Chapter 6 of 10 · 3931 words · ~20 min read

Part 6

Invitations from the younger members of the family are not official, unless plainly endorsed by the elders, or one of them. “Miss Lucy invited me to lunch” is a poor plea. “Frank asked me to come and dine this evening,” is no better. Young men cannot be too particular about this matter. “I’ll get my mother to ask you to dinner, old man,” would be the safer sort of invitation. The lady of the house must fix the date, and she usually writes the invitation herself or gives it personally.

[Sidenote: Unendorsed invitations from a daughter of the house.]

Should a daughter of the house give a young man an invitation to any meal, without reference to her father or mother, it would be incorrect in the highest degree to accept it. As to children, their invitations go for nothing, of course, though cases have been known in which they have been accepted. “I met little Eddy in the park, and he made me come in with him.” This has a very poor and pitiable sound at luncheon hour or teatime.

[Sidenote: Making one’s adieux.]

It is not necessary to make one’s adieux to each guest in turn. The hostess is taken leave of first, as a rule, and the lady, or ladies, with whom one has been conversing will expect a special word and bow, perhaps offering a hand; but a general bow will be sufficient for those to whom one is not very well known. It is only at family parties that one has conscientiously to go round the room shaking hands with everybody.

_FIVE O’CLOCK TEA AND AFTERNOON AT-HOMES._

Gentlemen are in great request at five o’clock tea.

[Sidenote: Duties of men at five o’clock tea.]

Their duties are rather onerous if there are but one or two men and the usual crowd of ladies. They have to carry teacups about, hand sugar, cream, and cakes or muffins, and keep up all the time a stream of small talk, as amusing as they can make it. They must rise every time a lady enters or leaves the room, opening the door for her exit if no one else is nearer to it, and, if his hostess requests him, he must see the lady downstairs to her carriage or cab.

[Sidenote: His own refreshment.]

With regard to the viands, a man helps himself, but not till he has seen that all the ladies in his vicinity have everything they can possibly want. His hostess, or some lady deputed by her to preside at the tea-table, gives him tea or coffee, and he adds sugar and cream.

[Sidenote: Afternoon at-homes.]

With regard to afternoon at-homes, the arrangements are quite different. Invitations are sent out a fortnight or three weeks before, generally the latter, and in the height of the season even longer.

Suppose the young man’s name to be Edward Smith. His invitation would be as follows:--

[Sidenote: Accepting invitation.]

He replies, on a sheet of notepaper:--“Mr. Edward Smith has much pleasure in accepting Lady Dart’s kind invitation for Tuesday afternoon, November 3rd.”

[Sidenote: A great mistake.]

It’s a great mistake to write:--“Will have much pleasure in accepting.” Accepting is the action of the present moment while he is writing the reply. “Will have” refers to the future, and is therefore unsuitable. The answering of invitations is a simple matter enough, but it is a test of good breeding.

_AT THE PLAY._

[Sidenote: The underbred man at the play.]

At a theatre the underbred man is often in evidence, not only in the low-priced seats, but also all over the house. He has been seen--and heard--in private boxes. A well-known music-hall celebrity administered a scathing reproof to one of these, who persisted in talking loudly while she was singing. Stopping short, she looked up at the box in which he sat, and cried: “One fool at a time, please,” after which he was as quiet as a mouse.

[Sidenote: Entering late.]

It is a piece of bad manners to enter the theatre late, disturbing the audience and annoying the players or singers.

[Sidenote: And leaving early.]

It is equally rude to leave before the entertainment is ended, unless the interval be chosen when nothing is going on. At a concert this is

## particularly true, for there are devotees of music who hang upon every

note and to whom it is a distinct loss to miss a single phrase of the compositions they have come to hear.

[Sidenote: Inattention uncivil.]

Singers, actors, and actresses generally possess the sensitive, sympathetic, artistic temperament, and it is wounding to them to see members of the audience fidgeting, rustling about, chattering, laughing, and otherwise showing inattention when they are doing their best to entertain them. It is, therefore, uncivil to betray inattention.

[Sidenote: On appreciation.]

A little appreciation goes a long way with the members of the professions of music and the drama. An actor told me once that after having made a certain speech two or three times without any sign of amusement from the audience, on the fourth night of the play a single silvery note of musical mirth was heard from the stalls. It was but one note--say E flat on the treble clef--but the audience immediately joined in, perceiving the point of the speech as though it had been illuminated for them by this one little laugh. He declared that ever after that night his formerly unsuccessful “lines” elicited a roar of laughter. Probably this was partly due to the sense of encouragement he felt, inspiring him to due emphasis.

