Etiquette, Emily Post [read people like a book txt] 📗

stains a sofa, the hostess instead of saying "It is nothing at all! Please don't worry about it," ought for the sake of truth to say, "See what your clumsiness has done! You have ruined my sofa!" And when someone says "How are you?" instead of answering "Very well, thank you," the same truthful one should perhaps take an hour by the clock and mention every symptom of indisposition that she can accurately subscribe to.

While "not at home" is merely a phrase of politeness, to say "I am out" after a card has been brought to you is both an untruth and an inexcusable rudeness. Or to have an inquiry answered, "I don't know, but I'll see," and then to have the servant, after taking a card, come back with the message "Mrs. Jones is out" can not fail to make the visitor feel rebuffed. Once a card has been admitted, the visitor must be admitted also, no matter how inconvenient receiving her may be. You may send a message that you are dressing but will be very glad to see her if she can wait ten minutes. The visitor can either wait or say she is pressed for time. But if she does not wait, then she is rather discourteous.

Therefore, it is of the utmost importance always to leave directions at the door such as, "Mrs. Jones is not at home." "Miss Jones will be home at five o'clock," "Mrs. Jones will be home at 5.30," or Mrs. Jones "is at home" in the library to intimate friends, but "not at home" in the drawing-room to acquaintances. It is a nuisance to be obliged to remember either to turn an "in" and "out" card in the hail, or to ring a bell and say, "I am going out," and again, "I have come in." But whatever plan or arrangement you choose, no one at your front door should be left in doubt and then repulsed. It is not only bad manners, it is bad housekeeping.

The Old-Fashioned Day At Home

It is doubtful if the present generation of New Yorkers knows what a day at home is! But their mothers, at least, remember the time when the fashionable districts were divided into regular sections, wherein on a given day in the week, the whole neighborhood was "at home." Friday sounds familiar as the day for Washington Square! And was it Monday for lower Fifth Avenue? At all events, each neighborhood on the day of its own, suggested a local fête. Ladies in visiting dresses with trains and bonnets and nose-veils and tight gloves, holding card cases, tripped demurely into this house, out of that, and again into another; and there were always many broughams and victorias slowly "exercising" up and down, and very smart footmen standing with maroon or tan or fur rugs over their arms in front of Mrs. Wellborn's house or Mrs. Oldname's, or the big house of Mrs. Toplofty at the corner of Fifth Avenue. It must have been enchanting to be a grown person in those days! Enchanting also were the C-spring victorias, as was life in general that was taken at a slow carriage pace and not at the motor speed of to-day. The "day at home" is still in fashion in Washington, and it is ardently to be hoped that it also flourishes in many cities and towns throughout the country or that it will be revived, for it is a delightful custom—though more in keeping with Europe than America, which does not care for gentle paces once it has tasted swift. A certain young New York hostess announced that she was going to stay home on Saturday afternoons. But the men went to the country and the women to the opera, and she gave it up.

There are a few old-fashioned ladies, living in old-fashioned houses, and still staying at home in the old-fashioned way to old-fashioned friends who for decades have dropped in for a cup of tea and a chat. And there are two maiden ladies in particular, joint chatelaines of an imposingly beautiful old house where, on a certain afternoon of the week, if you come in for tea, you are sure to meet not alone those prominent in the world of fashion, but a fair admixture of artists, scientists, authors; inventors, distinguished strangers—in a word Best Society in its truest sense. But days at home such as these are not easily duplicated; for few houses possess a "salon" atmosphere, and few hostesses achieve either the social talent or the wide cultivation necessary to attract and interest so varied and brilliant a company.

Modern Card Leaving: A Questionable Act Of Politeness

The modern New York fashion in card-leaving is to dash as fast as possible from house to house, sending the chauffeur up the steps with cards, without ever asking if anyone is home. Some butlers announce "Not at home" from force of habit even when no question is asked. There are occasions when the visitors must ask to see the hostess (see page 88); but cards are left without asking whether a lady is at home under the following circumstances:

Cards are left on the mother of the bride, after a wedding, also on the mother of the groom.

Cards are also left after any formal invitation. Having been asked to lunch or dine with a lady whom you know but slightly you should leave your card whether you accepted the invitation or not, within three days if possible, or at least within a week, of the date for which you were invited. It is not considered necessary (in New York at least) to ask if she is at home; promptness in leaving your card is, in this instance, better manners than delaying your "party call" and asking if she is at home. This matter of asking at the door is one that depends upon the customs of each State and city, but as it is always wiser to err on the side of politeness, it is the better policy, if in doubt, to ask "Is Mrs. Blank at home?" rather than to run the risk of offending a lady who may like to see visitors.

