lady Alwin, Dear Sir Hubert, etc., and +close, "Sincerely," "Faithfully," or "Affectionately," as the case might +be. + +Should an American have occasion to write to Royalty he would begin: +"Madam" (or Sir), and end: "I have the honor to remain, madam (or Sir), +your most obedient." ("Your most obedient servant" is a signature reserved +usually for our own President--or Vice-President.) + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +LONGER LETTERS + + +The art of general letter-writing in the present day is shrinking until +the letter threatens to become a telegram, a telephone message, a +post-card. Since the events of the day are transmitted in newspapers with +far greater accuracy, detail, and dispatch than they could be by the +single effort of even Voltaire himself, the circulation of general news, +which formed the chief reason for letters of the stage-coach and +sailing-vessel days, has no part in the correspondence of to-day. + +Taking the contents of an average mail bag as sorted in a United States +post-office, about fifty per cent. is probably advertisement or appeal, +forty per cent. business, and scarcely ten per cent. personal letters and +invitations. Of course, love letters are probably as numerous as need be, +though the long distance telephone must have lowered the average of these, +too. Young girls write to each other, no doubt, much as they did in olden +times, and letters between young girls and young men flourish to-day like +unpulled weeds in a garden where weeds were formerly never allowed to +grow. + +It is the letter from the friend in this city to the friend in that, or +from the traveling relative to the relative at home, that is gradually +dwindling. As for the letter which younger relatives dutifully used to +write--it has gone already with old-fashioned grace of speech and +deportment. + +Still, people do write letters in this day and there are some who possess +the divinely flexible gift for a fresh turn of phrase, for delightful +keenness of observation. It may be, too, that in other days the average +writing was no better than the average of to-day. It is naturally the +letters of those who had unusual gifts which have been preserved all +these years, for the failures of a generation are made to die with it, and +only its successes survive. + +The difference though, between letter-writers of the past and of the +present, is that in other days they all tried to write, and to express +themselves the very best they knew how--to-day people don't care a bit +whether they write well or ill. Mental effort is one thing that the +younger generation of the "smart world" seems to consider it unreasonable +to ask--and just as it is the fashion to let their spines droop until they +suggest nothing so much as Tenniel's drawing in Alice in Wonderland of the +caterpillar sitting on the toad-stool--so do they let their mental +faculties relax, slump and atrophy. + +To such as these, to whom effort is an insurmountable task, it might be +just as well to say frankly: If you have a mind that is entirely bromidic, +if you are lacking in humor, all power of observation, and facility for +expression, you had best join the ever-growing class of people who frankly +confess, "I can't write letters to save my life!" and confine your +literary efforts to picture post-cards with the engaging captions "X is my +room," or "Beautiful weather, wish you were here." + +It is not at all certain that your friends and family would not rather +have frequent post-cards than occasional letters all too obviously +displaying the meagerness of their messages in halting orthography. + + +=BEGINNING A LETTER= + +For most people the difficulty in letter-writing is in the beginning and +the close. Once they are started, the middle goes smoothly enough, until +they face the difficulty of the end. The direction of the Professor of +English to "Begin at the beginning of what you have to say, and go on +until you have finished, and then stop," is very like a celebrated +artist's direction for painting: "You simply take a little of the right +color paint and put it on the right spot." + + +=HOW NOT TO BEGIN= + +Even one who "loves the very sight of your handwriting," could not +possibly find any pleasure in a letter beginning: + + "I have been meaning to write you for a long time but haven't had + a minute to spare." + +Or: + + "I suppose you have been thinking me very neglectful, but you + know how I hate to write letters." + +Or: + + "I know I ought to have answered your letter sooner, but I + haven't had a thing to write about." + +The above sentences are written time and again by persons who are utterly +unconscious that they are not expressing a friendly or loving thought. If +one of your friends were to walk into the room, and you were to receive +him stretched out and yawning in an easy chair, no one would have to point +out the rudeness of such behavior; yet countless kindly intentioned people +begin their letters mentally reclining and yawning in just such a way. + + +=HOW TO BEGIN A LETTER= + +Suppose you merely change the wording of the above sentences, so that +instead of slamming the door in your friend's face, you hold it open: + + "Do you think I have forgotten you entirely? You don't know, dear + Mary, how many letters I have written you in thought." + +Or: + + "Time and time again I have wanted to write you but each moment + that I saved for myself was always interrupted by _something_." + +One of the frequent difficulties in beginning a letter is that your answer +is so long delayed that you begin with an apology, which is always a lame +duck. But these examples indicate a way in which even an opening apology +may be attractive rather than repellent. If you are going to take the +trouble to write a letter, you are doing it because you have at least +remembered some one with friendly regard, or you would not be writing at +all. You certainly would like to convey the impression that you want to be +with your friend in thought for a little while at least--not that she +through some malignant force is holding you to a grindstone and forcing +you to the task of making hateful schoolroom pot-hooks for her selfish +gain. + +A perfect letter has always the effect of being a light dipping off of the +top of a spring. A poor letter suggests digging into the dried ink at the +bottom of an ink-well. + +It is easy to begin a letter if it is in answer to one that has just been +received. The news contained in it is fresh and the impulse to reply needs +no prodding. + +Nothing can be simpler than to say: "We were all overjoyed to hear from +you this morning," or, "Your letter was the most welcome thing the postman +has brought for ages," or, "It was more than good to have news of you this +morning," or, "Your letter from Capri brought all the allure of Italy back +to me," or, "You can't imagine, dear Mary, how glad I was to see an +envelope with your writing this morning." And then you take up the various +subjects in Mary's letter, which should certainly launch you without +difficulty upon topics of your own. + + +=ENDING A LETTER= + +Just as the beginning of a letter should give the reader an impression of +greeting, so should the end express friendly or affectionate leave-taking. +Nothing can be worse than to seem to scratch helplessly around in the air +for an idea that will effect your escape. + +"Well, I guess I must stop now," "Well, I must close," or, "You are +probably bored with this long epistle, so I had better close." + +All of these are as bad as they can be, and suggest the untutored man who +stands first on one foot and then on the other, running his finger around +the brim of his hat, or the country girl twisting the corner of her apron. + + +=HOW TO END A LETTER= + +An intimate letter has no end at all. When you leave the house of a member +of your family, you don't have to think up an especial sentence in order +to say good-by. + +Leave-taking in a letter is the same: + + "Good-by, dearest, for to-day. + Devotedly, + Kate." + +Or: + + "Best love to you all, + Martin." + +Or: + + "Will write again in a day or two. + Lovingly, + Mary." + +Or: + + "Luncheon was announced half a page ago! So good-by, dear Mary, + for to-day." + +The close of a less intimate letter, like taking leave of a visitor in +your drawing-room, is necessarily more ceremonious. And the "ceremonious +close" presents to most people the greatest difficulty in letter-writing. + +It is really quite simple, if you realize that the aim of the closing +paragraph is merely to bring in a personal hyphen between the person +writing and the person written to. + +"The mountains were beautiful at sunset." It is a bad closing sentence +because "the mountains" have nothing personal to either of you. But if you +can add "--they reminded me of the time we were in Colorado together," or +"--how different from our wide prairies at home," you have crossed a +bridge, as it were. + +Or: + +"We have had a wonderful trip, but I do miss you all at home, and long to +hear from you soon again." + +Or (from one at home): + +"Your closed house makes me very lonely to pass. I do hope you are coming +back soon." + +Sometimes an ending falls naturally into a sentence that ends with your +signature. "If I could look up now and see you coming into the room, there +would be no happier woman in the whole State than + + Your devoted mother." + + +=LETTERS NO ONE CARES TO READ= + +=LETTERS OF CALAMITY= + +First and foremost in the category of letters that no one can possibly +receive with pleasure might be put the "letter of calamity," the letter of +gloomy apprehension, the letter filled with petty annoyances. Less +disturbing to receive but far from enjoyable are such letters as "the +blank," the "meandering," the "letter of the capital I," the "plaintive," +the "apologetic." There is scarcely any one who has not one or more +relatives or friends whose letters belong in one of these classes. + +Even in so personal a matter as the letter to an absent member of one's +immediate family, it should be borne in mind, not to write _needlessly_ of +misfortune or unhappiness. To hear from those we love how ill or unhappy +they are, is to have our distress intensified in direct proportion to the +number of miles by which we are separated from them. This last example, +however, has nothing in common with the choosing of calamity and gloom as +a subject of welcome tidings in ordinary correspondence. + +The chronic calamity writers seem to wait until the skies are darkest, and +then, rushing to their desk, luxuriate in pouring all their troubles and +fears of troubles out on paper to their friends. + + +=LETTERS OF GLOOMY APPREHENSION= + +"My little Betty ["My little" adds to the pathos much more than saying +merely "Betty"] has been feeling miserable for several days. I am worried +to death about her, as there are so many sudden cases of typhoid and +appendicitis. The doctor says the symptoms are not at all alarming as yet, +but doctors see so much of illness and death, they don't seem to +appreciate what anxiety means to a mother," etc. + +Another writes: "The times seem to be getting worse and worse. I always +said we would have to go through a long night before any chance of +daylight. You can mark my words, the night of bad times isn't much more +than begun." + +Or, "I have scarcely slept for nights, worrying about whether Junior has +passed his examinations or not." + + +=LETTERS OF PETTY MISFORTUNES= + +Other perfectly well-meaning friends fancy they are giving pleasure when +they write such "news" as: "My cook has been sick for the past ten days," +and follow this with a page or two descriptive of her ailments; or, "I +have a slight cough. I think I must have caught it yesterday when I went +out in the rain without rubbers"; or, "The children have not been doing as +well in their lessons this week as last. Johnny's arithmetic marks were +dreadful and Katie got an E in spelling and an F in geography." Her +husband and her mother would be interested in the children's weekly +reports, and her own slight cough, but no one else. How could they be? + +If the writers of all such letters would merely read over what they have +written, and ask themselves if they could find pleasure in receiving +messages of like manner and matter, perhaps they might begin to do a +little thinking, and break the habit of cataleptic unthinkingness that +seemingly descends upon them as soon as they are seated at their desk. + + +=THE BLANK= + +The writer of the "blank" letter begins fluently with the date and "Dear +Mary," and then sits and chews his penholder or makes little dots and +squares and circles on the blotter-utterly unable to attack the cold, +forbidding blankness of that first page. Mentally, he seems to say: "Well, +here I am--and now what?" He has not an idea! He can never find anything +of sufficient importance to write about. A murder next door, a house +burned to the ground, a burglary or an elopement could alone furnish +material; and that, too, would be finished off in a brief sentence stating +the bare fact. + +A person whose life is a revolving wheel of routine may have really very +little to say, but a letter does not have to be long to be welcome--it can +be very good indeed if it has a message that seems to have been spoken. + + Dear Lucy: + + "Life here is as dull as ever--duller if anything. Just the same + old things done in the same old way--not even a fire engine out + or a new face in town, but this is to show you that I am thinking + of you and longing to hear from you." + +Or: + "I wish something really exciting would happen so that I might have + something with a little thrill in it to write you, but everything goes + on and on--if there were any check in its sameness, I think we'd all + land in a heap against the edge of the town." + + +=THE MEANDERING LETTER= + +As its name implies, the meandering letter is one which dawdles through +disconnected subjects, like a trolley car gone down grade off the track, +through fences and fields and flower-beds indiscriminately. "Mrs. Blake's +cow died last week, the Governor and his wife were on the Reception +Committee; Mary Selfridge went to stay with her aunt in Riverview; I think +the new shade called Harding blue is perfectly hideous." + +Another that is almost akin to it, runs glibly on, page after page of +meaningless repetition and detail. "I thought at first that I would get a +gray dress--I think gray is such a pretty color, and I have had so many +blue dresses. I can't decide this time whether to get blue or gray. +Sometimes I think gray is more becoming to me than blue. I think gray +looks well on fair-haired people--I don't know whether you would call my +hair fair or not? I am certainly not dark, and yet fair hair suggests a +sort of straw color. Maybe I might be called medium fair. Do you think I +am light enough to wear gray? Maybe blue would be more serviceable. Gray +certainly looks pretty in the spring, it is so clean and fresh looking. +There is a lovely French model at Benson's in gray, but I can have it +copied for less in blue. Maybe it won't be as pretty though as the gray," +etc., etc. By the above method of cud-chewing, any subject, clothes, +painting the house, children's school, planting a garden, or even the +weather, need be limited only by the supply of paper and ink. + + +=THE LETTER OF THE "CAPITAL I"= + +The letter of the "capital I" is a pompous effusion which strives through +pretentiousness to impress its reader with its writer's wealth, position, +ability, or whatever possession or attribute is thought to be rated most +highly. None but unfortunate dependents or the cringing in spirit would +subject themselves to a second letter of this kind by answering the first. +The letter which hints at hoped-for benefits is no worse! + + +=THE LETTER OF CHRONIC APOLOGY= + +The letter written by a person with an apologetic habit of mind, is +different totally from the sometimes necessary letter of genuine apology. +The former is as senseless as it is irritating: + +"It was so good of you to come to my horrid little shanty. [The house and +the food she served were both probably better than that of the person she +is writing to.] I know you had nothing fit to eat, and I know that +everything was just all wrong! Of course, everything is always so +beautifully done at everything you give, I wonder I have the courage to +ask you to dine with me." + + +=THE DANGEROUS LETTER= + +A pitfall that those of sharp wit have to guard against is the thoughtless +tendency toward writing ill-natured things. Ridicule is a much more +amusing medium for the display of a subject than praise, which is always +rather bromidic. The amusing person catches foibles and exploits them, and +it is easy to forget that wit flashes all too irresistibly at the expense +of other people's feelings, and the brilliant tongue is all too often +sharpened to rapier point. Admiration for the quickness of a spoken quip, +somewhat mitigates its cruelty. The exuberance of the retailer of verbal +gossip eliminates the implication of scandals but both quip and gossip +become deadly poison when transferred permanently to paper. + + +=PERMANENCE OF WRITTEN EMOTION= + +For all emotions written words are a bad medium. The light jesting tone +that saves a quip from offense can not be expressed; and remarks that if +spoken would amuse, can but pique and even insult their subject. Without +the interpretation of the voice, gaiety becomes levity, raillery becomes +accusation. Moreover, words of a passing moment are made to stand forever. + +Anger in a letter carries with it the effect of solidified fury; the words +spoken in reproof melt with the breath of the speaker once the cause is +forgiven. The written words on the page fix them for eternity. + +Love in a letter endures likewise forever. + +Admonitions from parents to their children may very properly be put on +paper--they are meant to endure, and be remembered, but momentary +annoyance should never be more than briefly expressed. There is no better +way of insuring his letters against being read than for a parent to get +into the habit of writing irritable or faultfinding letters to his +children. + + +=THE LETTERS OF TWO WIVES= + +Do you ever see a man look through a stack of mail, and notice that +suddenly his face lights up as he seizes a letter "from home"? He tears it +open eagerly, his mouth up-curving at the corners, as he lingers over +every word. You know, without being told, that the wife he had to leave +behind puts all the best she can devise and save for him into his life as +well as on paper! + +Do you ever see a man go through his mail and see him suddenly droop--as, +though a fog had fallen upon his spirits? Do you see him reluctantly pick +out a letter, start to open it, hesitate and then push it aside? His +expression says plainly: "I can't face that just now." Then by and by, +when his lips have been set in a hard line, he will doggedly open his +letter to "see what the trouble is now." + +If for once there is no trouble, he sighs with relief, relaxes, and starts +the next thing he has to do. + +Usually, though, he frowns, looks worried, annoyed, harassed, and you know +that every small unpleasantness is punctiliously served to him by one who +promised to love and to cherish and who probably thinks she does! + + +=THE LETTER EVERYONE LOVES TO RECEIVE= + +The letter we all love to receive is one that carries so much of the +writer's personality that she seems to be sitting beside us, looking at us +directly and talking just as she really would, could she have come on a +magic carpet, instead of sending her proxy in ink-made characters on mere +paper. + +Let us suppose we have received one of those perfect letters from Mary, +one of those letters that seem almost to have written themselves, so +easily do the words flow, so bubbling and effortless is their spontaneity. +There is a great deal in the letter about Mary, not only about what she +has been doing, but what she has been thinking, or perhaps, feeling. And +there is a lot about us in the letter--nice things, that make us feel +rather pleased about something that we have done, or are likely to do, or +that some one has said about us. We know that all things of concern to us +are of equal concern to Mary, and though there will be nothing of it in +actual words, we are made to feel that we are just as secure in our corner +of Mary's heart as ever we were. And we finish the letter with a very +vivid remembrance of Mary's sympathy, and a sense of loss in her absence, +and a longing for the time when Mary herself may again be sitting on the +sofa beside us and telling us all the details her letter can not but leave +out. + + +=THE LETTER NO WOMAN SHOULD EVER WRITE= + +The mails carry letters every day that are so many packages of TNT should +their contents be exploded by falling into wrong hands. Letters that +should never have been written are put in evidence in court rooms every +day. Many can not, under any circumstances, be excused; but often silly +girls and foolish women write things that sound quite different from what, +they innocently, but stupidly, intended. + +Few persons, except professional writers, have the least idea of the value +of words and the effect that they produce, and the thoughtless letters of +emotional women and underbred men add sensation to news items in the press +almost daily. + +Of course the best advice to a young girl who is impelled to write letters +to men, can be put in one word, _don't_! + +However, if you are a young girl or woman, and are determined to write +letters to an especial--or any other--man, no matter how innocent your +intention may be, there are some things you must remember--remember so +intensely that no situation in life, no circumstances, no temptation, can +ever make you forget. They are a few set rules, not of etiquette, but of +the laws of self-respect: + +Never send a letter without reading it over and making sure that you have +said nothing that can possibly "sound different" from what you intend to +say. + +Never so long as you live, write a letter to a man--no matter who he +is--that you would be ashamed to see in a newspaper above your signature. + +Remember that every word of writing is immutable evidence for or against +you, and words which are thoughtlessly put on paper may exist a hundred +years hence. + +Never write anything that can be construed as sentimental. + +Never take a man to task about anything; never ask for explanations; to do +so implies too great an intimacy. + +Never put a single clinging tentacle into writing. Say nothing ever, that +can be construed as demanding, asking, or even being eager for, his +attentions! + +Always keep in mind and _never for one instant forget_ that a third +person, and that the very one you would most object to, may find and read +the letter. + +One word more: It is not alone "bad form" but laying yourself open to +every sort of embarrassment and danger, to "correspond with" a man you +slightly know. + + +=PROPER LETTERS OF LOVE OR AFFECTION= + +If you are engaged, of course you should write love letters--the most +beautiful that you can--but don't write baby-talk and other sillinesses +that would make you feel idiotic if the letter were to fall into strange +hands. + +On the other hand, few can find objection to the natural, friendly and +even affectionate letter from a young girl to a young man she has been +"brought up" with. It is such a letter as she would write to her brother. +There is no hint of coquetry or self-consciousness, no word from first to +last that might not be shouted aloud before her whole family. Her letter +may begin "Dear" or even "Dearest Jack." Then follows all the "home news" +she can think of that might possibly interest him; about the Simpsons' +dance, Tom and Pauline's engagement, how many trout Bill Henderson got at +Duck Brook, how furious Mrs. Davis was because some distinguished visitor +accepted Mrs. Brown's dinner instead of hers, how the new people who have +moved onto the Rush farm don't know the first thing about farming, and so +on. + +Perhaps there will be one "personal" line such as "we all missed you at +the picnic on Wednesday--Ollie made the flap-jacks and they were too +awful! Every one groaned: 'If Jack were only here!'" Or, "we all hope you +are coming back in time for the Towns' dance. Kate has at last inveigled +her mother into letting her have an all-black dress which we rather +suspect was bought with the especial purpose of impressing you with her +advanced age and dignity! Mother came in just as I wrote this and says to +tell you she has a new recipe for chocolate cake that is even better than +her old one, and that you had better have a piece added to your belt +before you come home. Carrie will write you very soon, she says, and we +all send love. + + "Affectionately, + "Ruth." + + +=THE LETTER NO GENTLEMAN WRITES= + +One of the fundamental rules for the behavior of any man who has the +faintest pretension to being a gentleman, is that never by word or gesture +must he compromise a woman; he never, therefore, writes a letter that can +be construed, even by a lawyer, as damaging to any woman's good name. + +His letters to an unmarried woman may express all the ardor and devotion +that he cares to subscribe to, but there must be no hint of his having +received especial favors from her. + + +=DON'TS FOR CORRESPONDENCE= + +Never typewrite an invitation, acceptance, or regret. + +Never typewrite a social note. + +Be chary of underscorings and postscripts. + +Do not write across a page already written on. + +Do not use unmatched paper and envelopes. + +Do not write in pencil--except a note to one of your family written on a +train or where ink is unprocurable, or unless you are flat on your back +because of illness. + +Never send a letter with a blot on it. + +Never sprinkle French, Italian, or any other foreign words through a +letter written in English. You do not give an impression of cultivation, +but of ignorance of your own language. Use a foreign word if it has no +English equivalent, not otherwise unless it has become Anglicized. If +hesitating between two words, always select the one of Saxon origin rather +than Latin. For the best selection of words to use, study the King James +version of the Bible. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE FUNDAMENTALS OF GOOD BEHAVIOR + + +Far more important than any mere dictum of etiquette is the fundamental +code of honor, without strict observance of which no man, no matter how +"polished," can be considered a gentleman. The honor of a gentleman +demands the inviolability of his word, and the incorruptibility of his +principles; he is the descendant of the knight, the crusader; he is the +defender of the defenseless, and the champion of justice--or he is not a +gentleman. + + +=DECENCIES OF BEHAVIOR= + +A gentleman does not, and a man who aspires to be one must not, ever +borrow money from a woman, nor should he, except in unexpected +circumstances, borrow money from a man. Money borrowed without security is +a debt of honor which must be paid without fail and promptly as possible. +The debts incurred by a deceased parent, brother, sister, or grown child, +are assumed by honorable men and women, as debts of honor. + +A gentleman never takes advantage of a woman in a business dealing, nor of +the poor or the helpless. + +One who is not well off does not "sponge," but pays his own way to the +utmost of his ability. + +One who is rich does not make a display of his money or his possessions. +Only a vulgarian talks ceaselessly about how much this or that cost him. + +A very well-bred man intensely dislikes the mention of money, and never +speaks of it (out of business hours) if he can avoid it. + +A gentleman never discusses his family affairs either in public or with +acquaintances, nor does he speak more than casually about his wife. A man +is a cad who tells anyone, no matter who, what his wife told him in +confidence, or describes what she looks like in her bedroom. To impart +details of her beauty is scarcely better than to publish her blemishes; to +do either is unspeakable. + +Nor does a gentleman ever criticise the behavior of a wife whose conduct +is scandalous. What he says to her in the privacy of their own apartments +is no one's affair but his own, but he must never treat her with +disrespect before their children, or a servant, or any one. + +A man of honor never seeks publicly to divorce his wife, no matter what he +believes her conduct to have been; but for the protection of his own name, +and that of the children, he allows her to get her freedom on other than +criminal grounds. No matter who he may be, whether rich, or poor, in high +life or low, the man who publicly besmirches his wife's name, besmirches +still more his own, and proves that he is not, was not, and never will be, +a gentleman. + +No gentleman goes to a lady's house if he is affected by alcohol. A +gentleman seeing a young man who is not entirely himself in the presence +of ladies, quietly induces the youth to depart. An older man addicted to +the use of too much alcohol, need not be discussed, since he ceases to be +asked to the houses of ladies. + +A gentleman does not lose control of his temper. In fact, in his own +self-control under difficult or dangerous circumstances, lies his chief +ascendancy over others who impulsively betray every emotion which animates +them. Exhibitions of anger, fear, hatred, embarrassment, ardor or +hilarity, are all bad form in public. And bad form is merely an action +which "jars" the sensibilities of others. A gentleman does not show a +letter written by a lady, unless perhaps to a very intimate friend if the +letter is entirely impersonal and written by some one who is equally the +friend of the one to whom it is shown. But the occasions when the letter +of a woman may be shown properly by a man are so few that it is safest to +make it a rule never to mention a woman's letter. + +A gentleman does not bow to a lady from a club window; nor according to +good form should ladies ever be discussed in a man's club! + +A man whose social position is self-made is apt to be detected by his +continual cataloguing of prominent names. Mr. Parvenu invariably +interlards his conversation with, "When I was dining at the Bobo +Gilding's"; or even "at Lucy Gilding's," and quite often accentuates, in +his ignorance, those of rather second-rate, though conspicuous position. +"I was spending last week-end with the Richan Vulgars," or "My great +friends, the Gotta Crusts." When a so-called gentleman insists on +imparting information, interesting only to the Social Register, _shun +him_! + +The born gentleman avoids the mention of names exactly as he avoids the +mention of what things cost; both are an abomination to his soul. + +A gentleman's manners are an integral part of him and are the same whether +in his dressing-room or in a ballroom, whether in talking to Mrs. Worldly +or to the laundress bringing in his clothes. He whose manners are only put +on in company is a veneered gentleman, not a real one. + +A man of breeding does not slap strangers on the back nor so much as lay +his finger-tips on a lady. Nor does he punctuate his conversation by +pushing or nudging or patting people, nor take his conversation out of the +drawing-room! Notwithstanding the advertisements in the most dignified +magazines, a discussion of underwear and toilet articles and their merit +or their use, is unpleasant in polite conversation. + +All thoroughbred people are considerate of the feelings of others no +matter what the station of the others may be. Thackeray's climber who +"licks the boots of those above him and kicks the faces of those below him +on the social ladder," is a, very good illustration of what a gentleman is +not. + +A gentleman never takes advantage of another's helplessness or ignorance, +and assumes that no gentleman will take advantage of him. + + +=SIMPLICITY AND UNCONSCIOUSNESS OF SELF= + +These words have been literally sprinkled through the pages of this book, +yet it is doubtful if they convey a clear idea of the attributes meant. + +Unconsciousness of self is not so much unselfishness as it is the mental +ability to extinguish all thought of one's self--exactly as one turns out +the light. + +Simplicity is like it, in that it also has a quality of self-effacement, +but it really means a love of the essential and of directness. Simple +people put no trimmings on their phrases, nor on their manners; but +remember, simplicity is not crudeness nor anything like it. On the +contrary, simplicity of speech and manners means language in its purest, +most limpid form, and manners of such perfection that they do not suggest +"manner" at all. + + +=THE INSTINCTS OF A LADY= + +The instincts of a lady are much the same as those of a gentleman. She is +equally punctilious about her debts, equally averse to pressing her +advantage; especially if her adversary is helpless or poor. + +As an unhappy wife, her dignity demands that she never show her +disapproval of her husband, no matter how publicly he slights or outrages +her. If she has been so unfortunate as to have married a man not a +gentleman, to draw attention to his behavior would put herself on his +level. If it comes actually to the point where she divorces him, she +discusses her situation, naturally, with her parents or her brother or +whoever are her nearest and wisest relatives, but she shuns publicity and +avoids discussing her affairs with any one outside of her immediate +family. One can not too strongly censure the unspeakable vulgarity of the +woman so unfortunate as to be obliged to go through divorce proceedings, +who confides the private details of her