[Sidenote: In taking ladies to a place of entertainment.]

In taking ladies to a place of entertainment a gentleman hands them into their carriage, a cab, or an omnibus, getting in last. Arrived at their destination the gentleman alights first, handing out the ladies, and giving any necessary orders to the coachman, or paying the cabman’s fare. By the way, it is always as well to give instructions to the coachman about where he is to

[Sidenote: Instructions to the coachman.]

be found, and at what hour he is to pick up his party, before entering the carriage, as policemen view with much disfavour any prolonged dialogue outside a place of entertainment where vehicles are setting down their occupants in quick succession. Should there be a footman, of course all these difficulties are obviated, as he can carry the instructions to the coachman, and also knows where to find the carriage when the performance is over.

[Sidenote: Should a hired brougham be used.]

Should a hired brougham be used as a conveyance in going to any place of entertainment, or even a party at a private house, it is an excellent plan to give the coachman a bright-coloured handkerchief, scarlet or orange perhaps, that he may wear it conspicuously displayed, and can in this way be at once recognised.

[Sidenote: To obviate waiting.]

It is a miserable business on a wet night to hunt for a brougham up and down ill-lighted streets when in evening dress and patent leather boots, and anything that tends to shorten the task is advisable. Nor do ladies enjoy waiting in the draughty vestibule of opera-house, theatre, or concert-room for an indefinite period while a short-sighted cavalier is groping about the streets for their carriage.

If it is a question of a cab, the commissionaire at the door is the best person to get one, which he will do for a small fee.

[Sidenote: A word of warning.]

Here again a word of warning is needed. There are men who, in their special care of the ladies in their charge, forget that it is no part of the duty of a gentleman to ignore the claims of other women who have not the advantage of belonging to their party.

[Sidenote: Consideration due to all women.]

I have seen men who ought to have known better rudely pushing other ladies away from the door of a cab or railway carriage in order that their own womenkind may be well looked after. It is all very well to be attentive and anxious to do one’s best, but it is ill-bred to the last degree to subject to rudeness any ladies who happen to be without a gentleman to look after them.

[Sidenote: An instance.]

Retribution followed very swiftly in one instance of the kind. At Sandown station one day the second special train for Waterloo was coming in, and the platform was crowded with gaily-dressed women, tired and hot after the walk across the fields on a tropical July day. A lady and small Eton boy were together, and suddenly, when about to open the door of a carriage at the moment the train came to a standstill, found themselves all but thrown down by a sweeping motion of the arm of a young man who was bent on reserving that particular carriage for his party. Without a word of apology to the lady, he shouted to his sisters and friends to “Come on,” still holding back the two who had wished to get in. They entered the next compartment, and as they did so the lady remarked to her companion, “What an extremely ill-mannered person that is!” Meanwhile the party next door were settling down and congratulating themselves on having secured seats, when one of them turned to their over-zealous friend and remarked, “I saw Lady Blank get into the next carriage with her eldest boy.” “_Who?_” he asked, with a sudden and remarkable rush of colour on his face. The lady to whom he had behaved so rudely turned out to be one from whom he had that very morning received a long-desired invitation to spend a few days at her country house in the following month. This he owed to the good offices of a friend in the F. O., and, delighted at having made such a step in his social career, he had at once written off accepting the invitation. It is scarcely necessary to add that he never made the visit, but had to wire at the last moment one of those conventional excuses that the “unco guid” call fibs, but which are only the transparent devices adopted by society to lubricate some of the more difficult of its processes.

Between the acts of a play the modern man thinks it his duty to himself to go out and have a drink, perhaps smoke a cigarette.

[Sidenote: The interval.]

There was a time when, had any such suggestion been made to a gentleman who had constituted himself the escort of a lady, he would have asked, though perhaps not in Milton’s words--

“And leave thy fair side all unguarded, lady?”

But now the majority of young men visit the bar or the _foyer_.

[Sidenote: How a man may win golden opinions.]

But who shall say what golden opinions are won by those who do not follow the custom, who refrain from acquiring the odour of tobacco, or whiskey, or brandy while they are in the company of ladies in the heated atmosphere of a theatre? A lady sometimes says to the men of her party, “I see that there is a general stampede going on. Don’t mind me if you would like to go out.” If they go she thinks, “Oh, they are just like the rest.” If they stay she says to her own heart, “How delightful it is to find a man who can do without a B.-and-S. or a smoke for two or three hours!” and up he goes many pegs in her estimation.

