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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. !

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HAND-BOOKS OF SOCIETY.

DIAMOND EDITION:''

Beautifully Printed, Bound, and put up in a Box.
Price $3.00.

I.
The Art of Conversation.

With Directions for Self -Culture. An admirably conceived and entertaining
book — sensible, instructive, and full of excellent suggestions.

f . II.

The Habits of Good Society.

A Hand-book for Ladies and Gentlemen, concerning points of taste and
good manners, and the art of maldng one's self agreeable.

III.
Arts of Writing, Reading, and Speaking.

An attractive work for teaching not only the beginner, but for perfecting
every one in these most desirable accomplishments.

These three hooks are the most perfect and complete of their kind ever
published. They are made up of no dry, stupid rules that
everybody knows, but are fresh, sensible, good-
humored, entertaining, and readable.

G. W. CARLETON & CO., PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK.

DIAMOND EDITION.

THE

HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY:

A HANDBOOK

FOR

i^EfriUs anir (§>t\xilixatvt.

WITII

THOUGHTS, HINTS, AND ANECDOTES CONCERNING SOCIAL OBSERVANCES, NICB

POINTS OF TASTE AND GOOD MANNERS, AND THE ART OF MAKING

ONE'S SELF AGREEABLE. THE WHOLE INTERSPERSED WITH

HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATIONS OF SOCIAL PREDICAMENTS,

REMARKS ON FASHION, ETC.

NEW YORK:
G. W. Carleton £s? Co.y Publishers.

M.DCCC.LXXII.

?\^

■

>V

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

a. W. CARLETON & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Stereotyped at the

WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE,

Corner Avenue A and Eighth Street,

New York.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Thoughts on Society and the Spirit of Social Ob-
servances 11

Manners :

How can they be acquired ?
Different means investigated.
Necessity of some Guide.
Ancient and Modern Authorities on

Manners.
The true principle of Manners.
What is Society f
The necessity of Social Intercourse.

Three Classes of Bad Society:

1. Low Society, distinguished by Famil-
iarity.

Anecdotes of Extreme Familiarity in the

last Three Centuries.
Familiarity from want of Respect ; from
Coarseness; from Shyness; from Curi-
osity.

2. Vulgar Society, distinguished by pre-
tension; Gentility; Servility; Over-
scrupulousness; Assumption of Re-
finement in Language and in Habits.

3. Dangerous Society :

Sketch of English Society from the Six-
teenth Century.

Rise and present position of the Middle
Classes.

The Requisites op Good Society :

Good Breeding.

Education.

Cultivation of Taste.

Reason.

The Art of Speech.

A Knowledge of English Literature

Moral Character.

Temper.

Hospitality.

Good Manners.

Birth.

Wealth.

Rank.

Distinction,.

VI

CONTENTS,

The Spirit of social Observances:

The Connection between the Laws
Christianity and those of Society.
Domestic Position.
Paterfamilias.

of

The Matron.

The Young Married Man.

The Bachelor.

The Young Lady.

The Art of Making One's self Agreeable.

PART I.— THE INDIVIDUAL.
CHAPTER I.— The Dressing Room

Cleanliness.

The Bath : Hot, Cold, and Tepid.

The Teeth.

The Nails.

Bazors and Shaving.

Beards, Moustaches, Whiskers.

The Hair.

PAGE

80

CHAPTER, II.— The Lady's Toilet

96

Early rising.

Cleanliness.

Exercise.

Rouge and Cosmetics.

The Hair.

Perfumes, Toilet Appliances, etc.

CHAPTER III.— Dress 104

Fashion ; Appropriateness to Age, to Po-
sition ; to Place ; Town and Country .
on the Continent; to Climate; to
Size ; to different occasions.

Extravagance.

Simplicity.

Jewellery.

Maxims for Ornaments.

Orders, etc.

Cleanliness and Freshness.

Linen.

Seasonable Dress.

Estimate of a Wardrobe.

Morning Dress at Home.

Dress for Walking.

Dress for Visits.

Dress for Dinner Parties.

Dress for Evening Parties and Balls.

The Hat.

Well-dressed and Ill-dressed.

Fast-dressing.

Different Styles of Dress.

CONTENTS.

Vll

The Love of Dress.

Country Dress.

Extravagance, Pecuniary, and in

Carriage and Visiting Dress.

Fashion.

Evening Costume at Home.

Modern Dress, Stays, Tightness, &c.

Dinner Dress.

Dress and Feeling.

Evening Party Dress.

The Ordinary In-door Dress.

Ball Dress.

The Ordinary Out-door Dress.

Biding Dress.

APTER, V. — Accomplishments

PAGE

133

160

Their Value.

Self-defence — Boxing.

The Sword and the Fist.

Duelling.

Field Sports.

Biding.

Mounting.

Assisting a Lady to Mount.

Driving.

Dancing.

Quadrilles.

Bound dances.

Hints on Dancing.

The Valtz.

Polka.

Other Dances.

The Piano.

Music in General.

Singing.

Cards.

Bound Games.

Languages.

Knowledge of Current Affairs.

Carving :

Hints on Carving and Helping.

Soup.

Fish.

Joints (Beef, Mutton, Lamb, Veal,

Pork, Ham, Venison).
Animals served whole.
Fowls, Game, Goose, Turkey, etc.

CHAPTER VI.— Feminine Accomplishments

200

Their Necessity.

Social and Domestic Value.

Music.

Choice of Instruments.

Singing.

Age a restriction.

Choice of Songs.

Etiquette of Singing and Playing.

Appropriateness.

German and Italian Singing.

Working.

Working Parties Abroad.

Appropriateness of Work.

Vlll

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII— Manners, Carriage, and Habits.

208

The necessity for Laws of Etiquette.

Manner : value of a good one.

Rules for preserving it.

Self-respect.

Affectation.

Different kinds of Manner to oe

avoided.
A change of Manner demanded by

circumstances.
Carriage.

Dignity.

Physical Carriage, and how a man

should walk.
The Smile.

Vehement Action to be avoided.
Certain Bad Habits.
Smoking discussed.
Etiquette thereof.
A Lecture on Eating and Drinking

at Dinner, and Habits at Meals.

CHAPTER VIII.— The Carriage op a Lady 231

Its Importance to the Sex.

Young Ladies.

Modesty.

Agreeableness.

Politeness.

Dignity.

Delicacy of Language.

Temper.

Fastness, Flirting, etc.

The Prude and the Blue Stocking.

Bearing of Married Women.

French Manners.

The Physical Carriage of Ladies.

PAKT II.— THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDIVIDUAL

KELATIONS.

CHAPTER IX.-^In Public 241

The Promenade.

The "Cut."

Its Folly and objectionable character.

Sometimes necessary.

Should be made Inoffensively.

Etiquette of the "Cut."

Different Modes of Salutation.

Kissing.

Shaking Hands.

Various Ways of doing so.

Walking and Driving with Ladies.

Etiquette of Railway Travelling.

CONTENTS.

IX

PAGE

APTER X— In Peivate

. 253

The Visit.

Hours for Visits.

Proper Time and Occasions for Vis-

The Cards.

iting.

Etiquette in Calling.

Introduction by Letters.

"Not at Home."

Visits of Condolence and Congratu-

Visits in G-ood Society.

lation.

Visits in Country Houses.

PART III.— THE INDIVIDUAL IN COMPANY.

CHAPTER XI.— Dinners, Diners, and Dinner-Parties. 263

Dinner Parties:
By whom and to whom given.
Selection of Guests.
Their Number.
The Dining-room.
Its Furniture and Temperature.
The Shape of the Table.
Lighting.
The Servants.

The Russian mode of Laying the
Table.

What to put on the Table.

Soup.

Wine and its Etiquettes.

Fish.

The Joint.

Vegetables.

The Order of Serving.

Grace.

Dinner Etiquette.

Punctuality, etc.

CHAPTER XII. — Ladies at Dinner 281

Invitations.

Whom to Invite and whom not.

The Reception of Guests by the Lady.

Of Proceeding to the Dining-room.

The Ladies Retire.

The Ladies in the Drawing-room.

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER XIII.— Balls.

Their Place in Society.

The Invitations.

Whom to Invite.

The Proper Number.

The Requisites for a Good Ball.

Arrangement of the Rooms.

Lighting.

The Floor.

The Music.

Refreshments.

PAGE

288

The Supper.

Bali-Room Etiquette.

Receiving the Guests.

Introductions.

The Invitation to Dance.

Ball-room Acquaintance.

Going to Refreshments and Supper.

Manners at Supper.

Flirtation.

Public Balls.

CHAPTER XIV.— Morning and Evening Partees,

303

4 'Making a Party."

Town Parties (Receptions, Private

Concerts, Amateur Theatricals,

Tea-Party, Matinees).

General Rules.

Country Parties (Evening Parties,

Outdoor-Parties and Picnics).
General Rules.

CHAPTER XV.— Marriage

316

Offers.

Engagements.

Marriage Contracts and Settlements.

The Trousseau. i

The Bridesmaids.

The Lady's Dress.

The Gentleman's Dress.
Going to the Church.
The Ceremony.
The Breakfast.
Travelling Dress.

THE HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY.

THOUGHTS ON SOCIETY, AND THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL

OBSERVANCES.

A sermon and a book of etiquette have been taken as the antip-
odes of literature. Most erroneously ! The one is a necessary-
appendix to the other ; and the missionary of the South Sea Islands
would tell you that it is useless to teach the savage religion without
the addition of a few rules of courtesy. On manners, refinement,
roles of good breeding, and even the forms of etiquette, we are for-
ever talking, judging our neighbors severely by the breach of tradi-
tionary and unwritten laws, and choosing our society, and even our
friends, by the touchstone of courtesy. We are taught manners
before religion ; our nurses and our parents preach their lay ser-
mons upon them long before they open for us the Bible and the
Catechism ; our dominies flog into us Greek verbs and English be-
havior with the same cane ; and Eton and Oxford declare with
pride, that however little they may teach their frequenters, they
at least turn them out gentlemen. Nay, we keep a grand state
official, with a high salary, for no other purposes than to preserve
the formal etiquette of the Court, and to issue from time to time a
series of occasional services in which the minutest laws of courtly
behavior are codified with majestic solemnity.

Yet with all this and much more deference which we show now
to manners in general, now to the arbitrary laws of etiquette, which
seem to have no object but exclusiveness, we are always ready to

12 THE 'SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

raise a titter at the attempt to reduce the former to a system, or
codify the latter for the sake of convenience. The polished affect
to despise the book of etiquette as unnecessary, forgetting that, in
the present day, the circles of good society are growing wider and
wider, admitting repeatedly, and more than ever, men who have
risen from the cottage or the workshop, and have had neither their
training nor their experience. What if railway kings and mushroom
millionaires had studied their grammars and manner-books in the
respites from business, would the noble lords, who, with their
wives and daughters, condescended, nay were proud, to dine with
the quondam shop-boy and mechanic, have thus been sneered at by
the middle classes for a worship of gold, which could induce them
to put up with gross vulgarity, and for a respect for success which
could allow the greatest sticklers for etiquette to endure its repeated
neglect ? Surely it is in the interest of future premiers and noble
members of council, that John Smith should know how to benave
before they visit him ; and how can he possibly learn it without
either a tutor, a book, or experience in society ?

The first is undoubtedly the best medium ; and we constantly
find the sons of mannerless millionaires tutored into the habits of
good society, but at the same time it is a course which demands
youth, time, and the absence of business occupations; but every-
body, at first sight, agrees, that experience in society is the only
good way to acquire the polish it demands. True, maybe ; but if
it demands that polish in you, how will it take you without it ?
How can you obtain the entree into good society, when, on the very
threshold, you are found deficient in its first rules ? How, if you
succeed in pushing your way into sets which you believe to consti-
tute good society, can you be sure that they will tolerate you there
till you have learned your lesson, which is not one to be known in a
day ? Your failure, indeed, may be painful, and end in your eject-
ment forever from the circles you have taken so much trouble to
press into.

THE CHAPLAIN AND THE NUNCIO. 13

I remember an instance of such a failure which occurred many
years ago, in a distant European capital. The English residents
had long been without a chaplain, and the arrival of an English cler-
gyman was hailed with such enthusiasm, that a deputation at once
attended on him and offered him the post, which he accepted. We
soon found that our course was a mistaken one. Slovenly in his
dress, dirty in his habits, and quite ignorant of the commonest rules
of politeness, our new chaplain would have brought little credit to
the English hierarchy even had his manners been retiring and unob-
trusive. They were precisely the reverse. By dint of cringing,
flattery, and a readiness to serve in no matter what undertaking, he
pushed himself, by. virtue of his new position, into some of the
highest circles. One evening it happened that the new chaplain
and the Pope's nuncio were both at the same evening party. The
pontifical legate went out but little, and the lady of the house had
used great exertions to procure his presence. The contrast between
the representatives of the two Churches was trying for us.

The cardinal, grave, dignified, and courtly, received the advances
of those who were introduced to him as his due. The chaplain, in
a frayed and dirty shirt, with holes in his boots and ill-combed hair,
was sneaking up to the grandees and doing his best to gain their
attention by smiles and flattery. He had heard somewhere that no
introductions were needed in Continental salons, and you can imagine
our surprise when we saw him slide sideways up to the red-stock-
inged nuncio, tap him familiarly on the shoulder, and with a full
grin exclaim, ' ' Well, my Lord, how did you leave the Pope ? *
The cardinal bowed and smiled, but could not conceal his astonish-
ment. The familiarity was not indeed a crime, but it proved that
the offender was not fit for the society into which he had pushed
himself ; and the legate, glad to have a story against the Protest-
ants, made the most of it, and repeated it until the new chaplain
found his entree to the drawing-rooms of the great was generally
cancelled.

14 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

Useful or not useful, it would seem that codes of manners are
thought ridiculous. If the farce- writer wants to introduce a
thoroughly credulous country-girl, he makes her carry a little book
of etiquette under her fan into the ball-room ; and if the heavy-
headed essayists of a Quarterly want a light subject to relieve the
tedium of their trimestrial lucubrations, it is almost sure to be the
^ade mecums of etiquette which come in for their satire. Poor
indeed, and reduced in honor as well as capital, must be the man of
letters, they tell you, who will condescend to write on the angle of a
bow, or the punctilio of an insult ; forgetting that these are but
some of the details which go to make an important whole, and that
we might as honestly sneer at the antiquarian who revels in a dirty
coin of the size of a farthing, or the geologist who fills his pockets
with chips of ugly stone. However, the sneer is raised, and it is
our duty to speak of it.

There remain, then, three reasons for holding works of this sort
in disrepute : either manners themselves are contemptible, or they
are not a subject worthy of the consideration of the wise and great ;
or the books of etiquette themselves are ridiculous in their treat-
ment of the subject.

The value of manners is to be the main theme of this introduc-
tion ; as regards their value as a subject, I can only point to those
who have discoursed or written upon them, and I think it may be
affirmed that few moral teachers have not touched on the kindred
subject. Indeed, the true spirit of good manners is so nearly allied
to that of good morals, that it is scarcely possible to avoid doing so.
Our Saviour himself has taught us that modesty is the true spirit of
decent behavior, and was not ashamed to notice and rebuke the
forward manners of his fellow guests in taking the upper seats at
banquets, while he has chosen the etiquettes of marriage as illus-
trations in several of his parables. Evren in speaking of the scrupu-
lous habits of the Pharisees, he did not condemn their cleanliness
itself, but the folly which attached so much value to mere form.

THE HIGHEST AUTHORITIES ON THE SUBJECT. 15

He conformed himself to those habits, and in the washing of feet at
meals drew a practical lesson of beautiful humility. His greatest
follower has left us many injunctions to gentleness and courteousness
of manner, and fine passages on women's dress, which should be
painted over every lady's toilet table in the kingdom.

As to the philosophers, who are anything but men of good man-
ners themselves, there are few who have not taught behavior more
or less. To say nothing of the ugly but agreeable old gentleman,
Socrates, who went about the city asking as many questions as a
counsel for the defendant in a case of circumstantial evidence, we
have his pupil's pupil Aristotle, whose ethics the Oxford boys are
taught to look upon as next in wisdom to the Bible, and truer than
any similar work. We are convinced that the greater part of the
ethics might be turned into a " Guide to the Complete Gentleman."
In fact, the Stagyrite's morals are social ones — the morals that fit a
man to shine in the agora and the academy. He has raised the
peculiar behavior of the ko\os Kdyaddg dvhp — alias "gentleman" — to
his equals, betters, and inferiors, into one of the cardinal virtues,
and has given us, besides, several chapters on wit and conversation,
intimacies, and the proper carriage of a good citizen in society.

Brit to look nearer home, Lord Bacon himself has devoted an
essay to manners, and reminds us that as a precious stone must be
of very high value to do without a setting, a man must be a very
great one to dispense with social observances ; and probably John-
son thought himself one of these unset gems, when he made such
speches as " Sir, you're a fool ! " or at Aberdeen, " Yes, sir; Scot-
land is what I expected ; I expected a savage country, and savage
people, and I have found them."

But why multiply instances ? If we look to the satirist of all
ages, we find that manners as well as morals came under their lash,
and many taught by ridicule what we do by precept. Horace, the
Spectator, and Thackeray expose the vulgarities and affectations of
society; and the finest wit of his day, Chesterfield, is the patron
saint of the writers on Behavior.

16 THE SPIKIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

"VVe have, therefore, no lack of precedent ; but it is certainly true
that too often the office of a teacher of manners has been assumed
by retired Turveydrops, and genteel masters of ceremonies, and the
laugh that is raised at their hints on propriety is not always without
excuse. It would be very bad manners in me to criticise the works
of former writers on this subject, and thus put forward my own as
the neplus ultra of perfection. I confess, indeed, that I can never
aspire to the delicacy and apparently universal acquirements of some
of these genteel persons. If I can tell you how to entertain your
guests, I cannot furnish a list of cartes for dinners, like the author
of the Art of Dining. If I can tell you how to dance with propriety,
I must despair of describing the Terpsichorean inventions of a
D'Egville or a Delplanque, or of giving directions for the intricate
evolutions of one hundred and one dances, of which in the present
day not a dozen are ever performed.

I may, however, be permitted to point out that too many of my
predecessors have acted on a wrong principle. I have before me at
least a dozen books treating of etiquette of different dates, and I
find that one and all, including Chesterfield, state the motive for
politeness to be either the desire to shine, or the wish to raise one's
self into society supposed to be better than one's own. One of the
best begins by defining Etiquette as c ' a shield against the intrusion
of the impertinent, the improper, and the vulgar ; " another tells us
that the circles which protect themselves with this shield must be
the object of our attack, and that a knowledge of etiquette will
secure us the victory; others of higher character confound good
with high society, and as a matter of course declare birth, rank, or
distinction as its first requisites. All of them make it appear that
the cultivation of manners is not a social duty, but merely a means
to the gratification of personal vanity, and on this acount they must
all appear ridiculous to the man of sense.

Good society is undoubtedly a most desirable accompaniment of
the business of life, and with some people it even takes the place of

EXCLUSIVE SETS. 17

that business itself ; but if the reader imagines that he is to put his
book of etiquette into his pocket, and, quitting his old friends and ac-
quaintance with disgust, to push himself into sets for which perhaps
bis position itself does net qualify him, he is much mistaken as to
the object of cultivating the habits of good society. His proper ob-
jects are these : to make himself better in every respect than he is ;
to render himself agreeable to every one with whom he has to do ;
and to improve, if necessary, the society in which he is placed. If
he can do this, he will not want good society long. It is in the
power of every man to create it for himself. An agreeable and pol-
ished person attracts like light, and every kind of society which is
worth entering will soon and easily open its doors to him, and be
glad to have him in its circle. Exclusiveness is often a proof of
innate vulgarity, and the tests applied by the exclusive are generally
position, birth, name, or peculiarity, rarely indeed individual merit.
Wherever these limitations are drawn, you may be confident of a

deficiency in the" drawers. My Lady A , who will have no one

under the rank of baronet at her house, can scarcely appreciate the

wide diffusion of wit and intelligence among the untitled. Mr . B ,

who invites none but literary men to his, must be incapable of en-
joying the accomplishments and general knowledge of men of the
world. And then, too, it is so easy to be exclusive, if you are con-
tent to be dull. My University tailor had a daughter, whose dower
he announced as £30,000, and he gave out that none but a gold-
tassel should be allowed to cultivate her acquaintance. But the
young noblemen never came, and the damsel pined for a couple of
years. The father widened the bounds, and gentlemen- commoners
were admitted, but still the maiden was unwooed. In another three
years the suffrage was extended to all members of Christ Church.
There may have been wooers now, but no winners. Five years more
and the maiden still sat at her window unclaimed. For another five
^-ears the ninth part of a man held out resolutely, but by that time
youth was gone, and the daughter so long a prisoner was glad to
accept the hand of an aspiring cheesemonger.
2

18 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

But the tailor's vulgarity was no greater than that of all exclusive
sets, who " draw the line" which preserves the purity of their
magic circle, with a measure of rank, wealth, or position, rather
than the higher recommendations of agreeable manners, social
talents, and elevated character. The dullness of the coteries of the
Faubourg St. Germain is equalled in this country only by that of
certain sets to be found in most watering-places. A decrepit old
lady or gentleman, long retired from fashionable and public life, is
always to be found in these localities. Surrounded by a small knot
of worshippers, he or she is distinguished by a title, a faultless wig,
and a great love of whist, and the playful sallies of "my lord " and
"my lady" are hailed as splendid wit, or their petulant tempers
endured with affectionate submission. How much Christianity does
a nook in the peerage encourage ! What a pity there is not a re-
tired nobleman in every set of society, to put our forbearance to a
perpetual trial, call forth our broadest charity, and train us at the
whist-table to lose our guineas, and not our temper !

Exclusive society, whether the passport for admittance be of rank,
birth, wealth, fashion, or even more meritorious distinctions, is not
often agreeable society, and not necessarily good. The question at
once arises : What is good society ? and we proceed to answer it,
beginning with an attempt to define society itself.

When the ex-King Ludwig of Bavaria stops, as we have seen him
do, to exchange a hearty word with a crossing sweeper, one of a
class which the misnamed "First Gentleman of Europe," while re-
turning punctiliously the marks of respect shown him by every man
that he passed, thought it beneath the dignity of a monarch to
notice, r.o one would think of impeaching the sovereign of a love of
low society. If, again, a country gentleman chats with his game-
keeper as they come from the fields together, he will, perhaps, tell
you that he has enjoyed the honest fellow's " society," but it will be*
in the tone of a joke. Not so, however, the candidate for the
borough, who begs the influential haberdasher he is canvassing, to

WHAT IS SOCIETY? 19

introduce him to his wife and daughters, whose society u he is most
anxious to cultivate.' ' He is quite aware that equality is the first
essential of society, and that where it does not exist in reality, it
must do so in appearance.

Nor is mere equality of position sufficient. It seems to be a rule
in the intercourse of men, that the employer should rank above the
employed, and the transaction of business suspends equality for a
time. There is no society between a gentleman and his solicitor or
physician, in an official visit, and though both hold the same rank,
the professional man would never, unless further advances were
made, presume on the official acquaintance to consider himself a
member of his patient's or client's circle.

Society is, therefore, the intercourse of persons on a footing of
equality, real or apparent. But it is more than this. The two
thoroughly English gentlemen who, travelling for two hundred miles
in the same railway carriage, ensconce themselves behind their news-
papers or shilling novels, exchanging no more than a sentence when
the one treads upon the other's favorite bunion, cannot, in the
widest sense of the phrase, be said to enjoy each other's society.
The intercourse must be both active and friendly. Man is a gregar-
ious animal ; but while other animals herd together for the purpose
of mutual protection, or common undertakings, men appear to form
the only kind who assemble for that of mutual entertainment and
improvement. But in society, properly so called, this entertainment
must address the higher part of man. Never was philosopher more
justly put down for narrowness of mind than Plato was by Diogenes.
The polished Athenian had the rashness to define man as a biped
without feathers. The ill-mannered but sensible philosopher of the
tub plucked a cock and labelled it "Plato's Man." Man is not
wholly man without his mind, and a game of cricket in which men
assemble for mutual entertainment or improvement is not society,
since it is the body, not the mind, which is brought into action.

Indeed, we hear people talk of round games being sociable, and it

20 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

is certain that in most of those which are played in a drawing-room,
the mind is made to work as well as the fingers ; bnt while such
games undoubtedly excite sociability with people too shy or too
stupid to talk and be at ease without their assistance, we must be-
ware of confounding them with sociability itself. The mutual en-
tertainment of the mind must be immediate in society. In chess,
and even in whist, the mental working is keen and the action is
decidedly mutual, if we may not rather say antagonistic, but no one
would think of saying that he had enjoyed Mr. Morphy's society,
because he was one of his eight opponents in a chess tournament,
and none but doting dowagers would presume to talk of the
" society " of the whist-table. The intercourse must be direct from
mind to mind.

Social intercourse is, in fact, the consequence of a necessity felt
by men and women for new channels of thought, and new impulses
of feeling. We read books, and we go to the play for the very same
purpose ; but that which constitutes the superior charm of society
over these relaxations is its variety and uncertainty. The guest
could never have sat through the Barmecide's feast, if he had not
expected that each succeeding cover would reveal a dainty entremets
to make up for the shadowy character of the joints and Jwrs (Pceuvres,
and not even an old maid of fifty could continue to attend those
dreary evening parties at the vicar's, or those solemn dinners at the
hall, if she did not look forward to meeting some new guest, or at
least having some new idea struck into her?

I have always doubted whether Bos well had not as great mental
capacities of their kind as Johnson. It requires either a profound
mind or a cold heart to feel no necessity for social intercourse.
Bozzy had not the latter. Had he the former ? As the great mind
can content itself with its own reflections, stimulated at most by
the printed thoughts of others, so it carries in itself its power* of vary-
ing what it takes in, and scorns to look for variety from without.
Most deep thinkers have had one pet book, which they have read;

MENTAL INTEECOCKSE NECESSARY. 21

one bosom-friend whom they have studied in a thousand different
lights according to the variety which their own nervous mind would
suggest. Had Boswell been an ordinary man, would he not have
wearied of the Doctor's perpetual sameness, of his set answers and
anticipated rebuffs ? Lovers weary of one another's minds, and the
cleverest jjeople are incapable of enduring a tete-a-tete for three
weeks at a time, and was Boswell more than a lover ?

" Lean not on one mind constantly,

Lest where one stood before, two fall.
Something God hath to say to thee
Worth hearing from the lips of all." .

And it is this feeling which impels men of good sense and ordinary
minds to seek acquaintance as well as friends, which makes me
happy to talk sometimes to the ploughman coming from the field,
to the policeman hanging about his beat, even to the thief whose
hand I have caught in my pocket. Could I have a professional pick-
pocket in my grasp and not seize the rare opportunity of discover-
ing what view a thief takes of life, of right and wrong, honor, even
manners and the habits of good society ? You may be sure he has
something to tell me on all these points, and for a while I might
profit from even his society; though, as equality is necessary, I
should for the time have to let myself down to his level, which is
scarcely desirable.

I have said that there are some minds universal enough in them-
selves to feel no need of society. To such, solitude is society — of
thought. To such the prison-cell is but little trial. Raleigh was
as great in the Tower as out of it, and Michael Angelo desired only
to sit for days gazing upon, ay, and communing, with the grand men
and wondrous scenes which he found in his own brain.

Other minds again are content with a little society, but it is the
weakest class that can never do without it. It will not be difficult
to show that the wits and beaux who have lived for society only,
were men whom no one need aspire to rival.

22 THE bTIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

I draw this distinction in order that hereafter I may speak more
freely of conversation in general society; bnt it must not be
thought, by a converse conclusion, that every common frequenter of
society is but a poor-minded being. Socrates and Shakspere, who
lived continually with their fellow-creatures, would not thank you
for such an inference, and the cleverest men are often the most
sociable ; though, as La Roche foucault says u In conversation con-
fidence has a greater share than wit."

Chesterfield says, "there are two sorts of good company: one
which is called the beau-monde, and consists of those people who
have the lead in courts, and in the gay part of life ; the other con-
sists of those who are distinguished by some peculiar merit, or who
excel in some particular and valuable art or science." If this were
not the opinion of my patron saint, I should maintain that the
writer knew not what good company was. But, in truth, in the
days of Philip Dormer Stanhope there was little option but be-
tween wealth, rank, and fashion, on the one hand, and wit and
learning on the other ; and his Lordship cannot be blamed for writ •
ing thus in the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the mid-
dle classes had not learnt manners, if a century later Mr. Hayward,
who undertakes to write down books of etiquette, tells us that
"rank, wealth, and distinction of some sort, are the elements of
success in society.

If the opinion of a man who for twelve years labored to make a
graceful gentleman of his son, and, though he failed to do so, cer-
tainly thought and wrote more on the manners of good society than
any man before and since, is not to be taken as a maxim, I must be
allowed some hesitation in putting forward a definition. As Chester-
field himself says, bad company is much more easily defined than
good. Let us begin with the bad, then, and see to what it brings
us.

Beau Brummel broke off an engagement with a young lady be-
cause he once saw her eat cabbage. " Over-nice people," says

BAD MORALS AND BAD SOCIETY. 23

Dean Swift, u have sometimes very nasty ideas." But George the
Less evidently thought the young lady in question was very bad
company. To define exactly where bad manners begin is not easy,
but there is no doubt that no society is good in which they are
found ; and this book will have been written in vain, if the reader
after studying it is unable to distinguish between bad and good be-
havior. In the present day neither Brummel nor his " fat friend,"
the "greatest gentleman in Europe," would be tolerated in good
society. The code of morals is clearly written, whatever may be
the traditionary code of manners, and we may at once lay down as
a rule, that where morals are openly bad, society must be bad. The
badness of morals is soon detected. We may indeed meet in a Lon-
don ball-room a score of young men, whose manners are as spotless
as their shirt-fronts, and fail to discover from their carriage and
conversation that one requires assistance to undress every third
night, another is supported by Hebrews in gambling away his rever-
sionary property, and a third, without Shelley's genius, shares his
opinions as to the uselessness of matrimonial vows. But let us pur-
sue their acquaintance, and we shall soon learn from the tone «of
their conversation what is the tenor of their lives.

Bad society, then, may be divided into three classes : 1. That in
which both morals and manners are bad; 2. That in which the
manners are bad, be the morals what they will ; 3. That in which
the manners appear to be good, but the morals are detestable. The
first is low, the second vulgar, the third dangerous society.

Few people but undergraduates, young ensigns, and aspiring clerks
and shop-boys, will need to be warned against low society. Where
vice wears no veil, and decency forever blushes, the man of any
self-respect, to say nothing of taste and education, will speedily be
disgusted. The first proof of lowness is seen at once in undue
familiarity. ' If there are women in company, you will at once dis-
cover their character from the manner in which they allow them-
selves to be addressed ; but if not, you will doubtless ere long be

A.

24 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

yourself subjected to a freedom of treatment, which you will
readily distinguish from ease of manner, and know to be beyond the
proper limits. Familiarity, on first introduction, is always of bad
style, often even vulgar, and, when used by the openly immoral, is
low and revolting. A man of self-respect will not be pleased with it
even when it comes from the most respectable, or his superiors ; he
will despise it in his equals, and will take it almost as an insult from
those who do not respect themselves. If Brummel really had the
impudence to say to his patron prince, "Wales, ring the bell ! " we
cannot blame the corpulent George for ordering the Beau's carriage
when the servant appeared. We can only wonder that he did not
take warning by his favorite's presumption to separate himself from
the rest of his debauched hangers-on, when he found that respect
for the Prince was swamped in contempt for the profligate.

This is a good opportunity for introducing a few words on the
subject of familiarity, which, writing as an Englishman, we may at
once lay down as incompatible with good society. w You are a race
of porkers ! " say the French. " You are a race of puppies ! " replies
the inassailable Englishman; and certainly there is nothing more
sublimely ridiculous than the British lion shaking his mane and
muttering a growl when the Continental poodle asks him, in a
friendly manner, to shake his paw. Dignity has its limits as well as
ease, and dignity is extravagant in Spain, and often melodramatic
in England. Charles I. never laughed, and his cotemporary, Philip
of Spain, never smiled. But it must not be supposed that the
English have always been as dignified as the modern towers bristling
with cannon, and bearing the motto, "Noli me tangere," who are
seen moving in Pall Mall in the afternoon. Stiffness perhaps came
in with Brummell's starched cravat, a yard in height, which took
him a quarter of an hour to crease down to that of his neck. In
the reigns of the Tudors, familiarity was the order of the day at the
Court. There was nothing shocking in Bluff Harry stretching his
huge gouty leg upon Catharine Parr's lap, and Queen Elizabeth

INSTANCES OF FAMILIARITY. 25

thought herself only witty when to Sir Roger Williams, presenting a
petition which she disliked, she exclaimed, " Williams, how your
boots stink!" " Tut, madame," replied the Welshman, " it is my
suit, not my boots, which stink.1' In Ben Jonson's day it was the
height of gallantry to chuck a lady under the chin, and make a not
very refined compliment to her rosy lips. Even the cavaliers of
Charles' court had a freedom of speech and manner which disgusted
the Puritans; and if Milton's report be true, the sovereign that never
laughed saw no harm in making indelicate remarks before, if not to,
the Queen's ladies. But the most curious instances of familiarity,
mistaken for wit, are to be found in the reigns of WTilliam III. and
Anne. When Bath was the most fashionable spot in the kingdom,
and Beau Nash the most fashionable man in Bath, the following
speeches, interlarded with oaths, were his most fashionable mots :

A lady, afflicted with a curvature of the spine, once told him that
she had that day come straight from London. ' c Straight, madame ! "
replied the magnificent master of ceremonies, "then you've been
horribly warped by the way." "When, on another occasion, a gen-
tleman appeared at an assembly in boots, which Nash had inter-
dicted, he called out to him, "Hollo! Hogs Norton, haven't you
forgot to bring your horse ? " He was well put down, however, by a
young lady, whom he once met walking with a spaniel behind her.
<; Please, madame," asked the Beau, u can you tell me the name of
Tobit's dog?" "Yes, sir," answered the damsel; "his name is
Nash, and a very impudent dog he is, too."

Familiarity arises either from an excess of friendliness or a defi-
ciency of respect. The latter is never pardonable. We cannot con-
sider that man well-bred who shows no respect for the position,
feelings, or even prejudices of others. The youth who addresses
his father as "governor," or " come now, paymaster," is almost as
blamable as the man who stares at my club foot, or, because I have
a very dark complexion, asks me at first sight when I left India.
Still more reprehensible should I be if I exclaimed to a stout lady,

26 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

"How warm you look!" asked Mr. Spurgeon if he had been to
many balls lately ; inquired after the wife and family of a Romish
priest, or begged the Dean of Carlisle to tell me the odds on the
Derby.

Worse, again, is the familiarity which arises from natural coarse-
ness, and which becomes most prominent in the society of elderly
men, or where ladies are present. The demeanor of youth to age
should always be respectful ; that of man to woman should approach
even reverence —

" To thee be all men heroes ; every race-
Noble ; all women virgins ; and each place
A temple."

And certainly it is better and more comfortable to believe in the
worth of all, than by contempt and boldness to leave the impression
of impudence and impropriety. It should be the boast of every
man that he had never put modesty to the blush, nor encouraged
immodesty to remove her mask. But we fear there is far too little
chivalry in the present day. If young men do not chuck their
partners under the chin, they are often guilty of pressing their hands
when the dance affords an opportunity. There is a calm dignity
with which to show that the offence has been noticed, but if a lady
condescends to reprove it in words, she forces the culprit to defend
himself, and often ends by making the breach worse. On the other
hand, let a woman once overlook the slightest familiarity, and fail
to show her surprise in her manner, and she can never be certain
that it will not be repeated. There are few actions so atrociously
familiar as a wink. I would rather kiss a lady outright than wink
or leer at her, for that silent movement seems to imply a secret
understanding which may be interpreted in any way you like. Even
between men a wink should be avoided, however intimate the terms
between you, since it seems to keep the rest of the company in the
dark and is perhaps worse than whispering.

RESPECT TO THE SEX. 27

We often hear people complain of the necessity of " company
manners." As a general rule such people must be by nature coarse.
A well-bred man has always the same manners at home and in
society, and what is bad in the former is only worse in the latter.
It can never be pardonable to swagger and lounge, nor to carry into
even the family circle the actions proper to the dressing-room.
Even where familiarity has nothing shocking in itself, it attacks the
respect due to the society of others, whoever they may be, and pre-
sents the danger of a further breach of it. From familiarity to in-
decency is but one step. Thus no part of the dress, not a shoe-
string even, should be arranged in the presence of ladies. The Hin-
dus, remarkable for the delicacy of their manners, would not allow
kissing, scratching, pinching, or lying down to be represented on
the stage, and at least the last three should never be permitted in a
mixed society of men and women. There are attitudes, too, which
are a transition from ease to familiarity, and should never be in-
dulged. A man may cross his legs in the present day, but should
never stretch them apart. To wipe the forehead, gape, yawn, and
so forth, are only a shade less obnoxious than the American habit
of expectoration. I shall have more to say on this subject, and
must now pass to another.

Familiarity must be condemned or pardoned according to the mo-
tive that suggests it. Not unfrequently it arises from over-friend-
liness or even shyness, and must then be gently and kindly repressed.
As for shyness, which is par excellence the great obstacle to ease in
English society, I, for my part, think it infinitely preferable to for-
wardness. It calls fortl^L our kindest and best feelings, utterly dis-
arms the least considerate of us, and somewhat endears us to the
sufferer. Yet so completely is it at variance with the spirit of
society, that in France it is looked on as a sin ; and children are
brought forward as much as possible that they may early get rid of
it, the consequence of which is, that a French boy from his college is
one of the most obnoxious of his race, while you cannot help feeling

28 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

that the extreme diffidence of the debutante is merely assumed in
obedience to cliere maman. Give me a boy that blushes when you
speak to him, and a girl under seventeen, who looks down because
she dares not look up. On the other hand, shyness is trying and
troublesome in young people of full age, though a little of it is always
becoming on first acquaintance ; while in middle-aged people it is
scarcely pardonable.

To the young, therefore, who are entering into society I would
say — Never be ashamed of your shyness, since, however painful it
may be to you, it is far less disagreeable to others than the attempt
to conceal it by familiarity.

The only way to treat familiarity arising from shyness is not to
notice it, but encourage the offender till you have given him or her
confidence. It is a kindness as much to yourself as to the sufferer
from shyness, to introduce merry subjects, to let fly a little friendly
badinage at him, until he thinks that you are deceived by his
assumed manner, and no longer afraid of being thought nervous,
really gets rid of the chief cause of that feeling.

When Brummell was asked by a lady whom he scarcely knew, to
come and "take tea" with her, the Beau replied, " Madame, you
take a walk, and you take a liberty, but you drink tea." It was only
one of those many speeches of the Beau's, which prove that a man
may devote his whole life to the study of manner and appearance,
and, without good feeling to back them up, not be a gentleman.
The lady undoubtedly did take a liberty, but the would-be gentle-
man took a greater in correcting her idiom. The lady erred from a
silly admiration of the ex-model of fashion ; the broken beau erred
from excessive conceit, and an utter want of heart. Let the reader
judge between the two. If the object of politeness is to insure
harmony to society, and set every one at his ease, it is as necessary
to good manners to receive a icett-meant familiarity in a like spirit, as
it is to check one which arises from coarseness.

On the Continent, whore diffidence is unknown, and to be friendly

TAKING A LIBERTY. 29

js the first object, we find a freedom of manners which, in England
we should call familiarity. Let a man be of no matter what station,
he has there a right to speak to his fellow-man, if good him seems,
and certainly the barrier which we English raise up between classes
savors very little of Christianity. What harm can it do me, who
call myself a gentleman, if a horny-handed workman, waiting for
the same train as myself, comes up and says, " It is a fine day, sir,"
evincing a desire for a further interchange of ideas ; am I the more
a gentleman because I cut him short with a " Yes," and turn away;
or because, as many people do, I stare him rudely in the face, and
vouchsafe no answer ? ' ' Something God hath to say to thee worth
hearing from the lips of all," and I may be sure that I shall learn
something from him, if I talk to him in a friendly manner, which, if
I am really a gentleman, his society can do me no harm.

But of course there is a limit to be fixed. Englishmen respect
nothing so much as their purses and their private affairs, and in
England you might as well ask a stranger for five pounds as inquire
what he was travelling for, what his income was, or what were the
names of his six children. But England is an exception in this case,
and a foreigner believes that he does himse]f no harm by telling you
his family history at first sight. While, therefore, it is a gross im-
pertinence in this country to put curious questions to a person of
whom you *know little, while it is reserved for the closest intimacy
to inquire as to private means and personal motives, it is equally
ridiculous in an Englishman abroad to take offence at such ques-
tions, and consider as an impertinence what is only meant as a
friendly advance to nearer acquaintance. I certainly cannot under-
stand why an honest man should determine to make a secret of his
position, profession, and resources, unless it be from a false pride,
and a desire to be thought richer and better than he is ; but as these
subjects are respected in this country, I should be guilty of great
ill-breeding if I sought to remove his secresy.

I shall never forsret the look of horror and astonishment I once

30 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

saw on the face of an English lady talking* to a foreign ambassadress.
The latter, thoroughly well-bred, according to native ideas, had ad-
mired the former's dress, and touching one of the silk flounces deli-
cately enough, she inquired, " How much did it cost a yard?"
Such questions are common enough on the Continent, and our
neighbors see no harm in them. And why should we do so ? Is it
anyway detrimental to us to tell how much we paid for our clothes ?
Yet, such is the false pride of English people on matters connected,
however slightly, with money, that even to mention that most
necessary article is considered as bad breeding in this country. We
must respect the prejudice, though, in fact, it is a vulgar one.

The next kind of bad society is the vulgar, in which the morals
may be good, but the manners are undoubtedly bad. What bad man-
ners are in detail, will be shown in the course of this work ; but I
shall now take as the distinguishing test of this kind of society — a
general vulgarity of conduct. Until the end of the last century,
the word vulgarity was confined to the low, mean, and essentially
plebeian. It would be well if we could so limit it in the present
day, but the great mixture of classes and the elevation of wealth
have thrust vulgarity even into the circles of good society, where,
like a black sheep in a white flock, you may sometimes find a
thoroughly vulgar man or woman recommended by little but their
wealth, or a position gained by certain popular qualifications.
Where the majority of the company are decidedly vulgar, the society
may be set down as bad.

Apart from coarseness and familiarity, vulgarity may be defined
as pretension of some kind. This is shown prominently in a display of
wealth. I remember being taken to dine at the house of a French
corn-merchant, who had realized an enormous fortune. It was
almost a family party, for there were only three strangers including
myself. The manners of every one present were irreproachable,
and the dinner excellent, but it was served on gold plate. Such a
display was unnecessary, inconsistent, and therefore vulgar. A

THE VULGARITY OF DISPLAY. 31

display of dress in ladies comes under the same head and will be
easily detected by inappropriateness. The lady who walks in the
streets in a showy dress suitable only to a fete; who comes to a
quiet social gathering with a profusion of costly jewellery ; the man
who electrifies a country village with the fashionable attire of Rot-
ten Row or reminds you of his guineas by a display of unnecessary
jewels ; the people, in short, who are always over-dressed for the occa-
sion, may be set down as vulgar. Too much state is a vulgarity not
always confined to wealth, and when a late nobleman visiting a sim-
ple commoner at his country house, brought with him a valet,
coachman, three grooms, two men servants, a carriage, and half a
dozen horses, he was guilty of as gross vulgarity as Solomon Moses
or Abiathar Nathan, who adorns his fat stumpy fingers with three
rings apiece. So completely indeed is modesty the true spirit of
good breeding, that any kind of display in poor or rich, high or low,
savors of vulgarity ; and the man who makes too much of his pecu-
liar excellencies, who attempts to engross conversation with the one
topic he is strong in, who having travelled is always telling you
"what they do on the Continent;" who, being a scholar, over-
whelms you with Menander or Manetho ; who, having a lively wit,
showers down on the whole company a perpetual hail of his own
bon mots, and laughs at them himself ; who, gifted with a fine voice,
monopolizes the piano the whole evening ; who, having distinguished
himself in the Crimea, perpetually leads back the conversation to
the theme of war, and rattles away on his own achievements ; who,
having written a book, interlards his talk with, "As I say in my
novel ;" &c. , who, being a fine rider, shows his horse off in a score of
difficult manoeuvres, as Louis Napoleon did at the Egremont tour-
nament, though not asked to take part in the lists ; who goes to a
party with all the medals and clasps he has perhaps most honorably
earned ; or who, being a great man in any line, puts himself promin-
ently forward, condescends, talks loud, or asserts his privileges — is a
vulgar man, be he king, kaiser, or cobbler.

32 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

But there is a form of vulgarity found as much in those of small
as those of large means, and known by the name of " gentility." I
know a man who keeps a poor little worn-out pony -phaeton, and
always speaks of it as "my carriage," taking care to bring it in
whenever possible. My friend Mrs. Jones dines at one o'clock, but
invariably calls it her u lunch." The Rev. Mr. Smith cannot afford
the first-class on a railway, but is too genteel to go in the second.
Excellent man ! he tells me — and I am bound to believe it — that he
positively prefers the third class to the first. " Those first-class
carriages are so stuffy," he says, u and in the second one meets such
people, it is really unbearable ;" but he does not let me know that in
the third he will have to sit next to an odoriferous ploughboy, get his
knees crushed by a good woman's huge market-basket, and catch cold
fro^i a draught passing through the ill-adjusted windows. There is
no earthly reason why he should not travel in what carriage he likes,
but the vulgarity consists in being ashamed of his poverty, and
tacitly pretending to be better off than he is. Brown, again, calls his
father's nutshell of a cottage u our country seat," and Mrs. Brown
speaks of the diminutive buttons as the u man-servant." My tailor
has his crest embossed on his note paper ; Robinson, the successful
stock-broker, covers the panels of his carriage with armorial bear-
ings as large as dishes ; Tomkins, ashamed of his father's name, signs
himself Tomkyns ; and Mrs. Williams, when I call, always discourses
on English history, that she may bring in John of Gaunt, ' ' an an-
cestor of ours, you know."

Nor is gentility confined to a pretension to more wealth, better
birth, or greater state than we possess. The commonest form of it,
found unfortunately in all classes, is the pretension to a higher posi-
tion than we occupy. The Johnsons, retired haberdashers, cannot
visit the Jacksons, retired linen-drapers, but have moved heaven
and earth for an introduction to the Jamesons, who are not retired
from anything. The Jamesons receive the Johnsons, but stiffly an-
nihilate them at once by talking of " our friends the Williamsons,"

PRETENSION. 33

who have a cousin in Parliament, and the Williamsons again are for-
ever dragging the said cousin into their conversation, that the Jame-
sons may be stupefied. We go higher : the M. P. , though perhaps
a Radical, will forever be dogging the steps of the noble viscount
opposite, and call the leader of his own party " that fellow so-and-
so." The viscount is condescendingly gracious to the commoner,
but deferential to the duke, and the duke himself will be as merry
as old King Cole, if " the blood " should happen to notice him more
than usual. Alas! poor worms, in what paltry shadows we can
glory, and forget the end that lays us all in the common comfortless
lap of Mother Earth !

Nothing therefore will more irretrievably stamp you as vulgar in
really good society, than the repeated introduction of the names of
the nobility, or even of distinguished personages, in reference to
yourself. It is absurd to suppose that you can reflect the light Of
these greater orbs ; on the contrary, your mention of them naturally
suggests a comparison, such as one makes between the unpretending
glorious sun, and the pale pitiable moon, when she quits her proper
sphere and forces herself into broad daylight. When Scribbles of
the Seal and Tape Office tells us he was flirting last night with Lady

Adelaide, when the Duke of came up, and "shook hands with

me, 'pon honor he did," I am tempted to think Scribbles either a
gross exaggerator, or a grosser snob. When worthy Mrs. Midge re-
lates for the thirteenth time how she travelled down with ' ' Her
Grace," and I see how her eyes glow, and how vainly she attempts
to appear indifferent to the honor (which it is to her) , she only proves
to me how small she must feel herself to be, to hope to gain bril-
liance by such a slight contact. I feel fain to remind her of the
Indian fable of a lump of crystal, which thought it would be mis-
taken for gold because it reflected the glitter of the neighboring
metal. It was never taken for gold, but it was supposed to cover it,
and got shivered to atoms by the hammer of the miner.

But when this vulgarity is reduced to practice it becomes actual
3

34 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIxlL OBSERVANCES.

meanness. The race of panders, parasites, or "flunkies," as they
are now called, is one which has flourished through all time, and
the satire of all ages has been freely levelled at their servile trucu-
lency. But, in general, they have had a substantial object in view,
and mean as he may be, a courtier who flattered for place or for
money, is somehow less contemptible than the modern groveller
who panders to the great from pure respect of their greatness, from
pure want of self-respect. I am not one of those who deny r^osition
its rights ; and as long as caste is recognized in this country, I
would have respect shown from one of a lower to one of a higher
class. But this respect for the position must not be blind ; it should
not extend to worship of the man. No rank, no wealth, no dis-
tinction, even if gained by merit, should close our eyes to actual un-
worthiness in its holder. We may bow to the nobility of my lord,
but we are truculent slaves if we call it nobleness. We may respect
with dignity the accident of birth and wealth, but if the duke be
an acknowledged reprobate, or the millionnaire a selfish grasper, we
are inexcusable if we allow their accidental distinctions to blot out
their glaring faults. What we should hate in our friend, and pun-
ish in our servant, we must never overlook as a " weakness " in the
Duke or Dives. It is not mere vulgarity, it is positive unchristianity ,
hopeless injustice.

A less offensive but more ridiculous form of vulgar gentility is
that which displays itself in a pretension to superior refinement and
sensibility. We have all had our laugh at the American ladies who
talk of the " limbs " of their chairs and tables, ask for a slice from
the u bosom "of a fowl, and speak of a rump-steak as a " seat-fix-
ing," but in reality we are not far short of them, when we invent
the most far-fetched terms for trousers, and our young ladies faint
— or try to — at the mention of a petticoat, — Honi soit qui mal y
pense; and shame indeed to the man, still more to the woman,
whose mind is so impure, that the mere name of one common object
immediately suggests another which decency excludes from conver-

HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. 35

sation. It is indeed difficult to define in what indelicacy consists
and where it begins, but it is clear that nature has intended some
things to be hidden ; and civilization, removing farther and farthei
from nature, yet not going against it, has added many more. In
this respect, civilization has become a second nature, and what it has
once concealed cannot be exposed without indelicacy. For instance,
nothing is more beautiful than the bosom of a woman, and to a pure
mind there is nothing shocking, but something touching indeed, in
seeing a poor woman who has no bread to give it, suckling her child
in public. Still civilization has covered the bosom, and the ladies
who wear their dresses off their shoulders are, in the present day,
guilty of an immodesty which was none in the days when Lely
painted — on canvas, I mean — the beauties of Charles' court.

But to go beyond the received opinion of the majority is super-
refinement and vulgarity, and too often tempts us to fancy that an
impure association has suggested the idea of impropriety. I cannot
imagine what indelicate fancy those people must have who will not
allow us to say l ' go to bed," but substitute ' ' retire to rest. " Surely
the couch where dewy sleep drowns our cares and refreshes our wearied
forms ; where we dream those dreams which to some are the only
bright spots of their lives ; where we escape for a time from the
grinding of the worldly mill, from hunger, calumny, persecution,
and dream maybe of heaven itself and future relief; — surely our
pure simple beds are too sacred to be polluted with the impure con-
structions of these vulgar prudes. Or, again, what more beautiful
word than woman ? woman, man's ruin first, and since then alter-
nately his destroyer and saviour; woman, who consoles, raises,
cherishes, refines us ; and yet I must forget that you are a woman,
and only call you a lady. "Lady" is a beautiful name, a high,
noble name, but it is not dear and near to me like u woman." Yet
if I speak of you as a woman, you leap up and tell me you will not
stay to be insulted. Poor silly little thing, I gave you the name I
loved best, and you, not I, connected some horrid idea with it; is

36 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

your mind or mine at fault ? Perhaps the most delightful instance
of this indelicate delicacy of terms was in the case of the elderly
spinster — of whom I was told the other day — who kept poultry, but
always spoke of the cock as the ' ' hen's companion. "

In short, it amounts to this. If it be indelicate to mention a
thing, let it never be mentioned by any name whatever ; if it be not
indelicate to mention it, it cannot be so to use its ordinary proper
name. If legs are naughty, let us never speak of them ; if not
naughty, why blush to call them legs ? The change of name can-
not change the idea suggested by it. If legs be a naughty idea,
then no recourse to u limbs " will save you. You have spoken of
legs, though, under another name ; you thought of legs, you meant
legs ; you suggested legs to me under that other name ; you are
clearly an egregious sinner; you are like the French soldier, you will
swear by the " saprement," saving his wretched little conscience by
the change of a single letter. That reminds me of a nautical friend
who " cured" himself, he said, of the bad habit of swearing, by
using, instead of oaths, the words Rotter — , Amster — , Potz — , and
Schie — , mentally reserving the final syllable of these names of
towns, &c. , and fully convinced that he did well.

That same habit of demi-swearing is another bit of pretension,
which, if it cannot be called vulgarity, is certainly Pharisaical. The
young lady would cut you — properly enough — for using an oath,
who will nevertheless cry "bother" when her boot-lace breaks, or
what not. But u bother" is only the feminine form of your Saxon
expletive, and means in reality just as much. So, too, your man who
would cut his throat sooner than use a bad word, will nevertheless
write it ud — n," as if everybody did not know what two letters
were left out. There is great hypocrisy about these things.

But the worst vulgarity is an assumption of refinement in the
choice of language; This is common among servants in England,
and in the lower orders in France and Germany, where it is some-
times very amusing to hear fine words murdered and used in any

GENTILITY IN LANGUAGE. 37

but the right sense. Mrs. Malaprop saves me any trouble of going
into details on this point, but I may observe that the best speakers
will never use a Latin word where an Anglo-Saxon one will do as
well: "buy "is better than "purchase," "wish" than "desire,"
and so on. The small genteel, you will observe, never speak of rich
and poor, but of "those of large and those of small means." An-
other similar piece of flummery is the expression, " If anything
should happen to me," which everybody knows you mean for, " if I
should die." As you do not conceal your meaning, why not speak
out bravely ?

Besides in words, there is an over-refinement in habits. Even
cleanliness can be exaggerated, as in the case of the Pharisees, and
the late Duke of Queensberry, who would wash in nothing but milk.
Our own Queen uses distilled water only for her toilet ; but this is
not a case in point, since it is for the sake of health, I believe, with
her. A sad case, however, was that of the lovely Princess Alexan-
andrina, of Bavaria, who died from over-cleanliness. It began by
extreme scrupulousness. At dinner she would minutely examine her
plate, and if she saw the slightest speck on it, would send for an-
other. She would then turn the napkin round and round to exam-
ine every corner, and often rise from the table because she thought
she was not served properly in this respect. At last it became a
monomania, till on plates, napkins, dishes, table-cloth, and every-
thing else, she believed she saw nothing but masses of dirt. It
weighed on her mind, poor thing ! she could not be clean enough,
and it drove her to insanity.

Anne of Austria could not lay her delicate limbs in any but cam-
bric sheets, and there are many young gentlemen in England who
look on you as a depraved barbarian, if you do not wear silk stock-
ings under your boots. Silver-spoonism is, after all, vulgarity ; it is
an assumption of delicacy superior to the majority; and so, too, is
prudery, which is only an assumption of superior modesty.

In short, refinement must not war against nature, but go along

33 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

with, it, and the true gentleman can do anything that is not coarse
or wrong. Fitzlow, who cannot lift his own carpet-bag into his own
cab ; Startup, who cannot. put a lump of coal on the fire ; Miss Lan-
guish, who " never touched a needle ;" and Miss Listless, who thinks
it low to rake the beds in the garden, or tie up a head of roses, arc
not ladies and gentlemen, but vulgar people. It rather astonishes
such persons that a nobleman can carry his bag, and stir his fire, and
that a noble lady delights in gardening.

But I shall risk the imputation of over-refinement myself if I say
more on this point, and so I come to the third class of bad society
in which the manners and breeding are perfect, and the morals bad,
which is the most dangerous class there is. Without agreeing at
all with the Chartist school in their views of the aristocracy, I think
it must be acknowledged that this class of bad society is found
mostly among the upper circles of society, and for the simple reason
that except among them vice is generally accompanied with bad
manners. We have historical proofs in any quantity of this class
being aristocratic. The vice of courts is proverbial, but courtly
manners are reckoned as the best. All the beaux and half the wits
on record have led bad lives. Chesterfield himself was a dissolute
gambler, and repented bitterly in his old age of his past life, and it
is he who says, that the best company is not necessarily the most
moral, which determines the value of Ms work on Etiquette. There
is, however, something in the vice of this kind of society which at
once makes it the most and least dangerous. All vice is here gilded ;
it is made elegant and covered with a gloss of good-breeding. Men
of family have to mix with ladies, and ladies of family have almost
public reputations to keep up. All that is done is sub rosa. There
are none of the grosser vices admitted in the present day. There is
no drunkenness, little or no swearing, no coarseness. But there is
enough of gambling still to ruin a young man, and the ' ' social evil "
here takes its most elegant and most seductive form. While, there-
fore, on the one hand, you may mix in this kind of society, and see

SOCIETY UNDER GOOD QUEEJT BESS. 39

and therefore know very little of its immorality, its vices, when
known to yon, assnme a fashionable prestige and a certain delicacy
which seem to deprive them of their grossness and make them the
more tempting. Let ns therefore call no society good, till we have
sounded its morals as well as its manners ; and this brings ns to speak
of what good society really is.

We cannot do this better than by looking first into what is gener-
ally taken as good society. I shall, therefore, glance over the state
of society in different ages m. this conntry, and in the present day
on the Continent.

The real civilization of England can scarcely be dated earlier than
at the R,ef orrnation, and even then the turbulent state of the conn-
try, setting one man' s knife against another, and leaving when blood-
shed was shamed back the same deadly hatred showing itself in
open reproaches and secret attacks, made social gatherings a diffi-
culty, if not an impossibility. Henry VIII. , indeed, had a some-
what jovial court, but the country itself was far too unsettled to
join much in the merriment. In fact, up to the time of Charles I.,
there were but three kinds of society in England : the court, around
which all the nobility gathered, making London a Helicon of man-
ners ; the small country gentry who could not come up to London ;
and the country people, among whom manners were as rude as among
the serfs of Russia in the present day. In the court there had suc-
ceeded to real chivalry a kind of false principle of honor. A man
who wore a sword was bound to use it. Quarrels were made rap-
idly, and rapidly patched up by reference to the code of honor.
With the country gentry, the main feature was a rough hospitality.
People spoke their minds in those days without reserve, and a court-
ier was looked on as a crafty man, whose words served to conceal
rather than express his thoughts. Among the people was a yet
ruder revelry, and the morality was not of a high kind.

The position of woman is that which has always given the key to
civilization. The higher that position has been raised, the more in-

40 THE SPIBIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

fluence has thegentleness which, arises from her weakness been felt
by the other sex. In fact, the term i ' gentleman " only came in
when women were admitted into society on a par with men. A
11 gentleman" was a man who could associate with ladies. And
what was the respect exacted by and paid to woman before the time
of Charles I. , the dramatists of the Elizabethan age tell us in every
page. What must have been the education of the Virgin Queen
herself, who was not thought very ill of for allowing Leicester to be
her lady's maid, and kiss her without asking leave, and who would
have been thought a prude had she objected to the gross scenes in the
masks and plays acted before her, and found often enough even in
Shakspere. Not only were ' ' things called by their right names," but
an insidious innuendo took the place very often of better wit, and
was probably enjoyed far more.-

The country gentry lived in their moated houses at great distan-
ces from one another, and the country lady was rarely more than a
good housewife, serving a rough hospitality to her guests ; while the
gentlemen drank deep, swore pretty oaths, talked far from reserv-
edly in her presence, and pleased her most with the broadest compli-
ment to her fair form.

The dignity of Charles introduced a rather more noble bearing
among the men. and the Puritans did much to cleanse society of its
gross familiarities ; but the position of women was still a very in-
ferior one, and it was not till the beginning of the last century that
they took a prominent place in society. There had gradually sprung
up another class, which gave the tone to manners. Hitherto there
had been in London only the Court circles and the bourgeoisie. But
as the lesser nobility grew richer and flocked to the large towns, they
began to form a large class apart from the Court, which gradually
narrowed its circle more and more. But good society still meant
liigh society, and Chesterfield was right in recommending his son to
seek out rank and wealth, for those who had it not were generally
badly educated and worse mannered. There was, however, one

SOCIETY IN THE LAST CENTURY. 41

class now rising into a separate existence, which the patron of man-
ners has not overlooked. It is to those men of education and mind
who, lacking rank and wealth, were still remarkable for the vivacity
of their conversation — in short to the wits — that we owe the origin
of our modern " middle classes."

The Spectator, however, proves what women were at this period.
Little educated and with no accomplishments save that of flirting a
fan, the more fashionable gave themselves up to extravagances of
dress, and were distinguished for the smartness, not the sense, of
their conversation. They were still unsuited, perhaps more so than
ever, for the companionship of intellectual men, and it was the ele-
gant triflers, like Walpole, rather than men of sound, serious minds,
who made correspondents of them. The consequence was that the
men gathered together in clubs, a species of evening society which,
while it fostered wit, destroyed the stage, and made a system of
gambling and drinking. The high society was still the best, and it
was among the nobility chiefly that women began to mix in the
amusements of the other sex. Balls, too, were no longer an enter-
tainment reserved for Court and the grandees ; and in the balls at
Bath, under Beau Nash, we find the first attempt to mingle
the gentry and bourgeoisie, and thus form the nucleus of a middle
class. It was now too that mere wealth, which could never have
brought its owner into the Court circles, or been a sufficient recom-
mendation to the nobility of the seventeeenth century, became an
authoritative introduction among the gentry.

If England is the only European country which has a real middle
class, where birth is of no account, it is owing to that law of primo-
geniture which from very remote times caused the formation of a
class known as "gentry" which has no equivalent in any Continental
country. It was this class, which belonging by connection to the
aristocracy, belonged by necessity to the bourgeoisie, from whom
they were not distinguished by actual rank. From the bourgeoisie,
indeed, they kept aloof as long as possible ; but wealth, which could

42 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

give the gentry a footing among the aristocracy, could only come
from the mercantile classes, and the rich merchant's daughter who
was married to a country gentleman soon succeeded in "bringing her
relations into his set. Towards the end, therefore, of the last century,
we find three classes between the Court and the people, namely, the
noble, the u gentle," and the rich; in other words, rank, birth, and
wealth were the requisites of society. The higher classes were still
the best educated, but the wealthy looked to education to fit them
for the circles of the gentry, and women being better educated took
a more important place in social arrangements.

In this century these classes began to draw together. The noble
sought wives among the rich ; the rich became gentle in a couple of
generations ; and the gentry became rich by marriage.

But if a merchant or successful speculator were admitted in
higher circles, the professional man, who could go to Court and had
always taken precedence of trade, could not be excluded. Hitherto,
the liberal professions and literature had occupied a kind of depend-
ent position. The clergyman was almost a retainer of the squire's,
the lawyer was the landowner's agent, the doctor had his great pa-
tron, and the writer often lived on the money given for fulsome
dedications to those noblemen and others who wished to appear in
the light of a Maecenas. These distinctions, however, were lost in
great cities, and the growth of the population gave to at least three
of these professions a public which paid as well as, and exacted less
adulation than the oligarchy ; not indeed giving less trouble, for we
*have now a thousand tastes to study instead of one, a thousand
prejudices to respect ; and if we do not write fulsome dedications to
the public, we are no less compelled to insert every here and there
that artful flattery which makes John Bull appear in the light of —
I do not say the best and most noble — but the richest, most power-
ful, most thriving, most honest, most amiably faulty, but magnani-
mously virtuous of publics.

But I am not flattering you, Mr. Bull, when I tell you that in re-

THE MIDDLE CLASSES. 43

spect of your middle classes you have made a vast step in advance of
all other nations. For what does the middle class mean? Not
twenty years ago it was taken to represent only the better portion of
the commercial and lower half of professional society. I well re-
member with what a sneer some people spoke of a merchant, and
the gulf that the barrister and physician asserted to exist between
them and the lawyer and general practitioner. And how is it now ?
How many gentlemen of old family would now decline an introduc-
tion to a well-educated merchant ? How many rather would now
recommend their sons to be constant visitors on the merchant's
wife and daughters ? Is it not the barrister who now flatters the
attorney, and where is the distinction between physician and sur-
geon ? No ; the middle class has an enormous extent now, and even
the landed gentry, when brought to town, mingle freely and gladly
with commerce and the professions. In fact, we are more and more
widening our range. The nobleman takes a partnership in a brew-
ery, on the one hand ; on the other, the haberdasher sits in Parlia-
ment, and sends his son to Oxford. The gentry, throwing over
birth as a useless commodity, rush into commerce and the profes-
sions. Dukes and peers are delighted to make money by writing, if
they do not confess to writing for money. The merchant is at last
received at Court; the banker is a peer; the shop-boy who has
worked his way to the Woolsack brings with him a sympathy for
shop-boys {perhaps), which lessens the gulf between trade and aris-
tocracy ; and beholding these and many other wonders, you exclaim
with glee : "It is an age of unity, caste is obliterated, and in an-
other fifty years even the distinction of a title will be gone, and the
mid die -class will comprise all who are educated.

Softly, softly, my friend ; no Utopias, if you please. Caste may
be abolished in name, but it will exist in feeling for many an age,
though its limitations be not those of rank, birth, and wealth. Y\Te
used to say at the university that the larger a college, the smaller
its sets, and that you knew more men in a small college than you

44 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

possibly could in a large one. It is the same with the middle, or as
it is now called the educated class. The larger it grows, the more
it will split up into classes which may have no name, and may be
separated by very slight distinctions, but which will in reality, if
not in appearance, be as far apart in feeling as the old castes were
in every respect. In short, " good society " has substituted for the
old distinctions of rank, birth, wealth, and intellectual pre-emi-
nence, one less distinct in appearance, far more subtle, but far
more difficult to attain. Indeed, rank and birth were gifts, wealth
often came by inheritance, and a man might be born a wit or a
genius, but that which has taken their place as a test can be ac-
quired only by education, careful study, and observation, followed
up by practice. It goes by the name of "breeding," and when
people talk to you of innate good breeding, they speak of an impos-
sibility. Some of its necessary qualities may be innate, and these
may show themselves on occasions, and be mistaken for good-breed-
ing itself, but a further acquaintance may reveal the possessor in a
different light. Good-breeding is only acquired, being taught us by
our nurses, our parents, our tutors, our school-fellows, our friends,
our enemies still more, and our experience everywhere ; and yet not
one of these teachers may possess it themselves ; many as nurses
and school-fellows certainly do not. It is breeding which now
divides the one class you claim to exist, into so many classes, all of
which are educated. One set has no breeding at all, another has a
little, another more, another enough, and another too much — for
this also is possible — and between that which has none, and that
which has enough, there are more shades than in the rainbow.