life to reporters. + + +=THE HALL-MARK OF THE CLIMBER= + +Nothing so blatantly proclaims a woman climber as the repetition of +prominent names, the owners of which she must have struggled to know. +Otherwise, why so eagerly boast of the achievement? Nobody cares whom she +knows--nobody that is, but a climber like herself. To those who were born +and who live, no matter how quietly, in the security of a perfectly good +ledge above and away from the social ladder's rungs, the evidence of one +frantically climbing and trying to vaunt her exalted position is merely +ludicrous. + +All thoroughbred women, and men, are considerate of others less +fortunately placed, especially of those in their employ. One of the tests +by which to distinguish between the woman of breeding and the woman merely +of wealth, is to notice the way she speaks to dependents. Queen Victoria's +duchesses, those great ladies of grand manner, were the very ones who, on +entering the house of a close friend, said "How do you do, Hawkins?" to a +butler; and to a sister duchess's maid, "Good morning, Jenkins." A +Maryland lady, still living on the estate granted to her family three +generations before the Revolution, is quite as polite to her friends' +servants as to her friends themselves. When you see a woman in silks and +sables and diamonds speak to a little errand girl or a footman or a +scullery maid as though they were the dirt under her feet, you may be sure +of one thing; she hasn't come a very long way from the ground herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +CLUBS AND CLUB ETIQUETTE + + +A club, as every one knows, is merely an organization of people--men or +women or both--who establish club rooms, in which they meet at specified +times for specified purposes, or which they use casually and individually. +A club's membership may be limited to a dozen or may include several +thousands, and the procedure in joining a club may be easy or difficult, +according to the type of club and the standing of the would-be member. + +Membership in many athletic associations may be had by walking in and +paying dues; also many country golf-clubs are as free to the public as +country inns; but joining a purely social club of rank and exclusiveness +is a very different matter. A man to be eligible for membership in such a +club must not only be completely a gentleman, but he must have friends +among the members who like him enough to be willing to propose him and +second him and write letters for him; and furthermore he must be disliked +by no one--at least not sufficiently for any member to object seriously to +his company. + +There are two ways of joining a club; by invitation and by making +application or having it made for you. To join by invitation means that +you are invited when the club is started to be one of the founders or +charter members, or if you are a distinguished citizen you may at the +invitation of the governors become an honorary member, or in a small or +informal club you may become an ordinary member by invitation or +suggestion of the governors that you would be welcome. A charter member +pays dues, but not always an initiation fee; an honorary member pays +neither dues nor initiation, he is really a permanent guest of the club. A +life member is one who pays his dues for twenty years or so in a lump sum, +and is exempted from dues even if he lives to be a hundred. Few clubs +have honorary members and none have more than half a dozen, so that this +type of membership may as well be disregarded. + +The ordinary members of a club are either resident, meaning that they live +within fifty miles of the club; or non-resident, living beyond that +distance and paying less dues but having the same privileges. + +In certain of the London clubs, one or two New York ones, and the leading +club in several other cities, it is not unusual for a boy's name to be put +up for membership as soon as he is born. If his name comes up while he is +a minor, it is laid aside until after his twenty-first birthday and then +put at the head of the list of applicants and voted upon at the next +meeting of the governors. + +In all clubs in which membership is limited and much sought after, the +waiting list is sure to be long and a name takes anywhere from five to +more than ten years to come up. + + +=HOW A NAME IS "PUT UP"= + +Since a gentleman is scarcely likely to want to join a club in which the +members are not his friends, he tells a member of his family, or an +intimate friend, that he would like to join the Nearby Club, and adds, "Do +you mind putting me up? I will ask Dick to second me." The friend says, +"I'll be very glad to," and Dick says the same. It is still more likely +that the suggestion to join comes from a friend, who says one day, "Why +don't you join the Nearby Club? It would be very convenient for you." The +other says, "I think I should like to," and the first replies, "Let me put +you up, and Dick will be only too glad to second you." + +It must be remembered that a gentleman has no right to ask any one who is +not really one of his best friends to propose or second him. It is an +awkward thing to refuse in the first place, and in the second it involves +considerable effort, and on occasion a great deal of annoyance and +trouble. + +For example let us suppose that Jim Smartlington asks Donald Lovejoy to +propose him and Clubwin Doe to second him. His name is written in the book +kept for the purpose and signed by both proposer and seconder: + + Smartlington, James + Proposer: Donald Lovejoy + Seconder: Clubwin Doe + +Nothing more is done until the name is posted--meaning that it appears +among a list of names put up on the bulletin-board in the club house. It +is then the duty of Lovejoy and Doe each to write a letter of endorsement +to the governors of the club, to be read by them when they hold the +meeting at which his name comes up for election. + +Example: + + Board of Governors, + The Nearby Club. + + Dear sirs: + + It affords me much pleasure to propose for membership in the + Nearby Club Mr. James Smartlington. I have known Mr. Smartlington + for many years and consider him qualified in every way for + membership. + + He is a graduate of Yalvard, class 1916, rowed on the Varsity + crew, and served in the 180th, as 1st Lieut., overseas during the + war. He is now in his father's firm (Jones, Smartlington & Co.). + + Yours very truly, + Donald Lovejoy. + +Lovejoy must also at once tell Smartlington to ask about six friends who +are club-members (but not governors) to write letters endorsing him. +Furthermore, the candidate can not come up for election unless he knows +several of the governors personally, who can vouch for him at the +meeting. Therefore Lovejoy and Doe must one or the other take Smartlington +to several governors (at their offices generally) and personally present +him, or very likely they invite two or three of the governors and +Smartlington to lunch. + +Even under the best of circumstances it is a nuisance for a busy man to +have to make appointments at the offices of other busy men. And since it +is uncertain which of the governors will be present at any particular +meeting, it is necessary to introduce the candidate to a sufficient number +so that at least two among those at the meeting will be able to speak for +him. + +In the example we have chosen, Clubwin Doe, having himself been a governor +and knowing most of the present ones very well, has less difficulty in +presenting his candidate to them than many other members might have, who, +though they have for years belonged to the club, have used it so seldom +that they know few, if any, of the governors even by sight. + +At the leading woman's club of New York, the governors appoint an hour on +several afternoons before elections when they are in the visitors' rooms +at the club house on purpose to meet the candidates whom their proposers +must present. This would certainly seem a more practicable method, to say +nothing of its being easier for everyone concerned, than the masculine +etiquette which requires that the governors be stalked one by one, to the +extreme inconvenience and loss of time and occasionally the embarrassment +of every one. + +As already said, Jim Smartlington, having unusually popular and well-known +sponsors and being also very well liked himself, is elected with little +difficulty. + +But take the case of young Breezy: He was put up by two not well-known +members, who wrote half-hearted endorsements themselves and did nothing +about getting letters from others; they knew none of the governors, and +trusted that two who knew Breezy slightly "would do." His casual proposer +forgot that enemies write letters as well as friends--and that moreover +enmity is active where friendship is often passive. Two men who disliked +his "manner" wrote that they considered him "unsuitable," and as he had +no friends strong enough to stand up for him, he was turned down. A +gentleman is rarely "black-balled," as such an action could not fail to +injure him in the eyes of the world. (The expression "black ball" comes +from the custom of voting for a member by putting a white ball in a ballot +box, or against him by putting in a black one.) If a candidate is likely +to receive a black ball, the governors do not vote on him at all, but +inform the proposer that the name of his candidate would better be +withdrawn. Later on, if the objection to him is disproved or overcome, his +name can again be put up. + +The more popular the candidate, the less work there is for his proposer +and seconder. A stranger--if he is not a member of the representative club +in his own city--would have need of strong friends to elect him to an +exclusive one in another, and an unpopular man has no chance at all. + +However, in all except very rare instances events run smoothly; the +candidate is voted on at a meeting of the board of governors and is +elected. + +A notice is mailed to him next morning, telling him that he has been +elected and that his initiation fee and his dues make a total of so much. +The candidate thereupon at once draws his check for the amount and mails +it. As soon as the secretary has had ample time to receive the check, the +new member is free to use the club as much or as little as he cares to. + + +=THE NEW MEMBER= + +The new member usually, but not necessarily, goes for the first time to a +club with his proposer or his seconder, or at least an old member; for +since in exclusive clubs visitors living in the same city are never given +the privilege of the club, none but members can know their way about. Let +us say he goes for lunch or dinner, at which he is host, and his friend +imparts such unwritten information as: "That chair in the window is where +old Gotrox always sits; don't occupy it when you see him coming in or he +will be disagreeable to everybody for a week." Or "They always play double +stakes at this table, so don't sit at it, unless you _mean_ to." Or +"That's Double coming in now, avoid him at bridge as you would the +plague." "The roasts are always good and that waiter is the best in the +room," etc. + +A new member is given--or should ask for--a copy of the Club Book, which +contains besides the list of the members, the constitution and the by-laws +or "house rules," which he must study carefully and be sure to obey. + + +=COUNTRY CLUBS= + +Country clubs are as a rule less exclusive and less expensive than the +representative city clubs, but those like the Myopia Hunt, the Tuxedo, the +Saddle and Cycle, the Burlingame, and countless others in between, are +many of them more expensive to belong to than any clubs in London or New +York, and are precisely the same in matters of membership and management. +They are also quite as difficult to be elected to as any of the exclusive +clubs in the cities--more so if anything, because they are open to the +family and friends of every member, whereas in a man's club in a city his +membership gives the privilege of the club to no one but himself +personally. The test question always put by the governors at elections is: +"Are the candidate's friends as well as his family likely to be agreeable +to the present members of the Club?" If not, he is not admitted. + +Nearly all country clubs have, however, one open door--unknown to city +ones. People taking houses in the neighborhood are often granted "season +privileges"; meaning that on being proposed by a member and upon paying a +season subscription, new householders are accepted as transient guests. In +some clubs this season subscription may be indefinitely renewed; in others +a man must come up for regular election at the end of three months or six +or a year. + +Apart from what may be called the few representative and exclusive country +clubs, there are hundreds--more likely thousands--which have very simple +requirements for membership. The mere form of having one or two members +vouch for a candidate's integrity and good behavior is sufficient. + +Golf clubs, hunting clubs, political or sports clubs have special +membership qualifications; all good golf players are as a rule welcomed at +all golf clubs; all huntsmen at hunting clubs, and yet the Myopia would +not think of admitting the best rider ever known if he was not +unquestionably a gentleman. But this is unusual. As a rule, the great +player is welcomed in any club specially devoted to the sport in which he +excels. + +In many clubs a stranger may be given a three (sometimes it is six) +months' transient membership, available in some instances to foreigners +only; in others to strangers living beyond a certain distance. A name is +proposed and seconded by two members and then voted on by the governors, +or the house committee. + +The best known and most distinguished club of New England has an "Annex" +in which there are dining-rooms to which ladies as well as gentlemen who +are not members are admitted, and this annex plan has since been followed +by others elsewhere. + +All men's clubs have private dining-rooms in which members can give stag +dinners, but the representative men's clubs exclude ladies absolutely from +ever crossing their thresholds. + + +=WOMEN'S CLUBS= + +Excepting that the luxurious women's club has an atmosphere that a man +rarely knows how to give to the interior of a house, no matter how +architecturally perfect it may be, there is no difference between women's +and men's clubs. + +In every State of the Union there are women's clubs of every kind and +grade; social, political, sports, professional; some housed in enormous +and perfect buildings constructed for them, and some perhaps in only a +room or two. + +When the pioneer women's club of New York was started, a club that aspired +to be in the same class as the most important men's club, various +governors of the latter were unflatteringly outspoken; women could not +possibly run a club as it should be run--it was unthinkable that they +should be foolish enough to attempt it! And the husbands and fathers of +the founders expected to have to dig down in their pockets to make up the +deficit; forgetting entirely that the running of a club is merely the +running of a house on a large scale, and that women, not men, are the +perfect housekeepers. To-day, no clubs anywhere are more perfect in +appointment or better run than the representative women's clubs. In fact, +some of the men's clubs have been forced to follow the lead of the +foremost of them and to realize that a club in which members merely sit +about and look out of the window is a pretty dull place to the type of +younger members they most want to attract, and that the combination of the +comfort and smartness of a perfectly run private house with every +equipment for athletics, is becoming the ideal in club-life and +club-building to-day. + + +=GOOD MANNERS IN CLUBS= + +Good manners in clubs are the same as good manners elsewhere--only a +little more so. A club is for the pleasure and convenience of many; it is +never intended as a stage-setting for a "star" or "clown" or "monologist." +There is no place where a person has greater need of restraint and +consideration for the reserves of others than in a club. In every club +there is a reading-room or library where conversation is not allowed; +there are books and easy chairs and good light for reading both by day and +night; and it is one of the unbreakable rules not to speak to anybody who +is reading--or writing. + +When two people are sitting by themselves and talking, another should on +no account join them unless he is an intimate friend of both. To be a mere +acquaintance, or, still less, to have been introduced to one of them, +gives no privilege whatever. + +The fact of being a club member does not (except in a certain few +especially informal clubs) grant any one the right to speak to strangers. +If a new member happens to find no one in the club whom he knows, he goes +about his own affairs. He either sits down and reads or writes, or "looks +out of the window," or plays solitaire, or occupies himself as he would if +he were alone in a hotel. + +It is courteous of a governor or habitual member, on noticing a new member +or a visitor, especially one who seems to be rather at a loss--to go up +and speak to him, but the latter must on no account be the one to speak +first. Certain New York and Boston clubs, as well as those of London, have +earned a reputation for snobbishness because the members never speak to +those they do not know. Through no intent to be disagreeable, but just +because it is not customary, New York people do not speak to those they do +not know, and it does not occur to them that strangers feel slighted until +they themselves are given the same medicine in London; or going elsewhere +in America, they appreciate the courtesy and kindness of the South and +West. + +The fundamental rule for behavior in a club is the same as in the +drawing-room of a private house. In other words, heels have no place on +furniture, ashes belong in ash-receivers, books should not be abused, and +all evidence of exercising should be confined to the courts or courses and +the locker room. Many people who wouldn't think of lolling around the +house in unfit attire, come trooping into country clubs with their +steaming faces, clammy shirts, and rumpled hair, giving too awful evidence +of recent exertion, and present fitness for the bathtub. + + +=THE PERFECT CLUBMAN= + +The perfect clubman is another word for the perfect gentleman. He never +allows himself to show irritability to any one, he makes it a point to be +courteous to a new member or an old member's guest. He scrupulously +observes the rules of the club, he discharges his card debts at the +table, he pays his share always, with an instinctive horror of sponging, +and lastly, he treats everyone with the same consideration which he +expects--and demands--from them. + + +=THE INFORMAL CLUB= + +The informal club is often more suggestive of a fraternity than a club, in +that every member speaks to every other--always. In one of the best known +of this type, the members are artists, authors, scientists, sportsmen and +other thinkers and doers. There is a long table set every day for lunch at +which the members gather and talk, every one to every one else. There is +another dining-room where solitary members may sit by themselves or bring +in outsiders if they care to. None but members sit at the "round" table +which isn't "round" in the least! + +The informal club is always a comparatively small one, but the method of +electing members varies. In some, it is customary to take the vote of the +whole club, in others members are elected by the governors first, and then +asked to join. In this case no man may ask to have his name put up. In +others the conventional methods are followed. + + +=THE VISITORS IN A CLUB= + +In every club in the United States a member is allowed to "introduce" a +stranger (living at least fifty miles away) for a length of time varying +with the by-laws of the club. In some clubs guests may be put up for a day +only, in others the privilege extends for two weeks or more. + +Many clubs allow each member a certain number of visitors a year; in +others visitors are unlimited. But in all city clubs the same guest can +not be introduced twice within the year. In country clubs visitors may +always be brought in by members in unlimited numbers. + +As a rule when a member introduces a stranger, he takes him to the club +personally, writes his name in the visitors' book, and introduces him to +those who may be in the room at the time--very possibly asking another +member whom he knows particularly well to "look out" for his guest. If for +some reason it is not possible for the stranger's host to take him to the +club, he writes to the secretary of the club for a card of introduction. + +Example: + + + Secretary, + The Town Club. + + Dear Sir: + + Kindly send Mr. A.M. Strangleigh a card extending the privileges + of the Club for one week. + + Mr. Strangleigh is a resident of London. + + Yours very truly, + Clubwin Doe. + + +The secretary then sends a card to Mr. Strangleigh: + + The Town Club + + Extends its privileges to + + Mr. [HW: Strangleigh] + + from [HW: Jan. 7.] to [HW: Jan. 14.] + + Through the courtesy of + + Mr. [HW: Clubwin Doe] + +Mr. Strangleigh goes to the club by himself. A visitor who has been given +the privileges of the club has, during the time of his visit, all the +rights of a member excepting that he is not allowed to introduce others to +the club, and he can not give a dinner in the private dining-room. Strict +etiquette also demands, if he wishes to ask several members to dine with +him, that he take them to a restaurant rather than into the club +dining-room, since the club is their home and he is a stranger in it. He +may ask a member whom he knows well to lunch with him in the club rooms, +but he must not ask one whom he knows only slightly. As accounts are sent +to the member who put him up--unless the guest arranges at the club's +office to have his charges rendered to himself, he must be punctilious to +ask for his bill upon leaving, and pay it _without question_. + +Putting a man up at a club never means that the member is "host." The +visitor's status throughout his stay is founded on the courtesy of the +member who introduced him, and he should try to show an equal courtesy to +every one about him. He should remember not to obtrude on the privacy of +the members he does not know. He has no right to criticise the management, +the rules or the organization of the club. He has, in short, no actual +rights at all, and he must not forget that he hasn't! + + +=CLUB ETIQUETTE IN LONDON, PARIS AND NEW YORK= + +"In a very smart London club" (the words quoted are Clubwin Doe's) "you +keep your hat on and glare about! In Paris you take your hat off and +behave with such courtesy and politeness as seems to you an affectation. +In New York you take your hat off and behave as though the rooms were +empty; but as though you were being observed through loop-holes in the +walls." + +In New York you are introduced occasionally, but you may never ask to be +introduced, and you speak only to those you have been introduced to. In +London, you are never introduced to any one, but if the member who has +taken you with him joins a group and you all sit down together, you talk +as you would after dinner in a gentleman's house. But if you are made a +temporary member and meet those you have been talking to when you are +alone the next day, you do not speak unless spoken to. In Paris, your host +punctiliously introduces you to various members and you must just as +punctiliously go the next day to their houses and leave your card upon +each one! This is customary in the strictly French clubs only. In any one +which has members of other nationalities--especially with Americans +predominating, or seeming to, American customs obtain. In French clubs a +visitor can not go to the club unless he is with a member, but there are +no restrictions on the number of times he may be taken by the same member +or another one. + + +=UNBREAKABLE RULES= + +Failure to pay one's debts, or behavior unbefitting a gentleman, is cause +for expulsion from every club; which is looked upon in much the same light +as expulsion from the Army. In certain cases expulsion for debt may seem +unfair, since one may find himself in unexpectedly straitened +circumstances, and the greatest fault or crime could not be more severely +dealt with than being expelled from his club; but "club honor"--except +under very temporary and mitigating conditions--takes no account of any +reason for being "unable" to meet his obligations. He _must_--or he is not +considered honorable. + +If a man can not afford to belong to a club he must resign while he is +still "in good standing." If later on he is able to rejoin, his name is +put at the head of the waiting list, and if he was considered a desirable +member, he is re-elected at the next meeting of the governors. But a man +who has been expelled (unless he can show cause why his expulsion was +unjust and be re-instated) can never again belong to that, or be elected +to any other, club. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +GAMES AND SPORTS + + +The popularity of bridge whist began a quarter of a century ago with the +older people and has increased slowly but steadily until it is scarcely an +exaggeration to say that those who do not play bridge, which means +"auction," are seldom asked out. And the epidemic is just as widespread +among girls and boys as among older people. Bridge is always taken +seriously; a bumble puppy game won't do at all, even among the youngest +players, and other qualifications of character and of etiquette must be +observed by every one who would be sought after to "make up a four." + + +=PEOPLE CHARMING TO PLAY BRIDGE WITH= + +That no one likes a poor partner--or even a poor opponent--goes without +saying. + +The ideal partner is one who never criticises or even seems to be aware of +your mistakes, but on the contrary recognizes a good maneuver on your +part, and gives you credit for it whether you win the hand or lose; +whereas the inferior player is apt to judge you merely by what you win, +and blame your "make" if you "go down," though your play may have been +exceptionally good and the loss even occasioned by wrong information which +he himself gave you. Also, to be continually found fault with makes you +play your worst; whereas appreciation of good judgment on your part acts +as a tonic and you play seemingly "better than you know how." + + +=PEOPLE DISLIKED AT THE BRIDGE TABLE= + +There is nothing which more quickly reveals the veneered gentleman than +the card table, and his veneer melts equally with success or failure. +Being carried away by the game, he forgets to keep on his company polish, +and if he wins, he becomes grasping or overbearing, because of his +"skill"; if he loses he sneers at the "luck" of others and seeks to +justify himself for the same fault that he criticised a moment before in +another. + +A trick that is annoying to moderately skilled players, is to have an +over-confident opponent throw down his hand saying: "The rest of the +tricks are mine!" and often succeed in "putting it over," when it is quite +possible that they might not be his if the hand were played out. Knowing +themselves to be poorer players, the others are apt not to question it, +but they feel none the less that their "rights" have been taken from them. + +A rather trying partner is the nervous player, who has no confidence in +his own judgment and will invariably pass a good hand in favor of his +partner's bid. If, for instance, he has six perfectly good diamonds, he +doesn't mention them because, his partner having declared a heart, he +thinks to himself "Her hearts must be better than my diamonds." But a much +more serious failing--and one that is far more universal--is the habit of +overbidding. + + +=OVERBIDDING= + +In poker you play alone and can therefore play as carefully or as +foolishly as you please, but in bridge your partner has to suffer with +you, and you therefore are in honor bound to play the best you know +how--and the best you know how is as far as can possibly be from +overbidding. + +Remember that your partner, if he is a good player, counts on you for +certain definite cards that you announce by your bid to be in your hand, +and raises you accordingly. If you have not these cards you not only lose +that particular hand, but destroy his confidence in you, and the next time +when he has a legitimate raise for you, he will fail to give it. He +disregards you entirely because he is afraid of you! You _must study the +rules for makes_ and _never under any circumstances give your partner +misinformation_; this is the most vital rule there is, and any one who +disregards it is detested at the bridge table. No matter how great the +temptation to make a gambler's bid, you are in honor bound to refrain. + +The next essential, if you would be thought "charming," is never to take +your partner to task no matter how stupidly he may have "thrown the hand." + + +=DON'TS FOR THOSE WHO WOULD BE SOUGHT AFTER= + +Don't hold a "post-mortem" on anybody's delinquencies (unless you are +actually teaching). + +If luck is against you, it will avail nothing to sulk or complain about +the "awful" cards you are holding. Your partner is suffering just as much +in finding you a "poison vine" as you are in being one--and you can +scarcely expect your opponents to be sympathetic. You must learn to look +perfectly tranquil and cheerful even though you hold nothing but +yarboroughs for days on end, and you must on no account try to defend your +own bad play--ever. When you have made a play of poor judgment, the best +thing you can say is, "I'm very sorry, partner," and let it go at that. + +Always pay close attention to the game. When you are dummy you have +certain duties to your partner, and so do not wander around the room until +the hand is over. If you don't know what your duties are, read the rules +until you know them by heart and then--begin all over again! It is +impossible to play any game without a thorough knowledge of the laws that +govern it, and you are at fault in making the attempt. + +Don't be offended if your partner takes you out of a bid, and don't take +him out for the glory of playing the hand. He is quite as anxious to win +the rubber as you are. It is unbelievable how many people regard their +partner as a third opponent. + + +=MANNERISMS AT THE CARD TABLE= + +Mannerisms must be avoided like the plague. If there is one thing worse +than the horrible "post-mortem," it is the incessant repetition of some +jarring habit by one particular player. The most usual and most offensive +is that of snapping down a card as played, or bending a "trick" one has +taken into a letter "U," or picking it up and trotting it up and down on +the table. + +Other pet offenses are drumming on the table with one's fingers, making +various clicking, whistling, or humming sounds, massaging one's face, +scratching one's chin with the cards, or waving the card one is going to +play aloft in the air in Smart Alec fashion as though shouting, "I know +what you are going to lead! And my card is ready!" All mannerisms that +attract attention are in the long run equally unpleasant--even unendurable +to one's companions. + +Many people whose game is otherwise admirable are rarely asked to play +because they have allowed some such silly and annoying habit to take its +hold upon them. + + +=THE GOOD LOSER= + +The good loser makes it an invariable rule never to play for stakes that +it will be inconvenient to lose. The neglect of this rule has been +responsible for more "bad losers" than anything else, and needless to say +a bad loser is about as welcome at a card table as rain at a picnic. + +Of course there _are_ people who can take losses beyond their means with +perfect cheerfulness and composure. Some few are so imbued with the +gambler's instinct that a heavy turn of luck, in either direction, is the +salt of life. But the average person is equally embarrassed in winning or +losing a stake "that matters" and the only answer is to play for one that +doesn't. + + +=GOLF= + +Golf is a particularly severe strain upon the amiability of the average +person's temper, and in no other game, except bridge, is serenity of +disposition so essential. No one easily "ruffled" can keep a clear eye on +the ball, and exasperation at "lost balls" seemingly bewitches successive +ones into disappearing with the completeness and finality of puffs of +smoke. In a race or other test of endurance a flare of anger might even +help, but in golf it is safe to say that he who loses his temper is pretty +sure to lose the game. + +Golf players of course know the rules and observe them, but it quite often +happens that idlers, having nothing better to do, walk out over a course +and "watch the players." If they know the players well, that is one thing, +but they have no right to follow strangers. A player who is nervous is +easily put off his game, especially if those watching him are so ill-bred +as to make audible remarks. Those playing matches of course expect an +audience, and erratic and nervous players ought not to go into +tournaments--or at least not in two-ball foursomes where they are likely +to handicap a partner. + +In following a match, onlookers must be careful to stand well within +bounds and neither talk nor laugh nor do anything that can possibly +distract the attention of the players. + +The rule that you should not appoint yourself mentor holds good in golf as +well as in bridge and every other game. Unless your advice is asked for, +you should not instruct others how to hold their clubs or which ones to +use, or how they ought to make the shot. + +A young woman must on no account expect the man she happens to be playing +with to make her presents of golf-balls, or to caddy for her, nor must she +allow him to provide her with a caddy. If she can't afford to hire one of +her own, she must either carry her own clubs or not play golf. + + +=OTHER GAMES AND SPORTS= + +There are fixed rules for the playing of every game--and for proper +conduct in every sport. The details of these rules must be studied in the +"books of the game," learned from instructors, or acquired by experience. +A small boy perhaps learns to fish or swim by himself, but he is taught by +his father or a guide--at all events, some one--how and how not to hold a +gun, cast a fly, or ride a horse. But apart from the technique of each +sport, or the rules of each game, the etiquette--or more correctly, the +basic principles of good sportsmanship, are the same. + +In no sport or game can any favoritism or evasion of rules be allowed. +Sport is based upon impersonal and indiscriminating fairness to every one +alike, or it is not "sport." + +And to _be_ a good sportsman, one must be a stoic and never show rancor in +defeat, or triumph in victory, or irritation, no matter what annoyance is +encountered. One who can not help sulking, or explaining, or protesting +when the loser, or exulting when the winner, has no right to take part in +games and contests. + + +="PLAYING THE GAME"= + +If you would be thought to play the game, meaning if you aspire to be a +true sportsman, you must follow the rules of sportsmanship the world over: + +Never lose your temper. + +Play for the sake of playing rather than to win. + +Never stop in the middle of a tennis or golf match and complain of a lame +ankle, especially if you are losing. Unless it is literally impossible for +you to go on, you must stick it out. + +If you are a novice, don't ask an expert to play with you, especially as +your partner. If he should ask you in spite of your shortcomings, maintain +the humility proper to a beginner. + +If you are a woman, don't ape the ways and clothing of men. If you are a +man, don't take advantage of your superior strength to set a pace beyond +the endurance of a woman opponent. + +And always give the opponent the benefit of the doubt! Nothing is more +important to your standing as a sportsman, though it costs you the +particular point in question. + +A true sportsman is always a cheerful loser, a quiet winner, with a very +frank appreciation of the admirable traits in others, which he seeks to +emulate, and his own shortcomings, which he tries to improve. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +ETIQUETTE IN BUSINESS AND POLITICS + + +A certain rich man whose appointment to a foreign post of importance was +about to be ratified, came into the corridor of a Washington hotel and +stopped to speak with a lady for a few moments. During the whole +conversation he kept his hat on his head and a cigar in the corner of his +mouth. It happened that the lady was the wife of a prominent senator, and +she lost no time in reporting the incident to her husband, who in turn +brought the matter to the attention of certain of his colleagues with the +result that the appointment did not go through. + +It is not unlikely that this man thinks "politics played against him," +whereas the only factor against him was his exhibition of ill-breeding +which proved him unsuitable to represent the dignity of his country. + +Etiquette would not seem to play an important part in business, and yet no +man can ever tell when its knowledge may be of advantage, or its lack may +turn the scale against him. The man who remains "planted" in his chair +when a lady (or an older man) speaks to him, who receives customers in his +shirt sleeves, who does not take off his hat when talking with a lady and +take his cigar out of his mouth when bowing or when addressing her, can +never be sure that he is not preparing a witness for the prosecution. + + +=ETIQUETTE IN SMOKING= + +The above does not mean that a gentleman may never smoke in the presence +of ladies--especially in the presence of those who smoke themselves--but a +gentleman should not smoke under the following circumstances: + +When walking on the street with a lady. + +When lifting his hat or bowing. + +In a room, an office, or an elevator, when a lady enters. + +In any short conversation where he is standing near, or talking with a +lady. + +If he is seated himself for a conversation with a lady on a veranda, in an +hotel, in a private house, anywhere where "smoking is permitted," he first +asks, "Do you mind if I smoke?" And if she replies, "Not at all" or "Do, +by all means," it is then proper for him to do so. He should, however, +take his cigar, pipe, or cigarette, out of his mouth while he is speaking. +One who is very adroit can say a word or two without an unpleasant +grimace, but one should not talk with one's mouth either full of food or +barricaded with tobacco. + +In the country, a gentleman may walk with a lady and smoke at the same +time--especially a pipe or cigarette. Why a cigar is less admissible is +hard to determine, unless a pipe somehow belongs to the country. A +gentleman in golf or country clothes with a pipe in his mouth and a dog at +his heels suggests a picture fitting to the scene; while a cigar seems as +out of place as a cutaway coat. A pipe on the street in a city, on the +other hand, is less appropriate than a cigar in the country. In any event +he will, of course, ask his companion's permission to smoke. + + +=MANNERS AND BUSINESS= + +If you had a commission to give and you entered a man's office and found +him lolling back in a tipped swivel chair, his feet above his head, the +ubiquitous cigar in his mouth and his drowsy attention fixed on the +sporting page of the newspaper, you would be impressed not so much by his +lack of good manners as by his bad business policy, because of the +incompetence that his attitude suggests. It is scarcely necessary to ask: +Would you give an important commission to him who has no apparent +intention of doing anything but "take his ease"; or to him who is found +occupied at his desk, who gets up with alacrity upon your entrance, and is +seemingly "on his toes" mentally as well as actually? Or, would you go in +preference to a man whose manners resemble those of a bear at the Zoo, if +you could go to another whose business ability is supplemented by +personal charm? And this again is merely an illustration of bad manners +and good. + + +=AN ADVANTAGE OF POLISH= + +One advantage of polish is that one's opponent can never tell what is +going on under the glazed surface of highly finished manners, whereas an +unfinished surface is all too easily penetrated. And since business +encounters are often played like poker hands, it is surely a bad plan to +be playing with a mind-reader who can plainly divine his opponent's cards, +while his own are unrevealed. + +Manners that can by any possibility be construed as mincing, foppish or +effeminate are _not_ recommended; but a gentleman who says "Good morning" +to his employees and who invariably treats all women as "ladies," does not +half so much flatter their vanity as win their respect for himself as a +gentleman. Again, good manners are, after all, nothing but courteous +consideration of other people's interests and feelings. That being true, +does it not follow that all customers, superior officers and employees +prefer an executive whose good manners imply consideration of his +customer's, his company's and his employee's interest as well as merely +his own? + + +=PERFECT POLISH THAT IS UNSUSPECTED= + +The president of a great industry, whose mastery of etiquette is one of +his chief assets, so submerges this asset in other and more apparent +qualifications, that every plain man he comes in contact with takes it for +granted that he is an equally "plain" man himself. He _is_ plain in so far +as he is straightforward in attitude and simple in manner. No red tape is +required apparently to penetrate into this president's private office, +whereas many "small" men are guarded with pretentiousness that is often an +effort to give an impression of "importance." + +In this big man's employ there is an especial assistant chosen purposely +because of his tact and good manners. If an unknown person asks to see +Mr. President, this deputy is sent out (as from most offices) to find out +what the visitor's business is; but instead of being told bluntly the boss +doesn't know him and can't see him, the visitor is made to feel how much +the president will regret not seeing him. Perhaps he is told, "Mr. +President is in conference just now. I know he would not like you to be +kept waiting; can I be of any service to you? I am his junior assistant." +If the visitor's business is really with the president, he is admitted to +the chief executive's office, since it is the latter's policy to see every +one that he can. + +He has a courteous manner that makes every one feel there is nothing in +the day's work half so important as what his visitor has come to see him +about! Nor is this manner insincere; for whatever time one sees him, he +gives his undivided attention. Should his time be short, and the moment +approach when he is due at an appointment, his secretary enters, a +purposely arranged ten minutes ahead of the time necessary for the close +of the present interview, and apologetically reminds him, "I'm sorry, Mr. +President, but your appointment with the 'Z' committee is due." Mr. +President with seeming unconcern, uses up most of the ten minutes, and his +lingering close of the conversation gives his visitor the impression that +he must have been late at his appointment, and wholly because of the +unusual interest felt in his caller. + +This is neither sincerity nor insincerity, but merely bringing social +knowledge into business dealing. To make a pleasant and friendly +impression is not alone good manners, but equally good business. The crude +man would undoubtedly show his eagerness to be rid of his visitor, and +after offending the latter's self-pride because of his inattentive +discourtesy, be late for his own appointment! The man of skill saw his +visitor for fewer actual minutes, but gave the impression that +circumstances over which he had no control forced him unwillingly to close +the interview. He not only gained the good will of his visitor, but +arrived at his own appointment in plenty of time. + +To listen attentively when one is spoken to, is merely one of the rules +of etiquette. The man who, while some one is talking to him, gazes out of +the window or up at the ceiling, who draws squares and circles on the +blotter, or is engrossed in his finger-nails or his shoes, may in his own +mind be "finessing," or very likely he is bored! In the first case, the +chances are he will lose the game; in the second, lots of people are +bored, hideously bored, and most often the fault is their own; always they +are at fault who show it. + + +=GOOD MANNERS AND "GOOD MIXERS"= + +When one thinks of a man who is known in politics and business as a "good +mixer," one is apt to think of him as a rough diamond rather than a +polished one. In picturing a gentleman, a man of high cultivation, one +instinctively thinks of one who is somewhat aloof and apart. A good mixer +among uncouth men may quite accurately be one who is also uncouth; but the +best "mixer" of all is one who adjusts himself equally well to finer as +well as to plainer society. Education that does not confer flexibility of +mind is an obviously limited education; the man of broadest education +tunes himself in unison with whomever he happens to be. The more subjects +he knows about, the more people he is in sympathy with, and therefore the +more customers or associates or constituents he is sure to have. + +The really big man--it makes little difference whether he was born with a +gold spoon in his mouth or no spoon at all--is always one whose interest +in people, things, and events is a stimulating influence upon all those he +comes in contact with. + +He who says, "That does not interest me," or "That bores me," defines his +own limitations. He who is unable to project sympathy into other problems +or classes than his own is an unimportant person though he have the birth +of a Cecil and the manners of a Chesterfield. Every gentleman has an +inalienable right to his own reserves--that goes without saying--and +because he can project sympathy and understanding where and when he +chooses, does not for one moment mean that he thereby should break down +the walls of his instinctive defenses. + +It is not the latter type, but the "Gentleman Limited" who has belittled +the name of "gentleman" in the world of work; not so much because he is a +gentleman, as because he is not entirely one. He who is every inch a +gentleman as well as every inch a man is the highest type in the world +to-day, just as he has always been. The do-nothing gentleman is equally +looked down upon everywhere. + + +=ETIQUETTE IN "REVERSE GEAR"= + +Etiquette, remember, is merely a collection of forms by which all personal +contacts in life are made smooth. The necessity for a "rough" man to +become polished so that he may meet men of cultivation on an equal +footing, has an equally important reverse. The time has gone by when a +gentleman by grace of God, which placed him in a high-born position, can +control numbers of other men placed beneath him. Every man takes his place +to-day according to born position plus the test of his own experience. And +just as an unlettered expert in business is only half authoritative to men +of high cultivation, so also is the gentleman, no matter how much he knows +of Latin, Greek, history, art and polish of manner, handicapped according +to his ignorance on the subject of another's expertness. Etiquette, in +reverse, prescribes this necessity for complete knowledge in every contact +in life. Through knowledge alone, does one prove one's right to authority. +For instance: + +A man in a machine ship is working at a lathe. An officer of the company +comes into the shop, a gentleman in white collar and good clothes! He +stands behind the mechanic and "curses him out" because his work is +inefficient. When he turns away, the man at the lathe says, "Who was that +guy anyway? What business has he to teach me my job?" Instead of accepting +the criticism, he resents what he considers unwarranted interference by a +man in another "class." + +But supposing instead of standing by and talking about inefficiency, the +"gentleman" had said, "Get out of there a moment!" and throwing off his +coat and rolling up his silk shirt sleeves, he had operated the lathe with +a smoothness and rapidity that could only have been acquired through long +experience at a bench. The result would be that the next time he came on a +tour of inspection that particular man (as well as all those who were +witnesses of the former scene) would not only listen to him with respect +but without resentment of his "class," because his expertness proved that +he had earned his right to good clothes and silk shirts, and to tell those +beneath him how work should be done. + +The same test applies to any branch of experience: a man who knows as much +about any "specialty" as an expert does himself, makes the "expert" think +at once, "This man is a wonder!" The very fact that the first man is not +making the subject _his_ specialty, intensifies the achievement. +Everything he says after that on subjects of which the second man knows +nothing is accepted without question. Whenever you know as much as the +other man, whether you are socially above, or below him, you are on that +subject his equal; when you know more than he does, you have the +advantage. + + +=THE SELF-MADE MAN AND WORLD-MADE MANNERS= + +It is not in order to shine in society that grace of manner is an asset; +comparatively few people in a community care a rap about "society" anyway! +A man of affairs whose life is spent in doing a man's work in a man's way +is not apt to be thrilled at the thought of putting on "glad" clothes and +going out with his wife to a "pink" tea or a ball. + +But what many successful men do not realize is that a fundamental +knowledge of etiquette is no less an asset in business or public life, or +in any other contact with people, than it is in society. + +Just as any expert, whether at a machine bench, an accountant's desk, or +at golf, gives an impression of such ease as to make his accomplishment +seemingly require no skill, a bungler makes himself and every one watching +him uneasy if not actually fearful of his awkwardness. And as inexpertness +is quite as irritating in personal as in mechanical bungling, so there is +scarcely any one who sooner or later does not feel the need of social +expertness. Something, some day, will awaken him to the folly of scorning +as "soft," men who have accomplished manners; despising as "effeminate," +youths who have physical grace; of being contemptuous of the perfect +English of the well-bred gentleman; of consoling himself with the thought +that his own crudeness is strong, and manly, and American! + + +=THE "X" MARKERS= + +But let "success" come to this same inexpert man--let him be appointed to +high office, let him then shuffle from foot to foot, never knowing what to +do or say, let him meet open derision or ill-concealed contempt from every +educated person brought in contact with him, let opprobrium fall upon his +State because its governor is a boor, and let him as such be written of in +the editorials of the press and in the archives of history! Will he be so +pleased with himself then? Does any one think of Theodore Roosevelt as +"soft" or "effeminate" because he was one of the greatest masters of +etiquette who ever bore the most exalted honor that can be awarded by the +people of the United States? Washington was completely a gentleman--and so +was Abraham Lincoln. Because Lincoln's etiquette was self-taught it was no +less masterly for that! Whether he happened to know a lot of trifling +details of pseudo etiquette matters not in the least. Awkward he may have +been, but the essence of him was courtesy--unfailing courtesy. No "rough, +uneducated" man has command of perfect English, and Lincoln's English is +supreme. + +One thing that some Men of Might forget is that lack of polish in its +wider aspects is merely lack of education. They themselves look down upon +a man who has to make an "X" mark in place of signing his name--but they +overlook entirely that to those more highly educated, they are themselves +in degree quite as ignorant. + + +=SONS OF SELF-MADE MEN= + +And yet, speak to self-made men of the need of the social graces for their +sons, and nine out of ten stampede--for all the world as though it were +suggested to put them in petticoats. Do they think a poor unlettered lout +who shambles at the door, who stands unable to speak, who turns his cap in +his hands, who sidles into the room, and can't for the life of him get out +again, well trained for the battle of life? + +Picture that Mr. Strong Man who thrusts his thumbs into his armholes and +sits tipped back in his chair with a cigar in the corner of his mouth and +his heels comfortably reposing on his solid mahogany desk. This is not in +criticism of his relaxation, it is his own desk and certainly he has a +right to put his heels on it if he wants to; likewise thumbs and armholes +are his own. It is merely a picture that leads to another: Supposing a +very great man comes into Mr. Strong Man's office--one whom he may +consider a great man, a president perhaps of a big industry or of a +railroad, or a senator--and shortly afterwards, Strong Man's own son comes +into the room. Would he like to see his son abashed, awkward, +spasmodically jerky, like the poor bumpkin who came the other day to ask +about removing the ashes, or worse yet, bold and boisterous or cheeky; or +would he like that boy of his to come forward with an entire lack of +self-consciousness, and as his father introduces him as "My Son!" have him +put out his hand in frank and easy and yet deferential friendliness? And +then saying quickly and quietly whatever it was he came to say, as quickly +and quietly make his way out again? Would he be sorry that the big man +thought, "Fine boy that! Ability too!" Why would he think he had ability? +Because the ease and dexterity with which he handled the social incident +automatically suggests ability to handle other situations! + + +=ETIQUETTE AND BUSINESS AUTHORITY= + +Another point: Does the self-made man stop to realize that his authority +in business would be even greater than it is if he had the hall-marks, of +cultivation? For instance, when he comes in contact with college graduates +and other cultivated men, his opinions gain or lose in weight exactly in +proportion as he proves to be in their own "class" or below it. + +A man unconsciously judges the authority of others by the standard of his +own expert knowledge. A crude man may be a genius in business management, +but in the unspoken opinion of men of education, he is in other contacts +inferior to themselves. He is an authority they grant, but in limited +lines only. + +But when a man is met with who combines with business genius the advantage +of polished manners and evident cultivation, his opinion on any subject +broached at once assumes added weight. Doesn't it? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +DRESS + + +Clothes are to us what fur and feathers are to beasts and birds; they not +only add to our appearance, but they are our appearance. How we look to +others entirely depends upon what we wear and how we wear it; manners and +speech are noted afterward, and character last of all. + +In the community where we live, admirableness of character is the +fundamental essential, and in order to achieve a position of importance, +personality is also essential; but for the transient impression that we +make at home, abroad, everywhere in public, two superficial attributes are +alone indispensable: good manners and a pleasing appearance. + +It is not merely a question of vanity and inclination. In New York, for +instance, a woman must dress well, to pay her way. In Europe, where the +title of Duchess serves in lieu of a court train of gold brocade; or in +Bohemian circles where talent alone may count; or in small communities +where people are known for what they really are, appearance is of esthetic +rather than essential importance. + +In the world of smart society--in America at any rate--clothes not only +represent our ticket of admission, but our contribution to the effect of a +party. What makes a brilliant party? Clothes. Good clothes. A frumpy party +is nothing more nor less than a collection of badly dressed persons. +People with all the brains, even all the beauty imaginable, make an +assemblage of dowds, unless they are well dressed. + +Not even the most beautiful ballroom in the world, decorated like the +Garden of Eden, could in itself suggest a brilliant entertainment, if the +majority of those who filled it were frumps--or worse yet, vulgarians! +Rather be frumpy than vulgar! Much. Frumps are often celebrities in +disguise--but a person of vulgar appearance is vulgar all through. + + +=THE SHEEP= + +Frumps are not very typical of America, vulgarians are somewhat more +numerous, but the greatest number of all are the quietly dressed, +unnoticeable men and women who make up the representative backbone in +every city; who buy good clothes but not more than they need, and whose +ambition is merely to be well enough dressed to fit in with their +background, whatever their background may be. + +Less numerous, but far more conspicuous, are the dressed-to-the-minute +women who, like sheep exactly, follow every turn of latest fashion blindly +and without the slightest sense of distance or direction. As each new +season's fashion is defined, all the sheep run and dress themselves each +in a replica of the other, their own types and personalities have nothing +to do with the case. Fashion says: "Wear bolster cases tied at the neck +and ankle," or "A few wisps of gauze held in place with court plaster," +and daughter, mother, grandmother, and all the neighbors wear the same. If +emerald green is the fashionable color, all of the yellowest skins will be +framed in it. When hobble skirts are the thing, the fattest wabble along, +looking for all the world like chandeliers tied up in mosquito netting. If +ball dresses are cut to the last limit of daring, the ample billows of the +fat will vie blandly with the marvels of anatomy exhibited by the thin. +Comfort, convenience, becomingness, adaptability, beauty are of no +importance. Fashion is followed to the letter--therefore they fancy, poor +sheep, they are the last word in smartness. Those whom the fashion suits +_are_ "smart," but they are seldom, if ever, distinguished, because--they +are all precisely alike. + + +=THE WOMAN WHO IS REALLY CHIC= + +The woman who is chic is always a little different. Not different in being +behind fashion, but always slightly apart from it. "Chic" is a borrowed +adjective, but there is no English word to take the place of "elegant" +which was destroyed utterly by the reporter or practical joker who said +"elegant dresses," and yet there is no synonym that will express the +individuality of beautiful taste combined with personal dignity and grace +which gives to a perfect costume an inimitable air of distinction. _Une +dame elegante_ is all of that! And Mrs. Oldname is just such a person. She +follows fashion merely so far as is absolutely necessary. She gets the +latest model perhaps, but has it adapted to her own type, so that she has +just that distinction of appearance that the sheep lack. She has even +clung with slight modifications to the "Worth" ball dress, and her +"wrapped" or fitted bodice has continued to look the smartest in every +ballroom in spite of the Greek drapery and one-piece meal bag and all the +other kaleidoscopic changes of fashion the rest of us have been through. + +But the average would-be independent who determines to stand her ground, +saying, "These new models are preposterous! I shall wear nothing of the +sort!" and keeps her word, soon finds herself not at all an example of +dignity but an object of derision. + + +=FASHION HAS LITTLE IN COMMON WITH BEAUTY= + +Fashion ought to be likened to a tide or epidemic; sometimes one might +define it as a sort of hypnotism, seemingly exerted by the gods as a joke. +Fashion has the power to appear temporarily in the guise of beauty, though +it is the antithesis of beauty nearly always. If you doubt it, look at old +fashion plates. Even the woman of beautiful taste succumbs occasionally to +the epidemics of fashion, but she is more immune than most. All women who +have any clothes sense whatever know more or less the type of things that +are their style--unless they have such an attack of fashionitis as to be +irresponsibly delirious. + +To describe any details of dress, that will not be as "queer" to-morrow as +to-day's fashions are bound to be, would seem at the outset pretty much +like writing about next year's weather. And yet, there is one unchanging +principle which must be followed by every woman, man and child that is +well dressed--suitability. Nor does suitability mean merely that you must +choose clothes suitable to your age and appearance, and that you must get +a ball dress for a ball, and a street dress to walk in; it means equally +that you must not buy clothes out of proportion to your income, or out of +keeping with your surroundings. + + +=DISPROPORTIONATE EXPENDITURE IN BAD TASTE= + +About fifteen years ago the extravagance in women's dress reached such a +high-water mark that it was not unheard of for a New York woman to spend a +third of her husband's income on clothes. All women of fashion bought +clothes when it would not have occurred to them to buy furniture--when it +would have seemed preposterous to buy a piece of jewelry--but clothes, +clothes, and more clothes, each more hand-embroidered than the last, until +just as it seemed that no dress was fit to be seen if it hadn't a month or +two of some one's time embroidered on it, the work on clothes subsided, +until now we are at the other extreme; no work is put on them at all. At +least, clothes to-day are much more sensible, and let us hope the sense +will be lasting. + +The war did at least make people realize that luxuries and trimmings could +go too far. Ten years ago the American woman who lived in a little +cottage, who walked when she went out or took the street car, wore the +same clothes exactly that Mrs. Gilding wore in her victoria, or trailed +over a Ming rug. The French woman has always been (and the American woman +of taste is now) too great an artist to sit in a little room with its +cotton-print slip covers, muslin curtains, and geranium pots on the window +ledge, in anything strikingly elaborate and expensive. Charming as her +dress may be in line and cut and color, she keeps it (no matter how +intrinsically good it may be) in harmony with her geranium pots and her +chintz. + +On the other hand, clothes that are too plain can be equally out of +proportion. Last winter, for instance, a committee of ladies met in what +might safely be called the handsomest house in New York, in a room that +would fit perfectly in the Palace of Versailles, filled with treasures +such as those of the Wallace collection. The hostess presided in a black +serge golf skirt, a business woman's white shirt-waist, and stout walking +boots, her hair brushed flat and tidily back and fastened as though for +riding, her face and hands redolent of soap. No powder, not a nail +manicured. Had she been a girl earning her living, she could not have been +more suitably dressed, but her millions and her palace background demand +that her clothes be at least moderately in keeping. + +One does not have to be dowdy as an alternative to being too richly +dressed, and to define differences between clothes that are notable +because of their distinction and smartness, and clothes that are merely +conspicuous and therefore vulgar, is a very elusive point. However, there +are certain rules that seem pretty well established. + + +=VULGAR CLOTHES= + +Vulgar clothes are those which, no matter what the fashion of the moment +may be, are always too elaborate for the occasion; too exaggerated in +style, or have accessories out of proportion. People of uncultivated taste +are apt to fancy distortions; to exaggerate rather than modify the +prevailing fashions. + +For example: A conspicuous evidence of bad style that has persisted +through numberless changes in fashion, is the over-dressed and +over-trimmed head. The woman of uncultivated taste has no more sense of +moderation than the Queen of the Cannibals. She will elaborate her +hair-dressing to start with (this is all right, if elaboration really +suits her type) and then she will "decorate" it with everything in the way +of millinery and jewelry that she can lay her hands on. Or, in the +daytime, she fancies equally over-weighted hats, and rich-looking fur +coats and the latest edition in the most conspicuous possible footwear. +And she much prefers wearing rings to gloves. Maybe she thinks they do +not go together? She despises sensible clothing; she also despises plain +fabrics and untrimmed models. She also cares little (apparently) for +staying at home, since she is perpetually seen at restaurants and at every +public entertainment. The food she orders is rich, the appearance she +makes is rich; in fact, to see her often is like nothing so much as being +forced to eat a large amount of butter-plain. + +Beau Brummel's remark that when one attracted too much notice, one could +be sure of being not well-dressed but over-dressed, has for a hundred +years been the comfort of the dowdy. It is, of course, very often true, +but not invariably. A person may be stared at for any one of many reasons. +It depends very much on the stare. A woman may be stared at because she is +indiscreet, or because she looks like a left-over member of the circus, or +because she is enchanting to look at. + +If you are much stared at, what _sort_ of a stare do you usually meet? Is +it bold, or mocking, or is it merely that people look at you wistfully? If +the first, change your manner; if the second, wear more conventional +clothes; if the third, you may be left as you are. But be sure of your +diagnosis of this last. + + +=EXTRAVAGANCE NOT VULGARITY= + +Ostentation is always vulgar but extravagance is not necessarily +vulgar--not by any means. Extravagance can become dishonest if carried +beyond one's income. + +Nearly everything that is beautiful or valuable is an extravagance--for +most of us. Always to wear new gloves is an extravagant item for one with +a small allowance--but scarcely vulgar! A laundry bill can be extravagant, +flowers in one's city house, a piece of beautiful furniture, a good +tapestry, each is an extravagance to an income that can not easily afford +the expenditure. To one sufficient to buy the tapestry, the flowers are +not an extravagance at all. + +To buy quantities of things that are not even used after they are bought +is sheer wastefulness, and to buy everything that tempts you, whether you +can afford to pay for it or not, is, if you can not afford it, verging on +the actually dishonest. + + +=DRESSES FOR DINNERS AND BALLS= + +Supposing, since clothes suitable to the occasion are the first requisite +of good taste, we take up a few details that are apart from fashion. + +A dinner dress really means every sort of low, or half low evening dress. +A formal dinner dress, like a ball