Manners and Social Usages, Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood [always you kirsty moseley .txt] 📗

her many-titled husband

anything but “Mr. Grant,” which had, in her case, a sweetness

above all etiquette.

 

Introductions in the homely German fatherland are universal,

everybody pronouncing to everybody else the name of the lady to

whom he is talking; and among our German fellow-citizens we often

see a gentleman convoying a lady through a crowded assemblage,

introducing her to everybody. It is a simple, cordial, and

pleasant thing enough, as with them the acquaintance stops there;

and a bow and smile hurt nobody.

 

No one of heart or mind need feel afraid to talk and be agreeable,

whether introduced or not, at a friend’s house; even if she meets

with the rebuff of a deaf-and-dumb neighbor, she need not feel

heart-broken: she is right, and her stiff acquaintance is wrong.

 

If a gentleman asks to be presented to a lady, she should signify

her assent in a pleasant way, and pay her hostess, through whom

the request comes, the compliment of at least seeming to be

gratified at the introduction. Our American ladies are sometimes a

little lacking in cordiality of manner, often receiving a new

acquaintance with that part of their conformation which is known

as the “cold shoulder.” A brusque discourtesy is bad, a very

effusive courtesy and a too low bow are worse, and an overwhelming

and patronizing manner is atrocious. The proper salutation lies

just between the two extremes: the_ juste milieu_ is the proper

thing always. In seeking introductions for ourselves, while we

need not be shy of making a first visit or asking for an

introduction, we must still beware of “push.” There are instincts

in the humblest understanding which will tell us where to draw the

line. If a person is socially more prominent than ourselves, or

more distinguished in any way, we should not be violently anxious

to take the first step; we should wait until some happy chance

brought us together, for we must be as firm in our self-respect as

our neighbor is secure in her exalted position. Wealth has

heretofore had very little power to give a person an exclusively

fashionable position. Character, breeding, culture, good

connections—all must help. An aristocrat who is such by virtue of

an old and honored name which has never been tarnished is a power

in the newest society as in the oldest; but it is a shadowy power,

felt rather than described. Education is always a power.

 

To be sure, there is a tyranny in large cities of what is known as

the “fashionable set,” formed of people willing to spend money;

who make a sort of alliance, offensive and defensive; who can give

balls and parties and keep certain people out; who have the place

which many covet; who are too much feared and dreaded. If those

who desire an introduction to this set strive for it too much,

they will be sure to be snubbed; for this circle lives by

snubbing. If such an aspirant will wait patiently, either the

whole autocratic set of ladies will disband—for such sets

disentangle easily—or else they in their turn will come knocking

at the door and ask to be received. L’art de tenir salon is not

acquired in an hour. It takes many years for a new and an

uninstructed set to surmount all the little awkwardnesses, the

dubious points of etiquette, that come up in every new shuffle of

the social cards; but a modest and serene courtesy, a civility

which is not servile, will be a good introduction into any

society.

 

And it is well to have that philosophical spirit which puts the

best possible interpretation upon the conduct of others. Be not in

haste to consider yourself neglected. Self-respect does not easily

receive an insult. A lady who is fully aware of her own

respectability, who has always lived in the best society, is never

afraid to bow or call first, or to introduce the people whom she

may desire should know each other. She perhaps presumes on her

position, but it is very rare that such a person offends; for tact

is almost always the concomitant of social success.

 

There has been a movement lately towards the stately bows and

courtesies of the past in our recent importation of Old-World

fashions. A lady silently courtesies when introduced, a gentleman

makes a deep bow without speaking. We have had the custom of

hand-shaking—and a very good custom it is—but perhaps the latest

fashion in ceremonious introduction forbids it. If a gentleman

carries his crush hat, and a lady her fan and a bouquet,

hand-shaking may not be perfectly convenient. However, if a lady

or gentleman extends a hand, it should be taken cordially. Always

respond to the greeting in the key-note of the giver.

 

CHAPTER V.

VISITING.

 

No term admits of a wider interpretation than this; no subject is

capable of a greater number of subdivisions. The matter of formal

visiting has led to the writing of innumerable books. The decay of

social visiting is a cause of regret to all the old-fashioned

people who remember how agreeable it was; but our cities have

grown too large for it, and in our villages the population changes

too quickly. The constant effort to make the two systems shake

hands, to add cordiality to formality, and to provide for all the

forced conditions of a rapidly growing and constantly changing

society, these are but a few of the difficulties attending this

subject.