We can now therefore speak of the principal requisites of good
society, of which good-breeding — that is, enough and not too much
of it— is the first. I have shown that, until the development of a
middle class, the best society (not in a moral, but general point of
view) was to be found among the aristocracy. Hence the word
" aristocratic " has come to mean "good for society," and therefore

THE MIDDLE CLASSES. 45

while I premise that the best society is not now high society either
by wealth, birth, or distinction, I shall also premise that good so-
ciety is essentially aristocratic in the sense in which we speak of
aristocratic beauty, aristocratic bearing, aristocratic appearance and
manners.

The first indispensable requisite for good society is education. By
this I do not mean the so-called " finished education " of a univer-
sity or a boarding-school. I think it will be found that these estab-
lishments put their ' ' finish " somewhere in the middle of the course ;
they may possibly finish you as far as teachers can, but the educa-
tion which is to fit you for good society must be pursued long after
you leave them, as it ought to have been begun long before you
went to them. This education should have commenced with devel-
oping the mental powers, and especially the comprehension. A man
should be able, in order to enter into conversation, to catch rapidly
the meaning of anything that is advanced ; for instance, though
you know nothing of science, you should not be obliged to stare and
be silent, when a man who does understand it is explaining a new
discovery or a new theory ; though you have not read a word of
Blackstone, your comprehensive powers should be sufficiently acute
to enable you to take in the statement that may be made of a recent
cause ; though you may not have read some particular book, you
should be capable of appreciating the criticism which you hear of it.
Without such a power— simple enough and easily attained by atten-
tion and practice, yet too seldom met with in general society — a ocn-
versation which departs from the most ordinary topics cannot be
maintained without the risk of lapsing into a lecture ; with such a
power society becomes instructive as well as amusing, and you have
no remorse at an evening's end at having wasted three or four hours
in profitless banter or simpering platitudes. This facility of com-
prehension often startles us in some women, whose education we
know to have been poor, and whose reading is limited. If they did
not rapidly receive your ideas, they could not therefore be fit com-

46 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

panions for intellectual men, and it is perhaps their consciousness of
a deficiency which leads them to pay the more attention to what
you say. It is this which makes married women so much more
agreeable to men of thought than young ladies, as a rule, can be, for
they are accustomed to the society of a husband, and the effort to
be a companion to his mind has engrafted the habit of attention and
ready reply.

No less important is the cultivation of taste. If it is tiresome
and deadening to be with people who cannot understand, and will
not even appear to be interested in your better thoughts, it is almost
repulsive to find a man, still more a woman, insensible to all beauty,
and immovable by any horror. I remember passing through the
galleries of Hampton Court with a lady of this kind in whom I had
in vain looked for enthusiasm. u Ah ! " I exclaimed, as we passed
into a well-known gallery, ' ' we are come at last to Raphael's car-
toons."

"Are we?1' she asked languidly, as we stdod in the presence of
those grand conceptions. " Dear me, how high the fountain's play-
ing in the court ! "

In the present day an acquaintance with art, even if you have no
love for it, is a sine qua non of good society. Music and painting
are subjects which will be discussed in every direction around you.
It is only in bad society that people go to the opera, concerts, and
art-exhibitions merely because it is the fashion, or to say they have
been there ; and if you confessed to such a weakness in really good
society, you would be justly voted a puppy. For this, too, some
book-knowledge is indispensable. You should at least know the
names of the more celebrated artists, composers, architects, sculp-
tors, and so forth, and should be able to approximate their several
schools.

" I have just bought a Hobbima," was said to Mrs. B. the other
day. " What shall you put into it ? " said she, hoping to conceal her
ignorance.

CULTIVATION OF TASTE. 47

So, too, you should know pretty accurately the pronunciation of
celebrated names, or, if not, take care not to use them. An ac-
quaintance of mine is always talking about pictures, and asks me
how I like iJannibal Carrao?i, and GMrlanda^o. It was the same
person who, seeing at the bottom of a rare engraving the name
u Raphael Mengs," said in a kind of musing rapture, "Beautiful
thing, indeed, quite in Raphael's earlier style ; you can trace the
influence of Perugino in that figure." So, too, it will never do to
be ignorant of the names and approximate ages of great composers,
especially in London, where music is so highly appreciated and so
common a theme. It will be decidedly condemnatory if you talk of
the new opera, " Don Giovanni," of Rossini s " Trovatore, " or are
ignorant who composed u Fidelio," and in what opera occur such
common pieces as " Ciascun lo dice " or u II segreto." I do not say
that these trifles are indispensable, and when a man has better
knowledge to offer, especially with genius, or " cleverness" to back
it, he will not only be pardoned for an ignorance of them, but can
even take a high tone and profess indifference or contempt of them.
But at the same time such ignorance stamps an ordinary man, and
hinders conversation. On the other hand, the best society will not
endure dilettanteism, and whatever the knowledge a man may possess
of any art, he must not display it so as to make the ignorance of
others painful to them. We are gentlemen, not picture-dealers.
But this applies to every topic. To have only one or two subjects
to converse on, and to discourse rather than talk on them, is always
ill-bred, whether the theme be literature or horse-flesh. The New-
market lounger would probably denounce the former as " a bore,"
and call us pedants for dwelling on it ; but if, as is too often the
case, he can give us nothing more general than a discussion of the
" points" of a mare that perhaps we have never seen, he is as great
a pedant in his way.

Reason plays a less conspicuous part in good society, because its
frequenters are too reasonable to be mere reasoners. A disputation

48 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

is always dangerous to temper, and tedious to those who cannot feel
as eager as the disputants ; a discussion, on the other hand, in which
everybody has a chance of stating amicably and unobtrusively his
or her opinion, must be of frequent occurrence. But to cultivate
the reason, besides its high moral value, has the advantage of ena-
bling one to reply as well as to attend to the opinions of others.
Nothing is more tedious or disheartening than a perpetual ' ; Yes,
just so," and nothing more. Conversation must never be one-sided.
Then, again, the reason enables us to support a fancy or opinion,
when we are asked why we think so and so. To reply, ' ' I don't
know, but still I think so," is silly in a man and tedious in a woman.
But there is a part of our education so important and so neglected in
our schools and colleges, that it cannot be too highly impressed on
parents on the one hand, and young people on the other. I mean
that which we leam first of all things, yet often have not learned
fully when Death eases us of the necessity — the art of speaking
our own language. What can Greek and Latin, French and
German, be for us in our e very-day life, if we have not acquired
this ? We are often encouraged to raise a laugh at Doctor Syntax
and the tyranny of Grammar, but we may be certain that more
misunderstandings, and therefore more difficulties, arise between
men in the commonest intercourse from a Want of grammatical
precision, than from any other cause. It was once the fashion to
neglect grammar, as it now is with certain people to write illegibly,
and in the days of Goethe, a man thought himself a genius if he
could spell badly. How much this simple knowledge is neglected
in England, even among the upper classes, is shown by the results
of the examinations for the army and the civil services; how
valuable it is, is now generally acknowledged by men of sound
sense. Precision and accuracy must begin in the very outset ; and
if we neglect them in grammar, we shall scarcely acquire them in
expressing our thoughts, but since there is no society without inter-
change of thought, and since the best society is that in which the

LANGUAGE. 49

best thoughts are interchanged in the best and most comprehensible
manner, it follows that a proper mode of expressing ourselves is
indispensable to good society.

There is one poor neglected letter, the subject of a poetical
charade by Byron, which people in the present day have made the
test of fitness for good society. For my part, I would sooner associ-
ate with a man who dropped that eighth letter of our alphabet than
with one who spoke bad grammar and expressed himself ill. But if
he has not learned "to pronounce a letter properly, it is scarcely
probable that he will have studied the art of speech at all. It is
amusing to hear the ingenious excuses made by people for this
neglect. "Mrs. A ," one person tells you, " is a woman of excel-
lent education. You must not be surprised at her dropping her ffs ;
it is a Staffordshire habit, and she has lived all her life in that
county." I fancy that it is not Staffordshire or any other shire that
can be saddled with the fault. It is simply a habit of ill-bred people
everywhere throughout the three kingdoms. Nor is the plea of dia-
lect any real excuse. It is a peculiarity of Middlesex dialect to put
a v for a w, and a w for a v. Would any one on that account present
Mr. Samivel Veller as a gentleman of good education, with a slight
peculiarity of dialect in his speech ? Good society uses the same
language everywhere, and dialects ought to be got rid of in those
who would frequent it. The language of Burns may be very beau-
tiful in poetry, and the ballads of Moore may gain much from a
strong Irish brogue, but if we object to London slang in conversa-
tion, we have as much right to object to local peculiarities which
make your speech either incomprehensible or ridiculous ; and cer-
tain it is that the persons whose strong nationality induces them to
retain their Scotch or Irish idiom and accent, are always ready to
protest against Americanisms, and would be very much bothered if a
Yorkshire landowner were to introduce his local drawl into the draw-
ing-room. Localism is not patriotism, and therefore until the Union
is dissolved we must request people to talk English in English society.
4

50 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

The art of expressing one's thought's neatly and suitably is one
which, in the neglect of rhetoric as a study, we must practise for
ourselves. The commonest thought well put is more useful in a
social point of view than the most brilliant idea jumbled out. What
is well expressed is easily seized and therefore readily responded to ;
the most poetic fancy may be lost to the hearer if the language
which conveys it is obscure. Speech is the gift which distinguishes
man from animals, and makes society possible. He has but a poor
appreciation of his high privilege as a human being, who neglects to
cultivate " G-od's great gift of speech."

As I am not writing for men of genius, but for ordinary beings, I am
right to state that an indispensable part of education is a knowledge
of English literature. But how to read is, for society, more import-
ant than what we read. The man who takes up nothing but a news-
paper, but reads it to tMnk, to deduct conclusions from its premises,
and form a judgment on its opinions, is more fitted for society than
he, who, having a large box regularly from Mudie's, and devoting
his whole day to its contents, swallows it all without digestion. In
fact, the mind must be treated like the body, and however great
its appetite, it will soon fall into bad health, if it gorges but does
not ruminate. At the same time an acquaintance with the best
current literature is necessary to modern society, and it is not suffi-
cient to have read a book without being able to pass a judgment on
it. Conversation on literature is impossible, when your respondent
can only say, " Yes, I like the book, but I really don't know why."
Or what can we do with the young lady whose literary stock is as
limited as that of the daughter of a late eminent member of Parlia-
ment, whom a friend of mine had once to take down to dinner ?

He had tried her on music and painting in vain. She had no taste
for either. Society was as barren a theme, for papa did not approve
of any but dinner parties.

" Then I suppose you read a great deal ? " asked my friend.

" Oh, yes ! we read."

LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE. 51

44 Light literature?"

" Oh, yes ! light literature."

" Novels, for instance ? "

" Oh, yes ! novels."

4< Do you like Dickens ? "

14 We don't read Dickens."

1 ' Oh ! I see you are of Thackeray's party. "

44 We never read Thackeray."

41 Then you are romantic, and devoted to Bulwer Lytton ? "

44 Never," replied the young lady, rather shocked.

44 Then which is your favorite novelist ? "

44 James," she replied triumphantly.

44 Ah ! " said my friend, reviving a little, " James is exciting."

44 Oh, yes ! we like his books so much ! Papa reads them aloud
to us, but then he misses out all the exciting parts. "

After that my friend found his knife and fork better company
than his neighbor.

An acquaintance with old English literature is not perhaps indis-
pensable, but it gives a man great advantage in all kinds of society,
and in some he is at constant loss without it. The same may be said
of foreign literature, which in the present day is almost as much dis-
cussed as our own; but, on the other hand, an acquaintance with
home and foreign politics, with current history, and every subject of
passing interest, is absolutely necessary ; and a person of sufficient
intelligence to join in good society cannot dispense with his daily
newspaper, his literary journal and the principal quarterly reviews and
magazines. The cheapness of every kind of literature, the facilities
of our well-stored circulating libraries, our public reading-rooms and
numerous excellent lectures on every possible subject, leave no ex-
cuse to poor or rich for an ignorance of any of the topics discussed in
intellectual society. You may forget your Latin, Greek, French, Ger-
man, and Mathematics, but if you frequent good company you will
never be allowed to forget that you are a citizen of the world.

52 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

The respect for moral character is a distinguishing mark of good
society in this country, as compared with that of the Continent.
No rank, no wealth, no celebrity will induce a well-bred English
lady to admit to her drawing-room a man or woman whose character
is known to be bad. Society is a severe censor, pitiless and remorse-
less. The woman who has once fallen, the man who has once lost
his honor, may repent for years ; good society shuts its doors on
them once and forever. Perhaps this is the only case in which the
best society is antagonistic to Christianity ; but, in extenuation, it
must be remembered that there is no court in which to try those who
shi against it. Society itself is the court in which are judged those
many offences which the law cannot reach, and this inclemency of
the world, this exile for life which it pronounces, must be regarded
as the only deterrent against certain sins. There is little or no
means of punishing the seducer, the cheat, the habitual drunkard
and gambler, and men and women who indulge in illicit pleasures,
except this one verdict of perpetual expulsion pronounced by good
society. Often is it given without a fair trial, on the report of a
slanderer ; often it falls upon the wrong head ; often it proves its in-
justice in ignoring the vices of one and fulminating against those of
another ; often, by its implacability, drives the offender to despair,
and makes the one false step lead to the ruin of a life : but it must
be remembered what interests society has to protect — the purity of
daughters, wives, and sisters, the honor of sons ; it must be allowed
that its means of obtaining evidence is very slight ; and that, on
the other hand, it cannot institute an inquisition into the conduct of
all its members, since the mere suspicion which such an inquiry would
excite is sufficient to ruin a character that might prove to be innocent.
Society, then, is forced to judge by common report, and though it may
often judge wrongly, it generally errs on the safe side. What it still
wants, and must perhaps always want, is some check on the slander
and calumny which misleads its judgment. We want some tribunal
which, without blasting a reputation, can call to account the low

MORAL CHARACTER. 53

sneak who lounges into a club-room, and actuated by pique, whispers
into a friend's ear, uin strictest confidence," some silly slur on a
lady' s character, knowing that it will pass from mouth to mouth,
growing bigger and bigger, and that it can never be traced back to
the original utterer. We want to put down those old maids and
dowagers who shake their cork-screw ringlets at the mention of a
name, and look as if they knew a great deal which they would not
tell. We want gossip and scandal to be held a sin, as it is already
held bad taste, and a higher tone which shall reject as inventions -the
pot-house stories of grooms and lackeys, and receive with greater
caution the gossip of the club-room. Howmany a fair fame of a
virtuous girl is ruined by the man she has rejected ; how many an
Iago lives and thrives in society to the present day ; how many a
young man is blackened by a rival ; how many a man we meet in
the best circles whose chambers are the scene of debauchery, or
who carries on an illicit connection in secret, unexposed. These
things make us bitter to the world, but, if we cannot see the remedy
we must endure them silently. Oh ! if the calumniator, male or
female, could be hanged as high as Haman ; if the ninth command-
ment, like the eighth, could be punished with death, many a hope-
ful career were not blighted at its outset, many an innocent woman
were not driven from her home and thrust into the very jaws of sin,
and the world would be happier, and far more Christian.

In the meantime good society discountenances gossip, and that is
all it can do for the present. Fathers and husbands must be careful
whom they introduce to their families, and every one should beware
how they repeat what has been told them of their neighbors. There
is in the church of Walton-on-Thames a kind of iron gag made to
fit upon the face, and bearing this inscription :

"Thys is a brydel
For the women of Walton who speake so ydel.'1

I know not what poor creature, blasted by a venomous tongue, in-

54 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

vented and gave to the church, this quaint relic ; I only wish that
every parish church had one, and that every slanderer might be
forced to wear it. One ! did I say ? we should want a hundred in
some parishes, all in use at the same time.

A discourteous but well-merited reply which I heard the other day,
reminds me that good temper is an essential of good society. A
young lady, irritated because a gentleman would not agree with her
on some matter, lost her balance, and irritably exclaimed, " Oh,
Mr. A— — , you have only two ideas in your head." ' ' You are right, "
replied the gentleman, " I have only two ideas, and one of them is
that you do not know how to behave yourself."

Temper has a great deal to answer for, and it would take a volume
to discuss its effect on the affairs of the world. It is a vice of old
and young of both sexes^ of high and low, even I may say of good
and bad, though a person who has not conquered it scarcely merits
the name of good, though he should regenerate mankind. Monarchs
have lost kingdoms, maidens lovers, and everybody friends, by the
imtation of a moment, and in society a display of ill-temper is fatal
to harmony, and thus destroys the first principle of social meetings.
We pardon it, we overlook it, and sometimes it even amuses us, but,
sooner or later, it must chill back love and freeze friendship. In
short, it makes society unbearable, and is justly pronounced to be
disgustingly vulgar. I used once to frequent the house of a man
who had every requisite for being charming but that of a command
of temper. He gave dinner-parties which ought to have been most
pleasant. He was well-educated, well-informed, well-mannered in
every other respect. The first time I dined with him before I had
seen anything of this failing, I was horror-struck by hearing him say
to a servant, " Confound you, will you take that dish to the other
end ! " Of course I paid no attention, but hoping to cover him,
talked loudly and eagerly. It was useless. The servant blundered
and the master thundered, till at last there was a dead silence round
the table, and we all looked down into our plates. The mistress of

TEMPER. 55

the house made the matter worse by putting- in at last, u My dear
Charles, do be moderate," and the irritable man only increased the
awkwardness by an irritable reply. I overlooked this, and dined
there again, but only once. This time it was his daughter who
offended by some innocent remark. "Really you're quite a fool,
Jane," he said, turning savagely upon her, and the poor girl burst
into tears. Our appetites were spoiled, our indignation rose, and
though we sat through the dinner, we all of us probably repeated
Solomon's proverb about a dry morsel where love is, and a stalled ox
with contention thereby, which I, for one, interpreted to mean that
my chop and pint of ale at home would, for the future, be far more
appetitlich than my friend's turtle and turbot.

As there is nothing to which an Englishman clings so tenaciously
as his opinions, there are few things which rouse the temper so
rapidly as an argument. In good society all disputation is eschewed,
and particularly that which involves party politics and sectarian
religion. It is at least wise to discover what are the views of your
company before you venture on these subjects. Zeal, however
well-meant, must, as St. Paul warns us, often be sacrificed to peace ;
and where you cannot agree, and feel that to reply would lead you
into an argument, it is best to be silent. At the same time there
are some occasions where silence is servile. No man should sit still
to hear sacred things blasphemed, or his friend abused. The gentle-
man must yield to the Man where an atheist reviles Christianity, a
Chartist abuses the Queen, or anybody speaks ill of the listener's
friend or relation. Even then he best marks his indignation by rising
and leaving the room. Nor need any man fear the imputation of
cowardice, if he curbs his anger at direct abuse of himself. "A
soft answer turneth away wrath ; " and if he cannot check his own
feelings sufficiently to reply in a conciliatory tone, no one can
blame him if coolly and politely he expresses to his antagonist his
opinion of his bad manners. The feeling of the company will always
go with the man who keeps his temper, for not only does society feel

56 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

that to vent wrath is a breach of its laws, but it knows, that to con-
quer one's self is a far more difficult task than to overcome an
enemy ; and that, therefore, the man who keeps his temper is really
strong and truly courageous. In fact the Christian rule is here (as
it should always be) that of society ; and the man who offers his left
cheek to the blow, displays not only the rarest Christian virtue, but
the very finest politeness, which, while it teems with delicate irony,
at once disarms the attacker, and enlists the pity and sympathy, if
not the applause, of the bystanders. Of course I speak of blows
metaphorically. A blow with the hand is rarely if ever given in
good society.

Another case in which the Christian and the social rule coincide,
if not in reality at least in appearance, is that of private animosities.
Of the " cut " as a necessary social weapon, I shall speak elsewhere,
but it now suffices to say, that when given for the first time with a
view to breaking off an acquaintance, it should not be done con-
spicuously, nor before a number of people. Its object is not to wound
and cause confusion, but to make known to the person " cut " that
your feelings towards him are changed. In good society no one ever
cuts another in such a manner as to be generally remarked, and the
reason is obvious : It causes awkwardness and confusion in the rest
of the company. It is worse. Between a guest and host the relation
is supposed to be friendly : if not so, it can always be immediately
discontinued ; so that generally the ill will must be between one
guest and another under the same roof. But what does it then
amount to ? Is it not a slur upon your host's judgment ? Is it not
as much as to say, " This man is unfit for me to know ; and, since you
are his friend, you must be unworthy of me too ? " At any rate, it is
mortifying to a host to find that he has brought two enemies together,
and, with the respect due from a guest to a host you must abstain
from making his house a field of battle. There is no occasion for
hypocrisy. Politeness, cold and distant if you like it, can cost you
nothing, and is never taken to mean friendship. In short, harmony

HOSPITALITY. 57

and peace are the rules of good society, as of Christianity, and its
denizens can and do throw aside the most bitter enmities when
meeting on the neutral ground of a friend's house. Nor is the
armistice without its value. Like that between Austria and France,
it is not unfrequently followed by overtures of peace ; and I have
known two people who had not interchanged two words for a score
of years, shake hands before they left a house where they had been
accidentally brought together. Had they not been well-bred this
reconciliation could never have taken place.

The relations of guest to guest are not so well understood in this
country as on the Continent. There your host's friends are for the
time your friends. When you enter a room you have a right to
speak to and be addressed by everybody present. The friendship of
your host, declared, as it were, in his inviting them there, is a suffi-
cient recommendation and introduction to every one of his guests.
If you and they are good enough for him to invite, you and they are
good enough for each other to know, and it is, therefore, an insult
to your host to remain next to a person for a long time without ad-
dressing him. In exclusive England we require that our host or
hostess shall give a special introduction to every guest, but in the
best society this is not absolutely necessary. Exclusiveness is voted
to be of bad style ; and two people who sat next to one another for
a long time, with no one to talk to, would be thought ill-bred as
well as ridiculous if they waited for the formal introduction to
exchange a few words, at least at a party where conversation was
the main object.

As we boast of English hospitality, it is a wonder that we do not
better observe the relations of host and guest. On the Continent
any man, whether you know him or not, who has crossed your
threshold with friendly intent, is your guest, and you are bound to
treat him as one. In England a friend must introduce him, unless he
has the ingenuity of Theodore Hook, who always introduced himself
where there was a dinner going on, and managed to make himself

58 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

welcome, too ; but among ill-bred people even this introduction does
not suffice, and the vulgar often take pride to themselves in proving
that their houses are their castles! A late neighbor of mine, of
somewhat peppery temper, used to tell with glee how he had turned
out of his house a gentleman — an innocent but not attractive man
— who had been brought there by a common friend, but whom he
did not wish to know. I often thought when I heard the tale re-
peated, ' i How little you think you are telling a story against your-
self ! " So, too, when Arabella, speaking of Charles, with whom she
has quarrelled, tells me so proudly, " I cut him last night dead, and
before the whole party, to his utter confusion," I whisper to my-
self, " He may richly have deserved the punishment, but I would
not have been the executioner.'" In fact, whether as host or guest,
we must remember the feelings of the rest of the company, and
that a show of animosity between any of them always mars the
sense of peaceful enjoyment, for which all have met. To pick a
quarrel, to turn your back on a person, to cut him openly, or to
make audible remarks on him, are displays of temper only found in
vulgar society.

The other requisites indispensable for good society will be found
in various chapters of this work. Confidence, calm, and good
habits, are treated in the chapter on carriage. Good manners is,
more or less, the subject of the whole book, and appropriate dress,
another indispensable, is discussed under that head. Accomplish-
ments, on which I have given a chapter, are not generally considered
indispensable, and certainly a man or woman of good education and
good breeding could pass muster without them. But they lend a
great charm to society, and in some cases are a very great assistance
to it. Indeed, there are some accomplishments an ignorance of
Thich may prove extremely awkward. Perhaps, however, the most
valuable accomplishment, or rather art, especially in persons of full
age, is that of making society easy, and of entertaining. Eules and
hints for this will be given in various sections, but I may here say

TO DINNER-GIVERS. 59

that it is an art which demands no little labor and ingenuity, and if
anybody imagines that the offices of host and hostess are sinecures,
he is greatly mistaken. The great principle is that of movement.
According to the atomic theory,' warmth and brilliance are gained
by the rapidity of the atoms about one another. We are only atoms
in society after all, and we certainly get both warmth and brilliance
when we revolve round each other in the ball-room. But it is
rather mental movement that I refer to just now, although the
other is by no means unimportant, and the host and hostess should,
when possible, be continually shifting their places, easily and grace-
fully, talking to everybody more or less, and inducing others to
move. But there must be something for the minds of those as-
sembled to dwell upon; something to suggest thought, and thus
generate conversation. If the host or hostess have themselves the
talent, they should do this by continually leading the conversation,
not after the manner of Sidney Smith, who, while dinner was going
on, allowed Mackintosh, Jeffrey, and Stewart to fall into vehement
discussion, while he himself quietly made an excellent meal, and
prepared for better things. The moment the cloth was removed,
which was done in those days, the jovial wit, happier than his com-
panions who had had more of the ' ' feast of reason and the flow of
soul" than of beef and mutton, would look up and make some to-
tally irrelevant and irresistible remark, and having once raised the
laugh, would keep an easy lead of the conversation to the end.
But if they have not this art, it is highly desirable that dinner-
givers should invite their regular talker, who like the Roman para-
site, in consideration of a good dinner, will always be ready with a
fresh topic in case of a lull in the conversation, and always be able to
introduce it with something smart and lively. There is a hotel in
the city where a certain number of broken-down ecclesiastics are
always " on hand " with a couple of sermocs in pocket. If a clergy-
man is called suddenly out of town, or taken ill on the Saturday
night, or hindered from preaching by any accident, he has only to

60 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

send down a messenger and a reverend gentleman flies to him : the
sermon is at his service for the sum of one guinea, or less. IVould
it not answer to institute a similar establishment for the benefit
of dinner-givers? The only question the cleric asks is, "High or
low? He has a sermon in each pocket, "high" in the right,
"low" in the left, and produces the proper article, if he does not
by mistake forget which is in which, and astound an evangelical
congregation with the " symbols of the Church,' ' or a Tractarian one
with the "doctrine of election." In the same way, the conmva
would be always ready, in full dress, at six in the evening, and hav-
ing put the question, " Serious or gay, Whig or Tory ? " bring out his
witticisms accordingly. We do everything nowadays with money.
Mr. Harker gives out our toasts, our servants carve and give out
the wine for us. The host sits at the head or side of his table, and
only smiles and talks. The next generation will make a further im-
provement, and the host will hire a gentleman to do even the smil-
ing and talking, or, like the Emperor Augustus, he will just look in
on his guests at the middle of dinner, ask if the entremets are good,
and go to his easy-chair again in the library. Of the art of enter-
taining on various occasions I shall treat under the proper heads,
and we come now to the dispensables of good society, which I take
to be wealth, rank, birth, and talent.

Of birth there is little to say, because, if a man is fit for good
society, it can make very little difference whether his father were a
chimney-sweep or a chancellor, at least to sensible people. Indeed,
to insist on good birth in England would not only shut you out from
enjoying the society of people of no ordinary stamp, but is now
generally considered as a cowardly way of asserting your superior-
ity. A young lady said to me the other day, u I wonder you can
visit the C.'s; their mother was a cook." "Well," said I, "it is
evident she did not bring them up in the kitchen." My interlocu-
trix wore the name of a celebrated poet, and was of one of the
oldest fanilies in England, but I confess that I thought her remark

MERE WEALTH. 61

that of a snob, the more so as the C.'s happened to be the most
agreeable people I knew.

The advantages of wealth are considerable in the formation of
society. In this country, where hospitality means eating and drink-
ing, it demands money to receive your friends; and in London,
where a lady can with difficulty walk in the streets unaccompanied,
a carriage of some sort, in which to visit them, becomes almost a
necessity if you are to mix much in the world. But good society
would be very limited if every man required his brougham or cabri-
olet. In the metropolis, again, a man-servant is almost indispensa-
ble, though not quite ; and if you have the moral courage to do
without one you will find that your small dinners — always better
than large ones — will be more quietly served by women than by men.
Londoners have still to learn that large pompous u feelings " are
neither agreeable nor in good taste, and that evening meetings, for
the purpose of conversation, with as little ceremony as possible, are
far less tedious, less bilious, and less expensive.

They do these things better in Paris, where the dinner party is an
introduction of the nouveaux riches. There the £300 a year does
not exclude its owners from the enjoyment of the best, even the
highest society. They may be asked to every ball and dinner of the
season, and are not expected to return them. A witure de remise is
good enough to take them even to the Tuileries. The size of their
apartment is no obstacle to their assembling their friends simply for
tea and conversation. If the rooms are elegantly furnished and
arranged, and the lady of the house understands the art of receiving,
and selects her guests rather for their manners and conversational
powers than for position or wealth, their reception niay become
fashionable at no further expense than that of a few simple refresh-
ments which are handed about. Even dances are given without
suppers, and no one cares whether your household consists of a dozen
lackeys or a couple of maid-servants.

" Mere wealth," says Mr. Hayward, truly enough, " can do little,

62 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

■unless it be of magnitude sufficient to constitute celebrity." He
might have added, that wealth, without breeding, generally draws
the attention of others to the want of taste of its possessor, and
gives envy an object to sneer at. I remember an instance of this in
a woman who had recently, with her husband, returned from Aus-
tralia, with a large fortune. I met her at a ball in Paris ; she was
magnificently, almost regally dressed, and as she swept through the

rooms people whispered, u That is the rich Mrs. ." I had not

been introduced to her, and had no desire to be so, but I could not
escape her vulgarity. On going to fetch a cup of chocolate from

the buffet for my partner, I had to pass within a yard of Mrs. ,

who was gorging ices amid a crowd of rather inferior Frenchmen ;
there was not the slightest fear of my spilling the chocolate, and I
was too far from her to spoil her dress, had I been awkward enough
to do so ; but as I passed back, she suddenly screamed out, in very
bad French, " Monsieur, Monsieur, quoi faites-vous, vous gatery
mon robe ! " Of course everybody looked round. I bowed low, and
begged her pardon, assuring her that there was not the slightest
cause for alarm : but she was not satisfied, and while I beat a re-
treat I heard her loud voice denouncing me asa" stupid fellow,"

and so forth, and I soon found that Mrs. was pronounced to be

" atrociously vulgar" as well as immensely rich.

I cannob think that rank is a recommendation to a man with any
but vulgar people. Not every nobleman is a gentleman, and fewer
still perhaps bear that character that would entitle them to a free
entree among the well-bred. On the other hand, rank is a costly
robe, which must be worn as modestly as possible, not to spoil that
feeling of equality which is necessary to the ease of society. Some
deference must be paid to it, and the man of rank who cannot for-
get it will find himself as much in the way in a party of untitled
people, as an elephant among a troop of jackals. If titles were as
common in England as on the continent, there would be less fear of
a host devoting himself to My Lord to the neglect of his other guests,

RANK. 63

or of those guests centring their attention on the one star. In
Paris, it is only in the vulgar circles of the Chaussee d'Antin, that
" Monsieur le Comte," or u Monsieur le Marquis," is shown off as a
lion ; and in the well-bred circles in this country the nobleman
must be content with precedence, and the place of honor, and for
the rest be as one of the company. In Southern Germany, the dis-
tinction is the other way ; the simple Herr is almost as remarkable
as the man of title in England. In fact, everybody admitted to
what is there called good society has some title, whether by birth.
or office ; and a man must be highly distinguished by talents or
achievements to have the entree of the Court. I found that the
Esquire after »my name was generally translated by Baron; the
tradesmen raised it to Graf, or Count ; and the people who ' k knew

all about it," called me " Herr Esquire von ." Something in the

same way are military titles allotted to civilians in some parts of
America. A store-keeper becomes ' ; Major ; " a merchant, ' ' Colonel ; "
and a man of whom you are to ask a favor is always a " General."
Nothing can be more ill-judged than lion-hunting. If the premise
with which I set out, that society requires real or apparent equality,
be true, anything which raises a person on a pedestal unfits him for
society. The men of genius are rarely gifted with social qualities,
and the only society suited to them is that of others of the same
calibre. If Shakspere were alive, and I acquainted with him, I
would not ask him to an evening party; or, if I did so, it should be
with huge Ben, and half dozen more from the u Mermaid," and they
should have strict injunctions not to engross the conversation. If
you must have a literary lion at your receptions, you should manage
to have two or three, for you may be sure that they will behave less
arrogantly in one another's presence ; or perhaps a better plan still,
is to invite a score of critics to meet him ; you will then find your
show beast as tractable and as quiet as his namesake in the caresses
of Van Amburgor Womb well. The man of science, again, has too
lofty a range of thought to descend to the ordinary topics of society ;

64: THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

and the bishop and distinguished general usually bear about with
them the marks of their profession, which, for perfect ease and
equality, should be concealed. Distinguished foreigners, if they
are clean, and can talk English well, may be very agreeable, but
your guests will often suspect them, and their names must be known
in England to make them desirable in any point of view.

Of rank and distinction, however, it may be said, in preference to
wealth and mere birth, that they are, when seconded by character,
absolute passports to good society. A title is presumed to be a cer-
tificate of education and good breeding, while a celebrity will often
be pardoned for the want of both, in virtue of the talents and perse-
verance by which he has raised himself. Of the two, the latter
excuses more our adulation. Rank is rarely gained by merit, and
when it is so, it is swamped by it. Macaulay and Brougham have
not gained a single step in the estimation of well-bred people by
being raised to the peerage, and no one would hesitate for a moment
between them and the untitled son of a Duke or Marquis. While,
too, we naturally fear the epithet of " toady," if we cultivate noble-
men only for the sake of their rank, we may well defend ourselves
for the admiration which genius, perseverance, and courage excite.
To women, again, distinction is less trying, since it takes them less
out of their ordinary sphere. They are still women, still capable of
enjoying society, with two exceptions, the blue-stocking and the
esprit fort, neither of which should ever be admitted into good
society.

But while genius is scarcely a recommendation in social meetings,
there are mental qualities nearly allied to it which are the best we
can bring to them ; I mean a thinking mind and a ready wit. The
most agreeable men and women are those who think out of society as
well as in it ; those who have mind without affectation, and talents
without conceit ; those who have formed and can form fresh opin-
ions on every subject, and to whom a mere word serves as the
springing-board from which to rise to new trains of thought.

RANK AND DISTINCTION. 65

Where people of this kind meet together, the commonest subjects
become matters of interest, and the conversation grows rapidly to
brilliance, even without positive wit. The man to whose mind
everything is a suggestion, and whose words suggest something *to
everybody, is the best man for a social meeting.

We have now seen what are and what are not the requisites for
good society. High moral character, a polished education, a perfect
command of temper, good breeding, delicate feeling, good manners,
good habits, and' a good bearing, are indispensable. Wit, accom-
plishments, and social talents are great advantages, though not
absolutely necessary. On the other hand, birth is lost sight of,
while wealth, rank, and distinction, so far from being desirable,
must be carefully handled, not to be positively objectionable. We
are now, therefore, enabled to offer a definition of good society. It
is, the meeting on a footing of equality, and for the purpose of mu-
tual entertainment, of men, of women, or men and women together,
of good character, good education, and good breeding.

But what is the real spirit of the observances which this society
requires of its frequenters for the preservation of harmony and the
easy intercourse of all of them ? Certainly, one may have a spotless
reputation, a good education, and good breeding, without being
either good in reality, or a Christian. But if we examine the laws
which good society lays down for our guidance and governance, we
shall find without a doubt, that they are those which a simple Chris-
tian, desiring to regulate the meetings of a number of people who
lacked the Christian feeling, would dictate. I am, of course, quite
aware that good society will never make you a Christian. You may
be charming in a party, ^and every one may pronounce you a perfect
and agreeable gentleman ; but you may go home and get privately
intoxicated, or beat your wife, or be cruel to your children. If
society finds you out, be sure it will punish you ; but society has
no right to search your house, and intrude upon your hearth, and,
as you say, it may be long before it finds you out. But, as far as
5

66 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

its jurisdiction extends, good society can compel you, if not to be
a Christian, at least to act like one. The difference between the
laws of G-ocL and the laws of men is, that the former address the
heart from which the acts proceed ; the latter, which can only judge
from what they see, determine the acts without regard to the heart.
The one waters the loot, the other the branches.

The laws of society are framed by the unanimous consent of
men, and, in all essential points, they differ very little all over the
world. The Turk may show his politeness by feeding you with his
fingers, the Englishman by carving your portion for you, but the same
spirit dictates both — the spirit of friendliness, of goodwill. Thus,
though the laws of society are necessarily imperfect, are .moulded by
traditional and local custom, and are addressed to the outer rather
than the inner man, their spirit is invariably the same. The con-
siderations which dictate them are reducible to the same law, and
this law proves to be the fundamental one of Christian doctrine.
Thus, what the heathen arrives at only by laws framed for the com-
fort of society, we possess at once in virtue of our religion. And it
is a great glory for a Christian to be able to say, that all refinement
and all civilization lead men — as far as their conversation is con-
cerned— to the practice of Christianity. It is a great satisfaction to
feel that Christianity is eminently the religion of civilization and
society.

The great law which distinguishes Christianity from every other
creed, that of brotherly love and self-denial, is essentially the law
which we find at the basis of all social observances. The first max-
im of politeness is to be agreeable to everybody, even 2k the expense
of one's own comfort. Meekness is the most beautiful virtue of the
Christian ; modesty the most commendable in a well-bred man.
Peace is the object of Christian laws ; harmony that of social obser-
vances. Self-denial is the exercise of the Christian ; f orgetfulness
of self that of the well-bred. Trust in one another unites Christian
communities ; confidence in the good intentions of our neighbors is

CHRISTIANITY AND SOCIETY. 67

tliat which makes society possible. To be kind to one another is
the object of Christian converse : to entertain one another, that of
social intercourse. Pride, selfishness, ill-temper, are alike opposed
to Christianity and good- breeding-. The one demands an upright
life ; the other requires the appearance of it. The one bids us make
the most of God's gifts and improve our talents ; the other will not
admit us till we have done so by education. And to go a step
farther : as a Christian community excludes sinners and unbelievers
from its gatherings, so a social community excludes from its meet-
ings those of bad character, and those who do not subscribe to its
iaws.

But society goes farther, and appears to impose on its members a
number of arbitrary rules, which continually restrict them in their
actions. It tells them how they must eat and drink and dress, and
walk and talk, and so on. We ought to be very thankful to society
for taking so much trouble, and saving us so much doubt and con-
fusion. But if the ordinances of society are examined, it will be
found that while many of them are merely derived from custom and
tradition, and some have no positive value, they all tend to one end,
the preservation of harmony, and the prevention of one person from
usurping the rights, or intruding on the province of another. If it
regulates your dress, it is that there may be an appearance of equal-
ity in all, and that the rich may not be able to flaunt their wealth in
the eyes of their poorer Associates. If, for instance, it says that you
are not to wear diamonds in the morning, it puts a check upon your
vanity. If it says you may wear them on certain occasions, it does
not compel those who have none to purchase them. If society says
you shall eat with a knife and fork, it is not because fingers were
not made before forks, but because it is well known that if you
were to use the natural fork of five prongs instead of the plated one
of four, you would want to wash your hands after every dish. If she
goes farther and says you shall not put your knife into your mouth,
it is because she supposes that you, like ninety-nine, out of every

68 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

hundred of civilized beings, can taste the steel when you do so, and
is surprised at your bad taste, and since she demands good taste she
cannot think you fit for her court. Of course, she cannot stop to
hear you explain that you find a particular enjoyment in the taste
of steel, and that therefore on your part it is good, not bad taste.
She is by necessity forced to judge from appearance. If again she
forbids you to swing your arms in walking, like the sails of a wind-
mill, it is not because she finds any pleasure in pinioning you, but
because beauty is a result of harmony, which is her first law, and
she studies beauty, adopts the beautiful, and rejects the inelegant.
That motion of the arms is not lovely, confess it. Society is quite
right to object to it. Once more, if she dubs you vulgar for speaking
in a loud harsh voice, it is because, whatever be your case, other
people have nerves which may be touched and heads which can
ache, and your stentorian tones set the one vibrating and the other
throbbing. In short, while she may have many an old law that
needs repealing, you will find that the greater number of her enact-
ments are founded on very good and very Christian considerations.
You will find that the more religious a man is, the more polite he
will spontaneously become, and that too in every rank of life, for
true religion teaches him to forget himself , to love his neighbor,
and to be kindly even to his enemy, and the appearance of so being
and doing, is what society demands as good manners. How can it
ask more ? How can it rip open your heart and see if with your
bland smile and oily voice you are a liar and a hypocrite ? There is
One who has this power — forget it not ! — but society must be con-
tent with the semblance . By your works men do and must judge you.
Before I quit the demands of society, I must say a few words on
the distinction she makes between people of different ages and dif-
ferent domestic positions; to wit, how she has one law for the
bachelor, another for the Benedict ; one for the maid, another for
the matron ; one law, I mean, to regulate their privileges and to
restrict their vagaries.

PATERFAMILIAS. 69

Let us begin with that awful, stately, and majestic being, Pater-
familias Anglicanus ; the same who, having reached the age of per-
petual snow, exacts our reverence and receives our awe ; the same
who, finding his majesty lost on the vagabond Italian with the monkey
and organ, resolves to crush him in a column of The Times ; the same
before whom not Mamma herself dares open that same newspaper ;
the same who warns her against encouraging the French count, for
whom Mary Anne has taken such a liking — who pooh-poohs the idea
of a watering-place in summer, who frowns over the weekly bills, and
talks of bankruptcy and ruin over the milliner's little account, who
is Mamma's excuse with the sons, the daughters, and the servants —
''Your papa wishes it," she says, and there is not a word more — who
with a mistaken dignity raises up an impassable barrier between him-
self and his children, .chilling back their tenderest advances, receiv-
ing their evening kiss as a cold formahty, and who, ah, human
heart ! when one of them is laid low, steals to the chamber of death
privily and ashamed of his grief, turns down the ghastly sheet, and
burying his head there, pours out the only tears he has shed for so
many a year. Poor father ! bitter, bitter is the self-reproach over
that cold form now. What avails now the stern veto that bade her
reject the handsome lover who had so poor a fortune, and broke — ay,
broke her heart that beats no more ? Of what use was that cold
severity which drove him to sea, who lies there now past all recall?.
Ah! stern, hard, cold father; so they thought you, so you seemed,
and yet you meant it for the best, and you say you loved your chil-
dren too well. Well, well, it is not all fathers who are like this.
There is another species of the genus Paterf amiHas Anglicanus, who
is jovial, and merry, and blithe by his fireside, whose children nestle
round his knees, and who has a kiss and a word, and a kind, soft
smile for each.

But what is the position of Paterfamilias in society ? Where is his
place ? Certainly not in the ball-room. If he comes there, he must
throw aside his dignity, and delight in the pleasure of the young.

70 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

He must, "be young himself. In his own house he must receive all
comers merrily — the balfolatre is to be a scene of mirth ; he must
not damp your gayety with his solemn gravity. He is as little missed
from his wife's ball-room as a mute from a wedding procession ; and
yet he must be there to talk to chaperons, to amuse the elderly
beaux, and, if necessary, to spread the card-table and form the rub-
ber. At all events, he never dances unless to make up a set in a
quadrille. He is still less at home in the pic-nic, the matinee, and
the fete, but he is great at the evening party, and all-important at
the dinner. But even here, there is a dignity proper to Paterfami-
lias, which, while it should avoid stateliness, should scarcely descend
to hilarity. He must not be a loud laugher or an inveterate talker.
He is seen in his most trying light in his conduct to the young.
While we excuse his antique fashion, which rather becomes him,
and would laugh to see him in the latest mode of the day, while we
are pleased with his old-fashioned courtesy, and would not have him
talk slang or lounge on the sofa, we expect from him some consider-
ation for the changes that have taken place since he courted his
worthy spouse. Paterfamilias is too apt to insist that the manners
and fashions of his spring were better than those of his winter are.
He should be smiling to young women, and even a little gallant, and
he should rejoice in their youthful mirth. But too often he is
tempted to set down his younger brethren ; too often he is a damper,
and wished away. The dignity of Paterfamilias should never .inter-
fere with the ease, though it may well check the impudence of
youth.

The Matron is tender to her own. How much I wish she was as
tender to the pride of others. But one hen will always kill another' s
chickens if she has the opportunity, and Mrs. Jones will always pick
to pieces Mrs. Brown's daughters. The Matron has many more
Bocial duties than Paterfamilias. It is she who arranges everything ;
who selects the guests ; who, with her daughter's pen invites them ;
who receives their visits ; who looks after their comforts ; who, by

THE MATRON. 71

her active attentions, keeps up the circulation in evening parties ;
who orders dinner, and distributes the guests at it ; who introduces
partners at balls with her daughters' assistance ; who engages the
chaperons ; who herself must go, willing or not, to look after her
Ada and her Edith at the ball, and sit unmurmuring to the end of
the dance. But she is well repaid by their pleasure, and when Ada
talks of the Captain's attention, and Edith tells her what the curate
whispered, she is perfectly happy. The matron without children is
a woman out of her sphere, and until her children are grown up, she
is a young married woman, and not a matron. It is only when Ada
" comes out," that her office commences. She must then in society
be an appendage to her daughter, and forget herself. But in the
evening party and the dinner-party she takes a higher place, and in
fact the highest, and whether as guest or host, it is to her that the
most respect is shown ; she has a right to it, and it is her duty to keep
it up. Still the matron appears more in her relation to her children
than any other position, and in this her place in society is one that
demands care. Great as her pride may be in her family, she has no
right to be continually asserting their superiority to all other young
people. This is particularly remarkable in her treatment of her
grown-up sons; and a mother should remember that when fully
fledged, the young birds can take care of themselves. She has no
right to tie them to her apron-strings, and her fondness becomes
foolish when she fears that poor Charles will catch cold at eight-
and-twenty, or shrieks after James, because he will stroll away to
his club. But when she assumes the dress and airs of youth, she
becomes ridiculous. When once she has daughters presentable, she
must forget to shine herself ; she should never, even if a widow,
risk being her daughter's rival, and her conduct to young men must
be that of a mother, rather than of a friend.

It is very different m France, where the married woman is par
excellence the woman of society, no matter what her age. But in
England, the bearing of the married woman with grown-up children

72 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

must be the calm dignity and affability of the matron. The French
have a proverb, " Faire la cour a la mere pour avoir la file; " and I
should strongly recommend the young man who wishes to succeed
with a damsel to show particular attentions to her mamma. A
mother indeed does not expect you to leave her daughter's side in
order to talk to her ; but be sure that such an act gains you much
more good will than all the pretty speeches you could have made in
that time to the daughter. And it is only kind too. As I have
said, the mother's and chaperon's position is secondary when the
daughter or protegee is present, at least in England ; but a good-
natured man will take care that she does not feel it to be so. A good
girl is always pleased to see proper respect and attention shown to
her mother ; and when at breakfast the next morning, Mamma
says, " My dear, I like Mr. Jones very much ; he is a well-bred and
agreeable young man ; I recommend you to cultivate him." And
when Arabella exclaims, " Oh, mamma, the idea ! Mr. Jones, in-
deed ! " you may be sure the maternal praise is not lost upon her,
and the idea is precisely one that she will allow to return to her
mind. One of the most fattening dishes on which Master Cupid feeds
is that same praise bestowed by others. But whether you have an
eye to Arabella or not, the chaperon ought not to be neglected.

Now, what part young Benedict shall take in society depends on
his young wife. If she be wise, she will not fret when he dances
with pretty girls, and if he be kind he will not let the dance lead
him into a flirtation. But Benedict may go everywhere, and need
not sigh over the days of his celibacy. Only he must remember,
that while he has gained some privileges, he has lost others. In
the meetings of the young, for instance, he is less wanted than
Ccelebs, while, since he cannot be invited without his wife, he can no
longer expect to fill the odd seat at dinner. On the other hand, he
takes precedence of the bachelor, and is naturally a man of more
weight, so that when he has passed his head under the yoke, he
must be calmer, more sober, less frivolous, though not less lively

THE YOUNG MARRIED MAN. 73

than he was in the old c l chambers " days. A great deal is forgiven
to Ccelebs on account of his position. If he talks nonsense occa-
sionally, it is his high spirits ; if he dances incessantly the whole
evening, it is that he may please " those dear girls ;" if he dresses
au point de vice now and then, he is Claudio in love, lying* sleepless
for the nigfct, " carving out a new doublet;" if he hurries to the
drawing-room after dinner, or is marked in his attention to ladies, he
is only on his promotion ; and if he has a few fast, lounging habits,
"it is all very well for the boys," says Paterfamilias, and in short,
1 ' a young fellow like that " may do a thousand things that Benedict
the married man must abstain from. Greater than any change,
however, is that of his relations to his own sex. Some married men
throw all their bachelor friends overboard, when they take that fair
cargo for which they have been sighing so long ; but I would not be
one of such a man's friends. At the same time, I must expect to
see less of Benedict than before. " Adieu the petit sonper" he mur-
murs, " the flying corks, the chorused song, the trips to Bichmond
and Greenwich, the high dog-cart, and the seat on the box of my
friend's drag! Adieu the fragrant weed, the cracking hunting-
whip, the merry bachelor-dinner, and the late hours ! Shall I sigh
over them ? No, indeed ! Mrs. Jones is not only an ample compen-
sation for such gayeties, but I am thankful to her for keeping me
from them. Why, that little baby-face of hers, that pouts so pret-
tily for a kiss when I come home, is worth a hundred dozens of
champagne, a thousand boxes of Hudson's best, and a score of the
longest runs after Reynard we ever had. " Ye«s, Benedict I envy thee,
and if Beatrice be wise, she will not draw the reins too tight all at
once ; and whatever she may say to hunting, she will see no harm in
a mild Havana and a couple of bachelor friends to dinner now and
then. But Benedict has not only changed his manner and his
habits ; he has got new duties, and where his wife goes he may go,
and ought to go. He can no longer claim exemption from solemn
dinners, from weary muffin- worries, and witless tea-parties. On the

74 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

other hand, he will never be made use of, and his wif e will furnish a
ready excuse for refusing invitations which he had better not ac-
cept. Lastly, the young married man should never assume the
gravity of paterfamilias ; and, though he is promoted above Coelebs,
he will take care not to snub him.

What a happy man is C celebs ! The more I sit in my club- window
the more I feel convinced of this. It is true that I have never been
married, and therefore know nothing of the alternative, but will
make you a little confession, priestly reader — I have been once or
twice 'very near it. Free from incumbrance, Coelebs is as irrespon-
sible as a butterfly ; he can choose his own society, go anywhere, do
anything, be early or late, gay or retired, mingle with men or with
ladies, smoke or not, wear a beard or cut it off, and, if he likes, part
his hair down the middle. What a happy man is Coelebs ! free and
independent as he is, he is as much courted as a voter at an elec-
tion ; he is forever being bribed by mammas and feasted by papas ;
nothing is complete without him; he is the wit at the dinner, the
" life " of the tea-fight, an absolute necessity in the ball-room, a sine
qua non at fete and pic-nic, and welcome everywhere. Indeed, I
don't know what society can do without him. The men want him
for their parties, the ladies, I suppose I must not say, still more for
theirs. The old like him because he is young, the young like him
because he is not old ; and in short he is as much a necessity as the
refreshments, and must be procured somehow or other. Then, too,
if he does not care for these things he can come and sit here in the
club-window ; or he can travel, which Benedict seldom can ; or he
can take an occupation or an art, while the married man has no
choice, and must work, if he work at all, to keep quiet the mouths
of those blessed cherubim in the perambulator.

But that which makes Coelebs a happy man is, that he can enjoy
society so much. If it be the bachelor party, he is not there against
his conscience with fear of a Caudle lecture to spoil his digestion.
If it is among ladies, he has the spice of galanterle to curry his con-

THE YOUNG LADY. 75

versation with, and as for dancing", lie at least enjoys it as an intro-
duction to flirtation. But perhaps his greatest privilege is the
power of falling in love, for as long as that power lasts — which,
heigh-ho ! is not for ever — there is no innocent pleasure which is
greater. But Coelebs has not always the privilege of falling out of
love again, and if the married man has a wife to look after his do-
ings, the bachelor is watched by chaperons, and suspected by papas.
Poor Coelebs, do not leave the matter too late ; do not say, " Hang
me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me," if ever I lose my heart.
Believe me, boy, the passion must be enjoyed when young. When
you come to my age, Cupid won't waste an arrow on you, and if he
did so, it would only make you ridiculous. Yes, the young bachelor
is a happy man, but the old bachelor — let me stop, if I once begin
on that theme, I shall waste three quires of paper, and tire you out.
But if much is allowed to Coelebs, much is expected of him. He
has not the substance of Benedict to back him up, not the respecta-
bility of wedded life, not the charms of his young wife to make
amends for his deficiencies. The young bachelor is more than any
man a subject for the laws of etiquette. Less than any will he be
pardoned for neglecting them. He has no excuse to offer for their
non-observance. He must make himself useful and agreeable, must
have accomplishments for the former, and talents for the latter, and
is expected to show attention and respect to both sexes and all ages.
Happier still is the young lady, for whom so many allowances are
made, and who, in society, is supposed to do nothing wrong. To
her the ball is a real delight, and the evening party much more
amusing than to any one else. On the other hand she must not fre-
quent dinner-parties too much, particularly if she is very young, and
in all cases she must consider modesty the prettiest ornament she
can wear. She has many privileges, but must beware how she takes
advantage of them. To the old her manner must always be respect-
ful and even affectionate. If she lacks beauty, she will not succeed
without conversational powers ; and if she has beauty, she will soon

76 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

find out that wit is a powerful rival. With the two she may do
what she will; all men are her slaves. She must, however, have vf
"smile as well, for every person and every occasion. Dignity she sel-
dom needs, except to repel familiarity. Without a good heart her
mind and her face will only draw envy and even dislike upon her.
In England, the young lady is queen ; in France, the young married
woman takes her place ; and though society can do without her,
there is, in my opinion, no more charming companion than a young
married woman. She has left off nonsense, and forgotten flirta-
tion, and she has gained from the companionship of her husband a
certain strength of mind, which, tempered by her modest dignity, en-
ables her to broach almost any subject with a man. She is at home
everywhere, may dance in the ball-room, and talk at the dinner-
table, and the respect due to her position enables her to be more free
in her intercourse without fear of remark. In slhort, if a man
wishes for sensible conversation, with gentleness and beauty to lend
it a charm, he must look for it in young married women.

Of the elderly unmarried lady— for of course there is no such
thing as an " old maid " — I decline, from a feeling of delicacy, to
say anything.

I shall conclude this piece de resistance with a few parting re-
marks on the art of making one's self agreeable. I take it that the
first thing necessary is to be in good spirits, or at least in the humor
for society. If you have any grief or care to oppress you, and have
not the strength of will to throw it off, you do yourself an injustice
by entering the society of those who meet for mutual entertainment.
Nay, you do them too a wrong, for you risk becoming what is com-
monly known asa" damper." The next point is to remember that
the mutual entertainment in society is obtained by conversation.
For this you require temper, of which I have already spoken ; con-
fidence, of which I shall speak elsewhere ; and appropriateness,
which has been treated under the head of " Conversation." I have
already said, that that man is the most agreeable to talk to, who

THE ART OF MAKING ONE'S SELF AGREEABLE. 77

thinks out of society as well as in it. It will be necessary to throw
off all the marks and feelings of your profession and occupation, and
surround yourself, so to speak, with a purely social atmosphere.
You must remember that society requires equality, real or apparent,
and that all professional or official peculiarities militate against this
appearance of equality. You must, in the same way, divest your-
self of all feeling of superiority or inferiority in rank, birth, posi-
tion, means, or even acquirements. You must enter the social
ranks as a private. If you earn your laurels by being agreeable,
you will, in time, get your commission. Having made this mental
preparation, having confidence without pride, modesty without shy-
ness, ease without insolence, and dignity without stiffness, you may
enter the drawing-room, and see in what way you may best make
yourself agreeable.

The spirit with which you must do so is one of general kindliness
and self-sacrifice. You will not, therefore, select the person who
has the most attractions for you, so much as any one whom you
see neglected, or who, being not quite at his or her ease, requires to
be talked into confidence. On the same principle, you will respect
prejudices ; you will take care to ascertain them, before coming, on
subjects on which people feel strongly. Then you will not open a
conversation with a young lady by abusing High or Low Church,
nor with an elderly gentleman by an attack on Whig or Tory. You
will not rail against babies to a married woman, nor sneer at modern
literature to a man with a beard, for if he is not a Crimean officer
he is sure to be an author.

In like spirit you will discover and even anticipate the wants of
others, particularly if you are a man. On first acquaintance you
will treat every one with particular respect and delicacy, not rush-
ing at once into a familiar joke, or roaring like a clown. Your
manner will be calm — because if you have no nerves, other people
have them — and your voice gentle and low. Oh ! commend me to
an agreeable voice, especially in a woman. It is worth any amount

78 THE SPIRIT OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

of beauty. The tone, too, of your conversation and style of your
manner will vary with the occasion. While it will be sensible and
almost grave at table, it will be merry and light at a pic-nic.

Your attention, again, must not be exclusive. However little
you may enjoy their society, you will be as attentive to the old as to
the young ; to the humble as to the grand, to the poor curate, for
instance, as to the M. P. ; to the elderly chaperon as to her fair
young charge. In this manner you not only evince your good-breed-
ing, but often do a real kindness in amusing those who might other-
wise be very dull. On some occasions, particularly when a party is
heavy and wants life, you will generalize the conversation, introduc-
ing a subject in which all can take an interest, and turning to them all
in general. On the other hand, when, as in a small party, the con-
versation is by necessity general, you will particularly avoid talking
to one person exclusively, or mentioning people, places, or things,
with which only one or two of them can be acquainted. For
instance, if at a morning call there happen to be two or three stran-
gers at the same time, it is bad taste to talk about Mr. this or Mr.
that. It is far better to have recourse to the newspapers, which
everybody is supposed to have read, or to public affairs, in which
everybody can take more or less interest.

But it is not in your words only that you may offend against good
taste. Your manners, your personal habits, your very look, even, may
give offence. These, therefore, must not only be studied, but if you
have the misfortune to be with people who are not accustomed to
refined manners, and to find that insisting on a particular refinement
would give offence, or cast an imputation on the rest, it is always
better to waive a refinement than to hurt feelings, and it sometimes
becomes more ill-bred to insist on one than to do without it. For
instance, if your host and his guest dine without dinner napkins, it
would be very bad taste to call for one ; or if, as in Germany, there
be no spoons for the salt, you must be content to use your knife or
fork as the rest do. " To do in Rome as the Romans do," applies

MANNERS. 79

to every kind of society. At the same time, you can never be ex-
pected to commit a serious breach of manners because your neighbors
do so. Tou can never be called on in America to spit about the
room, simply because it is a national habit.

But what you should do, and what not, in particular cases, you
will learn in the following chapters. I have only now to say, that
if you wish to be agreeable, which is certainly a good and religious
desire, you must both study how to be so, and take the trouble to
put your studies into constant practice. The fruit you will soon
reap. You will be generally liked and loved. The gratitude of
those to whom you have devoted yourself will be shown in speak-
ing well of you; you will become a desirable addition to every
party; and whatever your birth, fortune, or position, people will say
of you, " He is a most agreeable and well-bred man," and be glad
to introduce you to good society. But you will reap a yet better
reward. You will have in yourself the satisfaction of having taken
trouble and made sacrifices in order to give pleasure and happiness
for the time to others. How do you know what grief or care you
may not obliterate, what humiliation you may not alter to confi-
dence, what anxiety you may not soften, what — last, but really not
least — what intense dulness you may not enliven ? If this work
assist you in becoming an agreeable member of good society, I shall
rejoice at the labor it has given me.

80 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

PAET I.— THE INDIVIDUAL.

CHAPTER I.

INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

There are several passages in Holy Writ which have been shame-
fully, I may almost say, ludicrously misapplied. Thus when we
want a scriptural authority for making as much money as possible
in an honest way, we quote St. Paul, " Not slothful in business,"
forgetting that the word u business " had once a far wider meaning,
and that the Greek, for which it is placed, means really "zeal,"
that is, in God's work. But the most impudent appropriation is
that of cleanliness being next to godliness, and the apostle is made
to affirm that if you cannot be religious, you should at least wear a
clean shirt. Of course, a reference to the Greek would show in a
moment that purity of mind and heart are meant, and that ' ' cleanli-
ness" was once the proper English for " purity."

Though we have no right to claim scriptural authority for soap
and water, we cannot agree with Thomas of Ely, who tells us that
Queen Ethelreda was so clean of heart as to need no washing of the
body ; nor can we believe that the loftiness of Lady Mary Wortley
Montague's sentiments at all leplaced the brush and comb, towel
and basin, to which the liveliest woman of her day had such a strange
aversion. It was she who, when some one said to her at the opera,
' ' How dirty your hands are, my lady ! " she replied with naive in-
difference, " What would you say if you saw my feet ? "

Genius, love, and fanaticism seem partial to dirt. Every one
knows what a German philosopher looks like, and Werther showed
his misery by wearing the same coat and appendices for a whole
year. As to the saints, they were proud of their unchanged flannel,

CLEANLINESS. 81

and the monk was never made late for matins by the intricacy of his
toilet. St. Simeon of the Pillar is an instance of the common
opinion of his day, that far from cleanliness being next to godliness,
the nearest road to heaven is a remarkably dirty one. Perhaps,
however, he trusted to the rain to cleanse him, and he was certainly
a user of the shower-bath, which cannot be said of many a fine gen-
tleman. Religion, however, is not always accompanied with neglect
of the person. The Brahmin bathes twice a day, and rinses his
mouth seven times the first thing in the morning. It is strange that
Manu, while enumerating the pollutions of this world, should have
made the exception of a woman's mouth, which he tells us is always
clean. Probably the worthy old Hindu was partial to osculation,
but it is certain that there can be no Billingsgate in India.

In the beginning of the present century, it was thought proper for
a gentleman to change his under garment three times a day, and the
washing bill of a beau comprised seventy shirts, thirty cravats, and
pocket-handkerchiefs d discretion. What would Brummell say to a
college chum of mine who made a tour through Wales with but one
flannel shirt in his knapsack ? The former's maxim was " linen of
the finest quality, plenty of it, and country washing." Fine linen
has always been held in esteem, but it did not save Dives.

Cleanliness is a duty to one's self for the sake of health, and to
one's neighbor for the sake of agreeableness. Dirtiness is decidedly
unpleasant to more than one of the senses, and a man who thus
offends his neighbor is not free from guilt, though he may go un-
punished. But if these reasons were not sufficient, there is another
far stronger than both. St. Simeon Stylites may have preserved a
pure mind in spite of an absence of ablutions, but we must not lose
sight of the influence which the body has over the soul, an influence,
alas, for man ! sometimes far too great. We are convinced that bad
personal habits have their effect on the character, and that a man
who neglects his body, which he loves by instinct, will neglect far
more his soul, which he loves only by command.
6

82 INSHXE THE DRESSING-EOOM.

There is no excuse for BrummelTs taking more than two hours to
dress. It was in his case mere vanity, and he was — and was content
to be — one of the veriest showthings in the world, as useless as the
table ornaments on which he wasted the money he was not ashamed
to take from his friends. On the other hand, when a young lady
assures me that she can dress in ten minutes, I feel confident that
the most important part of the toilet must be neglected. The morn-
ing toilet means more than a mere putting on of clothes, whatever
policemen and French concierges may think.

. The first thing to be attended to after rising is the BATH. The
vessel which is dignified, like a certain part of lady's dress, with a
royal Order, is one on which folios might be written. It has given
a name to two towns — Bath and Baden — renowned for their toilets,-
and it is all that is left in three continents of Eoman glory. It is
a club-room in Germany and the East, and was an arena in Greece
and Rome. It was in a bath that the greatest destroyer of life had
his own destroyed, when he had bathed all France in blood. But
'Clarence, I am convinced, has been much maligned. He has been
called a drunkard, and people shudder at his choosing that death in
which he could not but die in sin ; but for my part, so far as the
Malmsey is concerned, I am inclined to think that he only showed
himself a gentleman to the last. He was determined to die clean,
and he knew, like the Parisian ladies — which we should perhaps
spell la/ides — who sacrifice a dozen of champagne to their morning
ablutions, that wine has a peculiarly softening effect upon the skin.
Besides Champagne, the exquisites of Paris use milk, which is sup-
posed to lend whiteness to the skin. The expense of this luxury is
considerably diminished by an arrangment with the milkman, who
repurchases the liquid after use. I need scarcely add, that in Paris
I learned to abjure cafe au lait, and to drink my tea simple.

The bath deserves an Order, and its celebrity. It is of all institu-
tions the most unexceptionable. Man is an amphibious animal, and
ought to pass some small portion of each day in the water. In fact,

THE BATH. 83

a large, if not the larger proportion of diseases arises from leaving the
pores of the skin closed, whether with natural exudation or matter
from without, alias dirt. It is quite a mistake to suppose, and the
idea must at once be done away with, that one is to wash because
one is dirty. We wash because we wear clothes ; in other words,
because we are obliged to remove artificially what would otherwise
escape by evaporation. We wash again, because we are never in a
state of perfect health, although with care we might be so. Were
our bodies in perfect order — as the Swedenborgians inform us that
those of the angels are — we should never need washing, and the
bath would chill rather than refresh us, so that, perhaps, man is by
necessity and degradation — not by destination — an amphibious crea-
ture.

However this may be, we must not suppose, because a limb looks
clean, that it does not need washing, and however white the skin
may appear, we should use the bath once a day at least, and in sum-
mer, if convenient, twice.

The question now arises, What kind of a bath is best ? and it
must be answered by referring to the person's constitution. If this
is weak and poor, the bath should be strengthening ; but at the
same time it must be remembered, that while simple water cleanses,
thicker fluids are apt rather to encumber the skin, so that a tonic
bath is not always a good one. This is the case with the champagne,
miik, mud, snake, and other baths, the value of which entirely de-
pends on the peculiar state of health of the patient, so that one per-
son is cured and another killed by them. The same is to be said of
sea-bathing, and the common bath even must be used with reference
to one's condition.

The most cleansing bath is a warm one from 96° to 100°, into
which the whole body is immersed. If cleansing alone be the aim,
the hotter the water the better, up to 108°. It expands the pores,
dives well into them,, and increases the circulation for the time being.
But since it is an unnatural agent, it exhausts the physical powers,

84 INSIDE THE DKESSING-ROOM.

and leaves us prostrate. For health, therefore, it should be spar-
ingly indulged in, except in persons of rapid and heated circulation.
Even with such, it should be used with discretion, and the time of
remaining in the bath should never exceed a few minutes.

The cold bath of from 60° to 70°, on the other hand, cleanses less,
but invigorates more. It should therefore be avoided by persons of
full temperament, and becomes really dangerous after eating, or
even after a long rest following a heavy meal. If you have supped
largely over night, or been foolish, perhaps I may say wrong enough,
to drink more than your usual quantity of stimulating liquors, you
should content yourself with passing a wet sponge over the body.

A tepid bath, varying from 85° to 95°, is perhaps the safest of all,
but we must not lose sight of health in the desire for comfort. The
most healthy, and one of the handsomest men I ever saw, and one
who at sixty had not a single grey hair, was a German, whose diet
being moderate, used to bathe in running water at all seasons, break-
ing the ice in winter for his plunge. Of the shower bath, I will say
nothing, because I feel that to recommend it for general use is
dangerous, while for such a work as this, which does not take health
as its main subject, it would be out of place to go into the special
cases.