dress, is always low-necked and without +sleeves, and is the handsomest type of evening dress that there is. A ball +dress may be exquisite in detail but it is often merely effective. The +perfect ball dress is one purposely designed with a skirt that is becoming +when dancing. A long wrapped type of dress would make Diana herself look +like a toy monkey-on-a-stick, but might be dignified and beautiful at a +dinner. A dinner dress differs from a ball dress in little except that it +is not necessarily designed for freedom of movement. + +Hair ornaments always look well at a ball but are not especially +appropriate (unless universally in fashion) on other occasions. A lady in +a ball dress with nothing added to the head, looks a little like being +hatless in the street. This sounds like a contradiction of the criticism +of the vulgarian. But because a tiara is beautiful at a ball, or a spray +of feathers, or a high comb, or another ornament, does not mean that all +of these should be put on together and worn in a restaurant; which is just +what the vulgarian would do. Whether, to wear a head-dress, however, +depends not alone upon fashion but upon the individual. If the type of +hair ornament at the moment in fashion is becoming, wear it, especially to +balls and in a box at the opera. But if it is not becoming, don't. + +Ladies of fashion, by the way, do not have their hair especially dressed +for formal occasions. Each wears her hair a certain way, and it is put up +every morning just as carefully as for a ball. The only time it is +arranged differently is for riding. Ah informal dinner dress is merely a +modified formal one. It is low in front and high in the back, with long or +elbow sleeves--or perhaps it is Dutch neck and no sleeves. + +When trains are in fashion, all older women should wear them. Fashion or +no fashion, no woman who has passed forty looks really well in a cut-off +evening dress. An effect of train, however, can very adequately be +produced with any arrangement or trimming that extends upon the floor. + +The informal dinner dress is worn to the theater, the restaurant (of high +class), the concert and the opera. Informal dinner dresses are worn in the +boxes at the opera on ordinary nights, such as when no especially great +star is to sing, and when one is not going on to a ball afterward, but a +ball dress is never inappropriate, especially without head-dress. On gala +nights, ball dresses are worn in the boxes and head-dresses and as many +jewels as one chooses--or has. + + +=THE TEA-GOWN= + +Every one knows that a tea-gown is a hybrid between a wrapper and a ball +dress. It has always a train and usually long flowing sleeves; is made of +rather gorgeous materials and goes on easily, and its chief use is not for +wear at the tea-table so much as for dinner alone with one's family. + +It can, however, very properly be put on for tea, and if one is dining at +home, kept on for dinner. Otherwise a lady is apt to take tea in whatever +dress she had on for luncheon, and dress after tea for dinner. + +One does not go out to dine in a tea-gown except in the house of a member +of one's family or a most intimate friend. One would wear a tea-gown in +one's own house in receiving a guest to whose house one would wear a +dinner dress. + + +=WHEN IN DOUBT= + +There is one rule that is fairly safe to follow: When in doubt, wear the +plainer dress. It is always better far to be under-dressed than +over-dressed. If you don't know whether to put on a ball dress or a dinner +dress, wear the dinner dress. Or, whether to wear cloth or brocade to a +luncheon, wear the cloth. + + +=ON THE STREET= + +Your tea-gowns, since they are never worn in public, can literally be as +bizarre as you please, and if you are driving in a closed motor, you can +also wear an "original" type of dress. But in walking on the street,--if +you care to be taken for a well-bred person--never wear anything that is +exaggerated. If skirts are short, don't wear them two inches shorter than +any one else's; if they are long, don't go down the street dragging a +train and sweeping the dirt up on the under-flouncings. (Let us hope +_that_ fashion never comes back!) Don't wear too much jewelry; it is in +bad taste in the first place, and in the second, is a temptation to a +thief. And don't under any circumstances, distort your figure into a +grotesque shape. + + +=COUNTRY CLOTHES= + +Nothing so marks the "person who doesn't know" as inappropriate choice of +clothes. To wear elaborate clothes out of doors in the country, is quite +as out of place as to parade "sports" clothes on the streets in town. + +It is safe to say that "sport" clothes are appropriate country +clothes--especially for all young people. Elderly ladies, needless to say, +should not don "sporting eccentricities" nor wear sweaters to lunch +parties; but sensible country clothes, such as have for many decades been +worn in England, of homespun or serge or jersey cloth or whatever has +replaced these materials, are certainly more appropriate to walk in than a +town costume--even for a lady of seventy! Young people going to the +country for the day wear sports clothes; which if seen early in the +morning in town and again late in the afternoon, merely show you have been +to the country. But town clothes in the country proclaim your ignorance of +fitness. Even for a lunch party at Golden Hall or Great Estates, every one +who is young wears smart country clothes. + + +=SHOES AND SLIPPERS= + +Sport shoes are naturally adapted to the sport for which they are +intended. High-heeled slippers do not go with any country clothes, except +organdie or muslins or other distinctly feminine "summer" dresses. +Elaborate afternoon dresses of "painted" chiffons, embroidered mulls, +etc., are seen only at weddings, lawn parties, or at watering-places +abroad. + + +=A SUGGESTION TO THOSE WHO MIND SUNBURN= + +No advice is intended for those who have a skin that either does not burn +at all, or turns a beautiful smooth Hawaiian brown; but a woman whose +creamy complexion bursts into freckles, as violent as they are hideous, at +the first touch of the sun need no longer stay perpetually indoors in +daytime, or venture out only when swathed like a Turk, if she knows the +virtue in orange as a color that defies the sun's rays. A thin veil of +red-orange is more effective than a thick one of blue or black. + +Orange shirt-waists do not sound very conservative, but they are +mercifully conserving to arms sensitive to sunburn. Young Mrs. Gilding, +whose skin is as perishable as it is lovely, always wears orange on the +golf course. A skirt of burnt-orange serge of homespun or linen, and +shirt-waists of orange linen or crepe de chine. A hat with a brim and a +harem-veil (pinned across her nose under her eyes) of orange +marquisette,--which is easier to breathe through than chiffon--allows her +to play golf or tennis or to motor or even go out in a sailboat and keep +her skin without a blemish. + +Constance Style, who also has a skin that the sun destroys, wears orange +playing tennis, but for bathing wears a high-neck and long-sleeved bathing +suit and "makes her face up" (also the backs of her hands) with theatrical +grease paint that has a good deal of yellow in it, and flesh color +ordinary powder on top. The grease paint withstands hot sun and water, but +it is messy. The alternative, however, is a choice between complexion or +bathing, as it is otherwise prohibitive for the "sun afflicted" to have +both. + + +=RIDING CLOTHES= + +The distorted circus-mirror clothes seen on men who know no better, are +not a bit worse than the riding clothes seen on actresses in our best +theaters and moving pictures--who ought to know better. Nothing looks +worse than riding clothes made and worn badly, and nothing looks smarter +than they when well made and well put on. + +A riding habit, no matter what the fashion happens to be, is like a +uniform, in that it must be made and worn according to regulations. It +must above all be meticulously trig and compact. Nothing must be sticking +out a thousandth part of an inch that can be flattened in. + +A riding habit is the counterpart of an officer's uniform; it is not worn +so as to make the wearer look pretty! A woman to look well in a habit must +be smart or she is a sight! And nothing contributes so much to the +"sights" we see at present as the attempt to look pretty instead of +looking correct. The criticism is not intended for the woman who lives far +off in the open country and jumps on a horse in whatever she happens to +have on, but for those who dress "for looks" and ride in the parks of our +cities, or walk on the stage and before the camera, in scenes meant to +represent smart society! + +To repeat, therefore, the young woman who wants to look pretty should +confine her exercise to dancing. She can also hold a parasol over her head +and sit in a canoe--or she can be pretty how and where she will, so long +as it is not on a horse in the park or hunting-field. (To mention +hunting-field is superfluous; the woman who can ride well enough to +follow the hounds is too good a sportswoman, too great a lover of good +form to be ignorant of the proper outline necessary to smartness of +appearance in the saddle.) + +In smartest English society it is not considered best form for a young +girl to ride astride in the hunting-field or in the park after she is +grown. A high-born English girl rides astride as a child, but as soon as +she is old enough to be presented at Court, she appears at a Meet or in +the "Row" in a lady's habit, trigly perfect in fit, and on a side-saddle. +In America this is an extreme opinion, and it is only among the most +fashionable that a young girl having all her life ridden in a man's +saddle, finds the world a joyless place and parents cruel when she is no +longer allowed to ride like a boy. But she becomes, in spite of her +protests, "another who looks divine on a horse." And you can look divine +too, if you choose! On second thoughts the adjective must be qualified. No +one looks divine on a horse who is not thin as a shingle. But since diet +produces a shingle shape and every one strong-minded (or vain) enough, can +diet, you need only care enough to "count your calories" and be as slim as +you please. + +Next, the best habit possible. And best habits are expensive, and there +are no "second best." A habit is good or it is bad. Whatever the present +fashion may be, have your habit utterly conventional. Don't wear checks or +have slant pockets, or eccentric cuffs or lapels; don't have the waist +pinched in. Choose a plain dark or "dust" color. A night blue that has a +few white hairs in the mixture does not show dust as much as a solid dark +color, and a medium weight close material holds its shape better than a +light loose weave. + +You may wear a single white carnation or a few violets in your +buttonhole--but no other trimming. Keep the idea of perfect clothes for +men in mind, get nothing that the smartest man would not wear, and you +can't go wrong. Get boots like those of a man, low-heeled and with a +straight line from heel to back of top. Don't have the tops wider than +absolutely necessary not to bind, and don't have them curved or fancy in +shape. Be sure that there is no elbow sticking out like a horse's hock at +the back of the boot, and don't have a corner on the inside edge of the +sole. And don't try to wear a small size! + + +=WHEN YOU PUT YOUR HABIT ON= + +First, hair: Never mind if you look like Mme. Recamier with your hair +fluffed and like a skinned rabbit with it tight back, tight, flat back it +must go. Brush it smooth as you can, braid it or coil it about level with +the top of your ears and wind it in a door mat, not a knob in the back. + +If you have a great quantity of hair, you should take all the inner part +of it, coil it on top of your head so it will go under your hat out of the +way. Then take the outer edge of it and braid or wind it as flat as +possible. A large bun at the back of the head is almost as bad as hair +drawn over the ears at the side. If you have short hairs likely to blow, +you must wear a hunting hair net. And if it is bobbed, it must be drawn +back into a silk riding net and made to look trim. + +Correct riding clothes are not fashion but form! Whether coat skirts are +long or short, full or plain, and waists wasp-like or square, the above +admonitions have held for many decades, and are likely to hold for many +more. + +Gloves must be of heavy leather and at least two sizes bigger than those +ordinarily worn. + +A hat must fit the head and its shape must be conventional. Never wear a +hat that would be incorrect on a man, and don't wear it on the back of +your head or over your nose. + +Wear your stock as tight as you comfortably can, not _too_ tight! Tie it +smartly so as to make it flat and neat, and anchor whatever you wear so +securely that nothing can possibly come loose. + +And if you want to see a living example of perfection in riding clothes, +go to the next horse-show where Miss Belle Beach is riding and look at +her! + + +=WHAT CLOTHES TO TAKE FOR A WEEK-END= + +Unless fashion turns itself upside down (which it is, of course, perfectly +capable of doing), elaborate clothes, except evening ones, are entirely +useless, even in Newport. We have all of us abandoned Paris fashions for +country wear in favor of those of England. The Valenciennes insertions and +trailing chiffons of some years ago, still seen at watering-places in +France, have been entirely superseded by country clothes. + +In going to any fashionable house in the country, you should take a dinner +dress for each evening, with stockings and slippers to match. You need a +country dress for each day, or if the weather is uncertain, a thick one +and two thin ones, with a long coat, and a dress suitable for church. This +one can perfectly well be a country dress, but not a "sports" one. + +If you are not too young and are going to stay in an informal house where +you will probably be the only guest, and where it is likely no one will be +asked in, a tea-gown or two should be taken. + +If you are going especially for a ball, but not given by your hostess, +needless to say, you take a ball dress and an evening wrap. In the autumn +or winter, a fur coat will do double service for coat and wrap. + +Do not take a big trunk full of all the things you don't need. Don't take +sports clothes for all occasions if you are not a sportswoman. But if you +do ride, or play tennis or golf, or skate or swim, be sure to take your +own clothes and _don't_ borrow other people's. There are plenty of +ingeniously arranged week-end trunks, very compact in size, that have a +hat compartment, holding from two to six hats, and plenty of room for a +half a dozen dresses and their accessories. + + +=WHEN THE INCOME IS LIMITED= + +No one can dress well on nothing a year; that must be granted at the +outset. But a woman who has talent, taste, and ingenuity can be suitably +and charmingly dressed on little a year, especially at present. + +First of all, to mind wearing a dress many times because it indicates a +small bank account, is to exhibit a false notion of the values in life. +Any one who thinks well or ill of her, in accordance with her income, can +not be too quickly got rid of! But worthwhile people _are_ influenced in +her disfavor when she has clothes in number and quality out of proportion +to her known financial situation. + +It is tiresome everlastingly to wear black, but nothing is so serviceable, +nothing so unrecognizable, nothing looks so well on every occasion. A very +striking dress can not be worn many times without making others as well as +its owner feel bored at the sight of it. "Here comes the Zebra" or "the +Cockatoo!" is inevitable if a dress of stripes or flamboyant color is worn +often. She who must wear one dress through a season and have it perhaps +made over the next, would better choose black or cream color. Or perhaps a +certain color suits her, and this fact makes it possible for her +habitually to wear it without impressing others with her lack of clothes. +But whether her background be black or cerise it should invariably blend +with her whole wardrobe, so that all accessories can be made to do double +or quadruple service. + +Supposing you are a young woman with more beauty than wealth! Let us also +suppose you have three evening dresses, a blue, a pink and a green. At the +moment you can wear flesh-colored slippers and stockings with everything, +which rather weakens the argument--however, a blue fan does not look well +with a pink or a green dress, nor do the other combinations. Supposing, +however, you had instead a cream-colored dress, a flesh-colored, and an +orchid one. Flesh-colored slippers look much better with cream and orchid +than with either green or blue, at any rate! A watermelon pink fan is +lovely in night-light with all three; so is a cream one. Or perhaps by +changing both fan and slippers, a different effect is produced, since the +colors of your clothes are background colors. + +But nothing really can compare with the utility and smartness of black. +Take a black tulle dress, made in the simplest possible way; worn plain, +it is a simple dinner dress. It can have a lace slip to go over it, and +make another dress. With a jet harness--meaning merely trimming that can +be added at will--it is still another dress. Or it can have a tunic of +silver or of gold trimming; and fans, flowers and slippers in various +colors, such as watermelon or emerald, change it again. In fact, a black +tulle can be changed almost as easily as though done with a magician's +wand. + +To choose daytime clothes that go with the same hats, shoes, parasols, +wrist-bags, and gloves, is equally important. A snuff-colored dress and a +gray one need entirely different accessories. Russet shoes, chamois +gloves, and sand-colored hat go also with henna, raspberry, reds, etc.; +but gray must have gray or white shoes, gloves, and hat, which also go +with blues, greens and violets. + + +=DON'T GET TOO MANY CLOTHES= + +Choose the clothes which you must have, carefully, and if you must cut +down, cut down on elaborate ones. There is scarcely anywhere that you can +not, fittingly go in plain clothes. Very few, if any, people _need_ fancy +things; all people need plain ones. + +A very beautiful Chicago woman who is always perfectly dressed for every +occasion, worked out the cost of her own clothes this way: On a sheet of +paper, thumb-tacked on the inside of her closet door, she put a complete +typewritten list of her dresses and hats, and the cost of each. Every time +she put on a dress she made a pencil mark. By and by when a dress was +discarded, she divided the cost of it by the number of times it had been +worn. In this way she found out accurately which were her cheapest and +which her most expensive clothes. When getting new ones she has the +advantage of very valuable information, since she avoids the dress that is +never put on, which is a bigger handicap for the medium-sized allowance +than many women realize. + + +=WHAT TO WEAR IN A RESTAURANT= + +Restaurant dress depends upon the restaurant and the city. Because women +in New York wear low-necked dresses and no hats, does not mean that those +who live in New Town should do the same, if it is not New Town's custom. +But you must _never_ wear an evening dress and a hat! And _never_ wear a +day dress without one. If in the city where you live, people wear day +clothes in the evening, you can only very slightly differ from them. + +It is never good form to be elaborately dressed in a public place, except +in a box at the opera or at a charity ball. + + +=AT A WEDDING, A GARDEN PARTY OR AFTERNOON TEA= + +These are the occasions when elaborate day dresses are appropriate. But if +you have very few clothes, you can perfectly well wear any sort of day +dress that may be in fashion. A coat and skirt is not appropriate, since a +skirt and shirt-waist is and always has been a utility combination. +Unless, of course, the waist is of a color to match the skirt so that it +has the appearance of a dress. + +You need, however, seldom worry about your appearance because you are not +as "dressed" as the others; the time to worry is when you are more dressed +than any one else. + +For a garden-party a country dress is quite all right; though if you have +a very elaborate summer dress, this is the only time you can wear it! + +No one has to be told what to wear to church. In small country churches, +at the seashore, people go to church in country clothes; otherwise, as +every one knows, one puts on "town" clothes, and gloves. + +At a formal luncheon in town, one sees every sort of dress from velvet to +tailor-made. Certain ladies, older ones usually, who like elaborate +clothes, wear them. But younger people are usually dressed in worsted +materials or silks that are dull in finish, and that, although they may be +embroidered and very expensive, give an effect of simplicity. One should +always wear a simpler dress in one's own house than one wears in going to +the house of another. + + +=A FEW GENERAL REMARKS= + +The fault of bad taste is usually in over-dressing. Quality not effect, is +the standard to seek for. Machine-made passementerie on top of conspicuous +but sleazy material is always shoddy. Cut and fit are the two items of +greatest importance in women's clothes, as well as in men's. But fashion +changes too rapidly to make value of material always wise expenditure for +one of slender purse. Better usually have two dresses, each cut and made +in the whim of the moment, than one which must be worn after the whim has +become a freak. In men's clothes the opposite rule should be followed +since good style in men's clothes is unchanging. + +To buy things at sales is very much like buying things at an auction; if +you really know what you want and something about values, you can often do +marvellously well; but if you are easily bewildered and know little of +values, you are apt to spend your good money on trash. A woman of small +means must either be (or learn to be) discriminatingly careful, or she +would better have her clothes made at home, or if she is of "model" type, +buy them ready-made. The ready-to-wear clothes in the Misses' Department +are growing every year better looking; unfortunately and for some +inexplicable reason, the usual Women's Department does not compare in good +taste in selection of models with the former, and it is unusual to find a +dress that a lady of fashion would choose except among the imported +models, for which store prices are as a rule higher than those asked by +the greatest dressmakers. Evening clothes are still usually unbuyable by +the over-fastidious, except for a certain flapper type (and an +undistinguished one at that!), and the ultra-smart woman is still obliged +to go to the private importers for her debutante daughter's ball-dresses +as well as her own--or else into her own sewing-room. + + +=FASHION AND FAT= + +For years the thin, even the scrawny, have had everything their own way. +The woman who is fat, or even plump, has a rather hopeless problem unless +fashion goes to Turkey for its next inspiration, which is so unlikely it +is almost possible! Two things the fat woman should avoid: big patterns +and the stiff tailor-made. Fat women look better in feminine clothes that +follow in the wake, never in the advance, of modified fashion. Fat women +should never wear elaborate clothes or clothes in light colors or heavily +feathered hats. + +The tendency of fat is to take away from one's gracility; therefore, any +one inclined to be fat must be ultra conservative--in order to counteract +the effect. Very tight clothes make fat people look fatter and thin people +thinner. Satin is a bad material, since high lights are too shimmeringly +accentuated. + +Heavy ankles, needless to say, should never be clothed in light stockings +and dark shoes; long, pointed slippers accentuate a thick ankle, and so +does a short skirt that has a straight hem. A "ragged" edge is most +flattering. Dress, stockings and slippers to match are unavoidable in +evening dress, but when possible a thick ankle should have a dark +stocking--or at least a slipper to match the stocking. + +People should select colors that go with their skin. And elderly women +should not wear grass green, or Royal blue, or purple, or any hard color +that needs a faultless complexion. Swarthy skin always looks better in +colors that have red or yellow in them. A very sallow person in pale blue +or apple green looks like a well-developed case of jaundice. + +Pink and orchid are often very becoming to older women; and pale blue or +yellow to those with fair skin. Because a woman is no longer young is no +reason why she should wear perpetual black--unless she is fat. + + +=CLOTHES FOR TRAVELING IN EUROPE= + +Ideal traveling clothes are those which do not wrinkle or show rain spots; +and to find which these are it is necessary to take a sample of each +material, sprinkle it with water, and twist it to see how much abuse it +will stand. Every woman knows what she likes best, and what she considers +suitable. Two alternating traveling dresses at least will be necessary, +and two or three semi-evening dresses to put on for dinner. One very +simple half-dinner dress of black, that has a combination of trimmings +such as described earlier in this chapter, is ideally useful. Tourists do +not put on evening clothes except in very fashionable centers, such as +London, Paris, Monte Carlo or Deauville, and then only if staying at an +ultra fashionable hotel. To be over-dressed is always in bad taste. So +that unless you are going to visit or make several-day stops the one black +evening dress suggested would answer every possible purpose. + +If you intend staying for a long time in one place, you take all of your +season's clothes; and if you are going to visit in England, or to stay +anywhere in the country, you will need country clothes, but not on +ordinary touring. For motoring, space is precious, and clothes should be +chosen with the object of packing into small dimensions. Motoring in +Europe is cold. A very warm, long wrap is necessary. An old fur one is +much the best, and a small, close hat that does not blow. + + +=CLOTHES AND PARIS= + +It is something like this: You have been hypnotized before, and you vow +you won't be again! You make up your mind that you are going to get a +black dress and a dark blue--and nothing else. + +You enter the lower reception hall and mount the bronze balustraded stairs +half way when already Mlle. Marie is aware of your approach. She greets +you not only as though you are the only customer she has ever had, but as +though your coming has saved--just saved in time--the prestige of the +house. + +She tells you breathlessly that you are just in time to see the parade of +models; she puts you where you may have an uninterrupted view. She then +begins her greetings all over again by asking not alone after all the +members of your family and an extraordinarily long list of friends, but +makes a solicitous inquiry after each dress that she has ever sold you. +"Did Madame like her white velvet?" she coos. "Was it not most useful? Was +not her black lace charming? And the bisque cloth--surely Madame had found +great satisfaction in wearing the bisque cloth?" But your ears are as +stone to her blandishments! As a traveling suit, bisque-colored cloth had +not been serviceable! Black lace with a cerise velvet under petticoat +might be effective at Armenonville, but it had seemed queer, to say the +least, at the tennis match in August. No, you are at last immune from any +of those sudden attacks of new fashion fever that result in loss of +judgment. You open your little book and consult your list. + +"I should like," you say, "a navy blue serge trimmed with black braid or +satin or something like that; a black crepe de chine absolutely plain; I +really need nothing else." + +You do not look at Mile. Marie's crestfallen face, you watch the +procession of models. But the old spell works. Besides zebra stripes and +gold shot with cerise and purple, you think an emerald green charmeuse is +really a perfect substitute for the plain black crepe de chine you had in +mind. You show that you are hypnotized by remarking absently, "It is the +color of the grass." + +Instantly, Mlle. Marie, the most skillful _vendeuse_ in Paris, becomes +radiant. "Listen, Madame," she says to you in that insinuating, +confidential, yet humbly ingratiating manner of hers. "Let me explain, +Madame,--the idea of dress this year is altogether idyllic! Never has +there been such charming return to nature. The great originator of our +house has taken his suggestion--but yes! from the little animals of the +fields and woods--from Nature herself! Our dresses this year are intended +to follow the example of all the little animals dressed to match their +backgrounds. Is not that thought exquisite? Is not that delicious? Is an +emerald lizard conspicuous in the tropics? Is a zebra even seen in patches +of sun and shade? And in the snow, think of all the little animals who put +on white coats in winter! Obviously white is the color intended for winter +wear. And for the spring, green. Emerald green assuredly. It is as Madame +herself said, the color of the grass. The emerald charmeuse on a lawn in +summer would be a poem of harmony. The cerise for afternoons at sunset; +this orange shading into coral embroidery to wear beside the fire. The +dark blue chiffon embroidered in silver is for night. All the colors that +Madame at first found so bright--they are but the colors of a summer +flower garden. What would Madame wear in a flower garden? Black crepe de +chine? Assuredly not! See this shell pink chiffon, how lovely it would +look under trees of apple blossoms. Blue serge! Oh, what an escape. And +now if Madame will permit me to suggest?--the green, but assuredly! and +the orange and coral, and the pink chiffon garden dress, and the zebra, +for travelling, and the blue and silver...." + +However, to be serious, people do go to Paris and buy their +clothes--beautiful clothes! Of course they do; especially those who go +every year. But the woman who goes abroad perhaps every four or five years +is apt to be deficient in a trans-Atlantic sense. "Match backgrounds, like +charming little animals?" Never! Oh, a very big Never Again! And yet the +next time shall you not find it a temptation to go just out of curiosity +to find out what the newest artfully enticing little tune of the Pied +Pipers of Paris will be! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THE CLOTHES OF A GENTLEMAN + + +It would seem that some of our great clothing establishments, with an eye +to our polyglot ancestry, have attempted to incorporate some feature of +every European national costume into a "harmonious" whole, and have thus +given us that abiding horror, the freak American suit. You will see it +everywhere, on Broadway of every city and Main Street of every town, on +the boardwalks and beaches of coast resorts, and even in remote farming +villages. It comes up to hit you in the face year after year in all its +amazing variations: waist-line under the arm pits, "trick" little belts, +what-nots in the cuffs; trousers so narrow you fear they will burst before +your eyes, pockets placed in every position, buttons clustered together in +a tight little row or reduced to one. And the worst of it is, few of our +younger men know any better until they go abroad and find their wardrobe a +subject for jest and derision. + +If you would dress like a gentleman, you must do one of two things; either +study the subject of a gentleman's wardrobe until you are competent to +pick out good suits from freaks and direct your misguided tailor, or, at +least until your perceptions are trained, go to an English one. This +latter method is the easiest, and, by all odds, the safest. It is not +Anglomania but plain common sense to admit that, just as the Rue de la +Paix in Paris is the fountainhead of fashions for women, Bond Street in +London is the home of irreproachable clothes for men. + +And yet, curiously enough, just as a woman shopping in Paris can buy +frightful clothes--or the most beautiful; a man can in America buy the +worst clothes in the world--and the best. + +The ordinary run of English clothes may not be especially good, but they +are, on the other hand, never bad; whereas American freak clothes are +distortions like the reflections seen in the convex and concave mirrors of +the amusement parks. But not even the leading tailors of Bond Street can +excel the supremely good American tailor--whose clothes however are +identical in every particular with those of London, and their right to be +called "best" is for greater perfection of workmanship and fit. This last +is a dangerous phrase; "fit" means perfect set and line, not plaster +tightness. + +However, let us suppose that you are either young, or at least fairly +young; that you have unquestioned social position, and that you are going +to get yourself an entire wardrobe. Let us also suppose your money is not +unlimited, so that it may also be seen where you may not, or may if +necessary, economize. + + +=FORMAL EVENING CLOTHES= + +Your full dress is the last thing to economize on. It must be perfect in +fit, cut and material, and this means a first-rate tailor. It must be made +of a dull-faced worsted, either black or night blue, on no account of +broadcloth. Aside from satin facing and collar, which can have lapels or +be cut shawl-shaped, and wide braid on the trousers, it must have no +trimming whatever. Avoid satin or velvet cuffs, moire neck ribbons and +fancy coat buttons as you would the plague. + +Wear a plain white linen waistcoat, not one of cream colored silk, or +figured or even black brocade. Have all your linen faultlessly +clean--always--and your tie of plain white lawn, tied so it will not only +stay in place but look as though nothing short of a backward somersault +could disarrange it. + +Your handkerchief must be white; gloves (at opera or ball) white; flower +in buttonhole (if any) white. If you are a normal size, you can in America +buy inexpensive shirts, and white waistcoats that are above reproach, but +if you are abnormally tall or otherwise an "out size" so that everything +has to be "made to order," you will have to pay anywhere from double to +four times as much for each article you put on. + +When you go out on the street, wear an English silk hat, not one of the +taper crowned variety popular in the "movies." And wear it on your head, +not on the back of your neck. Have your overcoat of plain black or dark +blue material, for you must wear an overcoat with full dress even in +summer. Use a plain white or black and white muffler. Colored ones are +impossible. Wear white buckskin gloves if you can afford them; otherwise +gray or khaki doeskin, and leave them in your overcoat pocket. Your stick +should be of plain Malacca or other wood, with either a crooked or +straight handle. The only ornamentation allowable is a plain silver or +gold band, or top; but perfectly plain is best form. + +And lastly, wear patent leather pumps, shoes or ties, and plain black silk +socks, and leave your rubbers--if you must wear them, in the coat room. + + +=THE TUXEDO= + +The Tuxedo, which is the essential evening dress of a gentleman, is simply +the English dinner coat. It was first introduced in this country at the +Tuxedo Club to provide something less formal than the swallow-tail, and +the name has clung ever since. To a man who can not afford to get two +suits of evening clothes, the Tuxedo is of greater importance. It is worn +every evening and nearly everywhere, whereas the tail coat is necessary +only at balls, formal dinners, and in a box at the opera. Tuxedo clothes +are made of the same materials and differ from full dress ones in only +three particulars: the cut of the coat, the braid on the trousers, and the +use of a black tie instead of a white one. The dinner coat has no tails +and is cut like a sack suit except that it is held closed in front by one +button at the waist line. (A full dress coat, naturally, hangs open.) The +lapels are satin faced, and the collar left in cloth, or if it is +shawl-shaped the whole collar is of satin. + +The trousers are identical with full dress ones except that braid, if +used at all, should be narrow. "Cuffed" trousers are not good form, nor +should a dinner coat be double-breasted. + +Fancy ties are bad form. Choose a plain black silk or satin one. Wear a +white waistcoat if you can afford the strain on your laundry bill, +otherwise a plain black one. By no means wear a gray one nor a gray tie. + +The smartest hat for town wear is an opera, but a straw or felt which is +proper in the country, is not out of place in town. Otherwise, in the +street the accessories are the same as those already given under the +previous heading. + + +=THE HOUSE SUIT= + +The house suit is an extravagance that may be avoided, and an "old" Tuxedo +suit worn instead. + +A gentleman is always supposed to change his clothes for dinner, whether +he is going out or dining at home alone or with his family, and for this +latter occasion some inspired person evolved the house, or lounge, suit, +which is simply a dinner coat and trousers cut somewhat looser than +ordinary evening ones, made of an all-silk or silk and wool fabric in some +dark color, and lined with either satin or silk. Nothing more +comfortable--or luxurious--could be devised for sitting in a deep +easy-chair after dinner, in a reclining position that is ruinous to best +evening clothes. + +Its purpose is really to save wear on evening clothes, and to avoid some +of their discomfort also, because they can not be given hard or careless +usage and long survive. A house suit is distinctly what the name implies, +and is not an appropriate garment to wear out for dinner or to receive any +but intimate guests in at home. The accessories are a pleated shirt, with +turndown stiff collar, and black bow tie, or even an unstarched shirt with +collar attached (white of course). The coat is made with two buttons +instead of one, because no waistcoat is worn with it. + + +=FORMAL AFTERNOON DRESS= + +Formal afternoon dress consists of a black cutaway coat with white pique +or black cloth waistcoat, and gray-and-black striped trousers. The coat +may be bound with braid, or, even in better taste, plain. A satin-faced +lapel is not conservative on a cutaway, but it is the correct facing for +the more formal (and elderly) frock coat. Either a cutaway or a frock coat +is always accompanied by a silk hat, and best worn with plain black +waistcoat and a black bow tie or a black and white four-in-hand tie. A +gray silk ascot worn with the frock coat is supposed to be the correct +wedding garment of the bride's father. (For details of clothes worn by +groom and ushers at a wedding, see chapter on weddings.) + +Shoes may be patent leather, although black calfskin are at present the +fashion, either with or without spats. If with spats, be sure that they +fit close; nothing is worse than a wrinkled spat or one that sticks out +over the instep like the opened bill of a duck! + +Though gray cutaway suits and gray top hats have always been worn to the +races in England, they do not seem suitable here, as races in America are +not such full-dress occasions as in France and England. But at a spring +wedding or other formal occasions a sand-colored double-breasted linen +waistcoat with spats and bow tie to match looks very well with a black +cutaway and almost black trousers, on a man who is young. + + +=THE BUSINESS SUIT= + +The business suit or three-piece sack is made or marred by its cut alone. +It is supposed to be an every-day inconspicuous garment and should be. A +few rules to follow are: + +Don't choose striking patterns of materials; suitable woolen stuffs come +in endless variety, and any which look plain at a short distance are +"safe," though they may show a mixture of colors or pattern when viewed +closely. + +Don't get too light a blue, too bright a green, or anything suggesting a +horse blanket. At the present moment trousers are made with a cuff; +sleeves are not. Lapels are moderately small. Padded shoulders are an +abomination. Peg-topped trousers equally bad. If you must be eccentric, +save your efforts for the next fancy dress ball, where you may wear what +you please, but in your business clothing be reasonable. + +Above everything, don't wear white socks, and don't cover yourself with +chains, fobs, scarf pins, lodge emblems, etc., and don't wear "horsey" +shirts and neckties. You will only make a bad impression on every one you +meet. The clothes of a gentleman are always conservative; and it is safe +to avoid everything than can possibly come under the heading of "novelty." + + +=JEWELRY= + +In your jewelry let diamonds be conspicuous by their absence. Nothing is +more vulgar than a display of "ice" on a man's shirt front, or on his +fingers. + +There is a good deal of jewelry that a gentleman may be allowed to wear, +but it must be chosen with discrimination. Pearl shirt-studs (real ones) +are correct for full dress only, and not to be worn with a dinner coat +unless they are so small as to be entirely inconspicuous. Otherwise you +may wear enamel studs (that look like white linen) or black onyx with a +rim of platinum, or with a very inconspicuous pattern in diamond chips, +but so tiny that they can not be told from a threadlike design in +platinum--or others equally moderate. + +Waistcoat buttons, studs and cuff links, worn in sets, is an American +custom that is permissible. Both waistcoat buttons and cuff links may be +jewelled and valuable, but they must not have big precious stones or be +conspicuous. + +A watch chain should be very thin and a man's ring is usually a seal ring +of plain gold or a dark stone. If a man wears a jewel at all it should be +sunk into a plain "gypsy hoop" setting that has no ornamentation, and worn +on his "little," not his third, finger. + + +=IN THE COUNTRY= + +Gay-colored socks and ties are quite appropriate with flannels or golf +tweeds. Only in your riding clothes you must again be conservative. If you +can get boots built on English lines, wear them; otherwise wear leggings. +And remember that all leather must be real leather in the first place and +polished until its surface is like glass. + +Have your breeches fit you. The coat is less important, in fact, any odd +coat will do. Your legs are the cynosure of attention in riding. + +Most men in the country wear knickerbockers with golf stockings, with a +sack or a belted or a semi-belted coat, and in any variety of homespuns or +tweeds or rough worsted materials. Or they wear long trousered flannels. +Coats are of the polo or ulster variety. For golf or tennis many men wear +sweater coats. Shirts are of cheviot or silk or flannel, all with soft +collars attached and to match. + +The main thing is to dress appropriately. If you are going to play golf, +wear golf clothes; if tennis, wear flannels. Do not wear a yachting cap +ashore unless you are living on board a yacht. + +White woolen socks are correct with white buckskin shoes in the country, +but not in town. + +If some semi-formal occasion comes up, such as a country tea, the +time-worn conservative blue coat with white flannel trousers is +perennially good. + + +=OTHER HINTS= + +The well-dressed man is always a paradox. He must look as though he gave +his clothes no thought and as though literally they grew on him like a +dog's fur, and yet he must be perfectly groomed. He must be close-shaved +and have his hair cut and his nails in good order (not too polished). His +linen must always be immaculate, his clothes "in press," his shoes +perfectly "done." His brown shoes must shine like old mahogany, and his +white buckskin must be whitened and polished like a prize bull terrier at +a bench show. Ties and socks and handkerchief may go together, but too +perfect a match betrays an effort for "effect" which is always bad. + +The well-dressed man never wears the same suit or the same pair of shoes +two days running. He may have only two suits, but he wears them +alternately; if he has four suits he should wear each every fourth day. +The longer time they have "to recover" their shape, the better. + + +=WHAT TO WEAR ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS= + +The appropriate clothes for various occasions are given below. If ever in +doubt what to wear, the best rule is to err on the side of informality. +Thus, if you are not sure whether to put on your dress suit or your +Tuxedo, wear the latter. + + +=FULL DRESS= + +1. At the opera. +2. At an evening wedding. +3. At a dinner to which the invitations are worded in the third person. +4. At a ball, or formal evening entertainment. +5. At certain State functions on the Continent of Europe in broad daylight. + + +=TUXEDO= + +1. At the theater. +2. At most dinners. +3. At informal parties. +4. Dining at home. +5. Dining in a restaurant. + + +=A CUTAWAY OR FROCK COAT WITH STRIPED TROUSERS= + +1. At a noon or afternoon wedding. +2. On Sunday for church (in the city). +3. At any formal daytime function. +4. In England to business. +5. As usher at a wedding. +6. As pall-bearer. + + +=BUSINESS SUITS= + +1. All informal daytime occasions. +2. Traveling. +3. The coat of a blue suit with white flannel or duck trousers for a + lunch, or to church, in the country. +4. A blue or black sack suit will do in place of a cutaway at a wedding, +but not if you are the groom or an usher. + + +=COUNTRY CLOTHES= + +1. _Only_ in the country. + +To wear odd tweed coats and flannel trousers in town is not only +inappropriate, but bad taste. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +THE KINDERGARTEN OF ETIQUETTE + + +In the houses of the well-to-do where the nursery is in charge of a woman +of refinement who is competent to teach little children proper behavior, +they are never allowed to come to table in the dining-room until they have +learned at least the elements of good manners. But whether in a big house +of this description, or in a small house where perhaps the mother alone +must be the teacher, children can scarcely be too young to be taught the +rudiments of etiquette, nor can the teaching be too patiently or too +conscientiously carried out. + +Training a child is exactly like training a puppy; a little heedless +inattention and it is out if hand immediately; the great thing is not to +let it acquire bad habits that must afterward be broken. Any child can be +taught to be beautifully behaved with no effort greater than quiet +patience and perseverance, whereas to break bad habits once they are +acquired is a Herculean task. + + +=ELEMENTARY TABLE MANNERS= + +Since a very little child can not hold a spoon properly, and as neatness +is the first requisite in table-manners, it should be allowed to hold its +spoon as it might take hold of a bar in front of it, back of the hand up, +thumb closed over fist. The pusher (a small flat piece of silver at right +angles to a handle) is held in the same way, in the left hand. Also in the +first eating lessons, a baby must be allowed to put a spoon in its mouth, +pointed end foremost. Its first lessons must be to take small mouthfuls, +to eat very slowly, to spill nothing, to keep the mouth shut while chewing +and not smear its face over. In drinking, a child should use both hands to +hold a mug or glass until its hand is big enough so it can easily hold a +glass in one. When it can eat without spilling anything or smearing its +lips, and drink without making grease "moons" on its mug or tumbler (by +always wiping its mouth before drinking), it may be allowed to come to +table in the dining-room as a treat, for Sunday lunch or breakfast. Or if +it has been taught by its mother at table, she can relax her attention +somewhat from its progress. Girls are usually daintier and more easily +taught than boys, but most children will behave badly at table if left to +their own devices. Even though they may commit no serious offenses, such +as making a mess of their food or themselves, or talking with their mouths +full, all children love to crumb bread, flop this way and that in their +chairs, knock spoons and forks together, dawdle over their food, feed +animals--if any are allowed in the room--or become restless and noisy. + +Once graduated to the dining-room, any reversion to such tactics must be +firmly reprehended, and the child should understand that continued offense +means a return to the nursery. But before company it is best to say as +little as possible, since too much nagging in the presence of strangers +lessens a child's incentive to good behavior before them. If it refuses to +behave nicely, much the best thing to do is to say nothing, but get up and +quietly lead it from the table back to the nursery. It is not only bad for +the child but annoying to a guest to continue instructions before +"company," and the child learns much more quickly to be well-behaved if it +understands that good behavior is the price of admission to grown-up +society. A word or two such as, "Don't lean on the table, darling," or +"pay attention to what you are doing, dear," should suffice. But a child +that is noisy, that reaches out to help itself to candy or cake, that +interrupts the conversation, that eats untidily has been allowed to leave +the nursery before it has been properly graduated. + +Table manners must, of course, proceed slowly in exactly the same way that +any other lessons proceed in school. Having learned when a baby to use the +nursery implements of spoon and pusher, the child, when it is a little +older, discards them for the fork, spoon and knife. + + +=THE PROPER USE OF THE FORK= + +As soon, therefore, as his hand is dexterous enough, the child must be +taught to hold his fork, no longer gripped baby-fashion in his fist, but +much as a pencil is held in writing; only the fingers are placed nearer +the "top" than the "point," the thumb and two first fingers are closed +around the handle two-thirds of the way up the shank, and the food is +taken up shovel-wise on the turned-up prongs. At first his little fingers +will hold his fork stiffly, but as he grows older his fingers will become +more flexible just as they will in holding his pencil. If he finds it hard +work to shovel his food, he can, for a while, continue to use his nursery +pusher. By and by the pusher is changed for a small piece of bread, which +is held in his left hand and between thumb and first two fingers, and +against which the fork shovels up such elusive articles as corn, peas, +poached egg, etc. + + +=THE SPOON= + +In using the spoon, he holds it in his right hand like the fork. In eating +cereal or dessert, he may be allowed to dip the bowl of the spoon toward +him and eat from the end, but in eating soup he must dip his spoon away +from him--turning the outer rim of the bowl down as he does so--fill the +bowl not more than three-quarters full and sip it, without noise, out of +the side (not the end) of the bowl. The reason why the bowl must not be +filled full is because it is impossible to lift a brimming spoonful of +liquid to his mouth without spilling some, or in the case of porridge +without filling his mouth too full. While still very young he may be +taught never to leave the spoon in a cup while drinking out of it, but +after stirring the cocoa, or whatever it is, to lay the spoon in the +saucer. + +A very ugly table habit, which seems to be an impulse among all children, +is to pile a great quantity of food on a fork and then lick or bite it off +piecemeal. This must on no account be permitted. It is perfectly correct, +however, to sip a little at a time, of hot liquid from a spoon. In taking +any liquid either from a spoon or drinking vessel, no noise must ever be +made. + +[Illustration: "IN EATING SOUP THE CHILD MUST DIP HIS SPOON AWAY FROM +HIM--TURNING THE OUTER RIM OF THE SPOON DOWN AS HE DOES SO...." [Page +573.]] + +[Illustration: "IN BEING TAUGHT TO USE KNIFE AND FORK TOGETHER, THE CHILD +SHOULD AT FIRST CUT ONLY SOMETHING VERY EASY, SUCH AS A SLICE OF +CHICKEN...." [Page 574.]] + +[Illustration: "HAVING CUT OFF A MOUTHFUL, HE THRUSTS THE FORK THROUGH IT, +WITH PRONGS POINTED DOWNWARD AND CONVEYS IT TO HIS MOUTH WITH HIS LEFT +HAND. HE MUST LEARN TO CUT OFF AND EAT ONE MOUTHFUL AT A TIME." [Page +574.]] + +[Illustration: "WHEN NO KNIFE IS BEING USED, THE FORK IS HELD IN THE +RIGHT HAND, WHETHER USED 'PRONGS DOWN' TO IMPALE THE MEAT, OR 'PRONGS UP' +TO LIFT VEGETABLES." [Page 575.]] + +[Illustration: "BREAD SHOULD ALWAYS BE BROKEN INTO SMALL PIECES WITH THE +FINGERS BEFORE BEING BUTTERED." [Page 583.]] + +[Illustration: "WHEN HE HAS FINISHED EATING, THE CHILD SHOULD LAY HIS +KNIFE AND FORK CLOSE TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE, WITH HANDLES TOWARD THE RIGHT +SIDE OF HIS PLATE...." [Page 575.]] + + +=THE FORK AND KNIFE TOGETHER= + +In being taught to use his knife, the child should at first cut only +something very easy, such as a slice of chicken; he should not attempt +anything with bones or gristle, or anything that is tough. In his left +hand is put his fork with the prongs downward, held near the top of the +handle. His index finger is placed on the shank so that it points to the +prongs, and is supported at the side by his thumb. His other fingers close +underneath and hold the handle tight. He must never be allowed to hold his +fork emigrant fashion, perpendicularly clutched in the clenched fist, and +to saw across the food at its base with his knife. + + +=THE KNIFE= + +The knife is held in his right hand exactly as the fork is held in his +left, firmly and at the end of the handle, with the index finger pointing +down the back of the blade. In cutting he should learn not to scrape the +back of the fork prongs with the cutting edge of the knife. Having cut off +a mouthful, he thrusts the fork through it, with prongs pointed downward +and conveys it to his mouth with his left hand. He must learn to cut off +and eat one mouthful at a time. + +It is unnecessary to add that the knife must _never_ be put in his mouth; +nor is it good form to use the knife unnecessarily. Soft foods, like +croquettes, hash on toast, all eggs and vegetables, should be cut or +merely broken apart with the edge of the fork held like the knife, after +which the fork is turned in the hand to first (or shovel) position. The +knife must never be used to scoop baked potato out of the skin, or to +butter potato. A fork must be used for all manipulations of vegetables; +butter for baked potatoes taken on the tip of the fork shovel fashion, +laid on the potato, and then pressed down and mixed with the prongs +held points curved up. + +When no knife is being used, the fork is held in the right hand, whether +used "prongs down" to impale the meat or "prongs up" to lift vegetables. + +To pile mashed potato and other vegetables on the convex side of the fork +on top of the meat for two or more inches of its length, is a disgusting +habit dear to school boys, and one that is more easily prevented than +corrected. In fact, taking a big mouthful (next to smearing his face and +chewing with mouth open) is the worst offense at table. + +When he has finished eating, he should lay his knife and fork close +together, side by side, with handles toward the right side of his plate, +the handles projecting an inch or two beyond the rim of the plate. They +must be placed far enough on the plate so that there is no danger of their +over-balancing on to the table or floor when removed at the end of the +course. + + +=OTHER TABLE MATTERS= + +The distance from the table at which it is best to sit, is a matter of +personal comfort. A child should not be allowed to be so close that his +elbows are bent like a grasshopper's, nor so far back that food is apt to +be spilled in transit from plate to mouth. Children like to drink very +long and rapidly, all in one breath, until they are pink around the eyes, +and are literally gasping. They also love to put their whole hands in +their finger-bowls and wiggle their fingers. + +A baby of two, or at least by the time he is three, should be taught to +dip the tips of his fingers in the finger-bowl, without playing, draw the +fingers of the right hand across his mouth, and then wipe his lips and +fingers on the apron of his bib. + +No small child can be expected to use a napkin instead of a bib. No matter +how nicely behaved he may be, there is always danger of his spilling +something, some time. Soft boiled egg is hideously difficult to eat +without ever getting a drop of it down the front, and it is much easier +to supply him with a clean bib for the next meal than to change his dress +for the next moment. + +Very little children usually have "hot water plates" that are specially +made like a double plate with hot water space between, on which the meat +is cut up and the vegetables "fixed" in the pantry, and brought to the +children before other people at the table are served. Not only because it +is hard for them to be made to wait, and have their attention attracted by +food not for them, but because they take so long to eat. As soon as they +are old enough to eat everything on the table, they are served, not last, +but in the regular rotation at table in which they come. + + +=TABLE TRICKS THAT MUST BE CORRECTED= + +To sit up straight and keep their hands in their laps when not occupied +with eating, is very hard for a child, but should be insisted upon in +order to prevent a careless attitude that all too readily degenerates into +flopping this way and that, and into fingering whatever is in reach. He +must not be allowed to warm his hands on his plate, or drum on the table, +or screw his napkin into a rope or make marks on the tablecloth. If he +shows talent as an artist, give him pencils or modeling wax in his +playroom, but do not let him bite his slice of bread into the silhouette +of an animal, or model figures in soft bread at the table. And do not +allow him to construct a tent out of two forks, or an automobile chassis +out of tumblers and knives. Food and table implements are not playthings, +nor is the dining-room a playground. + + +=TALKING AT TABLE= + +When older people are present at table and a child wants to say something, +he must be taught to stop eating momentarily and look at his mother, who +at the first pause in the conversation will say, "What is it, dear?" And +the child then has his say. If he wants merely to launch forth on a long +subject of his own conversation, his mother says, "Not now, darling, we +will talk about that by and by," or "Don't you see that mother is talking +to Aunt Mary?" + +When children are at table alone with their mother, they should not only +be allowed to talk but unconsciously trained in table conversation as well +as in table manners. Children are all more or less little monkeys in that +they imitate everything they see. If their mother treats them exactly as +she does her visitors they in turn play "visitor" to perfection. Nothing +hurts the feelings of children more than not being allowed to behave like +grown persons when they think they are able. To be helped, to be fed, to +have their food cut up, all have a stultifying effect upon their +development as soon as they have become expert enough to attempt these +services for themselves. + +Children should be taught from the time they are little not to talk about +what they like and don't like. A child who is not allowed to say anything +but "No, thank you," at home, will not mortify his mother in public by +screaming, "I hate steak, I won't eat potato, I want ice cream!" + + +=QUIETNESS AT TABLE= + +Older children should not be allowed to jerk out their chairs, to flop +down sideways, to flick their napkins by one corner, to reach out for +something, or begin to eat nuts, fruit or other table decorations. A child +as well as a grown person should sit down quietly in the center of his +chair and draw it up to the table (if there is no one to push it in for +him) by holding the seat in either hand while momentarily lifting himself +on his feet. He must not "jump" or "rock" his chair into place at the +table. In getting up from the table, again he must push his chair back +quietly, using his hands on either side of the chair seat, and _not_ by +holding on to the table edge and giving himself, chair and all, a sudden +shove! There should never be a sound made by the pushing in or out of +chairs at table. + + +=THE SPOILED CHILD= + +The bad manners of American children, which unfortunately are supposed by +foreigners to be typical, are nearly always the result of their being +given "star" parts by over-fond but equally over-foolish mothers. It is +only necessary to bring to mind the most irritating and objectionable +child one knows, and the chances are that its mother continually throws +the spotlight on it by talking to it, and about it, and by calling +attention to its looks or its cunning ways or even, possibly, its +naughtiness. + +It is humanly natural to make a fuss over little children, particularly if +they are pretty, and it takes quite super-human control for a young mother +not to "show off" her treasure, but to say instead, "Please do not pay any +attention to her." Some children, who are especially free from +self-consciousness, stand "stardom" better than others who are more +readily spoiled; but in nine cases out of ten, the old-fashioned method +that assigned children to inconspicuous places in the background and +decreed they might be seen but not heard, produced men and women of far +greater charm than the modern method of encouraging public self-expression +from infancy upward. + + +=CHIEF VIRTUE: OBEDIENCE= + +No young human being, any more than a young dog, has the least claim to +attractiveness unless it is trained to manners and obedience. The child +that whines, interrupts, fusses, fidgets, and does nothing that it is told +to do, has not the least power of attraction for any one, even though it +may have the features of an angel and be dressed like a picture. Another +that may have no claim to beauty whatever, but that is sweet and nicely +behaved, exerts charm over every one. + +When possible, a child should be taken away the instant it becomes +disobedient. It soon learns that it can not "stay with mother" unless it +is well-behaved. This means that it learns self-control in babyhood. Not +only must children obey, but they must never be allowed to "show off" or +become pert, or to contradict or to answer back; and after having been +told "no," they must never be allowed by persistent nagging to win "yes." + +A child that loses its temper, that teases, that is petulant and +disobedient, and a nuisance to everybody, is merely a victim, poor little +thing, of parents who have been too incompetent or negligent to train it +to obedience. Moreover, that same child when grown will be the first to +resent and blame the mother's mistaken "spoiling" and lack of good sense. + + +=FAIR PLAY= + +Nothing appeals to children more than justice, and they should be taught +in the nursery to "play fair" in games, to respect each other's property +and rights, to give credit to others, and not to take too much credit to +themselves. Every child must be taught never to draw attention to the +meagre possessions of another child whose parents are not as well off as +her own. A purse-proud, overbearing child who says to a playmate, "My +clothes were all made in Paris, and my doll is ever so much handsomer than +yours," or "Is that real lace on your collar?" is not impressing her young +friend with her grandeur and discrimination but with her disagreeableness +and rudeness. A boy who brags about what he has, and boasts of what he can +do, is only less objectionable because other boys are sure to "take it out +of him" promptly and thoroughly! Nor should a bright, observing child be +encouraged to pick out other people's failings, or to tell her mother how +inferior other children are compared with herself. If she wins a race or a +medal or is praised, she naturally tells her mother, and her mother +naturally rejoices with her, and it is proper that she should; but a wise +mother directs her child's mental attitude to appreciate the fact that +arrogance, selfishness and conceit can win no place worth having in the +world. + + +=CHILDREN AT AFTERNOON TEA= + +A custom in many fashionable houses is to allow children as soon as they +are old enough, to come into the drawing-room or library at tea-time, as +nothing gives them a better opportunity to learn how to behave in +company. Little boys are always taught to bow to visitors; little girls to +curtsy. Small boys are taught to place the individual tables, hand plates +and tea, and pass sandwiches and cakes. If there are no boys, girls +perform this office; very often they both do. When everybody has been +helped, the children are perhaps allowed a piece of cake, which they put +on a tea-plate, and sit down, and eat nicely. But as the tea-hour is very +near their supper time, they are often allowed nothing, and after making +themselves useful, go out of the room again. If many people are present +and the children are not spoken to, they leave the room unobtrusively and +quietly. If only one or two are present, especially those whom the +children know well, they shake hands, and say "Good-by," and walk (not +run) out of the room. + +This is one of the ways in which well-bred people become used from +childhood to instinctive good manners. Unless they are spoken to, they +would not think of speaking or making themselves noticed in any way. Very +little children who have not reached the age of "discretion," which may be +placed at about five, possibly not until six, usually go in the +drawing-room at tea-time only when near relatives or intimate friends of +the family are there. Needless to say that they are always washed and +dressed. Some children wear special afternoon clothes, but usually the +clean clothes put on at tea-time go on again the next morning, except the +thin socks and house slippers which are reserved for the "evening hour" of +their day. + + +=CHILDREN'S PARTIES= + +A small girl (or boy) giving a party should receive with her mother at the +door and greet all her friends as they come in. If it is her birthday and +other children bring her gifts, she must say "Thank you" politely. On no +account must she be allowed to tell a child "I hate dolls," if a friend +has brought her one. She must learn at an early age that as hostess she +must think of her guests rather than herself, and not want the best toys +in the grab-bag or scream because another child gets the prize that is +offered in a contest. If beaten in a game, a little girl, no less than her +brothers, must never cry, or complain that the contest is "not fair" when +she loses. She must try to help her guests have a good time, and not +insist on playing the game she likes instead of those which the other +children suggest. + +When she herself goes to a party, she must say, "How do you do," when she +enters the room, and curtsy to the lady who receives. A boy makes a bow. +They should have equally good manners as when at home, and not try to grab +more than their share of favors or toys. When it is time to go home, they +must say, "Good-by, I had a very good time," or, "Good-by, thank you ever +so much." + + +=THE CHILD'S REPLY= + +If the hostess