[Sidenote: Other considerations.]

Apart from the lady he is with and considerations connected with her, there is the inconvenience to which many of the audience are subjected by the passing in and out of so many. However, it is a recognised custom, so much so that a smoking _foyer_ is attached to all the best theatres, and a warning bell is rung in it by the management a few minutes before the rising of the curtain.

[Sidenote: When refreshments are brought around.]

Refreshments are frequently carried round by attendants to private boxes, and sometimes in the stalls as well. Should they appear, it is the duty of the gentleman of the party to ask the lady or ladies if they wish for any, and to pay for what is consumed. It is, however, a rare thing for ladies to eat or drink at the play. The gentleman also pays for the programme at the few theatres where a charge is made.

[Sidenote: On unnecessary payment for programmes.]

I may mention, by the way, that it is not considered very good form to pay for programmes at theatres where the management makes no charge. Instances have been known where attendants have been discharged for accepting such fees; and even apart from this, it is tantamount to presenting the attendant with sixpence or a shilling if one insists on paying for a programme or two provided free of charge. Many of the attendants are superior to accepting it.

_AT A BALL._

[Sidenote: The etiquette of the ball-room.]

The etiquette of the ball-room is not difficult to acquire, and yet there are thousands of young men going into society constantly who flagrantly fail in it. Their bad manners are conspicuous. They decline to dance unless the prettiest girls in the room are “trotted out” for them, block the doorways, haunt the refreshment-room, and after supper promptly take their leave. Could any course of conduct be in worse taste? And what can a poor hostess do? Young men are necessary at dances, and they must be invited. If they will not dance, who shall make them?

[Sidenote: “The delight of the hostess’s heart.”]

The delight of the average hostess’s heart is the well-bred man, unspoiled by conceit, who can always be depended on to do his duty. He arrives in good time, fills his card before very long, and can be asked to dance with a plain, neglected wallflower or two without resenting it. He takes his partner duly to the refreshment-room after each dance, if she wishes to go, and provides her with whatever she wishes. Before leaving her, he sees her safe at her chaperon’s side. If he should sit out a dance he returns in time to claim his partner for the next, not leaving her till it is half over, as is the wont of some young men.

[Sidenote: Self-denial the secret of good society.]

The truth is that society demands a never-ending series of self-denying

## actions from those who belong to it, and the more cheerfully these are

performed, the more perfect are the manners. What can be more enjoyable than to sit in some cool retreat with a charming girl, enjoying one of those innocent flirtations that do so much to give zest to life? But delightful though it be, the temptation to prolong it must be resisted, if an expectant partner is missing her dance and waiting in the ball-room to be claimed.

[Sidenote: Non-dancers should not accept invitations.]

It is bad manners to go to a ball unless one is accomplished in the art of dancing. To do so is to take the place of one who may be more expert and therefore in greater request. Consequently, every man who wishes to be a success in society must learn to dance. There are abundant opportunities for doing so at the various dancing “academies,” as they are rather unsuitably entitled, for there is not much about them of the academical, as generally understood.

[Sidenote: The value of private lessons.]

Private lessons are dearer than the others, but they are really necessary for most men who have not been taught to dance when boys. The whole attention of the teacher should be given during the first three or four. A man has so much to learn in addition to the correct movements of his feet. He must be taught to hold his head up, to grasp his partner gently but firmly, not to tread on her toes or knock his knees against hers, and also how to steer his course and hers in an imaginary crowded room.

[Sidenote: The finishing touches.]

Afterwards come the finishing touches, when, perfect in the steps and carriage of the body, the learner is taught to glide gently from foot to foot, regulating his pace as quickly or as slowly as he may wish. At first this seems to be impossible, for the novice is inclined to “rush his fences,” as it were, and he waltzes round the room at breakneck speed, making himself giddy and breathless, and sometimes causing dire catastrophe. A girl finds it difficult to forgive a man who has made her look ridiculous.

[Sidenote: A fall: generally the man’s fault.]

The fall of a couple is not a frequent occurrence in a ball-room, but when it does happen it is almost always the man’s fault. Girls take much more naturally to the graceful movements of the dance, and are, besides, more often taught in childhood than their brothers.

[Sidenote: At a private ball.]

At a private ball the guest enters and greets his hostess before speaking to any one else. She shakes hands with him and passes him on to some one to introduce him to partners, perhaps her husband, perhaps her son.