The best bath for general purposes, and one which can do little
harm, and almost always some good, is a sponge bath. It should
consist of a large flat metal basin, some four feet in diameter, filled
with cold water. Such a vessel may be bought for about fifteen
shillings. A large coarse sponge — the coarser the better — will cost
another five or seven shillings, and a few Turkish towels, complete
the ; c properties. " The water should be plentiful and fresh, that is,
brought up a little while before the bath is to be used ; not placed
over night in the bed-room. Let us wash and be merry, for we
know not how soon the supply of that precious article which here
costs nothing may be cut off. In many continental towns they buy
their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration is often re-

■ THE BATH. 85

duced to half a pint a day for all purposes, so that a pint per diem is
considered luxurious. Sea-water, we may here observe, does not
cleanse, and a sensible man who bathes in the sea will take a bath
of pure water immediately after it. This practice is shamefully
neglected, and I am inclined to think, that in many cases a sea-bath
will do more harm than good without it, but if followed by a fresh
bath, cannot but be advantageous^

Taking the sponge bath as the best for ordinary purposes, we
must point out some rules in its use. The sponge being nearly a
foot in length, and six inches broad, must be allowed to fill com-
pletely with water, and the part of the body which should be first
attacked is the stomach. It is there that the most heat has col-
lected during the night, and the application of cold water quickens
the circulation at once, and sends the blood which has been employed
in digestion round the whole body. The head should next be soused,
unless the person be of full habit, when the head should be attacked
before the feet touch the cold water at all. Some persons use a
small hand shower bath, which is less powerful than the common
shower bath, and does almost as much good. The use of soap in
the morning bath is an open question. I confess a £)reference for a
rough towel or a hair glove. Brummell patronized the latter, and
applied it for nearly a quarter of an hour every morning.

The ancients followed up the bath by anointing the body, and
athletic exercises. The former is a mistake ; the latter an excellent-
practice shamefully neglected in the present day. It would conduce
much to health and strength if every morning toilet comprised the
vigorous use of the dumb-bells, or, still better, the exercise of the
arms without them. The best plan of all is, to choose some object
in your bedroom on which to vent your hatred, and box at it vio-
lently for some ten minutes, till the perspiration covers you. The
sponge must then be again applied to the whole body. It is very de-
sirable to remain without clothing as long as possible, and I should
therefore recommend that every part of the toilet which can con-
veniently be performed without dressing, should be so.

86 INSIDE THE DKESSING-EOOM.

The next duty, then, must be to clean the Teeth. Dentists are
modern inquisitors, but their torture -rooms are meant only, for the
foolish. Everybody is born with good teeth, and everybody might
keep them good by a proper diet, and the avoidance of sweets and
smoking. Of the two the former are perhaps the more dangerous.
Nothing ruins the teeth so soon as sugar in one's tea, and highly
sweetened tarts and puddings, and as it is le premier pas qui coute,
these should be particularly avoided in childhood. When the teeth
attain their full growth and strength it takes much more to destroy
either their enamel or their substance.

It is upon the teeth that the effects of excess are first seen, and it
is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath depends. What is
more repulsive than a woman's smile discovering a row of black
teeth, unless it be the rank smell of the breath ? Both involve an
offence of your neighbor's most delicate senses, and neither can
therefore be pardoned. If I may not say that it is a Christian duty
to keep your teeth clean, I may at least remind you that you cannot
be thoroughly agreeable without doing so. Ladies particularly
must remember that men love with their eyes, and perhaps I may
add with their noses, and that these details do not escape them. In
fact, there are few details in women that do escape their admirers,
and if Brummell broke off his engagement because the young lady
ate cabbages, there are numbers of men in the present day who
would be disgusted by the absence of refinement in such small mat-
ters as the teeth. Let words be what they may, if they come with
an impure odor, they cannot please. The butterfly loves the scent
of the rose more than its honey.

The beau just mentioned used a red root, which is of oriental
origin. It is not so penetrating as a good hard tooth-brush, with a
lather of saponaceous tooth-powder upon it. The Hindus, who
have particularly white teeth, use sticks of different woods accord-
ing to their caste ; put perhaps a preparation of soap is the best
thing that can be employed. The teeth should be well rubbed in-

THE NAILS. 87

side as well as outside, and the back teeth, even more than the front.
The mouth should then be rinsed, if not seven times, according to
the Hindu legislator, at least several times, with fresh cold water.
This same process should be repeated several times a day, since
eating, smoking, and so forth, naturally render the teeth and mouth
dirty more or less, and nothing can be so offensive, particularly to
ladies, whose sense of smell seems to be keener than that of the
other sex, and who can detect at your first approach whether you
have been drinking or smoking. But if only for your own comfort
you should brush your teeth both morning and evening, which is
quite requisite for the preservation of their soundness and color;
while if you are to mingle with others, they should be brushed, or at
least the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after smok-
ing, or drinking wine, beer, or spirits. No amount of general at-
tractiveness can compensate for an offensive odor in the breath;
and none of the senses is so fine a gentleman, none so unforgiving if
offended, as that of smell. The following reproof was well-merited,
if not polite. * ' I have had the wind in my teeth all the way," said
an Irishman, after a brisk walk on a breezy morning, before which
he had been indulging his propensity to onions. "Well, sir," re-
plied his friend, who at once perceived how he had breakfasted, ' i I
must say that the wind had the worst of it. "

The custom of allowing the nails to grow as a proof of freedom
from the necessity of working, which is most absurdly identified
with gentility, is not peculiar to China. In some parts of Italy the
nails of the left hand are never cut till they begin to break, and a
Lombard of my acquaintance once presented me a huge nail which
he had just cut, and which I must do him the justice to say was per-
fectly white. I admired it, and threw it away. " What ! " cried he
indignantly, "is that the way you receive the greatest proof of
friendship which a man can give you ?" and he then explained to
me that in his native province the nail held the same place as a lock
of hair with us. I really doubt which has the preference, and

88 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

whether a Lothario's desk filled with little oily packets of different-
colored hair is at all more romantic than a box of beloved finger
nails. Certainly there is beauty in a long silken tress, the golden
tinge reminding us of the fair head of some lost child so like its
mother's, or in the rich dark curl that, in the boldest hour of love,
we raped from her head, who was then so confidently ours, and now
— What is she now ? But even this fancy can take a very disagree-
able form, and what can we say of an ardent hopeless lover whom I
once knew, and who I was assured gave a guinea to a lady's maid
for the stray hairs left in her mistress' comb !

But though we may not be cultivating our nails either to tear a
rival's face with, or to confer with a majestic condescension on some
importunate admirer, we are not absolved from paying strict atten-
tion to their condition, and that both as regards cleaning and cutting.
The former is best done with a liberal supply of soap on a small nail-
brush, which should be used before every meal, if you would not
injure your neighbor's appetite. While the hand is still moist, the
point of a small pen-knife or pair of stumpy nail-scissors should be
passed under the nails so as to remove every vestige of dirt ; the
skin should be pushed down with a towel, that the white half-moon
may be seen, and the finer skin removed with the knife or scissors.
Occasionally the edges of the nail should be filed, and the hard skin
which forms round the corners of them cut away. The important
point in cutting the nails is* to preserve the beauty of their shape.
That beauty even in details is worth preserving, I have already re-
marked, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, as in the
grace of our attitudes, or any other point. The shape, then, of the
nail should approach as nearly as possible to the oblong. The orien-
tal ladies know this, and allow the nail to grow to an enormous
length, and bend down towards the finger. But then they cultivate
beauty in every detail, for, poor things, they have none but personal
attractions to depend on ; and they give to the pink nail a peculiar
lustre by the little speck of purple henna, just as Parisian beauties

CHILBLAINS. ' 89

pass a line of blue paint under the lower eyelash; perhaps, too,
they keep their fingers thus well armed to protect themselves from
angry pashas, or even — but let us hope not — to spoil the beauty of
some more favored houri. However this may be, the length of the
nail is an open question. Let it be often cut, but always long, in
my opinion. Above all, let it be well cut, and never bitten. Had
Brummell broken off his engagement because the young lady bit her
nails, I think I could not have blamed him.

Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details, yes, but
not childish. The attention 'to details is the true sign of a great
mind, and he who can in necessity consider the smallest, is the same
man who can compass the largest subjects. Is not life made up of
details ? Must not the artist who has conceived a picture, descend
from the dream of his mind to mix colors on a palette ? Must not
the great commander who is bowling down nations and setting up
monarchies care for the health and comfort, the bread and beef of
each individual soldier ? I have often seen a great poet, whom I
knew personally, counting on his fingers the feet of his verses, and
fretting with anything but poetic language because he could not
get his sense into as many syllables. What if his nails were dirty ?
Let genius talk of abstract beauty, and philosophers dogmatize on
order. If they do not keep their nails clean, I shall call them both
charlatans. The man who really loves beauty, will cultivate it in
everything around him. The man who upholds order is not consci-
entious if he cannot observe it in his nails. The great mind can
afford to descend to details ; it is only the weak mind that fears to
be narrowed by them. When Napoleon was at Munich he declined
the grand four-poster of the Witelsbach family, and slept as usual in
his little camp-bed. The power to be little is a proof of greatness.

For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more than the
bath, and as these parts are exposed and really lodge fugitive pollu-
tions, we cannot use too much soap, or give too much trouble to
their complete purification. Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small

90 . INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

white shell-like ear; few things reconcile us better to earth than
the cold hand and warm heart of a friend; but to complete the
charm, the hand should be both clean and soft. Warm water, a
liberal use of the nail-brush, and no stint of soap, produce this
amenity far more effectually than honey, cold cream, and almond
paste. Of wearing gloves I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak
people who are troubled with chilblains, they are indispensable all
the year round. I will add a good prescription for the cure of chil-
blains, which are both a disfigurement, and one of the petites
miser es of human life.

' ' R-oll the fingers in lio,en bandages, sew them up well, and dip
them twice or thrice a day in a mixture, consisting of half a fluid
ounce of tincture of capsicum, and a fluid ounce of tincture of
opium."

The person who invented razors libelled Nature, and added a
fresh misery to the days of man. ' ' Ah ! " said Diogenes, who would
never consent to be shaved, " would you insinuate that Nature had
done better to make you a woman than a man ? " As for barbers,
they have always been gossips and mischief-makers, and Arkwright,
who invented spinning by rollers, scarcely redeemed his trade from
universal dishonor. They have been the evil spirits of great men
too, whom they shaved and bearded in their private closets. It was
a barber who helped the late King of Oude to ruin the country he
governed ; and it was a barber who, at the beginning of the present
century, was the bottle-imp of a Bishop of Hereford. Who in fact
can respect a man whose sole office is to deprive his sex of their dis-
tinctive feature ?

It is said that Alexander the Great introduced shaving, to prevent
his soldiers being caught by the beard by their enemies, but the
conqueror of Asia must be absolved of priority in this iniquitous
custom, which he probably found prevalent in the countries he in-
vaded. At any rate it would appear that the Buddhist priests of
India were ashamed of their locks at least a century before, and

THE BEARD. 91

this reminds me that shaving and fanaticism have always gone to-
gether. The custom of the clergy wearing a womanish face is
purely Romanist, and I rejoice to see that many a good preacher in
the present day is not afraid to follow Cranmer and other fathers of
our Church in wearing a goodly beard. The Romish priests were
first ordered to shave when transubstantiation was established, from
a fear that the beard might fall into the cup. It is clear that a
Protestant chin ought to be well covered.

Whatever be said of the clergy, the custom of shaving came to
this country, like many other ugly personal habits, with the foreign
monarchs. As long as we had Plantagenets, Tudors, and Stuarts on
the throne, we were men as to the outward form. William of
Orange was ashamed of that very appendage which it is a disgrace
to a Mussulman to be without. Peter the Great had already proved
that barber and barbarian are derived from the same root, by laying
a tax on all capillary ornaments.

In England there has always been a great distinction between civil
and military men, and this is the only country in the world where
the latter have been held in such dislike as to compel them to
abandon their uniform in everyday life. Perhaps it was on this ac-
count that civilians in general adopted the coutumes of the learned
professions, least they should be thought to belong to that of the
sword. The beard and the rapier went out together at the begin-
ning of the last century. In the present day many a young shop-
boy joins " the mustache movement" solely with a hope of being
mistaken for a u captain."

WThatever Punch may say, the mustache and beard movement is
one in the right direction, proving that men are beginning to ap-
preciate beauty, and to acknowledge that Nature is the best valet.
But it is very amusing to hear men excusing their vanity on the
plea of health, and find them indulging in the hideous ' ' Newgate
frill" as a kind of compromise between the beard and the razor.
There was a time when it was thought a presumption and vanity to

92 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

wear one's own hair instead of the frightful elaborations of the wig-
makers, and the false curls which Sir Godfrey Kneller did his best
to make graceful on canvas. Who knows that at some future age
some Punch of the twenty-first century may not ridicule the wear-
ing of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's ? At any rate Nature
knows best, and no man need be ashamed of showing his manhood
in the hair of his face. Of razors and shaving therefore I shall only
speak from necessity, because, until everybody is sensible on this
point, they will still be used.

Napoleon shaved himself. UA born king," said he, u has an-
other to shave him. A made king can use his own razor." But the
war he made on his chin was very different to that he made on for-
eign potentates. He took a very long time to effect it, talking be-
tween whiles to his hangers-on. The great man, however, was
right, and every sensible man will shave himself, if only as an exercise
of character, for a man should learn to live in every detail without
assistance. Moreover, in most cases we shave ourselves better than
barbers can do. If we shave at all, we should do it thoroughly, and
every morning. Nothing, except a frown and a hay-fever, makes
the face look so unlovely as a chin covered with short stubble. The
chief requirements are hot water, a large soft brush of badger hair,*
a good razor, soft soap that will not dry rapidly, and a steady hand.
Cheap razors are a fallacy. They soon lose their edge, and no
amount of stropping will restore it. A good razor needs no strop.
If you can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one for
each day of the week, so that no one shall be too much used.
There are now much used packets of papers of a certain kind on
which to wipe the razor, and which keep its edge keen, and are a
substitute for the strop.

I may here remark, that the use of violet-powder after shaving,
now very common among well-dressed men, is one that should be
avoided. In the first place, it is almost always visible, and gives
an unnatural look to the face. I know a young lady, who, being

THE WHISKERS. 93

afflicted with a redness in a feature above the chin, is in the habit of
powdering- it. For a long time I thought her charming, but since I
made the discovery I can never look at her without a painful asso-
ciation with the pepper-castor. Violet powder also makes the skin
rough, and enlarges the pores of it sooner or later.

Beards, mustaches, and whiskers have always been most impor-
tant additions to the face. Italian conspirators are known by the
cut of those they wear ; and it is not long since an Englishman with
a beard was set down as an artist or a philosopher. In the present
day literary men are much given to their growth, and in that respect
show at once their taste and their vanity. Let no man be ashamed
of his beard, if it be well kept and not fantastically cut. The
mustache should be kept within limits. The Hungarians wear it
so long that they can tie the ends round their heads. The style of
the beard should be adopted to suit the face. A broad face should
wear a large full one ; a long face is improved by a sharp-pointed
one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the various styles,
and they are almost numberless. The chief point is to keep the
beard well-combed and in neat trim.

As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a pair of full
length. There is certainly a great vanity about them, but it may
be generally said that foppishness should be avoided in this as in
other points. Above all, the whiskers should never be curled, nor
pulled out to an absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close
with the scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too large,
and such fopperies as curling the points thereof, or twisting them
up to the fineness of needles — though patronized by the Emperor of
the French — are decidedly a proof of vanity. If a man wear the
hair on his face which nature has given him, in the manner that
nature distributes it, keex->s it clean, and prevents its overgrowth, he
cannot do wrong. If, on the other hand, he applies to Marie Cou-
pelle, and other advertisers, because he believes that " those dear
silky whiskers" will find favor in the eyes of the fair, he will, if

94 INSIDE THE DRESSING-ROOM.

unsuccessful, waste much money— if successful, incur the risk of
appearing ridiculous. All extravagances are vulgar, because they
are evidence of a pretence to being better than you are ; but a
single extravagance unsupported is perhaps worse than a number
together, which have at least the merit of consistency. If you copy
puppies in the half -yard of whisker, you should have their dress
and their manner too, if you would not appear doubly absurd.

The same remarks apply to the arrangement of the hair in men,
which should be as simple and as natural as possible, but at the
same time a little may be granted to beauty and the requirements
of the face. For my part I can see nothing unmanly in wearing
long hair, though undoubtedly it is inconvenient and a temptation
to vanity, while its arrangement would demand an amount of time
and attention which is unworthy of a man. But every nation and
every age has had a different custom in this respect, and to this day
even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn long. The German stu-
dent is particularly partial to hyacinthine locks curling' over a black
velvet coat; and the peasant of Brittany looks very handsome, if
not always clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down under a
broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the matter
severely. The old fathers preached and railed against wigs, the
Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bordeaux on the same account,
and English Roundheads consigned to an unmentionable place every
man who allowed his hair to grow according to nature. The Ro-
mans condemned tresses as unmanly, and in France in the middle
ages the privilege to wear them was confined to royalty. Our
modern custom was a revival of the French revolution, so that in
this respect we are now republican as well as puritanical.

If we conform to fashion we should at least make the best of it,
and since the main advantage of short hair is its neatness, we should
take care to keep ours neat. This should be done first by frequent
visits to the barber, for if the hair is to be short at all it should be
very short, and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled

THE HAIR. 95

masses sticking out over the ears. If it curls naturally so much the
better, but if not it will be easier to keep hi order. The next point
is to wash the head every morning, which, when once habitual, is a
great preservative against cold. I nevei have more than one cold
per annum, and I attribute this to my use of the morning bath, and
regular washing of my head. A pair of hard brushes, hard or soft,
as your case requires, should be used, not to hammer the head with,
but to pass up under the hair so as to reach the roots. As to
pomatum, Macassar, and other inventions of the hairdresser, I have
only to say, that if used at all, it should be in moderation, and never
sufficiently to make their scent perceptible in company. Of course
the arrangement will be a matter of individual taste, but as the
middle of the hair is the natural place for a parting, it is rather a
silly prejudice to think a man vain who parts his hair in the centre.
He is less blamable than one who is too lazy to part it at all, and
has always the appearance of having just got up.

Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and sermons since
the days of the Roman emperors, I shall say nothing here except
that they are a practical falsehood which may sometimes be neces-
sary, but is rarely successful. For my part I prefer the snows of
life's winter to the best made peruke, and even a bald head to an
inferior wig.

When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of their legs,
&i esquire was a necessity; and we can understand that, in the
days of the Beaux, the word "gentleman" meant a man and his
valet. I am glad to say that in the present day it only takes one
man to make a gentleman, or, at most, a man and a ninth — that is,
including the tailor. It is an excellent thing for the character to be
neat and orderly, and, if a man neglects to be so in his room, he is
open to the same temptation sooner or later in his person. A dress-
ing-case is, therefore, a desideratum. A closet to hang up cloth
clothes, which should never be folded, and a small dressing-room
next to the bed-room, are not so easily attainable. But the man

96 the lady's toilet.

who throws his clothes about the room, a boot in one corner, a
cravat in another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good
habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything about
him.

CHAPTER II.

THE LADY'S TOILET.

In no particular has the present generation become more fastidi-
ous than in what is requisite for the use of ladies in their own dress-
ing-rooms. Essences, powders, pastes, washes for the hair, washes
for the skin, recall the days of one's grandmother, when such appur-
tenances were thought essential and were essential ; for our great-
grandmothers were not rigid in points of personal cleanliness ; and
it is only uncleanliness that requires scents to conceal it, and applica-
tions to repair its ravages. Our great -grandmothers wore powder
and pomatum, and had their hair dressed three times a week ; going
to bed in the cushioned structure, after suffering torture for some
hours lest they should,, in the weakness of human infirmity, lean
back in their chairs. Our great-grandmothers, too, had their white
kid gloves sewn to the bottom of each sleeve, lest they should incur
the calamity of a sunburnt arm. Our great-grandmothers were
afraid of cold water, and delicately wiped their faces with the corner
of a towel no larger than a pocket handkerchief. There were those
amongst them who boasted that they had never washed their faces
in their whole span of existence, lest it should spoil their complex-
ions, but had only passed a cambric handkerchief over the delicate
brow and cheeks, wetted with elder flower water or rose water. I be-
lieve the nearest approach to the ablution we now diurnally practise
was the bathing their lovely countenances in May-dew, esteemed the

EARLY RISING. 97

finest thing in the morning for the skin by our belles of the last cen-
tury ; so they turned out betimes in high-heeled shoes and negliges,
trotted down the old avenues of many a patriarchal home to the
meadow, and saturating their kerchiefs in May-dew, refreshed with
it the cheeks flushed over-night at quadrille or great cassino, and
went home contented that a conscientious duty had been performed !

Nor were they wrong.- Some wise fairy of old must have inspired
the nymph whom she loved with the belief in May-dew ; tradition
handed down the counsel from one generation to another, the fairy,
or gnome, smiling all the while as she saw the lovely procession of
the squires' young daughters steal out and bend down amid the but-
ter-cups and ladies' -smock in the meadow ; she smiled, and as she
smiled, wafted to them good health, good spirits, and their type —
bloom. She had induced them by a stratagem — Heaven pity her
pious fraud ! — to take a preliminary step to beauty and its preserva-
tion ; she had beguiled them into early rising.

For, gentle ladies, you may wash, may bathe your forms and faces,
curl your locks, and shake out your crinoline ; use every essence
Atkinson has, wherewith to arrest the attention of wistful passers-
by ; you may walk by the hour., eat by rule, take beauty-sleep
before midnight, yet, if you are very long after the

" Sanguine sunrise with his meteor eyes"

in coming out and abroad from your chambers, youth will not stay
with you out his time, but, like an ill-behaved apprentice, will break
his indentures, and vow that he cannot abide with you. It is true
that rules for habitual early rising cannot be laid down for every
one, without especial reference to other habits ; very early rising,
after late parties, or great fatigue on the previous day, or extreme
delicacy of the lungs or throat, might even be pernicious, and its use
or abuse must be regulated by the physician. In those cases the
advice that is now given is for persons in an ordinary condition of
health. For them, and even with some exceptions for invalids, there
7

98 THE lady's toilet.

can be no habit of the day or life so important, as far as good looks
are concerned, as early rising. All other animals whose health is of
importance to man are forced to rise early. The horse, on whose
good condition his beauty, and therefore his value depends, is exer-
cised as early as possible. Our cattle on the uplands scent the morn-
ing breeze as it brings the odors of the woodbine ; the little house-
dog pants till he can rush forth from the pent-up heated chamber
to the fresh, lawn ; and why is this obvious law of nature of so great
importance to these objects of preference or of value ? The morn-
ing air is more strengthening, has a greater proportion of oxygen, be
it replied, than any other breeze that refreshes us by day, or when
" the pale purple even" warns us that our enjoyment of its delicious
sensations are not devoid of danger. No one catches cold in the
morning air, at least with the ordinary prudence of sufficient cloth-
ing. Fortified by sleep, the change of atmosphere is most salubri-
ous. To the careless and happy, what can be more delightful than
to feel all the freshness of nature soothing every sense, whilst the
great world and its interests and troubles is silent and slumbers ?
And it is this fresh breeze, this emancipation from the pent-up
chamber, this reviving influence, that combine to form a restorative,
such as neither medicine nor regimen can offer ; that preserves looks,
appetite for food, and bloom and delicacy of complexion.

An aged clergyman who had known not one day's illness was
asked his secret : ' ' Dry feet and early rising," was his reply ; ' ' these
are my only two precautions."

With regard then to what a French author calls " a whole Cyclo-
paedia of narcotics," young women forget that there is no royal road
to health and beauty. They must take the right path if they wish
to reap the reward. No person in good health should remain in bed
after seven o'clock, or half -past seven, in the spring and summer ;
that may, in fche present century, when the daughters of England
are reproached with self-indulgence, be termed early rising. She
may then be down stairs at eight, and without taking a long and

CLEANLINESS AND EXERCISE. 99

fatiguing' walk, saunter in the garden a little ; or, if in a large town,
have time to practise, supposing that the opportunity of going out
into the air is denied. By this means, that vigor which is the very
soul of comeliness, the absence of hurry and the sense of self-re-
proach incurred by late rising, and the hunger felt for breakfast,
will all conduce to arrest Time, as he hovers over his wholesale sub-
jects, and to beguile him into sparing that process with his scythe
by which he furrows the brow of the indolent with wrinkles, whilst
he colors the poor victim, at the same time, with his own pet prep-
aration of saffron.

Suppose then that this first and vital standing order for the toilet
be stringent, and that refreshed, and therefore energetic, buoyant,
and conscious of one duty being at least performed, the lady leaves
her bed and prepares to dress. L. E. L. used to say, for she was no
early riser, that " we begin every day with a struggle and a sacrifice."
But the struggle is soon changed by habit into an eager desire to get
up ; and the sacrifice, to the habitual early riser, is to be in bed.
She rises : if in summer, throws open the window for a quarter of
an hour, whilst the bath is being prepared, then closes it again, until
the ablutions are completed. The nature of these must be guided
in a great measure by the general health. Of all bracing processes,
to a sound constitution, that of the shower-bath is the greatest. It
should be used, however, only with the sanction of the physician. The
nervous energy is invigorated by it ; the digestion, a great desidera-
tum for the complexion, is improved ; the balance of circulation be-
tween the viscera and skin is maintained ; and taking cold — that
enemy of the graces, rheums, catarrhs, and sore throats are kept
off ; swelling glands are prevented, and the whole powers of the
frame increase. But, since the reaction is not in some delicate con-
stitutions sufficient to make the use of the shower-bath desirable,
the hip-bath, half filled with tepid water at first, and with cold after-
wards, or the sponging bath, are admirable modifications of the
shower-bath. Thus fortified, the lady who has courage to conquer

100 THE LADY'S TOILET.

a shower-bath, or to plunge into a hip-bath, can- face the morning
air, and go forth with the self- earned coat- of -mail, as a defence
against all that ugly family of catarrhal affections.

We now come to the toilet-table. This, in a lady's as well as in
a gentleman's room, should be always neatly set out, and every
article placed where it can be most conveniently used. In former
times, vast expense used to be bestowed on china, and even on gold
and silver toilet-services; then came the war, and the national
lioverty, and those luxurious appliances were let down, if not aban-
doned. We have now resumed them with a degree of expense that
is hardly wise or consistent. The secrets of the toilet were, indeed,
no fancied mysteries in former days. Until the first twenty years
of this century had passed away, many ladies of bon ton thought it
necessary, in order to complete their dress, to put a touch of rouge
on either cheek. The celebrated Mrs. Fitzherbert was rouged to
the very eyes — those beautiful deep blue eyes of hers. The old

Duchess of R enamelled, and usually fled from a room when the

windows were opened, as the compound, whatever formed of, was
apt to dissolve and run down the face. Queen Caroline (of Bruns-
wick) was rouged fearfully ; her daughter, noble in form, fair but
pale in complexion, disdained the art,

Still there were other means resorted to for attaining the white-
ness of skin which medical men dread, but which is certainly a very
striking and beautiful characteristic of an English woman. I once
knew a lady who was bled from time to time to keep the marble-
like whiteness of her complexion; others, to my knowledge, rub
their faces with bread-crumbs as one should a drawing. But, worst
of all, the use of pearl powder, or of violet powder, has been for the
last half century prevalent.

Independent of all sorts of art being unpleasant, no mistake of the
fair one is greater than this. She may powder, she may go forth
with a notion that the pearly whiteness of her brow, her neck, will
be deemed all her own ; but there are lights in which the small de-

ROUGE AND COSMETICS. 101

ception will "be visible, and the charm of all coloring" is gone when it
proves to be artificial. We tremble to think what is nnderneath.

There is another inconvenience attached to the nse of pearl powder,
its great nnwholesomeness. It checks the natural relief of the skin,
perspiration; and though it may not always injure the health, it
dries- up the cuticle, and invites as it were age to settle. Where
pearl powder has been made an article of habitual use, wrinkles
soon require additional layers to fill it up, just as worn-out roads
have ruts, and must be repaired ; but the macadamizing process can-
foot be applied to wrinkles.

Still more fatal is the use of cosmetics ; its extravagance, in the
first place, is an evil ; but I treat not of the moral question, but of
its physical effects. Some women spend as much on essences and
sweet waters as would enable them to take a journey, and thus do
more for their looks than all that a bureau full of cosmetics could
insure. Many an eruptive disease has arisen from the desire to
make the skin clear ; above all, avoid specifics. Your friends are in
the habit of saying, such a thing "is good for the complexion; "
but remember that complexion is the dial of constitution, and that
no two constitutions are alike. What is salutary in one case may
produce serious mischief in another.

For instance, when abroad, a lady who had been very much sun-
burnt was told that cucumbers cut into slices and pat into cream
produce a decoction that would take off the burning effects of the
sun. It is, in fact a remedy used by German ladies, who must,
however, have skins differently constituted than ours to bear it.
The lady used this very powerful specific, and her face was blis-
tered. Nothing, indeed, but time and cold weather will take away
the effects of the sun : butter-milk, from its gentle acid, has some
eificacy on certain skins, but it is a disagreeable remedy.

The softest possible water ought, however, to be resorted to in
washing the face ; and rain-water, filtered, is incomparably the best.
Great care should be taken not to check perspiration by washing

102 THE LADY S TOILET.

when heated; these are precautions consistent with nature, and
therefore valuable. The water should be dashed freely over the
the face several times, and the process be pursued in the middle of
the day, as well as in the morning and at dinner-time ; it is true, the
face may, without that, be clean all day, but it will not be fresh.
The Turkish towels now used so much are excellent for wiping, as
they do that important operation not only thoroughly, but without
irritating the skin ; the body, on the other hand, should be dried
with a coarse huckaback, an article unknown in France, but excel-
lent for promoting quick circulation in the frame after bathing.*
To complete, then, the toilet so far as the person is concerned ; with
few or no cosmetics, with nothing but the use of soap (the old
brown Windsor being still, in spite of all modern inventions, far the
best for the skin) ; to have the water brought in fresh in the morn-
ing, as that in the room is seldom, except in winter, really cool ;
these are the simple preservatives of the skin, which it is very easy
to injure and. irritate, and very difficult to restore to a healthy
condition. It must, ho w ever, be remembered that a healthy condi-
tion of the skin depends far less on external than on internal causes ;
and that good health, maintained by early rising, and a simple, nu-
tritive diet, is the great originator of a clear and blooming com-
plexion. In cases of eruption, however, do nothing without good
advice. Many an eruption which poisons the comfort even of the
strongest-minded woman, has been fixed beyond cure by dabblings
of Eau-de-Cologne on the face — thus exciting instead of allaying
the fiery enemy — milk of roses, essences, and cosmetics, whose name
is Legion. Such is the effect of desperation on the female mind,
that it has been even tried whether raw veal cutlets being put
on the face would not soften and improve the skin ; an act of folly
which can only be characterized as disgusting.

Banish, therefore, if free from any cutaneous disease, every es-
sence, cosmetic or sweet- water from your toilet ; and remember that
to keep the skin smooth and clean, all rubbing and touching should

THE HAIR. 103

be avoided; fresh air, when the heat of the sun is not intense, and
pure water, are the best and only cosmetics that can be used with-
out prejudice.

There are many alleviations to eruptive complaints. Among the
best is a solution of sulphur ; but even this should never be resorted
to without advice, and in the proper proportions. In many cases,
however, it almost immediately removes an eruption, by cooling the
skin ; hence it will be seen how very injurious are all essences with
spirit in them, which have a tendency to heat and inflammation.

u Do you want luxuriant hair ?" is a question we see daily in the
papers, answered, of course, by a specific. If possible, the skin of
the head requires even more tenderness and cleanliness than any
other portion of the body, and is very soon capable of being irritated
into disease. In respect of this, as of the complexion, people err,
generally, from doing too much. In the first place, the most per-
fect cleanliness must be enjoined ; formerly the use of a fine-tooth
comb was considered essential, and abroad it is still resorted to, and
is in some cases salutary. But, in general, to the careful brasher
the comb is not essential. I say the careful brusher, for great harm
is often done to the hairs by rude, sharp, irregular brushing. The
hairs should be separated with a comb, so that the head and not the
hairs be brushed. The brush should not be too hard ; it may
slightly redden the skin, but no more ; the use of pomatum should
be sparing, and confined to that of which the ingredients are known
— marrow and bear's grease are the best, and the former is most
easily obtained genuine. All scents are more or less injurious to the
hair, and they should be used in the slightest possible proportion.
To wash the roots of the hair from time to time with weak vinegar
and water, or with a solution of ammonia, cleanses it effectually,
whilst a yolk of an egg beaten up and mixed with warm water is
excellent for the skin and hair ; but it is troublesome to wash out,
and must be done by a careful maid. There is no risk, but great
benefit, in washing even the " luxuriant hair," of a person in health,

104 DEESS.

•
if done in warm weather, and well dried, or by a fire ; and a small
quantity of ammonia insures from catching cold. It is quite a mis-
take to suppose that washing the hair makes it coarse ; it renders it
glossy and flexible ; the washing cools the head, the heat of which
is the great source of baldness and gray hairs ; it prevents all that
smell from very thick hair which is detected in persons who trust to
the brush only ; lastly, it is one of the most refreshing personal oper-
ations, next to the bath, that can be devised.

A lady's hair should, in ordinary life, be dressed twice a day, even
if she does not vary the mode. To keep it cool and glossy, it re-
quires being completely taken down in the middle of the day, or in
the evening, according to the dinner-hours. The taste in dressing
it in the morning should be simple, without pins, bows, or any
foreign auxiliary to the best ornament of nature. I do not mean to
deprecate the use of the pads, as they are called, or supports under
the hair used at this time, because they supersede the necessity of
frizzing, which is always a process most injurious to the hair ; but I
own I object much to the ends of black lace, bows of ribbon, etc.,
used by many young women in their morning coiffure : of course,
for those past girlhood, and not old enough to wear caps, the case
is different.

CHAPTER III.

DRESS.

" A story," says an eminent writer, u is never too old to tell, if it
be made to sound new." If this be true, I may be excused for nar-
rating the following veritable history : In an Indian jungle there
once resided a tawny jackal, a member, as all those animals are, of
a jackal club which met at night in the said jungle. It was the

FASHION AND ITS LEADERS. 105

•
custom for the different subscribers to separate early in trie evening-
on predatory excursions, and on one occasion the individual in ques-
tion having dined very sparingly that day on a leg of horse, ventured,
in hopes of a supper, vvdthin the precincts of a neighboring town.
It happened that while employed in the prowling distinctive of his
kind, he fell into a sunken vat filled with indigo, and when he had
contrived to struggle out again, discovered, by the light of the
moon, that his coat had assumed a brilliant blue tinge. In vain he
rolled himself on the grass, in vain rubbed his sides against the
bushes of the jungle to which he speedily returned. The blue
stuck to him, and so, with the acuteness for which jackals are re-
nowned, he determined "to stick to" it. Shame indeed would
would have overcome him, ridicule have driven him to despair,
when he rejoined his club, but for this resolution. The very morning
he appeared among his kind, whisking his tail with glee, and holding
his head erect. A titter, of course, welcomed him, and before long,
you would have thought that every jackal present had been turned
into a laughing hyasna. Our hero was nothing abashed. i ' Gentle-
men," said he, in the dialect of Hindustani peculiar to his kind, " I
have been to town, and bring you the last new fashion." The
laughter changed to respectful admiration. One by one the mem-
bers of the club stole up to him and inquired, where he had met
with the coloring, just as George IY. asked Brummell what tailor
had made that coat. The address was imparted, and if on the fol-
lowing evening not all of the prowling beasts appeared in a blue
coat, it was only because three of them had been drowned in the
attempt to procure it.

The fable, which is a real Sanskrit one, will at once remind us ol
one concerning that sharp- nosed quadruped which farmers de-
nounce, and squires combine to run to death. But it has a moral as
well as a satirical bearing, and we believe that this moral has not
been done justice to. Fashion is called a despot ; but if men, like
the jackals and foxes, are willing, nay, eager to be its slaves, we

106 DRESS.

cannot, and ought not, to upbraid fashion. Its crowning is, in short,
nothing more than the confession that vanity makes of its own
weakness. We must be vain; we are weak; all we ask is to be
guided in our vanity.

The worst of it is, that the man who rebels against fashion, is
even more open to the imputation of vanity than he who obeys it,
because he makes himself conspicuous, and practically announces
that he is wiser than his kind. There cannot be greater vulgarity
than an affectation of superior simplicity. Between the two it is
left to the man of sense and modesty only to follow fashion so far
as not to make himself peculiar by opposing it.

Dress and sin came in together, and have kept good fellowship ever
since. If we could doubt, as some have done, the authenticity of
the Pentateuch, we should have to admit that its author was at
least the shrewdest observer of mankind, inasmuch as he makes a
love of dress the first consequence of the Fall. That it really was so,
we can be certain from the fact that it has always accompanied an
absence of goodness. The best dressers of every age have always
been the worst men and women. We do not pretend that the con-
verse is true, and that the best people have always dressed the
worst. Plato was at once a beau and a philosopher, and Descartes
was the former before he aspired to be the latter. But the love of
dress, take it as you will, can only arise from one of two closely
allied sins, vanity and pride; and when in excess, as in the miserable
beaux of different ages, it becomes as ridiculous in a man as the
glee of a South Sea islander over a handful of worthless glass
beads. No life can be more contemptible than one of which the
Helicon is a tailor's shop, and its paradise the Park ; no man more
truly wretched than he whose mind is only a mirror of his body,
and whose soul can fly no higher than a hat or a neck-tie ; who
strangles ambition with a yard-measure, and suffocates glory in
a boot. But this puny peacockism always brings its own punish-
ment. The fop ruins himself by his vanity, and ends a sloven, like

NEW AND OLD FASHIONS. 107

Goodman, first a well-dressed student of Cambridge, then an actor,
then a highwayman, who was at last reduced to share a shirt with
a fellow-fool, and had to keep his room on the days when the other
wore it.

But we must not suppose that this vanity lies in the following
more than in the outraging of fashion ; and if there were no such
thing as a universal rule of dress, we may be confident that there
would be just as much, if not more foppery, where each could dress
as he liked. When it could not glory in the roll of a coat-collar or
the turn of a hat-brim, it would show itself in richness of stuffs and
splendors of ornaments ; and while fashion has to be blamed for
many extravagances, the gold chains of one age, the huge wigs of
another, and the crinoline of a third, we must rejoice that it holds
so severe a sway over men's minds, when we find that at another
period it decrees simplicity, and legislates to put down superfluous
ornament. The wise man, therefore, who frets at its follies, will
attempt not to subvert, but rather to reform it ; not to tear from
his throne a monarch elected by universal suffrage, who will in-
stantly be reinstated, but to lead him by his own example, and, if
possible, by his voice, to make simple and sensible enactments.
Better a wise despot than a silly republic.

When kings were the ministers of fashion, dress was generally
costly and showy; when philosophers were its counsellors, it be-
came slovenly and untidy ; and when, as in the present day, it is
led by private gentlemen and private ladies, it is often absurd and
in bad taste, but generally tends towards simplicity. It is certainly
amusing, when looking back at the history of dress, to see how often
the story of the blue jackal may be cited. Yvrigs were inflicted on
our forefathers by a bald monarch, and we were tortured by stiff
cravats and high shirt-collars, because another had the king's evil
in his neck. Long skirts probably came in to hide a pair of un-
gainly feet, and hoops were introduced to make a queenly waist look
smaller than it was.

108 . DRESS.

There is, however, a difference between the prerogative of fashion
and that of other despots. While we are bound to yield a general
obedience to his laws, we have the right, without a loss of caste,
to disregard any which are manifestly absurd and inconvenient. If,
for example, a fashionable of the present day, to whom nature had
given an ugly foot, were to follow the example of Fulk, Duke of
Anjou, and introduce such long peaks to our boots that we could
not walk in them, we may be certain that their use would not sur-
vive a season, and would be confined to a class who have little to
do but look ornamental. It is certainly a consolation to find that in
the present day the fashions of male attire are restricted, not as
they once were, by royal edicts, but by the common sense of men
who know that dress ought to be convenient as well as elegant.
With ladies it is otherwise. Woman is still too generally believed to
have no higher mission than that of pleasing the senses rather than
the judgment of men, and so many women of all classes are idle,
that a fashion, however preposterous, is more readily accepted and
more universally adopted by them than by the stronger sex. And
this is the case even when the reform proposed is obviously most ad-
vantageous. How difficult, for instance, has it been to abolish the
stiff black hat and the throat-cutting collar, though the wide-awake
and the tumed-down collar were at once' more graceful and more
comfortable. How completely has the attempt to establish the
" peg-top" been a failure, though every man of sense who values
his health must feel that a loose covering is both more comfortable
and more healthy than a tight sheathing of cloth. The fact is, that
there is a conservatism in fashion which has the appearance of being
respectable, but is really slavish and silly; and the weekly satirists
who undertake to laugh down its extravagances have not always
the sense to appreciate its wisdom. Those in fact who are most
eager in the blind attack on fashion, are often really its more abject
and least sensible servants. ' To condemn a new fashion only because
it is new, is contemptibly shortsighted ; and the old wise gentle-

APPHOPEIATENESS. 109

inen who sneer at " new-fangled fancies" should first ascertain
whether the innovation is for the better or the worse.

But, after all, the changes of fashion are not sufficiently rapid or
violent in respect of men's dress, to make even our grandfathers un-
comfortable on account of their peculiarity. If the hat-brim and
coat-collar have lost what was once considered a graceful curl, if
huge shirt-collars and stiff cravats have given way to a freer arrange-
ment for the neck, if blue swallow-tailed coats and brass buttons
have been succeeded by blue frocks without them, and buff waist-
coats with painfully tight appendices, by white waistcoats and the
liberty of the leg, the change is not great enough to require a new
race of tailors, or make old men ridiculous even in our streets. But
while an old man in an old fashion not only passes muster, but
seems to acquire additional respectability from the antiquity of his
style, a young man can scarcely adopt his grandfather's wardrobe
without risking a smile. I remember once taking a friend of mine
— a country squire of one-and-twenty — to dine with some extremely
fashionable but not very well-bred bachelors. The appearance of
my companion was decidedly antique ; for, conservative to the back
and its covering, he prided himself on maintaining the style of his
worthy progenitor. I saw that the eye-glasses were turned on hirn
with a look of mingled pity and contempt, and in the course of din-
ner heard the following remarks pass between the host and -a
guest :

u Pray, G- — ," asked a lisping bewhiskered exquisite of the former,
' ' who is your fine old English gentleman ? What style do you call
it ? Rather George the Fourth— eh ! "

u Yes, rather," replied the host; "but," he added in a whisper,
" he has just come in to £12,000 a year and B Hall."

" Oh ! — aw, indeed ! Then of course he can afford to be eccen-
tric."

This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress : the first
of which I shall take is appropriateness. The age of the individual

110 DRESS.

is an important consideration in this respect ; and a man of sixty is
as absurd in the style of nineteen as my young friend in the high
cravat of Brummell's day. I know a gallant colonel who is master
of the ceremonies in a gay watering-place, and who, afraid of the
prim old-fashioned toumure of his confreres in similar localities, is
to be seen, though his hair is gray and his age not under five-and-
sixty, in a light cut-away, the " peg-top" continuations, and a turn-
down collar. It may be what younger blades will wear when they
reach his age, but in the present day the effect is ridiculous. We
may, therefore, give as a general rule, that after the turning-point
of life a man should eschew the changes of fashion in his own at-
tire, while he avoids complaining of it in the young. In the latter,
on the other hand, the observance of these changes must depend
partly on his taste and partly on his position. If wise, he will
adopt with alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace, the
ease, the healthfulness, and the convenience of his garments. He will-
be glad of greater freedom in the cut of his cloth clothes, of boots
with elastic sides instead of troublesome buttons or laces, of the
privilege to turn down his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid
as extravagant, elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waist-
coat, and expensive buttons. On the other hand, whatever his age,
he will have some respect to his profession and position in society.
He will remember how much the appearance of the man aids a judg-
ment of his character, and this test, which has often been cried
down, is in reality no bad one ; for a man who does not dress appro-
priately evinces a want of what is most necessary to professional
men — tact and discretion. I could not, for instance, feel confidence in
a young physician dressed as I am accustomed to see a guardsman ;
while, if my lawyer were a dandy in his ofiice, I should be inclined
to think he knew more of gay society than of Coke upon Lyttleton.
The dress of the clergy is not an arbitrary matter, yet I have seen
ecclesiastics, who, abandoning the white choker, lounge in an easy
costume, little different from that of their undergraduate days, and

APPROPRIATENESS. Ill

though it is certainly hard to condemn a man for life to the miseries
of black cloth, we have a right to expect that he should be proud
rather than ashamed of the badge of his high calling.

Position in society demands a like appropriateness. Well know-
ing the worldly value of a good coat, I would yet never recommend
a man of limited means to aspire to a fashionable appearance. In
the first place, he becomes thereby a walking falsehood ; in the sec-
ond, he cannot, without running into debt, which is another term for
dishonesty, maintain the style he has adopted. As he cannot af-
ford to change his suits as rapidly as fashion alters, he must avoid
following it in varying details. He will rush into wide sleeves one
month, in the hope of being fashionable, and before his coat is worn
out, the next month will bring in a narrow sleeve. We cannot, un-
fortunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak nowadays to
the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, ' ' long cloaks being now quite
out," as he tells us. Even when there is no poverty in the case, our
position must not be forgotten. The tradesman will win neither
customers nor friends by adorning himself in the mode of the club-
lounger ; and the clerk, or commercial traveller, who dresses fash-
ionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his antecedents, which
he may not care to have investigated. In general, it may be said
that there is vulgarity in dressing like those of a class above us,
since it must be taken as a proof of pretension.

I remember going to church hi a remote little village on the
borders of Wales, and being surprised to see enter, among the clod-
hoppers and simple folk of the place, a couple of young men
dressed in the height of fashion, and wearing yellow kid gloves and
patent leather boots. On inquiring I found them to be the sons of
a rich manufacturer, who had himself been once a working man,
and was residing in the neighborhood. I was not surprised, for
vulgar pretension was here carried out to the worst extreme. Bet-
ter-bred men would have known that, whatever their London cos-
tume, a difference must be made in the country. The rule may be

112 DRESS.

laid down that whatever we are we should assimilate, as far as con-
venient, to the customs and costumes of the place. While I had no
wish to see the sons of the parvenu appear in smock-frocks and
high-lows, I was reasonable in thinking that a rougher style of dress
would have been better, and this may be said for the country gener-
ally. As it is bad taste to flaunt the airs of the town among pro-
vincials, who know nothing of them, it is worse taste to display the
dress of a city in the quiet haunts of the rustics. The law which
we have enunciated, that all attempts at distinction by means of
dress is vulgar and pretentious, would be sufficient argument
against wearing London fashions in the country ; but if this is not
sufficient, we may picture the inconvenience of such a measure
under certain circumstances. Had a shower of rain descended at
the conclusion of the service, our two young sprigs of gentility
would have looked superbly ridiculous in their thin boots and light
gloves, and no London hansom to take refuge in, to say nothing
of spoiling one's boots and catching- cold.

While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress is both ad-
missible and desirable in the country, there are many occasions of
country visiting where a town man finds it difficult to decide. It is
almost peculiar to the country to unite the amusements of the day-
time with those of the evening ; of the open air with those of the
drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are long, you
will be asked to a pic-nic or an archery party, which will wind up
with dancing in-doors, and may even assume the character of a ball.
If you are aware of this beforehand, it will always be safe to send
your evening dress to your host's house, and you will learn from the
servants whether others have done the same, and whether, there-
fore, you will not be singular in asking leave to change your costume.
But if you are ignorant how the day is to end, you must be guided
partly by the hour of invitation, and partly by the extent of your in-
timacy with the family. I have actually known gentlemen arrive
at a large pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening dress, and pitied

TRAVELLING. . 113

them with all my heart, compelled as they were to suffer, in tight
black clothes, nnder a hot sun for eight hours, and dance after all in
the same dress. On the other hand, if you are asked to come an
hour or two before sunset, after six in summer, in the autumn after
five, you cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always
taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance with your
hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiarity to do otherwise.
In any case you desire to avoid singularity, so that if you can dis-
cover what others who are invited intend to wear, you can always
decide on your own attire. On the Continent there is a convenient
rule for these matters ; never appear after four in the afternoon in
morning dress ; but then gray trousers are there allowed instead of
black, and white waistcoats are still worn in the evening. At any
rate, it is possible to effect a compromise between the two styles of
costume, and if you are likely to be called upon to dance in the
evening, it will be well to wear thin boots, a black frock-coat, and a
small black neck-tie, and to put a pair of clean white gloves into
your pocket. You will thus be at least less conspicuous in the
dancing-room than in a light tweed suit.

Englishmen are undeniably the most conservative men in the
world, and in nothing do they show it more universally than in main-
taining their usual habits in any country, climate, or season.
L* Anglais en voyage has been a fruitful subject of ridicule both to
our own and foreign writers, and I shall therefore content myself
with saying that, while I would not have an Englishman adopt every
local habit or every fantastic costume of those among whom he finds
himself, I would fain see him avoid that distinctiveness in both
which is set down by our neighbors to pride and obstinacy. Excel-
lent, for instance, is the custom of shaking hands, but it has on the
Continent generally a much more friendly and particular significa-
tion, and is permitted between the sexes only after a long intimacy.
In fact, a French jeunefllle never takes a gentleman's hand unless
he is quite an ami de la maison, so that for an Englishman at a first
8

114 DRESS.

\isit to shake hands all round amounts to a familiarity. I shall
never forget the deep crimson on the cheeks of a charming girl to
whom I once introduced an English friend, and who was too well-
bred not to touch his proffered hand, but did so with an air of un-
mistakable surprise. " Qu'est-ce que c'est que votre ami," she
asked me afterwards ; " est-ce qu'il veut done m'embrasser ? " To
impose the manners of one's country on the people of another, is as
bad as to revive those of a past century.

In the middle of the last century it was the custom for a gentle-
man, on entering a room, to kiss the ladies all round on the cheek.
Had not my French friend as much right to blush as any English
young lady would if I were to subject her to the practice of the
charming but obsolete custom ?

Can anything be more painfully ridiculous than an Englishman
wearing a black silk hat and frock-coat of cloth under the sun of the
equator ? Yet such is our want of sense, or our love of national
costumes, however hideous, that it is the etiquette in our colonies,
whether in the tropics or the arctic regions, to wear precisely the
same stiff, hot court dress as at St. James'. However this might be
excused on the plea of uniformity in official dress, it is no excuse for
the fashion which imposes the coat, &c. , of Pall Mall on the gentle-
man of Calcutta or Colombo; and the same may be said of our own
fashion of wearing cloth clothes throughout the year. There is
many a summer's day in England as hot as any in Italy, and in gen-
eral the difference between our summer and that of France and
America is, that there the heat is glaring and clear — with us, if less
powerful, close and oppressive. Why then should my Lord Fashion
permit the Frenchman and Yankee to wear whole suits of white
linen, and condemn us to black cloth ? Nothing can be neater or
prettier, as modern dress goes, than the white coat, waistcoat, et
cetera with a straw hat and a bright blue tie ; but it is something to
say against it, that London smoke would necessitate a clean suit per
diem, which would materially augment the washing expenditure of

APPROPRIATENESS TO OCCASIONS. 115

our metropolitan Beaux Tibbses. The nearest approach, we are
allowed to make to a sensible costume, on days when we should like
to follow Sidney Smith's advice, by the removal of our flesh and
sitting in our skeletons, is that of light thin tweeds, but even these
are not countenanced in St. James' and the Park, and we must be
content to take refuge in a white waistcoat and the thinnest possible
material for our frock-coat. On the other hand, as our winters are
never very severe, we have only to choose thicker tweeds of a darker
color for that season, and the wrapper or great coat then becomes
not nearly so important an article as the indispensable umbrella. In
this country, therefore, as present fashions require, appropriateness
to the season will be easily acquired by a change of material and
color rather than of form, in our apparel.

Not so the distinction to be made according to size. As a rule,
tall men require long clothes — some few perhaps even in the nurse's
sense of those words — and short men short clothes. On the other
hand, Falstaff should beware of Jenny Wren coats and affect ample
wrappers, while Peter Schlemihl, and the whole race of thin men,
must eschew looseness as much in their garments as their morals.

Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different occasions, and
as this is an important subject, I shall treat of it separately. For
the present it is sufficient to point out that while every man should
avoid not only extravagance, but even brilliancy of dress on ordinary
occasions, there are some on which he may and ough$ to pay more
attention to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the
evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is a fixed
rule, from which we can depart only to be foppish or vulgar ; but in
morning dress there is greater liberty, and when we undertake to
mingle with those who are assembled avowedly for gayety, we
should not make ourselves remarkable by the dinginess of our dress.
Such occasions are open air entertainments, fetes, flower-shows,
archery-meetings, matinees and id genus omne, where much of the
pleasure to be derived depends on the general effect on the enjoyers,

116 DRESS.

and where, if we cannot pump up a look of mirth, we should at
least, if we go at all, wear the semblance of it in our dress. I have
a worthy little friend, who, I believe, is as well-disposed to his kind
as Lord Shaftesbury himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a
twinge of philosophy about him, frequents the gay meetings to which
he is asked in an old coat and a wide-awake. Some people take
him for a wit, but he soon shows that he does not aspire to that
character; others for a philosopher, but he is too good-mannered
for that ; others, poor man ! pronounce him a cynic, and all are
agreed that whatever he may be, he looks out of place and spoils the
general effect. I believe in my heart that he is the mildest of men,
but will not take the trouble to dress more than once a day. At
any rate, he has a character for eccentricity, which, I am sure, is
precisely what he would wish to avoid. That character is a most
delightful one for a bachelor and it is generally C celebs who holds
it, for it has been proved by statistics that there are four single to
one married man among the inhabitants of our mad-houses ; but
eccentricity yields a reputation which requires something to uphold
it, and even in Diogenes of the Tub it was extremely bad taste to
force himself into Plato's evening party without sandals, and noth-
ing but a dirty tunic on him.

Another requisite in dress is in its simplicity, with which I may
couple harmony of color. This simplicity is the only distinction
which a man of taste should aspire to in the matter of dress, but a
simplicity in appearance must proceed from a nicety in reality. One
should not be simply ill-dressed, but simply well-dressed. Lord
Castlereagh would never have been pronounced the most distin-
guished man in the gay court of Vienna, because he wore no orders
or ribbons among hundreds decorated with a profusion of those van-
ities, but because besides this he was dressed with taste. The charm
of Brummell's dress was its simplicity ; yet it cost him as much
thought, time, and care as the portfolio of a minister. The rules of
simplicity, therefore, are the rules of taste. All extravagance, all

JEWELRY. 117

splendor, and all profusion, must be avoided. The colors, in the
first place, must harmonize both with our complexion and with one
another; perhaps most of all with the color of the hair. All bright
colors should be avoided, such as red, yellow, sky-blue, and bright
green. Perhaps only a successful Australian gold digger would think
of choosing such colors for his coat, waistcoat, or trousers ; but there
are hundreds of young men who might select them for their gloves and
neck-ties. The deeper colors are, somehow or other, more manly, and
are certainly less striking. The same simplicity should be studied in
the avoidance of ornamentation. A few years ago it was the fashion
to trim the evening waistcoat with a border of gold lace. This is an
example of fashions always to be rebelled against. Then, too, extrava-
gance in the form of our dress is a sin against taste. . I remember
that long ribbons took the place of neck-ties some years ago. At
an Oxford commemoration, two friends of mine determined to cut a
figure in this matter, having little else to distinguish them. The one
wore two yards of bright pink, the other the same quantity of bright
blue ribbon round their necks. I have reason to believe they think
now that they both looked superbly ridiculous. In the same way,
if the trousers are worn wide, we should not wear them as loose as
a Turk's ; or if the sleeves are to be open, we should not rival the
ladies in this matter. And so on through a hundred details, gen-
erally remembering that to exaggerate a fashion is to assume a
character, and therefore vulgar. The wearing of jewelry comes
under this head. Jewels are an ornament to women, but a blemish
to men. They bespeak either effeminacy or a love of display. The
hand of a manr is honored in working, for labor is his mission ; and
the hand that wears its riches on its fingers has rarely worked hon-
estly to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is his honor.
Let that be bright and shining, well set in prudence, and all others
must darken before it. But as we are savages, and must have some
silly trickery to hang about us, a little, but very little, concession
may be made to our taste in this respect. I am quite serious when

118 DRESS.

I disadvise you from the use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and hat-
bands studded with jewels ; for when I see an incredulous young
man of the nineteenth century dangling from his watch-chain a
dozen silly u charms " (often the only ones he possesses), which
have no other use than to give a fair coquette a legitimate subject
on which to approach to closer intimacy, and which are revived from
the lowest superstitions of dark ages, and sometimes darker races,
I am quite justified in believing that some South African chieftain,
sufficiently rich to cut a dash in London, might introduce with
success the most peculiar fashions of his own country. However
this may be, there are already sufficient extravagances prevalent
among our young men to attack.

The man of good taste will wear as little jewelry as possible.
One handsome signet-ring on the little finger of the left hand, a
scarf-pin which is neither large nor showy, nor too intricate in its
design, and a light, rather thin watch-guard with a cross-bar, are
all that he ought to wear. But if he aspires to more than this, he
should observe the following rules :

1. Let everything be real and good. False jewelry is not only a
practical lie, but an absolute vulgarity, since its use arises from an
attempt to appear richer or grander than its wearer is.

2. Let it be simple. Elaborate studs, waistcoat-buttons, and
wrist-links, are all abominable. The last particularly should be as
plain as possible, consisting of plain gold ovals, with at most the
crest engraved upon them. Diamonds and brilliants are quite un-
suitable to men, whose jewelry should never be conspicuous. If you
happen to possess a single diamond of great value you may wear it
on great occasions as a ring, but no more than one ring should ever
be worn by a gentleman.

3. Let it be distinguished rather by its curiosity than its brilliance.
An antique orbit of old jewelry possesses more interest, particularly
if you are able to tell its history, than the most splendid production
of the goldsmith's shop.

LINEN. 119

4. Let it harmonize with the colors of your dress.

5. Let it have some rise. Men should never, like women, wear
jewels for mere ornament, whatever may be the fashion of Hungar-
ian noblemen, and deposed Indian rajahs, with jackets covered with
rubies.

The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even our scarf-
pins are more suitable without them. English taste has also the
superiority over that of the Continent in condemning the wearing of
orders, clasps, and ribbons, except at court or on official occasions. If
these are really given for merit, they will add nothing to our fame ;
if, as in nine cases out of ten, they are bestowed merely because
the recipient has done his duty, they may impose on fools, but will,
if anything, provoke only awkward inquiries from sensible men. If
it be permitted to flauat our bravery or our learning on the coat-
collar, as much as to cry, like little Jack Homer, ; ' See what a good
boy am I!" I cannot for my part discover why a curate should
not carry his silver teapot about with him, or Mr. Morison enlarge
his phylacteries with a selection from the one million cases of ' ' al-
most miraculous cures."

The dress that is both appropriate and simple can never offend,
nor render its wearer conspicuous, though it may distinguish him
for his good taste. But it will not be pleasing unless clean and fresh.
We cannot quarrel with a poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his
linen be pure, and we see that he has never attempted to dress be-
yond his means or unsuitably to his station. But the sight of de-
cayed gentility and dilapidated fashion may call forth our pity, and
at the same time prompt a moral : u You have evidently sunken,"
we say to ourselves; " but whose fault was it? Am I not led to
suppose that the extravagance which you evidently once revelled in
has brought you to what I now see you ? " While freshness is essen-
tial to being well-dressed, it will be a consolation to those who can-
not afford a heavy tailor's bill, to reflect that a visible newness hi
one's clothes is as bad as patches and darns, and to remember that

120 DRESS.

there have been celebrated dressers who would never put on a new
coat till it had been worn two or three times by their valets. On
the other hand, there is no excuse — except at Donnybrook — for un-
tidiness, holes in the boots, a broken hat, torn gloves, and so on.
Indeed, it is better to wear no gloves at all than a pair full of holes.
There is nothing to be ashamed of in bare hands if they are clean,
and the poor can still afford to have their shirts and shoes mended,
and their hats ironed. It is certainly better to show signs of neat-
ness than the reverse, and you need sooner be ashamed of a hole
than a darn.

Of personal cleanliness I have spoken at such length, that little
need be said on that of the clothes. If you are economical with
your tailor, you can be extravagant with your laundress. The
beaux of forty years back put on three shifts a day, but except in
hot weather one is sufficient. Of course, if you change your dress
in the evening you must change your shirt too. There has been a
great outcry against colored flannel shirts in the place of linen, and
the man who can wear one for three days is looked on as little better
than St. Simeon Stylites. I should like to know how often the ad-
vocates of linen change their own under-flannel, and whether the
same rule does not apply to what is seen as to what is concealed.
But while the flannel is perhaps healthier as absorbing the moisture
more rapidly, the linen has the advantage of looking cleaner, and
may therefore be preferred. As to economy, if the flannel costs less
to wash, it also wears out sooner; but, be this as it may, a man's
wardrobe is not complete without half a dozen or so of these shirts,
which he will find most useful, and ten times more comfortable than
linen in long excursions, or when exertion will be required. Flannel,
too, has the advantage of being warm in winter and cool in summer,
for, being a non-conductor, but a retainer of heat, it protects the
body from the sun, and, on the other hand, shields it from the cold.
But the best shirt of all, particularly in winter, is that which wily
monks and hermits pretended to wear for a penance, well knowing

LINEN. 121

that they could have no garment cooler, more comfortable, or more
healthy. I mean, of course, the rough hair-shirt. Like flannel, it
is a non-conductor of heat; but then, too, it acts the part of a
shampooer, and with its perpetual friction soothes the surface of
the skin, and prevents the circulation from being arrested at any
one point of the body. Though I doubt if any of my readers will
take a hint from the wisdom of the merry anchorites, they will per-
haps allow me to suggest that the next best thing to wear next the
skin is flannel, and that, too, of the coarsest description.

Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevertheless it should
be fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which we borrowed from the
French some four years ago, is a great improvement on the old tight
wristband, and indeed, it must be borne in mind that anything
which binds any part of the body tightly impedes the circulation,
and is therefore unhealthy as well as ungraceful. Who more hide-
ous and unnatural than an officer of the Russian or Austrian army —
compelled to reduce his waist to a certain size — unless it be a danc-
ing-master in stays ? At Munich, I remember there was a somewhat
corpulent major of the G-uards, who, it was said, took two men to
buckle his belt in the morning, and was unable to speak for about an
hour after the operation. His face, of course, was of a most un-
sightly crimson.

The necessity for a large stock of linen depends on a rule far bet-
ter than Brummell's, of three shirts a day, viz. :

Change your linen whenever it is at all dirty.

This is the best guide with regard to collars, socks, pocket-hand-
kerchiefs, and our under garments. No rule can be laid down for
the number we should wear per week, for everything depends on
circumstances. Thus in the country all our linen remains longer
clean than in London ; in dirty, wet, or dusty weather, our socks
get soon dirty and must be changed ; or, if we have a cold, to say
nothing of the possible but not probable case of tear- shedding on
the departure of friends, or of sensitive young ladies over a Crimean

122 DRESS.

engagement, we shall want more than one pocket handkerchief per
diem. In fact, the last article of modem civilization is put to so
many uses, is so much displayed, and liable to be called into action
on so many various engagements, that we should always have a clean
one in our pockets. Who knows when it may not serve us in good
stead ? Who can tell how often the comer of the delicate cambric
will have to represent a tear which, like difficult passages in novels,
is "left to the imagination." Can a man of any feeling call on a
disconsolate widow, for instance, and listen to her woes, without at
least pulling out that expressive appendage ? Can any one believe in
our sympathy if the article in question is a dirty one ? There are
some people who, like the clouds, only exist to weep; and King
Solomon, though not one of them, has given them great encourage-
ment in speaking of the house of mourning. We are bound to
weep with them, and we are bound to weep elegantly.

A man whose dress is neat, clean, simple, and appropriate, will
pass muster anywhere. But he cannot always wear the same
clothes, like Werther. The late Mr. Fountayn Wilson, notorious for
his wealth and stinginess, thought otherwise. When Napoleon the
First was threatening England, and there was the same mania for
volunteer corps as now, he bought up an immense quantity of gray
cloth, in the hope that the government would give a good price for
it later. He was disappointed, and to make use of his purchase,
determined to wear nothing else himself for the rest of his life.
Future biographers may perhaps invent a similar story, to account
for Lord Brougham's partiality to checked trousers.

A well-dressed man does not require so much an extensive as a
varied wardrobe. He wants a different costume for every season
and every occasion ; but if what he selects is simple rather than
striking, he may appear in the same clothes as often as he
likes, as long as they are fresh and appropriate to the season and
the object. There are four kinds of coats which he must have : a
morning-coat, a frock-coat, a dress-coat, and an over-coat. An

STYLE IN MORNING DRESS. 123

economical man may do well with four of the first, and one of each
of the others per annum. George the Fourth's wardrobe sold for
£15,000, and a single cloak brought no less than £800. But George
was a king and a beau, and in debt to his tailor. The dress of an
English gentleman in the present day should not cost him more than
the tenth part of his income on an average. But as fortunes vary
more than position, if his income is large it will take a much smaller
proportion, if small a larger one. But generally speaking, a man
with £3 0 a year should not devote more than £80 to his outward
man. The seven coats in question will cost about £18. Six pairs x
of morning, and one of evening trousers, will cost £9. Four morn-
ing waistcoats, and one for evening, make another £4. Gloves,
linen, hats, scarves and neck-ties about £10, and the important
item of boots, at least £5 more. This, I take it, is a sufficient ward-
robe for a well-dressed man who employs a moderate tailor, and the
whole is under £50. It is quite possible to dress decently for half
that sum, and men of small means should be content to do so. If
a man, however, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so,
there are some things which are indispensable to even proper dress-
ing, and every occasion will have its proper attire.