says, "Good-by, give my love to your mother!" the child +answers, "Yes, Mrs. Smith." In all monosyllabic replies a child must not +say "Yes" or "No" or "What?" A boy in answering a gentleman still uses the +old-fashioned "Yes, sir," "No, sir," "I think so, sir," but ma'am has gone +out of style. Both boys and girls must therefore answer, "No, Mrs. Smith," +"Yes, Miss Jones." A girl says "Yes, Mr. Smith," rather than "sir." All +children should say, "What did you say, mother?" "No, father," "Thank you, +Aunt Kate," "Yes, Uncle Fred," etc. + +They need not insert a name in a long sentence nor with "please," or +"thank you." "Yes, please," or "No, thank you," is quite sufficient. Or in +answering, "I just saw Mary down in the garden," it is not necessary to +add "Mrs. Smith" at the end. + + +=ETIQUETTE FOR GROWN CHILDREN= + +Etiquette for grown children is precisely the same as for grown persons, +excepting that in many ways the manners exacted of young people should be +more "alert" and punctilious. Young girls (and boys of course) should have +the manners of a gentleman rather than those of a lady; in that a +gentleman always rises, relinquishes the best seat and walks last into a +room, whereas these courtesies are shown to, and not observed by ladies +(except to other ladies older than themselves). + +In giving parties, young girls send out their invitations as their mothers +do, and their deportment is the same as that of their debutante sister. +Boys behave as their fathers do, and are equally punctilious in following +the code of honor of all gentlemen. The only details, therefore, not +likely to be described in other chapters of this book, are a few +admonitions on table manners, that are somewhat above "kindergarten" +grade. + + +=THE GRADUATING TESTS IN TABLE MANNERS= + +A young person may be supposed to have graduated from the school of table +etiquette when she, or he, would be able to sit at a formal lunch or +dinner table and find no difficulty in eating properly any of the +comestibles which are supposed to be "hurdles" to the inexpert. + + +=CORN ON THE COB= + +Corn on the cob could be eliminated so far as ever having to eat it in +formal company is concerned, since it is never served at a luncheon or a +dinner; but, if you insist on eating it at home or in a restaurant, to +attack it with as little ferocity as possible, is perhaps the only +direction to be given, since at best it is an ungraceful performance and +to eat it greedily a horrible sight! + + +=ASPARAGUS= + +Although asparagus may be taken in the fingers, don't take a long drooping +stalk, hold it up in the air and catch the end of it in your mouth like a +fish. When the stalks are thin, it is best to cut them in half with the +fork, eating the tips like all fork food; the ends may then be taken in +the fingers and eaten without a dropping fountain effect! Don't squeeze +the stalks, or hold your hand below the end and let the juice run down +your arm. + + +=ARTICHOKES= + +Artichokes are always eaten with the fingers; a leaf at a time is pulled +off and the edible end dipped in the sauce, and then bitten off. + + +=BREAD AND BUTTER= + +Bread should always be broken into small pieces with the fingers before +being eaten. If it is to be buttered (at lunch, breakfast or supper, but +not at dinner) a piece is held on the edge of the bread and butter plate, +or the place plate, and enough butter spread on it for a mouthful or two +at a time, with a small silver "butter knife." Bread must never be held +flat on the palm of the hand and buttered in the air. If the regular steel +knife is used, care must be taken not to smear food from the knife's side +on the butter. Any food that is smeared about is loathsome. People who +have beautiful table manners always keep their places at table neat. +People with disgusting manners get everything in a horrible mess. + + +=THE MANAGEMENT OF BONES AND PITS= + +Terrapin bones, fish bones and grape seed must be eaten quite bare and +clean in the mouth, and removed one at a time between finger and thumb. +All spitting out of bones and pits into the plate is disgusting. + +If food is too hot, quickly take a swallow of water. On no account spit it +out! If food has been taken into your mouth, no matter how you hate it, +you have got to swallow it. It is unforgivable to take anything out of +your mouth that has been put in it, except dry bones, and stones. To spit +anything whatever into the corner of your napkin, is too nauseating to +comment on. It is horrid to see any one spit skins or pits on a fork or +into the plate. The only way to take anything out of your mouth is between +first-finger and thumb. Dry grape seeds or cherry pits can be dropped from +the lips into the cupped hand. Peaches or other very juicy fruits are +peeled and then eaten with knife and fork, but dry fruits, such as +apples, may be cut and then eaten in the fingers. _Never_ wipe hands that +have fruit juice on them on a napkin without first using a finger bowl, +because fruit juices make indelible stains. + + +=BIRDS= + +Birds are not eaten with the fingers in company! You cut off as much of +the meat as you can, and leave the rest on your plate. + + +=FORKS OR FINGERS= + +All juicy or "gooey" fruits or cakes are best eaten with a fork, but in +most cases it is a matter of dexterity. If you are able to eat a peach in +your fingers and not smear your face, let juice run down, or make a +sucking noise, you are the one in a thousand who _may_, and with utmost +propriety, continue the feat. If you can eat a napoleon or a cream puff +and not let the cream ooze out on the far side, you need not use a fork, +but if you can not eat something--no matter what it is--without getting it +all over your fingers, you must use a fork, and if necessary, a knife +also! + +All rules of table manners are made to avoid ugliness; to let any one see +what you have in your mouth is repulsive; to make a noise is to suggest an +animal; to make a mess is disgusting. On the other hand, there are a +number of trifling decrees of etiquette that are merely finical, +unreasonable, and silly. Why one should not cut one's salad in small +pieces if one wants to, makes little sense, unless one wants to cut up a +whole plateful and make the plate messy! A steel knife must not be used +for salad or fruit, because it turns black. To condemn the American custom +of eating a soft-boiled egg in a glass, or cup, because it happens to be +the English fashion to scoop it through the ragged edge of the shell, is +about as reasonable as though we were to proclaim English manners bad +because they tag a breakfast dish, called a "savory" of fish-roe or +something equally inappropriate, after the dessert at dinner. + +Many other arbitrary rules for eating food with fork, spoon or fingers, +are also stumbling-blocks rather than aids to smoothness. As said above, +one eats with a fork or spoon "finger-foods" that are messy and sticky; +one eats with the finger those which are dry. It is true that one should +not eat French fried potatoes or Saratoga chips in fingers, but that is +because they belong to the meat course. Separate vegetable saucers are +never put on a fashionable table, neither is butter allowed at dinner. +Therefore both must be avoided in company, because "company" is formal, +and etiquette is first aid always to formality. But if a man in his own +house likes butter with his dinner or a saucer for his tomatoes, he is +breaking the rule of fashion to have them, but he is scarcely committing +an offense! In the same way, if he likes to eat a chicken wing or a squab +leg in his fingers he can ask for a finger-bowl. The real objection to +eating with the fingers is getting them greasy or sticky, and to suck them +or smear one's napkin is equally unsightly. + + +=ON THE SUBJECT OF ELBOWS= + +Although elbows on the table are seen constantly in highest fashionable +circles, a whole table's length of elbows planted like clothes-line poles +and hands waving glasses or forks about in between, is neither an +attractive nor (fortunately) an accurate picture of a fashionable dinner +table. As a matter of fact, the tolerated elbow-on-table is used only on +occasion and for a reason, and should neither be permitted to children nor +practised in their presence. + +Elbows are universally seen on tables in restaurants, especially when +people are lunching or dining at a small table of two or four, and it is +impossible to make oneself heard above the music by one's table +companions, and at the same time not be heard at other tables nearby, +without leaning far forward. And in leaning forward, a woman's figure +makes a more graceful outline supported on her elbows than doubled forward +over her hands in her lap as though in pain! At home, when there is no +reason for leaning across the table, there is no reason for elbows. And +at a dinner of ceremony, elbows on the table are rarely seen, except at +the ends of the table, where again one has to lean forward in order to +talk to a companion at a distance across the table corner. + +Elbows are _never_ put on the table while one is eating. To sit with the +left elbow propped on the table while eating with the right hand (unless +one is alone and ill), or to prop the right one on the table while lifting +the fork or glass to the mouth, must be avoided. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +EVERY-DAY MANNERS AT HOME + + +Just as no chain is stronger than its weakest link, no manners can be +expected to stand a strain beyond their daily test at home. + +Those who are used to losing their temper in the bosom of their family +will sooner or later lose it in public. Families which exert neither +courtesy nor charm when alone, can no more deceive other people into +believing that either attribute belongs to them than they could hope to +make painted faces look like "real" complexions. + +A mother should exact precisely the same behavior at home and every day, +that she would like her children to display in public, and she herself, if +she expects them to take good manners seriously, must show the same +manners to them alone that she shows to "company." + +A really charming woman exerts her charm nowhere more than upon her +husband and children, and a noble nature through daily though unconscious +example is of course the greatest influence for good that there is in the +world. No preacher, no matter how saint-like his precept or golden his +voice, can equal the home influence of admirable parents. + +It is not merely in such matters as getting up when their mother or other +older relatives enter a room, answering civilly and having good table +manners, but in forming habits of admirable living and thinking that a +parent's example makes or mars. + +If children see temper uncontrolled, hear gossip, uncharitableness and +suspicion of neighbors, witness arrogant sharp-dealing or lax honor, their +own characters can scarcely escape perversion. In the same way others can +not easily fail to be thoroughbred who have never seen or heard their +parents do or say an ignoble thing. + +No child will ever accept a maxim that is preached but not followed by the +preacher. It is a waste of breath for the father to order his Sons to keep +their temper, to behave like gentlemen, or to be good sportsmen, if he +does or is himself none of these things. + +In the present day of rush and hurry, there is little time for "home" +example. To the over-busy or gaily fashionable, "home" might as well be a +railroad station, and members of a family passengers who see each other +only for a few hurried minutes before taking trains in opposite +directions. The days are gone when the family sat in the evening around +the fire, or a "table with a lamp," when it was customary to read aloud or +to talk. Few people "talk well" in these days; fewer read aloud, and fewer +still endure listening to any book literally word by word. + +Railroad station reading is as much in vogue as railroad station bolting +of meals. Magazines--"picture" ones--are all that the hurried have time +for, and even those who profess to "love reading" dart tourist-fashion +from page to page only pausing at attractive paragraphs; and family +relationships are followed somewhat in the same way. + +Any number of busy men scarcely know their children at all, and have not +even stopped to realize that they seldom or never talk to them, never +exert themselves to be sympathetic with them, or in the slightest degree +to influence them. To growl "mornin'," or "Don't, Johnny," or "Be quiet, +Alice!" is very, very far from being "an influence" on your children's +morals, minds or manners. + + +=HOME EDUCATION= + +A Supreme Court Justice whose education had been cut short in his youth by +the Civil War, when asked how, under the circumstances, his scholastic +attainments had been acquired, answered: "My father believed it was the +duty of every gentleman to bequeath the wealth of his intellect, no less +than that of his pocket, to his children. Wealth might be acquired by +'luck,' but proper cultivation was the birthright of every child born of +cultivated parents. We learned Latin and Greek by having him talk and +read them to us. He wrote doggerel rhymes of history which took the place +of Mother Goose. He also told us 'bed-time stories' of history, and read +classics to us after supper. When there was company, we were brought down +from the nursery so that we might profit by the conversation of our +betters." + +Volumes full of "manners" acquired after they are grown are not worth half +so much as the simplest precepts acquired through lifelong habits and +through having known nothing else. + + +=THE OLD GRAY WRAPPER HABIT= + +How many times has one heard some one say: "I won't dress for dinner--no +one is coming in." Or, "That old dress will do!" Old clothes! No manners! +And what is the result? One wife more wonders why her husband neglects +her! Curious how the habit of careless manners and the habit of old +clothes go together. If you doubt it, put the question to yourself: "Who +could possibly have the manners of a queen in a gray flannel wrapper?" And +how many women really lovely and good--especially good--commit esthetic +suicide by letting themselves slide down to where they "feel natural" in +an old gray flannel wrapper, not only actually but mentally. + +The woman of charm in "company" is the woman of fastidiousness at home; +she who dresses for her children and "prinks" for her husband's +home-coming, is sure to greet them with greater charm than she who thinks +whatever she happens to have on is "good enough." Any old thing good +enough for those she loves most! Think of it! + +A certain very lovely lady whose husband is quite as much her lover as in +the days of his courtship, has never in twenty years allowed him to watch +the progress of her toilet, because of her determination never to let him +see her except at her prettiest. Needless to say, he never meets anything +but "prettiest" manners either. No matter how "out of sorts" she may be +feeling, his key in the door is a signal for her to "put aside everything +that is annoying or depressing," with the result that wild horses +couldn't drag his attention from her--all because neither she nor he has +ever slumped into the gray flannel wrapper habit. + +So many people save up all their troubles to pour on the one they most +love, the idea being, seemingly, that no reserves are necessary between +lovers. Nor need there be really. But why, when their house looks out upon +a garden that has charming vistas, must she insist on his looking into the +clothes-yard and the ash-can? She who complains incessantly that this is +wrong, or that hurts, or any other thing worries or vexes her, so that his +inevitable answer to her greeting is, "I'm so sorry, dear," or "That's too +bad," or "Poor darling, it's a shame," is getting mentally into a gray +flannel wrapper! + +If something is seriously wrong, if she is really ill, that is different. +But of the petty things that are only remembered in order to be told to +gain sympathy--beware! + +There is a big deposit of sympathy in the bank of love, but don't draw out +little sums every hour or so--so that by and by, when perhaps you need it +badly, it is all drawn out and you yourself don't know how or on what it +was spent. + +All that has been said to warn a wife from slovenly habits of mind or +dress may be adapted to apply with equal force in suggesting a rule for +husbands. A man should always remember that a woman's regard for him is +founded on her impressions when seeing him at his best. Even granting that +she has no great illusions about men in general, he at his best is at +least an approximation to her ideal--and it is his chief duty never to +fall below the standard he set for himself in making his most cogent +appeal. Consequently he should continue through the years to be scrupulous +about his personal appearance and his clothes, remembering the adage that +the most successful marriages are those in which both parties to the +contract succeed in "keeping up the illusion." It is of importance also +that he refrain from burdening his wife with the cares and worries of his +business day. Many writers insist that the wife should be ready to receive +a complete consignment of all his troubles when the husband comes home at +the end of the day. It is a sounder practise for him to save her as much +as possible from the trials of his business hours; and, incidentally, it +is the best kind of mental training for him to put all business cares +behind him as he closes the door of his office and goes home. When it is +said that a husband should not fling all the day's trifling annoyances +into the lap of his wife without reflecting that she may have some cares +of her own, there is no intention to indicate that a wife should not have +a thorough understanding of her husband's affairs. Complete acquaintance +and sympathy with his work is one of the foundation stones of the domestic +edifice. + + +=THE FAMILY AT TABLE= + +Whether "there is company" or whether the family is alone, the linen must +be as spotless, the silver as clean, and the table as carefully set as +though twenty were coming for dinner. Sloppy service is no more to be +tolerated every day at home than at a dinner party, and in so far as +etiquette is concerned, you should live in exactly the same way whether +there is company or none. "Company manners" and "every-day manners" must +be identical in service as well as family behavior. You may not be able to +afford quantities of flowers in your house and on your table, or perhaps +any, but there is no excuse for wilted flowers or an empty vase that +merely accentuates your table's flowerlessness. There are plenty of table +ornaments that need no flowers. In the same way the compotiers can be +filled with candies or conserves of the "everlasting" variety; +silver-foiled chocolates or nougat, or gum drops or crystalized ginger or +conserved fruits--will keep for months! But the table must be decorated +and a certain form observed at the dinner hour; otherwise gray flannel +wrapper habits become imminent. Letters, newspapers, books have no place +at a dinner table. Reading at table is allowable at breakfast and when +eating alone, but a man and his wife should no more read at lunch or +dinner before each other or their children than they should allow their +children to read before them. + + +=THE TABLE NOT A PLACE FOR PRIVATE DISCUSSION= + +One very bad habit in many families is the discussion of all of their most +intimate affairs at table--entirely forgetting whoever may be waiting on +it; and nine times out of ten those serving in the dining-room see no harm +(if they feel like it) in repeating what is said. Why should they? It +scarcely occurs to them that they were "invisible" and that what was +openly talked about at the table was supposed to be a secret! + +Apart from the stupidity and imprudence of talking before witnesses, it is +bad form to discuss one's private affairs before any one. And it should be +unnecessary to add that a man and his wife who quarrel before their +children or the servants, deprive the former of good breeding through +inheritance, and publish to the latter that they do not belong to the +"better class" through any qualification except the possession of a bank +account. + +Furthermore, parents must never disagree before the children. It simply +can't be! Nor can there be an appeal to one parent against the other by a +child. + +"Father told me to jump down the well!" + +"Then you must do it, dear," is the mother's only possible comment. When +the child has "jumped down the well," she may pull him out promptly, and +she may in private tell her husband what she thinks about his issuing such +orders and stand her own ground against them; but so long as parents are +living under the same roofs that roof must shelter unity of opinion, so +far as any witnesses are concerned. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +TRAVELING AT HOME AND ABROAD + + +To do nothing that can either annoy or offend the sensibilities of others, +sums up the principal rules for conduct under all circumstances--whether +staying at home or traveling. But in order to do nothing that can annoy or +give offense, it is necessary for us to consider the point of view of +those with whom we come in contact; and in traveling abroad it is +necessary to know something of foreign customs which affect the foreign +point of view, if we would be thought a cultivated and charming people +instead of an uncivilized and objectionable one. Before going abroad, +however, let us first take up the subject of travel at home. + +Since it is not likely that any one would go around the world being +deliberately offensive to others, it may be taken for granted that +obnoxious behavior is either the fault of thoughtlessness or +ignorance--and for the former there is no excuse. + + +=ON A RAILROAD TRAIN= + +On a railroad train you should be careful not to assail the nostrils of +fellow passengers with strong odors of any kind. An odor that may seem to +you refreshing, may cause others who dislike it and are "poor travelers" +to suffer really great distress. There is a combination of banana and the +leather smell of a valise containing food, that is to many people an +immediate emetic. The smell of a banana or an orange, is in fact to nearly +all bad travelers the last straw. In America where there are "diners" on +every Pullman train, the food odors are seldom encountered in parlor cars, +but in Europe where railroad carriages are small, one fruit enthusiast can +make his traveling companions more utterly wretched than perhaps he can +imagine. The cigar which is smoldering has, on most women, the same +effect. Certain perfumes that are particularly heavy, make others ill. To +at least half of an average trainful of people, strong odors of one kind +or another are disagreeable if not actually nauseating. + + +=CHILDREN ON TRAINS= + +People with children are most often the food-offenders. Any number not +only let small children eat continuously so that the car is filled with +food odors, but occasional mothers have been known to let a child with +smeary fingers clutch a nearby passenger by the dress or coat and +seemingly think it cunning! Those who can afford it, usually take the +drawing-room and keep the children in it. Those who are to travel in seats +should plan diversions for them ahead of time; since it is unreasonable to +expect little children to sit quietly for hours on end by merely telling +them to "be good." Two little girls on the train to Washington the other +day were crocheting doll's sweaters with balls of worsted in which were +wound wrapped and disguised "prizes." The amount of wool covering each +might take perhaps a half hour to use up. They were allowed the prize only +when the last strand of wool around it was used. They were then occupied +for a while with whatever it was--a little book, or a puzzle, or a game. +When they grew tired of its novelty, they crocheted again until they came +to the next prize. In the end they had also new garments for their dolls. + + +=LADIES DO NOT TRAVEL WITH ESCORTS= + +In a curiously naive book on etiquette appeared a chapter purporting to +give advice to a "lady" traveling for an indefinite number of days with a +gentleman escort! That any lady could go traveling for days under the +protection of a gentleman is at least a novelty in etiquette. As said +elsewhere, in fashionable society an "escort" is unheard of, and in decent +society a lady doesn't go traveling around the country with a gentleman +unless she is outside the pale of society, in which case social +convention, at least, is not concerned with her. + +Ladies are sometimes accompanied on short, direct trips by gentlemen of +their acquaintance, but not for longer than a few hours. + +If a lady traveling alone on a long journey, such as a trip across the +continent, happens to find a gentleman on board whom she knows, she must +not allow him to sit with her in the dining-car more often than a casual +once or twice, nor must she allow him to sit with her or talk to her +enough to give a possible impression that they are together. In fact she +would be more prudent to take her meals by herself, as it is scarcely +worth running the risk of other passengers' criticism for the sake of +having companionship at a meal or two. If, on a short trip, a gentleman +asks a lady, whom he knows, to lunch with him in the dining-car, there is +no reason why she shouldn't. + + +=THE YOUNG WOMAN TRAVELING ALONE= + +In America, a young woman can go across every one of our thousands upon +thousands of railed miles without the slightest risk of a disagreeable +occurrence if she is herself dignified and reserved. She should be +particularly careful if she is young and pretty not to allow strange men +to "scrape an acquaintance" with her. If a stranger happens to offer to +open a window for her, or get her a chair on the observation platform, it +does not give him the right to more than a civil "thank you" from her. If, +in spite of etiquette, she should on a long journey drift into +conversation with an obviously well-behaved youth, she should remember +that talking with him at all is contrary to the proprieties, and that she +must be doubly careful to keep him at a formal distance. There is little +harm in talking of utterly impersonal subjects--but she should avoid +giving him information that is personal. + +Every guardian should also warn a young girl that if, when she alights at +her destination, her friends fail to meet her, she should on no account +accept a stranger's offer, whether man or woman, to drive her to her +destination. The safest thing to do is to walk. If it is too far, and +there is no "official" taxicab agent belonging to the railroad company, +she should go to the ticket seller or some one wearing the railroad +uniform and ask him to select a vehicle for her. She should never--above +all in a strange city where she does not even know her direction--take a +taxi on the street. + + +=REGISTERING IN A HOTEL= + +A gentleman writes in the hotel register: "John Smith, New York." + +Under no circumstances "Mr." or "Hon." if he is alone. But if his wife is +with him, the prefix to their joint names is correct: "Mr. and Mrs. John +Smith, New York." + +He never enters his street and house number. Neither "John Smith and Wife" +nor "John Smith and Family" are good form. If he does not like the "Mr." +before his name he can sign his own without, on one line, and then write +"Mrs. Smith" on the one below. The whole family should be registered: + + John T. Smith, New York + Mrs. Smith, " + and maid + (_if she has brought one_) + + Miss Margaret Smith, " + John T. Smith, Jr., " + Baby and nurse, " + +Or, if the children are young, he writes: + + Mr. & Mrs. John T. Smith, New York, 3 children and nurse. + +A lady never signs her name without "Miss" or "Mrs." in a hotel register: + +"Miss Abigail Titherington" is correct, or "Mrs. John Smith," never "Sarah +Smith." + + +=LADIES ALONE IN AMERICAN HOTELS= + +If you have never been in a hotel alone but you are of sufficient years, +well behaved and dignified in appearance, you need have no fear as to the +treatment you will receive. But you should write to the hotel in +advance--whether here or in Europe. In this country you register in the +office and are shown to your room, or rooms, by a bell-boy--in some hotels +by a bell-boy and a maid. + +One piece of advice: You will not get good service unless you tip +generously. If you do not care for elaborate meals, that is nothing to +your discredit; but you should not go to an expensive hotel, hold a table +that would otherwise be occupied by others who might order a long dinner, +and expect your waiter to be contented with a tip of fifteen cents for +your dollar supper! The rule is ten per cent, beginning with a meal +costing about three or four dollars. A quarter is the smallest possible +tip in a first class hotel. If your meal costs a quarter--you should give +the waiter a quarter. If it costs two dollars or more than two dollars, +you give thirty or thirty-five cents, and ten per cent on a bigger amount. +In smaller hotels tips are less in proportion. Tipping is undoubtedly a +bad system, but it happens to be in force, and that being the case, +travelers have to pay their share of it--if they like the way made smooth +and comfortable. + +A lady traveling alone with her maid (or without one), of necessity has +her meals alone in her own sitting-room, if she has one. If she goes to +the dining-room, she usually takes a book because hotel service seems +endless to one used to meals at home and nothing is duller than to sit +long alone with nothing to do but look at the tablecloth, which is +scarcely diverting, or at other people, which is impolite. + + +=ON THE STEAMER= + +In the days when our great-grandparents went to Europe on a clipper ship +carrying at most a score of voyagers and taking a month perhaps to make +the crossing, those who sat day after day together, and evening after +evening around the cabin lamp, became necessarily friendly; and in many +instances not only for the duration of the voyage but for life. More often +than not, those who had "endured the rigors" of the Atlantic together, +joined forces in engaging the courier who was in those days indispensable, +and set out on their Continental travels in company. Dashing to Europe and +back was scarcely to be imagined, and travelers who had ventured such a +distance, stayed at least a year or more. Also in those slower days of +crawling across the earth's surface by post-chaise and diligence and +horseback, travelers meeting in inns and elsewhere, fell literally on each +other's neck at the sound of an American accent! And each retailed to the +other his news of home; to which was added the news of all whom they had +encountered. It is also from these "traveling ancestors" that families +inherit their Continental visiting lists. Friends they made in Europe, in +turn gave letters of introduction to friends coming later to America. And +to them again their American hosts sent letters by later American friends. + +But to-day when going to Europe is of scarcely greater importance than +going into another State, and when the passenger list numbers hundreds, +"making friends with strangers" is the last thing the great-grandchildren +of those earlier travelers would think of. + +It may be pretty accurately said that the faster and bigger the +ship, the less likely one is to speak to strangers, and yet--as +always--circumstances alter cases. Because the Worldlys, the Oldnames, the +Eminents,--all those who are innately exclusive--never "pick up" +acquaintances on shipboard, it does not follow that no fashionable and +well-born people ever drift into acquaintanceship on European-American +steamers of to-day--but they are at least not apt to do so. Many in fact +take the ocean-crossing as a rest-cure and stay in their cabins the whole +voyage. The Worldlys always have their meals served in their own +"drawing-room" and have their deck chairs placed so that no one is very +near them, and keep to themselves except when they invite friends of their +own to play bridge or take dinner or lunch with them. + +But because the Worldlys and the Eminents--and the Snobsnifts who copy +them--stay in their cabins, sit in segregated chairs and speak to no one +except the handful of their personal friends or acquaintances who happen +to be on board, it does not follow that the Smiths, Joneses and Robinsons +are not enlarging their acquaintance with every revolution of the screws. +And if you happen to like to be talked to by strangers, and if they in +turn like to talk to you, it can not be said that there is any rule of +etiquette against it. + + +=DINING SALOON ETIQUETTE= + +Very fashionable people as a rule travel a great deal, which means that +they are known very well to the head steward, who reserves a table, or +they engage a table for themselves when they get their tickets. Mr. and +Mrs. Gilding for instance, if they know that friends of theirs are sailing +on the same steamer, ask them to sit at their table and ask for a +sufficiently large table on purpose. Or if they are traveling alone, they +arrange to have one of the small tables for two, to themselves. + +People of wide acquaintance in big cities are sure to find friends on +board with whom they can arrange, if they choose, to sit on deck or in the +dining saloon, but most people, unless really intimate friends are on +board, sit wherever the head steward puts them. After a meal or two people +always speak to those sitting next to them. None but the rudest snobs +would sit through meal after meal without