A card is usually left with a first invitation to a stranger who has brought a letter of introduction, but it is more polite—even though not necessary—to ask to be received. Some ladies make it a habit to leave a card on everyone on their visiting list once a season.

It is correct for the mother of a débutante to leave her card as well as her daughter's on every lady who has invited the daughter to her house, and a courteous hostess returns all of these pasteboard visits. But neither visit necessitates closer or even further acquaintance.

Visits Which Everyone Must Pay

Paying visits differs from leaving cards in that you must ask to be received. A visit of condolence should be paid at once to a friend when a death occurs in her immediate family. A lady does not call on a gentleman, but writes him a note of sympathy.

In going to inquire for sick people, you should ask to be received, and it is always thoughtful to take them gifts of books or fruit or flowers.

If a relative announces his engagement, you must at once go to see his fiancée. Should she be out, you do not ask to see her mother. You do, however, leave a card upon both ladies and you ask to see her mother if received by the daughter.

A visit of congratulation is also paid to a new mother and a gift invariably presented to the baby.

Messages Written On Cards

"With sympathy" or "With deepest sympathy" is written on your visiting card with flowers sent to a funeral. This same message is written on a card and left at the door of a house of mourning, if you do not know the family well enough to ask to be received.

"To inquire" is often written on a card left at the house of a sick person, but not if you are received.

In going to see a friend who is visiting a lady whom you do not know, whether you should leave a card on the hostess as well as on your friend depends upon the circumstances: if the hostess is one who is socially prominent and you are unknown, it would be better taste not to leave a card on her, since your card afterward found without explanation might be interpreted as an uncalled-for visit made in an attempt for a place on her list. If, on the other hand, she is the unknown person and you are the prominent one, your card is polite, but unwise unless you mean to include her name on your list. But if she is one with whom you have many interests in common, then you may very properly leave a card for her.

In leaving a card on a lady stopping at a hotel or living in an apartment house, you should write her name in pencil across the top of your card, to insure its being given to her, and not to some one else.

At the house of a lady whom you know well and whom you are sorry not to find at home, it is "friendly" to write "Sorry not to see you!" or "So sorry to miss you!"

Turning down a corner of a visiting card is by many intended to convey that the visit is meant for all the ladies in the family. Other people mean merely to show that the card was left at the door in person and not sent in an envelope. Other people turn them down from force of habit and mean nothing whatever. But whichever the reason, more cards are bent or dog-eared than are left flat.

Engraved Cards Announcing Engagement, Bad Form

Someone somewhere asked whether or not to answer an engraved card announcing an engagement. The answer can have nothing to do with etiquette, since an engraved announcement is unknown to good society. (For the proper announcement of an engagement see page 304.)

When People See Their Friends

Five o'clock is the informal hour when people are "at home" to friends. The correct hour for leaving cards and paying formal visits is between 3.30 and 4.30. One should hesitate to pay a visit at the "tea hour" unless one is sure of one's welcome among the "intimates" likely to be found around the hostess's tea-table.

Many ladies make it their practise to be home if possible at five o'clock, and their friends who know them well come in at that time. (For the afternoon tea-table and its customs, see page 171.)

Informal Visiting Often Arranged By Telephone

For instance, instead of ringing her door-bell, Mrs. Norman calls Mrs. Kindhart on the telephone: "I haven't seen you for weeks! Won't you come in to tea, or to lunch—just you." Mrs. Kindhart answers, "Yes, I'd love to. I can come this afternoon"; and five o'clock finds them together over the tea-table.

In the same way young Struthers calls up Millicent Gilding, "Are you going to be in this afternoon?" She says, "Yes, but not until a quarter of six." He says, "Fine, I'll come then." Or she says, "I'm so sorry, I'm playing bridge with Pauline—but I'll be in to-morrow!" He says, "All right, I'll come to-morrow."

The younger people rarely ever go to see each other without first telephoning. Or since even young people seldom meet except for bridge, most likely it is Millicent Gilding who telephones the Struthers youth to ask if he can't possibly get uptown before five o'clock to make a fourth with Mary and Jim and herself.

How A First Visit Is Made

In very large cities, neighbors seldom call on each other. But if strangers move into a neighborhood in a small town or in the country, or at a watering-place, it is not