In his own house, then, and in the morning, there is no reason
why he should not wear out his old clothes. Some men take to the
delightful ease of a dressing-gown and slippers ; and if bachelors,
they do well. If family men, it will probably depend on whether
the lady or the gentleman wears the pantaloons. The best walking-
dress for a non-professional man is a suit of tweed of the same color,
ordinary boots, gloves not too dark for the coat, a scarf with a pin
in winter, or a small tie of one color in summer, a respectable black
hat, and a cane. The last item is perhaps the most important, and
though its use varies with fashion, I confess I am sorry when I see
it go out. The Englishman does not gesticulate when talking, and
in consequence has nothing to do with his hands. To put them in
his pockets is the natural action, but this gives an appearance of

124 DRESS.

lounging' insouciance, or impudent determination, which becomes
very few men, if any. The best substitute for a walking-stick is an
umbrella, not a parasol unless it be given you by a lady to carry.
The main point of the walking-dress is the harmony of colors, but
this should not be carried to the extent of M. de Maltzan, who some
years ago made a bet to wear nothing but pink at Baden-Baden for
a whole year, and had boots and gloves of the same lively hue. He
won his wager, but also the sobriquet of "Le Diable enflamme. "
The walking- dress should vary according to the place and hour. In
the country or at the seaside a straw hat or wide-awake may take
the place of the beaver, and the nuisance of gloves be even dispensed
with in the former. But in London, where a man is supposed to
make visits as well as lounge in the Park, the frock coat of very
dark blue or black, or a black cloth cutaway, the white waistcoat,
and lavender gloves are almost dispensable. Very thin boots should
be avoided at all times and whatever clothes one wears they should
be well brushed. The shirt, whether seen or not, should be quite
plain. The shirt collar should never have a color on it, but it may
be stiff or turned down according as the wearer is Byronically or
Brummellically disposed. The scarf, if simple and of modest colors,
is perhaps the best thing we can wear round the neck ; but if a
neck-tie is preferred it should not be too long, nor tied in too stiff
and studied a manner. Brummell made his reputation by the knot
of his cravat, and even in so tiny a trifle a man may show his taste
or his want of it. The cane should be extremely simple, a mere
stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the town not rough,
thick, or clumsy ; nor of the style beloved of Corporal Shanks of the
Fusileers. The frock-coat should be ample and loose, and a tall
well-built man may throw it back. At any rate, it should never be
buttoned up. Great-coats are so little worn in this country that I
need say little about them. If worn at all, they should be buttoned
up, of a dark color, not quite black, longer than the frock-coat, but
never long enough to reach the ankles. If you have visits to make

STYLE IN MOBNING DRESS. 125

you should do away with the great-coat, if the weather allows you
to do so. On the Continent it is always removed before entering" a
drawing-room, but not so in England. The frock-coat, or black cut-
away, with a white waistcoat in summer, is the best dress for mak-
ing calls in.

It is certainly very hard that a man may not wear what he likes,
and that if I have a fancy to grandeur, and a fine pair of shoulders,
I may not be allowed to strut along Pall Mall in a Roman toga ; or
having lost a seventeenth cousin removed, am forbidden by the
laws — at least those of Policeman Z 500, who most certainly would
insist on my "moving on" — to array myself in a paletot of sack-
cloth, with a unique head-dress of well-sifted cinders ; but so it is,
and if my relatives did not commit me to the walls of some delight-
ful suburban "Retreat," patronized by Doctor Conolly, and make
the toga an excuse for appropriating my small income, — even if the
small boys would let me alone, and I could walk without a band of
self-appointed and vociferous retainers, there would still be that
terrible monosyllable, snob, to cure me in. a moment of a weakness for
classical attire. I will not enlighten you as to the amount of horror
I feel at the mere mention of that title ; I will only say that those
who do not care whether the title is given them or not, can afford
to dress in any style they like. Those who do, on the other hand,
must avoid certain articles of attire which are either obsolete or
peculiar to a class. Thus unless a man is really a groom, why
should he aspire to be like one ? Why should he compress his
lower limbs into the very tightest of garments, made for a man of
seven feet high, and worn by one of five, necessitating in conse-
quence a peculiar wrinkling from the foot to the knee, which seems
to find immense favor in the eyes of the stable-boy. Unless you
are a prize-fighter, again why should you patronize a neck-tie of
Waterloo blue with white spots on it, commonly known as the
"bird's-eye" pattern, and much affected by candidates for the
champion's belt. If your lot has not been cast behind the counter

126 DEESS.

of a haberdasher, can there be any obvious reason why you should
clothe your nether man in a stuff of the largest possible check, and
the most vivid colors? Or if fortune did not select you for a
"light" in some sect, or at any rate for the position of a small
tradesman, can you on any plausible grounds defend the fact that
you are seen in the morning in a swallow-tail black cloth coat, and a
black satin tie ? Nay, if like Mr. Fountayn Wilson, you have been
speculating in cloth, black instead of gray, and had twenty thousand
yards on your hands, you must on no consideration put any of them
on your legs before a certain hour of the evening. Of course you
may, if you please, wear jockey trousers, broad patterns, bird's-eye
handkerchiefs, tail-coats, and black cloth, at any hour of the day,
and in any portion of the civilized world, but it will be under pain
and penalty of being dubbed by that terrible monosyllable, which
nothing could induce me to repeat. No, it must be a shooting
coat of any cut or color, or a frock-coat that is dark, or in winter
an over-coat, but it may never be a tail-coat, and so on with the
rest. You may dress like a bargee, in shorts and gray stockings,
like a chimney-sweep in the deepest mourning, like a costermonger,
a coalheaver, a shoeblack, or as M. de Maltzan did, like " Sa Ma-
jeste d'en bas," and you will either be taken for a bargee, chimney-
sweep, costermonger, coalheaver, shoeblack, or demon, or you will
be set down as eccentric ; but if, while not discarding your ordinary
attire, you adopt some portion peculiar to a class below you, you
will, I regret to say, be, certainly most uncharitably, entitled only
a snob.

So much for morning dress.

It is simple nonsense to talk of modem civilization, and rejoice
that the cruelties of the dark ages can never be perpetrated in these
days and this country. I maintain that they are perpetrated freely,
generally, daily, with the consent of the wretched victim himself,
in the compulsion to wear evening clothes. Is there anything at
once more comfortless or more hideous ? Let us begin with what

LIMB-COVERS. 127

the delicate Americans call limb-covers, which we are told were the
invention of the Gauls, but I am inclined to think, of a much worse
race, for it is clearly an anachronism to ascribe the discovery to a
Venetian called Piantaleone, and it can only have been Inquisitors or
demons who inflicted this scourge on the race of man, and his ninth-
parts, the tailors, for I take it that both are equally bothered by the
tight pantaloon. Let us pause awhile over this unsightly garment,
and console ourselves with the reflection that as every country, and
almost every year has a different fashion in its make of it, we may
at last be emancipated from it altogether, or at least be able to wear
it a la Turqiie.

Whenever I call at a great house, which, as I am a writer on eti-
quette, must, of course, be very often, I confess to feeling a most
trying insignificance in the presence of the splendid Mercury who
ushers me in. Why is this ? Neither physically, mentally, by posi-
tion, education, nor genius, am I his inferior, and yet I shrink be-
fore him. On the other hand, if it is a butler in plain clothes who
admits me, like Bob Acres, I feel all my courage ooze back again.
I gave my nights, long and sleepless, to the consideration of this
XJroblem, and have now arrived at a satisfactory explanation. It is
not the tall figure and magnificent whiskers ; it is not the gold lace
and rich red plush ; it is not the majestically indifferent air of John
Thomas that appalls me ; it is the consciousness that my legs — my,
as a man, most important and distinctive limbs — are in an inferior
position to his. As an artist, I cannot but recognize the superior
beauty of his figure. And for this disgrace, this ignominy I suffer, I
have to thank the Celts with their braccce, and the bad taste of some
calfless monarch or leader of fashion — probably a German, for all
Germans have bad taste and bad legs — who revived this odious, long
obsolete instrument of personal torture. It is nothing less, believe
me. Independent of a loss of personal beauty, there is the unhealth-
iness of a tight garment clinging to the very portion which we ex-
ercise most, and which most demands a free circulation. It is true,

128 DRESS.

that tlie old-fashioned breeches, if too tightly fastened round the
knee, produced the same effect, and Maria Macklin, a celebrated
actress of male characters, almost lost her leg by vanity in the mat-
ter of ' ; Honi soit qui mal y pense ; " but, after all, what is not a
cool stocking to a hot bag of thick stuff round the leg ; how far
preferable the freedom of trunk-hose, to the hardly fought liberty
of the u peg-top" trousers. But it is not all trousers that I rebel
against. If I might wear linen appendices in summer, and fur con-
tinuations in winter, I would not groan, but it is^the evening dress
that inflicts on the man who likes society the necessity of wearing
the same trying cloth all the year round, so that under Boreas he
catches colds, and under the dog-star he melts. They manage these
things better abroad. In America a man may go to a ball in white
ducks. In France he has the option of light gray. But in England
we are doomed for ever to buckskin. This unmentionable, but
most necessary disguise of the u human form divine," is one that
never -varies in this country, and therefore I must lay down the
rule :

For all evening wear — black cloth trousers.

But the tortures of evening dress do not end with our lower limbs.
Of all the iniquities perpetrated under the Reign of Terror, none
has lasted so long as that of the straight- jacket, which was palmed
off on the people as a "habit de compagnie." If it were necessary
to sing a hymn of praise to Robespierre, Marat, and Co. , I would
rather take the guillotine as my subject to extol than the swallow-
tail. And yet we endure the stiffness, unsightliness, uncomfortable-
ness, and want of grace of the latter, with more resignation than
that with which Charlotte Corday put her beautiful neck into the
" trou d'enfer" of the former. Fortunately modern republicanism
has triumphed over ancient etiquette, and the tail-coat of to-day is
looser and more easy than it was twenty years ago. I can only say,
let us never strive to make it bearable, till we have abolished it.
Let us abjure such vulgarities as silk collars, white silk linings, and

EVENIKG DRESS. 129

so forth, which attempt to beautify this monstrosity, as a hangman
might wreathe his gallows with roses. The plainer the manner in
which you wear your misery, the better.

Then again the black waistcoat, stiff, tight, and comfortless.
Fancy Falstaff in a ball-dress such as we now wear. No amount of
embroidery, gold-trimmings, or jewel-buttons will render such an
infliction grateful to the mass. The best plan is to wear thorough
mourning for your wretchedness. In France and America, the
cooler white waistcoat is admitted. "We have scouted it, and left it
to aldermen and shopkeepers. Would I were an alderman or a shop-
keeper in the middle of July, when I am compelled to dance in a full
attire of black cloth. However, as we have it, let us make the best
of it, and not parade our misery by hideous ornamentation. The
only evening waistcoat for all purposes for a man of taste is one of
simple black cloth, with the simplest possible buttons.

These three items never vary for dinner-party, muffin- worry, or
ball. The only distinction allowed is in the neck-tie. For dinner,
the opera, and balls, this must be white, and the smaller the better.
It should be, too, of a washable texture, not silk, nor netted, nor
hanging down, nor of any foppish production, but a simple white
tie without embroidery. The black tie is only admitted for evening
parties, and should be equally simple. The shirt front which figures
under the tie should be plain, with unpretending small plaits. All
the elaborations which the French have introduced among us in this
particular, and the custom of wearing pink under the shirt, are an
abomination to party-goers. The glove must be white, not yellow.
Recently, indeed, a fashion has sprung up of wearing lavender gloves
in the evening. They are economical, and as all economy is an
abomination, must be avoided. G-loves should always be worn at a
ball. At a dinner-party in town they should be worn on entering
the room, and drawn off for dinner. While, on the one hand, we
must avoid the awkwardness of a gallant sea captain who, wearing
no gloves at a dance, excused himself to hi3 partner by saying,
9

130 DKESS.

" Never mind, Miss, I can wash my hands when I've done dancing,"
we have no need in the present day to copy the Roman gentleman
mentioned by Athenseus, who wore gloves at dinner that he might
pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly than the bare-handed
guests. As to gloves at tea-parties and so forth, we are generally
safer with than without them. If it is quite a small party, we may
leave them in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely ex-
pected to be worn ; but " touch not a cat but with a glove ; " you
are always safer with them.

Not so in the matter of the hat. In France and Germany the hat
is brought into a ball-room and drawing-room under all circum-
stances, and great is the confusion arising therefrom, a man having
every chance of finding his new hat exchanged for an old one under
a seat. I once walked home from a German ball as bareheaded as
a friar, some well-dressed robber having not only exchanged his hat
with mine, but to prevent detection carried off his own too. I shall
not easily forget the consternation in an English party to which I
went soon after my return from the Continent, unconsciously car-
rying in my hat, and the host could not restrain some small facetious
allusion to it, when I looked for it under the table before going
away. A ' ' Gibus " prevents all such difficulties ; yet as a general
rule in England the hat should be left outside.

I must not quit this subject without assuring myself that my
reader knows more about it now than he did before. In fact I
have taken one thing for granted, viz. , that he knows what it is to be
dressed, and what undressed. Of course I do not suppose him to be
in the blissful state of ignorance on the subject once enjoyed by our
first parents. I use the words u dressed" and u undressed " rather
in the sense meant by a military tailor, or a cook with reference to a
salad. You need not be shocked. I am one of those people who
wear spectacles for fear of seeing anything with the naked eye. I
am the soul of scrupulosity. But I am wondering whether every-
body arranges his wardrobe as our ungrammatical nurses used to do

DRESSED, UNDRESSED, AND MUCH DRESSED. 131

ours, under the heads of " best, second-best, third-best," and so on,
and knows what things ought to be placed under each. To be " un-
dressed " is to be dressed for work and ordinary occupations, to wear
a coat which you do not fear to spoil, and a neck-tie which your
inkstand will not object to, but your acquaintance might. To be
u dressed," on the other hand, since by dress we show our respect
for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to mingle, is
to be clothed in the garments which the said society pronounces as
suitable to particular occasions ; so that evening dress in the morn-
ing, morning dress in the evening, and top boots and a red coat for
walking, may all be called " undress " if not positively " bad dress."
But there are shades of being " dressed ;" and a man is called "little
dressed," " well dressed," and "much dressed," not according to the
quantity but the quality of his coverings. The diminutive jockey,
whom I meet in my walks a month before the Derby, looking like a
ball of clothes, and undergoing a most uncomfortable process of
liquefaction which he denominates "training," is by no means
' * much dressed " because he wears two great-coats, three thick
waistcoats and the same number of "comforters." To be "little
dressed " is to wear old things, of a make that is no longer the fash-
ion, having no pretension to elegance, artistic beauty, or ornament.
It is also to wear lounging clothes on occasions which demand some
amount of precision. To be "much dressed" is to be in the ex-
treme of the fashion, with bran new clothes, jewelry, and ornaments,
with a touch of extravagance and gayety in your colors. Thus to
wear patent leather boots and yellow gloves in a quiet morning stroll
is to be much dressed, and certainly dees not differ immensely from
being badly dressed. To be " well dressed " is the happy medium be-
tween these two, which is not given to every one to hold, inasmuch as
good taste is rare, and is a sine qua non thereof. Thus, while you
avoid ornament and all fastness, you must cultivate fashion, that is,
good fashion, in the make of your clothes. A man must not be
made by his tailor, but should make him, educate him, give him his

132 DRESS.

own good taste. To be well dressed is to be dressed precisely
as the occasion, place, weather, your height, figure, position, age,
and, remember it, your means require. It is to be clothed without
peculiarity, pretension, or eccentricity ; without violent colors,
elaborate ornament, or senseless fashions, introduced often by tailors
for their own profit. Good dressing is to wear as little jewelry as
possible, to be scrupulously neat, clean, and fresh, and to carry your
clothes as if you did not give them a thought.

Then too there is a scale of honor among clothes, which must not
be forgotten. Thus, a new coat is more honorable than an old one,
a cut-away or shooting-coat than a dressing-gown, a frock-coat than
a cut-away, a dark blue frock-coat than a black frock-coat, a tail-
• coat than a frock-coat. There is no honor at all in a blue tail-coat,
however, except on a gentleman of eighty, accompanied with brass
buttons and a buff waistcoat. There is more honor in an old hunt-
ing-coat than in a new one, in a uniform with a bullet hole in it than
one without, in a fustian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-
coat, because they are types of labor, which is far more honorable
than lounging. Again, light clothes are generally placed above dark
ones, because they cannot be so long worn, and are therefore proofs
of expenditure, alias money, which in this world is a commodity more
honored than every other ; but on the other hand, tasteful dress is
always more honorable than that which has only cost much. Light
gloves are more esteemed than dark ones, and the prince of glove-
colors is undeniably lavender.

u I should say Jones was a fast man," said a friend to me one day,
' ' for he wears a white hat." If this idea of my companions be right,
fastness may be said to consist mainly in peculiarity. There is certain-
ly only one step from the sublimity of fastness to the ridiculousness
of snobbery, and it is not always easy to say where the one ends and
the other begins. A dandy, on the other hand, is the clothes on a man,
not a man in clothes, a living lay figure who displays much dress,
and is quite satisfied if you praise it without taking heed to him. A

lady's dress. 133

bear is in the opposite extreme ; never dressed enough and always
very roughly ; but he is almost as bad as the other, for he sacrifices
everything to his ease and comfort. The off-hand style of dress only
surts an off-hand character. It was at one time the fashion to affect
a certain negligence, which was called poetic, and supposed to be
the result of genius. An ill-tied, if not positively untied cravat was
a sure sign of an unbridled imagination ; and a waistcoat was held
together by one button only, as if the swelling soul in the wearer's
bosom had burst all the rest. If in addition to this the hair was
unbrushed and curly, you were certain of passing for a u man of
soul." I should not recommend any young gentleman to adopt this
style, unless indeed he can mouth a great deal, and has a good stock
of quotations from the poets. It is of no use to show me the clouds,
unless I can positively see you in them, and no amount of negligence
in your dress and person will convince me you are a genius, unless
you produce an octavo volume of poems published by yourself . I
confess I am glad that the neglige style, so common in novels of ten
years back, has been succeeded by neatness. What we want is
real ease in the clothes, and for my part I should rejoice to see the
Knickerbocker style generally adopted.

CHAPTER IV.

lady's dress.

Far from being of the opinion expressed by Katherine of Arragon
that " dressing time is murdered time," the woman, we are apt to
think, who has not some natural taste in dress, some love of novelty,
some delight in the combination of colors, is deficient in a sense of
the beautiful. As a work of art, a well-dressed woman is a study.

131 lady's dress.

That a love of dress is natural in woman, and that it has some
great advantages, is so plain as to "be scarcely worth recording. It
does not follow that it should engross every other taste ; it is only
the coquette's heart, which, as Addison describes it, is stuffed with
"a flame-colored hood." From the days of Anne Boleyn, who
varied her dress every day, and who wore a small kerchief over her
round neck to conceal a mark thereon, and a falling sleeve to hide
her doubly-tipped little finger, dress has had its place in the heart of
Englishwomen. And it is as well that it should do so ; for the
dowdy, be she young or be she old, is sure to hear of her deficiencies
from her husband, if she has not already done so from brothers and
fancy cousins. Indifference and consequent inattention to dress
often show pedantry, self -righteousness, or indolence ; and whilst
extolled by the "unco gude " as a virtue, may be noted as a defect.
Every woman should, habitually, make the best of herself. We
dress out our receiving rooms with natural flowers ; are their inmates
to look inconsistent with the drawing-room over which they preside ?
We make our tables gorgeous, or at all events seemly, with silver,
glass, and china ; wherefore should our wives be less attractive than
all around them ? Amongst the rich and great, the love of dress
promotes some degree of exertion and display of taste in themselves,
and fosters ingenuity and industry in inferiors ; in the middle classes
it engenders contrivance, diliigence, neatness of hand ; among the
humbler it has its good effects. But in thus giving a love of dress
its due, the taste, the consistency, and the practicability of dress are
kept in view ; the devotion to dress which forms, in France, a
u Science apart," and which occupies, it must be allowed, many,
too many, an Englishwoman's head, is not only selfish, but contempti-
ble. So long as dress merely interests, amuses, occupies only such
time as we can reasonably allot to it, it is salutary. It prevents
women from indulging in sentiment ; it is a remedy for maladies
imaginaires ; it somewhat refines the tastes and habits, and gives
satisfaction and pleasure to others.

LUXURY AND EXTRAVAGANCE. 135

Besides, an attention to dress is almost requisite in the present
state of society ; a due influence in which cannot be attained with-
out it. It is useful too, as retaining, even in the minds of sensible
men, that pride in a wife's appearance which is so agreeable to her,
and which materially fades during the gradual decay of personal
attractions. u No one looked better than my wife did to-night, " is
a sentence which one often rejoices to hear from the lips of an honest -
hearted English husband, after a party or a ball, how much soever
we may doubt the soundness of his decision.

But whilst the advantages of a love of dress are admitted, how
mournfully we approach a consideration of its perils. A love of
dress, uncontrolled, stimulated by coquetry and personal vanity until
it cancels every right principle, becomes a temptation first and then
a curse. Not to expatiate upon the evils it produces in the way of
example, the envy an undue passion for and excess of dress excites,
the extortionate class of persons in the shape of milliners and dress-
makers it unduly enriches, and the enormous expenses it is known
to lead to when indulged criminally, that is, to the detriment of
better employments, and beyond the compass of means, let us re-
member how it implies selfishness and vanity, and causes remon-
strances and often reproaches from the person most likely to suffer
from his wife's indulgences — her husband.

Analyze the bill of a fashionable milliner when the dresses, of
which it comprises a fabulous reckoning, are even only half worn
out. What gauzes, and odds and ends of lace, and trimmings, use-
less after a night or two's wear, and flouncings and furbelows and
yards of tulle illusion it enumerates ! Tulle illusion, indeed ! all is
illusion ! and yet for this a husband's income is charged, often at an
inconvenience, or a wife's allowance encumbered, or angry words
engendered, or the family credit impeached ; and, worse than all,
charity and even justice must be suppressed, on account of this claim
from a milliner as remorseless as she is fashionable, for these two
points are generally in the same ratio. Then there is another evil ;

136 LADY'S DUESS.

it lias been found that the indulgence in personal luxury in women
has an injurious effect on the moral tone. It is in some natures the
first symptom, if not the cause, of a relaxation in virtue ; at all
events, it is often mistaken for such. A woman of simple habits,
accompanied with nicety and good taste, rarely goes wrong, at any
rate is rarely supposed to do so. Luxury in dress, at first an indul-
gence, becomes a necessity ; discontent, a sense of humiliation, and
a yearning for what cannot be had, are the effects of that withdrawal
of the power of extravagance which so often happens in this chang-
ing and commercial country.

We used to point to America as the country in which excessive
dress was a reproach ; the rich silks, the foreign lace, the black
satin shoes and the decollete evening dress of the fair inhabitants of
New York, even in Broadway, are themes of comment to us all.
We used to wonder at the French dame du monde, who gives six
hundred pounds for her set of winter sables. Instances are not
wanting, either, in Vienna and Bavaria, of ladies who spend seven
or eight hundred a year on-dress, independent of jewelry. It is re-
marked in Paris, that habits of luxe in every shape, but especially in
dress, have come in with the present regime. The old Legitimist
families, though habitually and innately studious in dress, prided
themselves on their elegant simplicity, as distinguishing them from
bourgeoisie. The Court of Louis Philippe was remarkable for its
homeliness ; and the Queen and the Duchess of Orleans set an exam-
pie of a noble superiority to the vanities of life. Few carriages
were kept, comparatively ; and where ladies cannot have carriages,
they must dress plainly in the streets. But with the marriage of
Louis Napoleon, the Empress has, probably without intending it,
been the originator of extreme richness and variety in dress ; the con-
tamination has spread to England . Never did women require so much.
Every lady, and even every lady's maid, must now have her petti-
coats edged with work. The cost of pocket-handkerchiefs is some-
thing marvellous ; the plain fine cambric, than which nothing is more

ALLOWANCE FOR DRESS. 137

appropriate or more agreeable, is only fit for our inferiors. Cuffs,
collars, jabots, chemisettes, are a genus that half ruin a lady of mod-
erate means. Until lately, flounces went into such extremes that it
required twenty or two-and-twenty yards to make a dress for the
wife of a hard-working physician or lawyer ; but happily the excess
has cured itself. France, in returning to good sense, now decrees
that everything shall be plain. Trimmings, that snare to the un-
wary, out of which dressmakers made fortunes, and husbands lost
them, are put down. How long this salutary change may continue,
no one can tell ; but a woman of sense should be superior to all
these variations. She should keep within the bounds of the fashion.
She should not dress out that perishable piece of clay with money
wrung from the hands of an anxious, laborious husband ; or taken,
if her husband be a man of fortune, from his means of charity.

The proportion of what amongst the great we call pin-money, and
amongst their inferiors an allowance for dress, is a very difficult
matter to decide. Consistency, in regard to station and fortune, is
the first matter to be considered. A lady of rank, the mother of
three beautiful, ill-fated daughters, is reported " to be able to do"
with two thousand a year for dress ! A monstrous sum ; a mon-
strous sin so to spend it ! When we look into the details of a recent
bankruptcy case, in which the items of the famous Miss Jane
Clark's bills for the dresses of two fashionable, and we must add
most blamable, women were exposed, the secret of these enormous
sums for dress is revealed. It consists in reckless orders, and their
results, fabulous prices. A lady once followed the late excellent
Princess Augusta into the rooms of a Court milliner. Having
waited until that illustrious lady had retired, it was time for the
humbler customer to make her selection. She asked the price of a
dress, apologizing therefor, for she was much impressed by the royal
and dignified aspect which had preceded her. "Don't make any
apology, ma'am," was the court milliner's exclamation; " her Royal
Highness never orders an article without asking the price ; and I

138 LADY S DEESS.

i

always like to receive ladies who ask prices; it sliows that they
intend to pay."

The cost therefore of dress depends so much on the prudence as well
as on the discrimination of a lady, for she should know how to choose
her dress, that it is difficult to lay down any rule of expenditure.
For married women of rank, five hundred a year ought to be the
maximum; a hundred a year the minimum (and there are many
peers who cannot easily afford to give their wives even so much.)
The wives of ministers, and more especially of diplomatists, who
require to appear frequently either in foreign courts, or in our own,
may require five hundred, or even more, though I am persuaded
very few of our ambassadorial ladies have so much to spend.

With regard to unmarried women, what a revolt amongst them
there would be if old Lord Eldon were now alive to lay down, as he
did, as a maxim, that forty pounds a year was enough for any girl
not of age, even if she had large expectations ; and that was all he
allotted to a ward of Chancery, who was heiress to five thousand a
year. It was, perhaps, too little. In a trial, in which a celebrated
barrister, who had an extravagant wife, was sued for dressmakers7
bills for his reckless spouse, the judge stated that sixty pounds a
year was an ample allowance for the wife of a professional man,
and beyond that bills could not be recovered. That was essential :
more was extravagance.

Certainly, these legal authorities were moderate in their views ;
especially as no women are so extravagant — none so luxurious, gen-
erally, as the wives of successful barristers.

The Times, whose range and power seem to resemble the elephant's
trunk that can pick up a pin or crush a man, in a late sensible and
amusing "leader," made a remark which will comfort struggling
professional men, and, generally, be thankfully received by all who
need some authority to aid in keeping the milliner's bill within due
bounds. It was simply to the effect that a tasteful, careful lady,
with the start of a moderately good trousseau, ought (and many do)

ALLOWANCE FOE. DIIESS. 139

to make twenty pounds a year suffice for the dress of herself and
children during the first few years of married life, and this without
any compromise of respectability.

Much, however, depends on management, much on the care
taken of dress. In these respects the French are infinitely our su-
periors.

Even the grandes dames of Paris are not intimidated by their maids
into throwing away a half -worn dress ; on the contrary, everything
is turned to account. On entering the apartment of a couturiere one
day, a lady was struck by the elegance of ribbon trimming on a
court-train. The couturiere smiled, and pointed to an old dress
from which the still unsoiled ribbon had been taken. This was to
be the dress, and the lady saw it the next night at the Tuileries,
and knew it at once ; in this the sister of a Due and Marechal of
France, herself a Countess, appeared. We should find it impossible
to get any mantua-maker to perform such an act of virtuous econ-
omy in favor of an English customer. The due care of dress is also
a great point towards a reasonable economy. In England, ladies
think it becoming their dignity to be indifferent to the preservation
of their dresses when on.

In France the reverse is carried to an excess. " I once followed,"
said a lady, " a French lady in her carriage, as we both went to the
same party. Her dress was composed of an exquisite tulle, with
puffings of the same light material. She stood up in her carriage
the whole way, for fear of crushing it."

Whatever may be thought of this over-care of the dress in the
higher classes, the habit of conservativeness is of vast importance
to women in the middle class, and yet, strange to say, it is less com-
mon in them than among the great. Old families are mostly con-
servative of personalities ; it is a remarkable feature in them, and
to it we owe those relics of times long gone by, which, had they been
new in the present day, would have been deemed scarcely worth the
preservation.

140 lady's dress.

But whilst too much cannot be said against extravagance and de-
structiveness, it must also be stated, under the head of the minor
virtues, the wonderful art some people have of making a good ap-
pearance on small means. u A man's appearance," says the good,
old-fashioned, sensible Spectator, "falls within the censure of every-
one that sees him ; his parts and learning very few are judges of. " So
in regard to women. No stranger knows the heart that beats beneath
an ill-made gown, or the qualities of head that lie hidden beneath a
peculiar, old-fashioned, or hideous cap. A woman may be an angel
of goodness, a Minerva in wisdom, a Diana in morals, a Sappho in
sentiment, yet if she wears a soiled dress where all around are in
new and fresh dresses, or has an ill-arranged bonnet or head-dress,
esteem, even affection, will not resist a smile or a sigh ; and the mere
acquaintance will have every right to jeer at what seems to imply an
ignorance of the habits of good society.

Next in injury to her who practises extravagance of dress, is ex-
travagance in fashion. From the middle ages the English ladies
have been bad dressers. Witness Queen Mary when married to
Philip II. of Spain, spoiling the effect of a superb wedding-dress,
in the French style, by wearing a black scarf and scarlet shoes,
which, it has been sarcastically observed, was worse than burning
Protestants. During the last century head -dresses rose to a stupen-
dous height, each lady carrying on her head a tower composed of a
cushion, on which the hair was drawn back, and clubbed or rolled on
the top of the neck. On this fabric were arranged feathers, flowers,
pearls dangling in loops, ribbons and old point lace. Sometimes a
tiny mob-cap was stuck on one side ; the whole was so immense
that even the huge family coaches were too small, and the ladies
usually sat with their heads hanging out of the window of the car-
riage. Powder was a main ingredient, and hair-dressing was indeed
a science. On great occasions the hair-dresser waited on our fair
ancestresses betimes ; belabored their tresses with the powder-puff,
and, with what looked like the end of a candle, a pomatum-stick,

EXTRAVAGANCE IN FASIIIOX. 141

until no trace of nature could peep out to mar the belle. Then he
placed the cushion, sticking it on with long pins of wire ; "next he
stuck here and there the bows or feathers, or flowers. After an
hour's torture, in which neither back must be bent, nor head moved,
he left her, not to repose, but to sit as if in a vice until the patches
or mouches were stuck on skilfully ; the tight corsets drawn to an
agony point ; the pointed and heeled shoes put on over the well-
pricked silk stocking ; and the dress that could have stood alone,
composed over a fortification of strong whale-bone that sprung out
a great circumference, being a series of bands, regulated by a spring
and constituting that great feature of full dress — the hoop.

In Paris, there was a champion of low heads in the person of a
Swiss, who, not being able to see oyer these turrets of head at the
grancle opera, used to cut away, as one does at evergreens, right
and left, in order to clear away the view. At last, the ladies, in
dismay, and alarmed at his scissors, gave him up a front place ; but,
eventually, the ridicule thus cast on the mode banished it, or helped
to do so, and a less absurd coiffure came into vogue.

The art of placing patches on the face and neck was of earlier
origin, and came in during the reign of Charles II. It was of
French origin ; and Henrietta of Orleans, the sister of the King,
was amongst the first to display mouches or patches at court. This
time even Mrs. Pepys was permitted by her husband to wear them ;
and the vanity of the ci-devant tailor spoke forcibly in these words :
uThe Princess Henrietta is very pretty; but my wife, standing
near her, with two or three black patches on, and well dressed, still
seems to me much handsomer than she. " Patches long held their
reign; and went out only with rouge, having even survived the
reign of powder.

At length a more natural taste dawned in England ; but it was re-
served for Mrs. Siddons first to appear on the stage without powder,
and her own rich dark hair arranged in massive tresses on her fine
head.

142 ' LADY S DKESS.

Towards the beginning of the present century came in the ex-
tremes of tight dresses and short waists. The skirts of dresses
were made as scanty as possible, and gored, that is, made much
wider at the base than at the top. There was an inch of sleeve,
and two inches of boddice. It was impossible not to be indelicate,
unless you put on what was called a " modesty-piece," or tucker,
formed of lace or worked muslin ; even then the requisite propriety
was almost unattainable. As to the hair, that was drawn up to the
top of the head, and two or three curls worn in front, just above
the eyebrows. Since hoops had been outrageous, and head-dresses
had obstructed the view of Her Majesty's liege subjects, society
thus revenged herself. Politics, too, at that time influenced fash-
ion. Then came the Brutus crop, in which style many of our fair
ancestresses are depicted; this was in compliment to the Roman
heroism of the First Consul, Bonaparte, and was caught up in Eng-
land. Small Leghorn hats, like men's hats, were all the vogue, and
were in their turn displaced for high-crowned bonnets with an inch
or two of poke, which yielded, in due course, to the cottage -bonnet,
or capite.

The hair at this time was getting higher and higher, until, about
twenty years ago, it reached the giraffe — a bow of hair, or two, or
even#three bows raised on triangular pins made on purpose, and
fastened skilfully into the hair ; over this rose the bow called--in
compliment to the first appearance of two giraffes in this country —
the giraffe bows. Their reign was short, and the hair sank down
to the very extreme, and ringlets, which reached the very waist,
and plaits low down in the neck behind, succeeded. There was a
transient reign of the Oldenburg bonnet, introduced by the beauti-
ful Duchess of Oldenburg when she visited this country in 1818.
This bonnet was nothing more or less than a coal-scuttle in straw,
and turned up round the rim ; it was tremendously warm to wear ;
and caricatures were drawn at the time showing a gentleman's diffi-
culty in making love to his inamorata, whose face was inclosed in

CHANGES OF FASHION. 143

the Oldenburg bonnet. The effect of a number of these bonnets
collected in a small space was ludicrous. A very pretty simple cot-
tage, after all the best style, succeeded the Oldenburg-. About 1821
the gored skirts gave place to those slightly gathered, or plaited
round the figure. There was a perfect revolt against this fashion ;
many elegant women heading the malcontents. Happily they were
obliged to yield, and the loose and full flowing dresses came into
fashion, and kept their place, after a disgraceful interregnum of
very short petticoats, only not showing the knees ; which extreme,
it is believed, induced the adoption of full and long skirts.

With occasional deviations, the form of the dress has not very
greatly varied since the grand revolution which discarded gores, un-
til that counter- agitation which brought in crinolines. This inno-
vation is well exemplified by merely recalling the degeneracy in cos-
tume of the Imperial arbitress of fashion who introduced it. At
one of the Tuileries balls in 1852, a young Spanish lady was the
theme of all tongues. She was dressed in white, with a beautiful
circlet of black velvet on her head ; on this circlet were stars of dia-
monds. The hair, blond doree ; the brow, alabaster; the somewhat
melancholy eyes, with their long lashes, the regular but rather rigid
pupil, were justly admired. Mademoiselle de Montijo, as she then
was, was sparkling with happiness ; the Emperor, that general who
has since well-nigh dethroned Austria, yet spared Venice, had that
night signified his intention of making Eugenie de Montijo Empress
of France, by placing on her head a white flower ; she was radiant
with excitement.

Her figure, however, was the subject of all praise. It was slight,
and perfectly well dressed. The dress was tight in the corsage, and
full, moderately full, in the skirt. Since then, what a change ! That
small, but matchless form, far more remarkable for grace than for
dignity, comes forth encumbered, unnaturally enlarged, and indeed
deformed with an excess of fulness which can only be supported
foy a device which in principle is the grandchild of the hoop. As

144 lady's dress.

she walks, the petticoats shake about, and the artifice underneath
is revealed. The Empress is there, but the beautiful toumure of
Eugenie de Montijo is lost in the mass of bouffons and flounces
over the invisible though protruding crinoline. The infatuation
has spread from the palace to the private house ; thence even to
the cottage. Your lady's maid must now needs have her crinoline,
and it has even become an essential to factory girls. The smart
young needlewoman has long thought that neither she, nor any one
else, could appear without it.

That there are some advantages in this modern fashion cannot
be denied. On State occasions it gives importance, shows off a
dress, and preserves it from trailing on the floor. For walking, it
has the recommendation of keeping the dresses out of the dirt ;
which may to some extent compensate for the very unpleasant and
visible effect of "carrying one's tails behind one," since the skirt
often shakes about as if there was a balloon around the person.
Otherwise, the crinoline is unnatural — as some wear it, indelicate —
and cumbersome, and gives an appearance of width below that is
perfectly frightful. Now, however, the excess seems abating. As
if to make the contrast greater, those who so expand below do not
hesitate, in many instances, to contract above, by tight lacing; but
this also is a custom uhat has very much decreased of late years.
Formerly, instances were frequently known of young ladies nearly
perishing under the self-imposed torture of what may not be inaptly
called the waist-screw. A physician, at dinner one day with his
family, was summoned by knocks and rings to a house in the same
street, where there had been a dinner party. The ladies had just re-
tired to the drawing-room, when, suddenly, the youngest and fairest
of them fell fainting back into her chair. Restoratives were ap-
plied, but consciousness did not return. The physician came ; he
was an aged and practical man, well versed in every variety of fe-
male folly. He took out his penknife ; the company around thought
he was going to bleed the still unconscious patient. "Ha, this is

CRINOLINE. 145

tight lacing ! " he suddenly said ; and adding, ' ' no time to be lost,"
he cut open the boddice of the dress ; it opened, and, with a gush,
gave the poor young lady breath ; the heart had been compressed
by tight lacing, and had nearly ceased to act. In another moment
it would have been too late ; the action of the heart would have
ceased altogether.

It has been found, also, that the liver, the lungs, the powers of
the stomach, have been brought into a diseased state by this most
pernicious habit. Loss of bloom, fixed redness in the nose, eruptions
on the skin, are among its sad effects. If prolonged, there is no
knowing to what malady tight lacing may not tend ; its most appar-
ent effect is an injured digestion, and consequent loss of appetite.
Of this, however, it is often difficult to convince the practised tight-
lacer ; for vanity is generally obstinate.

No girl should wear bones or steels until she has done growing.
Until then a boddice, close-fitting, but not tight, or even a mere
flannel waistcoat, is all that should be allowed, if a mother wishes
to avoid seeing her child with a curved spine. During the reign of
tight lacing, and of stays so stiff, that when spread, out they re-
sembled a board in texture, seven women in ten were crooked.
Whole families leaned on one side or the other. ' ' You are no worse
than your neighbors," was the common expression of any surgeon
called in to' attend in a case of curvature of the spine. That is not
the case now, to nearly such an extent.

But looking at tight lacing without consideration of its effect on
health, and merely as its tendency to improve or to injure the ap-
pearance, nothing can be more absurd than to believe that it is ad-
vantageous to the figure. A very small waist is rather a deformity
than a beauty. To see the shoulders cramped and squeezed together,
is anything but agreeable ; the figure should be easy, well developed,
supple : if Nature has not made the waist small, compression cannot
mend her work. Dress may do much to lessen the awkward appear-
ance of a thick waist by clever adaptations ; by the use of stays
10

146 lady's dress.

both, easy and well fitting ; by a little extra trimming on the shoul-
ders, which naturally makes the waist appear smaller. All this may
be done without injury ; no stays can answer the purpose so well as
those made by a good French stay -maker, who has the art of taking
a sort of model *of the figure by the extreme exactness of her meas-
urements. The stays are made single, and therefore fit better than
double ones ; they give with every movement. Those lately intro-
duced, which fasten at once, are not so advantageous to the figure
as the old-fashioned plan of lacing behind, but are admirable in
point of convenience and despatch. By their aid, elderly ladies who
have not dressed themselves, but have been dressed by a maid for
years, have become independent ; a great benefit to health and de-
spatch. The slight exertion of dressing one's self, the gentle exer-
cise it induces after repose, the excellent habit of order, and the
necessity it imposes of throwing off the thoughts, that may perhaps
too much have occupied the mind during the hours of a wakeful
night, render the operation of dressing to those in fair health a very
salutary exertion.

It is often disputed how far ladies are justified in following the
fashion of the day ; how far they could be praised or blamed for
conforming or for resisting the influences around them in that re-
spect. To adopt the prevailing fashion, but not carry it to excess,
seems the most rational line of conduct ; none but a great beauty,
or a person of any exalted rank, can deviate, and hope to escape
ridicule, from what fashion has introduced. Even in the acknowl-
edged beauty there is a presumption in doing so. Yet there were
during the last reign three lively sisters ? all now ennobled by marri-
age, who, at Court, when all were crowned with plumes, then worn
like a crest on the head, nine or twelve in number, went to the
drawing-rooms with a small feather on either side, and without
diamonds : it was a courageous feat, but the effect was good, and
produced, some thought, the reduction of plumes at Court.

A reasonable and tasteful acquiescence in the rapid changes — if

HOW FAR FASHION MAY BE FOLLOWED. 147

not too rapid — in the modes of dress, is sensible and convenient.
No single individual can successfully oppose the stream of fashion.
Everything- that is peculiar in dress is, we are convinced, more or
less objectionable. Dr. Johnson was praising a lady for being very
well dressed. "I am sure she was well dressed," he reiterated,
"for I cannot remember what she had on." Now, had not the
lady's dress been modern in the fashion, he would have been struck
with some anomaly, some peculiarity, in form or colors. The gen-
eral effect was admirable ; what more could be wished ? details are
important to the dressmaker and to the tailor : it is effect that tells
on society. Too much importance cannot be assigned to the har-
mony of colors. No nation in this respect offends so greatly as the
English : they mistake gaudiness for effect, or dowdiness for ele-
gance. When full colors are in fashion, a lady, however well
dressed, will look ill if she adheres to the delicate pinks and almost
invisible blues which prevailed some years since, lovely as those
pure and soft shades are. She will, however, require an artist's eye
to combine the more glowing shades skilfully, in order to escape
being the parroquet of the company. A certain duchess, noted for
the magnificence in which her stately person is arrayed — so stately
is' it as to bear down even royalty itself in queenly dignity — is so
aware of the importance of combining colors well, that one of her
femmes de chambre is a " combination maid," selected on account of
her judgment in colors ; thus, every toilette for the day or night is
submitted by her ; the shawl is affronted with the gown ; the bon-
net is made to suit with both. The wreath of flowers is to be in
keeping with the rich boddice, the boddice with the sweeping
train ; the rich jewelry, taken from a casket almost unparalleled
among the subjects of any country, must not eclipse, but heighten
the tints of the dress : the whole is placed for inspection, as an
artist dresses up a lay figure ; and the repute of the combination
maid is staked on the result. White was that gorgeous lady's
favorite attire; whits, scarce purer than the face, " 0 call ifc pale,

148 LADY'S DRESS.

not fair ; " white, which. " combines " with every hue, ornament, or
flowers : but the loveliness may now have fled before the approach
of time, and rich colors have been selected as the appropriate tints
for that middle age which is so beautiful in English women, and in
English women alone.

After these general remarks, let us come to particulars, and con-
sider what, in modern days, are the different dresses appropriate to
every different occasion in the higher and middle classes of life.
It is true that the distinction between these is, in many respects,
nullified ; that the wife of the merchant dresses much in the same
way on ordinary occasions as the peeress : still there are neverthe-
less distinctions.

The peeress, or the baronet's lady, or the wife of a minister, or of
an opulent M. P. , or of a very wealthy commoner, should, when she
appears dressed for the morning, be richly dressed. Silk, or, if in
winter, some material trimmed with silk or velvet, should compose
her dress. All that family of half -worsted and half -silk dresses,
convenient for ladies who walk much, are unsuitable to matrons of
rank and fortune. Let them leave them to their housekeepers (if
their housekeepers will wear them). Rich dark silks, perfectly well
fitting, ample in skirt and length, with a moderate bastion of crino-
line underneath, suit the woman of rank. The basque, introduced
by the Empress Eugenie, and now gone out of fashion, was pecu-
liarly elegant in morning dress : it marksd so completely the differ-
ence between the morning and evening costume ; it is becoming to
most figures ; it is convenient for those who like to fasten their own
dresses. It is, however, discontinued, and a far less elegant form
of dress adopted. The morning dress of the present day is worn
close up to the throat and the sleeves are loose and large ; so that
underneath them, sleeves, richly worked, or trimmed with lace,
may be seen hanging down, or fastened round the wrist with a
bracelet. The fashion of these morning dresses varies continually ;
but, as a general principle, they should be, for a person moderately

MORNING DRESS. 149

embonpoint, made to fit and show off the figure perfectly. The ac-
companiments of sleeves, collars, should be of the most delicate
and richest work ; the lace choice ; the lady of rank must remember
that imitations of lace are not suitable to those who can encourage
art and industry ; a lady must also be Men cliaussee. If stockings
are visible, they should be of the finest silk or thread ; the shoe
well made, slight, and somewhat trimmed ; the fashion of wearing
gloves indoors, or even mittens, has much died away lately. The
hand, if exposed, should be habitually well taken care of. Nothing
is so unladylike as a hand that is either rough, or has become sun-
burnt, in which case gloves should be used. Too many rings are
vulgar. Those worn in the morning should be of a solid kind, not
pearls or diamonds, which appertain to full dress; but enamel,
plain gold, opal, perhaps sapphire, carbuncle, may not be inconsist-
ent with morning dress, and the same observation may be applied
to the brooch.

There is another style of morning dress which is elegant, that of
the peignoir, a loose robe, which admits of great richness of texture ;
it may be of Cashmere or of fine Merino ; it may be made out of a
shawl ; of anything but silk, which is more appropriate to gowns ;
but this dress is scarcely suitable to any but the early morning hours,
and ceases to be consistent in the gay afternoons of a London life,
when the drawing-room is filled with callers.

The morning coiffure, be it a cap, or be it the dressing of the hair,
should be simple, compact, neat. The hair, when dressed, should be
becomingly but somewha.t massively disposed. When it is rich and
full, a very slight head-dress of Mechlin or Lisle lace, for married
women, at the back of the head, is becoming ; when thin and weak,
a cap should be worn with ribbon coming down in front. Nothing
looks so bad as thin hair, underneath which the head is discernible
in the day-time. Every ornament on the head is in bad taste in the
morning ; one views with horror huge gold pins, or would-be gold,
corresponding to ear-rings of the same false description. The peril

150 LADY S DBESS.

of being induced to wear ornaments so meretricious, is, however,
more to be dreaded in that class of society below the peeress's rank,
with which it is particularly inconsistent. The French ladies are
models of dress when they hold their morning receptions. Every-
thing they wear is the best of its kind. The few ornaments they
permit themselves are more elaborate and valuable than dazzling,
everything announcing, as plainly as if it had been written on their
doors, that they are in demie toilette. The perfect agreement of
then' dress with the hour and the occasion is the secret of its almost
invariable success.

The same rules apply to walking dress, which should be quiet
in color, simple, substantial, and, above all, founded on the science
of combination. To see a bonnet adorned with crimson flowers,
worn with a bright lilac dress ; green with scarlet, blue with plum,
are sad departures from the rules of combination. In a town, even
when, according to the time of the day, or time of the year, a walk-
ing dress should be simple, there should still be some degree of
richness in the dress.

The very dowdy and common-looking style of dress should be
avoided ; there should always be visible, through every change, the
lady. Some of our Jadies of rank, it must be allowed, though main-
taining well the characteristics of grandes dames in society, are neg-
ligent in their walking dress, and seem to consider that it is only
necessary to put on their dignity when they dress^for dinner.

For the country, the attire should be tasteful and solid and strong.
The bonnet may still, though plain, and perhaps of straw or whale-
bone, be becoming. The hat, now so prevalently used, admits of
some decoration, that gives both character and elegance. Worn al-
most universally on the Continent for summer, and now in England,
it is the most sensible as well as the most picturesque covering for
the head ; long feathers, even in the most tranquil scenes, are not
inappropriate. Cloaks, of a light material for summer, and stout in
the winter, are more elegant and suitable than shawls, which belong

FULL DINNER DRESS. 151

rather to the carriage or visiting dress. One point of dress has
been much amended lately, owing to the good sense of our Queen.
It was formerly thought ungenteel to wear anything but thin
Morocco shoes, or very slight boots in walking. Clogs and goloshes
were necessarily resorted to. " The genteel disease," as Mackenzie
calls it, has, however, yielded to the remedies of example. Victoria
has assumed the Balmoral petticoat, than which, for health, comfort,
warmth, and effect, no invention was ever better. She has cour-
ageously accompanied it with the Balmoral boot, and even with the
mohair and colored stocking. With these, and the warm cloak, the
looped dresses, the shady hat, and to complete a country walking
dress, soft gloves of the kind termed gants de siecle, the high-born
lady may enjoy privileges which her inferiors possess — she may take
a good walk with pleasure and safety, and not shiver at the aspect
of a muddy lane.

Next, in the description of a lady's dress, comes the carriage, or
visiting dress. This should be exceedingly handsome ; gayer in color,
richer in texture than the morning dress at home. The bonnet may
either be as simple as possible, or as rich ; but it must not encroach
upon that to be worn at a fete, a flower-show, or a morning- concert.
It must still be what the French call " un chapeau de fatigue.'''' A
really good shawl, or a mantle trimmed with lace, are the concomi-
tants of the carriage, or a visiting dress in winter. In summer all
should be light, cool, agreeable to think of, pleasant to look at.
Nothing can be in worse taste than to keep on, till it makes one fe-
verish to look at it, the warm clothing of winter after winter and
even spring have passed away. Then light scarfs, of which those
worn in muslin are very elegant, delicate muslins, slight silks, and
grenadines, are infinitely more suitable, although they are less ex-
pensive, to summer and its bright hours than the heavy artillery of
cashmeres and velvets, be they ever so handsome.

The ordinary evening costume at home admits of great taste and
becomingness. In some great houses it differs little from that as-

152 lady's deess.

sumed at large dinner-parties, except that ornaments are less worn.
In France, the high- dress is still worn at dinners, even those of full
dress. In England, that custom, often introduced, never becomes
general; there is no doubt but that a low dress is by far the most
becoming, according to age, complexion, and the style of the house
— a point always to be taken into consideration. Yet I should re-
strict this to dinners by candle-light. In summer a thin high dress,
at any rate, is more convenient and more modest. Since there is some-
thing in exposing the bare shoulders and arms to the glare of day,
that startles an observer, the demie toilette of the French may here
be well applied. The hair should now be fully dressed, and with
care ; flowers may be worn by the young ; caps with flowers by the
elder; ornaments, especially bracelets, are not inconsistent; the
dress should be of a texture that can bear inspection, not flimsy
and inexpensive, but good, though not heavy. The same rules may
be applied to the ordinary costume in an evening at home, except
that the texture may be lighter. For all these occasions a lady of
rank and fortune should have her separate dresses. She should not
wear out her old ball or dinner dresses by her fireside and in intimate
circles. They always have a tawdry, miserable look. She should
furnish herself with a good provision for the demie toilette. Nothing
is so vulgar as finery out of place.

The full dinner-dress, in England, admits, and indeed, in the pres-
ent days of luxury, demands, great splendor. The dress may be
blue, silver-gray, crimson, maize, lavender, or (but rare) very pale
green ; pink is suitable alone to balls ; it may be of any thick tex-
ture of silk in vogue ; but in the fashion it must be. The dinner
dresses that last for ever are detestable. Trimmings of Brussels
lace, or of Mechlin, or of Maltese, are preferable to blonde or tulle,
which are for balls and soirees. The dress should be made in the
newest fashion ; therefore no rule can be set down, except that for*
state dinners it should be long, and fresh, and sweeping. At large
dinners, diamonds may be worn, but only in a brooch, or pendant

FULL DINNER DRESS. 153

from the throat ; a full suite of diamonds is suitable to very full
dress alone. The same rule applies to emeralds, but not to pearls.
Rows of pearls, confined by a diamond snap, are beautiful in every
dress. They suit either the demie toilette, or the stately solemn din-
ner. If flowers be worn, they should be of the very choicest ; ladies
have so much time to examine and to criticise after dinner, that too
much care of minutias cannot be taken ; if but a rose, it should be
from the very first hand. The fan, to be consistent, should also be
first-rate ; it may be old, and painted after the manner of the ex-
quisite fans in France, for which one pays as high as twenty pounds ;
or it may be a mere invention of the day ; but it must be perfect in
its way. Nothing is so inimical to appearance as an ill-made or
soiled glove. There is such a wonderful mixture of economy and
prodigality in the highest classes of English society, that it is not
uncommon to see ladies, resplendent in jewelry, with dirty gloves :
in France, to which we have, in all ages, looked as to a model, such
a barbarism could never occur. Every trifle in a lady's costume is
perfect. She would rather go out in a shabby gown than in a collar
of false lace, or with dirty gloves, or begrimed white satin shoes.
It is not so in England ; ladies who spend pounds upon a cap or a
scarf will hesitate before they put on a clean pair of gloves. Din-
ner-parties are so often the prelude only, in London, to the festivi-
ties of the evening, that no strict rules as to dress can be set down.
Generally speaking, there is a great difference between the dinner-
dress and that of the ball. A concert, on the other hand, or the
opera, requires only the head to be somewhat more adorned than at
a dinner, and yet there was a fashion, several years since, of appear-
ing even at the Italian opera in the simple toilette of a small dinner
party. The sortie du bal, or short evening cloak, is one of the best
modern suggestions for the health, and even appearance, of those
who attend public places or enter into gay society. It should be of
white merino, not of scarlet, which spoils the effect of the wreath of
flowers. All complicated trimmings are inconsistent ; but the same

154: lady's dress.

rule of perfect freshness and cleanliness in respect to gloves is appli-
cable to the sortie du bal. I am sorry to say it is violated every
night : rows of ladies are to be seen with resplendent gems in their
hair, waiting for their carriages, in swties du bal that are almost gray
from the effects of London smoke. The striking relief and the con-
trast produced by one or two clean and fresh cloaks of this descrip-
tion is quite singular, and proves the truth of the above recommenda-
tion. And here let us marvel against the wonderful misplaced econ-
omy that will not permit an English lady to indulge in a new sortie
du bed " this season,7' whilst she is, at the same time, lavishing sums
upon all the endless et ceteras which Englishwomen of the nineteenth
century cannot do without.

At one of the most brilliant balls at the Hotel de Ville in Paris,
an order was given for the company, who were to be numbered on
that occasion by thousands, to wait in relays on the grand staircase
leading to the reception rooms, until a certain hour of the night or
rather morning. This order was to prevent a rush to the carriages,
and the danger incident to such a concourse wishing to leave at the
same time. The ladies sat for an hour or more on that ample and
matchless staircase, to the right of which was the artificial pool of
waber, surrounded by plants, and lighted by lamps, amid which the
spray of a fountain cast up crystal drops, which fell dimpling into
the water again. The light played upon the white cup of a large
water-lily in the miniature pool, and the scene was at once remarka-
ble and brilliant. As I looked around from the bottom of the stairs,
and about, I could see many pale and weary faces, but not one dirty
sortie du bal; all here as fresh, as clear, as snowy white as if new
only that day ; some lined with cherry color ; others with blue ; a
few with amber ; most with white. Even after all the festivities
were over, a Frenchwoman, if she could not look well, was resolved
to look clean.

Ball-dressing requires less art than the nice gradations of costume
in the dinner costume, and small evening party dress. For a ball,

BALL DRESSING. 155

everything even in married women may be light, somewhat fanciful
and airy. What are called good dresses seldom look well. The
heavy, richly-trimmed silk is only appropriate to those who do not
dance ; even for such, as much effect should be given to those
dresses as can be devised. Taste, ingenuity, style, are here most
requisite. Since the fashions continually alter, there is no possi-
bility of laying down specific rules ; the dress, however, for the
married, and for the unmarried lady of rank or of fortune, should
be distinctly marked. For the married lady, moire dresses, either
trimmed with lace, or tulle and flowers, or white silk — no other
color in plain silk looks well — or thin dresses over white satin^ an
article which is happily coming into fashion again, are more suitable.
Diamonds on the. head,, neck, arms, she may wear ; but the decora-
tion of the dress with them should be reserved for court-balls, and
for court. * Formerly, when diamonds were worn, flowers were either
considered unnecessary, or even inconsistent; now they are fre-.
quently intermingled. Small feathers are even worn at balls;
and, for the married, produce perhaps more effect than any other
coiffure; but they are wholly out of fashion on a young lady's
head. The unmarried, indeed, so long as they continue young, will
best consult their own good looks by as much simplicity as is consist-
ent with fashion. In Paris no ornaments, with the exception, per-
haps, of a single bracelet, are allowed to the jeune fille ; her dress
must be white; the flowers in her hair white also. To these
general rules there are exceptions, but the appearance of a French
ball is that of spotless white ; far different to the full colors often
worn in England.

White tulle over white silk (or white lace), and bouquets of flow-
ers, corresponding to the guirlande or cachepenie on the head, are
the favorite dress of the young lady. A parure of flowers, consist-
ing of two flowers mingled, is elegant ; for instance, the rose and
heliotrope, the parure forming the wreath which extends down the
skirt; or, of white flowers, the acacia, — of blue, the myosotis, — of

156 lady's dkess.

green, the maidenhair fern; these are all exquisite ornaments.
Even the large white lily forms a beautiful parure. The French
always make use of the flowers in season, but we English are less
scrupulous. A young lady will wear a wreath of lilies of the valley
mixed with roses in the depth of the winter ; holly and berries in
June ; scarlet geraniums in spring. Large daisies are also liable to
suggest ludicrous ideas. " That lady's dress wants mowing," said
a wag, looking at a beautiful tulle dress, covered with white daisies
with flaring yellow centres.

Nothing, however, forms a more beautiful head-dress than natu-
ral flowers, carefully mounted. The French have a great art of
mounting flowers on wire, and many of their ladies' -maids learn it;
some of the ladies excel in it themselves. For country balls and
fetes, the effect is lovely; and the perpetual variety obtained a
source of that surprise and novelty which add so much to the effect
produced by dress. The flowers should be neatly and firmly stuck
upon wires. Variegated geraniums, and all the white varieties only,
answer well; white camelias (the red are too heavy), particolored
carnations, the rose Devoniensis, large white lilies, are all suitable
to hairs of various shades. A parure of ivy is elegant — but it has
become common ; in spring, the scarlet ranunculus has a rich effect ;
in winter, the hellebore or Christmas rose is very appropriate.
There is one of the carnival balls at Munich, in which the custom of
wearing natural flowers is almost des rigueurs ; it is on ShroVe-
Tuesday. Since in that severe climate it is difficult to obtain natu-
ral flowers in perfection, the wreaths are ordered in Paris, and are
articles of great expense. On seeing them beside even the most
exquisite artificial wreaths, the effect is striking ; every tint in the
latter has a want of that transparency which, in the natural flowers,
is owing to the minute and almost invisible globules of water in the
petals beneath the cuticle. The richest hues pall before the inimit-
able coloring of nature. Amongst the garnitures on one occasion,
that of the Queen of Bavaria was pre-eminently beautiful She

THE RIDING DRESS. 157

wore on her head a wreath of natural roses ; in the centre of each
rose hung* a diamond dew-drop. Her dress was white, trimmed
down on either side with single roses, encircled with a single row of
diamonds each, as if the dew hung round the petals ; in the centre
was the diamond dewdrop. This beloved and beautiful princess,
now, by marriage, the first cousin of the Princess Royal of England,
always superintends the arrangements of her own ball-dresses ; her
taste is exquisite, and the ingenuity with which she varies her cos-
tumes is remarkable.

As ladies advance in life, the ball-room seems scarcely to be their
province ; but since many of them are obliged to be chaperons, the
style of dress most becoming personally, and also most consistent
with that character, should be considered. Many persons think that
it little matters what a middle-aged lady wears, so long as she looks
neat and respectable, and displays a sufficient amount of expensive
lace, diamonds, and so many ells of unexceptionable silk or
satin.

I am not of that opinion ; as long as a face is a face fit to present
itself to society, so long should good taste carefully preserve the
fast-fading attractions, not by art and cosmetics, or false curls, or
roses round a sallow brow, or the lilies of the field, which are ap-
propriate to youth alone, but by an arrangement of cap or head-dress
that is becoming to the poor old rains ; just as we like to see the
mantling ivy clustering, and say how greatly it adds to the beauty
of the old devastated fort or chapel.

Having thus treated of the dresses suited to the house, and to
f estive»occasions, there remains only the riding dress to mention.

In this particular several charsges have been made during* the last
two or three years. The round hat, of masculine appearance, is
almost always exchanged for a slouched hat, sometimes of a round
form, and turned up round the brim — sometimes turned up on
either side, and coming with a point low down upon the forehead —
and sometimes three-cornered : all these different forms have their

158 LADY S DRESS.

votaries ; but it must be acknowledged that the more simple and
modest the shape, the more becoming.

Formerly, the neat round hat, masculine in its form, was unem-
bellished by even a bow ; but now, a long, sweeping feather on one,
and sometimes on both sides, sets off the riding-hat. The color of
the feather is varied, but is usually black or brown, like the hat.
The feather, it may here be remarked, should be full, well-curled,
long and firm, not thin and weak, as if taken from an ostrich in a
moulting condition. In winter, the hat should be of felt of a soft
kind, pliable and durable ; in summer of a fine straw. It is not
wise to get a hat made by an inferior hand. The style constitutes
the grace, and renders it either a most becoming or a most tawdry
feature in the riding-dress. And here let us remark on the great
benefit of these slouching hats to the complexions which have so
materially suffered of late years from small bonnets and round hats.
Health, with delicacy, is the true charm of feminine physique, and
as far as a riding costume is concerned, nothing secures the fresh-
ness of the face better than a slouched hat. It is cool, and permits
the free circulation of air around the face, while it protects the eyes,
the forehead, and almost the chin, from scorching heat or withering
blasts.

Finally, as far as regards hats, let a hint be thrown out repress-
ing the eccentricities of a fantastic taste : The art of riding is in
itself conspicuous enough. A lady decked out in that position ap-
proaches the mountebank rider from Astley's or Franconi's. Her
costume may be elegant on all occasions without being outre. The
moment her taste degenerates so as to produce a striking effect, she
may be sure she is making a mistake, and nowhere so fatally as on
horseback.

We must acknowledge that the change in riding-hats has another
gooQ. effect. The lady equestrian cannot now be called masculine.
4 ' Bist ein Mann oder eine Madschen ? " cried out a number of little
Rhenish boys as a young lady galloped through a village near Dlis-

KIDTNG-DRESS. 159

seldorf . The Spectator has a sharp article on the ambiguous ap-
pearances of these Amazons, as he styles them ; and in fact in the
last century, when scarlet riding-habits were often worn, it must
have been difficult on the riding-field to have distinguished a lady
from a gentleman ; but now there is something picturesque, stylish,
and inconsistent in the modern slouching hat, the sweeping feather,
and beneath them the rich clusters of hair bagged, and so confined in
a net of black chenille:

The habit has sustained some changes, and, as far as appearance
is concerned, not for the better. It used to be invariably tight,
well-shaped, with close sleeves. It is now often made loose, with
deep cuffs, or, if worn tight, a loose jacket, or cosaque, can be put
over it — an advantage in cold weather, but certainly not to the figure,
which is never seen to more advantage, be it bad or good, than in a
tight body, such as the old riding-habit. A plain white collar of
fine lawn should be worn with the habit, deep lawn cuffs underneath
the sleeves, while gauntlet gloves of thick leather, and no orna-
ments, save perhaps a delicately-twined whip, need be displayed.
Compactness and utility are the requisites for the riding-dress ; and,
whilst touching on this point, let us impress strongly the danger
arising from too long a skirt in the riding-habit : it is apt not only
to alarm horses, but to entangle, in case of accidents, their fair
riders.

There, as in other cases, the principle of all that relates to dress
should be consistency and suitableness. If these are once lost sight
of — if fifty apes fifteen — if the countess dresses worse than her own
housekeeper, or the maid vies with her mistress — if modest middle
rank puts on the garb of fashion — if good taste and good sense cease
to be the foundation of the important whole, then all special direc-
tions will be unavailing.

160 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

CHAPTER V.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

Lord Byron in one of his letters tells us that he might have
been a beau, if he had chosen to drink deep and gamble fast enough.
In Ben Jonson's time the main points of a'! compleat gentleman "
were to swear a new oath in every sentence, uBy the foot of
Pharaoh," uAs I am a gentleman and a soldier," and so forth; to
take tobacco, and swear over its virtues ; to be able to run friend or
foe through the heart with a bodkin ; and to write a copy of silly
verses to a by no means inaccessible mistress. Beau Brummell had
only three pet points : the way he took snuff, opening the box with
one hand, the ease with which he cut an old acquaintance, and the
grace with which he bowed to a new one. Lord Chesterfield seems
to think that if a man can ride, fence, and dance well, he is skilled
enough for good society. The three requirements are worth notic-
ing. The first was essential, if you would have male friends, in
days when knighthood was not quite a shadow ; the second allowed
you to make good enemies, and kill or keep them ; the third fitted
you for the society of women.

The accomplishments of to-day, though they differ in many
respects, have the same general bearing. In a man they are the
arts required to keep a friend, to make an enemy, and to charm a
woman ; in a woman, to surpass a rival and to captivate a man of
more taste than heart. For both, however, they have a far higher
object — that, namely, of giving pleasure to our fellow-creatures in
some form or other, and of increasing the general harmony of society.
They are in fact those corollaries to the problem of education, by
which a person is fitted not only to "pass," but to " take honors"
in the social examination. While it is impossible to deny that a man
may be a perfect gentleman, a woman a well-bred lady, and both of

i

THEIR REAL VALUE. 161

them agreeable in society, without a single accomplishment, we all
of us feel that such a person must either possess no usual wit, like
Dr. Johnson, who had not one accomplishment to add to his sound
sense and learning, or be one who, content to fill a quiet corner in
life, does not care to emerge from it even for the benefit of others.

Accomplishments have a heavy run against them in the present
day, and are decidedly at a discount. " Give me," cries Paterfami-
lias, bringing his fist with a heavy thump down on the table, "give
me good sterling practical knowledge, and none of your pishty-
wishty humbugging accomplishments." Paterfamilias, you err, like
many a British father, and in your love of the practical, you are
blind to the immense advantage of cultivating the beautiful in every
young soul. Paterfamilias, to take the most serious ground with
you, it is the practical which shall lead you to money bags and
account books, but the beautiful which shall guide you towards
heaven. These same accomplishments at which you sneer have a
much deeper meaning and value for your children than merely to
shine in society. They constitute the Whole amateurship of art,
and in the present day to be thoroughly accomplished is to be half
an artist ; yet the better half. You may not be able to give a con-
cert in Hanover Square Rooms, but you have cultivated the music
that lies within your soul. And there is music in every soul, and
music is the most beautiful expression of peace and harmony ; and
harmony is the most beautiful law of nature, of creation, the first
rule of God. You may not be able to exhibit a picture in the Royal
Academy, but you have learned to copy God's work, and learning to
copy you have learned to observe and to know ; and to know God's
work is to know God in His work. Believe me, Paterfamilias, the
study of art rightly undertaken is the study of God, and it is by
cultivating the beautiful that you approach heaven.

I do not say that every man can be a Crichton, but I do say that
every man should aim at that character in some way, both for his
own sake and that of those around him. How much more so a
11

162 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

woman, whose very mission is to make life less burdensome to man,
to soothe and comfort him, to raise him from his petty cares to hap-
pier thoughts, to purer imaginings, towards heaven itself.

At first sight accomplishments seem to belong to women more
than to men, but if we look more closely into the subject we shall
find that a man has a double necessity upon him ; he must be fit,
on the one hand, for the society of men, on the other for that of
women, and this involves a double list of acquirements ; while
those of women, which make them charming to men, fit them also
for the company of their own sex.