 

The original plan of an acquaintance in a formal city circle was

to call once or twice a year on all one’s friends personally, with

the hope and the remote expectation of finding two or three at

home. When society was smaller in New York, this was possible, but

it soon grew to be impossible, as in all large cities. This

finally led to the establishment of a reception day which held

good all winter. That became impossible and tiresome, and was

narrowed down to four Tuesdays, perhaps, in one month; that

resolved itself into one or two five-o’clock teas; and then again,

if a lady got lame or lazy or luxurious, even the last easy method

of receiving her friends became too onerous, and cards were left

or sent in an envelope.

 

Now, according to the strict rules of etiquette, one card a year

left at the door, or one sent in an envelope, continues the

acquaintance. We can never know what sudden pressure of calamity,

what stringent need of economy, what exigencies of work, may

prompt a lady to give up her visiting for a season. Even when

there is no apparent cause, society must ask no questions, but

must acquiesce in the most good-natured view of the subject.

 

Still, there must be uniformity. We are not pleased to receive

Mrs. Brown’s card by post, and then to meet her making a personal

visit to our next neighbor. We all wish to receive our personal

visits, and if a lady cannot call on all her formal acquaintances

once, she had better call on none.

 

If she gives one reception a year and invites all her “list,” she

is then at liberty to refrain from either calling or sending a

card, unless she is asked to a wedding or dinner, a ladies’ lunch

or a christening, or receives some very particular invitation

which she must return by an early personal call—the very formal

and the punctilious say within a week, but that is often

impossible.

 

And if a lady have a day, the call should be made on that day; it

is rude to ignore the intimation. One should try to call on a

reception day. But here in a crowded city another complication

comes in. If a lady have four Thursdays in January and several

other ladies have Thursdays, it may be impossible to reach all

those ladies on their reception day. There is nothing for it,

then, but to good-naturedly apologize, and to regret that calling

hours are now reduced to between four and six in large cities.

 

Some people have too many acquaintances. If they hope to do

anything in the world but drive about and leave cards, they must

exonerate themselves from blame by giving a reception, having a

day or an evening for receiving, and then trust to the good-nature

of society, or its forgetfulness, which is about the same thing,

to excuse them.

 

Happy those ladies who can give up an evening a week to their

friends; that rubs out the score on the social slate, besides

giving a number of people a chance to spend a very agreeable hour

in that society which gathers around a hospitable lamp.

 

The danger of this kind of hospitality is that it is abused by

bores, who are too apt to congregate in numbers, and to wear out

the lady of the house by using her parlor as a spot where they are

safe from the rain and cold and free to bestow their tediousness

on anybody, herself included. Then a lady after committing herself

to a reception evening often wishes to go out herself. It requires

unselfishness to give up an evening to that large circle, some of

whom forget it, some go elsewhere, some come too often, and

sometimes, alas! no on e calls. These are the drawbacks of an

“evening at home.” However, it is a laudable custom; one could

wish it were more common.

 

No one can forget the eloquent thanks of such men as Horace

Walpole, and other persons of distinction, to the Misses Berry, in

London, who kept up their evening receptions for sixty years. But,

from the trials of those who have too much visiting, we turn to

the people who have all the means and appliances of visiting and

no one to visit.

 

The young married woman who comes to New York, or any other large

city, often passes years of loneliness before she has made her

acquaintances. She is properly introduced, we will say by her

mother-in-law or some other friend, and then, after a round of

visits in which she has but, perhaps, imperfectly apprehended the

positions and names of her new acquaintances, she has a long

illness, or she is called into mourning, or the cares of the

nursery surround her, and she is shut out from society until it

has forgotten her; and when she is ready to emerge, it is

difficult for her to find her place again in the visiting-book. If

she is energetic and clever, she surmounts this difficulty by

giving a series of receptions, or engaging in charities, or

working on some committee, making herself of use to society in

some way; and thus picks up her dropped stitches. But some young

women are without the courage and tact to do this thing; they

wait, expecting that society will find them out, and, taking them

up, will do all the work and leave them to accept or refuse

civilities as they please. Society never does this; it has too

much on its hands; a few conspicuously beautiful and gifted people

may occasionally receive such an ovation, but it is not for the

rank and file.

 

Every young woman should try to make at least one personal visit

to those who are older than herself, and she should show charity

towards those who do not return this visit immediately. Of course,

she has a right to be piqued if her visit be persistently ignored;

and she should not press herself upon a cold or indifferent

acquaintance, but she should be slow to wrath; and if she is once

invited to the older lady’s house, it is worth a dozen calls so

far as the intention of civility is concerned.

 

It is proper to call in person, or to leave a card, after an

acquaintance has lost a relative, after an