[Sidenote: The card should be filled early.]

With this beginning he will probably get on very well and may half-fill his card, and he should take care to do so at once, for at some balls the nice girls are immediately snapped up and engaged for even the extras before they have been twenty minutes in the room. “Are you engaged for every dance, Miss Grey? Can you spare me one?” And Miss Grey probably gives him one, but if he is a stranger of whose calisthenic prowess nothing is known, she is careful to give him only one. Sometimes his partners, if they discover that he dances well, introduce him to their sisters and friends. If, however, he should find himself left high and dry towards the end of the evening, he should go back to the gentlemen of the house and ask them to introduce him to somebody else. Young men of experience in such matters usually manage very well without this, but the novice has often to face the alternative of dancing no more or asking to be introduced.

[Sidenote: The “supper” dance.]

Hostesses sometimes make special introductions for the “supper” dance, the one immediately preceding that meal. This means that the man introduced, unless engaged to dance it with some one else, is imperatively called upon to accept the partner offered him and take her down to supper.

[Sidenote: Asking a lady to dance.]

In asking a lady to dance it is usual to say, “Will you give me this waltz?” or “May I have this barn-dance?” Some young men say, “Would you like to dance this? Come along then!” but such a form of address is only suited to intimates.

[Sidenote: After the dance.]

When the dance is over, and the partner left with her friends, the man says, “Thank you,” bows, and leaves her.

[Sidenote: Seeing a lady to her carriage.]

If he wishes to see any lady to her carriage, he asks her permission to do so, folds her wraps round her, hands her in, and stands until the carriage has gone some yards away.

_ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE._

The old-fashioned rule that a man must approach the father of a girl before offering himself in marriage to her has now, to some extent, died out.

[Sidenote: A man may not propose when her family object.]

At the same time it is considered dishonourable for any one to propose to a girl in the face of the decided disapprobation of her family. Clandestine courtship is also regarded as dishonourable, except in circumstances where the girl is unhappy or oppressed and needs a champion.

[Sidenote: Proposal in person.]

The usual way to ask for the admired one’s hand in marriage is in person. This is always preferable to writing, though some men have not the courage to adopt the first course.

[Sidenote: Asking the father’s permission.]

Should the lady accept the offer, the happy wooer must take the earliest opportunity of seeing her father, or, failing him, her nearest friend, and begging him to permit the engagement. Should he consent, all is well; but in the contrary case, his decision must be accepted. To allow a girl to engage herself against the wish of her family

[Sidenote: Should the father refuse consent.]

is to drag her into a false position. Very often submission to the decree effects more towards procuring its reversal than violent opposition. It is difficult, of course, for young people to be patient, but if they can only manage a little of it they would find the truth of the French proverb, “All things come round to those who know how to wait.”

[Sidenote: The engagement ring.]

Immediately upon having the engagement ratified, the accepted suitor gives the lady an engagement ring. This should be as handsome a present as he can afford to buy. Together with all other presents and correspondence on both sides, this ring must be returned if the engagement should be broken off.

[Sidenote: One’s duty to one’s betrothed.]

The accepted man is in duty bound to spend most of his leisure with his intended bride. He must not go off for a sojourn abroad while she is spending some weeks by the sea in England, unless she has expressed a wish to that effect. It would be a considerable “snub” to her to do so.

[Sidenote: A significant announcement.]

Society has sometimes been amused by the announcement one day of a “marriage having been arranged between Mr. A. and Miss B.,” and on the next of the intention of Mr. A. to start for a tour round the world. This almost always means that the man has been entrapped into a proposal, and would willingly retreat if he honourably could. Such things happen only too often. Manœuvring mothers have much to answer for in the matter. Worldly girls have often sufficient wisdom of the serpent to bring a reluctant wooer to the point and, by immediately announcing the engagement to their friends, to make it extremely difficult for him to retreat.

Sometimes a girl falls so wildly in love with a man that she creates a kind of corresponding, though passing, fervour in him, and while it lasts he believes himself in love, though his emotions are only a mixture of gratified vanity and that physical attraction which needs true love to redeem it from the fleshly sort.

[Sidenote: When a girl takes the initiative.]

Should marriage follow upon such courtships as these, where the girl takes ever the initiative, the union is very seldom a happy one. The wife never feels sure that her husband really loves her or would have chosen her. She knows that he was her choice, rather than she his, and a racking jealousy seizes her and makes her not only miserable herself, but a very uncomfortable companion for him.

[Sidenote: The unhappy sequel.]