Thus we must refuse in this case the place aux dames, and take
the men first. To mix comfortably with the society of his own sex
must be the first object to a man, properly so called, and to do this
he requires to know a certain number of arts which are common
among his own.

Foremost of these is the art of self-defence, which is one which
society constantly calls into requisition. Fortunately the duel is
gone out of fashion, and a man need not now, as in the days of
good Queen Bess, come to town to learn how to pick and take a quar-
rel, and how to get well out of it when made. Fencing in England
is now nothing more than an exercise, no longer qualifying a man to
take his place as a gentleman among his betters ; but that which has
succeeded to it is not without its importance, and the ' ' compleat gen-
tleman " should be able to use his fists. Low as this art is, and con-
temptible as are those who make a profession of it, it is nevertheless
of importance to a man of every class, for a good blow often solves
a difficulty as readily as Alexander' s sword cut the G-ordian knot.
There are men whom nothing but a physical punishment will bring
to reason, and with these we shall have to deal at some time of bur
lives. A lady is insulted or annoyed by an unwieldy bargee, or an
importunate and dishonest cabman. One well-dealt blow settles the
whole matter. It is true that it is brutal, and certainly should be a
last resource ; but to last resources we are often driven, and a show

BOXING. 1G3

of determination brings impudence to an armistice. I would say,
then, know how to use your fists, but never use them as long- as any
other argument will prevail, but, when all others fail, have recourse
to that natural and certainly most convincing logic. A man, there-
fore, whether he aspires to be a gentleman or not, should learn to
box. It is a knowledge easily gained. There are but few rules for
it, and those are suggested by common sense. Strike out, strike
straight, strike suddenly ; keep one arm to guard, and punish with
the other. Two gentlemen never fight ; the art of boxing is only
brought into use in punishing a stronger and more impudent man of
a class beneath your own.

There is good in everything, and there is a view to take of the
pugilistic art which compensates in some measure for its brutal
character in this country. The fit has expelled the sword and pistol.
The former indeed went out about the beginning of last century, and
Beau Nash, though by no means a coward, did his best to put down
the wearing of a weapon which was a perpetual temptation to com-
mit poMte murder and disturb the harmony essential to good society.
There could be no comfort and no freedom in conversation when,
instead of politely differing with you, a man's hand moved to hi3
sword-hilt. It is no argument against me that the rapier is still
worn at court, for I feel convinced that nine-tenths of those orna-
mental but utterly useless appendages would never be induced to
quit their scabbards, and, even if drawn, would be of no more
value than a stick in the hands of at least nine-tenths of their
courtly owners.

But it was another kind of biped who put down duelling, and a
cock-pheasant of Wimbledon Common, jealous, no doubt, at seeing
the powder which ought to have been used for him, thrown away
upon a human being, or perhaps anxious to try whether a bullet
tasted better than shot, who had the honor of making these en-
counters so superbly ridiculous, that to call a man out in the present
day is equivalent to calling him a fool and confessing yourself idiotic.

164 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

There are those, however, who regret the palmy days of twelve
paces and coffee for four, and tell us that the fear of a hole in the
waistcoat kept many an impudent man in his place, and restrained
unwarrantable familiarity. With all submission I would suggest
that the fear of being knocked down on the spot, and having his
beauty spoiled, is likely to be much more persuasive to a man who
can offend in this manner. But will you kindly look across the
water either way, and tell me if the. silly custom, kept up both in
Europe and America, has there the effect of awing men into even
decent politeness ! In the latter country, especially, where a ' ' diffi-
culty " almost always ends fatally, it is by no means uncommon for a
complete stranger to put his hands into his pockets, cock his eye at
you, and inform you by way of introduction, u Wall, I guess you're
a tarnation loggerhead, yeeou aire," proceeding to pass comments on
your nationality, your personal appearance, and your general mental
capacities, according to the "guess," reckoning," or " calcyoo-lation "
of the speaker. If you were to meet these with astonishment, in-
dignation, anger, or, in short, in any way but by the retort personal
and direct of the tu quoque description, you would be looked on as a
disagreeable, testy, and pugnacious Britisher, and the rest of the
company would probably request you to "shut up." In fact, so
universal is insolence in America, that even in what is there called
good society — the "up-town" sets — you are liable to be assailed
with the grossest epithets, and it is only after being bespattered
with essence of Billingsgate, that you would be allowed to remark,
"Wall, that's some, that is; I reckon my dander's ris a bit after
that." Of course these remarks do not apply to New York, which,
in civilization, is as far in advance of the States generally, as Lon-
don is of the Hebrides.

It is no longer necessary, therefore, to give the etiquette of duel-
ling, which may be gathered, as a curiosity, from almeet every novel
written twenty years ago. It would be as sensible to give the eti-
quette ofmurd°r. As tD ifcs immorality, it has been discussed again
and again, and the custom has been finally condemned on that score.

fip:ld sports. 165

Of course to knock a man down is never good manners, but there
is a way of doing- it gracefully, and one rule should be observed, viz.,
whether you can command your temper or not, never show it, ex-
cept by the blow. Never assail an offender with words, nor when
you strike him, use such expressions as, " Take that," &c. There
are cases in society when it is quite incumbent on you to knock
an offender down, if you can, whether you feel angry or not, so
that, if to do so is not precisely good manners, to omit it is some-
times very bad manners ; and to box, and that well, is therefore an
important accomplishment, particularly for little men.

It is decidedly a relief to quit that subject, and I am not ambi-
tious of emulating those gentlemen of the sword of Queen Eliza-
beth's day, who, for a small gratuity, would decide for you whether
yoar honor was hurt or not — a question they usually contrived to
answer in the negative, to the great relief and satisfaction of the ap-
plicant.

Our field sports have been so often and justly lauded that I shall '
not now speak of them in a constitutional point of view, but their
effect on society is a matter of no small interest, and it is extremely
agreeable to Englishmen to be reminded of points of their superi-
ority over their neighbors. I am inclined to think that our love of
sports, if it spoils the London season, and makes dancing a torment,
does none the less assist our women to be virtuous, and our men to
be noble. The effect of a want of good, healthy out-door amuse-
ments is to make of a man either a carpet-knight, or a hanger about
cafes. The life of cities tends to demoralize, and anything which
takes a man away from a town for a time has its value. Thus
hunting, shooting, riding, driving, cricket, and so forth, are as im-
portant elements of social life as dancing and music, and to be igno-
rant of their art will not only exclude one from much charming
society we might sometimes enjoy, but will often cause us to put
others to great inconvenience, if it does not equally annoy ourselves.
Often in the country there is no other conveyance but a horse and

1 6 6 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

saddle to be had. What are we to do if we cannot ride ? Still
oftener the whole arrangement of some party of pleasure depends
on our being able to leave the coachman behind, and it is to us, the
only gentleman perhaps, that the ladies apply to take his place.
How, then, if we cannot handle a whip ? Then, too, in the country,
riding and driving are such common accomplishments, that besides
the inconvenience, our ignorance of them subjects us even to ridi-
cule. What more laughable than a man jolted up and down on his
horse, till his hat slips to the back of his head, his hair flies about,
his trousers creep up to his knees, and his face expresses either
pitiable misery or ludicrous discomfort? On the other hand, to
hunt, shoot, handle a bat, or a billiard-cue, though by no means ex-
pected of every man, are often the only amusements in the country,
and we may, if ignorant of them, not only be shut out from them
ourselves, but even oblige our host to give them up on our account.
In fact, the more of such accomplishments you know, the less
tedious will your life be to youself and your company to others,
and though wit and conversation are worth all the amusements
which a toy-maker could dream of, you must not forget that the
world is mainly peopled with fools, and that to appreciate your
sallies, and join in your mirth, requires an amount of sense which is
not to be found in every country bumpkin. Should the weird sis-
ters, in a fit of bad temper, send you by express to sojourn for a
month with a gentleman farmer or small hunting squire, what can
you do but shoot, ride, or drive with him? Will your heavy-
headed host, who dreams of partridges, and vacillates between long-
horns and turnips in his waking thoughts, care for your choice
club -gossip, understand your fine- edged wit, or thank you for your
political news and Parliamentary prospects ? No, no ; you must re-
late, slowly and surely, how on such a day in such a year you "met "
at such a village, " drew" such a cover, threw off in such a direc-
tion, ucast M at such a spot, ran for so many minutes, and made so
many wonderful, probably also apocryphal, leaps during that period.

RIDING. 167

Relate how many birds you bagged, what score you made at any in-
significant cricket-match, and how you swam from Barnes to Brent-
ford against tide and stream. Then, indeed, is your man your
friend, and he will privately impart to his wife that evening that he
thinks you u an amazingly fine fellow," which would have sounded
very like " horrid bore," if you had not been able to come out on
these subjects.

I have no intention to trespass on Mr. Rarey's province, and I am
further of opinion that equitation cannot, like grammar, be learned
from a book, but there are a few useful hints about the etiquette of
riding, which may well be introduced here. The first thing, then, is
to dress suitably. Boots and cords were once the sine qua noil of a
horseman, but though they are very comfortable, and may still be
worn in the country, when you are not going to ride with ladies,
they have been interdicted in town, and would mark you out as a
riding-master. On the other hand, you must avoid too fine a dress,
such as patent leather boots, and should wear a cutaway in pre-
ference to a frock-coat. Above all, let the stick or whip be simple,
with no gold head, no flummery about it. For the country, you
may have what is commonly called a " crop," with a bone handle at
the end ; for town, you may take either an ordinary walking-stick,
or a gentleman's riding whip, mounted simply with silver. In all
other respects, your dress should be that in which you walk. The
lady's dress has been described in the last chapter.

A man who rides without ladies requires no groom to follow him,
and a young man particularly should never take one, even though he
intends to make calls. A lady, on the other hand, should never ride
alone, except in quiet parts of the country. In London she would be
taken for a demoiselle du cirque, and in the country she would be
liable to accidents, with no one to assist her. A young lady should
not ride out without a gentleman, as well as a groom, and, under
most circumstances, mamma would decidedly object to that gentle-
man being young and single, unless he were a very intimate friend.

168 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

Having thus arranged your dress and your party, you go down
and mount — no, you do not mount yourself, but assist the ladies.
There never was so lame a legend as that of a certain lady of
Coventry, whom Tennyson and Thomas the Inquisitive have ren-
dered celebrated. Of course it is very pretty, and we who honor
women as we should (though we burnt la Pucelle $ Orleans), and
have had a range of noble ones from Boadicea to Florence Nightin-
gale, can well believe that Godiva was as modest as she was merci-
ful ; but have we ever asked — icho assisted her f Perhaps you will
tell me that till a very recent period, no stable-yard was without a
flight of three stone-steps standing by themselves, and that wo-
men always mounted from these. I know it, and have seen hun-
dreds of them in the western counties; but before I admit your
argument, you must show me that these steps existed in the days
of the fair equestrian who wore no garb but modesty ; you must
prove that those people are wrong who describe the ladies of the olden
time as mounting from the shoulder of a serving-man or a gallant.

However this may be, neither steps nor shoulders are so good as a
steady hand, which is the means patronized by modern horsewomen.
The lady having gathered up her skirt, and holding it in her left
hand, must place herself as close as possible to the horse, with her
face towards the animal's head, and her right hand on the pum-
mel. The gentleman, whose part and privilege it is to assist her,
having first obtained her consent to do so, then places himself at
the horse's shoulder with his face towards the lady, and, stooping a
little, places his right hand horizontally at a convenient elevation
from the ground. On the palm of this hand the damsel sets her
sweet little left foot, and it is then the gentleman's duty to lift it
with a gentle motion as she herself springs upwards. But beware
that you do not jerk it up too suddenly, lest she lose her balance,
and be thrown back over the saddle. I have seen a lady nearly
killed by awkward mounting.

A man should be able to mount on either side of the horse, and

MOUNTING AND THE SEAT. 169

ladies who ride much and wish to keep their figures straight, change
the side from time to time. When the lady is in the saddle you
should offer to put her foot in the stirrup and to pull down the skirt,
and you then give her the reins, and proceed to mount yourself. "Mr.
B,arey teaches us to do so without stirrups, and a man who would be
graceful should practise this on either side. A horse, like most other
animals, has two sides. The one which is to our left when we are
in the saddle is called the near, the other the off side, and it is on
the former that we generally mount. We place our left foot in the
stirrup, our left hand on the saddle, and swing ourselves up, throw-
ing the right leg over the creature's back. Nothing is more grace-
less than to see a man climb with both hands into his seat.

The seat itself is one of those things which must be learned by
practice". The chief rules are : sit upright, but not stiffly, and well
back in the saddle ; stick the knees into the sides thereof, and keep
the feet parallel to the horse's body, the toes turned in rather than
out. The foot should be about half-way in the stirrup, which in
rough -riding may be allowed to slip down to the hollow of the foot.
The greatest obstacle to good riding is want of confidence, and this
can scarcely be acquired, except by beginning at an early age. If
you cannot ride decently, you had better not attempt it in company,
if you would not risk the fate of Geordie Campbell, —

"• Saddled, and bridled, and booted rode he,
Hame cam his gude steed, but never cam he."

The rule of the road need not be observed in riding as in driving,
but you should always ride to the right of the lady who is with you,
lest you risk crushing her feet. Your own, of course, you must not
care about. When you meet people whom you know on horseback,
you have no right to turn and join them, unless invited to do so. If
you overtake them, on the other hand, you have a right to ride with
them ; but if you are not wanted, you will be careful about exercis-
ing the privilege.

170 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

About hunting I shall say little, because I know little, which is a
confession yon will find it the wisest plan to make in the country.
I shall only advise you not to hunt unless you have a good seat and
a good horse, and never accept the loan of a friend's horse, and still
less an enemy's, unless you can ride very well. A man may forgive you
for breaking his daughter's heart, but never for breaking his hunter's
neck. Another point is always to be quiet at a meet, and never join
a small meet unless you know some one in the field. The first essen-
tial for hunting is pluck ; the second, skill ; the third, a good horse.
Avoid talking of your achievements, enthusiastic shouting when you
break cover, and riding over the hounds. Whatever you do, do not
injure one of those precious animals.

There is a grace in riding which no jockey, no professional hunts-
man ever acquires. When once you have confidence, ease may soon
follow ; but without much practice, you will always be more or less
stiff in your seat. A lady should be careful to sit straight in the mid-
dle of the saddle, with her face full towards the horse's head. What-
ever the motion of the animal, you should attempt to cling as closely
as possible to the saddle. The Austrian officers pride themselves on
being able to trot for a mile with a glass of wine in one hand, and
not spill a drop of it. In England we rise in trotting, as a relief to
ourselves and the horse, but this is never done in any other country.
The first rule is to rise, not from the stirrup, but from the knees ;
the second, to rise as little as possible. The man who " shows day-
light " between himself and his saddle is a bad rider. A lady should
rise even less than a man, and neither of them should lean over the
horse's neck, nor hold the reins in both hands. But I am not a rid-
ing-master, and I am trespassing on his ground.

Driving, again, is an accomplishment of butchers' boys and han-
som cabmen as much as of u gentlemen," but there is a vast differ-
ence in the style. One rule may be given at once, and we may un-
hesitatingly affirm that Jehu the son of Nimshi was "no gentle-
man," when we remind you that to drive furiously, as well as to

DRIVING. 171

ride furiously, is not only forbidden by law, but a low, cruel, ungen-
tlemanlike habit.

" The beggar mounted rides his horse to death."

If you drive too fast, I am tempted to ask whether the animal is
your own, and whether you know its value. I may add, that if wise
you will never drive other people's horses unless asked to do so. The
rule of the road in England is a curious instance of our national
distinctiveness. In every other country that I know, the law is sim-
ple enough : always keep to the right side of the road. In this
land, on the contrary, you must take the left when you meet, and
the right when you pass. The custom, I believe, originated in that
of shaking hands with every one you met, which reminds me of a
pretty one they once had, and even now retain in some parts of
France — that of a man and lady riding hand in hand together. I
have even ridden arm in arm with a fair-haired blue-eyed Norman
girl, and if I did not snatch a kiss there and then, it was not for fear
of losing my balance. Well, our grandmothers used to ride on one
horse with our grandfathers, tucking their fingers into the belts
which the latter wore, and seated on the pillion much more comfort-
ably than their granddaughters on the pummel ; but what horses
they must have had in those days !

But to return to driving. It is a simple art, requiring care rather
than aught else, unless it be a knowledge of the dispositions of the
horse or horses you undertake to drive. One horse or a pair can
give but little embarrassment, and you will seldom be called upon to
drive tandem, unicorn, or four in hand. But, perhaps, more acci-
dents occur in turning corners than in anything else, and I should
not do my duty if I did not advise you, when the corner is on your
right hand, to give it a wide berth ; when on your left, to turn it
gently and as slowly as possible.

The exercises which come rather under the head of games, such as
cricket, rackets, tennis, bowls, skittles, and a dozen others, are by no

172 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

means compulsory on any man to know, and I shall therefore leave
their description to the many and various guide-books destined to in-
troduce the young athlete to British Olympics. But I may remark
that, while these games are purely republican in spirit, and my lord,
if clumsy, ranks lower for the time than the skilful villager, it is no.
way difficult to distinguish the well-bred man, whether a good player
or not. For while he yields entirely to the excitement of the game,
he will refuse to join in the silly familiarities to which it sometimes
leads. You will never hear him banter another on his bad play, nor,
as too common in some games, will he vent oaths and strong epi-
thets on some one who has made a gross error. When he does so
himself, he will confess himself wrong, and not clamorously defend
himself ; and, if he has to ask another player for anything, he will call
to him in an affable and not an impatient commanding tone, and use
some such phrase as: a May I trouble you for that ball, sir ?" not
u Ball, you there," as one sometimes hears it. In short, he will re-
tain, under the excitement of the game, the same good bearing
which he displays in society.

Similar observations apply to all kinds of out-door amusements,
such as shooting, boating, and so forth. A gentleman will never at-
tempt to monopolize the sport, and however superior in skill to his
companions, will not parade his superiority, still less boast of it,
but rather, that the others may not feel their inferiority, he will keep
considerably within his powers. If a guest or a strang-er be of the
party, the best place and best sport must be offered to him, even
though he may be a poor shot, a bad oar, and so on ; but, at the
same time, if a guest knows his inferiority in this respect, he will,
for more reasons than one, prefer an inferior position. So, too,
when a certain amount of exertion is required, as in boating, a well-
bred man will offer to take the greater share, and will never shirk
his work. In short, the whole rule of good manners on such occa-
sions is not to be selfish, and the most amiable man will therefore be
the best bred.

SPORTS. 173

Talking1 of boating reminds one of old college days, and the
healthy happiness that exercise used to bring one. It is certainly
desirable that a " compleat gentleman " should be able to handle an
oar as well as a gun, both that when he has the opportunity he may
get health, and that he maybe able to take part in the charming ex-
cursions which are made by water. In fact a man ought to be able
to turn his hand to almost everything, and, what is more, should do
himself whatever he can. It is a false and vulgar pride which pre-
vents a man from stooping to cord his own box, carrying his own
bag, weeding his own garden, cutting his own hedges (for he must
take care not to cut anybody else's), shutting his own shutters,
putting coal on his own fire, or what not. To ring up a servant for
these things, shows either laziness or a vulgar attempt at grandeur.
Indeed, for my part, nothing seems to me so comfortless as the con-
stant entrance of servants ; it interrupts conversation, and destroys
the feelings of ease and privacy. I once met, at the house of a lady
friend, the son of a man who had begun life as a grocer, made his
fortune by a successful speculation, and settled down in the full con-
viction that he was therefore a "gentleman." My friend had re-
quested the young man to put some coal on the fire, and as he was
rather clumsy about it, he excused himself in the following speech :

"You see, aw — Mrs. B , that I am — aw — really not accustomed

to do this kind of thing, don't you see ? Now at home, you see, the
governor, when he wants coals, rings the bell, and the butler
comes in; 4 Coal,' says the old gentleman, and the butler disap-
appears to tell — aw — the upper-footman, who thinks it beneath his
dignity, and therefore tells — aw — the under-f ootman, who comes up
and puts it on." I thought of the Anglo-Indians, who, in this coun-
try, have often had no more servants than a cook, a maid, and a
"buttons," and had to do everything for themselves ; but who, once
in India, find it impossible to tie their own shoe-strings, and are
obliged to keep a twenty-one th or even thirty- one th servant for
equally trivial offices.

174 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

But if a certain amount of skill in out-door amusements is essen-
tial to a man who wishes to be agreeable, how much more so in those
in-door amusements, which are the very objects for which people
commonly assemble, and are therefore the continual accompaniments
of society ? The art of talking* is, of course, the first of such accom-
plishments, and as it is a subject of the highest importance and very
large range, it has been taken up in the preliminary chapter. But
besides conversation, and sometimes as an aid to it, parties and balls
are given for the purposes of dancing, music, games (especially
cards), and eating and drinking. Of the etiquette of these parties I
shall speak elsewhere. I now content myself with a few hints on
the accomplishments themselves which are displayed in them.

" Thank you — aw — I do not dance," is now a very common
reply from a well-dressed handsome man who is leaning against
the side of the door, to the anxious, heated hostess, who feels
it incumbent on her to find a partner for poor Miss Wallflower. I
say the reply is not only common, but even regarded as rather a
fine one to make. In short, men of the present day don't, won't,
or can't, dance ; and you can't make them do it, except by threat-
ening to give them no supper. I really cannot discover the reason
for this aversion to an innocent amusement, for the apparent pur-
pose of enjoying which they have spent an hour and a half on
their toilet, and half-a-crown on a hansom cabman. There is
something, indeed, in the heat of a London ball-room in the middle
of July, there is a great deal in the ridiculous smallness of the
closets into which the ball-giver crowds two hundred people with a
cruel indifference only equalled by that of the black-hole of Calcutta,
expecting them to enjoy themselves, when the ladies' dresses are
crushed and torn, and the gentlemen, under the despotism of theirs,
are melting away almost as rapidly as the ices with which an occa-
sional waiter has the heartlessness to insult them. Then, again, it is a
great nuisance to be introduced to a succession of plain, uninteresting
young women, of whose tastes, mode of life, &c, you have not the
slightest conception ; who may look gay, yet have never a thought

"i don't dance." 175

beyond the curate and the parish, or appear to be serious, while
they understand nothing but the opera and Lady So-and-so's ball —
in fact, to'be in perpetual risk of either shocking their prejudices, or
plaguing them with subjects in which they can have no possible in-
terest ; to take your chance whether they can dance at all, and to
know that when you have lighted on a real charmer, perhaps the
beauty of the room, she is only lent to youf or that one dance, and when
that is over, and you have salaamed away again, you and she must
remain to one another as if you had never met ; to feel, in short, that
you must destroy either your present comfort or future happiness,
is certainly sufficiently trying to keep a man close to the side -posts
of the doorway. But these are reasons which might keep him alto-
gether from a ball-room, and if he has these and other objections to
dancing, he certainly cannot be justified in coming to a place set
apart for that sole purpose.

But I suspect that there are other reasons, and that in most
cases the individual can dance and does dance at times, but has now
a vulgar desire to be distinguished from the rest of his sex present,
and to appear indifferent to the pleasures of the evening. If this
be his laudable desire, however, he might at least be consistent,
and continue to cling to his door-post, like St. Sebastian to his tree,
and reply throughout the evening : ' ' Thank you, dont take refresh-
ments : " u Thank you, I can't eat supper : " " Thank you, I don't
talk : " "Thank you, I don't drink champagne," — for if a London
ball-room be purgatory, what a demoniacal conflict does a London
supper- room present ; if young ladies be bad for the heart, cham-
pagne is worse for the head.

No, it is the will, not the power to dance which is wanting, and
to refuse to do so, unless for a really good reason, is not the part of
a well-bred man. To mar the pleasure of others is obviously bad
manners, and though at the doorpost you may not be in the way,
you may be certain that there are some young ladies longing to
dance, and expecting to be asked, and that the hostess is vexed and

1 76 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

annoyed by seeing them fixed, like pictures, to the wall. It is
therefore the duty of every man who has no scruples about dancing",
and purposes to appear at balls, to learn how to dance.

In the present day the art is much simplified, and if you can walk
through a quadrille, and perform a polka, waltz, or galop, you may
often dance a whole evening through. Of course, if you can add
to these the Lancers, Schottische, and Polka-Mazurka, you will have
more variety, and can be more generally agreeable. But if your
master or mistress (a man learns better from the former) has stuffed
into your head some of the three hundred dances which he tells you
exist, the best thing you can do is to forget them again. Whether
right or wrong the number of usual dances is limited, and unusual
ones should be very sparingly introduced into a ball, for as few peo-
ple know them, their dancing, on the one hand, becomes a mere dis-
play, and, on the other, interrupts the enjoyment of the majority.

The quadrille is pronounced to be essentially a conversational
dance, but inasmuch as the figures are perpetually calling you away
from your partner, the first necessity for dancing a quadrille is to
be supplied with a fund of small talk, in which you can go from
subject to subject like a bee from flower to flower. The next
point is to carry yourself uprightly. Time was when — as in the
days of the memiet de la cour — the carriage constituted the dance.
This is still the case with the quadrille, in which, even if ignorant of
the figures, you may acquit yourself well by a calm, graceful car-
riage. After all the most important figure is the smile, and the feet
may be left to their fate, if we know what to do with our hands ; of
which I may observe that they should never be pocketed.

The smile is essential. A dance is supposed to amuse, and noth-
ing is more out of place in it than a gloomy scowl, unless it be an
ill-tempered frown. The gayety of a dance is more essential than
the accuracy of its figures, and if you feel none yourself, you may
at least look pleased by that of those around you. A defiant man-
ner is equally obnoxious. An acquaintance of mine always gives

THE QUADRILLE. 177

me the impression, when he advances in Fete, that he is about to box
the lady who comes to meet him. But the most objectionable of all
is the supercilious manner. Dear me, if you really think you do
your partner an honor in dancing with her, you should at least re-
member that your condescension is annulled by the manner in which
you treat her.

A lady — beautiful word ! — is a delicate creature, one who should
be reverenced and delicately treated. It is therefore unpardonable
to rush about in a quadrille, to catch hold of the lady's hand as if
it were a door-handle, or to drag her furiously across the room, as if
you were Bluebeard and she Fatima, with the mysterious closet
opposite you. This brusque violent style of dancing is unfortunately
common, but immediately stamps a man. Though I would not
have you wear a perpetual simper, you should certainly smile when
you take a lady' s hand, and the old custom of bowing in doing so, is
one that we may regret ; for does she not confer an honor on us by
the action ? To squeeze it, on the other hand, is a gross familiarity,
for which you would deserve to be kicked out of the room.

" Steps," as the chasser of the quadrille is called, belong to a past
age, and even ladies are now content to walk through a quadrille. To
be graceful, however, a lady should hold her skirt out a little. In
France this is done with one hand, which I am inclined to think is
more graceful than holding it with both. It is, however, necessary
to keep time with the music, the great object being the general har-
mony. To preserve this, it is also advisable, where the quadrille, as
is now generally the case, is danced by two long lines of couples down
the room, that in Fete, and other figures, in which a gentleman and
lady advance alone to meet one another, none but gentlemen should
advance from the one side, and therefore none but ladies from the
other.

Dancing masters find it convenient to introduce new figures, and
the fashion of La Trenise and the Grande Bonde is repeatedly
changing. It is wise to know the last mode, but not to insist on
12

178 A CCOMPLISHMENTS.

dancing it. A quadrille cannot go on evenly if any confusion arises
from the ignorance, obstinacy, or inattention of any one of the
dancers. It is therefore useful to know every way in which a figure
may be danced and to take your cue from the others. It is amus-
ing, however, to find how even such a trifle as a choice of figures in
a quadrille can help to mark caste, and give a handle for supercili-
ous sneers. Jones, the other day, was protesting that the Browns
were "vulgar." "Why so? they are well bred." "Yes, so they
are." "They are well-informed." "Certainly." "They are
polite, speak good English, dress quietly and well, are graceful and
even elegant." "I grant you all that." "Then what fault can
you find with them." "My dear fellow, they are people who gallop
round in the last figure of a quadrille," he replied triumphantly.
But to a certain extent Jones is right. Where a choice is given, the
man of taste will always select for a quadrille (as it is a conversa-
tional dance) the quieter mode of performing a figure, and so the
Browns, if perfect in other respects, at least were wanting in taste.
There is one alteration lately introduced from France, which I sin-
cerely trust will be universally accepted. The farce of that degrad-
ing little performance called "setting" — where you dance before
your partner somewhat like Man Friday before Robinson Crusoe, and
then, as if your feelings were overcome, seize her hands and whirl
her round — has been finally abolished by a decree of Fashion, and
thus more opportunity is given for conversation, and in a crowded
room you have no occasion to crush yourself and partner between
the couples on each side of you.

I do not attempt to deny that the quadrille, as now walked, is
ridiculous ; the figures, which might be graceful if performed in a
lively manner, have entirely lost their spirit, and are become a bur-
lesque of dancing; but, at the same time, it is a most valuable
dance. Old and young, stout and thin, good dancers and bad, lazy
and active, stupid and clever, married and single, can all join in it,
and have not only an excuse and opportunity for tete-d-tete couver-

THE WALTZ. 179

sation, which is decidedly the easiest, but find encouragement in the
music, and in some cases convenient breaks in the necessity of danc-
ing. A person of few ideas has time to collect them while the part-
ner is performing, and one of many can bring them out with double
effect. Lastly, if you wish to be polite or friendly to an acquaint-
ance who dances atrociously, you can select a quadrille for him or
her, as the case may be. Intense patriotism still induces some peo-
ple to affirm that the English country-dance is far preferable to this
importation from France. These good creatures should inquire a
little further. I think they would find that the country -dance
{contre-danse) came from the same source at a somewhat earlier
date. But, however this may be, a dance which tears me so com-
pletely away from the partner I have selected ought in nine cases
out of ten to be hateful to me.

Very different in object and principle are the so-called round
dances, and there are great limitations as to those who should join
in them. Here the intention is to enjoy a peculiar physical move-
ment under peculiar conditions, and the conversation during the
intervals of rest is only a secondary object. These dances demand
activity and lightness, and should therefore be, as a rule, confined
to the young. An old man sacrifices all his dignity in a polka, and
an old woman is ridiculous in a waltz. Corpulency, too, is generally
a great impediment, though some stout people prove to be the
lightest dancers.

The morality of round dances scarcely comes within my province.
They certainly can be made very indelicate ; so can any dance, and
the French cancan proves that the quadrille is no safer in this re-
spect than the waltz. But it is a gross insult to our daughters and
sisters to suppose them capable of any but the most innocent and
purest enjoyment in the dance, while of our young men I will say
that to the pure all things are pure. Those who see harm in it are
those in whose mind evil thoughts must have arisen. Hard soit qvj
mal y pense. Those who rail against dancing are perhaps not aware

180 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

that they do but follow in the steps of the Romish Church. In
many parts of the Continent, bishops who have never danced in
their lives, and perhaps never even seen a dance, have laid a ban of
excommunication on waltzing*. A story was told me in Normandy
of the worthy Bishop of Bayeux, one of this number. A priest of
his diocese petitioned him to put down round dances. i ' I know
nothing about them," replied the prelate, " I have never even seen
a waltz." Upon this the younger ecclesiastic attempted to explain
what it was and wherein the danger lay, but the Bishop could not
see it. l • Will Monseigneur permit me to show him ? " asked the
priest. ' l Certainly. My chaplain here appears to understand the
subject ; let me see you two waltz. " How the reverend gentlemen
came to know so much about it does not appear, but they certainly
danced a polka, a galop, and a trois- temps waltz. u All these seem
harmless enough." " Oh ! but Monseigneur has not seen the
worst ; " and thereupon the two gentlemen proceeded to flounder
through a valse d deux-temps. They must have murdered it terribly,
for they were not half round the room when his Lordship cried out,
"Enough, enough, that is atrocious, and deserves excommunica-
tion." Accordingly this waltz was forbidden, while the other
dances were allowed. I was at a public ball at Caen soon after this
occurrence, and was amused to find the trois- temps danced with a
peculiar shuffle, by way of compromise between conscience and
pleasure.

There are people in this country whose logic is as good as that of
the Bishop of Bayeux, but I confess my inability to understand it.
If there is impropriety in round dances, there is the same in all.
But to the waltz, which poets have praised and preachers denounced.
The French, with all their love of dancing, waltz atrociously,
the English but little better; the Germans and Russians alone
understand it. I could rave through three pages about the innocent
enjoyment of a good waltz, its graco and beauty, but I will be
practical instead, and give you a few hints on the subject.

THE WALTZ. 181

The position is the most important point. The lady and gentle-
man before starting" should stand exactly opposite to one another,
quite upright, and not, as is so common in England, painfully close
to one another. If the man's hand be placed where it should be, at
the centre of the lady's waist, and not all round it, he will have
as firm a hold and not be obliged to stoop, or bend to his right.
The lady's head should then be turned a little towards her left
shoulder, and her partner's somewhat less towards his right, in
order to preserve the proper balance. Nothing can be more atro-
cious than to see a lady lay her head on her partner's shoulder ; but,
on the other hand, she will not dance well if she turns it in the
opposite direction. The lady again should throw her head and
shoulders a little back, and the man lean a very little forward.

The position having been gained, the step is the next question.
In Germany the rapidity of the waltz is very great, but it is
rendered elegant by slackening the pace every now and then,
and thus giving a crescendo and decrescendo time to the movement.
The Russian men undertake to perform in waltzing the same feat as
the Austrians in riding, and will dance round' the room with a glass
of champagne in the left hand without spilling a drop. This even-
ness in waltzing is certainly very graceful, but can only be attained
by a long sliding step, which is little practised in England, where
the rooms are small, and people, not understanding the real pleasure
of dancing well, insist on dancing all at the same time. In
Germany they are so alive to the necessity of ample space, that in
large balls a rope is drawn across the room ; its two ends are held
by the masters of the ceremonies pro tern. , and as one couple stops
and retires, another is allowed to pass under the rope and take its
place. But then in Germany they dance for the dancing's sake.
However this may be, an even motion is very desirable, and all the
abominations which militate against it, such as hop-waltzes, the
Schottische, and ridiculous Varsovienne, are justly put down in
good society. The pace, again, should not be sufficiently rapid

182 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

to endanger other couples. It is the gentleman's duty to steer, and
in crowded rooms nothing is more trying. He must keep his eyes
open and turn them in every direction, if he would not risk a
collision, and the chance of a fall, or what is as bad, the infliction of
a wound on his partner's arm. I have seen a lady's arm cut open
in such a collision by the bracelet on that of another lady ; and the
sight is by no means a pleasant one in a ball-room, to say nothing
of a new dress covered in a moment with blood.

The consequences of violent dancing may be really serious. Not
only do delicate girls bring on thereby a violent palpitation of the
heart, and their partners appear in a most disagreeable condition of
solution, but dangerous falls ensue from it. I have known instances
of a lady's head being laid open, and a gentleman's foot being
broken in such a fall, resulting, poor fellow, in lameness for life.

Be careful of the waltz, be sparing, lest it prove, in this land
of consumption, to too many the true dance of death. Let us not
mingle cypress with our roses.

It is perhaps useless to recommend flat-foot waltzing in this
country, where ladies allow themselves to be almost hugged by
their partners, and where men think it necessary to lift a lady
almost off the ground, but I am persuaded that if it were introduced
the outcry against the impropriety of waltzing would soon cease.
Nothing can be more delicate than the way in which a German holds
his partner. It is impossible to dance on the flat foot unless the
lady and gentleman are quite free of one another. His hand there-
fore goes no further round her waist than to the hooks and eyes of
her dress — hers, no higher than to his elbow. Thus danced the
waltz is smooth, graceful, and delicate, and we could never in Ger-
many complain of our daughter's languishing on a young man's
shoulder. On the other hand, nothing is more graceless and absurd
than to see a man waltzing on the tips of his toes, lifting his partner
off the ground, or twirling round and round with her, like the figures
on a street organ. The test of waltzing in time is to be able to

FLAT-FOOT WALTZING. 183

stamp the time with, the left foot. A good flat-foot waltzer can
dance on one foot as well as on two, but I would not advise him to
try it in public, lest like Mr. Rarey's horse on three legs, he should
come to the ground in a luckless moment. The legs should be very
little bent in dancing, the body still less so. I do not know whether
it be worse to see a man sit down in a waltz, or to find him with his
head poked forward over your young wife's shoulder, hot, red, wild,
and in far too close proximity to the partner of your bosom, whom
he makes literally the partner of his own.

King Polka has been deposed after a reign of nearly twenty years.
I cannot refrain from throwing up my cap. True, his rule was
easy, and he was popular on that account ; indeed he has still his
partisans in certain classes, but not in the best. For what a grace-
less, jogging, hugging, sleepy old creature he was ! Then, too, he
was not even a legitimate sovereign. The good family of the
Polkas in Hungary, Poland, &c, would not recognize this pretender
of England and France, who is no more like them than that other
pretender, Mazurka, is like the original spirited, national fling of the
same name. It is curious to see how our D'Egvilles have ransacked
Europe for national dances to be adapted to the drawing-room, and,
indeed, there spoiled. The waltz is of German origin, but where it
is still danced in Germany in the original manner (as for instance,
among the peasants of the Tyrol), it is a very different dance. It is
there very slow and graceful ; the feet are thrown out in a single
long step, which Turveydrop, I presume, would call ajete. After a
few turns, the partners waltz alone in the same step, the man keep-
ing the time by striking together his iron-shod heels, until with a
shout and clapping of hands he again clasps his partner and continues
in the same slow measure with her. The very names of the dances
bespeak their origin. The Sclavonic nations must have given us
the Polka, Mazurka, Eedowa, Gorlitza, and Eletezka, whatever that
may be. The Varsovienne and Cracovienne are all that remain of
Polish nationality.

184 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

Then the Madrilaine has been imported from Spain, which retains
the Oriental Bolero, Fandango, and Cachucha. The last is of purely
Eastern character, and might be danced by a Nach girl before a
Lucknow prince. "Money Musk" was once an English dance.
When there was a quarrel between the country people and the rich
tradesmen at the Bath balls, Beau Nash had some trouble to reconcile
them, but he appropriately sealed his success by ordering the band
to strike up " Money Musk." The "Lancers" are a revival after
many long years, and perhaps we may soon have a drawing-room
adaption of the Morris-dance.

The only advice therefore which it is necessary to give to those
who wish to dance the polka may be summed up in two words,
" don't." Not so with the galop. The remarks as to the position in
waltzing apply to all round dances, and there is therefore little to add
with regard to the galop, except that it is a great mistake to suppose
it to be a rapid dance. It should be danced as slowly as possible.
It will then be more graceful and less fatiguing. It is danced quite
slowly in Germany and on the flat foot. The polka-mazurka is still
much danced, and is certainly very graceful. The remarks on the
quadrille apply equally to the lancers, which are great favorites, and
threaten to take the place of the former. The schottische, hop-
waltz, redowa, varsovienne, cellarius, and so forth, have had their
day, and are no longer danced in good society. The only dance I
regret is the German cotillon, which was introduced a few years
ago, but not approved. English people made a romp of it, and
English young ladies an opportunity for marked flirtation; besides
which English chaperons, not so patient as the same class on the
Continent, would not sit through it. Well I remember the long
hours through which we used to keep it up in Germany, while
mammas and aunts were dozing behind their fans, and how vexed
we were when its varied figures, invented often on the spot, came to
an end, and carriages were called for.

The calm ease which marks the man of good taste, makes even

music. 185

the swiftest danees graceful and agreeable. Vehemence may be
excused at an election, but not in a ball-room. I once asked a beau-
tiful and very clever young lady how she, who seemed to pass her
life with books, managed to dance so well. "I enjoy it," she
replied ; " and when I dance I give my wliole mind to it." And she
was quite right. Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing
well ; and if it is not beneath your dignity to dance, it is not un-
worthy of your mind to give itself, for the time, wholly up to it.
You will never enjoy dancing till you do it well ; and if you do not
enjoy it, it is folly to dance. But in reality, dancing, if it be a mere
trifle, is one to which great minds have not been ashamed to stoop.
Locke, for instance, has written on its utility, and speaks of it as
manly, which was certainly not Michal's opinion, when she looked
out of the window and saw her lord and master dancing and playing.
Plato recommended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka of
the day, when quite an old gentleman, and liked it very much.
Some one has even gone the length of calling it "the logic of the
body ; " and Addison defends himself for making it the subject of
a disquisition. If I say much more I shall have to do the same as
Addison, and will therefore pass to some other accomplishments
useful, if not necessary, in society.

On the Continent almost every boy is taught to play the piano.
A very false principle has, till lately, kept our men from all the
softer portion of life ; manliness was identified with roughness, and
every accomplishment which was suitable to a woman was considered
beneath the dignity of a man. In shorty it is not fifty years ago
since to hunt, shoot, and drink your bottle of port formed the only
accomplishments necessary for male society, and refinement did not
extend beyond an elegance in bowing, in taking snuff, and in
gallantry to the ladies. Left to themselves, men were ashamed to
be anything better than bears. Fortunately it is now agreed that
manliness and refinement are not opposed to one another.

I believe that there is a taste for music in every child born, and

186 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

that if it disappears in after life, it is for want of cultivation. Was
there ever yet a baby which could not be sung- to sleep ? However
this may be, to play some one instrument is of more value to a man
than at first sight appears. To the character it is a refiner. Music
is the medicine of the soul ; it soothes the wrinkles of a hard life of
business, and lifts us from thoughts of money, intrigue, enterprises,
anxieties, hatred, and what not, to a calmer, more heavenly frame
of mind. To a man himself, therefore, the power to play is of use.
He may not always have a sister, wife, or daughter to sing and
play to him ; he may not always be within reach of the opera and
concert rooms ; and then, too, half the enjoyment of music is gone
when you cannot enjoy it as you list, and of what kind you need,
gay or grave, as your fancy lies. It is an indulgence to a pure mind,
and it is one of those few indulgences which are free from
harm.

But besides this, a knowledge of music is valuable to a man in the
society both of his own and the other sex. It is a great recommen-
dation among women, and vibrates on a chord of sympathy between
the sexes, when possibly there is no other. Still more so where
women are not, and their want is felt. The man who can play an
air is a boon to the camp, the college, or the Inn of Court. Well do
I remember how popular Jones was for his piano, and Smith for his
cornet, at St. Boniface's. Yet Jones and Smith were very dull men
in themselves, and kept very bad wine. What did we care ? We
did not want to drink with our mouths when we could do so with
our ears. But if instrumental music recommend a man, still more
the cultivation of the natural musical instrument. " He can tell a
good story and sing a good song," is almost the best recommenda-
tion one bachelor can give of another in a social point of view,
and if you can sing a good ballad, or take part in a duet, quartette,
chorus, or what not, you are invaluable in an evening party.

There are, however, a few points to be attended to in connection
with playing or singing in public. In the first place, as to a choice

SINGING. 187

of instrument. The piano is always acceptable, but however good a
man's touch, it must be remembered, it is not so agreeable in a room
as a lady's. Every other instrument should be accompanied by the
piano, so that unless you have some fair friend ready to play for
you, it will be useless to take your instrument. But under the most
fortunate circumstances, your choice is limited. The instrument
must not be too loud or too harsh for the sensitive tympanum of
your fair audience. No one would volunteer a solo on the drum,
perhaps; but men who play but little, will sometimes inflict the
hautbois or cornet-a-pistons on their unhappy listeners ; these two
instruments, and indeed every species of horn, can only be tolerated
in a drawing-room if extremely well played, and therefore modulated.
On the other hand, if you care for your appearance, you will scarcely
introduce the violoncello. The fiddle is. so common that people will
not care for it unless played with execution, and the flageolet is
scarcely worth listening to. There remains the flute, and the
guitar, which is a good accompaniment to the voice, but should not
be played by a stout or an elderly man. Concerts are so common
now, and first-rate performers so easily heard, that more than com-
mon proficiency will be expected from you on any instrument except
the piano, and you should therefore never take your instrument with
you unless particularly requested to do so by the inviter, nor play
more than once unless pressed to do so by the lady of the house.

If you have a tenor or alto voice, a good ear, and a knowledge of a
few songs, you need never be afraid of singing in public. A bary-
tone, being commoner, requires more excellence to back it, and a
bass should be prohibited, /think, from solo exhibitions, unless very
good. But be the voice what it may, if you cannot sing in tune,
never attempt it. Others in the company will have better ears than
yourself, and politely execrate you. Time is not so important, un-
less you join a duet, trio, or chorus. The choice of songs is quite
as essential as the choice of an instrument. A man should not
sing women's ditties, and should never yawl out the namby-pamby

188 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

ballads beloved of young ladies. A really honest love-song, in which,
the words are as good as the music, becomes a tenor or barytone
well — scarcely a basso. On the other hand, the too ferocious style
should be avoided. Comic songs, as a general rule, are atrocious.
Their want of wit is not atoned for by the presence of slang, vul-
garity, or even coarseness. They are usually written by men of in-
ferior mind, often for the stage or public entertainments, and are
purposely broad, in order to be understood by a mixed audience.
On the other hand, if you have essentially a comic face and manner,
and can sing a parody, or a more refined comic song with character,
you may attempt it in small parties. In men's society, of course,
the comic song is the most popular.

A man singing before ladies must remember their nerves, and
modulate his voice. He must also bear in mind, that however well
he sings, a lady's voice is more suited to a drawing-room, and unless
pressed to do so, will content himself with one or at most two
songs. But a man should not allow himself to be pressed too much,
nor affect diffidence, like a young miss of seventeen. If he has not
sung or played before, he should do so (if he can) without hesita-
tion, and with an amiable willingness, being confident that the lady
of the house desires to amuse her guests rather than to natter him.

In general society, the card-table in the present day is happily re-
served for elderly people, but a young man may be sometimes called
upon to make up a rubber, and if so he would mar the pleasure of
others if he were not able to take a hand. At the same time it is
generally understood that ladies and young men should not be asked
to do so, unless absolutely necessary, and if a hostess opens a card-
table, she should be able beforehand to select a sufficient and suita-
ble number of players. It is always trying to see ladies play. It-
has been observed that women have only two passions, love and av-
arice. The latter ill becomes them, and yet so strong is it, that they
can rarely conceal it at the card-table.

Where a number of guests are willing to play, the selection is

MODERN LANGUAGES. 189

made by drawing" cards, and the highest drawers are excluded from
the game. At whist the two lower and two higher drawers become
partners respectively; the lowest has the first deal. The trial of
temper then ensues, and if card -playing has no other virtue, it may
be commended as a test of temper and good-breeding. Lose with-
out a murmur, win without triumph. Never insist too sharply on
fines, and be ready to pay on the spot. If unable to do this, you
should pay the next morning at the latest. It is always allowable
to man or lady to say, " I do not play, and the words are understood
to mean that though able, you prefer not to do so. If a bad player,
you will do well to keep away from the table ; you have a partner's
interest to consult as well as your own. As a general rule in good
society, it should be understood that one does not play for money,
but with money. The skill rather than the result of the game must
be the point of interest.

In round games, which are patronized by people who have not the
accomplishments to supply their place, or the wit to do without them,
the main fault to be avoided is eagerness. Of single games, you
should know as many as p6ssible. The finest of them is chess,
which is worthy of any man, and a splendid mental exercise. With-
out aspiring to be a Morphy or a Staunton, you may by practice and
thought become an excellent chess player ; but the game is not a
social one, and requires too much abstraction to be introduced in
social gatherings.

Perhaps the most useful accomplishmeDt to one's self is a knowl-
edge of languages. Independent of the great superiority it gives
you in travel, and the wide field of literature to which it introduces
you, you are liable in really good society, especially in high London
circles, to meet with foreigners having a very slight acquaintance
with English. From them you may derive a vast amount of infor-
mation, turn the slow current of your associations, and even be
amused more than by any conversation with your own countrymen.
The most patriotic John Bull now admits that foreigners understand

190 " ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

better than ourselves the art of conversation, and though we may
accuse them of frivolity among themselves, we must remember that
in English society their first desire is to make themselves really ap-
preciated. As a rule, too, they are more interested than we are in
current history ; and whatever their prejudices or their ignorance,
you will rarely meet with a Frenchman, Italian, or German from
whom you may not gather much curious information which will
serve you elsewhere. An untravelled man is always at some disad-
vantage in good English society, where almost every one but himself
will have crossed the channel, but if he has a good knowledge of
continental language and literature, this disadvantage is materially
diminished.

An accomplishment much overlooked as an accomplishment, but
one indispensable to good society, is to be able to talk on current
literature and passing affairs. Every gentleman in the present day
should subscribe to a circulating library, and take in a London news-
paper. Besides taking in the latter, he should read it with judgment.
He should be able to form and give an opinion independent of party
prejudice on any question of common interest. Whatever his views,
he should be able as a man of sense, and in order to be agreeable, to
look on them independently, to support them reasonably, or abandon
them gracefully. Politics, and even religion, can, I rejoice to say,
be discussed in the present day without inflammation and acerbity,
and, though the latter subject is better avoided in mixed circles, a
thorough gentleman will be able to bow to another's opinion, and to
put forward his own delicately and sensibly.

There is one more accomplishment which is, fortunately, fast fall-
ing into disuse. The days are done when an awkward servant could
anoint your head and best coat with a whole dishful of gravy, or an
unskilled gentleman might be forced to bow to the lady on his right,
with : "Madam, I'll trouble you for that goose in your lap." Bad
carving used to spoil three good things on the part of the carver — good
joints, good temper, and a good digestion. Even good carving mar-

CARVING. 191

red conversation, and to short men it was a positive infliction, for I
need scarcely say, that under no circumstances whatever could a
man be permitted to stand up to carve. But because the carving' of
joints, game, &c, at a side table is a foreign custom lately intro-
duced into this country, there are people still found patriotic enough
to prefer carving at the dinner-table. " I like the good old English
custom," says one ; "I like to see a host dispensing his hospitality
himself ;" and in the country, where some hosts prefer meat to man-
ners, it is still retained. But I may ask whether hospitality consists
more in severing the wings from a chicken's body, than in setting
all your guests at their ease, and at once leading off the conversa-
tion. Does it demand a distribution of good morsels rather than of
good will? The advocates of the "good old custom" may be re-
minded again that in former days it was the hostess, not the host,
who dispensed the viands, her husband being occupied with a dis-
tribution of the wine, which is the reason why the lady sat at the
head of the table ; but what is the value of an old custom univer-
sally disregarded, since no longer the hostess, but the guest who has
the misfortune to take her in to dinner, is called upon to play the
part of butcher ? Can it be any more satisfactory to me to have
my mutton sliced by a guest than by the butler in my host's service ?

Another argument maliciously advanced, is contained in the sneer :
"No, no, thank you, I like to see my dinner, and know what I am
eating." But what a slur upon the hospitality of your host, to sup-
pose he would give you a cat for a hare, or a puppy for a rabbit !
We might as well insist that he should sup our port before we drink
it lest there should be poison in the cup — a custom, by the way, still
retained in Bavaria, where the kelhierinn, or waitress, who brings
you your quart of beer, invariably puts it to her mouth before she
hands it to you. But there is a reason for that, since many a soldier
in the Thirty Years' War was poisoned at a beer-garden.

Carving is, however, still common at small parties and family din-
ners, and it will be a happy time when it is abandoned even there.

192 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

I have seen many an unfortunate young man put to confusion when
deputed to carve, by the anxious looks of the host or hostess, and
have even heard such atrociously rude remarks as, ' ' Thomas, bring
that fowl to me ; Mr. Jones seems not to understand it ;" nay, I have
seen people lose their temper so completely at having their pet
dishes hacked by the unskilful, as to produce an awkward silence
through the whole company. Then, too, in family circles, more
quarrels are to be traced to a blunt knife or a difficult dish, than
even to milliners' bills, and I stayed for a short time in one house
whose master at last got into a habit of losing his temper over the
joint, which he carved very ill at all times, and where, in conse-
quence, dinner was more dreaded than the pillory. Indeed, as great
results may often be traced to the most trifling causes, I am con-
vinced that half the domestic tyranny of the British Paterfamilias,
and much of the bickering and irritation which deprive home of its
charms, may be traced to no greater cause than the cutting up of a
joint. The larger the family, the greater the misery of the carver,
who has scarcely helped them all round before the first receiver has
done and is ready for a second helping. When at last the hungry
father or elder brother can secure a mouthful, he must hurry over
it, at the risk of dyspepsia, in order not to keep the others waiting.
But we are a nation of conservatives, and a custom which de-
scended from the days when a knight would stick his dagger into a
leg of mutton, which he held by the knuckle -bone (hence the frill of
white paper still stuck round it, to slop in the gravy and look dis-
gusting before the joint is removed), and carve him a good thick
slice without more ceremony, will not soon be got rid of, however
great a nuisance. It is therefore necessary, if you would avoid irri-
tation, black looks, and even rude speeches, to know how to carve
at a friend's table, whatever you may do at your own. When thus
situated, the following hints will be found useful.

HINTS ON CARVING. 193

HINTS ON CARVING AND HELPING.

1. Soup is helped with, a ladle. Take care that the servant holds
the plate close to the tureen, and distribute one ladleful to each
person.

2. Fish is cut with a large flat silver knife or fish-slice, never with a
common one. Of small fish, you send one to each person. All the
larger flat fish, such as turbot, John Dorey, brills, etc. , must be
first cut from head to tail down the middle, and then in portions
from this cut to the fin, which being considered the best part, is
helped with the rest. Fried soles, on the other hand, are simply
cut across, dividing the bone. The shoulder is the best part, and
should be first helped. Salmon, being laid on the side, is cut down
the middle of the upper side, and then across from the back to the
belly. A boiled mackerel serves for four people. The fish-knife is
passed from tail to head under the upper side, which is then divided
into two. Cod is always crossways, and a small piece of the sound
sent with each helping.

3. Joints are helped with a steel fork, of which, if you value your
fingers, you will take care that the guard is raised, and a carving
knife, which for the sake of your neighbor's teeth, if you do not
care for your own, you will never yourself sharpen. Let us pre-
mise that the butcher and cook must assist the carver, and that an
ill- cut or ill- jointed joint augments terribly the torture of the dis-
penser. It must also be premised that there are more ways than
one of cutting the same joint, that sometimes one, sometimes an-
other is preferred, and that one way will often be the more economi-
cal, another the more elegant. Happy age when the butler shall
have the responsibility of pleasing both the master and mistress of
the house, who invariably differ when there is an alternative !

The roast beef of Old England, on which our glory is said to fatten
and our pluck to thrive, appears on well-kept tables in two forms
IB

19i ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

only. The sirloin has an upper and under cut, about which tastes
differ. It is therefore usual to begin with the upper or thicker side.
The joint must lie with its chine-bone towards the left, and its flap
to the right of the carver. It must be held steady by inserting the
fork near the flat-bone. (It may here be remarked, that in all
carving the fork should never be left sticking in the meat, but with-
drawn with the knife ; nor should it ever be stuck in perpendicularly
and grasped with the whole hand. ) One long deep cut must then
be made across the joint close to the chine-bone. The outside is
next sliced off from the chine-bone to the flap, and you then proceed
to cut the meat in very thin slices in the same direction. A slice
of the fat on the flap must be given with each helping. If the
under cut is asked for, you must carefully turn the joint so as not
to splash the gravy — another of the fearful responsibilities of carv-
ing— and then cut the meat across in thick slices. A round of beef
is easily carved till you come to the skewers, and then agony com-
mences ; and what with the impossibility of drawing them out with
the hand, the difficulty of doing so with the fork, and the quivering
looseness of the joint when the arrow is at last extracted from its
wretched flesh, a round with a round of beef is a more trying com-
bat than successive rounds with the cook who skewered, the butler
who served, and the host who compelled you to carve it. However,
let us hope for the best ; there is good in all, even skewers ; and let
us, inserting our fork firmly into the enemy's side, cut his brown top
off with a horizontal slice of our long sharp steel — the longer and
sharper the better for this joint, and proceed to torture him by
making a succession of very thin slices, of which one is enough for
any guest, except an alderman.

Boiled beef is more favored at dining-houses in the City than at
company dinners at the West End. The side is cut in very thin
slices, which should be as broad and as long as the joint itself, if
you can cut them so.

Mutton appears generally in three forms. The saddle is the best

HINTS ON caving. 195

joint, and is best cut in very thin slices close to the back-bone ; or
you may slice it horizontally from the tail to the c^Jiev c u v;' or
again slanting from the backbone towards the fat, so that each
slice shall carry its own end of fat. A shoulder of mutton must lie
with the knuckle towards your right, and the blade -bone towards
your left. In the middle of the edge of the part farthest from you
place the fork, and there give one sharp dexterous cut from the
edge to the bone. The meat then liies open, and you proceed to
cut rather thick slices on each side of the opening till you can cut
no more. You may then cut three or four slices from the centre -
bone to the end, and if there are more mouths to be filled, of which
your own, of course, will be one, you must turn the joint over and
slice the under side. The same shoulder of mutton is a disgrace to
a sheep, for do what you will, you can never get enough off it.
Much more satisfactory is the animal's leg. In the bosom of your
own family, when funds are low and butcher's bills high, the best
plan is to begin at the knuckle, cutting across in thick slices, and
so on to the top. But if your wife puts up with a knuckle slice
your guests will not, and in company you must therefore begin in
the middle. The knuckle should point towards your left. You
then cut from the side farther from you towards yourself, thus
opening the joint in the middle, and proceed to take thin slices on
the right, which some people prefer, and thick slices towards the
knuckle. The little tuft of fat near the thick end is a delicacy, and
must be distributed as such.

The lamb, disturbed in its gambols, furnishes our ruthless appe-
tites with two quarters (a fore and a hind), a saddle, which is carved
like a saddle of its elder relative, mutton, and a loin which must be
divided into chops. The fore quarter consists of a shoulder, a
breast, and the ribs, which are served without separation, and the
carver has therefore the pleasure of turning butcher for the time.
This he does by placing the knife under the shoulder, drawing it
horizontally, and so removing the shoulder altogether. This limb

196 ACCOATLISHMENTS .

is generally placed oat a separate dish, and carved like a shoulder of
mutton. ZTsa nave then to cut off the breast, and finally separate
the ribs. The hind quarter consists of a leg* and a loin, the former
being cut across, the latter lengthways.

Veal gives us a head, breast, and fillet. If the first of these ap-
pears in its normal form, not having been boned and rolled, you
must cut it down the centre in rather thin slices on each side. The
meat round the eye, a delicacy, may be scooped out. A small piece
of the palate and the accompanying sweetbread must be sent on
each plate. A fillet of veal is simply cut in slices, which must not
be too thin ; and the stuffing in the centre should be helped with a
spoon. In a breast of veal the ribs should be first separated from
the brisket, after which either or both may be sent round.

Boast pork is not often seen on good tables. When it appears it is
as easy to carve as a leg of mutton, but the slices should be thicker
and not so large. Two very small slices are enough for an epicure ;
let those who like it eat more. The best part of roast pork is the
crackling, if it has been roasted with buttered paper over it. Boiled
pork, like boiled mutton, is only to be tolerated for the sake of its
proper accompaniments, but the taste for pease-pudding, unlike that
for caper sauce, can only be acquired by a long residence in this
country. Both these joints are carved like a roasted leg of mutton.
The waiter at a hotel, who, when a Hebrew gentleman ordered
a pork chops" considerately and delicately returned with poached
eggs, was a man of taste as well as of breeding, and knew that it
takes much to make pork palatable. Not so, however, with ham
and bacon, which are meats to warm the cockles of the heart, even
of a Pharisee of the Pharisees, and while to enjoy the former one
would always be rich, one could be content to be poor for the
sake of the latter. Alas ! because bacon is a poor man's luxury,
the rich, or their vulgar cooks, will never admit it, or very rarely.
It must be cut as thin as a lady's veil, and in delicate long strips
rather than slices. A ham may be cut in three ways, by beginning

HINTS ON CARVING. 197

either at the knuckle, which must be turned toward your left, and
slicing in a slanting* direction ; or at the thick end, which is then
turned to your left; or, in the commonest manner, like a leg of
mutton, across the centre. In any case it must be cut in very thin,
delicate slices, such as the waiters of now defunct Vauxhall won
their fame for, and such as, to this day, few people but the owner
of a London cook-shop can achieve. One small slice is enough as
an accompaniment to a helping of fowl or veal.

Last of the joints comes their best, the haunch of Venison. To
carve this the knuckle should be turned towards your right hand,
and above it a rapid cross cut made. A cut lengthways from the
other end to the cross cut should divide the meat about the middle,
and slices of moderate thickness are thfcn to be taken on each side
of the long cut ; those on the left are the best, having the most fat
about them.

You are now wishing that edible animals grew like pillows, to be
sliced up like roly-poly puddings, and would dispense for ever with
the inconvenience of limbs, legs, shoulders, saddles, haunches, loins,
sirloins, breasts, ribs, fore-quarters and hind- quarters. But you
cannot have everything. If meat grew on trees it would not be
worth eating ; it is the exercise of the animal which makes it tender
and savory ; while, on the other hand, the best meat is generally
that nearest to the bone. The only riddle which Sir Edward Lytton
was ever guilty of perpetrating was this : "Why is a cat's taste
better than a dog's ? Because the dog's is bon (bone) but the cat's
is mieax (mew)." With all deference to Sir Edward, I must give
my opinion that the dog has the best taste of all animals, which he
displays in his preference for bones, well knowing that the meat
nearest to them is always the most savory.

However this may be, you have not done yet ; indeed, you have
the worst to come, and taere is fresh torture for the carver in —

4. Animals served wliole. You may perhaps master a Rabbit, be-
cause he may be treated like Damien, who was broken on the wheel,

108 ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

by removing the legs and shoulders with a sharp -pointed knife, and
then breaking his back in three or four pieces by pressing the knife
across it and pushing the body up against it with the fork, bat when
you come to that long, thin, dark, and scraggy animal, which, with its
crisp delicate ears sticking up, and the large sockets where its eyes
once were, looks like roasted bottle-imp rather than roasted Hare,
what are you to do, unless the cook has been skilful enough to bone
it for you ? You must first take care that your knife has a sharp
strong point to it, and therewith, having the head of the hare to-
wards your left, you will cut off the legs, — to wit, the hind legs,
for carving and natural history differ in this matter, the latter as-
serting that the hare is a quadruped, the former that it has only
two legs, and two " wings." You will then cut two long thin slices
off each side of the back ; then take off the " wings" or shoulders;
then break the back into four pieces with the aid of the fork ; then
cut off the ears, and lastly, turning the head towards you with the
under side uppermost, insert the point of the knife exactly in the
centre of the palate, and drawing it to the nose, thus divide it into
two parts. If you do all this without splashing the gravy, you may
take your degree in carving. But to help a hare is more diplomatic
still than to carve it. The difficulty is to find enough for everybody
who wants it. The best parts are the slices from the back, the
head and ears. Never, however, send head or ears to a lady.
There is a good reason for this, which I won't tell you. But if there
is a minister in office at table, and you want to ask him for a place,
or there is a father whose daughter's hand you aspire to, or an uncle
who may possibly leave you a legacy, it is for him that you reserve
half the face, and one if not both ears. If he be at all a gourmet,
you will get his ear by sending him puss's, and the delicate brain of
the animal will fully compensate for a want of it in your own head.
A fowl, if not in its premiere jeunesse, is more irritating still than
a hare, because you feel that when you have done your best, the
flesh is not worth eating, except at supper. There are two ways of

HINTS ON CARVING. 199

beginning. Either take the leg, wing, and part of breast off with
one cut, after having laid the bird on its side ; or, allowing it to re-
main on its back, with the breast and wings towards you, and the legs
away from you, insert the knife in the side of tlje breast above the
leg, and bring it down to the joint of the wing, which is thus re-
moved with a slice of the breast. The liver wing, which lies to
your right, is the best, and should be taken off first. This done,
insert the knife just at the turn of the breast, bring it down, and
you have the merry-thought. The meat of the breast is then easily
sliced off, the legs having been turned back with the fork. The
side-bones come off next, in a moment, if you insert the knife or
fork in the right place, viz. , under the angular joint, and turn them
out. The back is then broken by lifting it with the fork against
the pressure of the knife, and lastly, the sides are removed. The
wing, breast, and merry-thought are the best pieces ; the legs and
sides are insulting. The great point in carving a fowl is to do it
tpiickly, and with the fork as much as, if not more than, the knife.

A partridge is carved like a fowl, but the legs being joined, are
simply turned back with the knife before the operation commences.
A pheasant is carved like a fowl. Pigeons are not carved at all, but
cut in two down the middle ; the eater kindly saving the carver any
further trouble. Snipe is treated in the same way, and smaller birds
are always sent round one to each person.

Of a goose or a t urkey we are told it is " vulgar " to cut more than
the breast, but there can be no vulgarity in making a good dinner,
and in the family circle you will be obliged to apply to the wings
and legs. However, for company, slices of the breast suffice. The
same thing is said of the wild-duck, that best of birds ; but we did
not think so at Oxford, where we never left anything more than
their carcasses. The most productive bird is the Scotch and Swe-
dish capercailzie. I have known one satisfy fourteen large appetites
one day, three heavy eaters the second, and what with hashing,
grilling, devilling, and picking, last the original purchaser a whole

200 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

week for breakfast afterwards. It might perhaps be "vulgar "to
carve such a bird as that ; little less so than offering a lady a leg of
ostrich.

CHAPTER VI.

FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

An English lady without her piano, or her pencil, or her fancy
work, or her favorite French authors and German poets, is an ob-
ject of wonder, and perhaps of pity. Music, the cultivation of which
was, at one time, severely censured as being carried to excess, has
now become a national want. Painting, and even modelling, are not
only pursued in the quiet of home, they furnish subjects for an
amateur exhibition. No woman can be wholly fitted as a member of
society, unless she can dance well ; and to work neatly and skilfully
at fancy work is one of the attributes of good female society.

We are not, we English, a nation of talkers ; naturally, our talent
is for silence. The few who distinguished themselves in conversa-
tional powers have died out among us, and their places will never,
we have every reason to believe, be filled up.

" The seat is vacant — whereon Conversation
Sharpe gave forth such studied bon mots,"

or culled from the treasures of his vast memory the titbits oi old
authors. Lady Morgan who, as she " circulated" through a party,
to use her own expression, delighted both wise and simple, by her
ever ready flow of words, and richness of anecdote and repartee, is
gone and her throne is vacant.

The salon, which she collected around her, was, in its capacity of
passing hours in talking, more French than English ; she its centre.

MUSIC. 201

We shall never see the like again ; the world is too large, and we are
too rich. Eloquence, even, went out with metal buttons and white
waistcoats : the House of Commons is only bored by it now ; the
Lords are proud and thankful to say they never encouraged it. Elo-
quence, which is to conversation what the garden flower is to the
wild flower, the hot-house grape to the poor sour thing that grows
on the cottage walls — eloquence, which is but condensed conversa-
tion, with all the essence of many minds in one, is regarded in these
practical days only as an interruption.

It therefore becomes more and more essential that there should
be some talent to supply the want of good conversation. And, for
that end, there is nothing like music.