ever addressing a word to their +table companions. Well-bred people are always courteous, but that does not +mean that they establish friendships with any strangers who happen to be +placed next to them. + +In crossing the Pacific, people are more generally friendly because the +voyage is so much longer, and on the other long voyages, such as those to +India and South Africa, the entire ship's company become almost as +intimate as in the old clipper days. + + +=THE TACTICS OF THE CLIMBER= + +There are certain constant travelers who, it is said, count on a European +voyage to increase their social acquaintance by just so much each trip! +Richan Vulgar, for instance, has his same especial table every time he +crosses, which is four times a year! Walking through a "steamer train" he +sees a "celebrity," a brilliant, let us say, but unworldly man. Vulgar +annexes him by saying, casually, "Have you a seat at table? Better sit +with me, I always have the table by the door; it is easy to get in and +out." The celebrity accepts, since there is no evidence that he is to be +"featured," and the chances are that he remains unconscious to the end of +time that he served as a decoy. Boarding the steamer, Vulgar sees the +Lovejoys, and pounces: "You must sit at my table! Celebrity and I are +crossing together--he is the most delightful man! I want you to sit next +to him." They think Celebrity sounds very interesting; so, not having +engaged a table for themselves, they say they will be delighted. On the +deck, the Smartlys appear and ask the Lovejoys to sit with them. Vulgar, +who is standing by (he is always standing by) breaks in even without an +introduction and says: "Mr. and Mrs. Lovejoy and Celebrity are sitting at +my table, won't you sit with me also?" If the Smartlys protest they have a +table, he is generally insistent and momentarily overpowering enough to +make them join forces with him. As the Smartlys particularly want to sit +next to the Lovejoys and also like the idea of meeting Celebrity, it ends +in Vulgar's table being a collection of fashionables whom he could not +possibly have gotten together without just such a maneuver. + +The question of what he gets out of it is puzzling since with each hour +the really well-bred people dislike him more and more intensely, and at +the end of a day or so, his table's company are all eating on deck to +avoid him. Perhaps there is some recompense that does not appear on the +surface, but to the casual observer the satisfaction of telling others +that the Smartlys, Lovejoys and Wellborns sat at his table would scarcely +seem worth the effort. + + +=THOSE ACQUISITIVE OF ACQUAINTANCE= + +There is another type of steamer passenger and hotel guest who may, or may +not, be a climber. This one searches out potential acquaintances on the +passenger list and hotel register with the avidity of a bird searching for +worms. You have scarcely found your own stateroom and had your deck chair +placed, when one of them swoops upon you: "I don't know whether you +remember me? I met you in nineteen two, at Countess della Robbia's in +Florence." Your memory being woefully incomplete, there is nothing for you +to say except, "How do you do!" If a few minutes of conversation, which +should be sufficient, proves her to be a lady, you talk to her now and +again throughout the voyage, and may end by liking her very much. If, +however, her speech breaks into expressions which prove her not a lady, +you become engrossed in your book or conversation with another when she +approaches. Often these over-friendly people are grasping, calculating and +objectionable, but sometimes like Ricki Ticki Tavi they are merely +obsessed with a mania to run about and see what is going on in the world. + +For instance, Miss Spinster is one of the best-bred, best-informed, most +charming ladies imaginable. But her mania for people cannot fail on +occasions to put her in a position to be snubbed--never seriously because +she is too obviously a lady for that. But to see her trotting along the +deck and then darting upon a helpless reclining figure, is at least an +illustration of the way some people make friends. It can't be done, of +course, unless you have once known the person you are addressing, or +unless you have a friend in common who, though absent, can serve in +making the introduction. + +As said in "Introductions," introducing oneself is often perfectly +correct. If you, sharing Miss Spinster's love of people, find yourself on +a steamer with the intimate friend of a member of your family, you may +very properly go up and say, "I am going to speak to you because I am +Celia Lovejoy's cousin--I am Mrs. Brown." And Mrs. Norman, who very much +likes Celia Lovejoy, says cordially, "I am so glad you spoke to me, do sit +down, won't you?" But to have your next chair neighbor on deck insist on +talking to you, if you don't want to be talked to, is very annoying, and +it is bad form for her to do so. If you are sitting hour after hour doing +nothing but idly looking in front of you, your neighbor might address a +few remarks to you, and if you receive them with any degree of enthusiasm, +your response may be translated into a willingness to talk. But if you +answer in the merest monosyllables, it should be taken to mean that you +prefer to be left to your own diversions. + +Even if you are agreeable, your neighbor should show tact in not speaking +to you when you are reading or writing, or show no inclination for +conversation. The point is really that no one must do anything to +interfere with the enjoyment of another. Whoever is making the advance, +whether your neighbor or yourself, it must never be more than tentative; +if not at least met halfway, it must be withdrawn at once. That is really +the only rule there is. It should merely be granted that those who do not +care to meet others have just as much right to their seclusion as those +who delight in others have a right to be delighted--as long as that +delight is unmistakably mutual. + + +=STEAMER TIPS= + +Each ordinary first class passenger, now as always, gives ten shillings +($2.50) to the room steward or stewardess, ten shillings to the +dining-room steward, ten shillings to the deck steward, ten shillings to +the lounge steward. Your tip to the head steward and to one of the chefs +depends on whether they have done anything especial for you. If not, you +do not tip them. If you are a bad sailor and have been taking your meals +in your room, you give twenty shillings ($5.00) at least to the stewardess +(or steward, if you are a man). Or if you have eaten your meals on deck, +you give twenty shillings to the deck steward, and ten to his assistant, +and you give five to the bath steward. To any steward who takes pains to +please you, you show by your manner in thanking him that you appreciate +his efforts, as well as by giving him a somewhat more generous tip when +you leave the ship. + +If you like your bath at a certain hour, you would do well to ask your +bath steward for it as soon as you go on board (unless you have a private +bath of your own), since the last persons to speak get the inconvenient +hours--naturally. To many the daily salt bath is the most delightful +feature of the trip. The water is always wonderfully clear and the towels +are heated. + +If you have been ill on the voyage, some ship's doctors send in a bill; +others do not. In the latter case you are not actually obliged to give +them anything, but the generously inclined put the amount of an average +fee in an envelope and leave it for the doctor at the purser's office. + + +=DRESS ON THE STEAMER= + +On the _de luxe_ steamers nearly every one dresses for dinner; some +actually in ball dresses, which is in worst possible taste, and, like all +over-dressing in public places, indicates that they have no other place to +show their finery. People of position never put on formal evening dress on +a steamer, not even in the _a la carte_ restaurant, which is a feature of +the _de luxe_ steamer of size. In the dining saloon they wear afternoon +house dresses--without hats--for dinner. In the restaurant they wear +semi-dinner dresses. Some smart men on the ordinary steamers put on a dark +sack suit for dinner after wearing country clothes all day, but in the _de +luxe_ restaurant they wear Tuxedo coats. No gentleman wears a tail-coat on +shipboard under any circumstances whatsoever. + + +=TRAVELING ABROAD= + +Just as one discordant note makes more impression than all the others that +are correctly played in an entire symphony, so does a discordant incident +stand out and dominate a hundred others that are above criticism, and +therefore unnoticed. + +In every country of Europe and Asia are Americans who combine the +brilliancy which none can deny is the birthright of the newer world, with +the cultivation and good breeding of the old. These Americans of the best +type go all over the world, fitting in so perfectly with their background +that not even the inhabitants notice they are strangers; in other words +they achieve the highest accomplishment possible. + +But in contrast to these, the numberless discordant ones are only too +familiar; one sees them swarming over Europe in bunches, sometimes in +hordes, on regular professionally run tours. This, of course, does not +mean that all personally conducted tourists are anything like them. The +objectionables are loud of voice, loud in manner; they always attract as +much attention as possible to themselves, and wave American flags on all +occasions. + +The American flag is the most wonderful emblem in the whole world, and +ours is the most glorious country too, but that does not mean that it is +good taste to wave our flag for no reason whatever. At a parade or on an +especial day when other people are waving flags, then let us wave ours by +all means--but not otherwise. It does not dignify our flag to make it an +object of ridicule to others, and that is exactly the result of the +ceaseless flaunting of it by a group of people who talk at the top of +their voices, who deliberately assume that the atmosphere belongs to them, +and who behave like noisy, untrained savages trying to "show off." In +hotels, on excursions, steamers and trains, they insist on talking to +everyone, whether everyone wants to talk or not. They are "all over the +place"--there is no other way to express it--and they allow privacy to no +one if they can help it. + +Numberless cultivated Americans traveling in Europe never by any chance +speak English or carry English books on railroad trains, as a protection +against the other type of American who allows no one to travel in the same +compartment and escape conversation. The only way to avoid unwelcome +importunities is literally to take refuge in assuming another nationality. + +Strangely enough, these irrepressibles are seldom encountered at home; +they seem to develop on the steamer and burst into full bloom only on the +beaten tourist trails--which is a pity, because if they only developed at +home instead, we might be intensely annoyed but at least we should not be +mortified before our own citizens about other fellow-citizens. But to a +sensitive American it is far from pleasant to have the country he loves +represented by a tableful of vulgarians noisily attracting the attention +of a whole dining-room, and to have a European say mockingly, "Ah, and +those are your compatriots?" + +Some years ago, a Russian grand duke sitting next to Mrs. Oldname at a +luncheon in a Monte Carlo restaurant, said to her: + +"Your country puzzles me! How can it be possible that it holds without +explosion such antagonistic types as the many charming Americans we are +constantly meeting, and at the same time--" looking at a group who were +actually singing and beating time on their glasses with knives and +forks--"those!" + +A French officer's comment to an American officer with whom he was talking +in a club in Paris, quite unconsciously tells the same tale: + +"You are _liaison_ officer, I suppose, with the Americans? But may I be +permitted to ask why you wear their uniform?" + +The other smiled: "I am an American!" + +"You an American? Impossible! Why, you speak French like a Parisian, you +have the manner of a great gentleman!" (_un grand seigneur_,) which would +indicate that the average American does not speak perfect French nor have +beautiful manners. There is much excuse for not speaking foreign +languages, but there is no excuse whatever for having offensive manners +and riding rough-shod over people who own the land--not we, who seem to +think we do. + +As for "souvenir hunters," perhaps they can explain wherein their +pilfering of another's property differs from petty thieving--a distinction +which the owner can scarcely be expected to understand. Those who write +their names, defacing objects of beauty with their vainglorious smudges +and scribblings, are scarcely less culpable. + +In France, in Spain, in Italy, grace and politeness of manner is as +essential to merest decency as being clothed. In the hotels that are "used +to us" (something of a commentary!) our lack of politeness is tolerated; +but don't think for a moment it is not paid for! The officer referred to +above, who had had the advantage of summer after summer spent in Europe as +a boy, was charged just about half what another must pay who has "the +rudeness of a savage." + +But good manners are good manners everywhere, except that in Latin and +Asiatic countries we must, as it seems to us, exaggerate politeness. We +must, in France and Italy, bow smilingly; we must, in Spain and the East, +bow gravely; but in any event, it is necessary everywhere, except under +the American and British flags, to _bow_--though your bow is often little +more than a slight inclination of the head, and a smile--and to show some +ceremony in addressing people. + +When you go into a shop in France or Italy, you must smile and bow and +say, "Good morning, madam," or "Good evening, monsieur," and "Until we +meet again," when you leave. If you can't say "Au revoir," say "Good +afternoon" in English, but at all events say _something_ in a polite tone +of voice, which is much more important than the words themselves. To be +civilly polite is not difficult--it is merely a matter of remembering. To +fail to say "good morning" to a _concierge_, a chambermaid, or a small +tradesman in France, treating him (or her) as though he did not exist, is +not evidence of your grandeur but of your ignorance. A French duchess +would not _think_ of entering the littlest store without saying, "Good +morning, madame," to its proprietress, and if she is known to her at all, +without making enquiries concerning the health of the various members of +her family. Nor would she fail to say, "Good morning, Auguste," or +"Marie," to her own servants. + + +=EUROPE'S UNFLATTERING OPINION OF US= + +For years we Americans have swarmed over the face of the world, taking it +for granted that the earth's surface belongs to us because we can pay for +it, and it is rather worse than ever since the war, when the advantages of +exchange add bitterness to irritation. + +And yet there are many who are highly indignant when told that, as a type, +we are not at all admired abroad. Instead of being indignant, how much +simpler and better it would be to make ourselves admirable, especially +since it is those who most lack cultivation who are most indignant. The +very well-bred may be mortified and abashed, but they can't be indignant +except with their fellow countrymen who by their shocking behavior make +Europe's criticism just. + +Understanding of, and kind-hearted consideration for the feelings of +others are the basic attributes of good manners. Without observation, +understanding is impossible--even in our own country where the attitude of +our neighbors is much the same as our own. It is not hard to appreciate, +therefore, that to understand the point of view of people entirely foreign +to ourselves, requires intuitive perception as well as cultivation in a +very high degree. + + +=AMERICANS IN EUROPEAN SOCIETY= + +It is only in musical comedy that one can go into a strange city and be +picked out of the crowd and invited to the tables of the high of the land, +because one looks as though one might be agreeable! To see anything of +society in the actual world it is necessary to have friends, either +Americans living or "stationed" or married abroad; or to take letters of +introduction. Taking letters of introduction should never be done +carelessly, because of the obligation that they impose. But to go to a +strange country and see nothing of its social life, is like a blind +person's going to the theater, and the only way a stranger can know people +is through the letters he brings. + +Under ordinary circumstances no knowledge whatsoever beyond the social +amenities the world over are necessary. A dinner abroad is exactly the +same as one here. You enter a room, you bow, you shake hands, you say, +"How do you do." You sit at table, you talk of impersonal things, say +"Good-by" and "Thank you" to your hostess, and you leave. + +The matter of addressing people of title correctly is of little +importance. The beautiful Lady Oldworld (who was Alice Town) was asked one +day by a fellow countryman, what she called this person of title and that +one, and she replied: + +"I'm not sure that I know! Why should I call them at all?" which was a +perfectly sensible answer. One never says anything but "you" to the person +spoken to; and it might be an excellent thing not to know how to speak +about anyone with a title, as it would prevent one's mentioning them. + +Having gone into the subject thus far, however, it may be added that if at +a dinner you are put next to a Duke, if it is necessary to call him +anything except "you," you would say "Duke." Unless you are waiting on the +table instead of sitting at it, you would not say, "Your Grace" and not +even _then_ "My Lord Duke." Neither, unless you are a valet or a +chambermaid, would you say "Your Lordship" to an Earl! If you are a lady, +you call him "Lord Arlington." If you know him really well, you call him +"Arlington." To a knight you say, "Sir Arthur," which sounds familiar, but +there is nothing else you can call him. + +In England a stranger is not supposed to introduce anyone, so that titles +of address are not necessary then either; but if you happen to be the +hostess and French or Americans are present, who like introductions, you +introduce Sir Arthur Dryden to the Duke and Duchess of Overthere, or to +Prince and Princess Capri. In talking to her, the latter would be called +"Princess" and her husband "Prince Capri" or "Prince" or by those who know +him well, "Capri." + + +=PRESENTATION AT COURT= + +Frequently American men are presented at the British Court at levees held +by the King for the purpose. Such men are of course distinguished citizens +who have been in some branch of public service, or who have contributed +something to art, science, history or progress. + +An American lady to be eligible for presentation at a foreign Court should +be either the wife or daughter of a distinguished American citizen or be +herself notable in some branch of learning or accomplishment. + +It is absolutely necessary that such a candidate take letters of +introduction to the American Ambassador,[C] or Minister if in a country +where we have a Legation instead of an Embassy. She would enclose her +letters in a note to the Ambassadress asking that her name be put on the +list for presentation. The propriety of this request is a very difficult +subject to advise upon, in that it is better that the suggestion come from +the Ambassador rather than from oneself. It is, however, perfectly +permissible for one whose presentation is appropriate, but who may perhaps +not know the Ambassador or his wife personally, to do as suggested above. +It must also be remembered that rarely more than three or perhaps five +persons are presented at any one time, so that the difficulty of obtaining +a place on the list is obvious. + +An American lady is presented by the American Ambassadress (or the wife of +the American Minister) or by the wife of the Charge d'Affaires if the +Ambassadress be absent; or occasionally by the Doyenne of the diplomatic +corps at the request of the American Embassy. + +It would be futile to attempt giving details of full court dress or +especial details of etiquette, as these vary not alone with countries, but +with time! If you are about to be presented, you will surely be told all +that is necessary by the person presenting you. These details, after all, +merely comprise the exact length of train or other particulars of dress, +the hour you are to be at such and such a door, where you are to stand, +and how many curtsies or bows you are to make. In all other and essential +particulars you behave as you would in any and every circumstance of +formality. In general outline, however, it would be safe to say that on +the day of the ceremony you drive to the Palace at a specified hour, +wearing specified clothes and carrying your card of invitation in your +hand. Your wraps are left in the carriage (or motor-car), you enter the +Palace and are shown into a room where you wait, and wait and WAIT! until +at last you are admitted to the Audience Chamber where you approach the +receiving Royalties; you curtsy deeply before them and then back out. + +Or else--you stand on an assigned spot while the King or Queen or both +make the tour of those waiting, who curtsy (or bow) deeply at their +approach and again at their withdrawal. + +If you are spoken to at length, you answer as under any other +circumstances, exactly as a polite child answers his elders. You do not +speak unless spoken to. If your answer is long you need say nothing except +the answer; if short, you add "Sir" to the King and "Madam" to the Queen. +This seemingly democratic title is as a matter of fact the correct one for +all Royalty. "Yes, sir." "Very much indeed, Madam." "I think so, Madam." + +[Footnote C: In South America alone, where out of courtesy to those who +also consider themselves "Americans," the Embassies and Legations of our +country are known as those of The United States of America. But in all +other countries of the world we are known simply as "Americans"--it is the +only name we have. We are not United Staters or United Statian--there is +not even a word to apply to us! To speak of the American Minister to this +country or that, and of the American Embassy in Paris for instance, is +entirely correct.] + + +=FOREIGN LANGUAGES= + +In the Latin countries, grace and facility of speech is an object of +lifelong cultivation--and no one is considered an educated person who can +not speak several languages well. Those who speak many fluently, by the +way, are seldom those who constantly interlard their own tongue with words +from another. + +Not to understand any foreign languages would be a decided handicap in +European society, where conversation is very apt to turn polyglot, +beginning in one tongue and going on in a second and ending in a third. So +that one who knows only English is often in the position of a deaf person, +even though Europeans are invariably polite and never let a conversation +run long in a language which all those present do not understand. It might +easily happen that a French lady and an American, neither understanding +the tongue of the other, meet at the house of an Italian, where there is +also an Italian monolinguist, so that the hostess has to talk in three +languages at once. + +It is unreasonable to expect the average American to be a linguist; we are +too far removed from foreign countries. As a matter of fact, if you would +make yourself agreeable, it is much better (unless your facility was +acquired as a child or you have a talent amounting to genius for accent +and construction), to make it a rule when you lunch or dine with Europeans +to talk English, since all Latins acutely suffer at hearing their language +distorted. English, on the other hand, is not beautiful in sound to the +foreign ear; it is a series of esses and shushes, lumped with consonants +like an iron-wheeled cart bumping over a cobble-stoned street. The Latin's +accent in English is annoying even to us at times, but the English accent +in French, Italian or Spanish is murderous! Furthermore, the Latin +passionately loves his language in the way the Westerner loves his city; +he simply can not endure to have it abused, and execrates the person who +does so. And, proportionately, he loves the few who prove they share his +love by speaking it creditably. + + +=TO IMPROVE ONE'S ACCENT= + +If you want to improve your accent, nothing can so help you as going to +the theater abroad until your ears literally absorb the sounds! All people +are imitative. There are few who do not gradually lose the purity of a +good foreign accent when long away from Europe, and all speak more +fluently when their ears become accustomed to the sound. + +The theater is not only the best possible place to hear correctly +enunciated speech, but a play of contemporary life is equally valuable as +a study in manners. There is also a suavity of grace in the way Europeans +bow and stand and sit, and in the way they speak, that is unconsciously +imitated. These "manners" need not--in fact, should not--be gushing or +mincing, but you gradually perceive that jerking ramrod motions and +stalking into a drawing-room like a grenadier are less impressive than +awkward. + + +=THE SPOILED AMERICAN GIRL= + +The subject of American manners, as they appear to Europeans, cannot be +dismissed without comment on a reprehensible type of American girl who +flourishes on shipboard, on tours, and in public places generally--but +most particularly in the large and expensive hotels of Continental +resorts. + +If she and her family have a "home," they are never in it, and if they +have any object in life other than letting her follow her own unhampered +inclinations, it is not apparent to the ordinary observer. Such a girl is +always over-dressed, she wears every fashion in its extremest +exaggeration, she sparkles with jewelry, and reeks of scent, she switches +herself this way and that, and is always posing in public view and playing +to the public gallery. She generally has a small brother who refuses to go +to bed at night, or to stop making the piazza chairs into a train of cars, +or to use the public halls as a skating rink. When he is not making a +noise, he is eating. And his "elegant" sister looks upon him with disdain. + +Sister, meanwhile, jingling with chains and bangles, decked in scarfs and +tulle and earrings, leans on or against whatever happens to be convenient, +flirting with any casual stranger who comes along. She invariably goes to +her meals alone--evidently thinking her parents should be kept apart from +her. She is never away from the Kurhaus or Casino, abroad or the hotel +lobby in America. She is nearly always alone, and the book she is +perpetually reading is always opened at the same page, and she is sure to +look up as you pass. She is very ready to be "picked up" and to confide +her life's history, past, present and future, to any stranger, especially +a young one of the opposite sex. She is rude only to her mother and +father. She is also (we know, but Europe doesn't) a perfectly "good" girl. +Her lack of etiquette is shocking, but her morals are above reproach. She +does not even mean to be rude to her parents, and she has no idea that the +things she does are exactly those which condemn her in the opinion of +strangers. If she were constantly with, and obviously devoted to her +mother, she would make an infinitely better impression, both as to good +form and as to heart, than by segregating herself so that she can be +joined by any haphazard youth who strolls into view, and thereby +cheapening not only herself but the name of the American girl in general. + +Curiously enough, if she marries in Europe, she is apt to "settle down" +and become an altogether admirable example of American-European womanhood, +because she is sound fruit at heart--merely wrapped in tawdry gilt paper +trimming by her adoring but ignorantly unwise parents who, in their effort +to show her off, disguise the very qualities which should have been +accentuated. + + +=LADIES TRAVELING ALONE IN EUROPE= + +Europeans can not possibly understand how any lady of social position can +be without a maid. A lady traveling alone, therefore, has this trifling +handicap to start with. It is a very snobbish opinion, and one who has the +temerity to attempt traveling all by herself has undoubtedly the ability +to see it through. She need after all merely behave with extreme quietness +and dignity and she can go from one end of the world to the other without +molestation or even difficulty--especially if she is anything of a +linguist. + +In going from one place to another, it is wiser to write as long as +possible ahead for accommodations--possibly giving the name of the one (if +any) who recommended the hotel. But in going far off into Asia or other +"difficult" countries, she would better join friends or at least a +personally conducted tour, unless she has the mettle of a Burton or a +Stanley. + + +=MOTORING IN EUROPE= + +Motoring in Europe is perfectly feasible and easy. A car has to be put in +a crate to cross the ocean, but in crossing the channel between England +and France, no difficulty whatever is experienced. All information +necessary can be had at any of the automobile clubs, and in going from one +country to another, you have merely to show your passports at the border +properly vised and pay a deposit to insure your not selling the car out of +the country, which is refunded when you come back. + +Garage charges are reasonable, but gasoline is high. Roads are beautiful, +and traveling--once you have your car--is much cheaper than by train. + +Once off the beaten track, a tourist who has not a working knowledge of +the language of the country he is driving through, is at a disadvantage, +but plenty of people constantly do it, so it is at least not +insurmountable. With English you can go to most places--with English and +French nearly everywhere. The Michelin guide shows you in a little +drawing, exactly the type of hotels you will find in each approaching town +and the price of accommodation, so that you can choose your own stopping +places accordingly. + +"And etiquette?" you ask. There is no etiquette of motoring that differs +from all other etiquette. Except of course not to be a road hog--or a road +pig! People who take up the entire road are not half the offenders that +others are who picnic along the side of it and leave their old papers and +food all over everywhere. For that matter, any one who shoves himself +forward in any situation in life, he who pushes past, bumping into you, +walking over you, in order to get a first seat on a train, or to be the +first off a boat, any one who pushes himself out of his turn, or takes +more than his share, anywhere or of anything--is precisely that sort of an +animal. + + +=ON A CONTINENTAL TRAIN= + +Europeans usually prefer to ride backwards, and as an American prefers to +face the engine, it works out beautifully. It is not etiquette to talk +with fellow passengers, in fact it is very middle-class. If you are in a +smoking carriage (all European carriages are smoking unless marked "Ladies +alone" or "No smoking") and ladies are present, it is polite to ask if you +may smoke. Language is not necessary, as you need merely to look at your +cigar and bow with an interrogatory expression, whereupon your fellow +passengers bow assent and you smoke. + + +=THE PERFECT TRAVELER= + +One might say the perfect traveler is one whose digestion is perfect, +whose disposition is cheerful, who can be enthusiastic under the most +discouraging circumstances, to whom discomfort is of no moment, and who +possesses at least a sense of the ridiculous, if not a real sense of +humor! The perfect traveler furthermore, is one who possesses the virtue +of punctuality; one who has not forgotten something at the last minute, +and whose bags are all packed and down at the hour for the start. Those +who fuss and flurry about being ready, or those whose disposition is +easily upset or who are inclined to be gloomy, should not travel--unless +they go alone. Nothing can spoil a journey more than some one who is +easily put out of temper and who always wants to do something the others +do not. Whether traveling with your family or with comparative strangers, +you must realize that your personal likes and dislikes have at least on +occasion to be subordinated to the likes and dislikes of others; nor can +you always be comfortable, or have good weather, or make perfect +connections, or find everything to your personal satisfaction; and you +only add to your own discomfort and chagrin, as well as to the discomfort +of every one else, by refusing to be philosophical. Those who are bad +sailors should not go on yachting parties; they are always abjectly +wretched, and are of no use to themselves or any one else. Those who hate +walking should not start out on a tramp that is much too far for them and +expect others to turn back when they get tired. They need not "start" to +begin with, but having once started, they must see it through. + +There is no greater test of a man's (or a woman's) "wearing" qualities +than traveling with him. He who is always keen and ready for anything, +delighted with every amusing incident, willing to overlook shortcomings, +and apparently oblivious of discomfort, is, needless to say, the one first +included on the next trip. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +GROWTH OF GOOD TASTE IN AMERICA + + +Good taste or bad is revealed in everything we are, do, or have. Our +speech, manners, dress, and household goods--and even our friends--are +evidences of the propriety of our taste, and all these have been the +subject of this book. Rules of etiquette are nothing more than sign-posts +by which we are guided to the goal of good taste. + +Whether we Americans are drifting toward or from finer perceptions, both +mental and spiritual, is too profound a subject to be taken up except on a +broader scope than that of the present volume. Yet it is a commonplace +remark that older people invariably feel that the younger generation is +speeding swiftly on the road to perdition. But whether the present younger +generation is really any nearer to that frightful end than any previous +one, is a question that we, of the present older generation, are scarcely +qualified to answer. To be sure, manners seem to have grown lax, and many +of the amenities apparently have vanished. But do these things merely seem +so to us because young men of fashion do not pay party calls nowadays and +the young woman of fashion is informal? It is difficult to maintain that +youth to-day is so very different from what it has been in other periods +of the country's history, especially as "the capriciousness of beauty," +the "heartlessness" and "carelessness" of youth, are charges of a too +suspiciously bromidic flavor to carry conviction. + +The present generation is at least ahead of some of its "very proper" +predecessors in that weddings do not have to be set for noon because a +bridegroom's sobriety is not to be counted on later in the day! That young +people of to-day prefer games to conversation scarcely proves +degeneration. That they wear very few clothes is not a symptom of decline. +There have always been recurring cycles of undress, followed by muffling +from shoe-soles to chin. We have not yet reached the undress of Pauline +Bonaparte, so the muffling period may not be due! + +However, leaving out the mooted question whether etiquette may not soon be +a subject for an obituary rather than a guide-book, one thing is certain: +we have advanced prodigiously in esthetic taste. + +Never in the recollection of any one now living has it been so easy to +surround oneself with lovely belongings. Each year's achievement seems to +stride away from that of the year before in producing woodwork, ironwork, +glass, stone, print, paint and textile that is lovelier and lovelier. One +can not go into the shops or pass their windows on the streets without +being impressed with the ever-growing taste of their display. Nor can one +look into the magazines devoted to gardens and houses and +house-furnishings and fail to appreciate the increasing wealth of the +beautiful in environment. + +That such exquisite "best" as America possessed in her Colonial houses and +gardens and furnishings should ever have been discarded for the atrocities +of the period after the Civil War, is comparable to nothing but Titania's +Midsummer Night's Dream madness that made her believe an ass's features +more beautiful than those of Apollo! + +Happily, however, since we never do things by halves, we are studying and +cultivating and buying and making, and trying to forget and overcome that +terrible marriage of our beautiful Colonial ancestress with the +dark-wooded, plush-draped, jig-sawed upstart of vulgarity and ignorance. +In another country her type would be lost in his, forever! But in a +country that sent a million soldiers across three thousand miles of ocean, +in spite of every obstacle and in the twinkling of an eye, why even +comment that good taste is pouring over our land as fast as periodicals, +books and manufacturers can take it. Three thousand miles east and west, +two thousand miles north and south, white tiled bathrooms have sprung like +mushrooms seemingly in a single night, charming houses, enchanting +gardens, beautiful cities, cultivated people, created in thousands upon +thousands of instances in the short span of one generation. Certain great +houses abroad have consummate quality, it is true, but for every one of +these, there are a thousand that are mediocre, even offensive. In our own +country, beautiful houses and appointments flourish like field flowers in +summer; not merely in the occasional gardens of the very rich, but +everywhere. + +And all this means? Merely one more incident added to the many great facts +that prove us a wonderful nation. (But this is an aside merely, and not to +be talked about to anyone except just ourselves!) At the same time it is +no idle boast that the world is at present looking toward America; and +whatever we become is bound to lower or raise the standards of life. The +other countries are old, we are youth personified! We have all youth's +glorious beauty and strength and vitality and courage. If we can keep +these attributes and add finish and understanding and perfect taste in +living and thinking, we need not dwell on the Golden Age that is past, but +believe in the Golden Age that is sure to be. + + + + +=INDEX= + + Acceptance of an invitation, 122-123; + to a formal dinner, 187-188; + to an informal dinner, 125; + to a wedding, 111. + + Acknowledgment of Christmas presents, 407-408; + of wedding presents, 320; + of messages of condolence, 406-408. + + Address, forms of. See: Forms of address. + + Address, notification of, 180; + by bride and groom, 108-109. + + Address on envelopes, 460, 486, 488; + on letters, 450, 455, 460, 461; + on visiting cards, 74-76. + + Afternoon parties, chapter on, 165-176. + + Afternoon teas. See: Teas. + + Ambassador, close of letter to, 456; + function of in presentation at court, 609; + how to address, 488; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 4, 489. + + Americans abroad, 604-616. + + Announcement of a death, 390; + of an engagement, 89, 304-306, 309; + of a second marriage, 108; + of a wedding,106-107. + + Announcing dinner, 217. + + Announcing guests, at afternoon tea, 167; + at dinner, 214-215. + + Answering the door, 145. See also: + "Not at home." + + Anthem, national, 23. + + Apology, form of, 23-24; + letters of, 462-463; + at the theater, 41. + + Archbishop, close of letter to, 489; + how to address, 488; + how to introduce, 489. + + Argumentativeness, 50. + + Arm, etiquette of offering and taking, 30. + + Artichokes, how to eat, 583. + + Asking for a dance, 267, 270. + + Asparagus, how to eat, 582. + + Assemblies, 272-275. + + Assemblyman, 486, 487. + + At home with dancing, invitations to an, 112-116. + + Au revoir, avoidance of use of, 19. + + Automobiles. See: Motoring; Vehicles. + + + Baby, clothes for, at a christening, 385; + letters of thanks for gifts to, 468; + training in table manners, 571. + + Bachelor's apartment, tea in, 292; + dinner, 230, 336-337, 375; + party, 71, 296-298; + theater party, 38. + + Bachelor girl, 295. + + Ball dress, 541, 546-547, 557, 603; + in opera box, 37. + + Ballroom, etiquette in, 258-262; + for an afternoon tea, 167. + + Balls, chapter on, 250-275; + clothes for, 569; + gloves at, 20; + hand-shaking at, 20; + introductions at, 10, 16; + invitations to, 112-116; + for a debutante, 276-279; + public, 271-275. + + Beginning a letter, 492-494. + + Behavior, good, fundamentals of, 506-510. + + Best man, 331, 344; + clothes of, 333; + duties of on wedding day, 345-346; + during the marriage ceremony, 358, 359, 360; + after the marriage ceremony, 361; + in rehearsal, 341, 342; + at the wedding breakfast, 368. + + Best Society, chapter on, 1-3; + definition of, 3. + + Beverages at afternoon teas, 167, 168, + 169, 170, 173, 174; + at ball suppers, 257; + at formal dinners, 205, 209; + at luncheons, 244-245; + at wedding breakfasts, 365, 368. + + Big dinners, 225-226. + + Birds, how to eat, 584, 585. + + Bishop, close of letter to, 489; + how to address, 488; + how to introduce, 5, 489. + + Bones, management of, at table, 583-584. + + Boots, 551, 568. + + Bouquet, bridal, 344, 358, 359; + of bridesmaid, 328. + + Boutonniere, 334, 344, 354, 357, 551, 563. + + Bowing, etiquette of, 20, 21, 23, 24-27, 93, 508; + at court, 610. + + Bread and butter, how to eat, 583. + + Bread and butter letters, 468-470. + + Breakfast, invitations to, 238-239; + for country house guests, 427-429; + wedding, 364-368. + + Bridal procession, 339-342, 357-358. + + Bridal veil, 350, 351. + + Bride, acknowledgment of gifts by, 320-321; + acquiring of social position by, 66-68; + calls of, 66; + calls on, 67-91; + gifts of to bridesmaids, 336; + gifts to by groom, 344; + giving away of, 353, 359; + house of on wedding day, 347-350; + letters of thanks to relatives-in-law, 471; + during the marriage ceremony, 358, 359, 360; + in rehearsal, 338-342; + at the wedding breakfast, 362, 368; + as a chaperon, 289; + as a guest of honor, 11. + + Bride's going away dress, 370. + + Bride's mother, cards left with, 87. + + Bride's parents, 340-342, 353, 357-360, 366; + expenses of for wedding, 377-378. + + Bride's table, 365. + + Bridegroom, 341-342, 357-360; + clothes of, 332, 333; + expenses of, 337, 342-344, 378; + as a guest of honor, 11; + parents of, at wedding reception, 364; + wedding given by, 316-318. + + Bridegroom's mother, card left with, 87. + + Bridesmaids, 328-332, 339-340, 342, 351, 353, 358-361, 368. + + Bridesmaids' luncheon, 335-336. + + Bridesmaids' and ushers' dinner, 336. + + Bridge, 524-527; + introduction at, 12; + invitation to, 124, 128-129. + + Buffet at afternoon teas, 167; + luncheons, 248-249. + + Bundles, carrying of, 29. + + Burials, women at, 327. + + Business etiquette, 530-539; + letters, 455, 460-461; + relations between men and women, 23, 506, 530-532; + suits, 152, 246, 566-567, 570; + visits, 15, 23, 533-534. + + Butler, 142-144, 161-163, 167, 186-187, 201-202, 214, 425. + + Butter, avoidance of at formal dinner, 206, 585. + + + Cabaret, supper at, 293. + + Cabinet, member of, close of letter to, 456, 487; + how to address, 486; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 487. + + Cardinal, close of letter to, 487; + how to address, 486; how to introduce, 4, 487. + + Calls. See: Visits. + + Camp, house party in, chapter on, 440-447; + invitation to, 127. + + Cards, of address, 108; + of admittance to church weddings, 102; + of general invitation, 118; + of introduction to a club, 521; + as invitations, 124, 168, 169; + at funerals, 408; + with gifts, 321, 322; + menu, 210; + place, 210; + visiting, chapter on, 73-97. + + Carriages. See: Vehicles. + + Cars. See: Street cars; Motoring; Vehicles. + + Carving, 229-230. + + Cereal, how to eat, 573. + + Celebrities, afternoon teas in honor of, 168. + + Chaperon, 138; + chapter on, 288-298; + at public balls, 271. + + Chic woman, 542. + + Chicken, how to eat, 584, 585. + + Children, cards of, 78; + conversation about, 49; + invitations to, 459, 460; + parties for, 580-581; + table manners of, 571-582; + training of, 587-588, 592; + at afternoon tea, 579-580; + on railway trains, 594. + + Christenings, chapter on, 380-386. + + Christmas presents, 467-468. + + Church, greetings in, 19-20; + leave-taking at, 20. + + Church weddings, 102-103; 314-316; 339-342; + invitations to, 99-100. + + Cigars. See: Smoking. + + Circus, etiquette at, 46. + + Clergy, how to introduce, 4-5. + + Clergyman, close of letter to, 456, 489; + how to address, 488; + how to introduce, 489; + visiting card of, 78; + wedding fee of, 344. + + Closing a letter, 455-458, 460, 487, 489-490, 494-496. + + Clothes, at an afternoon tea, 165, 547, 556; + at a christening, 385-386; + at a concert, 547; + at a funeral, 408; + at a house party in camp, 441-442; + at luncheon, 246; + at the opera, 35, 547, 549; + at theater, 42-43, 547, 569; + on a visit, 97; + at a wedding, 328-330, 332-334, 556, 569-570; + for a debutante, 281; + for a gentleman, chapter on, 562-570; + for a lady, chapter on, 540-570; + for servants, 138, 140, 143-144, 151-152, 246-247; + for people with limited incomes, 543-545, 553-557. + + Clubs, chapter on, 511-523; + conversation in, 508. + + Colloquial language, 62. + + Colors, passing of the, 23. + + Companion, 138. + + Concert, clothes for, 547. + + Condolence, 406-408; + letters of, 483-485; + visits of, 88, 93. + + Congratulations, to bride and groom, 362; + letters of, 481-483. + + Congressman, 486, 487. + + Consul, 488, 489. + + Contradiction, 50-51. + + Conspicuousness, avoidance of, 28. + + Conventions for the young girl, 292-294. + + Conversation, 506-508; + chapter on, 48-57; + foreign words in, 19; + how to begin, 8; + at afternoon tea, 170; + at dinner, 216, 221, 223-225; + at the home table, 592; + at the opera, 37; + on a railway train, 595; + on a steamer, 599, 600, 602; + on the street, 28; + at the table, 10, 12, 576-577; + at the theater, 40-41; + at a wedding, 355, 362-363; + without an introduction, 10, 12, 599-600. + + Cook, 146-147, 178, 234-235. + + Corn, how to eat, 573. + + Corn on the cob, when to eat, 582. + + Correct usage of words and phrases, 58-62. + + Correspondence. See: Letters. + + Country clothes, 548-550; 568, 570; 603. + + Country clubs, 516-517, 520. + + Country house, chapter on, 410-439; + invitations to, 126; + letters of thanks for visits to, 468-473; + stationery, 451-453. + + Court, presentation at, 609-610. + + Courtship, 299-301. + + Crests, 451. + + Cuff links, 144, 152, 567. + + Cup, use of, 573. + + Cut direct, 26-27. + + Cutaway coat, 246, 332, 566, 569. + + Cutting in at a dance, 269-270. + + + Dances, chapter on, 250-275; + introductions at, 16; + invitations to, 112-116, 124, 128, 251-254, 259-260; + at an afternoon tea, 166; + at a wedding, 369. + + Dating a letter, 453. + + Day dress, 555-556. + + Days at home, 82, 86-87. + + Death, notice of, 387, 390. + + Debts, 506, 509, 523. + + Debutante, 11, 80, 114-116, 252, 257; + chapter on, 276-287. + + Debutante's card, 79; + theater party, 43-46. + + Dessert, 207-209, 573. + + Devices on stationery, 451-453. + + Dining-room, appointments of, 192-194. + + Dining-saloon etiquette, 509-10. + + Dinner, announcement of, 162-163, 217; + clothes for, 546-547, 559, 569, 589, 603; + introductions at, 10, 12-13; + invitations to, 119, 124-125, 128, 188; + seating at, 162, 178-179, 196, 210-212, 229; + taking in to, 12, 217-218; + formal, chapter on, 177-230; + before the opera, 35; + before the theater, 38; + for bridesmaids and ushers; for engaged couples, 305-306; + for parents of groom-elect, 310; + for week-end guests, 418-419; + in camp, 444; + with limited equipment, chapter on, 231-237. + + Dinner coat, 42. + + Dishes, how to present, 206. + + Dishing, 235. + + Divorce, 507, 509. + + Divorced woman, name of, 459; + visiting card of, 78. + + Doctor, how to introduce, 5; + visiting cards of, 78. + + Don'ts for debutantes, 284; + for a hostess at country house, 431-435; + for setting the table, 199-200; + for writing a letter, 493, 502-503, 505. + + Double cards, 79. + + Drawing-room, 94, 184, 214, 224-225. + + Dress. See: Clothes. + + Drinking, 573-574. + + Drinks. See: Beverages. + + Duke, how to address, 608. + + + Earl, how to address, 608. + + Eating difficult foods, 223, 582-585. + + Eggs, how to eat, 574-584. + + Elbows on the table, 585-586. + + Elevator, removal of gentleman's hat in, 22. + + Elopements, 301. + + Engaged couples, afternoon tea in honor of, 168; + dinner for, 305-306; + entertainments for, 304; + photographs of in newspapers, 304; + visits of, 32. + See also: Fiancee. + + + Engagements, chapter on, 299-311; + announcement of, 89; + congratulations on, 481-482; + letters to relatives on, 303. + + Engraved cards of thanks, 474; + pew cards, 103; + visiting cards, 73-76. + + English clothes, 553, 561-562. + + Entertainments, introductions at, 10; + service at, 159-164; + after dinner, 225; + at camp, 445-446; + at country house, 430, 433-434; + for engaged couples, 304. + + Envelopes, 450, 454. + + Escorts, 31-32, 594-595. + + Etiquette, scope of, 3. + + European travel, 604-616. + + Evening clothes, 144, 281, 318, 549, 557, 559, 563-564, 603. + + Expenses, clothing, 543-545, 553-557; + funeral, 390-391; + wedding, 317, 329, 342-344, 376-378. + + Ex-President of the United States, how to introduce, 5. + + Family affairs, conversation about, 49, 506-507, 509, 592. + + Fare, payment of, 31. + + Fashion, 541-543, 557-558. + + Father's consent to an engagement, 301. + + Fiancee, asking invitations for to a ball, 253; + etiquette for, 308; + gifts to by groom-elect, 310-311; + visits of, 95; + visits to, 88, 303. + + Finger bowl, 208-209, 585. + + Finger food, 582-585. + + Flower girls, 330, 358. + + Flowers, cards with, 79; + for debutante, 277-278; + for fiancee, 310-311; + for funerals, 394-395; + for the guest room, 417; + for the table, 193, 195, 591; + for a wedding, 315-316, 348-349. + + Folding a note, 454. + + Food, at an afternoon tea, 167-170, 172-173; + at a ball supper, 256-257; + in camp, 444-445; + for country house guests, 418, 427-428; + for formal dinner, 184, 188-190, 232-235; + for luncheon, 243-244; + on a train, 592-593; + for a wedding breakfast, 365, 368; + how to eat difficult foods, 223, 582-585. + + Footmen, house, 144-146. + + Foreign language, 610-612. + + Foreigners, shaking hands with, 20; + titled, how to address, 608-609; + how to announce as guests, 215; + letters to, 490. + + Fork, 196-197, 203-204; + use of, 573-575, 584-585. + + Forms of address, 455, 486-489, 608-609. + + Frock coat, 332, 566, 569. + + Full dress, 35, 42, 569. + + Funerals, chapter on, 387-409. + + Furnishings, of a camp, 443; + of a dining-room, 192-194; + of a guest room, 414-417. + + Furniture, 132-135. + + Games, 12; + outdoor, 46-47; + and sports, chapter on, 524-529. + See also: Entertainments. + + Garden party, 174-175; + dress for, 556. + + Gentleman, The, 506-508. + + Gentleman's stick, 22, 143, 45, 358, 360, 564. + + Gifts, Christmas, 468; + wedding, 319-323; + to baby, 382, 468; + to bride by groom, 344; + to bridesmaids, 336; + to engaged couple, 306; + to fiancee by groom-elect, 310-311; + to wedding ushers, 337; + of tickets for balls, concerts, etc., 43. + + Girls. See: Young girl. + + Gloves, 220, 246, 333-334, 344, 357, 544, 552, 554-556, 563; + removal of when shaking hands, 20; + bridegroom's, 333; + white, when worn by a gentleman, 35. + + Godparents, 380-382. + + Golf, 527.528; + invitation to, 128; + clubs, 517. + + Good-bys. See: Leave taking. + + Governor, close of letter to, 487; + how to address, 486; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 487. + + Greetings, chapter on, 18-21; + abroad, 606-607; + to mourners, 399. + + Guest cards, 417-418; + lists, 186-187; + rooms, 413-417, 425-427. + + Guests, announcement of, 161-162, 214-215; + introduction of, 11-12, 487, 489; + selection of, 72; + to country house, 419-420; + to debutante's party, 280; + to formal dinner, 178, 185-186; + to a wedding, 312-314; + tipping by, 426-427. + + Guests, distinguished, 11, 216. + + Guests at an afternoon tea, 170; + at a christening, 380, 383; + at a country house, 410-412, 429-431, 435-439, 470; + at a club, 520-523; + at a formal dinner, 184, 210-212; + at a garden party, 175; + at luncheon, 240; + in opera box, 35; + on private car, 439; + on yacht, 439. + See also: Precedence;--Seating. + + + Handwriting, 448-449, 460. + + Hanging the bell, 390. + + Hat, 35, 245-246, 357, 544, 549, 555-556, 564, 566; + lifting of, 23-24; + removal of by a gentleman, 22-23, 25. + + Headdress, 42, 319, 347, 544, 546-547, 552. + + Healths to the bride, 337; + to an engaged couple, 305. + + "Hello" as a greeting, 19-20. + + Home, manners in the, 587-592. + + Hospitality at parties, 175-176; + in a country house, chapter on, 410-439. + + Host, bachelor as, 295-298; + payment of restaurant checks by, 32; + introductions by, 12; + at a ball, 260; + at a country house, 429; + at a dinner, 184, 211-212, 217; + at a garden party, 175. + + Hostess, manners of, 218; + payment of restaurant checks by, 32; + presentation to at a dance or at the opera, 12. + + Hostess at an afternoon tea, 167-170; + at a ball, 258-259; + in a country house, 411-413, 431-435; + at a dinner, 177-184, 210-212, 215-220, 227; + at a garden party, 175; + at a luncheon, 240. + + Hotels, 596-597. + + Hour, dinner, 201; + wedding, 314, 318-319; + week-end party, 411. + + House, the well-appointed, chapter on, 131-164; + formal entertaining in, 159-164; + furniture in, 132-135; + organization of, 145-155; + servants in, 155-159; + service in, 135-145. + + House party, introductions at, 10; + invitations to, 124, 130; + bachelor's, 296-298; + camp, 440-447, + country house, 411-439. + + House suit, 565. + + House wedding, 373-375. + + Housekeeper, 140-141. + + Housemaid, 148, 425-426. + + Hunting clubs, 517. + + Husband and wife, 54, 214, 413, 507, + 509, 589-591. + + + Ice cream as dessert, 207-208. + + Initials, in the signature of a letter, 458; + on visiting cards, 76-77; + on wedding presents, 322-323. + + "Introduce," when used in introductions, 4. + + Introductions, chapter on, 4-17; + greetings at, 18-19; + letters of, 16-17, 475-478; + at a ball, 10, 16; + at bridge, 12; + at a dinner, 10, 12-13; + at a house party; + at a luncheon, 9-10; + at the opera, 36; + on a steamer, 601-602; + on the street, 13; + at a wedding, 11, 363; + of guests of honor, 11; + of important personages, 487, 489; + of titled foreigners, 608-609; + of a visitor to a club, 520-522; + self, 12, 602. + + Invalids, return visits of, 96; + visits to, 88, 93. + + Invitations, chapter on, 98-130; + asking for, 117-118; + cards in connection with, 83-84, 87, 118, 124, 168, 169; + by a chaperon, 291; + by telephone, 128-130, 238-239, 380; + to an at home with dancing, 112-116; + to a bachelor's party, 297-298; + to a ball or dance, 112-116, 124, 128, 251-254, 259-260; + to a breakfast, 238-239; + to bridge, 124, 128-129; + to camp, 127; + to children, 459-460; + to a christening, 380; + to country house, 419; + to a dinner, 119, 124-125, 128, 188; + to golf, 128; + to a luncheon, 120, 125-126, 238-239; + to a picnic, 124-128; + to a house party, 124, 130; + to a reception, 119; + to theater, 38-39; + to a wedding, 98-109, 111, 312-314; + to a wedding anniversary, 110. + See also: Guests, selection of. + + Jewelry, 144, 544, 546-548, 567, 612; + for the bride, 344; + of mourners, 401; + at the opera, 37; + at the theater, 42. + + Journeys of engaged couples, 310. + + Judge, how to introduce, 5; + visiting cards of, 78. + + Justice of the Supreme Court, close of letter to 487; + how to address, 486; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 487. + + + Keeping dinner engagements, 187-188. + + King. See: Court; Royalty. + + Kissing, 96, 307, 362-363. + + Kitchen-maid, 147-148. + + Knife, 207; + use of, 574-575. + + Knight, how to address, 608. + + + Lady traveling alone in Europe, 613-614. + + Lady's maid, 150, 425. + + Language, 58-64, 610-612. + + Leave taking, at church, 20; + after dinner, 226-227; + after an introduction, 9, 19; + after a luncheon, 247; + after the opera, 37; + after a visit, 97. + + Letters, chapter on, 491-505; + shorter, chapter on, 448-491. + See also specific subjects, e.g.: Beginning a letter; + Condolence, letters of; Address on envelopes. + + Liquid food, 573-574. + + Little dinner, 228-229. + + Livery of footmen, 143-146; + mourning, 406. + + Living alone by young girls or women, 289, 294. + + Love letters, 502-504. + + Luncheon, chapter on, 258-249; + introductions at, 9-10, 12; + invitations to, 120, 125-126, 238-239; + bridesmaids, 238-239. + + Maid of honor at a wedding, 328, 330, 339, 351, 353, 358-360. + + Management of servants, 155-159. + + Manners, 530-539; + definition of, 2; + in clubs, 518-520; + at home, 587-592; + at the table, 371-586; + at the theater, 40-43; + of Americans abroad, 604-607, 612-613; + of a hostess, 218-219. + + Married couples. See: Husband and wife; + young couples. + + Married woman, how to introduce, 6; + how to shake hands with, 20; + name of, 458-459; + visiting card of, 77. + See also: Husband and wife. + + Mayor, close of letter to, 487; + how to address, 486; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 487. + + Meeting, at church, 19-20; + in the Street, 20. + + Men and women, relations between, 292-293, 502-303, 505-509. + + Menus. See: Beverages; Food. + + Menu cards, 210. + + Military officer, visiting card of, 78. + + Minister Plenipotentiary, 215, 488-489. + + Mr. and Mrs. in conversation, 54; + Money, conversation about, 506; + and social position, 71-72, 410. + + Motoring, 128, 293, 614-615. + + Mourners, how to address, 399. + + Mourning, 399-406; + bridesmaid in, 329; + for funeral, 392-393; + stationery, 453. + + Moving pictures, 40, 293. + + Music at a ball, 225; + at a dinner, 250, 251; + at a funeral, 396; + at a wedding, 315-316, 338-342, 357-359. + + Musicale, 124. + + + Names, 54, 76-78, 458-459, 508. + + Napkin ring, 204. + + Napkins, 220-221, 241, 444, 575. + + National anthem, 23. + + Neighbors, new, afternoon tea in honor of, 168. + See also: Strangers, 168. + + Newspapers, 304, 390, 417, 509. + + "Not at home," 84-86. + + Note of apology, 462-463. + + Nurse, 152-153. + + + Office buildings, etiquette in, 22. + + Open air gatherings, 46. + + Opera, 12, 20, 310, 546-547, 569; + chapter on, 33-37. + + Orange blossoms at second marriage, 375. + + + P.P.C. cards, 79. + + Packages, 29. + + Pall bearers, 391-392, 569. + + Paris clothes, 353, 539-561. + + Parlor maid, 148. + + Party calls, 81. + + Parties, attendance of a lady at, 32; + kissing at, 96; + non-return of, 71; + afternoon, chapter on, 165-176; + children's, 580-581; + engaged couples, 306-307; + opera, 35; + theater, 38, 43. + See also: House party. + + Passing of colors, removal of hat at, 23. + + Payment, etiquette of, 31. + See also: Debts. + + Peas, how to eat, 573. + + Personal letters, 455. + + Persons of rank. See: Rank, persons of. + + Pew cards, 102-103, 356. + + Photographs of engaged couples in newspapers, 304. + + Picnics, 34, 124, 128. + + Pits, management of, at table, 584. + + Place cards, 128, 210. + + Plates, 200, 202-204, 242. + + Politeness to servants, 153-154. + + Political clubs, 517. + + Politics, etiquette of, 530-539. + + Position in the community, 410; + chapter on, 65-72. + + Precedence, 40, 204-205, 214-215, 360-361. + + Presentation at court, 609-610. + + "Present," when used in introductions, 4. + + President of the United States, + close of letter to, 456, 487, 490; + as a guest, 214, 430; + how to address, 486; + introduction of and to, 4, 5, 487. + + Priest, 488-489. + + Private affairs, conversation about, 592. + + Private car, guests on, 439. + + Private secretary, 139. + + Pronunciation, 62-64. + + Public places, 96, 307, + chapter on, 28-34. + + Punctuality, 46, 219-220. + + Pusher, nursery, 571.573. + + + Rabbi, 488-489. + + Rank, persons of, + how to announce as guests, 214-215; + how to address, 486, 488; + how to introduce, 487, 489; + close of letter to, 487-489. + + Reading at table, 591. + + Ready-to-wear clothes, 557, 562. + + Receptions, 10, 119, 165, 168. + + Recommendation, letters of, 479-481. + + Referring to husband or wife in conversation, 54. + + Regard for others, rules of, 34. + + Registering at a hotel, 346, 596-597. + + Rehearsal of a wedding, 338-342. + + Restaurants, + clothes in, 556, 569; + dinner in before the theater, 38; + engaged couples in, 310; + headdress in, 546; + payment in, 32; + rising in to greet a lady, 23; + young girl in, 293. + + Riding clothes, 550-552. + + Rings, 544, 567; + engagement, 302-303, 311; + wedding, 343, 346, 359. + + Rising, + to a lady, 22-23; + to relatives, 587; + from table, 577. + + Royalty, + how to address, 610; + letters to, 490; + presentation to, 4, 609-610. + + + Salutations, 461; + chapter on, 22-27. + + Seating, + at an afternoon tea, 168, 170; + at a ball supper, 256; + in drawing-room, 94-95; + at a formal dinner, 162, 178-179, 196, 210-212; + at a funeral in church, 409; + at an informal dinner, 229; + in an opera box, 35-36; + at a wedding in church, 354-357; + in a steamer dining-salon, 599-600; + at the theater, 40-41; + in vehicles, 30-31; + of children at table, 575. + + Second marriage, 107-108, 375-376. + + Secretary, 138-140, 178. + + Self-introduction, 12, 602. + + Senator, 5, 214, 486-487. + + Servants, 135-138, 141-164; + attitude to, 438-439, 510; + at formal dinner, 184; + in country house, 420-421, 425-427. + + Service, + in country house guest room, 425-427; + in the well-appointed house, 135-164; + dinner, 200-209, 236-237. + + Serving table, 206-207. + + Serving tea, 168-171, 173-174. + + Setting the table, 194-200, 591. + + Shaking hands, 20-21; + at an afternoon tea, 167; + at a formal dinner, 215; + on a visit, 93; + at a wedding, 362-363; + when introduced, 7-8, 9, 12. + + Shirt, 143, 334, 568. + + Shirt studs, 144, 152, 567. + + Shirt waist, 151, 549, 556. + + Shoes, 333, 549, 555, 558, 564, 566, 568. + + Shops, etiquette in, 33. + + Sickness. See: Invalids. + + Signature of a letter, 458-459. + + Silk hat, 564, 566. + + Silver, 198-199. + + Sitting up with the deceased, 393. + + Sitting down at the table, 577. + + Skirt, 151, 548, 549, 552, 556, 558. + + Slang, 62. + + Sleeping arrangements in country house, 413. + + Slippers, 549, 555. + + Smart society, 2. + + Smoking, 22, 28, 47, 209, 223-224, 530, 594. + + Social letters, 455-456, 461-463. + + Social position. See: Position in the community. + + Society, best, + chapter on, 1-3; + definition of, 3; + smart, 2. + + Speech, 64. + + Speaking to a lady, 22-23. + + Spoon, 197; + Use of, 571, 573. + + Sports clothes, 548. + + Sports clubs, 517. + + Stag dinner, 230. + + Stand-up luncheons, 248, 249. + + Steamer etiquette, 598-603. + + Stores, etiquette in, 27, 33. + + Story telling, 50. + + Strangers, + cards left with, 83; + invitations for, 117, 254; + social position of, 67-70; + visits, 70-71, 83, 90; + at afternoon tea, 170. + + Street, chapter on the, 28-34. + + Street car etiquette, 23-24. + + Street clothes, 548. + + Subscription dances, 272-275. + + Summer dress, 549, 556. + + Sunburn, dress for women who mind, 549-550. + + Superscription in letters, 459, 460. + + Supper, 249; + at a ball, 255-257; + at a cabaret, 293; + after theater, 45. + + + Table, + dinner, 191, 591; + luncheon, 240-242; + supper, 249; + tea, 167-174. + + Table + furnishings, 184, 591; + hostess, 169-170; + manners, 220-224, 571-586; + setting, 180-181, 194-200, 591. + + Tail Coat, 35. + + Taking leave. See: Leave taking. + + Tea gown, 547. + + Teas, chapter on, 165-176; + clothes for, 165, 547, 556; + invitations to, 119, 124; + bachelor's, 292; + children's, 579-580. + + + Telephone, invitation by, 128-130, 238-239, 380. + + Tennis, 128. + + Thanks, cards of, 474; + letters of, 463, 475. + + Theater, 31, 38-46, 310, 547, 569, 611-612. + + Third person in correspondence, 478-479. + + Tickets for theater, opera, etc., 39-40, 43. + + Tie, gentleman's, 35, 143-144, 246, 333-334, 363, 565-566. + + Tips, in a hotel, 597; + to servants, 426-427; + on steamboats, 602-603. + + Titled foreigners, 215, 490, 607-608. + + Titles, 5, 486-489; + on visiting cards, 76-78. + + Topics of conversation, 51, 55-56. + + Train card, 105. + + Train of a dress, 547. + + Trains, railway, 31, 593-596, 615. + + Traveling, chapter on, 593-616. + See also specific subjects, e.g.: Young girl, traveling of. + + Traveling clothes, 351, 559. + + Trousers, 143, 246, 332, 334, 564-565, 567, 569. + + Trousseau, 323-327, 332-333. + + Tuxedo, 42, 564-565, 569, 603. + + + Uniforms of servants, 148-150. + + Ushers, at a ball, 265; + at a wedding, 331, 333-335, 337, 339-340, 342, 354-356, 368, 569. + + Valet, 143, 152, 425-426, 441-442, 608. + + Vegetables, how to eat, 575. + + Vehicles, 30-31; + at a formal dinner, 162-163, 212; + at a funeral, 395-396; + at the opera, 37; + at the theater, 39; + at a wedding, 353-361. + + Veil, 246, 549; + bridal, 350-351; + mourning, 399-401. + + Vice-President of the United States, + close of letter to, 487, 490; + how to address, 486; + how to announce as a guest, 214; + how to introduce, 487. + + + Visits, 36, 70-71, 302-303, 310; + chapter on, 73-97. + See also specific subjects, + e.g.: Engaged couples, visits of. + + Visiting cards. See: Cards. + + Vulgar woman, the, 544.345. + + + Waistcoat, 35, 143, 246, 333, 563, 565-566. + + Walking, across a ballroom, 261-262; + down the aisle of a theater, 40; + with a lady, 28. + + Watch chain, 567. + + Wealth, display of, 506. + + Wedding anniversaries, 110, 378-379; + announcements, 106-107; + breakfast, 364-368; + ceremony, 357-358; + day, chapter on, 345-379; + dress, 350-351; + expenses, 317, 329, 342-344, 376-378; + list, 313-314, + pictures, 352; + preparations, 312-344; 347-352; + presents, 79, 319-323, 464-467; + trip, 342-343, 345-346. + + Weddings, 19, 20; + clothes for, 328-330, 332-334, 556, 569-570; + guest rooms at, 413; + invitations to, 98-109, 111; 312-314. + See also: Bride; Bridegroom; and other specific subjects. + + White blossoms at second marriage, 375. + + Widow, 77, 107, 375, 402. + + Wife. See: Husband and wife. + + Woman's clubs, 514, 517-318. + + Words and phrases, correct usage of, 58-62. + + Writing paper, 449-453. + + Written invitations, 120.121, 124.127. + + + Yacht, guests on, 439. + + Young couples, 71, 471. + + Young girl, 288-298; + guest room for, 413; + letters of, 502-503; + traveling of, 595-596, 612-613. + + Young person, introduction of to older, 4; + greetings of to older, 21. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Etiquette, by Emily Post + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ETIQUETTE *** + +***** This file should be named 14314.txt or 14314.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/3/1/14314/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, "Costello and Abbott" and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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