Music is, I repeat, the substitute, and the only one, for conversa-
tional powers. It has its merits in that light. Conversation some-
times aggravates temper : music soothes it. Conversation chal-
lenges reply : music gives no answer. Conversation is the rock of
peril to the impudent : they can scarcely, in playing or singing, com-
mit an indiscretion. In talking, again, one may lose a friend, or
even make an enemy. Music, is, therefore, an excellent source of
amusement for many occasions, and is become almost indispensable
to those who have frequently parties to receive. A lively waltz, or
a soft movement, carefully played, even without that great execution
which compels listening, are often aids to conversation : it flows the
more easily from that slight and agreeable interruption. It has in-
deed, still greater advantages : this world of ours has its work and its
troubles ; a parent or husband may leave home from either or from
both, to find a solace in music, which changes the current of his ideas.
A brother may be almost made domestic by the cheerful notes,
which he finds pass the evening almost as rapidly as the club, or
Jullien's, or the theatre. Few persons are wholly devoid of a capa-
city for enjoying music, and even, if not gifted with any great natural
taste, a love of the art may almost be engrafted on the nature by
early associations. And those associations, too, have their value.

202 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

The air that brings back home -born thoughts, brings back in some
degree the absent, the kind, the forbearing, the loving, the honored.

The piano still keeps its pre-eminence as the instrument best
fitted for society. The harp, it is to be regretted, has for some years
ceased to be fashionable ; perhaps the greater attention, in modern
times, to physical education has banished the harp from the school-
room. There is every risk of the practising on this instrument pro-
ducing curvature of the spine ; whereas the piano, from exercising
both hands at a time, and from the straight posture it requires, is
useful to those disposed to such curvatures. Duets on the harp and
piano are, nevertheless, very delightful ; and they used to produce a
good effect in a large room, when two sisters, or a professional lady
and her young pupil, a daughter of the house, opened the evening's
amusement with one of those exquisite Italian airs, set by Bochsa
or Chatterton. Simple melodies, sung to the harp, are still very ef-
fective in society from their variety. A harp requires a large room ;
it should be played with feeling and grace, or it becomes very un-
pleasant, like the jingling of a hired band. It requires stout nerves,
certainly, for the display necessary to execute an air on the harp,
perched on a high stool, and forming a pleasing object, as well as be-
ing the vehicle of sweet sounds to the whole company.

The guitar makes a graceful variety ; but is more appropriate to
a man's than to a woman's playing. It is monotonous, and soon fa-
tigues the attention ; but, being easily portable, is often a resource in
places and on occasions where a piano cannot be had.

The same may be said of the zitter, one of the sweetest and most
touching of string instruments ; but still, except for the occasional
playing of Tyrolean minstrels, unknown in this country. It is of
Bavarian origin, and is the oldest instrument known. Its' plaintive
and appealing sounds are heard in Alpine chalets, or by the forester'9
fireside, as well as in the country revels of the inhabitants of Vienna,
Innspruck, and Munich. It is exquisite as an accompaniment of the
voice ; it is cheap and portable. A good zitter may be obtained for

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. 203

thirty shillings or two pounds. It is flat, and takes up little room,
and should be placed horizontally on a table, without a cover. It
requires, however, time and much practice to bring out those thrill-
ing tones, at once so touching and so peculiar. The most eminent
professors in Germany speak highly of the powers of this small in-
strument, and say that it produces notes nearer to those of the human
voice than any other. Yet it is not calculated for large concerts : we
English must have noise and show. The zitter is an instrument for
the boudoir, for lovers in a bower, for the poet in his turret, for the
devotee to all that is soft, romantic, and unsophisticated.

It seems scarcely needful to point to the violin and violoncello as
instruments unsuitable to young ladies ; yet there have been women
who have successfully cultivated both, to the great credit of their
perseverance, and the great detriment of their feminine attractions.
The concertina is, however, a beautiful and not inappropriate instru-
ment, though I confess the inelegance of the attitude required much
lessens the sentiment inspired by the beautiful tones of the con-
certina.

Nothing requires greater judgment, if not some experience of so-
ciety, than the selection of pieces to play in company. " Oh ! how
my head ached last night !" cries an old lady; "we had a piece
six pages long ! " Some ladies sit down (as it seems) with an inten-
tion of u giving it rein" for their hearers. Through passage after
passage, volleys of black notes are made to speak, and, as page after
page is turned over by a zealous friend, the young musician labors
at it, and does herself justice, and her hearers a wrong : for a long
piece is as bad as a long story, and neither are fitted for society.
A short, perhaps brilliant, thoroughly well-learned air or movement
by some good master, is the best response to the often put question,"
' ' Will you play something ? " The loud, thumping style should be
avoided : if possible, the piece should not be quite common and
hackneyed; not what u every one" plays. It should not be too
mournful, nor too rapid. On sitting down to the piano, it is very

204 FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

offensive to hear a young lady find fault with the instrument, or
complain that it is out of tune — a proof either that her temper is
out of tune, or that she wishes to impress on you the superiority of
her ear, which detects the defect, to yours, which has stupidly
overlooked it. All self-assertion, be it about music, or singing", or
dancing, or anything, is unpleasant, and always seen through.
There is a certain art, too, in sitting at the piano : all movements of
the body should be avoided : well-bred people play without them,
and they are unpleasant to those sitting behind. Be ready also to
quit the instrument after finishing : in some cases, when once seated,
ladies seem to be glued to the piano, and however fascinating may
be their efforts, it is bad policy to wear your audience out. Then
another hint to the amateur musician : be lenient, at all events, and
encouraging, if you can, to others. There is no need to flatter ; but
great reason, especially to those who play well, to be amiable on
this, as on other points. A little kindliness, a polite attention to the
feelings of others, wins many a friend ; for we are governed by the
trifles of life.

Almost every well-educated lady can play a little ; but that is not
the case in respect to vocal music. Whether it be owing to English
climate or English constitution, there is no saying ; but there is noth-
ing more rare than a good voice. It may, however, provided the ear
be good, be almost acquired ; but then the best instruction must be
obtained ; a dozen good lessons, taken not too soon, but whenever
the voice is formed, and the young lady plays well, are far more bene-
ficial than a lorjg course of inferior teaching. It is important that a
young lady should not begin to sing in society too soon ; it is ob-
jectionable to hear a learner, whose performance speaks of the
school-room ; it is far worse, however, to be condemned to listen to
a voice that is passed, of which the best notes are cracked or fee-

blo ; and there is something absurd in hearing a stout matron —

%

1 ' A mother with her daughters or her nieces,
Looking like a guinea, with her seven shilling pieces."

SINGING. ' 205

as Byron impertinently has it — singing' with bygone emphasis
about love ; or a thin spinster, of forty or more, holding forth in such
songs as " I'll watch for thee," or, "Don't forget me." Instrumen-
tal music is appropriate to any age, but after forty the voice loses
the delicious freshness of youth, the style is no longer that of the
day, and even the finest amateur vocal performers have lost some-
thing, we scarcely know what, but something we miss painfully.

When asked to sing, if you do not intend to do so, refuse so
decidedly that you cannot be compelled ; but the more decided the
refusal, the gentler should the manner be. There is a style of saying1
" No," that never offends. You are asked as a compliment; as a
compliment receive the entreaty. If you intend to sing, accept at
once ; do not hurry up to the piano, as if glad of an opportunity of
showing off, but go gently ; if by request you have brought your
music, and it should never be brought to those who know that you
sing without request, leave it down stairs ; it can be sent for ; but,
since all pauses in society are to be avoided, if you can sing without
notes it is as well ; at the same time, never attempt to do so unless
sure of yourself. A half -forgotten or imperfect song is irritating.
Something light and brilliant is best for a commencement, or a little
air not too well known — German, perhaps. For the sake of all the
Muses, do not attempt a long Italian bravura of Verdi or Donizetti,
that, perhaps, half the company have heard Garcia or Piccolomini
sing1 the week before ; you must murder it to ears so artistic as
theirs. Or if you are singing to a homely audience, the simplest
song will please them better. The difference between a professional
and an amateur singer should always be kept in view. The one is
constrained by interest to astonish ; the other has no other induce-
ment than to charm. The one is purchased, the other is a volun-
tary effort to pass away time, and to do justice to the composition
of some of the popular masters of the day.

The form and movements of the body must be habitually con-
trolled in singing. In nine cases out of ten they spoil the effect of

20 G FEMININE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

the voice. Some ladies bend from side to side, cast up their eyes,
or fix them, with a rapt expression, on the wax-lights above them.
Others make alarming faces, protrude the under jaw, or, what is
worse, assume an affected smile. A good master suffers none of
these defects to creep in. He regulates the mouth, which should be
as little drawn as possible ; open it must be, but should appear to
have an inclination to smile, without the absolute smile. A great
deal depends on the right mode of bringing out the voice. I confess
it is a great sacrifice to see one's friends look frightful, even when
giving out the most delicious sounds ; nor is it essential. In the
choice of songs, variety is to be adopted. German music pleases,
generally; but, let no one not conversant with the right pronuncia-
tion of any foreign language, sing in it ; there is nothing so unpleasant
as to hear broad French, mincing German, or lisping Italian. Even
in English, a good accent is the most essential thing possible ; and,
also, a good articulation. A simple song, sung without great
powers of voice, but well articulated, delights, because it touches
the understanding to which it appeals, and gratifies the ear which
approves the modest and careful effort of art. Witness the extreme
pleasure, amounting to enthusiam, afforded by the singing of the
poet Moore. He had no compass of voice; what he had was
musical, but not eminently so ; but his singing captivated from the
clearness with which every word was uttered; the way in which
every word told ; the easy, natural manner of the poet at the piano.
On one occasion, Mrs. Billington being in one room, and Moore in
another, of some great London house, crowds flocked around the
poet, whose touching tones even drew them from the florid sing-
ing of the nightingale of her day. The same effect was produced by
the singing of the late Mrs. Lockhart, the daughter of Sir Walter
Scott, to the harp. She generally sang her father's poetry, set to
music. Her taste, her feeling, and truth of expression, riveted the
attention, though her voice had little power. The French excel in
this species of intellectual singing, if one may use such a word.

WORKING. 207

but theirs is chiefly professional. Who can ever forget Madame
Jenny Denner's "Ma Tante," or Levassor's uVie cle campagne"?
Yet neither had the average amount of vocal powers of a village
chorister.

After finishing one song, a lady should rise from the piano, even
if she be brought back again and again. Some ladies are so aware
what great injustice they do themselves by being induced to sing too
much, that they make a rule of only singing two songs at a party ;
but all set rules in society are bad. Nothing, however, can be worse
than to go on from song to song, till admiration and even patience
are exhausted, and politeness is driven to her wit's end to be civil.
Of course, it is almost needless to say that sacred songs should be
avoided in parties. I doubt whether any of the deeper feelings
should be paraded on light occasions, and if songs truly mournful
are not better reserved for small reunions of the real lovers of deep
pathos in music.

All accomplishments have the one great merit of giving a lady
something to do ; something to preserve her from ennui ; to console
her in seclusion ; to arouse her in grief ; to compose her to occupa-
tion in joy. And none answers this purpose much better than fancy
work, or even plain work. The former can often be brought advan-
tageously into the rear of other pursuits — as a reserve. The latter
cannot well be carried into society, except as a charity. The Ger-
mans do this gracefully. At some of their courts the great set the
example. During Lent, at Munich, they have working parties. The
queen made a baby's shirt, one evening, when one of these reunions
was held in the apartments of her grande maitresse. The king,
meantime, was pulling lint for the hospitals. Every lady of the
court had some useful article before her ; warm shawls made with
the crochet-needle ; stockings knitted ; dresses, chiefly for children,
from their being small. Such are the labors that employ on certain
evenings the court and nobility of a nation whose aristocracy is
among the most ancient and still the richest in Europe. And con

208 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

versation went round cheerfully. Little tables were set about, and
the assemblage was broken up into parties, each table holding a lady
or two, with a gentleman near her. A terrible waste of time in
small parties would, indeed, be avoided, if some sort of work could
be introduced ; and, if young ladies were not condemned to be idle
for several hours, they would look better, and be happier, more
amiable, and less fatigued than they often are at what is facetiously
termed a "friendly party." Not that it is recommended to take
into a party your husband's stockings to mend, or dear Charles's
shirts, over which he was naturally so irritable at the absence oi
buttons, or Louisa's pinafores to run strings into ; let the work have
the characteristics of recreation combined with utility, and the
most scrupulous cannot be offended. Such is indeed the spirit of
the day ; for we are a more sensible people than our grandsires
were.

Sketching and archery stand first among out-door amusements.
They are healthy, elegant, and appropriate to the feminine charac-
ter ; wnile — first thought of mammas ! — they assemble rather than
exclude the younger members of the other sex.

CHAPTER VII.

MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

True politeness comes from the heart, and this being good, the
rest will soon follow. But, as Chesterfield says, " good sense and
good nature suggest civility in general, but in good breeding there
are a thousand little delicacies, which are established only by cus-
tom." That which militates most against good breeding is an in-
difference to or want of consideration for the feelings of others j

MANNER AND THE HEART. 209

and what does this amount to but a bad heart ? A courtier may
hate me with civility, and a brigand rob me politely. Is there not
some good in the heart of both these men ? Have they not a great
consideration for my feelings ? They cannot, they would tell me,
help what they do ; I stand in this one's way, and he must and does
hate me ; I have a purse and the other is a robber, he must and will
take it ; but both of them, compelled to treat me so ill, do it with a
grace that removes half the annoyance of it. The courtier con-
ceals his hatred, and what therefore do I care for it ? I do not
even know of its existence, and a passion which we never discover
cannot affect us. Then, too, if the highwayman politely and deli-
cately i t invites " me >to give up those few paltry bank-notes, assur-
ing me it is his "profession," that he laments the necessity, and that
if I show no fight, no violence will be used, I have at least the com-
fort of being saved from a fright, of being allowed free speech, of
being given the option to fight or yield, so that when I come to
think how much an agreeable manner may do to console and concili-
ate, I don't know whether I could accuse my worst enemy of a want
of heart, if he behaved like a gentleman to me. However, I am
convinced that if a man had not a good only, but a perfect heart, if
all his attention were directed to the comfort of others, and he was
willing perpetually to make the sacrifice necessary to insure it, he
would need little or no instruction in manners more than a little ex-
perience. He would soon discover how this act or that gave offence
or caused embarrassment to his neighbor ; and while he saw nothing
wrong in it himself, would, for his neighbor's sake, avoid it for the
future. He himself might see no harm in using a tooth-pick at
dinner, but he would soon see the obnoxiousness of it reflected in
opposite faces, and down would go the tooth -pick. Give such a
man, ill-bred, even unbred naturally, the time and the opportunity,
and he would turn out a gentleman. But first, where do you find
this perfect consideration for others, this brotherly love, for it is
nothing else, which descends to the minutest details, and feels
14

210 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

within itself the vibration of every chord too rudely struck in other
hearts ? Alas, where ? Or, given the heart, how are you to insure
the experience ? Meanwhile, in waiting for hearts and experiences,
society grows depraved. It is for this reason that we set up laws of
etiquette, as it is called — but laws of Christian action we might call
them — to insist upon the show of that which ought to come spon-
taneously from the heart. In doing so, we merely copy lawgivers of
another kind. Honesty is not honesty, for instance, if it come not
from within. The most respectable man might be dishonest if he
had the chance, and no fear of the law. Nevertheless the law un-
dertakes to make men appear honest, because it knows that it is in
vain to wait for honesty in heart. The law tells the young thief he
must rob no more, and it may cure him of thieving and make him
turn out a respectable man — in appearance ; but it cannot be sure,
because he does not thieve, that he has no internal desire to do so,
and would not do so if the fear of the law were gone. So too, in
just the same way, the laws of society give rules by which a man
may be amiable and well-bred — to all appearance ; but it cannot a
whit the more insure the good feeling which ought to suggest the
good acts.

I say then, that because Etiquette lays down rules by which you
are to appear to have a heart, she does nothing worse than the laws
of the realm, which show how you may appear honest, and leave
your heart alone. This preface is necessary, because when I say a
man is to smile at such a time, and show dignity at such another,
the world might tell me I was teaching hypocrisy. I am doing
nothing of the kind. I am merely providing for acts which are
necessary to the well-being of society, because I know that if every
one acted according to his heart, the world would soon be turned
upside-down.

So then I can manfully say that a good manner is a good gift.
We know all about oily serpents, we have read enough of them in
romantic novels, but I am bound to say I prefer an oily serpent, by

MANNER AND THE HEART. 211

way of society, to an unlicked bear. The serpent may not choose
me to bite, I may enjoy his society, I may never discover that he is
anything worse than a harmless blind- worm with no sting in him ;
but I cannot have been a minute with the bear, before I am torn to
pieces. When I hear of the serpent's biting anybody, I can avoid
him for the future, but in the meantime he is an agreeable com-
panion, and I have no right to judge my neighbor. I say then that
a man should curb his heart first, but if he cannot do or has not
done this, he has no right to come bellowing with irritation into the
society of quiet people, merely because he will not take the trouble
to be mannerly.

Manner, then, I am bound to confess, is the cloak of character, but
if to bare the character be indecent, it is better it should wear a
cloak than go about naked. Until we are all perfect, until there is a
millennium on earth, it will always be indecent to wear our feelings
in Adamite costume, and so long will a garment, like that of Man-
ner, be necessary.

A good carriage involves two things, a respect for one's self and a
respect for others. It is very difficult to draw the line between the
two, and to show where the one should yield to the other ; but as
the world goes, the man who respects himself is generally respected,
and for a very good reason, since without a due recognition of the
Divine spark within him, a recognition owed to his Maker, no man
can be really good. On the other side, comes the Christian precept
which bids us love our neighbor as ourself , and at once defines where
self-respect must end. Wherever our dignity, our prejudices, our
opinions begin to annoy our neighbors, to cause them pain, embar-
rassment, or confusion, they must give way. How often do we

hear, u I think Mr. is a very excellent man, but he has a most

disagreeable manner ;" the fact being that Mr. , meaning very

well, has not sufficient consideration for others' feelings to temper
his enthusiasm. And then such a man wins his reward. His zeal
devours him, and he annihilates by want of consideration all the

212 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

good he might have done. We see this very often in excellent, well-
meaning maiden ladies, who undertake the supervision of their
poorer neighbors. Wherever they see a fault, they attack it harshly,
unflinchingly, unpityingly. The result is, that the poor they visit
begin to loathe them and their visits, and instead of improving,
despise the improver. Then send to them some mild untaught
girl, all love, all heart, all warmth, and bid her win them back.
She begins instinctively by attaching them to herself, she is all in-
terest, all kindness to them, and when she has made their hearts
her own, the least expression of a wish will make them give up
their dearest vices. How well has it been put, ' ' Smooth the way
to the head through the heart," and we may be sure that what is
good here in morals is good in manners. Rudeness will never win
the day ; an amiable, kind manner rides over the course.

The first rule, then, for Manner, is self-respect. Without this, a
man is not only weak and bad, but unfit for society. The want of
it shows itself in two most disagreeable forms, adulation and awk-
wardness. I believe both to have no evil intent in themselves.
Hundreds and thousands of flatterers and hangers-on have never
hoped to gain a single benefit from their adulation. It is simple
weakness ; simple absence of self-respect. But the world will not
always see it in so charitable a point of view, and the flatterer is
denounced as interested. In any case, adulation is bad, for it is dan-
gerous not only to the servile, but to those to whom it is addressed.
Awkwardness may often arise from shyness, but more often is the
fruit of a want of self-respect. Both are to be sedulously avoided.

On the other hand, self-respect is liable to err on the side of dig-
nity, and self-respect is only one step removed from self-esteem.
The one is a vice ; the other a virtue. Self-respect is the acknowl-
edgment of manhood, of the good soul God has given you to take
care of, of the part He has given you to play in life. Self-esteem
is an arrogance of superiority in these points. In the young it takes
the form of conceit ; in the older, of stateliness ;. in the woman, of

SELF-RESPECT AND SELF-ESTEEM. 213

vanity. We pardon it most readily in middle-aged men, and yet I
think that the oppressive, damping dignity of some of these is de-
structive of all ease in society. When Paterfamilias asserts his
rights, standing with his coat-tails spread before the fire, which he
hides from everybody else, we cannot, dare not object openly, but
we certainly feel chilled, inwardly by his solemn dignity, and out-
wardly by the deprivation of caloric. Scarcely less chilling is the
arrogance of the younger man, who can scarcely condescend to con-
verse with us ; who brings his superior information down upon our
humble opinions, like an avalanche on an Alpine village ; who con-
tradicts us flatly, and sneers us into insignificance. Conversation
becomes impossible, and society is deadened, under such influences.

More innocent, but not less contemptible, is the affectation which
arises from incipient, often from full-grown, vanity. In men it is
simply contemptible, because effeminate ; and the youth who pur-
posely lisps or minces his words, or the silky young curate who
has, by dint of practice, forced down his natural voice into a low,
but as Anna Maria asserts, most thrilling whisper; or the dilettante
in music, whose hair hangs in profuse curls, and who, as he runs
fat, white, be-ringed fingers over the notes, sways his body to and
fro, and casts his glances to either side in a kind of rapture ; nay,
even the unnaturally solemn man, who looks you through as if he
were casting up your little account of sin for you, together with a
thousand other kinds of men, are all too obviously affected to re-
tain long the respect of sensible people. We know that nature has
its many faults to be curbed, but we know that where nature is not
at fault, it is most truthful to let her have her run. By the side of
the affected man, even the bluntest looks noble, and for the very
reason that affectation arises from a want of self-respect or excess
of self-esteem, extremes which resemble one another.

But I would almost dare to say that there never was a woman who
had not more or less affectation in speaking to men. I am not a St.
Anthony, but I believe it to be natural to woman to alter their manner

214 MANNER, CAREIAGE, AND HABITS.

towards the other sex ; so that I involve myself in a paradox ; it is
natural for them to be unnatural under these circumstances. I am
not going into the logic of it, but really this is only an apparent par-
adox, and I may say with perfect truth that it is natural for women
to be sometimes unnatural. If you doubt me, watch how Clara, the
simplest, sweetest, least sophisticated of her sex, talks to you, a
man. Then put on the invisible cap and follow her to the drawing-
room, where she and her sisters will sit alone and talk. If you see
no marked change of manner in Clara, I will admit that I am
wrong.

But then there are grades in woman's affectation, and while Clara
seems to be all " nature," as they say in modern novels, we can
exclaim at first sight that Belinda " is a mass of tarlatan and affec-
tation." My dear Belinda, take in good part the warning of an old
bachelor. Believe me that men who are worth your arrows will not
be smitten with tinsel shafts ; believe me that the better they are,
the more they love nature in women, artlessness, frankness, mod-
esty. But then there is even an affectation of naturalness, and you,
Clarissa, who are past five-and-twenty — O yes, I know it, for your
little brother let it out ! — feel that you never can be really natural
again in society, and so you affect to be so, by becoming brusque
and somewhat pert. Men, Clarissa, are not such fools as you im-
agine ; they will see through this even more easily, and there is no
hope for you, but to be with them what you are before your own
looking-glass. But I am trespassing on the province of my colleague,
and I must return, very loath, to the men.

Let me give a few samples of manner to be avoided. First, there
is Tibbs, short enough and clever enough to be a great man, and
such, I dare say, he will be one of these days. But Tibbs feels
within him the spirit of governance, and has reverence for neither
old nor young. He walks with a short, sharp step, his little nose
rather elevated, his eyes glaring to detect some weakness on which
to pounce. You put forward an opinion, the meekest you can give :

EXAMPLES OF BAD MANNER. 215"

"It will turn out fine." " Beg your pardon," answered Tibbs, with
that sharp snap, which makes the words sound like "Don't be a
fool ! " "it will not be a fine day. I have good reason to know it,
there." What can you do with Tibbs, but collapse? He treats his
father and grandfather, and mother and sister, all in the same way,
and they are cowed before him. Tibbs is never downrightly rude.
You cannot, catch him up and call him a bear ; but his manner of
speaking continually conveys the impression that Tibbs believes in
his own acuteness only, and in nobody else's. He is the kind of
man who can open Shakspere, read a passage, and exclaim, "Did
you ever hear such nonsense? " giving you good reasons forsooth, if
poets arjd philosophers could be measured by the lowest standard of
the driest common sense. Tibbs is all common sense, but by no
means a pleasant companion.

Very different is old Mr. Dawdles. He seems to be in a state of
chronic plethora. Say what you will on his dearest themes, he has
no reply for you but a yes or no snivelled out. When he speaks
himself, he appears to be grumbling at you, however kind his
words. You knew he is good and means very well, and he would
give you half his fortune out of sheer kindness, but with a gesture
and tone of voice which would seem to say, ' ' There, take it, and
don't make a fuss." He does hate a fuss, more than all other
abominations.

There is Slouch, again, whom I believe to be an incarnation of
honor and uprightness, but who gives you the idea of a sneak and a
villain. He never looks you full in the face. His shaggy brows
hang over his lurking eyes, and his words come cautiously and sus-
piciously wriggling up to you.

But Pompous has the best of hearts. He has been known to go
out of his way for miles to leave a little something with a poor
widow. And how the man wrongs himself ! He is very tall, and
has a fine figure. He draws himself up to the greatest height, and
looks down on you as if you were a Lilliput, and all the while he

216 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

loves you but is ashamed to show it. He orders his wife and ser-
vants about with a calm imperiousness which makes them dread
him, and yet they all acknowledge they never knew a kinder man,
though I never yet saw a smile of pity or sympathy on his face.

Far less admirable is that weak young Fitzwhiskers, who holds his
head so very high, and walks down the room with a curled lip,
which seems to say, ' c What scum you all are ! " Then there is
Commodus, an agreeable man, if you can keep him within bounds.
He sits down quietly enough and you are pleased, but in two min-
utes he is making the freest possible remarks, with no harm, no
intentional offence in them, but yet so intolerably familiar for a
man you have known but five minutes, that they quite upset you.
Only the other day I rashly introduced him to a young lady, and she
afterwards told me how he had begun : ' ' Were you at the opera
last night ? " This was politely and quietly asked. "No." " How
very fortunate for those who were there ! Those eyes would have
singed a dozen hearts."

But Vivax is one of the worst. He talks atrociously loud;
hails you from the other end of the table. ' ' Will trouble you for
that, ha, ha ! and for this, ho, ho ! " and " Have you been dancing,
Miss Smith? ha, ha! Then of course you have, Miss Jones ? he,
he ! and what do you say to it, Mrs. Brown?" and he is round the
whole circle, from one to another, in two minutes, not waiting for
answers. Then he bustles about ; he must always have something
on hand. He drags you here one minute, and rushes away from
you the next. He talks as rapidly as an auctioneer, and rattles over
a dozen subjects in as many minutes. He is quick and clever, but
when he has jerked out his own thought, he clinches it with a ha,
ha ! or a he, he ! and never waits for your answer.

Giumme is just the reverse. You must do all the talking for
him ; he will only drawl out a u No-o-o," or a " Ye-e-es," and wears
a perpetual scowl.

Then there is Trippet, who seizes you by the button -hole, and

EXAMPLES OTT BAD MANNER. 217

grows hot over the merest trifle; Courte, who replies with a sharp
sneer; Sterne, who has forever a look of reproof, though he does
not mean it ; Fidgette, who can never be prevailed upon to be com-
fortable ; Bluff, who terrifies you with his curt blunt manner ; and
Lackadaye, who is so languid that he cannot take the trouble even
to look at you. One genius whom I knew never removed his eyes
from the lamp on the table ; another rushed up to you, seized both
your hands, and gazed with apparent affection into your eyes; a
third spoke deep truths in a low, solemn tone, as he gazed at a spot
on the carpet ; a fourth moved his head to and fro, as if to avoid
your gaze : and a fifth, the greatest of all, never spoke at all.

The manner, in short, which a man must aspire to, is one which
will give ease, and not embarrassment, to others. He must preserve
a certain dignity, but yet be pliant ; he must be open, frank ; look
you honestly in the face, speak out confidently, yet calmly ; mod-
estly, yet firmly ; not be bluff or blunt, but yet be free and simple.
In fact, let a man be natural, let him be in society what he is any-
where; but if he find his natural manner too rough, too loud, too
curt, or too brutal, let him learn to tame it and calm it down.

But manner has various functions for various circumstances.
Towards our elders and superiors, we must show an honest, not ser-
vile deference ; towards women, gentleness ; towards juniors tender-
ness; towards inferiors, a simple dignity, without condescension.
Aristotle, who was perhaps a better philosopher than gentleman,
recommends a haughtiness to superiors, and graceful freedom to
inferiors. The world is old enough to judge for itself. But when
a man finds that his lively badinage suits a band of merry lissome
girls, he must not be so wild as to rush at Papa with the same kind
of banter. Paterfamilias may give a smile to real wit and laugh at
a good story, but the same trifling which makes his daughters laugh
so ringingly, will only appear to him a familiarity when addressed
to himself. Then, again, the gravity into which you have fallen
when discussing great measures with a philanthropist, will afford no

218 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

satisfaction to the airy mass of tarlatan with whom you dance
soon after. Solomon has said it : there is a time to weep and a
time to laugh. In other words, be you as merry a jester as ever sat
at a king's table, you must not obtrude your unweary mirth at a
visit of condolence; or be you the u most bereaved" of widowers,
you will not bring your tears and sighs to damp the merriment of
social gatherings.

What applies to manner may be transferred in most respects to that
bearing which distinguishes a man in society. But the times change
much in this respect, and the old courteous dignity with which the
beaux of my younger days behaved has given way to a greater ease,
and sometimes, I fear, to too great freedom. I do not know whether
to regret or not the strict courteousness of those times. It often
amounted to affectation ; it was not natural to be ever bowing low,
making set speeches, raising a lady's hands to one's lips, or pressing
one's own upon the region of the heart, but at the same time I re-
gret the lounging familiarity which we see too prevalent among
young men of the present day. There is not in fact sufficient rever-
ence for the fair and the old. Sometimes this, I regret to say, must
be charged to the fault of the former ; and a young lady who talks
slang, or is always with " the men," must expect to find them some-
times abuse her good-nature. But abstracts are ineffective ; let me
come to some details as to the physical carriage of a man.

A certain dignity is the first requisite, but we must 'not expect too
much of it in the young, and we should not emulate the solemnity
of Charles the First, who never laughed. It is a mistake, too, to
suppose that height is necessary for dignity. Chesterfield, the
most polished gentleman of his day, was only five feet seven in
height, and Wellington and Bonaparte, both short men, have never
been accused of want of dignity. But at the same time the assump-
tion of it is more liable to become ridiculous in a short than in a tall
man. Dignity can never go along with a slouching gait, and upright-
ness should be acquired in childhood by gymnastics and ample exer

THE PHYSICAL CARRIAGE. 219

cise. This uprightness, however, should not go to the extent of
curving the back inwards. Tne chest should be expanded, but not
so much as to make ' - a presence. '' The head should be set well
back on the shoulders, but not tossed up nor jerked on one side
with that air of pertness you see in some men. People of height are
often foolish enough to mar it by bending the head forward, where-
as, if carried well, a tall figure is never awkward, even among Lilli-
puts. In standing, the legs ought to be straight, or one of them
bent a little, but not set wide apart. In walking, they should be
moved gently but firmly from the hips, so that the upper part of the
body may remain in the same position. How often from my win-
dow have I been able to mark a man by his wall?: ! One comes
striding stoutly like a captain on quarter-deck; another sham-
bles his feet along the pavement ; a third swings his arms violently ;
a fourth carries them bowed out before him like a dancing
master of the old school; a fifth turns out his huge feet at an
angle of forty-five ; another jerks forward his pointed toes like a
soldier at drill ; another sways his body from side to side ; another
looks almost hump-backed, as he moves heavily on ; one more
saunters listlessly with his hands in his pockets ; this one moves
his arms back behind him, and that one carries them stiff and
straight as iron bars, with his fists clenched like nobs at the end there-
of. The feet must be turned outwards very little indeed ; the arms
should be carried easily and very slightly bent a.t the sides, and in
walking should be moved a little, without swinging them ; and the
shoulders should never be shrugged up. Avoid stiffness on the one
hand, lounging on the other. Be natural and perfectly at your ease,
whether in walking or sitting, and aspire to calm confidence rather
than loftiness.

There is, however, one good habit which must not be overlooked.
You should never speak without a slight smile, or at least a beam of
good will in your eyes, and that to all, whether your equals or infe-
riors. To the latter it is especially necessary, and often wins you

220 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

more love than the most liberal benevolence. But this smile should
not settle into a simper, nor, when you are launched into a conver-
sation, should it interfere with the earnestness of your manner. To
a lady it should be more marked than to a man.

In listening, again, you should manifest a certain interest in what
a person is saying ; and however little worthy of your attention, you
should not show that you think it so by the toss of your head or the
wandering of your eyes. In speaking to any one you should look
them in the face, for the eyes always aid the tongue, but you should
not carry this to the extent of wriggling yourself forward in order to
catch their eyes, if there happen to be another person between you.

It is painful to see the want of ease with which some men sit on
the edge of a chair ; but at the same time the manner in which
others throw themselves back and stretch forward their legs savors
too much of familiarity. You may cross your legs if you like, but
not hug your knees nor your toes. Straddling a chair, and tilting it
up may be pardonable in a bachelors rooms, but not in a lady's
drawing-room. Then, if you carry a walking-stick or umbrella in
the street, you should avoid swinging them violently about, or tuck-
ing them under the arm. Both are dangerous to your neighbors, for
in the one case you may inadvertently strike a person and get into
as great trouble as the individual who was brought up the other day
yor assaulting a woman with a cricket-bat, which he affirmed he
was merely swinging about carelessly ; in the other, the point of
jour stick may run into some unfortunate creature's eye.

Foreigners talk with their arms and hands as auxiliaries to the
voice. The custom is considered vulgar by us calm Englishmen,
and a Parisian, who laughs at our ladies' dressing, will still admit
that our men are udistingues, mats tres distingues." If the face fol-
lows the words, and you allow, without grimacing, your eyes and
smile to express what you are saying, you have no need to act it with
the hands, but, if you use them at all, it should be very slightly and
gracefully, never bringing down a fist upon the table, nor slapping

HABITS. 221

one hand upon another, nor poking your fingers at your interlocutor.
Pointing, too, is a habit to be avoided, especially pointing with the
thumb over the shoulder, which is an inelegant action. In short,
while there is no occasion to be stolid or constrained, you should not
be too lively in your actions, and even if led away by the enthusiasm
of an argument, should never grow loud, rant, or declaim. No
manner is more disagreeable than that of vehement affirmation, or
laying down the law.

With these remarks I may pass to consider certain habits which
are more or less annoying to your neighbors. First, there is that
odious habit of touching the nose and ears with the fingers, for
which there is no excuse. Every part of the person should be
properly tended in the dressing-room, never in the drawing-room,
and for this reason picking the teeth, however fashionable it may
once have been, scratching the head, the hands, or any part of the
body, are to be avoided. Mr. Curzon tells us that at Erzeroum it is
quite the fashion to scratch the bites of a little insect as common
there as in certain London hotels, and it is even considered a deli-
cate attention to catch the lively creatures as they perch on the
dress or shoulders of your partner. Fortunately we are not tempted
to perform such attentions in this country; but if you have the
misfortune to be bitten or stung by any insect, you must endure the
pain without scratching the bite in company. These same little in-
sects, being of very disagreeable origin, are not even spoken of with
us. Biting the nails, again, is not only a dirty habit, but one which
soon disfigures the fingers. So too, in blowing your nose, you must
not make the noise of a trumpet, but do it gently and quietly ; and
when you sneeze, use your handkerchief. I do not go the length of
saying that you must repress a sneeze entirely. There is a pleasant
custom, still universal in Germany and Italy, and retained among
the peasantry in some parts of England, of blessing a person who has
sneezed, Benedicite, Gotl segne sie, and " bless you," being the terms
used, probably in the hope that the prayer may keep you from cold.

222 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

Sneezing brings ine to snuffing, which is an obsolete custom, re-
tained only by a few old gentlemen, and as it is a bad one, no young
man should think of reviving it

But what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh taught
our gallants to puff in capacious bowls ; which a royal pedant de-
nounced in a famous " Counterblast ; " which his nattering laureate,
Ben Jonson, ridiculed to please his master : which our wives and
sisters protest gives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a
man can indulge in ; of which some fair favorers declare that they
love the smell, and others that they will never marry an indulger
(which, by the way, they generally end in doing) ; which has won a
fame over more space and among better men than Noah's grape has
ever done ; which doctors still dispute about, and boys still get sick
over ; but which is the solace of the weary laborer ; the support of
the ill-fed ; the refresher of over- wrought brains ; the soother of
angry fancies ; the boast of the exquisite ; the excuse of the idle ;
the companion of the philosopher ; and the tenth muse of the poet.
I will go neither into the medical nor the moral question about the
dreamy, calming cloud. I will content myself so far with saying
what may be said for everything that can bless and curse mankind,
that, in moderation, it is at least harmless ; but what is moderate
and what is not, must be determined in each individual case, accord-
ing to the habits and constitution of the subject. If it cures asthma,
it may destroy digestion ; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess,
produce a chronic irritability.

But I will regard it in a a social point of view ; and, first, as a
narcotic, notice its effects on the individual character. I believe,
then, that in moderation it diminishes the violence of the passions,
and particularly that of the temper. Interested in the subject, I
have taken care to seek instances of members of the same family
having the same violent tempers by inheritance, of whom the one
has been calmed down by smoking, and the other gone on in his
passionate course. I believe that it induces a habit of calm reflec-

THE EFFECTS OF SMOKING. 223

tiveness, which causes us to take less prejudiced, perhaps less? zeal-
ous views of life, and to be therefore less irritable in our converse
with our fellow creatures. I am inclined to think that the clergy,
the squirearchy, and the peasantry are the most prejudiced and most
violent classes in this country ; there may be other reasons for this,
but it is noteworthy that these are the classes which smoke least.
On the other hand, I confess that it induces a certain lassitude, and
a lounging", easy mode of life, which are fatal both to the precision
of manners and the vivacity of conversation. The mind of a
smoker is contemplative rather than active ; and if the weed cures
our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that it is a fallacy to sup-
pose that it encourages drinking. There is more drinking and less
smoking in this than in any other country of the civilized world.
There was more drinking amonj the gentry of last century, who
never smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well together.
Coffee or beer are its best accompaniments, and the one cannot in-
toxicate, the other must be largely imbibed to do so. I have ob-
served among young bachelors that very little wine is drunk in their
chambers, and that beer is gradually taking its place. The cigar,
too, is an excuse for rising from the dinner-table where there are no
ladies to go to.

In another point of view, I am inclined to think that smoking has
conduced to make the society of men when alone less riotous, less
quarrelsome, and even less vicious than it was. Where young men
now blow a common cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful
consumption of wine, and this in their heads, they were ready and
roused to any iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelor's wife. With
it he can endure solitude longer, and is not forced into low society in
order to shun it. With it too the idle can pass many an hour, which
otherwise he would have given not to work, but to extravagant dev-
ilries. With it he is no longer restless and impatient for excitement
of any kind. We never hear now of young blades issuing in bands
from their wine to beat the watch or disturb the slumbering citizens,

224 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

as we did thirty or forty years ago, when smoking was still a rarity :
they are all puffing harmlessly in their chambers now. But, on
the other hand, I foresee with dread a too tender allegiance to the
pipe, to the destruction of good society, and the abandonment of
the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear creatures ; the pipe is the
worst rival a woman can have : and it is one whose eyes she cannot
scratch out ; who improves with age, while she herself declines ;
who has an art which no woman possesses, that of never wearying
her devotee ; who is silent, yet a companion ; costs little, yet gives
much pleasure ; who, lastly, never upbraids, and always yields the
same joy. Ah ! this is a powerful rival to wife or maid, and no
wonder that at last the woman succumbs, consents, and rather than
lose her lord or master, even supplies the hated herb with her own
fair hands.

As it is, there are rules enough to limit this indulgence. One
must never smoke, nor even ask to smoke, in the company of the
fair. If they know that in a few minutes you will be running off
to your cigar, the fair will do well — say it is in the garden, or so —
to allow you to bring it out and smoke it there. One must never
smoke, again, in the streets ; that is, in daylight. The deadly crime
may be committed, like burglary, after dark, but not before. One
must never smoke in a room inhabited at times by the ladies ; thus,
a well-bred man who has a wife or sisters, will not offer to smoke in
the dining-room after dinner. One must never smoke in a public
place, where ladies are or might be, for instance, a flower-show, or
promenade. One may smoke in a railway-carriage in spite of by-
laws, if one has first obtained the consent of every one present;
but if there be a lady there, though she give her consent, smoke
not. In nine cases out of ten, she will give it from good-nature.
One must never smoke hi a close carriage ; one may ask and obtain
leave to smoke when returning from a pic-nic or expedition in an
open carriage. One must never smoke in a theatre, on a race-
course, nor in church. This last is not, perhaps, a needless caution.

THE ETIQUETTE OF THE WEED. 225

In the Belgian churches you see a placard announcing, " Ici on ne
rnache pas du tabac." One must never smoke when anybody shows
an objection to it. One must never smoke a pipe in the streets ;
one must never smoke at all in the coffee-room of a hotel. One
must never smoke, without consent, in the presence of a clergy-
man, and one must never offer a cigar to any ecclesiastic over the
rank of curate.

But if you smoke, or if you are in the company of smokers, and
are to wear your clothes in the presence of ladies afterwards, you
must change them to smoke in. A host who asks you to smoke
will generally offer you an old coat for the purpose. You must also,
after smoking, rinse the mouth well out, and, if possible, brush the
teeth. You should never smoke in another person's house without
leave, and you should not ask leave to do so if there are ladies in the
house. When you are going to smoke a cigar yourself, you should
offer one at the same time to anybody present, if not a clergyman or
a very old man. You should always smoke a cigar given to you,
whether good or bad, and never make any remarks on its quality.

Smoking reminds me of spitting, but as this is at all times a dis-
gusting habit, I need say nothing more than — never indulge in it.
Besides being coarse and atrocious it is very bad for the health.

There are some other habits which are disagreeable to your com-
pany. One is that of sniffling or breathing hard through the
nostrils, which is only excusable if you have a cold, and even then
very disagreeable. Another is that of shaking the table with your
leg, a nervous habit, which you may not always be conscious of.
Then again, however consoling to sing and hum to yourself, you
must remember that it may annoy others, and though you may
whistle when alone, u for want of thought," you will whistle in com-
pany only for want of consideration of others. Ladies particularly
object to whistling, which is a musical, but not very melodious
habit.

We now come to habits at table which are very important. How-
• 15

226 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

ever agreeable a man may be in society, if lie offends or disgusts by
his table traits, lie will soon be scouted from it, and justly so.
There are some broad rules for behavior at table. Whenever there
is a servant to help you, never help yourself. Never put a knife into
your mouth, not even with cheese, which should be eaten with a
fork. Never use a spoon for anything but liquids. Never touch
anything edible with your fingers; forks were undoubtedly a
later invention than fingers, but as we are not cannibals, I am
inclined to think they were a good one. There are some few things
which you may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure will eat
even macaroni with his fingers ; and as sucking asparagus is more
pleasant than chewing it, you may, as an epicure, take it up au
naturd. But both these things are generally eaten with a fork.
Bread is of course eaten with the fingers, and it would be absurd to
carve it with your knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always
be broken when not buttered, and you should never put a slice of
dry bread to your mouth to bite a piece off. Most fresh fruit too is
eaten with the natural prongs, but when you have peeled an orange
or apple, you should cut it with the aid of the fork, unless you can
succeed in breaking it. Apropos of which I may hint that no epicure
ever yet put knife to apple, and that an orange should be peeled
with a spoon. But the art of peeling an orange so as to hold its own
juice, and its own sugar too, is one that can scarcely be taught in a
book.

However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you whether you
are a well-bred man or not ; and here let me premise that what is
good manners for a small dinner is good manners for a large one, and
vice versa. Now, the first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir !
pray do not cram yourself into the table in that way ; no, nor sit a
yard from it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and in the
way of easy conversation ! Why, dear me, you are positively put-
ting your elbows on the table, and now you have got your hands
fumbling about with the spoons and forks, and now you are nearly

IIxVBITS xlT TABLE. 22

Z'JSi

knocking my new hock glasses over. Can't you take your hands
down, sir ? Didn't you learn that in the nursery ? Didn't your
mamma say to you, " Never put your hands above the table except
to carve or eat ? " Oh ! but come, no nonsense, sit up if you please.
I can't have your fine head of hair forming a side dish on my table ;
you must not bury your face in the plate, you came to show it, and
it ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion to throw your
head back like that, you look like an alderman, sir, after dinner.
Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy way. You are here to eat, drink,
and be merry. You can sleep when you get home.

Well, then, I suppose you can see .your napkin. Got none,
indeed ! Very likely, in ray house. You may be sure that I never
sit down to a meal without napkins. I don't want to make my
tablecloths unfit for use, and I don't want to make my trousers un-
wearable. Well now, we are ail seated, you can unfold it on your
knees ; no, no ; don't tuck it into your waistcoat like an alderman ;
and what ! what on earth do you mean by wiping your forehead with
it ? Dj you take it for a towel? Well, never mind, I am consoled
that you did not go farther, and use it as a pocket-handkerchief.
So talk away to the lady on your right, and wait till soup is handed
to you. By the way, that waiting is a most important part of table
manners, and as much as possible you should avoid asking for any
thing or helping yourself from the table. Your soup you eat with a
spoon — I don't know what else you could eat it with — but then it
must be one of good size. Yes, that will do, but I beg you will not
make that odious noise in drinking your soup. It is louder than* a
dog lapping water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then
you need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it to get
the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some more ; but I must
just remark, that it is not the custom to take two helpings of soup,
and it is liable to keep other people waiting, which, once for all, is a
selfish and intolerable habit. But don't you hear the servant offering
you sherry ? I wish you would attend, for my servants have quite

228 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

enough to do, and can't wait all the evening while you finish that
very mild story to Miss Goggles. Come, leave that decanter alone.
I had the wine put on the table to fill up ; the servant will hand it
directly ; or, as we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself,
but, pray, do not b3 so officious. (There, I have sent him some
turbot to keep him quiet. I declare he cannot make up his mind.)
You are keeping my servant again, sir. Will you, or will you not,
do turbot ? Don't examine it in that way ; it is quite afresh, I
assure you, take or decline it. Ah, you take it, but that is no reason
why you should take up a knife too. Fish, I repeat, must never be
touched with a knife. Take a fork in the right, and a small piece of
bread in the left hand. Good, but — ? Oh ! that is atrocious ; of
course you must not swallow the bones, but you should rather do so
than spit them out in that way. Put up your napkin like this, and
land the said bone on your plate. Don't rub your bread in the sauce,
my good man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters
therein. Oh ! how horrid ; I declare your mouth was wide open
and full of fish. Small pieces, I beseech you ; and once for ail,
whatever you eat, keep your mouth shut, and never attempt to talk
with it full.

So now you have got a pate. Surely you are not taking two on
your plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, and one is quite
enough. Oh! dear me, you are incorrigible. What! a knife to cut
that light, brittle pastry ? No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon —
almost as bad. Take your fork, sir, your fork ; and now you have
eaten, oblige me by wiping your mouth and moustache with your
napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry hanging to the latter, and
looking very disagreeable. Well, you can refuse a dish if you like.
There is no positive necessity for you to take venison if you don't
want it. But, at any rate, do not be in that terrific hurry. You
are not going off by the next train. Wait for the sauce and wait for
vegetables ; but whether you eat them or not, do not begin before
everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that of a rail-

HABITS AT TABLE. 229

way refreshment-room, for you have finished before the person I
helped first. Fast eating is bad for the digestion, my good sir, and
not very good manners either. What ! are you trying to eat meat
with a fork alone ? Oh ! it is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you
are quite right. Let me give you a rule, — Everything that can be
cut without a knife should be cut with a fork alone. Eat your
vegetables therefore with a fork. No, there is no necessity to take
a spoon for peas ; a fork in the right hand will do. What ! did I
really see you put your knife into your mouth ? Then I must give
you up. Once for all, and ever, the knife is to cut, not to help with.
Pray do not munch in that noisy manner ; chew your food well, but
softly. Eat slowly. Have you not heard that Napoleon lost the
battle of Leipsic by eating too fast ? It is a fact though. His haste
caused indigestion, which made him incapable of attending to the
details of the battle. You see you are the last person eating at
table. Sir, I will not allow you to speak to my servants in that way.
If they are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do it gently,
and in a low tone,' and thank a servant just as much as you would
his master. Ten to one he is as good a man : and because he is
your inferior in position, is the very reason you should treat him
courteously. Oh ! it is of no use to ask me to take wine ; far from
pacifying me, it will only make me more angry, for I tell you the
custom is quite gone out, except in a few country villages, and at a
mess-table. Nor need you ask the lady to do so. However, there
is this consolation, if you should ask any one to take wine with you,
he or she cannot refuse, so you have your own way. Perhaps next
you will be asking me to hob and nob, or trinquer in the French
fashion with arms encircled. Ah ! you don't know, perhaps, that when
a lady trinques in that way with you, you have a right to finish off
with a kiss. Very likely indeed, in England ! But it is the custom
in familiar circles in France, but then we are not Frenchmen. Will
you attend to your lady, sir ? You did not come merely to eat,
but to make yourself agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon

230 MANNER, CARRIAGE, AND HABITS.

at Thebes ; talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some pudding.
No knife — no, no. A spoon, if you like, but better still, a fork.
Yes, ice requires a spoon; there is a small one handed you, take
that.

Say ' ' No. " That is the fourth time wine has been handed to you,
and I am sure you have had enough. Decline this time if you
please. Decline that dish too. Are you going to eat of everything
that is handed ? I pity you if you do. No, you must not ask for
more cheese, and you must eat it with your fork. Break the rusk
with your fingers. Good. You are drinking a glass of old port.
Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never drink a whole
glassful of anything at once.

Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take whichever wine you like,
but remember you must keep to that, and not change about. Before
you go up stairs I will allow you a glass of sherry after your claret,
but otherwise drink of one wine only. You don't mean to say you
are helping yourself to wine before the ladies. At least offer it to
the one next to you, and then pass it on, gently, not with a push
like that. Do not drink so fast ; you will hurry me in passing the
decanters, if I see that your glass is empty. You need not eat
dessert till the ladies are gone, but offer them whatever is nearest to
you. And now they are gone, draw your chair near mine, and I
will try and talk more pleasantly to you. You will come out admira-
ble at your next dinner with all my teaching. What ! you are ex-
cited, you are talking loud to the Colonel. Nonsense. Come and
talk easily to me or to your nearest neighbor. There, don't drink any
more wine, for I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me to
make a move. You have had enough of those walnuts ; you are
keeping me, my dear sir. So now to coffee (one cup) and tea,
which I beg you will not pour into your saucer to cool. Well, the
dinner has done you good, and me too. Let us be amiable to the
ladies, but not too much so.

THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES. 231

CHAPTER VIII.
THE CARKIAGfE OF LADIES.

"To be civil with ease," it has been well remarked, constitutes
good breeding. The English, it is added, have not les mauler es p?*e-
venantes ; ' ' when they want to be civil, they are ashamed to get it
out." Since the manners are generally formed for good or for bad
before thirty — although they may improve or deteriorate after that
age — it is to the young that a few admonitions should be offered.

" To the young? " The young are perfect now-a-days ! Ours is
the age of self-assertion. ' ' I shall be surprised at any one who can
point out a single defect in my daughters," says a well-satisfied
mamma. " Teach us ! " respond the young ladies in a chorus,
u what does the creature mean ? " "My dears," murmurs a tremu-
lous voice from the other end of the room, grandmamma's corner,
" don't say that ; in my younger days it was the fashion for young
ladies, if they were not really humble and timid to appear so. I
never came into a room as you, Arabella, do, as if I could walk over
every one, and didn't mind ; nor crept in, Helen, like you, as if you
had been doing something in the passage you were ashamed of ;

nor plumped down into a chair like you, Sophia, nor ." Here

they all interrupt poor grandmamma with a loud, simultaneous
laugh, for she is certainly quite out of date, and knows nothing of
the matter.

She might have laid down immutable rules for good breeding ;
she might have said, with the great Lord Chatham, who probably
was the best-bred man of his time, that "politeness is benevolence
in trifles ; " with Rochefoucault, "that it is the mind that forms
the maimers ; " but who would m have listened to her ? Arabella
would have called out, "Who cares for such old fogrums now?"
and Helen have added, that she thought Lord Chesterfield and "all
that humbug about manners quite a sell."

232 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.

Yes, it is true ; nous avons change tout cela. Except in the very
highest classes, where politeness and a good carriage are taught
from infancy — the higher classes being more retentive of old forms
than any others; except there, where what is called the " old
school " has not died out, it is now not only allowable, but even
thought clever, to be loud, positive, and rapid; to come into the
room like a whirlwind, carrying all before you; to look upon every
one else as inferiors, with the idea that it enforces that conviction ;
to have your own set of opinions and ideas, without the least refer-
ence to what others think ; and to express them in terms which
would have been far better comprehended in the stable than by a
company of ladies and gentlemen some twenty years ago. Even in
the highest classes, these watering-place manners — so let us call
them — are on the increase, but only amongst a certain set, who give
the tone to a set, emulating their merits, below them.

It is as well to suggest to the young — u to be early what they will,
in later life, wish they had always been." Unhappily those who
compose society are prone to borrow their ideas from the class
above them, and do not think for themselves. Melissa, the attor-
ney's daughter, catches up a few words of slang from the county
member's daughter at the last races, and thinks it pretty to use
those phrases vigorously. Philippa, the good old rector's favorite
child, hears Lady Elizabeth contradict her mamma, and takes the
same cue herself, as the certainty of doing the right thing. Modesty
and simplicity, the offspring of reverence, dare not show their faces,
and are voted "slow."

Since language is the exponent of character, it is necessary to
refer to its abuse, as if it does not in all cases actually show a vul-
gar and pretentious mind, it is apt to render it so.

An agreeable, modest, an,d dignified bearing is, in the younger
period of a woman's existence, almost like a portion to her. What-
ever may be the transient tone and fashion of the day, that which is
amiable, graceful, and true in taste, will always please the majority

ON FIBST INTRODUCTION. 233

of the world. A young lady, properly so called, should not require
to have allowances made for her. Well brought up, her address
should be polite and gentle, and it will, soon after her introduction
to society, become easy " to be civil with ease. " Let us repeat the
golden rule, it should be the guidance to the minor's morals of
society. On first being introduced to any stranger, there is no in-
sincerity in the display of a certain pleasure. We are advised by
Wilberforce to give our good-will, at first on leasehold. To the
elder, a deferential bend or courtesy, though courtesies are now un-
fashionable, marks the well brought up girl. She must not receive
her new aquaintance with a hysteric laugh, such as I have seen
whole families prone to ; neither must she look heavy, draw down her
mouth, and appear as if she did not care for her new acquaintance ;
nor must she look at once over the dress of her victim (in that case)
as if taking an inventory of it ; nor appear hurried, as if glad to get
away on the first break in the conversation. She must give a due
attention, or reasonable time to perfect the introduction, to a certain
extent. Volubility is to be avoided ; to overpower with a volley of
words is more cruel than kind ; the words should be gently spoken,
not drawled, and the voice loud enough to be caught easily, but
always in an undertone to the power of voice allotted by nature.
Some persons appear to go to the very extent, and deafen you for
all other sounds ; they may speak the words of wisdom, but you
wish them dumb. Others mumble so that you are forced contin-
ually to express your total inability to follow the drift of their re-
marks ; others drawl so that you feel that life is not long enough
for such acquaintance. All these are habits to be conquered in
youth.

Avoid, especially, affectation. It was once in fashion. Some
ladies put it on with their dresses ; others, by a long practice, were
successful in making it habitual. It became what was called their
manner. Sophia has a manner; it is not affectation, " it is her
manner, only manner." Affectation has long ceased to be the fash-

234: THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.

ion, and like many other bygone peculiarities, one sees it only in
shops.

There is a way also of looking that mnst be regulated in the
young. The audacious stare is odious ; the sly, oblique, impenetra-
ble look is unsatisfactory. Softly and kindly should the eyes be
raised to those of the speaker, and only withdrawn when the speech,
whatever it may be, is concluded. Immediate intimacy and a fa-
miliar manner are worse than the glum look with which some young
ladies have a habit of regarding their fellow-mortals. There is also
a certain dignity of manners necessary to make even the most
superior persons respected. This dignitycan hard ly be assumed ; it
cannot be taught ; it must be the result of intrinsic qualities, aided
by a knowledge very much overlooked in modern education — ' ' the
knowledge how to behave." It is distinct from pretension, which is
about the worst feature of bad manners, and creates nothing but
disgust. A lady should be equal to every occasion. Her politeness,
her equanimity, her presence of mind, should attend her to the
court and to the cottage.

Neither should private vexations be allowed to act upon her man-
ners, either in her own house or in those of others. If unfit for
society, let her refrain from entering it. If she enters it, let her
remember that eveiy one is expected to add something to the gene-
ral stock of pleasure or improvement. The slight self-command re-
quired by good society is often beneficial both to the temper and
spirits.

One great discredit to the present day is the u fast young lady."
She is the hoyden of the old comedies, without the indelicacy of
that character. An avowed flirt, she does not scruple to talk of her
conquests, real or imaginary. You may know her by her phrases.
She talks of "the men," of such and such " a charmer." She does
not mind, but rather prefers sitting with " the men " when they are
smoking ; she rides furiously, and plays billiards. But it is in her
marked antagonism to her own sex that the fast young lady is per-

THE FAST YOUNG LADY. 235

ceptible. She shuts up her moral perceptions, and sees neither
beauty nor talent in her own sex. With all this she is often vio-
lently confident, and calls all idiots who differ from her in — I can
scarcely say her opinions — but rather her prejudices.

By degrees, the assumption of assurance which has had its source
in bad taste, becomes real ; a hard blase look, a free tongue ; and
above all, the latitude of manners shown to her by the other sex,
and allowed by her, show that the inward characteristics have fol-
lowed the outward, and that she is become insensible to all that she
has lost of feminine charm, and gained in effrontery. For the in-
stant a woman loses the true feminine type, she parts with half her
influence. The " fast girl " is flattered, admired openly, but secretly
condemned. Many a plain woman has gained and kept a heart by
being merely womanly and gentle. In one respect, however, the
fast young lady may console herself ; her flirtations are as fearless
as her expressions ; they do little harm to any but herself. Broken
hearts have not to turn reproachfully to loud, high-spirited, over-
bearing women, " jolly girls,'1 as they are styled ; u chaff" in which
they delight as often offends as amuses. To gain an empire over
the affections of others, there must be somewhat of sentiment or
sympathy in the nature of woman. Your loud, boastful, positive
young lady will never be remembered with a soft interest, unless
there be, perchance, some soft touch in her that redeems her from
hardness.

With regard to flirtation, it is difficult to draw a limit where the
predilection of the moment becomes the more tender and serious
feeling, and flirtation sobers into a more honorable form of devoted
attention.

We all dread for our daughters imprudent and harassing attach-
ments ; let it not, however, be supposed that long practised flirtations
are without their evil effects on the character and manners. They
excite and amuse, but they also exhaust the spirit. They expose
women to censure and to misconstruction ; that is their least evil ;

236 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.

they destroy the charm of her manners and the simplicity of her
heart. Yet the fast young lady clings to flirtation as the type of
her class ; the privilege of that social freemasonry which enables
one flirt to discover and unkennel another. She glories in number.
Where a rival has slain her thousands, she has overthrown her tens
of thousands. She forgets that, with every successive flirtation,
one charm after another disappears, like the petals from a fading
rose, until all the deliciousness of a fresh and pure character is lost
in the destructive sport. On all these points a woman should take
a high tone in the beginning of her life. It is sure to be sufficiently
lowered as time goes on. She loses, too, that sort of tact which
prevents her from discerning when she has gone too far, and the
u fast young lady " becomes the hardened and practised flirt, against
whom all men are on their guard.

It is true that, in comparing the present day with former times,
we must take into account, when we praise the models of more
chivalric days, that we know only the best specimens ; the interior
life of the middle classes is veiled from us by the mist of ages.
Yet it is to be deduced from biography, as well as from the testi-
mony of poets and dramatists, that there was, before the Restora-
tion, a sort of halo around young women of delicacy and good-
breeding, owing, perhaps, in part, to the more retired lives that they
led, but more to the remnants of that fast-departing sentiment of
chivalrous respect which youth and beauty inspired. Then came
the upsetting demoralization of the Restoration, when all prudent
fathers kept their daughters from court, and only the bold and
4* fast" remained to furnish chronicles for De Grammont ; we are
not, therefore, to judge of the young women of England by his
pictures. The character of English ladies rose again to a height of
moral elevation during the placid and well-conducted rule of Anne,
and continued, as far as related to single women, to be the pride
and boast of the country. Even now, when the reckless flirtation,
loud voices, unamusing jokes, which are comprised under the odious

THE PRUDE AND THE BLUE-STOCKING. 237

term " chaff," and the masculine tastes of the present day are de-
precated, events bring1 forth from time to time such instances of
devotion and virtue as must convince one that there is no degener-
acy in our own country-women on solid points. Few, indeed, are
these instances, among the class we have described. We must not
look for Florence Nightingales and Miss Marshes among that com-
pany of the fast.

Contrasted with the fast young lady comes forth the prude, who
sees harm in everything, and her friend the blue-stocking. You
may know the prude by her stolid air of resistance to mankind in
general, and by her patronizing manner to her own sex. Her style
of manner is like the Austrian policy, repressive ; her style of con-
versation, reprehensive. She has started in life with an immense
conceit of her own mental powers and moral attributes, of which
the world in general is scarcely worthy. Her manner is indicative
of this conviction ; and becomes accordingly, without her intending
ib, offensive, when she believes herself to be polite.

The prude and the pedant are often firm friends, each adoring
the other. The fast young lady deals largely in epithets: " Idiot,
dolt, wretch, humbug," drop from her lips; but the prude and her
friend the blue-stocking permit themselves to use conventional
phrases only; their notion of conversation is that it be instructive,
and, at the same time, mystifying. The young blue-stocking has,
nevertheless, large views of the regeneration of society, and eman-
cipation of woman from her degrading inferiority of social position.
She speaks in measured phrase ; it is like listening to a book to hear
her. She is rapt up in Tennyson and Browning. There is, in all
this, a great aim at display, with a self -righteousness that is very
unpleasing. , Avoid, therefore, either extreme, and be convinced
that an artless gaiety, tempered by refinement, always pleases.
Every attempt to obtrude on a company subjects either to which
they are indifferent, or of which they are ignorant, is in bad taste.

" Man should be taught as though you taught him not,
And things unknown proposed as things forgot."

238 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.

It was well said by a late eminent barrister that literature in ladies
should be what onions ought to be in cookery ; you should perceive
the flavor, but not detect the thing itself.

The bearing of married women should so far differ from that of
the unmarried, that there should be greater quietness and dignity ;
a more close adherence to forms ; and an obvious, as well as a real
abandoment of the admiration which has been received before mar-
riage. All flirtation, however it may be countenanced by the pres-
ent custom of society, should be sternly and forever put aside.
There is no reason for conversation to be less lively, or society less
agTeeable ; it is, indeed, likely to be more so, if flattered vanity,
which may be wounded at any moment, interposes, not to mar, but
to enhance enjoyment. If a young married woman wishes to be re-
spected and therefore happy in life, there should be a quiet propriety
of manner, a dignity towards the male sex which cannot be mistaken
in her for prudery, since it is consistent with her position and her
ties. She should change her tone, if that has been "fast;" she
should not put herself on a level with young unmarried women of
her own age, but should influence and even lead her youthful ac-
quaintances into that style of behavior which is doubtless much es-
teemed by men of g*ood taste. She should rather discountenance the
fast, but has no need to copy or to bring forward the prude and the
blue-stocking. And it behooves married women to be more espe-
cially guarded and sensible in their conduct, when it is remembered
how rapidly the demoralization introduced, perhaps, by our contig-
uity with France, is extending in every class. Formerly, among
trades-people and professional men, separations and divorces were
almost unheard of ; the vices that lead to them were looked on with
horror by the middle classes. But now, the schoolmaster runs away
with the wife of his apothecary ; the brewer does the fashionable
with the attorney's wife ; the baker intrigues with the green grocer's
hitherto worthy helpmate. Never, in any time, have the seeds of
vice been so scattered by the gale from one condition of social life

TflE MARRIED WOMAN. 289

to another ; and the infection of this appalling" wickedness has been
spreading, as the Divorce Court proves, silently, but widely, for
some years.

Every woman, however humble, even however poor, may do one
thing for society. She may set an example : but we call loudly on
those in the higher walks of life to do so, and to wipe away the re-
proach on Israel.

In being introduced to a new acquaintance, there should be more
dignity and a little more distance in the manner of the married
woman than that of the single lady.

When she visits in a morning call, let her neither hurry off, after
a few moments of empty talk ; nor stay too long, never considering
the convenience of her who receives her. She should walk gently
down stairs, not talking- loud to any one as she goes. Never let her
apologize for not having called sooner, unless positively necessary ;
such apologies are vastly like affronts.

In receiving guests the English lady has much to learn from the
French hostess. Many a time has the visitor in England been met
with symptoms of hurry and preoccupation, remarkably embarrassing"
to those who call ; or the carriage is announced directly after her
arrival, and the lady of the house looks as if she thought her friend
ought to go. Some under-bred ladies, in country towns, look out
of the window half of the time, or put tidy their work-boxes, mak-
ing you feel that you are secondary. As an immutable law of hos-
pitality and good breeding, a guest should always be the first and
sole object when alone with you.

It is one advantage of the French system of having a day on
which to receive morning callers, that the lady of the house is ready,
and willing to let so many idlers into her drawing-room. In no re-
spect does the French lady shine so much as in her reception of
those who, as she appears to think, " do her the honor " to enter her
house. It is this that makes the difference. In England we seem to
think we do people an honor in letting them cross our thresholds and

240 THE CARRIAGE OF LADIES.

come up our stairs. The French lady advances to meet the ladies,
but waits to receive the gentlemen. She has a chair ready for every
one, and the rooms of the fashionable are often full to crowding", yet
no one is neglected. Something civil (and tk civil with ease"), ap-
propriate, well-turned, and often gracefully kind is said to every one.
The stranger or foreigner is not left out of the conversation pre-
viously going on; he or she is not made to feel " you are not one
of us ; the sooner you go the better," The conversation is soon
general, though without introductions. Having said all you wish,
and stayed the usual time, you rise, and the lady follows you to the
door, where a servant is waiting to conduct you down stairs and call
your carriage into the gout. This agreeable accueil forms a strong"
contrast to the ennui which a mal-d-apropos visit often seems
to produce in a London drawing-room, and the evident dispatch
with which a lady often rings the bell to let you out, often sitting-
down and resuming a conversation before you are half across the
old and spacious apartment.

In regard to the physical carriage of women, the graces of an up-
right form, of elegant and gentle movements, and of the desirable
medium between stiffness and lounging, are desirable both for mar-
ried and single. The same rules and recommendations are applica-
ble to both. Control over the countenance is a part of manners.
As a lady enters a drawing-room, she should look for the mis-
tress of the house, speaking first to her. Her face should wear a
smile ; she should not rush in head foremost ; a graceful bearing, a
light step, an elegant bend to common acquaintance, a cordial pres-
sure, not shaking, of the hand extended to her, are all requisite to a
lady. Let her sink gently into a chair, and, on formal occasions,
retain her upright position ; neither lounge nor sit timorously on
the edge of her seat. Her feet should scarcely be shown, and
not crossed. She must avoid sitting stiffly, as if a ramrod were in-
troduced within the dress behind, or stooping. Excepting a very
small and costly parasol, it is not now usual to bring those articles

IN PUBLIC. THE PROMENADE, ETC. 241

into a room. An elegantly worked handkerchief is carried in the
hand, but not displayed so much as at dinner parties. A lady
should conquer a habit of breathing hard, or coming in very hot,
or even looking very blue and shivery. Anything that detracts from
the pleasure of society is in bad taste.

In walking the feet should be moderately turned out, the steps
should be equal, firm, and light. A lady may be known by her walk.
The short, rapid steps, the shaking the body from side to side, or
the very slow gait which many ladies consider genteel, are equally
to be deprecated. Some persons are endowed with a natural grace
that wants no teaching; where it is not the case, the greatest care
should be taken to engraft it in childhood, to have a master, not for
dancing alone, but for the even more important attributes of the
lady's carriage. To bow with grace, or to courtesy when required,
to move across a room well, are points which strike the attention
almost unconsciously to ourselves, and the neglect of which often
provokes comment even on those in other respects well qualified
to adorn society.

PAET II.— THE INDIVIDUAL IN INDIVID-
UAL EELATIONS.

CHAPTER IX.

IN PUBLIC. — TELE PROMENADE, ETC.

So now, my dear Sir and my dear madam, you are dressed,
you have your accomplishments ready for use, you know how to
carry yourself, what good habits to attend to, what bad ones to
16

242 THE PROMENADE, ETC.

avoid ; you have made a full examination of yourself ; you feel con-
fident that you are ua complete gentleman," or ua charming wo-
man;" you have had lunch, you feel comfortable and happy, and
you say to yourself, " Let me go out and put these good rules into
practice."

So then, if you are a man, you consult nobody but your watch ; if
you are a young lady, you consult mamma, and both having obtained
the requisite assent, you, sir, issue forth with your watch, and you,
mademoiselle, with your chaperon, and you go to meet your ac-
quaintance in the walk. Where the said walk may be is little mat-
ter. In the days of the Stuarts, you would have repaired to the
transepts of old St. Paul's, then the fashionable promenade. In a
later reign you would have turned your steps to the u Mall," and
met Beau Tibbs there in all his glory. Now, if you live in London,
you make for Rotten Row ; if in a watering-place, for the Prome-
nade or the Parade, or bref, whatever may be the spot chosen for
the gay peacocks to strut in.

You have not been there two minutes before you meet somebody
you know. But that is a very vague term ; for you may know peo-
ple in almost a dozen different ways. First, then, you know them
slightly, and wish to recognize them slightly. Your course is sim-
ple enough. If you are a lady, you have the privilege of recognizing
a gentleman. You wish to do so, because there is no reason that
you should not be polite to him. So when you come quite near to
him and see that he is looking at you, you bow slightly, and pass on.
There are one or two things to be avoided even in this. You must
not, however short-sighted, raise your glasses and stare at him
through them before you bow ; but as it is very awkward for a lady
to bow by mistake to a gentleman she does not know, you should look
at him well before you come up to him. If you are a man, on the other
hand, and you meet a lady whom you know slightly, you must wait
till she bows to you. You then lift your hat quite off your head
with the hand, whichever it may be, which is farther from the per-

THE SALUTE. 243

son you meet. You lift it off your head, but that is all ; you have
no need, as they do in France, to show the world the inside thereof ;
so you immediately replace it. In making- this salute, you bend
your body slightly. If, which should rarely occur, you happen
to be smoking, you take your cigar from your mouth with the other
hand ; so too, if you have your hands in your pockets, which I hope
you will not, you take them out before bowing. To neglect these
little observances would show a want of respect.

But suppose it is a person whom you know rather more than
slightly, and to whom you may speak. Well, then, no man may stop
to speak to a lady until she stops to speak to him. The lady, in short,
has the right in all cases to be friendly or distant. Women have
not many rights ; let us gracefully concede the few that they pos-
sess. You raise your hat all the same, but you do not shake hands
unless the lady puts out hers, which you may take as a sign of par-
ticular good-will. In this case you must not stop long, but the lady
again has the right to prolong the interview at pleasure. It is she,
not you, who must make the move onwards. If she does this in the
middle of a conversation, it is a proof that she is willing that you
should join her, and if you have no absolute call to go your way,
you ought to do so. But if she does so with a slight inclination, it
is to dismiss you, and you must then again bow and again raise
your hat.

If, however, you are old acquaintance without any quarrel be-
tween, you should, whether gentleman or lady, at once stop and
give the hand and enter into conversation. The length of this con-
versation must depend on the place where you meet. If in the
streets, it should be very short ; if in a regular promenade, it may
be longer; but as a rule, old friends do better to turn round and
join forces. On the other hand, if you are walking with a man
whom your lady friend does not know, you must not stop ; still less
so, if she is walking with a lady or gentleman whom you do not
know. If, however, a decided inclination is evinced by either to

244: THE PROMENADE, ETC.

speak to the other, and you so stop, the stranger ought not to walk
on, but to stop also, and it then behooves you to introduce him or
her. Such an introduction is merely formal, and goes no farther.

Lastly, let us suppose that you want to " cut " your acquaintance.
O fie ! Who invented the cut ? What demon put it into the head of
man or woman to give this mute token of contempt or hatred ? I
do not know, but I do know that in modern civilized life, as it goes,
the cut is a great institution. The finest specimen of it which we
have on record is that of Beau Brummell and George IV. These
two devoted friends had quarrelled, as devoted friends are wont to
do, and when they met again, George, then Prince, was walking up
St. James Street on the arm of some companion, and Brummell,
dressed to perfection, was coming down it on that of another. The
two companions happened to know one another, and all four stop-
ped. George the Prince was determined to ignore George the
Beau's existence, and talked to his companion without appearing to
see him. George the Beau expected this, but was still mortified.
They all bowed and moved away ; but before the Prince was out of
hearing, Brummell said to his companion in a loud voice, ' ' Who's
your fat friend ? " It is well known that the Regent grieved at that
time most bitterly over his growing corpulency, and the Beau was
avenged.

But my advice to anybody who wishes to cut an acquaintance is,
most emphatically, Don't. In the first place, it is vulgar, and a
custom which the vulgar affect. It is pretentious, and seems to
say, u You are not good enough for me to know." All pretension is
vulgar. In the next place, it does the cutter as much injury as the
cuttee. The latter, if worthless, revenges himself by denouncing
the former as stuck-up, impolite, ill-bred ; if himself well-bred, he
says nothing about it, but inwardly condemns and despises yon.
Now, in a world where love is at a premium, and even respect is not
cheap, it is a pity to add, by foolish pride, to the number of those
who dislike you; but, if there were no other consideration, it is

THE CUT. 245

extremely unchristian, to say the least of it. It is a giving of of-
fence ; and woe to him by whom offences come. It is the conse-
quence either of pride or of judging your neighbor, both of which
are bad faults. Lastly, it raises up forever between two people
a barrier which neither years nor regret can surmount. It is a
silent but desperate quarrel, but, unlike other quarrels, it is never
followed by a reconciliation. The Christian law used to be, " If
you have aught against your brother, go and expostulate with him."
The modern social law — not, however, the law of good society —
makes an amendment : ■ ' Do not take the trouble to go to him — it
will do no good — but cut him dead when you meet, and so get rid
of him forever." Yes, "Bead!" Dead, indeed; for all the love,
all the forgiveness there might flow between you, he is as good as
dead to you, — what is more, you have killed him.

But the cut is often a silly measure, and far too promptly resorted
to. At Bath you have known the Simpkinses, and even been inti-
mate with them, but in Town you take it into your. head they are
"inferior; " you meet and cut them. Well, a fortnight later, you
find that Lady So-and-so is particularly partial to the Simpkinses.
"Do you know those charming girls?" she asks, and how foolish
you then feel. Or again, Captain Mactavish is your best and most
amusing friend ; slander whispers in your ear, ' ' Mactavish was
cashiered for fraudulent transactions." You go out, happen to
meet, and cut him dead. The next day the truth comes out. It is
another Mactavish who was cashiered, and your friend is a model
of honor. What can you do ? You cannot tell him you made a mis-
take. It would then be his turn to take a high hand. " No, no ! "
says he, when you offer to renew the friendship, " if you could so
soon believe evil of me, you are not the man for Mactavish. Be-
sides, you cut me yesterday, and I can forgive everything but a
cut." Or again, papa is alarmed at the attentions of young Mont-
morency. UA penniless boy making love to Matilda!" he cries
indignantly, and orders the said Matilda and her mamma to cut him.

246 THE PROMENADE, ETC.

Montmorency, in pique, runs off to Miss Smith, offers, and marries
her. It is then discovered that Montmorency has a bachelor uncle
whose whole fortune will come to him, and Matilda is miserable.

But there are some cases in which a cut becomes the sole means
of ridding one's -self of annoyance, and with young ladies especially
so. A girl has no other means of escaping from the familiarity of a
pushing and thick-skinned man. She cannot always be certain that
the people introduced to her are gentlemen ; pleased with them at
first, she gives them some encouragement, till some occasion or
other lays bare the true character of her new acquaintance. What
is she to do ? He requires so little to encourage him, that even a
recognition would be sufficient to bring him on. She has nothing
left but to cut him dead. The cut, however, should be positively
the last resource. There are many ways, less offensive and more
dignified, of showing that you do not wish for intimacy ; the stiff
bow without a smile is enough to show a man of any perception that
he need not make further advances, and as for cutting people of
real or imaginary inferiority, it is the worst of vulgarity. We laugh
at the silly pride of the small dressmaker who declines to go through
the kitchen. u Not accustomed to associate with menials," she tells
you, and knocks at the front door ; we smile at the costermonger
who cannot lower himself to recognize the crossing-sweeper ; and
how absurd to those of a higher class than our own must the Smiths,
whose father was a physician, appear, when they cut the Simp-
kinses, whose progenitor is only a surgeon, and so on. But if you
have once known people you should always know them, if they have
not done anything to merit indignation. If you have once been
familiar with the Simpkinses, you are not only inconsistent and
vulgar, but you accuse yourself of former want of perception, if
now you discover that they are too low for you to know.

But, if a cut must be made, let it be done with as little offen-
siveness as possible. Let the miserable culprit not be tortured to
death, or broken in the social wheel, like a Damiens, however treason-

THE KISS, 247

able his offence. Never, on any account, allow him to speak to you,
and then staring him in the face, exclaim, ' c Sir, I do not know
you ! " or, as some people, trying to make rudeness elegant, would
say, " Sir, I have not the honor of your acquaintance ; " nor behead
him with the fixed stare ; but rather let him see that you have
noticed his approach, and then turn your head away. If he is thick-
skinned or daring enough to come up to you after that, bow to him
stiffly and pass on. In this way you avoid insolence, and cause less
of that destroyer of good manners — confusion.

There are some definite rules for cutting. A gentleman must
never cut a lady under any circumstances. An unmarried lady
should never cut a married one. A servant of whatever class — for
there are servants up to royalty itself — should never cut his master ;
near relations should never cut one another at all ; and a clergyman
should never cut anybody, because it is at best an unchristian action.
Perhaps it may be added that a superior should never cut his inferior
in rank ; he has many other ways of annihilating him. Certainly it
may be laid down that people holding temporary official relations
must waive their private animosities, and that two doctors, for
instance, however much opposed to one another, should never intro-
duce the cut over the bed of a patient.

I pass now to a much pleasanter theme, that of salutation. There
are now two recognized modes of cordial salutation — the kiss and the
shake of the hand. Whether kissing was known in Paradise, as
Byron, who had some experience of it (kissing, I mean, not Para-
dise), assures us :

" One remnant of Paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love ; "

we cannot stop to investigate, but that it was a very early discovery,
those who read their Bibles may find out. It is a beautiful custom,
an angelic custom ; I say it without blushing, because it was origin-
ally, and in many countries is — let us hope even in England— the

248 THE PROMENADE, ETC.

most innocent thing in the world. Certainly, about the period of
our own era, the u kiss of peace " was a mark of love between men,
though in some cases it was made to serve the deadliest ends. It is
still in use between men in France and Germany. The parent kisses
his grown-up son on the forehead ; friends press their lips to others'
cheeks ; brothers throw their arms round one another's necks and
embrace like lovers. Alack and alas ! for our stiff humanity. Here
in England it is reserved for children and girls, and for Minnie to
stop my lips with when I am going to scold her. Well, it is a beau-
tiful old custom, all the same, and if we were not so wicked in this
nineteenth century, we should have more of it. In the days of good
Queen Bess it was the height of politeness to kiss your neighbor's
wife, and our grandfathers tell us that on entering a room they
kissed all the women present as a matter of course. This privilege
is reserved now for Scotch cousins, who make a very free use of it.
But, alas ! this beautiful symbol of pure affection, which sent a
thrill from warm lips through all the frame, is now become a matter
of almost shame to us. It is a deed to be done behind the door, as
Horace Smith hints —

Sydney Morgan was playing the organ,

While behind the vestry door
Horace Twiss was snatching a kiss

From the lips of Hannah More."

Poor Hannah More ! how the very thought must have shrivelled
her up.

The kiss of mere respect was made on the hand, a good old cus-
tom still retained in Germany, and among a few old beaux at home.
Whether it was pure respect which induced Leicester often to kiss
the Virgin Queen on her lips, "which," we are told, u she took right
heartily," I cannot say ; but at all events in this day, the kissing of
the lips is reserved for lovers, and should scarcely be performed in
public. But the kiss of friendship and relationship on the cheeks or
forehead is still kept up a little, and might be much more common.

HAND-SHAKING. 249

I like to see a young man kiss his mother on her wrinkled brow ; it
shows ' ' there is no humbug about him. " I like to see sisters kiss,
and old friends when they meet again. But I may like what I like.
The world is against me, and as it is a delicate subject I will say no
more on it, save only this, — As a general rule, this act of affection is
excluded from public eyes in this country, and there are people
who are ashamed even to kiss a brother or father on board
the steamer which is to take him away for some ten or twenty
years. But then there are people in England who are ashamed of
showing any feeling, however natural, however pure. This is a
matter in which I would not have etiquette interfere. Let the
world say it is rustic, or even vulgar, to kiss your friends on the
platform of a railway, before they start or when they arrive. It is
never vulgar to be loving, and love that is real love will show itself,
though there were ten Acts of Parliament against it.

" A cold hand and a warm heart" is an old saw, which may be
true for the temperature of the skin, but is certainly not so for the
mode of pressing it. A warm heart, I am persuaded, gives a warm
shake of the hand, and a man must be a hypocrite, who can shake
yours heartily while he hates you. The hand is after all the most
natural limb to salute with. Next to those of the lips, the nerves
of touch are most highly developed in the fingers, which may be
accounted for by the perpetual friction and irritation to which they
are subjected, for we know that those portions of the skin are the
most ticklish which undergo the most friction . However this may be,
the hand is the most convenient member to salute with. The toe-
rubbing process, for instance, must subject one to the risk of toppling
over in any but a dignified manner ; u making a knee " was liable to
be followed by breaking a nose, if the balance were not carefully pre-
served, and as for the total prostration system, I feel convinced that
it must have been given up by common consent after dinner, and by
corpulent personages. But the charm of the hand, as a saluting
member, lies in the fact of its grasping power, which enables the

250 THE PROMENADE, ETC.

shaker to vary the salute at pleasure. The freemasons well know
this, and though they begin the mysterious salute with signs for the
eye, they are rarely satisfied till they have followed them up by the
grasp, which varies for almost every grade, for apprentice, master,
royal arch, knight templar, and all their other absurdities. My
worthy masons, do not suppose that you possess a monopoly of this
art. There is as cunning a freemasonry in all society, and the mode
of taking, grasping, and shaking the hand, varies as much according
to circumstances, and even more, than your knuckling system.

First, there is the case where two hands simply take hold of one
another. This is the mode of very shy people, and of two lovers
parting in tears : but then in the one case the hold is brief, in the
other continued. Next, there is the case where one hand is laid
clammily in the other, which slightly presses the fingers, not going
down to the palm. This is a favorite mode with ladies, especially
young ladies, towards slight acquaintance ; but when my heart
flutters a little for Mariana's smile, I should be piqued indeed, nay,
shocked, if there were nothing more than fingers laid in my hand,
no responsive thumb to complete the manoeuvre, and when Sybilla
told me she could not love me, and when she would not listen, but
hurried away up the terrace steps, and turned to give me the last —
last shake of a hand, I have never touched again, I cannot tell you
what of despair she saved me in the friendly warmth — I do not say
affection — with which she wrung my hand that passionately clung
round hers. Ah ! Sybilla, better have left that hand with me, have
given it me forever, than to the wealthy wig- wearing, rouged and
powdered bear, to whom they sold you afterwards.

Next, there is the terribly genteel salute of the under-bred man,
who, with a smirk on his face, just touches the tips of your fingers
as if they were made of glass ; there is the blunt honest shake of
the rough, who lays out his hand with the palm open and the heart
in the hollow of it, stretches it well out, and shakes and rattles the
one you put into it ; there is the pouncing style of him who affects

HAND-SHAKING. 251

but does not feel cordiality, who brings the angle between thumb
and finger down upon you like gaping shears ; there is the hailing
style of the indifferent man who seems to say to your hand, u Come
and be shaken ;" there is the style of the man who gives your hand
one toss, as if he were ringing the dinner-bell ; and another bell-
ringing style is that of milady, who shakes her own hand from the
wrist with a neat fine little movement, and does not care whether
yours shakes in it or not ; there is genius who clasps your hands in
both of his and beams into your face ; and there is love who seizes
it to press it tighter and more tightly, and sends his whole soul
through the fingers.

But the styles are infinite ; there is the mesmeric style where the
shaker seems to make a pass down you before getting at your hand ;
there is papa's style, coming down with an open-handed smack, that
you may hear half the length of Parliament Street ; there is the
solemn style, where the elbow is tucked into the side, like the wing
of a trussed fowl, and the long fingers are extended with the thumb
in close attendance ; there is the hearty double -knock style of three
rapid shakes ; there is the melancholy style, where the hand is
heaved up once or twice slowly and lowered despairingly ; there is
the adulatory style, where it is raised towards the bent head as if to
be inspected ; there is the hail-fellow style, where the arm is
stretched out sideways, and the eyes say, " There's my hand, old
boy ! " Then of styles to be always avoided, there is the swinging
style, where your arm is tossed from side to side ; there is the
wrenching style, by which your knuckles are made to ache for five
minutes after; and there is the condescending style, where two
fingers are held out to you as a great honor. But, the best style of
all, me judice, is the hearty single clasp, full-handed, warm, mo-
mentary, just shaken enough to make the gentle grasp well felt but
not painful.

The etiquette of hand-shaking is simple. A man has no right to
take a lady's hand till it is offered. It were a robbery which she

252 THE PROMENADE, ETC.

would punish. He has even less right to pinch or to retain it. Two
ladies shake hands gently and softly. A young lady gives her hand,
hut does not shake a gentleman's unless she is his friend. A lady
should always rise to give her hand ; a gentleman, of course, never
dares to do so seated. On introduction in a room, a married lady
generally offers her hand, a young lady not ; in a ball-room, where
the introduction is to dancing, not to friendship, you never shake
hands; and, as a general rule, an introduction is not followed by
shaking hands, only by a bow. It may perhaps be laid down, that
the more public the place of introduction, the less hand-shaking
takes place ; but if the introduction be particular, if it be accom-
panied by personal recommendation , such as, ' c I want you to know
my friend Jones," or, if Jones comes with a letter of presentation,
then you give Jones your hand, and warmly too. Lastly, it is the
privilege of a superior to offer or withhold his or her hand, so that
an inferior should never put his f orward first.

There are other modes of salutation, which, being too familiar,
are well avoided, such as clapping a man on the shoulder, digging
him in the ribs, and so forth. The French rarely shake hands, and
only with intimate friends. They then give the left hand, because
that is nearer the heart, la main du coeur. The most cordial way of
shaking hands is to give both at once, but this presupposes a certain
or uncertain amount of affection.

When you meet a friend in the street, it must depend on the
amount of familiarity whether you walk with him or not, but with a
lady you must not walk unless invited verbally or tacitly. A young
and single man should never walk with a young lady in public
places, unless especially asked to do so. How Sybilla's words
thrilled through me, when she said, ' i Mamma, I am going to walk

home with Mr. , if you have no objection." I had not proposed

it, it was her own doing. No wonder I am a bachelor still, and she
the Amy in Locksley Hall ! If you walk with a lady alone in a
large town, particularly in London, you must offer her your arm ;
elsewhere it is unnecessary, and even marked.

VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC. 253

In driving with ladies, a man must take the back seat of the car-
riage, and when it stops, jump out first and offer his hand to let them
out. In your own carriage you always give the front seat to a vis-
itor, if you are a man, but a lady leaves the back seat for a gentle-
man.

In railway travelling you should not open a conversation with a
lady unknown to you, until she makes some advance towards it. On
the other hand, it is polite to speak to a gentleman. If, however,
his answers be curt, and he evinces a desire to be quiet, do not pur-
sue the conversation. On your part, if addressed in a railway
carriage, you should always reply politely. If you have a news-
paper, and others have not, you should offer it to the person
nearest to you. An acquaintance begun on a railway may some-
times go farther, but, as a general rule, it terminates when one of
the parties leaves the carriage. A Frenchman always takes off his
hat in a carriage where there are ladies, whether a private or public
one. This is a politeness which really well-bred Englishmen imitate.
If you go in an omnibus (and there is no reason why a gentleman
should not do so), it is well to avoid conversation, but if you enter
into it, beware of inflammatory subjects. An acquaintance of mine
once talked politics to a radical in an omnibus. The two got
heated, and more heated, and my acquaintance — for he was no
friend, I assure you — ended by driving his opponent's head through
the window of the vehicle. It was agreeable — very — to see his
name next day in the police reports.

CHAPTER X.

IN PRIVATE. — VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

There are many great men who go unrewarded for the services
they render to humanity. Nay, even their names are lost, while we

254: VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

daily bless their inventions. One of these is he, if it was not a lady,
who introduced the use of visiting cards. In days of yore a slate or
a book was kept, and you wrote your name on it. But then that
could only be done when your acquaintance was u not at home/'
To the French is due the practice of making- the delivery of a card
serve the purpose of the appearance of the individual, and with those
who have a large acquaintance this custom is becoming very com-
mon in large towns.

The visit or call is, however, a much better institution than is gen-
erally supposed. It has its drawbacks. It wastes much time ; it
necessitates much small talk. It obliges one to dress on the chance
of finding a friend at home ; but for all this it is almost the only
means of making an acquaintance ripen into a friendship. In the
visit all the strain, which general society somehow necessitates, is
thrown off. A man receives you in his rooms cordially, and makes
you welcome, not to a stiff dinner, but an easy-chair and conversation.
A lady, who in the ball-room or party has been compelled to limit
her conversation, can here speak more freely. The talk can de-
scend from generalities to personal inquiries, and need I say that if
you wish to know a young lady truly, you must see her at home,
and by daylight.

The main points to be observed about visits are the proper occa-
sions and the proper hours. Now, between actual friends there is
little need of etiquette in these respects. A friendly visit may be
made at any time, on any occasion. True, you are more welcome
when the business of *the day is over, in the afternoon rather than
the morning, and you must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal-
times. But, on the other hand, many people receive visits in the
evening — another French custom — and certainly this is the best time
to make them.

As, however, during the season, you have but a slight chance of
finding your friends at home in the evening, another custom has
been imported from France into the best circles of English society,

LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 255

that, namely, of fixing a day in the week on which to receive even-
ing visitors without the ceremony of a party. The visit may then
last from one to two hours, and be made either in morning or even-
ing dress, the latter being the better. However, this custom is not
yet a common one, but I beg to recommend it to those who wish to
have friends as well as mere acquaintance.

The principal class of visits, then, is those of ceremony. The oc-
casions for these are — with letters of introduction, after certain par-
ties, and to condole or congratulate.

In the first case, letters are rarely if ever given to persons in Town.
The residence in town is presumed to be transitory, and letters of
introduction are only addressed to permanent residents. On the
other hand, they are necessary in the country, particularly when a
family take up their residence in a district, and wish to enter the
best society of the place. In this last case the inhabitants always
call first on the new-comer, unless he brings a letter of introduction,
when he is the first to call, but instead of going in, leaves it with a
card or cards, and waits till this formal visit is returned. In return-
ing a visit made with a letter it is necessary to go in if the family is
at home. u A letter of introduction," says La Fontaine, u is a draft
at sight, and you must cash it." In large towns there is no such
custom. It would be impossible for the residents to call on every
new comer, and half of the new arrivals might be people whose ac-
quaintance they would not wish to improve. If, however, you take
a letter of introduction with any special object, whether of business
or of a private or particular character, you are right to send in the
letter with your card, and ask for admission. Such letters should
only be given by actual friends of the persons addressed, and to
actual friends of their own. Never, if you are wise, give a letter to
a person whom you do not know, nor address one to one whom you
know slightly. The letter of introduction, if actually given to its
bearer, should be left open, that he may not incur the fate of the
Persian messenger, who brought tablets of introduction recommend-

256 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

ing the new acquaintance to cut his head off. A letter of this kind
must therefore be carefully worded, stating in full the name of the
person introduced, but with as few remarks about him as possible.
It is generally sufficient to say that he is a friend of yours, whom
you trust your other friend will receive with attention, &c. In
travelling it is well to have as many letters as possible, but not to
pin your faith on them. In foreign towns it is the custom for the
new comer to call on the residents first, just the reverse of ours.

Ceremonial visits must be made the day after a ball, when it will
suffice to leave a card ; within a day or two after a dinner party,
when you ought to make the visit personally, unless the dinner was
a semi-official one, such as the Lord Mayor's ; and within a week of
a small party, when the call should certainly be made in person.
All these visits should be short, lasting from twenty minutes to half-
an-hour at the most. There is one species of ' ' bore " more detesta-
ble than any other — the man, namely, who comes and sits in your
drawing-room for an hour or two, preventing you from going out to
make your own calls, or interrupting the calls of others. It is
proper when you have been some time at a visit, and another caller
is announced, to rise and leave, not indeed immediately, as if you
shunned the new arrival, but after a moment or two. In other
cases, when you doubt when to take your leave, you must not look
at your watch, but wait till there is a lull in the conversation.

Visits of condolence and congratulation must be made about a
week after the event. If you are intimate with the person on whom
you call, you may ask in the first case for admission ; if not, it is
better only to leave a card, and make your " kind inquiries1' of the
servant, who is generally primed in what manner to answer them.
In visits of congratulation you should always go in, and be hearty in
your congratulations. Visits of condolence are terrible inflictions
to both receiver and giver, but they may be made less so by avoid-
ing, as much as consistent with sympathy, any allusion to the past.
The receiver does well to abstain from tears. A lady of my acquaint-

VISITS OF CEREMONY. 257

ance, who had lost her husband, was receiving such a visit in her
best crape. She wept profusely for some time upon the best of
broad- hemmed cambric handkerchiefs, and then turning to her visi-
tor said : "I am sure you will be glad to hear that Mr. B has

left me most comfortably provided for. " Hinc illce lacrymce. Per-
haps they would have been more sincere if he had left her without
a penny. At the same time, if you have not sympathy and heart
enough to pump up a little condolence, you will do better to avoid
it, but take care that your conversation is not too gay. Whatever
you may feel, you must respect the sorrows of others.

On marriage, cards are sent round to such people as you wish to
keep among your acquaintance, and it is then their part to call first
on the young couple, when within distance.

I now come to a few hints about calling in general ; and first, as to
the time thereof. In London, the limits of calling hours are fixed,
namely, from three to six, but in the country people are sometimes
odious enough to call in the morning before lunch. This should not
be done even by intimate friends. Everybody has, or ought to have,
his or her proper occupation in the morning, and a caller will then
sometimes find the lady of the house unprepared. It is necessary
before calling to ascertain the hours at which your friends lunch and
dine, and not to call at these. A ceremonial call from a slight
acquaintance ought to be returned the next day, or at longest within
three days, unless the distance be great. In the same way, if a
stranger comes to stay at the house of a friend, in the country, or
in small country towns, every resident ought to call on him or her,
even if she be a young lady, as soon as possible after the arrival.
These calls should be made in person, and returned the next day.

The card is the next point. It should be perfectly simple. A
lady's card is larger than a gentleman's. The former may be glazed,
the latter not. The name, with a simple " Mr." or " Mrs." before it,
is sufficient, except in case of acknowledged rank, as M The Earl of
Ducie," "Colonel Marjoribanks," " The Hon. Mrs. Petre," and so
17

258 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

forth. All merely honorary titles or designations of position or office
should be left out, except in cards destined for purely official visits.
Thus our ambassador at Paris returns official visits with a card thus :
u L'Anibassadeur de Sa Majeste Britannique," but those of acquaint-
ance with " Lord Cowley " simply. The address may be put in the
corner of the card. The engraving should be in simple Italian
writing, not G-othic or Roman letters, very small, and without any
flourishes. Young men have adopted recently the foreign custom of
having their Christian and surname printed without the "Mr."
A young lady does not require a separate card as long as she is living
with her mother ; her name is then engraved under her mother's,
as: —

Mrs. Jones Broionsmith.

Miss Jones Brownsmith.

Or if there be more than one daughter presented, thus: —
Mrs. Jones Brownsmith.
The Miss Jones BrownsmitJis.

Which latter form can be defended as more idiomatic, if less gram-
matical, than * ' The Misses Jones Brownsmith ; " but it is a matter
of little importance. I cannot enter here on a grammatical discus-
sion, and the one form is as common as the other.

You will find a small card-case neater and more convenient than a
pocket-book ; and in leaving cards you must thus distribute them :
one for the lady of the house and her daughters — the latter are
sometimes represented by turning up the edge of the card ; one for
the master of the house, and if there be a grown up son or near male
relation staying in the house, one for him. But though cards are
cheap, you must never leave more than three at a time at the same
house. As married men have, or are supposed to have, too much to
do to make ceremonial calls, it is the custom for a wife to take her
husband's cards with her, and to leave one or two of them with her
own. If, on your inquiring for the lady of the house, the servant

LEAVING CARDS. 259

replies, u Mrs. So-and-so is not at home, but Miss So-and-so is," you
should leave a card, because young- ladies do not receive calls from
gentlemen, unless they are very intimate with them, or have passed
the Rubicon of thirty summers. It must be remembered, too, that
where there is a lady of the house, your call is to her, not to her
husband, except on business.

The Roman Assembly used to break up if thunder was heard,
and in days of yore a family assembly was often broken up very
hurriedly at the thunder of the knocker, one or other of the
daughters exclaiming, ' - I am not dressed, mamma ! " and darting
from the room ; but ladies ought to be dressed sufficiently to receive
visitors in the afternoon. As nerves have grown more delicate of
late years, it is perhaps a blessing that knockers have been super-
seded by bells. Where they remain, however, you should not rattle
them fiercely, as a powdered Mercury does, nor should you pull a
bell ferociously.

Having entered the house, you take up with you to the drawing-
room both hat and cane, but leave an umbrella in the hall. In
France it is usual to leave a great-coat down stairs also, but as calls
are made in this country in morning dress, it is not necessary to do
so.

It is not usual to introduce people at morning calls in large towns ;
in the country it is sometimes done, not always. The law of intro-
ductions is, in fact, to force no one into an acquaintance. You
should therefore ascertain beforehand whether it is agree'able
to both to be introduced ; but if a lady or a superior expresses a
wish to know a gentleman or an inferior, the latter two have no
right to decline the honor. The introduction is of an inferior
(which position a gentleman always holds to a lady) to the su-
perior. You introduce Mr. Smith to Mrs. Jones, or Mr. A. to Lord
B., not vice versa. In introducing two persons, it is not necessary
to lead one of them up by the hand, but it is sufficient simply to
precede them. Having thus brought the person to be introduced

260 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

tip to the one to whom he is to be presented, it is the custom,
even when the consent has been previously obtained, to say, with
a slight bow to the superior personage : ' ' Will you allow me to

introduce Mr. ?" The person addressed replies by bowing to

the one introduced, who also bows at the same time, while the in-
troducer repeats their names, and then retires, leaving them to con-
verse. Thus, for instance, in presenting Mr. Jones to Mrs. Smith,
you will say, " Mrs. Smith, allow me to introduce Mr. Jones," and
while they are engaged in bowing, you will murmur, u Mrs. Smith
— Mr. Jones," and escape. If you have to present three or four
people to said Mrs. Smith, it will suffice to utter their respective
names without repeating that of the lady.

A well-bred person always receives visitors at whatever time they
may call, or whoever they may be ; but if you are occupied and
cnnnot afford to be interrupted by a mere ceremony, you should
instruct the servant beforehand to say that you are u not at home."
This form has often been denounced as a falsehood, but a lie is no
lie unless intended to deceive ; and since the words are universally
understood to mean that you are engaged, it can be no harm to give
such an order to a servant. But, on the other hand, if the servant
once admits a visitor within the hall you should receive him at any
inconvenience to yourself. A lady should never keep a visitor
waiting more than a minute or two at the most, and if she cannot
avoid doing so, must apologize on entering the drawing-room.

In good society, a visitor, unless he is a complete stranger, does
not wait to be invited to sit down, but takes a seat at once easily.
A gentleman should never take the principal place in the room, nor,
on the other hand, sit at an inconvenient distance from the lady of
the house. He must hold his hat gracefully, not put it on a chair
or table, or, if he wants to use both hands, must place it on the
floor close to his chair. A well-bred lady, who is receiving two or
three visitors at a time, pays equal attention to all, and attempts
as much as possible to generalize the conversation, turning to all

COUNTRY-VISITING. 261

in succession. The last arrival, however, receives a little more at-
tention at first than the others, and the latter, to spare her embar-
rassment, should leave as soon as convenient. People who out-sit
two or three parties of visitors, unless they have some particular
motive for doing so, come under the denomination of u bores." A
u bore " is a person who does not know when you have had enough
of his or her company. Lastly, a lady never calls on a gentleman,
unless professionally or officially. It is not only ill-bred, but posi-
tively improper to do so. At the same time, there is a certain
privilege in age, which makes it possible for an old bachelor like
myself to receive a visit from any married lady whom I know very
intimately, but such a call would certainly not be one of ceremony,
and always presupposes a desire to consult me on some point or
other. I should be guilty of shameful treachery, however, if I
told any one that I had received such a visit, while I should certainly
expect that my fair caller would let her husband know of it.

A few words on visits to country houses before I quit this subject.
Since an Englishman's house is his castle, no one, not even a near
relation, has a right to invite himself to stay in it. It is not only
taking a liberty to do so, but may prove to be very inconvenient.
A general invitation, too, should never be acted on. It is often
given without any intention of following it up ; but, if given, should
be turned into a special one sooner or later. An invitation should
specify the persons whom it includes, and the person invited should
never presume to take with him anyone not specified. If a gentle-
man cannot dispense with his valet, or a lady with her maid, they
should write to ask leave to bring a servant ; but the means of your
inviter, and the size of the house, should be taken into consideration,
and it is better taste to dispense with a servant altogether. Chil-
dren and horses are still more troublesome, and should never be
taken without special mention made of them. It is equally bad taste
to arrive with a wagonful of luggage, as that is naturally taken as a
hint that you intend to stay a long time. The length of a country

262 VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, ETC.

visit is indeed a difficult matter to decide, but in the present day
people who receive much generally specify the length in their invi-
tation— a plan which saves a great deal of trouble and doubt. But
a custom not so commendable has lately come in of limiting the
visits of acquaintance to two or three days. This may be pardon-
able where the guest lives at no great distance, but it is preposter-
ous to expect a person to travel from London to Aberdeen for a stay
of three nights. If, however, the length be not specified, and can-
not easily be discovered, a week is the limit for a country visit,
except at the house of a near relation or very old friend. It will,
however, save trouble to yourself if, soon after your arrival, you
state that you are come ufor a few days," and, if your host wishes
you to make a longer visit, he will at once press you to do so.

The main point in a country visit is to give as little trouble as
possible, to conform the habits of our entertainers, and never to be
in the way. On this principle you will retire to your own occupa-
pations soon after breakfast, unless some arrangement has been
made for passing the morning otherwise. If you have nothing to
do, you may be sure that your host has something to attend to in
the morning. Another point of good-breeding is to be punctual at
meals, for a host and hostess never sit down without their guest,
and dinner may be getting cold. If, however, a guest should fail
in this particular, a well-bred entertainer will not only take no
notice of it, but attempt to set the late comer as much at his ease
as possible. A host should provide amusement for his guests, and
give up his time as much as possible to them ; but if he should be a
professional man or student — an author, for instance — the guest
should, at the commencement of the visit, insist that he will not
allow him to interrupt his occupations, and the latter will set his
visitor more at his ease by accepting this arrangement. In fact, the
rule on which a host should act is to make his visitors as much at
home as possible ; that on which a visitor should act, is to interfere
as little as possible with the domestic routine of the house.

GRATUITIES TO SERVANTS. 263

The worst part of a country visit is the necessity of giving gratui-
ties to the servants, for a poor man may often find his visit cost him
far more than if he had stayed at home. It is a custom which
ought to be put down, because a host who receives much should
pay his own servants for the extra trouble given. Some people have
made by-laws against it in their houses, but, like those about gra-
tuities to railway-porters, they are seldom regarded. In a great
house a man-servant expects gold, but a poor man should not be
ashamed of offering him silver. It must depend on the length of
the visit. The ladies give to the female, the gentlemen to the male
servants. Would that I might see my friends without paying them
for their hospitality in this indirect manner.

PAET -III.— THE INDIVIDUAL IN
COMPANY.

CHAPTER XI.

NERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

1 ' Board ! " cried a friend of mine one morning after a heavy
dinner party ; "it ought to be spelt ' bored. ' Never was a more
solemn torture created for mankind than these odious dinner-par-
ties. Call it society ! so you might call the Inquisition ; and I
really have my doubts whether I should not be as happy between a
couple of jailers, inserting another and another wedge into the terri-
ble boot, as between that garrulous old woman, who never waited for
an answer, and that nervous young lady who never gave one, with a

264 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

huge epergne between me and the rest of my fellow-creatures, an
occasional glimpse of an irritable, solemn host at one end, and a
most anxious hostess at the other. Upon my word, two whole
hours of this, with the most labored attempts at conversation all
round, in a dark room with a servant perpetually thrusting some-
thing across my shoulder, exciting each time a fresh alarm of a
shower of sauce or gravy ; stupidity worked up to stillness by bad
champagne and worse port, and, when every one is wearied to
death, a white -mouse ditty from the shy young lady, and another
hour and a half of that frantically garrulous old one — really is this
society ? "

Perhaps not ; but that is no reason why a dinner-party, properly
selected and properly served, should not be as pleasant a meeting as
any other. Indeed in England it ought to be pleasanter. The Eng-
lish are not famous for conversation ; but it has been proved, that
if you want them to talk, you must put something substantial into
their mouths. One thing is certain, namely, that a dinner-party is
the main institution of society in this country, and one which every
class and every denomination recognizes and permits. Many people
denounce balls as wicked, and consider evening parties frivolous,
but none see any harm in being well fed, and maae to drink a cer-
tain or uncertain quantity of wine. It certainly has often sur-
prised me, that at the very time when we are appealing to men of
all positions and all fortunes for subscriptions to relieve the desti-
tute poor — when starving brethren are crawling in their filthy rags
along the crowded pavement — when the homeless are crouching on
our door-steps, and perishing of hunger but a few streets off, the
noble philanthropist who presides at a meeting for their relief, and
the bishop who calls for charity for them from the pulpit, should
see no harm in encouraging, by their presence, the prodigality and
Sybarite luxury of professional dinner-givers (for they make it al-
most a profession). It is certainly strange, that while Scripture is
ransacked for texts inculcating alms-giving and the duty of feeding

THE MORALITY OF DINNER r ARTIES. 265

the hungry, those words of Solomon, which denounce the man who
gives to the rich, should be so completely overlooked. It is re-
markable that the man who can with difficulty be brought to give
a ten-pound note to keep a hundred souls alive, should, of his own
free-will, spend twice the sum once a week in feasting- with dainties
some dozen of his fellow -creatures, who can scarcely get up the
requisite amount of appetite to enjoy them. But, after all, it is
not so strange, for men are selfish, and the good-will of a few rich
is more highly prized than the gratitude of many poor.

But let this pass, and let us console ourselves by the reflection
that common sense, if no higher feeling, will in time simplify our
social banquets ; and that charity, some fifty years hence, will see
no harm, as it now would, in calling in the blind, the halt, and the
needy, to partake of the dishes we now spread only for the rich,
the fashionable, and the appetiteless. One rule, however, we may
gain at once from these considerations, that only the wealthy should
be dinner-givers, and the man who cannot "afford" £5 for the
starving, should on no account afford £20 for the well fed.

A dinner, like a pun, should never be made public unless it be
very good, but at the same time modern improvements enable it to
be that without being also very expensive. The goodness of a din-
ner does not consist in the rarity and costliness of the viands, but
in the manner in which they are cooked and served, in the various
concomitants which contribute to give it brilliance and elegance,
and yet more in the guests who eat it.

This last point is, in fact, the most important, so that the invita-
tion is only a second consideration to the dinner itself. The rules
for invitations, and some hints whom to invite are given in the next
chapter by my colleague. I need give but a few hints of my own.
People who have a large acquaintance and give dinners, should keep
a book in which to write the names of those who compose each
party, which prevents the mistake of asking the same person twice,
and of bringing precisely the same people together again when their

266 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

turn comes round. There are, indeed, some privileged persons like
myself, agreeable old bachelors, who, being* free from encumbrance
and full of talk, are always welcome and generally wanted. In
fact, such men run a risk of being known as professional diners out,
like the convives of Rome, so that it is a greater charity not to invite
them too often. And this reminds me that you should not ask a
man without his wife, though you may leave his sons and daughters
out of the calculation. Then, again, the very ancient had better be
left to dine at home, unless, like Lady Morgan, they preserve their
conversational powers. The invitation must be answered as soon as
possible, and the answer addressed to the lady of the house.

But the question whom to invite, is one which cannot be so easily
answered. First, there are some people whom you must invite
sooner or later, namely those at whose houses you have dined ; be-
cause you may neglect every Christian duty, and be less blamed
than if you omit this social one. This is certainly absurd, and
society becomes almost low when dinner-parties take the semblance
of a tacit contract, in which the one party undertakes to feed the
other to-day, if the other will feed him in return before the end of
the season. Yet I have known people not at all ashamed to com-
plain that they have not been asked to dinner, and not blush to say,
"They otoe us a dinner, you know." Somehow, then, you must
manage to acquit yourself of these dinner debts before the season
is over. Society condemns you severely if you do not pay your
debts of hospitality. Of course this applies only to people who
are known to be in the habit of giving dinners. Those who from one
cause or another do not do so, are still invited, though not so often.

But when you have done your duty religiously in this respect, you
have the world before you. Where to choose ? Now, after taking
into due consideration the congruities and sympathies of those you
may select, the chief point is to invite men and women — an equal
number of each of course — who can talk. By this I do not mean
your rapid utterers of small- talk, who can coin more pretty nonsense

WHOM TO INVITE. 267

in half an hour than a modern novelist in three months, but men,
who having gone through the world, and tamed their Pegasus with
the curb of experience, not being bound, Mazeppa-like, on the
back of some wretched hobby, can gallop smoothly over the themes
that life and the newspapers supply to wit ; men who view life
calmly from the height to which they have climbed, without preju-
dice and without awe ; and women who are capable of understand-
ing and answering such men as these. But you must carefully
avoid the eater, by which I mean both the gourmand and the gourmet,
both the alderman whose motto is quantity, and the epicure who
cries for quality. Of what good is it to pander to the greediness of
a vile being, whose soul lies in the stomach, as the (greeks affirmed
that it always did, and whose mind and thoughts are much in the
same region. If such men can talk at all, it is only of eating, and
if you do not feed them with the especial dainties they look for,
their gratitude shows itself in sneers at your hospitality when they
next dine out. Wits, again, and men who think themselves to be
so, should never be asked singly, for they will engross the conversa-
tion, and silence the rest. When asked in numbers, they keep one
another within limits.

The number of the guests is a difficulty. People find that it is more
economical to give large than small dinners, and will therefore con-
tinue to go on in solemn grandeur. But the best dinners are those
at which all the guests can join in a common conversation, to which
the host being within hearing of all his party can give the proper
lead. Such dinners alone can be agreeable to all, because no one is
dependent on the liveliness of his or her nearest neighbor for con-
versation. As it is, too many at dinner is nothing better than an
eating quadrille, where each person has a partner and is at his
mercy ; only that the dance lasts not an eighth of the time which
the leashed diner is compelled to pass in company with his part-
ner. Brillat Savarin says, that no dinner should have more than
twelve guests, and the old rule was, " neither less than the graces,

268 . DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER PARTIES.

nor more than the muses;" but London dinners oftener exceed these
limits than the reverse, while country dinners mount up to twenty.
Indeed, with some senseless people, the eclat of the dinner seems to
consist in the number of the guests, and the more you can feed the
more your glory. I am inclined to think that the old rule is the
best ; but as it was made for tables at which ladies never appeared,
some alteration must be made in it, and we may say generally, that
an even number is better than an odd one, and that it should be
either six, eight, or ten. The first, of course, is reserved for your
dinners of honor, when the men you admire and the women you
Jove — (two of each, for no man can find more than that number in
the world) — dine with you and your wife ; the second is your sociable
dinner, at which all the guests are more or less known to one an-
other ; and the third is your company dinner. If you exceed these
numbers, you may do what you will to make your dinner perfect,
your guests will spoil it all by falling into couples and eating in quad-
rille.

But there is another reason for limiting the number, namely, that
to give a good dinner, your means, your establishment, your dining-
room, the capacities of the table, and so forth, must all be taken
into consideration. But if the dinner is given to fourteen, sixteen,
or even eighteen, as is now common in large towns, you must either
increase your establishment and your expense not a little, or be con-
tent, as people are, to give them the regular "feed," in which every-
body knows beforehand what they will have. One cook, for in-
stance, cannot serve up properly for more than a dozen people ; three
men cannot wait properly on more than ten ; and a table which will
hold more than that number will be so large as to separate the op-
posite guests too far for easy and general conversation. Lastly, if
your means enable you to dine a hundred or a thousand every week,
you would be a madman to do so ; you might as well give your din-
ner to two only, for what of that essential harmony, that commu-
nion of mind and spirit, " the feast of reason and the flow of soul,"

THE DINING-ROOM. 269

can there possibly be between a hundred, nay, even seventy people,
some of them so far from one another that they could scarcely be
heard without a speaking trumpet ?

Having well selected your guests, you consider in what room to
dine them, for the regular dining-room is not always the most com-
fortable. If the party be small — six or eight— a large dining-room
will look very ghastly, and it should be borne in mind that dinner-
givers of good taste study comf oft more than grandeur, which latter
is simply vulgar whether in the house of a duke or a haberdasher.
The furniture of our dining-rooms is certainly improving a little.
Nothing could be more chilling to the mind and appetite alike than
the stone-colored walls, displaying the usual magnificent oil-paint-
ings of an unknown school, the bust of the master of the feast at
one end looking almost less solemn than the original under it, the
huge table with its cumbrous silver adornments, the stiff side-
board and the stiffer chairs. Whether it was a Puritanical attempt
at simplicity which insisted that if we would have a good dinner we
should mortify the flesh with bad concomitants, or whether it was a
foolish fancy that a dining-room should be cold, though the dinner
were hot, I cannot say ; but I feel that the man who makes dining
a study — and he who gives dinners should in charity do so — must go
farther in the improvements of the room than ^re yet have. Light
and an air of comfort are the main essentials. The temperature
must not, even in summer, be too low, for sitting at dinner produces
a chill in itself. Thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaumur are fixed
for it by the author of the Physiologie du gout ; but whatever the ex-
act temperature, it must be obtained before dinner by lighting the
fire some hours previously, and allowing it to burn rather low until
near the end of the meal, when it must be replenished. There are
very few days in an English summer when a small fire after dinner is
not acceptable. In very cold weather, when a large one is necessary,
it is not easy to manage 'so that one-half of the guests shall not
have their backs roasted and the other not be frozen, but there are

270 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

two ways of preventing* it— the one by a large glass screen before
the fire, the other by a table in the shape of a horse-shoe or of a
segment of a circle, of which the chord will be towards the fire. A
dinner-giver will then have his round or oval table so made as to be
divisible into two separate ones.

The shape of the table is, in fact, a more essential point than
some people think. In order that a dinner may be a social meeting,
not a mere collection of letes-a-tetes, as it used to be till recently,
and still is sometimes, the table must be of a shape which will not
make conversation difficult between any two or more of the guests.
The old parallelogram, with the stately host at the end and the radi-
ant but anxious lady st the other, was fatal to conversation. It was
too broad, too long, too stiff — the corners cut off the lord and lady
of the feast from their honored guests, and necessitated leaning
across ; while if Monsieur wished to make a remark to Madame, he
had, independently of the joints, epergne, and candelabra, a length
of table to impede him which compelled him to raise his voice most
unmusically. It caused a complete divorce, in fact, and Sir Cress-
well Cresswell could not more effectually sever man and wife than
that ancient u board" — for such it literally was in shape — used to
do. The modern table is oval. Some people dine at round tables,
like Arthur and his*knights, but these if large enough for a party,
will have a diameter every way too long to allow any two opposite
guests to converse. The horse-shoe table is suited only for a small
party, and the base should not be occupied. As for the long ' ; planks, "
which served us for tables at college, and still do so at public dinners,
they have the advantage over the mahogany of the dining-room, of
allowing a guest five persons to talk to instead of one, but they
make elegance almost impossible. A lozenge-shaped table, with the
points rounded off, sounds Epicurean, but it leaves open the question
— where are the host and hostess to sit ? At the oval table I need
scarcely say they sit in the middle of each side, opposite to one an-
other.

THE DINING-ROOM. 271

The dining-room must be, of course, carpeted even in the heat of
summer, to deaden the noise of the servants' feet. The chairs
should be easy, with tall slanting backs, but without arms. As they
should not be much higher than drawing-room chairs, the table must
be lowered in proportion. Each person should be provided with a
foot-stool.

Light is positively necessary to digestion, and no party can be
cheerful without it. It is difficult to have too much light, but pro-
fusion is less desirable than arrangement, while a mere glare be-
comes painful. G-as and candles should both be avoided on that and
other accounts, and the best media for lighting are carcelle, or mod-
erator-lamps, covered with open pink muslin, or tarlatane, which,
without diminishing, softens the light. .. The principal object is to
throw as much of it as possible on the table, with sufficient on the
faces of the guests. Lighting from the walls is apt to throw the lat-
ter into shade, and a chandelier in the middle must be hung very
low to do justice to the former. Lamps on the table itself are sim-
ply unpardonable, and must on no account be admitted. The best
plan is to have four chandeliers, containing each one large lamp,
and hung over the places where the four corners of the table would
come if it were a parallelogram instead of an oval. The rest of the
room, however, must not be left in darkness, and lamps may be placed
on the side-board and side-tables. The latter must be very neat,
and both should be ornamented richly with flowers rather than with
that pompous display of plate which is too commonly seen.

A few words about servants before we come to the table itself.
Women wait more quietly and quite as actively as men, but a butler,
who can carve well and rapidly, is indispensable. If, however, you
have men-servants, they should not be too many. A party of ten
can be perfectly well served by two men and a butler, and, if there
are more than these, they only get in the way of one another, or
stand pompously by staring while you eat. Your servants should be
well trained and instructed, and should obey every order given by

272 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

the butler. A master or mistress should never speak to them at din-
ner, and they must be themselves as silent as Sappists. They should
wear light shoes that cannot creak, and if they have a napkin instead
of gloves, you must see that their hands are perfectly clean. They
should have their1' beats" like policemen, one beginning at the
guest on his master's right and ending with the lady of the house,
the other with the guest on his mistress' right ending with the
master.

The table, on which all eyes are turned, is the next point. Great
changes have taken place in the last ten or fifteen years in its ar-
rangements, and as the Russian plan is now adopted in the best
houses, and is, at the same time, the most elegant, I shall not stop to
speak of any other. The main point is to secure beauty without in-
terfering with conversation. Given, therefore, a table-cover, and a
white damask table-cloth over it, what are we to place thereon?
First, nothing high enough to come between the heads of any two of
the party, and therefore must epergnes, lamps, and so forth, be es-
chewed as nuisances. Next, that which is pleasant and agreeable to
the eye, and something that it can dwell upon with pleasure. A
common' object for the centre is desirable, and this should be some
work of art, of Parian or china, not too high nor too large, and on
each side towards the thin ends of the oval should be bowls of bis-
cuit-ware or china, filled with flowers ; or, to be elegant, you may
have two little table-fountains, provided their basins are low. The
rest of the table must be covered with dessert. By this arrange-
ment plate becomes a secondary matter, and indeed a display of
massive silver is rather chilling, and always looks ostentatious. In
addition to the flowers mentioned, the French often place a bou-
quet on the napkin of each lady, and the attention is certainly a
pretty one. The place for each guest should be roomy, but not too
far from his neighbors. The dinner-service of the present day may
be reduced to plates alone, since everything else is served at the
side-table. I am inclined to think that pure white china with a gilt

ARRANGEMENT OF THE TABLE. 273

edge, and the best of its kind, is the fittest service to dine off, but
this is a matter of taste only. At any rate, the dessert-service
should be handsome. Bachelors at dinner have a great advantage
in having* their light wine placed by their glasses in black bottles,
but in other dinners the wine is handed. It will, however, be well
on all occasions to have sufficient glasses for all the wines to be
drunk placed on the right hand of each plate, and the same may be
said of knives, spoons, and forks. The napkins may be folded ac-
cording to fancy. Sometimes they are placed on the plate wdth a
roll of bread inside, and sometimes arranged in a fan-shape in the
champagne-glasses. For my own part, I prefer to think that no
hands have been soiling mine before I used it, and perhaps the most
elegant way is to lay them on the table or plate just as they come
from the washerwoman's.

No dish but those of dessert is placed on the table. I have spoken
of this, in the chapter on accomplishments, under the head of carv-
ing, and shall not again discuss the question. It suffices to say that
where 'Ton sait diner" no dish is either carved or helped at table.
But I am now going to recommend the revival of an ancient prac-
tice which is now gone out. It is that each plate should be filled
with soup and put in its place at table, at the very moment that the
guests are coming into the room. The object of this is to enable
every one to begin dinner at the same moment. The hungry do not
talk well, and the warm soup at once revives the spirits and slakes
the appetite. It is hard on a man to expect him to begin conversa-
tion while the ladies are sipping their soup and he is waiting for it.
Harmony and union are the essentials of dinner, and where it can be
so simply obtained, it is foolish to neglect it. Yet I have little
hope that this practice will be adopted, because English people seem
to think more of the pomposity than the comfort of their dinner,
and the butler and men are required to stand and look grand as the
guests pass in. I may here observe that the object of soup being
to "take the chill off" the appetite and prepare the inner man
18

274 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

for the receptions of solids, a light soup is better than a thick one,
which clogs the appetite ; turtle is only fit for an alderman, and
your soup may therefore be inexpensive.

After the soup the wine. Modern Englishmen have so far im-
proved upon their ancestors, that they no longer meet to drink but
to dine, and the amount of the wine is therefore of far less import-
ance than its quality. The order of the wines, reversing that of the
solids, is from the lightest to the strongest. The author of the Art
of Dining tells us that "sherry, champagne, port, and claret" are
indispensable to the dinner-table. I should be inclined to knock off
two of these, champagne and port, and put in a light Rhenish in
their place. Port has become almost an impossibility, for age is a
a sine qua non of jfchis wine, and unless you have long had a good
cellar, you have very little chance of obtaining it good. In fact,
though still placed on the table, the use of it seems to be restricted
to a few old gentlemen, who cannot give up their customary drink.
George the Fourth declared for sherry, and I cannot help thinking
he was right. At any rate, bad port is less drinkable than bad
sherry, and as you will too often have only this choice of evils, I beg
to hint how the alternative may be most prudently taken. Cham-
pagne, again, should be very good to be enjoyable, and it is also be-
coming more and more difficult to procure. Both port and cham-
pagne are doctored for every European market, and a friend of mine,
visiting a famous wine-grower at Epemay, tasted from the same cask
no less than five different wines, all manufactured in a few hours out
of the same original juice. I suspect that even an English wine-mer-
chant can produce as many different ' ' vintages " from the same
stuff, as M. Houdin does wines from the same bottle.

The mingling of water with wine is said to have been discovered
by an accident. A party of old Greeks, not famous for sobriety, had
been drinking on the sea-shore, when a storm arose, and in rapid
haste they retreated to a cave to take shelter. Probably they were
not in a fit condition for carrying their goblets with them steadily.

wine. 275

At any rate they left them on the shore, and when the storm was
over, found their wine converted by the rain into wine and water.
The allegation that the mixture spoils two good things, as two good
people are sometimes spoiled by marriage, is one which a tippler will
support more zealously than an epicure. Mr. Walker, in the
" Original," recommends even port and water ; but however this
may be, some Bordeaux wines gain, rather than lose, by the mix-
ture, and you may thus have, to accompany your eating, a cooling
drink which will not destroy your taste for the good wines to follow
it. A sensible man avoids variety in drinking. One French wine
during dinner, and sherry after it, or a German wine for the meal,
and claret for dessert, will leave you much happier than mingling
sherry, champagne, claret, and port. Great care should be used in
decanting wine, so as not to shake or cork it. Claret appears in a
glass jug, but rare French wines, particularly Bourgogne and the
Vins clu Midi, should be brought up and placed on the table in
their baskets, as decanting spoils them. Although the guest should
avoid variety, the host must provide it in order to meet the tastes
of all, and his servants should be taught to pronounce properly the
names of the different foreign wines, which are often so indistinct
that we are led into taking a white one when we wanted red, or a
French one when we expected Rhenish.

The bachelor has the great privilege of drinking beer at dinner if
he likes it. I cannot conceive how so good and harmless an accom-
paniment of eating came to be excluded from the well-served table,
unless from a vulgar fancy that what is not expensive should not be
set before a guest, however good it may be. How happy people
with these notions would be. in Ceylon, where Bass costs nearly a
shilling a glass. This reminds me of a story of some vulgar man
whose name I have forgotten, and do not care to remember. His
host simply enough said to his guest, " This wine cost me six shil-
lings a bottle." " Did it?" cried the other, "then pass it round,
and let's have another six-penn'orth." The connoisseur of beer

276 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

rightly judges that it is spoiled by bottling ; draught beer is also the
more wholesome. A glass of old port is generally substituted for
the beer with cheese, but the drink which the German student, an
ardent lover of it, tells you was discovered by

" Grabrantiua Konig von Brabant
Der zuerst das Bier erfand,"

is its more natural accompaniment.

If there were no other advantage in the Russian system, as it is
called, it would be worth adopting, only because it enables the
dinner-giver to offer more variety, instead of forcing him to sacrifice
taste to the appearance of his dishes. Thus the turbot and the cod
were once becoming standing dishes at all English dinners, and
small fish were banished because they did not put in a majestic
appearance. Yet there are many better fish than cod or turbot, and
there are many ways of dressing fish which may not be so agreeable
to the eye as to the palate. Then, again, how exquisite is the flavor
of some fresh-water fish, and of several kinds of shell-fish, which
we so seldom see at great dinners ! How much better the variety
of trout, perch in souchet, fried gudgeons, even eels, mussels, and
lampreys (both of which must be moderately indulged in, the one
producing very often a rash on the face, which is cured by large
quantities of fresh milk, and the other being notorious as a regi-
cide, which those who read the commonest history of England will
remember), than that perpetual turbot. In fact, no kind of eating
can be more varied than that of fish ; yet, by sticking to antique
traditions, we deprive ourselves of the enjoyment of all the wealth
of sea and stream. There are scores of ways of dressing them all,
too, which you can learn in any good cookery-book, and almost any
fish can be made not only eatable but delicious by clever cooking.
But vulgarity has driven many a good but cheap eatable from the
table of the rich ; and the Duke of Rutland was quite right to give
Poodle Byng his conge, when one of these despised delicacies
appeared at the Duke's table, and Poodle exclaimed, "Ah! mj old

fish. 277

friend haddock ! I have not seen a haddock on a gentleman's table
since I was a boy." Oysters, though eaten at dinner in France, are
properly excluded from table in England, as being much too heating,
and carp is very indigestible ; but there are the Devonshire John
Dory, a far better fish than turbot, red mullets, salmon trout, whit-
ings, smelt, mackerel, sturgeon, the favorite of the Emperor of China,
and even sprats and herrings, to form a variety besides those
mentioned before.

But our chief thanks to the new system are due for its ostracizing
that un wieldly barbarism — the joint. Nothing can make a joint
look elegant, while it hides the master of the house, and condemns
him to the misery of carving. I was much amused at the observa-
tions of a writer on the subject of dinners, who objected to flowers
on the table, ' ' because we don't eat flowers, and everything that is
on the table ought to be eatable." At this rate the cook would have
to dish up the epergnes and candelabra. But the truth is, that
unless our appetites are very keen, the sight of much meat reeking
in its gravy is sufficient to destroy them entirely, and a huge joint
especially is calculated to disgust the epicure. If joints are eaten
at all they should be placed on the side-table, where they will be
out of sight.

Vegetables should properly be served separately on a clean plate
after the roast, but when served with it, a guest should be satisfied
with at most two kinds at a time, nothing showing worse taste than
to load your plate. Asparagus, pease, artichokes, haricots, vegeta-
ble marrows, and spinach ought, if not a component part of a made
dish, to be served separately. There are many ways of dressing
potatoes and carrots, which last are a vegetable much neglected at
English tables, but when quite young, and dressed with butter in
the French fashion, a delicious eatable, and a preventive of jaundice,
which should recommend them strongly to professional diners-out.

But I am not a cook, and cannot go through every course with
you. It must suffice to say, that the dishes should not be too nmny,

278 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

and that good cooking and management make a better dinner than
either profusion or expenditure, or delicacies out of season. The
main points are originality and rarity, and to have the best of every-
thing, or not have it at all. Perhaps the strangest dinner I ever ate
was in tete-a-tete with a bachelor of small appetite. There were
but two courses. To the first we stood up, opening our own
oysters, and devouring them till we could eat no more. The second
course, to which we sat down, consisted of a dozen marrow-bones, of
which we each discussed six. They were as hot as they could be,
and excellent. A variety of vegetables completed this light repast,
and though I could have dined more largely, I was bound to confess
that my friend had given me a dinner which I should scarcely have
got elsewhere. Lest you should be tempted to offer a similar repast
to a large party, I must warn you that the marrow-bone is not
considered a presentable dish, and that the marrow must be ex-
tracted by a special kind of spoon, of which a clean one is required
for every bone.

Brillat Savarin says, that the order of the solids should be from
the heaviest to the lightest. . This is not strictly observed either in
France or England, and it may be useful to know what is the order
generally adopted in this country. It is as follows : —

1. Soup.

2. Fish.

3. Patties (of oysters, lobsters, shrimps, or minced veal).

4. Made dishes, or entrees, which include poultry.

5. The roast, or piece de resistance.

6. Vegetables.

7. The game.

8. Pastry, puddings, omelettes.

9. The ice.

10. The dessert.
The salad ought to have, but seldom has a place in this list,
namely, after the ice, and with cheese. When made as a may on-

DINNER ETIQUETTE. 279

naise, that is with, chicken, cold fish, or shell-fish, it comes in as a
made-dish.

Well, dinner is done, but not the diners. There remains on the
table what is a whole dinner in Italy, and what is dinner enough for
a poet — fruit and wine.

The etiquettes of dinner are not very numerous. We have already
spoken in Chapter VII. of the manners proper at the dinner-table.
We have now to consider a few duties of host and guest.

Punctuality may be the soul of business, but it is also that of
knife-and-fork play. Everybody must be punctual at the great
event of the day. u Dinner," said a French cook, " is the hope of
the hungry, the occupation of the idle, the rest of the weary, and
the consolation of the miserable ! " Can any one be guilty of delay-
ing such a moment ? The Romans complained that before the sun-
dial was discovered, one dined when hunger ordered, but afterwards
hunger had to wait for time. In our modern dining-rooms, we
have little fear that hunger will annoy any one, but sometimes a
delay may occur which may make hunger a very intimate acquain-
tance. Thus, Cambaceres, one of the best dinner-givers of his day,
once kept his guests waiting three hours, while he was engaged on
state business ; and Walpole relates how he once had to wait nearly
four hours for dinner at Northumberland House, because the Lords
were reading the Poor Bill. The guests sat down at last without
the Peers, but had not done when the legislators tumbled in and
had the whole dinner served up again. This dinner had been fixed
for the then fashionable hour of five, and did not finish till eleven.
However, this was more excusable than the case of a late nobleman,
who was seen mounting his horse for his afternoon ride, just as his
guests assembled in the drawing-room.

Next to the host and hostess, the cook ought to be punctual.
But the guest's arrival is more important still ; and the guest has
no excuse, because from the merest selfishness, or want of consider-
ation, he may put a whole party to inconvenience. The invited

280 DINNERS, DINERS, AND DINNER-PARTIES.

having arrived, the lady receives them in the drawing-room, and the
conversation is necessarily more or ]ess formal, for everybody is
waiting for the event. At last a servant announces that dinner is
ready. It is then the part of the host to pair off the guests. He
himself takes down the lady of the highest rank, or the greatest
stranger. Distinctions of rank are going out in good society, al-
though precedence exists just as a herald's office does ; but it may
generally be said that age has the real precedence, and a lady of
advanced years should not be put behind any one of rank under royal
blood. The most intimate with the family take the lowest, the
least so, the highest place. At dinner, the gentleman sits to the
right of the lady, so that the arrangement is easily made. In
France there is no procession of this kind, and the awkwardness
of precedence is thus avoided. There, all the guests enter pell-mell,
and find their names written on papers placed on their napkins.
Besides these papers a bill of fare is placed on each plate, when the
dinner is really good, and the dinner-giver an epicure.

It is the duty of the host to lead the conversation as much as
possible, and it is still more his duty to make it general. As, how-
ever, this art is little understood by Englishmen, a man will gener-
ally have to talk more or less to the lady on his left. He must take
care not to neglect her for the one on his right, however charming
the latter may be. The dinner over, and the servants dismissed,
the ladies sit for a short time at dessert and then retire ; the young-
est man in the room rises to open the door for them, and all the rest
rise and stand by their chairs. Then comes the " drawing-round,"
and the conversation grows lighter and easier. But young men and
old should beware of making it too light, or of running, as our bar-
risters often do, into stories that are unfit for ladies' ears.

A true gentleman will be the same in ladies' society as he is out
of it. A young man should not linger over his wine, and he may
rise and leave the dining-room before the others go. But it remains
with the host to offer to "join the ladies," which he should do

DINNER ETIQUETTE. 281

whenever lie sees any one growing" warm over his port and talking
too freely. Coffee and tea are both served upstairs, and both
should be hot. Coffee is drunk without milk, and with sugar ; tea,
by those who know how to enjoy it, without either ; but they are
the rarce aves of society, men who know what is good and enjoy it
quietly. A little green tea is necessary after wine, for it awakens
and excites. No man should drink enough wine to make him feel
too easy with the ladies. If he has done so without feeling its ef-
fects, he had better go home before he goes up to the drawing-room.
In France the gentlemen come away with the ladies, and there is
no wine-drinking. In England the custom is dwindling down to a
mere form, and the shorter you remain after the departure of the
ladies the better. But remember, that many meats require as
much as four hours to digest, and that the best aid to digestion is
lively, easy conversation. A dinner party breaks up at about eleven.
There should be a little music in the evening ; but it is a great mis-
take to have a regular evening party after a dinner. At eleven you
go home, and having had a walk, put on your white neck-tie for the
next event of the evening, which is discussed in the thirteenth
chapter.

CHAPTER XII.

LADIES AT A DINNER.

We have next to consider a lady in the all-important character
of a hostess at a dinner party.

Her first duty in this capacity is to send out her invitations in
due time and proper form. With regard to the time, it is necessary,
during the height of the London season, to send an invitation three
weeks before the dinner party ; but in the quiet season of the year,

282 LADIES AT A DESTNEK.

or in the country, it is neither essential to do so, nor usual. The
best plan for persons who give many dinner parties, is to have a plate
with their names and invitations printed thus :

Mr. and Mrs. — —

Request the favor of

Mr. and Mrs. 's

Company at dinner on the — —
at o'clock.

In writing to persons of rank far above your own, or to clergymen
of high dignity, such as bishops and deans, the word "honor"
should be substituted for " favor."

These invitations should properly be sent by a servant, and not by
the post, unless the distance be great.

Next comes the choice of guests, thus assembled, to sit in close
contact for two hours or more.

This involves many considerations. If your guests do not assimi-
late, no luxury of dinners, no perfection of manners on your part,
can avert a failure. Yet so little is this understood, that there are
persons who collect, as it would seem, a party so discordant as to
provoke a question whether they had not shaken them all in a bag
together, and turned them out loose upon each other — the man of
easy principles with the serious doctor of divinity ; the man of talent
with a rich and mindless merchant ; the quiet country family with
the trashy London dashers, and so on ; and these solecisms in taste
and discretion occur frequently. Nor ought the worldly positions
of people to be the sole consideration. Many a nobleman will assimi-
late far better with the poor author than with the millionaire ;
wealth, simply because it is wealth, gains little prestige in good
circles ; there is a prejudice against the nouveaux riches among the old
families of England. Neither is it desirable to club all your aristocratic
or fashionable acquaintance together ; you offend, by so doing, those

SELECTION OF GUESTS. 283

who are left out ; and many lose valuable friends who, however con-
scious they may be of an inferior position, do not like to be reminded
of it. It is something, too, to avoid giving pain to the feelings of
others.

The general rule, however, is to invite persons of nearly the same
standing in society to meet at dinner ; taking care that their general
views and mode of life are not so contrasted as to be likely to clash.
In the country, difference of politics used to form a barrier ; Whig
and Tory, even if they sat at table together, would scarcely drink
wine with each other. But all that inconvenience to host and host-
ess has long since passed away, and to the facilities of forming a
party the custom of no longer asking any one to take wine has
contributed.

Those who wish to form agreeable dinner-parties will avoid a class :
a dinner composed of officers only and their wives recalls too forcibly
barrack life ; u talking pipe-clay," as they term it, is as fatiguing as
" the ship," though not so vulgar. Wives of officers in marching
regiments have generally travelled far, and seen nothing ; they can
tell you little but how bad their quarters were, and how they were
hurried away from such and such a place. The gentlemen of the bar
sprinkled about, make a charming spice to a dinner; but like all
spices, one must not have too much of them : they want keeping
down, otherwise you have your dining-room turned into Westmin-
ster Hall ; or you feel, if you venture to talk yourself, as if you
were subjecting yourself to a cross-examination. Yet the late Lord
G-renville remarked, that he was always glad to meet a lawyer at a
dinner-party, for he was then sure that some good topic would be
started. The title of doctor is against the fascination of a physician's
manners ; his very attentions may seem to have an interested air,
since the doctor's clients are in society. A conclave of doctors is
even more formidable than one of lawyers, for the former have only
to deal with the constitution of the state, and the latter are looking,
perhaps, at your constitution, and privately condemning it. A

284 LADIES AT A DINNER.

whole party composed of clergymen, is perhaps, worse ; delightful as
companions, valuable as friends, as many clergymen are, when as-
sembled they run naturally into topics we do not wish to have famil-
iarized. Secular interests peep out from those we esteem sacred;
the pleasures of gastronomy, which are as fully appreciated by the
clergy as by any other class, seem so little to accord with the spirit-
stirring eloquence we heard last Sunday, that we regret having met
our " venerable rector" under such circumstances.

The next points refer to the duties of a lady on the arrival of the
guests at the house. She remains in some convenient part of her
drawing-room, and too much cannot be said of the importance of
her being dressed some time before the party arrives. Want of at-
tention in this respect, though very much less thought of now than
formerly, is a real breach of good manners. Neither should her
daughters, should she have any, come dropping in one by one, but
should be seated, ready to receive the visitors.

As her guests enter she should advance half-way to meet them.
This is a point of politeness ; and a lady in a county near London
gave great offence once at her first dinner, by standing with one arm
on her mantel-piece, waiting till her company came up to her. All
the chairs should be ready, so that there should be no placing or
needless confusion ; but, should any change in the arrangements of
the rooms be requisite, it should be made by the butler or by the
gentleman of the house. The lady of the house should do nothing
but receive, converse, and look as well as she can. To this end
her room and all the minutiaB should be tastefully arranged. A dis-
tribution of natural flowers adds greatly to the gayety of a drawing-
room, how richly or poorly soever it may be furnished : people are
apt to forget in England, what is never forgotten in France, how
greatly the style and arrangement of furniture contribute to make a
party go off well, and those engaged in it look well, of which "pleas-
ing fact people often have a sort of intuitive conviction, even with-
out the aid of the looking-glass.

RECEPTION OF GUESTS. 285

And now the test of good breeding in a hostess is to be detected ; it
is often a severe one. Her guests may arrive all at once, she must not
be hurried, yet each and all must feel that they have her individual
attention. She must have something pleasing and cheerful to say
to every one, but she must not say or do too much. Perhaps her
guests are late, or perhaps, worse martyrdom of all, her servants
are late in announcing dinner. She chafes inwardly ; but still feel-
ing as if on a stage, with an army of observation around her, she
bears up ; strikes out new subjects ; appears as if still expecting
some one ; no, nothing is to go wrong with her ; be it ever really so
wrong that day, she must not seem to notice it.

It may be argued that this implies a degree of self-restraint akin
to dissimulation ; but that is an error ; self-restraint does not imply
dissimulation. At length dinner is announced ; perhaps a few min-
utes previously some reckless youth, or sexagenarian, but probably
the former, since the being too late for dinner is not commonly the
fault of age, comes breathlessly in. I am shocked to say I have seen
married ladies look very much out of temper at the delinquent on
such occasions, especially if he happened to be u some one we must
ask " — a youth from college, or a country cousin — and I have heard
the gentleman call out i - dinner " to the servant before the door was
closed. The French host and hostess would die rather. In a well-
arranged party the butler should have a list of the guests, so that
he may know, as one after another comes in, that he may be plac-
ing the silver dishes with hot water in them on the table, arranging
the lights, and doing many little things that require time, and, if
omitted, cause delay.

The party being assembled, and diftner announced, the gentleman
of the house offers the lady of the highest rank his arm, and, having
previously arranged with the other gentlemen which ladies they are
to conduct, moves off with the one he has chosen to the dinner-ta-
ble, and places her on his right hand, next to himself.

The gentleman appointed to conduct the lady of the house almost

286 LADIES AT DINNER.

simultaneously offers her his arm ; they follow, and are followed in
their turn by the whole of the company, linked by previous arrange-
ment. As these various couples enter, the master of the house,
already in the dining-room, arranges where they are to sit. Some-
times, however, and in certain houses, this is not done, but, more
gracefully I think, the party seat themselves as they enter ; a due
sacrifice to the rules of etiquette having been made by the master
and mistress of the house in their own persons.

It is still customary, but not invariably so, as formerly for a lady
to sit at the head of her own table. Let us, however, suppose her
there, as being the most frequent arrangement.

Henceforth she has nothing to do with the dinner, except to par-
take of it. In old times, the lady presiding was expected to carve
every dish before her, and to be perfect in the art of carving. Lady
Mary Montague, presiding at her father's table, was condemned, at
fifteen, to perform this feat whenever her father had a party, fiad
she lived now she need never have touched a spoon, fork, or knife,
except those on her own plate ; her lovely face might have beamed
serenely on those around her ; and her dawning powers of mind have
been enhanced by conversation, which was in those days impossible.
In the present era, whilst the hostess should, as it were, see every-
thing that goes on, or does not go on, she should look at nothing,
say nothing, and reserve all strictures on failure and reproof, if
needful, not until the time when guests shall have departed, but
until the next day, when her servants, having recovered the fatigue
of unusual exertion, will be more willing to listen without irritation
and to good effect than on the previous evening.

Drinking much wine is vulgar, whether the sin be perpetrated by
a duchess or a farmer's wife : all manifest self-indulgence tends to
vulgarity. A lady, also, should not be ravenous at table ; neither
should she talk of eating or of the dishes. Whatever conversation
takes place should be easy ; if possible sensible, even intellectual,
without pedantry. It may be personal, if with prudence ; for noth-

CONVERSATION AT DINNER. 287

ing is so agreeable, for instance, as to hear public characters discussed
at table ; and there is a natural love of biography in the human
mind that renders anecdote, without scandal, always agreeable. The
conversation at dinner tables is usually carried on in an undertone,
and addressed first to one neighboring gentleman, then to another.
In large dinner-parties general conversation is impossible. It is only
at that delightful form of social intercourse, a small party, that one
may enjoy the luxury of an animated and general conversation.

It is now the custom for ladies to retire after the ice and dessert
have gone round. They then retire, almost in the same order as
they came, to the drawing-room. Here the province of the lady of
the house is to maintain easy and cheerful conversation, and to make
it, if possible, general. Her labors are often not well repaid, but, in
modern times, are not of long duration.

One is tempted, however, sometimes to envy the French customs.
At a Parisian dinner-party, each gentleman rises with his appointed
lady neighbor, gives her his arm, and leads her into the drawing-
room, where coffee comes in directly. Thus the evening begins.
In some instances the gentlemen, and ladies also, soon take their
leave ; in others, remain till ten or eleven o'clock. But the dreary
interregnum which still occurs in this country, whilst mine host is
circulating the bottle below — and ladies are discussing their servants,
the last tooth their baby cut, or the raging epidemic, in the drawing-
room above — is unknown in the salons of Paris.

It must not be forgotten that all the comfort and part of the suc-
cess of a dinner-party must depend on the previous arrangements ;
but the qualities which regulate a house, and the experience which
is brought to bear upon the important knowledge of how to give a
dinner-party, so far as the material part is concerned, is not in my
province.

In conclusion, let us recall the advice of Napoleon the First, who
duly respected the importance of dinner-parties as a social institution :
11 Tenez bonne table, et soignez lesfemmes."

'288 BALLS.

CHAPTER XIII.

BALLS.

Balls are the paradise of daughters, the purgatory of chaperons,
and the Pandemonium of paterfamilias. But when he has Arabella's
ball-dresses to pay for ; when mamma tells him he cannot have the
brougham to-night, because of Lady Fantile's dance ; when he finds
the house suddenly filled with an army of upholsterer's men, the pas-
sage barricaded with cane-bottomed benches, the drawing-room pil-
laged of its carpet and furniture, and in course of time himself
turned bodily out of his own library with no more apology than,
" We want it for the tea to-night ;" when, if he goes to bed, there is
that blessed — oh ! yes, blessed — horn going on one note all night
Long, and, if he stops up has no room to take refuge in, and must by
force of circumstances appear in the ball-room among people of
whom he does not know one quarter, and who will perhaps kindly
put the final stroke to his misery by mistaking him for his own
butler; when paterfam. undergoes this and more, he has no
right to complain, and call it all waste of time and pure folly. Will
he call it so when Arabella announces that she is engaged to the
young and wealthy Sir Thysse Thatte, Bart., and that it was at one
ball he met her, at another he flirted, at a third he courted, and at a
fourth offered ? Will he call it so when he learns that it is the balls
and parties — innocent amusements — which have kept his son Augus-
tus from the gaming-table, and Adolphus from auracoa f Perhaps
he will give them a worse epithet when they have killed Ada and
worn out her mother. But then whose fault was that ? Est modus
in rebus, and balls in moderation are as different from balls in excess
as gun-practice at Woolwich from gun-practice at Delhi.

There is not half enough innocent amusement in England, and,
therefore, there is far too much vice. I should like to see dancing
come in and drinking go out (as it would do) among our lower orders.

THE INVITATIONS. 289

I should like to see Clod clap his heels together on the village green
mstead of cloggmg Ms senses with bad beer at the village pubS
house. They do so inFrance, and the French are a sober race com
pared wzth the English. It wovdd improve the health of the To
men and the morals of the men. Bnt this is not my present affair.
The advantage of the ball in the npper classes is, that it brings
yonng people together for a sensible and innocent recreation,^
takes them away from silly, if not bad ones ; that it gives them exer-
cise, and that the general effect of the beanty, elegance, and bril-
liance of a baU is to elevate rather than deprave the mind

Bal Is can only be given often by the rich, bnt ball-goers are ex-
pected to ten ball-givers once a year at least, and your one dance,
if well arranged, will cost you as much as your dinners for the whole
season. It ls not often then that people who have no daughters
and are too old to dance themselves, give a ball; and, as a rule 5
you cannot afford to do it in good style, it is better to leave it all

The d^VT"' n° °ne WU1 Mame y°U f °r not **** » «ance.'
^C5 ^ ^ t0 ** ** «*!* * *> *>> ** time
When you have made up your mind to give a ball, and have suc-
ceeded in fixing a day when there will be no very grand affair such
as a court-ball, to take your guests away, the first thing to do is to
send the invitations.

" How many shall we ask, Arabella ? "

'« Oh ! at least two hundred, mamma. I do so like a large ball "

■ Nonsense, my dear, our rooms won't hold eighty with comfort »

iben there is the staircase."
" A pleasant prospect for late comers "
"And the hall."
| j Where they will have the society of the footmen-very agreeable »

And the conservatory," urges Arabella.
"No, my child, that is reserved for flirtations. In short if we
have more than a hundred, it will be a terrible crush."
19

290 BALLS.

u But, mamma, a crush, is quite the fashion. I'm sure people
here in London don't go to balls to dance."

" What for then, Miss Wisdom? "

' ' To say they have been there ; to say it was a frightful crush
at the Joneses ; to see their neighbors, to be sure. "

" And to be melted with the heat."

" Well, we can ice them, mamma."

However, Arabella is partly right. In London, and during the
season, if a ball is given as a formality, and the rooms are not large,
it is better to give up the hope of comfortable dancing, and have
the renommee of a crush. Al] the gentlemen who failed to get into
the drawing-room, and all the young ladies whose dresses were hope-
lessly wrecked, will execrate but still remember you, and it is some-
thing to be remembered in London, whether well or ill. So that
when you have called your guests together as close as sheep in a
fold, allowed them to take an hour to climb the stairs, and half an
hour to get down again, given them a supper from Gunter's, with
champagne of the quality which induced impudent Brummell to ask
for u some more of that cider ; very good cider that," you have done
the notorious if not the agreeable thing, and Mrs. Fitzj ones' ball will
be talked of and remembered. But there are better ways of achiev-
ing this highly desirable notoriety of three days' duration.

Any number over one hundred constitutes a ' c large ball," below that
number it is simply "a ball," and under fifty " a dance." I have
been at a bail of ten tliousand, as large as the garrison of Paris it-
self, given by Madame Hausmann at the Hotel de Yille in that city,
and yet, though it was not uthe thing" to dance there, the rooms
looked almost empty, so many and so large were they. On the
other hand, I have been at the Tuileries when there was not a tenth
of that number, and found the dancing confined to one little spot in
the long gallery, about as large as an ordinary London drawing-
room. In short, the numbers must be proportioned to the size of
the rooms, with this proviso, that the more you have, the more bril-
liant, the fewer you have, the more enjoyable it will be..

THE PROPER NUMBER. 291

In making your list, yon mnst not take in all your acquaintance, but
only all those who are movable — the marionettes, in fact. Middle-
aged people think it a compliment to be asked to a ball about as
much as the boa-constrictor in the Regent's Park would. Both he
and they like to be fed, and after five-and-thirty, it is laborious not
only to dance, but even to look at dancing.

' ' What shall we do for gentlemen, mamma ? , I have counted up
thirty-eight young ladies who dance, and only twenty-five partners
for them."

In some places this is a question to which there is no answer but
despair. Young men are at a premium in the ranks of Terpsichore
as much as those of death, and they must be bribed to join by as
large a bounty, in the shape of a good supper. " I shan't go to the
Fitzjoneses," yawns De Boots of the Scotch Muffineers ; lt the cham-
pagne was undrinkable last year, and the pdte-de-foie gras tasted
like kitten." How De Boots of the Muffineers comes to know the
taste of kitten does not transpire.

u Well, my love," says mamma, "we must get some intimate
friends to bring a young man or two."

Thereupon there is a casting up of who knows whom, and whom
it would be best to commission as recruiting sergeant. But mamma,
Arabella, and the intimate ami de la maison may talk and write and
labor, they will never make up the full war complement, and wall-
flowers will flourish still. This system of ■' bringing a friend " is a
very bad one, and should be avoided. It reminds me of a story
of worthy Mrs. P — , who had Junot's house in Paris, and in
its magnificent rooms gave some of the largest and most brilliant
balls, but, owing to the " friend" system very mixed. So much so
that on one occasion a gentleman went up to her and told her that
there was one of the swell mob present. Mrs. P — was deaf and
amiable. Ci Dear me," she replied, u is there really ? I hope he has
had some supper." But the disciple of Fagin had taken care of
himself : he had not only had suxmer, but when he had done using

292 BALLS.

his fork and spoon, had, in the neatest manner, pnt them away in
his pocket, so that the next time I went to Mrs. P — 's, I fonnd a
onouchard sitting near the door, behind a large book. I was asked
my name and address, and doubtless my description was taken down
too. I found that ladies as well as gentlemen were treated in this
way.

Your best plan, therefore, is to invite only one-third more than
your rooms will hold, for you may be sure that more than that num-
ber will disappoint you. The invitations should be sent out three
weeks beforehand, and you need not expect answers, except from
those who have an excuse for not accepting.

The requisites for an agreeable ball are good ventilation, good ar-
rangement, a good floor, good music, a good supper, and good com-
pany. The arrangements are perhaps more important than any
other item, and in this country they are little understood or greatly
neglected. Yet the enjoyment of the dancers is materially increased
by the brilliance and elegance of the details ; beauty and dress are
enhanced by good lighting or proper colors, and the illusion of a
fairy like scene may be brought up by judicious management, and
the concealment of everything that does not strictly accord with
the gayety. In Paris, where balls, in spite of the absence of supper,
are more elegant than anywhere else, a vast deal of effect and fresh-
ness is secured by the employment of shrubs, plants, and flowers,
and these may be freely used without making your rooms fantastic.
Thus that odious entrance from the kitchen stairs, which yawns
upon the lobby of most London houses, should be concealed by a
thick hedge of rhododendrons in pots ; the balustrades of the stair-
case and gallery should be woven with evergreens, and all the fire-
places should be concealed by plenty of plants in flower. In Paris,
again, the musicians are unseen, and the strains of the piano, horn,
flageolet, and violin proceed from behind a flowery bank, artfully
raised in one corner of the ball-room.

It is a rare thimr in London to find more than four or five rooms

LIGHTING. 293

en suite, and often the number does not exceed two. In the " flats "
of the large French houses, you have often as many as seven or
eight rooms opening one into another, and so much is the advantage
of space recognized, that a bed-room even is opened at the end of
the suite, if necessary. I have danced in a room where the grand
bed was standing in an alcove, scarcely concealed by thin muslin
curtains, and disguised with a coverlet of embroidered white satin.
But in England, any sacrifice should be made to secure a refreshment-
room, if not a supper-room, on the same floor as the ball-room,
nothing being more trying to ladies' dresses than the crush down
and up the stairs. A cloak-room down stairs for the ladies, with
one or two maids to assist them ; a tea and coffee-room, with at least
two servants ; and a hat-room for gentlemen, are indispensable. If
the ball is a large one, numbered tickets should be given for the
cloaks and hats.

Upstairs the color and lighting of the rooms is essential. The
ball-room especially should be that which has the lightest paper ;
and if there be dark curtains, particularly red ones, they must be
taken down and replaced by light ones. The best color for a ball-
room is very pale yellow. The light should come from the walls,
heightened by strong reflectors. Chandeliers are dangerous, and
throw a downward shadow ; at any rate, wax should always bo re-
placed by globe lamps. After the Tuileries' balls, we often returned
with complete epaulettes of wax-spots on our shoulders, if in mo-
ments of carelessness we had stood under the chandeliers. Gas is
heating, and throws rather a sickly glare

How can we dance well without a proper ground ? It was all
very well for nymphs and satyrs to ' ' trip it on the light fantastic
toe " over greensward and pebbly paths, but then they did not waltz
a deux temps. A "carpet-dance" is a bad dance, and the cloth
drawn over the Kidderminster is seldom tight enough, and never so
good as a floor. English people have as great a horror of taking up
their carpets as Frenchmen are supposed to have of washing their

294 BALLS.

necks. Probably the amount of dust which, would meet their gaze
is too appalling to think of. Then, again, English boards are of a
wood which it is nob easy to polish. Commend me to the old oak
floors, which, with a little bees-wax, come out as dark as ebony,
and help the unskilled foot to glide. However, a polished floor,
whatever the wood, is always the best thing to dance on, and if you
want to give a ball, and not only a crush, you should hire a man
who, with a brush under one foot, and a slipper on the other, will
dance over the floor for four or five hours, till you can almost see
your face in it. Above all, take care that there is not bees-wax
enough to blacken the ladies' shoes. It is the amount of rubbing
which must give it the polish.

Four musicians are enough for a private ball. If the room is not
large, do away with the horn ; the flageolet is less noisy, and marks
the time quite as well. A piano and violin form the mainstay of the
band ; but if the room be large, a larger band may be introduced
to great advantage. The dances should be arranged beforehand,
and for large balls you should have printed a number of double
cards, containing on the one side a list of the dances ; on the other
blank spaces to be filled up by the names of partners. A small
pencil should be attached to each card, which should be given to
each guest in the cloak-room. Every ball opens with a quadrille,
followed by a waltz. The number of the dances varies generally
from eighteen to twenty-four, supper making a break after the
fourteenth dance. Let us suppose you have twenty-one dances ;
then seven of these should be quadrilles, three of which may be
lancers. There should next be seven waltzes, four galops, a polka,
a polka-mazurka, and some other dance.

We come at last to what some people of bad taste think the most
important part, — the eating and drinking. As a first rule, it may
be laid down that nothing should be handed in a ball. A refresh-
ment-room is, therefore, indispensable. The ladies are to be first
considered in this matter. The refreshments may be simple, com-

REFRESHMENTS. 295

prising tea, lemonade, that detestable concoction called negm, iced
sherbet, ices, wafers, cakes, and bonbons. In French partie's they
give you, towards the end of the evening, hot chocolate, and this is
coming into fashion in England, and is certainly very refreshing. In
the south of Germany, a lady asks you to fetch her a glass of beer ;
in Munich, this is customary even in the court-circles. There is a
terrible prejudice against beer in England, but it is perhaps the
best thing to drink after dancing. Fancy our pretty Misses quaffing
their pint of Bass ? Yet why not ? In Germany and France, and
now, too, in England, the favorite bonbon is a chestnut or slip of
orange in a coat of candied sugar. I remember well at Munich
a trick that was played on an old geheim-rath, who was known to
have a violent passion for oranges glacees, and suspected of carrying
them away in his pockets in large quantities. A number of young
officers managed to stuff his coat-pockets with these bonbons with-
out his discovering it, and then one of them, assuming great inter-
est in the old gentleman, induced him to sit down for a little chat.
When he g*ot up again there was a stream of orange juice issuing
from each coat-tail, and the old man pottered about quite uncon-
scious of the amusement he excited.

The supper, of course, has a separate room, which must be well lit.
Of its contents, as I am not a confectioner, I can say nothing. Two
things I can say : Ice everything (in a London season) that can be
conveniently iced, and let there be nothing that requires carving.
The fowls and birds should, therefore, all be cut up. The supper
hour in London is generally midnight, after which it goes on till the
end of the ball. In England, it is usually served with much expense
and display on a table, round which all the dancers stand ; but in
France, even at the Tuileries, it is arranged on long buffets, as in
our public balls, the servants standing behind, and thus saving a
vast deal of pushing about, and much trouble to the gentlemen.
Another importation from France, is the custom of giving hot soup
at supper, and a very good one it is. In fact, hot things are still to

296 BALLS.

be desired for supper, and always will be acceptable. At a ball no
one sits down to supper ; at a small dance the ladies sit, and the
gentlemen stand behind them. A lady should never drink more
than one glass of champagne, nor a man more than two. There is
a modern custom, which saves the pockets of ball-givers, and is most
grateful to dancers, that of giving the men bottled beer. No man
of sense will drink bad gooseberry when he can get good Bass. The
latter refreshes more, and intoxicates less; but until we become
sensible on this point, champagne will remain as indispensable an
element of the ball-supper as trifle tipsy-cake, and mayonnaise ;
which last, if made with fish, is the best dish you can eat at this meal.

I now pass to the etiquettes of the ball-room.

In the days when bows were made down to an angle of 45°, and it
took two minutes to sink and two to rise in a courtesy, the givers
of balls must have been punished for their entertainment by a stiff-
ness the next day quite as trying as that of the young gentleman
who has followed the hounds for the first time in his life. As for
the worthy Prefect and Madame la Prefecte de la Seine, they would
have been carried away lifeless with fatigue before the half of the
thousands had had their bow in the receiving-room of the Hotel de
Ville at Paris. In the present day the muscles of the mouth are
brought more into requisition, and for the time being the worst of
Xantippes must turn into an angel of amiability if she gives a ball.
The lady of the house must, in short, linger till supper-time in the
neighborhood of the door by which her guests enter the rooms ; she
must have a pleasant smile for everybody ; and, if possible, she
should know everybody's name, and how many they are in family.
To a large ball you ask a great number of people with whom you
have a slight acquaintance, and of course a number of gentlemen
arrive who may be your husband's or son's friends, or recruits levied
by an ami de la maison. To these a bow rather more inclined than
to your own friends, and a particularly amiable smile, is necessary ;
but in order to put them quite at their ease, you should be able to come

RECEIVING THE GUESTS. 297

forward and say some little polite phrase or other. c ' Are we not to
have the pleasure of seeing* more of your party ? " perhaps you ask,
when a mamma and one daughter are announced. But if there are
no more of them to come, how awkward for you and them ! So too
it is wise to avoid asking- after relations, unless you are quite sure
about their existence. What can the bereaved widower say or look,
when in the excess of your amiability you inquire, ''How is Mrs.

? " The master of the house, too, if he is not gone out of town

" on business," for that night, should be in the neighborhood of his
spouse, in order to introduce to her any of his own recruits. The
sons will hang about the same quarter for the same purpose, but the
daughters will be otherwise occupied. It is their duty to see that
the dances are formed, and a well-bred young lady does not dance
till she has found partners for all the young ladies or as many of
them as can be supplied from the ranks of the recruits present. Now
and then you will see her dart anxiously out upon the landing, to
press into the service those languid loungers who are sure to be
hanging about the doors. She has the right to ask a gentleman to
dance without having a previous acquaintance, but she must be
careful how she uses it. I have known a case where a distinguished
young man having declined her invitation to dance, but being
pressed by, "I can't make up the lancers without you," somewhat
reluctantly accepted, performed his part so well, that his partner
was quite eprise with him, and even ventured on a little flirtation.
You can imagine her dismay, when later in the evening she saw her
charming acquaintance carrying up a pile of plates from the kitchen
to the supper-room. For the first time in her life she had danced
with an occasional waiter. The genus wall-flower is one that grows
well in every ball-room, but a young lady, however plain, however
stupid, can, if she dances well, always have some partners. The
great thing is to secure the first, who, on retiring, will say to some of
his friends, " I'll tell you who dances well; that girl in pink, Miss
A , I advise you to get introduced to her." The right of in-

298 BALLS.

troducing rests mainly with the ladies and gentlemen of the house,
but a chaperon may present a gentleman to her charge ; or if you,
being a man, are intimate with a young lady, you may ask her per-
mission to introduce some friend. It is in very bad taste to refuse
this permission, but if a lady has an insuperable objection to the
person in question, she may decline to dance altogether, or refer the
applicant to her chaperon. In France, as I have said, no introduc-
tion is needed, though English young ladies generally expect it even
at French parties. At any rate, if a gentleman comes up to her and
asks her to dance, she must not reply, as a celebrated English beauty
once did at the Tuileries, u I have not the pleasure of your acquain-
tance," by which she required the reputation of very bad breeding.

A young lady must be very careful how she refuses to dance with
a gentleman. Next to refusing an offer of marriage, few things
are so likely to draw upon her the indignation of the rejected appli-
cant, for unless a good reason is given, he is apt to take it as evi-
dence of a personal dislike. There is a great deal of polite (?) false-
hood used on these occasions. UI am sorry that I am engaged."
" I have a slight headache, and do not intend to dance ;" but a lady
should never be guilty even of a conventional lie, and if she replies
very politely, asking to be excused, as she does not wish to dance
(" with you," being probably her mental reservation), a man ought
to be satisfied. At all events, he should never press her to dance
after one refusal. The set forms which Turveydrop would give for
the invitation are too much of the deportment school to be used in
practice. If you know a young lady slightly, it is sufficient to say
to her, "May I have the pleasure of dancing this waltz, etc., with

you V " or if intimately, ' ' Will you dance, Miss A ? " The

young lady who has refused one gentleman has no right to accept
another for that dance ; and young ladies who do not wish to be
annoyed must take care not to accept two gentlemen for the same
dance. In Germany such innocent blunders often cause fatal re-
sults. Two partners arrive at the same moment to claim the fair

BALL-ROOM ETIQUETTE. 299

one's hand ; she vows she has not made a mistake ; u was sure she
was engaged to Herr A , and not to Herr B ;" Herr B

is equally certain that she was engaged to him. The awkwardness
is, that if he at once gives her up, he appears to be indifferent about

it ; while, if he presses his suit, he must quarrel with Herr A ,

unless the damsel is clever enough to satisfy both of them ; and

particularly if there is an especial interest in Herr B , he yields

at last, but when the dance is over, sends a friend to Herr A .

Absurd as all this is, it is common, and I have often seen one Herr
or the other walking about with a huge gash on his cheek, or his
arm in a sling, a few days after a ball.

Friendship, it appears, can be let out on hire. The lady who was
so very amiable to you last night, has a, right to ignore your exis-
tence to-day. In fact, a ball-room acquaintance rarely goes any
farther, until you have met at more balls than one. In the same
way a man cannot, after being introduced to a young lady to dance
with, ask her to do so more than twice in the same evening. On
the Continent, however intimate, he must never dance twice with
the same lady, that is, if she be unmarried. Mamma would inter-
fere, and ask his intentions if he did so. In England a man of
sense will select at most one or two partners, and dance with them
alternately the whole evening. But then he must expect comment
thereupon, and a young lady who does not wish to have her name
coupled with his, will not allow him to single her out in this manner.
However, a man may dance four or even five times with the
same partner without this risk. On the other hand, a really well-
bred man will wish to be useful, and there are certain people whom
it is imperative on him to ask to dance — the daughters of the house,
for instance, and any young ladies whom he may know intimately ;
but most of all the well-bred and amiable man will sacrifice himself
to those plain, ill-dressed, dull-looking beings who cling to the wall,
unsought and despairing. After all, he will not regret his good-
nature. The spirits reviving at the unexpected invitation, the wall-

300 BALLS.

flower will pour out her best conversation, will dance her best, and
will show him her gratitude in some way or other. So, too, an
amiable girl will do her best to find partners for her wall-flower
friends, even at the risk of sitting out herself.

The formal bow at the end of a quadrille has gradually dwindled
away. At the end of every dance you offer your right arm to your
partner (if by mistake you offer the left, you may turn the blunder
into a pretty compliment, by reminding her that it is le bras du coeur,
nearest the heart, which if not anatomically true, is at least no
worse than talking of a sunset and sunrise), and walk half round the
room with her. You then ask her if she will take any refreshment,
and, if she accepts, you convey your precious allotment of tarlatane
to the refreshment room to be invigorated by an ice or negus, or
what you will. It is judicious not to linger too long in this room, if
you are engaged to some one else for the next dance. "You will
have the pleasure of hearing the music begin in the distant ball-
room, and of reflecting that an expectant fair is sighing for you like
Mariana —

" He cometh not," she said.
She said, ■' I am a- weary a-weary,
I would I were in bed ; "

which is not an unfrequent wish in some ball-rooms. A well-bred
girl, too, will remember this, and always offer to return to the ball-
room, however interesting the conversation.

If you are prudent you will not dance every dance, nor, in fact,
much more than half the number on the list ; you will then escape
that hateful redness of face at the time, and that wearing fatigue the
next day which are among the worst features of a ball. Again, a gen-
tleman must remember that a ball is essentially a lady's party, and in
their presence he should be gentle and delicate almost to a fault, never
pushing his way, apologizing if he tread on a dress, still more so if he
tears it, begging pardon for any accidental annoyance he may occa-
sion, and addressing everybody with a smile. But quite unpardona-

BALL-ROOM MANNERS. 301

ble are those men whom one sometimes meets, who, standing in a
door-way, talk and laugh as they would in a barrack or college-
rooms, always coarsely, often indelicately. "What must the state of
their minds be if the sight of beauty, modesty, and virtue does not
awe them into silence. A man, too, who strolls down the room with
his head in the air, looking as if there were not a creature there
worth dancing with, is an ill-bred man, so is he who looks bored;
and worse than all is he who takes too much champagne.

If you are dancing with a young lady when the supper-room is
opened, you must ask her if she would like to go to supper, and if
she says u yes," which, in 999 cases out of 1,000, she certainly will do,
you must take her thither. If you are not dancing the lady of the
house will probably recruit you to take in some chaperon. How-
ever little you may relish this, you must not show your disgust. In
fact, no man ought to be disgusted at being able to do anything for
a lady ; it should be his highest privilege, but it is not — in these
modem unchivalrous days — perhaps never was so. Having placed
your partner then at the supper-table, if there is room there, but if
not at a side-table, or even at none, you must be as active as Puck
in attending to her wants, and as women take as long to settle their
fancies in edibles as in love-matters, you had better at once get her
something substantial, chicken, pdte-de-foie gras, mayonnaise, or
what you will. Afterwards come jelly and trifle in due course.

A young lady often goes down half-a-dozen times to the supper-
room — it is to be hoped not for the purpose of eating — but she should
not do so with the same partner more than once. While the lady is
supping you must stand by and talk to her, attending to every want,
and the most you may take yourself is a glass of champagne when
you help her. You then lead her upstairs again, and if you are not
wanted there any more, you may steal down and do a little quiet re-
freshment on your own account. As long, however, as there are
many ladies still at the table, you have no right to begin. Nothing
marks a man here so much as gorging at supper. Balls are meant

802 BALLS.

for dancing, not eating, and unfortunately too many young men for-
get this in the present day. Lastly, be careful what you say and
how you dance after supper, even more so than before it, for if you
in the slightest way displease a young lady, she may fancy that you
have been too partial to strong fluids, and ladies never forgive that.
It would be hard on the lady of the house if everybody leaving a
large ball thought it necessary to wish her good-night. In quitting
a small dance, however, a parting bow is expected. It is then that
the pretty daughter of the house gives you that sweet smile of which
you dream afterwards in a gooseberry nightmare of ' ' tum-tum-
tiddy-tum," and waltzes d deux temps, and masses of tarlatane and
bright eyes, flushed cheeks and dewy glances. See them to-mor-
row, my dear fellow, it will cure you.

I think flirtation comes under the head of morals more than of
mariners ; still I may be allowed to say that ball-room flirtation being
more open is less dangerous than any other. But- a young lady of
taste will be careful not to flaunt and publish her flirtation,, as if to
say, " See, I have an admirer ! " In the same way a prudent man
will never presume on a girl's liveliness or banter. No man of taste
ever made an offer after supper, and certainly nine-tenths of those
who have done so have regretted it at breakfast the next morning.

Public balls are not much frequented by people of good society, ex-
cept in watering-places and country towns. Even there a young lady
should not be seen at more than two or three in the year. County-
balls, race-balls, and hunt-balls, are generally better than common
subscription balls. Charity-balls are an abominable anomaly. At
public balls there are generally either three or four stewards on duty,
or a professional master of ceremonies. These gentlemen having
made all the arrangements, order the dances, and have power to
change them if desirable. They also undertake to present young
men to ladies, but it must be understood that such an introduction is
only available for one dance. It is better taste to ask the steward to
mtroduce you simply to a partner, than to point out any lady in

PARTIES. 303

particular. He will probably then ask you if you have a choice, and
if not, you may be certain he will take you to an established wall-
flower. Public balls are scarcely enjoyable unless you have your
own party.

As the great charm of a ball is its perfect accord and harmony, all
altercations, loud talking, &c, are doubly ill-mannered in a ball-room.
Very little suffices to disturb the peace of the whole company.

CHAPTER XIV.

MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

People will make a party for anything. ' ; Make a party to see the
sun set ; " " make a party to take a walk ; " " make a party to hear
the nightingale ; " •' make a party to go to church ; " u make a party
to go nowhere near church, but to Hampstead Heath instead ; "
*■ make a party to ride a donkey ; " " make a party to play at a new
game ; " u make a party to do nothing at all." There are people —
very good people they think themselves too — who cannot even read
their bibles without a party, and the very people who rail at balls and
parties, and amusement of any kind, will most i^ostentatiously make
a party to see them give away a hundred cups of tea or fifty pina-
fores, which act then goes in the world by the name of u charity."
I don't think the Pharisees were quite so bad as this, because if they
did do their good deeds in public, they did not make a party to
come and see them, unless indeed the sounding of a trumpet was the
Hebrew way of sending out invitations.

However, this is not my present business. The system of gather-
ing a little assembly to join in every pleasure, as long as it is free
from ostentation and cant, only shows what sociable and sympathetic
beings we are. For the real objects of these parties are not, believe

304 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

me, the sunset, the walk, the nightingale's service, the donkey, the
new game, and the dispensing of pinafores, but the entertainment of
one another's society, so that all parties having the same ultimate
aim may be governed by the same laws. I have made an exception
for dinner and dances, because with many people the food and the
waltz are the sole object. But in most other cases the excuse given
for the gathering is precisely the kind of thing which could be enjoyed
much more in solitude, or, at most, with one sympathetic companion.
Take a picnic as an instance. We go miles, at a considerable out-
lay may be, only to enjoy some beautiful view, or to wander in some
ancient ruin. Does the small gossip of the picnic aid us in the en-
joyment of the former, or its noisy prattle hallow rather than dis-
turb the memories of the past that haunt the latter ?

So then the main difference in all kinds of parties lies in the
selection of the guests, the dress they wear, and the peculiar tone
of the conversation. Another great distinction lies, too, between
town and country parties. Let us then divide parties under these
two general heads.

Town-parties consist in conversaziones, private concerts, private
theatricals, tea-parties, and matinees.

The first, which also go by the names of Receptions, and "^.t
Homes," have for principal object conversation only, so that in the
selection of guests youth and beauty are less considered than talent,
distinction, and fashion. An Indian prince, a great nobleman, a
distinguished foreigner, or a celebrated statesman, are considered
valuable attractions, but it must be a consolation to the lion-huntress
to feel that if the presence of these curiosities increases the reputa-
tion of her assemblies, they do by no means add to, but rather
diminish the general ease of the conversation. On the other hand,
to assemble as many persons distinguished for talents or achieve-
ments as possible, must necessarily give them brilliance ; and, as I
have said, the great behave better in the presence of rivals and com-
peers than where they are chief planets. The invitations should be

music. 305

sent out from a week to a fortnight beforehand. Tea must be
served in a separate room, to which the guests are first conducted,
and ices handed at short intervals throughout the evening. Some-
times in smaller receptions a supper is served, but this is by no
means common, as from these meetings the ladies generally repair
to a ball. The hour for meeting is between nine and ten, and the
party breaks up before one in the morning. The lady and gentle-
man of the house both receive the guests, somewhere near the door
of the principal room ; or if the reception is a small one, the lady
joins in the conversation, and comes forward when a guest is
announced. Two or three rooms must be thrown open, curiosities,
good engravings, handsome books, rare miniatures, old china, photo-
graphs, stereoscopes, and so forth, laid out gracefully on the tables,
and a liberal supply of ottomans, dos & dos, and sofas placed about
in convenient positions, not, however, so as to impede a general
movement about the rooms. In the larger receptions gentlemen
should not sit down, and, above all, not linger close to the door, but
come forward and talk sense — not ball-room chit-chat — to such peo-
ple as they happen to know. Introductions are not here the order
of the day, as they must be in balls, but the lady of the house will
take care to introduce gentlemen to such ladies as seem to have none
to talk to. On the other hand, strangers who enter your set for the
first time must receive the greatest attention — the greater the
stranger the greater the guest — and must be introduced to the
principal people. The lady must take care to create circulation,
and the guests themselves should not be pinioned to one spot or one
chair.

The place occupied by music in these parties is a very ridiculous
one, because it is got up only to make a noise, and prevent people
beinof frightened, like Robinson Crusoe, at the sound of their own
voices. Sometimes a professional musician or two is introduced ;
sometimes young ladies are called upon to murder Italian or mouth
out German ; sometimes — not very often — there is some charming
20

306 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

amateur singing, but unless the professionals are very great favorites,
or the young ladies have very fine voices, or the guests — rarer stili —
can appreciate good melodious speaking music, the touch of the first
notes is the signal for every one to find their ideas and their tongues.
So far it must be confessed that the music inspires them, and the
people who were stupidest before, suddenly shine out quite bril-
liantly ; but it is curious that while the first two chords can effect
this, the remainder, good or bad, is drowned and talked down in
the most ungrateful manner. Nothing can be worse bred than this ;
and, therefore, in really good society, you will find that people know
when to use their tongues and when their ears. As to the etiquette
of music, it is the sole privilege of the lady of the house to ask a
guest to sing or play ; and when he or she can do so they will, if well
bred, at once consent, without any palaver. A young lady must be
led — poor victim— to the piano by some gentleman near at hand, who
then offers to fetch her music for her ; and there is one hint which
I will venture to give to young ladies when they have got their
music, and have quickly chosen their song or piece ; never wait till
the company is silent, do not go on playing introductory bars, and
looking round as if you expected them to stop talking, for, on the
one hand, you will seldom succeed in making them do so ; on the
other, those who notice you will think you are vain of your talents.
Make up your mind that you are to sing only for the sake of the
conversation, and be consoled that those who can appreciate your
singing will draw near and listen. The gentleman who has con-
ducted you to the piano now stays to turn over your pages for you ;
take care that he is able to follow you, or give him a sign at the
proper moment, otherwise he will be turning too soon, and bring
you both into terrible confusion. The best way of giving receptions,
which cost very little, is to fix on some day of the week, and repeat
them every time it comes round. You then issue invitations to a
very much larger number than your rooms will hold and for the
whole course of receptions, so that your friends can choose the

TEA-PARTIES. 807

weeks most convenient to them. If at the first party you should
only have a dozen guests, do not be disheartened. If your rooms
are well lit up and well arranged, and yourself agreeable, they will
be filled to excess before the middle of the season.

Private concerts and amateur theatricals ougKt to be very good to
be successful. Prof essionals alone should be engaged for the former,
none but real amateurs for the latter. Both ought to be, but rarely
are, followed by a supper, since they are generally very fatiguing, if
not positively trying. In any case, refreshments and ices should be
handed between the songs and the acts. Private concerts are often
given in the " morning," that is, from two to six P.M. ; in the evening
their hours are from eight to eleven. The rooms should be arranged
in the same manner as for a reception; the guests should be seated,
and as music is the avowed object, a general silence preserved while it
lasts. Between the songs the conversation ebbs back again, and the
party takes the general form of a reception. For private theatricals,
however, where there is no special theatre, and where the curtain is
hung, as is most common, between the folding-doors, the audience-
room must be filled with chairs and benches in rows, and, if possible,
the back rows raised higher than the others. These are often re-
moved when the performance is over, and the guests then converse,
or sometimes even dance. During the acting it is rude to talk, ex-
cept in a very low tone, and be it good or bad, you would never think
of hissing.

The tea-party is a much more sociable affair, and may vary in the
number of guests from ten to thirty. The lighting is by ordinary
lamps and candles; two rooms suffice, and tea should be either
handed or set out on a side-table in one of them. The guests
should be chiefly of one set, and known to one another ; but if they
are not so, they must be generally introduced. The ladies all sit
down, and so may the gentlemen if they like, which they are, poor
things, almost forbidden to do at receptions. The entertainment
consists mostly of music and singing, by ladies and gentlemen pres-

308 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

ent ; but sometimes a few round games are got up for the torture of
old bachelors like myself. If the singing is good, a tea-fight may-
be a pleasant thing, especially for curates and old maids ; but in
London it does not come under the head of "gayeties," and there-
fore the invitations to it must be given only a day or two before,
either by word of mouth or a friendly note.

The matinee requires three things to make it successful, good
grounds, a good band, and good weather. Money can command the
first two, but, as we have no check over the clerk of the weather,
matinees are as well left alone in towns, where people will dress ex-
orbitantly for everything of this kind. However, if well arranged,
and under propitious skies, a matinee is a very good thing for Urba-
nus, who loves sunshine, flowers, and gay toilets. The company
should be very numerous, comprising all the best-dressed people
you know, for dress is everything on these occasions. In addition
to a good brass-band, you would do well to obtain the services of a
glee club to sing in the open air between the instrumental pieces ;
but then a matinee becomes a very expensive entertainment, and so,
in fact, it must be. You invite your guests for one o'clock, they ar-
rive at two, and disperse in time to dress for dinner. They content
themselves with walking about, listening to the music, and taking
refreshments, or if you give it them, a lunch, in the large mar-
quee, which, of course, you have had erected on the lawn. You
have no trouble with your guests, and never dream of introducing
them ; you bring them together under propitious circumstances, and
they must amuse themselves. In matinees abroad they often dance.
They are there very fashionable and much liked. In these open-air
parties, in large towns and their neighborhood, people who do not
know one another remain in that condition ; they are rarely, if ever,
introduced, and they never dream of speaking to one another with-
out an introduction. Very different, and much more sensible, is the
foreign custom.

For these town-parties, there are one or two general rules : The

COUNTRY-PARTIES. 809

hostess should not be too empresse nor bustling" in her welcome ; she
should receive every one alike with amiable dignity, and above all,
if she expects a lion or a grandee, should dismiss him from her
thoughts till he comes, and then make no difference in his reception
to that of the other guests. If she does make a distinction, the
latter will smile cynically at her toadyism, and contrast their own re-
ception with that of the "favored guest." To make up for this
restraint on her enthusiasm, she is not obliged to know much about
the domestic affairs of her guests. In good company of this kind,
the babies and nursery-maids, the son at the Cape, and the daughter
in India, are forgotten for the time, or reserved for the smaller tea-
party. In the conversazioni and receptions, you will hear none but
public subjects, — every one's property— brought on the tapis. This
knot you take for statesmen, for as you pass, each one of them is
prophesying, with a shrewd look, what next step the Emperor will
take. No, sir, they are simply fathers of families. Here you are
certain you have lighted on a batch of critics, male and female ;
could ever any one else show such venom in the discussion of the
last celebrated book ? Nothing of the kind ; critics are doves in
company, and these are only educated men, with as little actual con-
nection with literature as a sailor on the mizzen-yard. Then these
men who are scientifically discussing some recent discovery, and
hanging profoundly over the fate of some engineering enterprise,
are merely thinkers, by no means professional ; while those who
talk of Lord John as an intimate chum, and Pam. as a man they
could clap on the shoulder, are not M. P. 's, but only club-loungers.
Even the gossip takes a public character, and the scandal is about
people known to the whole world of fashion. Then, again, the
manner of the guests is calm and easy ; there is no necessity to create
mirth, the laughter is quiet, even the wit is received with a smile,
and discussions are carried on with interest but not with excitement.
All the company, too, is for the time on an equality, and it is bad
taste to recognize a man's rank in a marked manner. Precedence is

310 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

best laid aside, and the curate may, if he likes, pass out of the
room before the bishop. In short, the reception is a kind of even-
ing" lounge.

Very different is the character of country-parties. If they are
more sociable and friendly, because almost everybody is known to
one another, if there is less formality and display about them, there
is also less equality. If it is not necessary to light your rooms
brilliantly, and secure the services of professional singers, in short,
to supply some particular attraction, it is incumbent to bow to the
local position held by each guest. Not indeed that this is good style,
but that it is expected by people who very often have little more
than their position to recommend them. The deputy-lieutenant may
be a much duller man than the small squire, but in his own county
he would take it very ill if you did not show him more attention
than to the other. The vicar may, and often is far less agreeable
than the curate, but the latter would never dream of making a
move to go before the stately incumbent had risen. Then, too, the
conversation always verges on local and rural topics. The two
squires talk of crops, game, boundaries, and magisterial questions,
and find them far more interesting than the fate of Europe. Then-
wives discuss the flower-show, the hunt-ball, the return of some
family to the neighborhood. The young people get a step farther in
year-long flirtations, and discuss with more or less acerbity the en-
gagements of their mutual friends. In short, people, rather than
things, are the themes of interest, and a stranger in a country party
finds himself almost a foreigner in the land. And woe to him if he
does not know by what title your nearest pack of hounds is called,
or is ignorant of the noble sport of hunting, for, heavy-headed after
their huge dinners, he will find most of the gentlemen unable to
exert their brains farther than to recall u that splendid run," or
speculate on whether the next ' ' master " will be a light or a heavy
weight.

However, in country-parties, the strangers in the land receive as

TENDER GROUND. 311

a rule the greatest attention, and if you, coming from town, find the
company heavy, and the conversation narrow, you will at least have
the consolation of infusing new spirit into, and quickening the
movement of clogged brains.

Country-parties consist chiefly of small dances which are not
balls ; tea-parties ; private fetes, which are much the same as the
matinees already described ; and picnics. Sociability and easy
mirth is the main feature in all of them. As you are among people
whom you know for the most part, you may be more famihar in your
general manners, and to be agreeable, you are expected to be merry,
humorous, and ready for anything that may be proposed. On the
other hand, as prejudices are always greater in proportion to the
narrowness of the mind, and are sometimes especially deep-rooted in
the squires and clergymen whom you meet in these gatherings, you
must be very careful how you approach the topics which most in-
terest them. I have known a whole party, at one moment full of
merriment and laughter, suddenly cast into the deepest gloom of
horror and dismay, by the innocent allusion of a stranger to " M.
B." waistcoats, the rector who was present being high-church. On
the same principle it is wise to avoid speaking much of the church
itself, the schools, the dispensary, the preserves, the poor, and so
forth of the village, as country people are somewhat given to mak-
ing these subjects matters for serious difference, and it is a rare case
for the squire and the clergyman to be perfectly agreed on all points
where their supposed rights can possibly clash. I have known a
village divided into a deadly feud for ten years by nothing but the
pews in the church — one party wishing to keep them, and another
to pull them down ; and, though these religious -minded people met
perhaps once a month at various tea-parties and dinners, the church
was never spoken of, and a stranger who might have unconsciously
mentioned the pews therein, would have thrown in a firebrand which
would have lit up the whole parish.

On entering a country party, you at once seek out the lady of the

312 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

house, and shake . hands with. her. The same process is then per-
formed with those members of the family whom you know, and any
other of your acquaintance present. In taking leave the same pro-
cess is repeated, and a simple bow would generally be considered as
an impoliteness. The invitations to these parties partake of the
same sociable character, and are made by friendly notes sent a few
days beforehand, or even on the very day itself. You have not the
same liberty of declining them as in town, nor can you have recourse
to the polite formula of a " previous engagement," since every-
body knows what is going on in the neighborhood, and who is to be
at any party. You must therefore find a good excuse or go. For
my part, I think we should be better Christians, and just as friendly
if we stated our real reasons : u I regret that I have not the time to
spare," u I do not feel inclined for society," or, "I have no dress for
the occasion." Such replies might create a little surprise, but people
must admire their candor, and everybody could sympathize with the
writer's feelings. At any rate, you must avoid a sneer such as that
given by a too candid lady to a clergyman's wife who had invited
her to a quiet little discussion of muffins on Shrove Tuesday. " I
regret," she wrote, "that I shall be unable to accept your invitation,
as the near approach of Lent would preclude my joining in any fes-
tivities."

Country hours, again, are much earlier than those in town. Ex-
cept at great houses, where the dinner hour is seven, eight o'clock
is the usual time for a tea-party to begin, and before twelve the last
guest departs. It is necessary to be punctual in the country, what-
ever you may be in town ; and it would be considered as an unwar-
rantable assumption of fashion to arrive an hour after the time
stated in the invitation.

Tea is handed in the drawing-room, or if the party be a small
one, so arranged that all may sit round. In the latter case the tea-
table must be plenteously spread with cakes, fruit, etc. , etc. Appe-
tites flourish in the free air of hills and meadows, and as a rule coun-

IN THE COUNTRY. 313

try parties have more of the feeding system about them than those
of town. Thus, unless dinner has been at a late hour, it is usual
to have a supper laid out, or at least sandwiches, jellies, and trifle at
a side-table. This, I must say, is a more agreeable feature of coun-
try entertainments than that of round games. At these, however,
you must not look bored ; you must really for the time believe your-
self a child again, allow yourself to be amused, and enter heart and
soul into it. Endeavor by every means in your power to add to the
general hilarity ; talk without restraint, enter into innocent rivalry
with the young ladies ; or, if one of them yourself, challenge the
most youthful, especially the shy, of the other sex. You must find
something to laugh at in the merest trifle, but never roar or shriek.
Never claim your winnings, but if they are offered you must take
them, except from a young lady, and from her on no consideration.
While we are melting here under the dog- star, and crushing up
crowded staircases, and into ovens of rooms in the tightest dress
that is worn, our country cousins are really enjoying themselves.
They are now having tea out on the lawn, with bona fide cream to it
too, none of our miserable delusions of calves' brains (beautiful sat-
ire on those who credulously swallow them) or chalk and water.
Then when tea is done, they are positively going to dance here on
the lawn, or there in that large empty out-house, resolved that
nothing shall induce them to go into that house again till night ;
and if they do not dance, they bring out every chair that is in it,
and sitting round, play at hunt-the-ring, post, turning the trencher,
or blind man's buff. What dear children they are ! how pleasant to
see the old gentlemen dragged in by the young girls, and made to
play nolentes wienies ! how charming the laughter of these merry
maidens, and the playful flirtation of the sturdy youths, who all day
long have been carrying a gun or breaking a new horse in ! Well,
well, if there is beauty enough to make us bless the excitement
which brings the color to some lovely cheek, — if the young men can
really help looking bored, and the old ones sham delight (as we old

314 MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

ones can, let me tell you, sir), why, then, these out-door gayeties
may be fresh and reviving- and cheering to us dusty, withered,
smoke-dried townsmen. But then where is conversation ? Swamped
in badinage which, if I am not a young lover, I cannot possibly
pump up. And where is that flow of thought and diversity of im-
agination which makes one hour with a clever man or a fenime d? es-
prit worth twenty-four in the presence of a mere beauty and animal
spirits ? Not there.

So, then, they are matters of taste, these little parties, but not so
the etiquette they require. You must be gay, you must laugh and
chuckle and all that, but you must not overdo it ; you must not let
your merriment carry you away. In out-door games especially,
you must be careful not to romp, not to rush and tear about, nor be
boisterously merry. It may be difficult to steer between the Scylla
of dulness and the Charybdis of romping, but you must always
remember what dear fragile things the ladies are, and treat them
tenderly. These games are, in fact, a severe test of politeness,
grace, and delicacy, and if I wanted to discover your title to the name
of gentleman or lady, I should set you to play at post or hunt-the-
ring or what not of child's sport.

Lastly, as to picnics, they are no longer the cheery gatherings of
other days, when each person brought his quantum, and when on
opening the baskets there were found to be three pigeon-pies but no
bread, four contributions of mustard but no salt, dozens of wine
but no beer, and so on. The only thing you are asked to bring in
the present day is your very best spirits ; and everybody is expected
to contribute these, for you cannot have too much of them. A
castle, a church, or something to see, about which to create an inter-
est, is necessary to a successful picnic, much more so than cham-
pagne, which it is perhaps safer not to have, though it is always
expected. Servants ought, if possible, to be dispensed with, and a
free flow of the easiest merriment, not free in itself, it will be under-
stood, should be allowed and encouraged.

picnics. 315

The collation, cold of course, is generally the first object after
arriving at the rendezvous. It is of necessity somewhat rough, for
these same picnics are the happy occasions when people try to for-
get that they are highly civilized, but are scarcely ever allowed to
do so. However, nothing is more justly ridiculous than that people
who come out to play the rustic should be accompanied by a bevy of
' Mercuries, and that while we attempt to imitate the simplicity of
rural dryad life, spreading our viands beneath the shady trees, we
should have some half-dozen stately acolytes of fashion moving
about us with all the solemnity of a London dinner-party. The ser-
vants then should be driven away a force cC amies, and the gentlemen
take their place. Then see how immensely it increases the general
hilarity to watch Fitzboots of the Mutineers sent about by the
pretty misses, made of use for the first time in his life, and with
his hands so full that he cannot even stroke out his splendid
whiskers.

Certainly the barriers of society ought to be broken down on these
occasions. Everybody should be perfectly at his ease, and if the
people are really well-bred, the liberty thus given will not be the least
abused. A man who drinks too much champagne, or a young lady
who strolls away for a couple of hours with a young man among the
ruins or in the wood, should scarcely be asked to join a second pic-
nic. Then, too, free as they are, gay, laughing, and careless, they
should not descend to noisy romping. There ought to be a fair
sprinkling of chaperons and elderly people, not to damp the gayety
but to restrain the carelessness of the younger ones. After all, let
youth be youth, and let it have its fling. If it be really innocent
and well brought up, Miss Etiquette, prim old maid, will have noth-
ing to say ; if otherwise, then she may preach in vain at a carnival.
If our spirits are good (and I feel quite young again in talking of
these things) let us enjoy them to the fullest, and be as silly and as
wild as the youngest. Never shoot a skylark while soaring ; never
curb young mirth in its proper enjoyment.

316 MARRIAGE.

CHAPTER XV.
MARRIAGE.

At a time when our feelings are or ought to be most susceptible,
when the happiness or misery of a condition in which there is no
medium begins, we are surrounded with forms and etiquettes which
rise before the unwary like spectres, and which even the most rigid
ceremonialists regard with a sort of dread.

First, there is the offer to be made.

As a matter of custom, the young lady answers that the will of her
parents is hers ; she consents to take a survey of him to whom her
destiny is to be entrusted ; and let us presume that he is accepted,
though it does not follow, and sometimes it takes several months to
look out for other matters, a house, or a place. However, she con-
sents.

Upon every account, however, it is desirable for a young lady to
have a settlement on her ; and she should not, from a weak spirit of
romance, oppose her friends who advise it, since it is for her hus-
band's advantage as well as her own. By making a settlement there
is always a fund which cannot be touched — a something, however
small, as a provision for a wife and children ; and whether she have
fortune or not, this ought to be made.

Every preliminary being settled, there remains nothing except to
fix the marriage day, a point always left to the lady to advance ;
and next to settle how the ceremonial is to be performed is the sub-
ject of consideration.

It is to be lamented that previously to so solemn a ceremony, the
thoughts of the lady concerned must necessarily be engaged for some
time upon her trousseau. The trousseau consists, in this country, of all
the habiliments necessary for a lady's use for the first two or three
years of her married life ; like every other outfit there are always a
number of articles introduced into it that are next to useless, and are

PRELIMINARIES. 317

only calculated for the vain-glory of the ostentatious. A trousseau
may, in quiet life, be formed upon so low a sum as £60 or £70 ; it
seldom costs, however, less than £100, and often mounts up to £500.
By which useless extravagance a mass of things that soon cease to
be fashionable, or that wear out from being laid by, is accumulated.

The bridesmaids are from two to eight in number. It is ridicu-
lous to have many, as the real intention of the bridesmaid is, that
she should act as a witness of the marriage. It is, however, thought
a compliment to include the bride's sisters and those of the bride-
groom's relations and intimate friends, in case sisters do not exist.

When a bride is young the bridesmaids should be young, but it is
absurd to see a " single woman of a certain age," or a widow, sur-
rounded by blooming girls, making her look plain and foolish.

Early in the day, before eleven, the bride should be dressed, tak-
ing breakfast in her own room. In England we load a bride with lace
flounces on a rich silk, and even sometimes with ornaments. In
France it is always remembered with better taste, that when a young
lady goes up to the altar, she is i ' encore jeune fille y" her dress,
therefore, is exquisitely simple ; a dress of tulle over white silk, a
long white veil of white tulle, going down to the very feet, a wreath
of maiden-blush-roses interspersed with orange flowers. This is
the usual costume of a French bride of rank, or in the middle classes
equally. In England, however, one must conform to the established
custom, although it is much to be wished that in the classes who can
set the example the French usage should be adopted. A lace dress
over silk is generally worn in England. The lace should be of the
finest quality. Brussels or Honiton is the most delicate and becom-
ing ; the veil should be of the same sort of lace as the dress. A
wreath of roses and orange flowers is worn round the head, not con-
fining the veil. The silk ought to be plain ; glace, not moire, if the
bride be young, as the latter is too heavy ; if she is no longer young,
nothing is so becoming as moire silk, either white or silver gray.
Widows and ladies not young are usually married in bonnets, which

3.18 MARRIAGE.

should be of the most elegant description, trimmed with flowers or
feathers, according to the taste of the wearer.

The gentleman's dress should differ little from his full morning
costume. The days are gone by when gentlemen were married — as
a recently deceased friend of mine was — in white satin breeches and
waistcoat.

As soon as the carriages are at the door, those bridesmaids, who
happen to be in the house, and the other members of the family set
off first. The bride goes last, with her father and mother, or with
her mother alone, and the brother or relative who is to represent her
father in case of death or absence. The bridegroom, his friend, or
bridegroom's man, and the bridesmaids ought to be waiting in the
church. The father of the bride gives her his arm, and leads her
to the altar. Here her bridesmaids stand near her, as arranged by
the clerk, and the bridegroom takes his appointed place.

The bride stands to the left of the bridegroom, and takes the
glove off her right hand, while he takes his glove off his right hand.
The bride gives her glove to the bridesmaid to hold, and sometimes
to keep, as a good omen.

The service then begins. During the recital, it is certainly a mat-
ter of feeling how the parties concerned should behave ; but if tears
can be restrained, and a quiet modesty in the lady displayed, and
her emotions subdued, it adds much to the gratification of others,
and saves a few pangs to the parents from whom she is to part.

It should be remembered that this is but the closing scene of a
drama of some duration — first the offer, then the consent and en-
gagement. In most cases the marriage has been preceded by acts
which have stamped the whole with certainty, although we do not
adopt the contract system of our forefathers, and although no event
in this life can be certain.

The register is then signed. The bride quits the church first, with
the bridegroom, and gets into his carriage, and the father and mother,
brides3naids, and bridegroom's man, follow in order in their own.

AFTER THE EVENT. 319

The breakfast is arranged on one or more tables, and is generally
provided by a confectioner when expense is not an object.

Flowers skilfully arranged in fine Bohemian glass, or in epergnes
composed of silver, with glass-dish esf are very ornamental on each
side of the wedding-cake, which stands in the centre. When the
breakfast is sent from a confectioner's, or is arranged in the house
by a professed cook, the wedding-cake is richly ornamented with
flowers, in sugar, and a knot of orange-flowers at the top. At each
end of the table are tea and coffee. Soup is sometimes handed.
Generally the viands are cold, consisting of poultry or game, lobster-
salads, chicken or fish a la Mayornaisses, hams, tongues, potted-
meats, prawns, and game-pies ; raisins, savory jellies, sweets of
every description — all cold. Ice is afterwards handed, and, before
the healths are drunk, the wedding-cake is cut by the nearest gen-
tleman and handed round.

The father then proposes the health of the bride and bridegroom.
The latter is expected to answer, and to propose the bridegroom's
man. The bridegroom's man returns thanks, and pledges the brides-
maids, who answer through the bridegroom. All other toasts are
optional, but it is de rigueur that the health of the clergyman or
clergymen who tied the knot, if present, should be drunk.

After these ceremonials have been duly performed, and ample jus-
tice has been done to the breakfast, the bride retires, and the com-
pany usually take leave of her in the drawing-room and depart.

The good sense of several personages in the higher ranks has broken
through the customary appearance of the bride at the breakfast, or
indeed if she breakfast at all. In France, the friends assembled to
witness a wedding do not follow the bride home. A ball or soiree
generally follows in the evening. Most people, one would suppose,
would be gladly released from the unnatural repast at an unusual
hour ; the headache that makes the rest of the day miserable ; the
hurry of the morning ; the lassitude of the afternoon ; the tearful,
stumbling speeches of '• dear papa " after champagne ; the modest,

320 MAKRIAGE.

shy, broken sentences of the victimized bridegroom ; the extremely
critical situation of his bachelor friend i expected to be in love with all
the bridesmaids ; the sighs of the mother, and prognostics of maiden
aunts ; the heat, the disgust to those articles which look so well by
candlelight, but do not bear daylight — creams, whips, jellies, and all
that tribe of poisons ; and, worst of all, the vast expense to those
who pay, and slight degree of pleasure to those who do not — these
are among the miseries of the wedding-breakfast.

Then the peculiar situation of the bride, tricked out with finery
like the bceuf-gras on Shrove -Tuesday, every one staring at her to
see how she looks ; her sensitive nature all excited by the past sol-
emnity ; her inmost feelings crushed or raked up, as may be, by
congratulations. To subject a lady to such torture seems an act of
cruelty in cold blood. Suppose her joy is too great for utterance,
that there has been opposition in delay, why stick her up on a ped-
estal, so thab all may read the emotions of that throbbing heart be-
neath its encasement of Brussels lace ? Suppose that heart does
not go along with the joy, and the compliments and the hopes of
ever-constant felicity ; c ' let the stricken deer go weep ; " do not
parade what now had better be forgotten. To some heart in that
over-dressed assembly of smiling friends there will be a touch, in
whatever is said, to give pain ; on occasions also where the feelings
form the actual theme, the less said the better.

The bride has, however, retired, and we will follow. Her travel-
ling-dress is now to be assumed. This should be goad in quality,
but plain, like a handsome dress for morning calls. An elegant bon-
net, not too plain, a handsome shawl or mantle, and colored gloves
form the suitable costume, of which it is impossible to define the
component parts, but we merely recommend that the colors of the
dress, and shawl, and bonnet should as nearly as possible assimi-
late ; that the style should be of the very best, so that the impres-
sion left may be suitable, agreeable, and elegant.

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