Part 7

He, too, often finds when it is too late that she fulfils none of his ideals, and is in many ways a contrast to the girl he would have chosen if she had not whirled him into the vortex of her own strong feeling. And he occasionally wonders if she may not some day experience a similar strength of attraction for some other man and let herself be carried away by it as she had been by her feeling for him. “Hot fires soon burn out,” he thinks, and remembers the warning given to Othello: “She hath deceived her father, and may thee.”

[Sidenote: Long engagements.]

No man should drag a girl into a long engagement. Nor should any man propose to a girl until he is in a position to provide for her.

[Sidenote: And unsuitable positions.]

He is only standing in the way of other wooers who may be well supplied with this world’s gear. Such trifles as wealth and ease may appear as nought to the mind of the youthful lover, not to be weighed for a moment in the balance with love and young romance. The girl, too, may be of the same way of thinking at the time, but it the more behoves the man, the stronger, to consider her and to remember that poverty is such a bitter and a cruel thing that it even kills love at times.

[Sidenote: A man’s duty to look at cold facts.]

Recrimination in the home is a hard thing to bear. And yet how many millions of women since the world began have said to their husband: “Oh, why did I ever marry you? I could have done so much better.”

And how many men have said to their wives: “Well! You were determined to have me, so now you must make the best of me.”

However, we will suppose these rocks and quicksands past, the engaged couple happy, and the wedding day at hand.

[Sidenote: The bridegroom’s obligations.]

Custom demands that the bridegroom shall present her bouquet to the bride, as well as bouquets and a present each to the bridesmaids. He must furnish the house for the bride in every detail, not excepting the house and table linen, which, in the old days of spinning-wheels, was wont to be contributed by the bride herself.

[Sidenote: The best man.]

He must provide the wedding ring and the carriage in which his best man and himself go to church. He pays the fees to clergyman and clerk, but it is the best man who hands them over. With him the bridegroom waits at the altar till the bride arrives. She takes her place at his left hand for the first time, and at the proper moment he produces the ring which is the symbol of their union.

[Sidenote: The bridegroom’s dress.]

The usual dress of a bridegroom consists of a very dark blue frock-coat, light trousers, light or white scarf-tie, patent boots, and a new hat.

_DRESS._

It is absolutely true, though in a very limited sense, that the tailor makes the man.

[Sidenote: Importance of dress.]

If a man does not dress well in society he cannot be a success. If he commits flagrant errors in costume he will not be invited out very much, of that he may be certain.

[Sidenote: The penalty of solecisms of costume.]

If he goes to a garden party in a frock-coat and straw hat, he is condemned more universally than if he had committed some crime. The evidence of the latter would not be upon him for all men to read, as the evidence of his ignorance in social forms is, in his mistaken notions of dress. Things are more involved than ever in the sartorial line, since so many new sports and pastimes have sprung up for men.

[Sidenote: Tailors not always to be relied on.]

A man cannot consult his tailor upon every trifling detail, even if his tailor were always a perfectly reliable authority, which is not always the case, for there are tailors and tailors. A young man’s finances do not always allow him to go to one of the best, and the second and third-rate artists in cloth are apt to purvey second and third-rate fashions to their customers. A brief summary of the forms of dress appropriate to various occasions may be of some use to the inexperienced. It is obvious that to enter into detail would be out of place in a matter where change is the order of the day.

[Sidenote: “Certain fixed rules.”]

But there are certain fixed rules that are, in a sense, permanent, and with these I may succinctly deal.

[Sidenote: For morning wear.]

For morning wear the morning-coat or jacket or the tweed suit is correct. After lunch, when in town, the well-dressed man may continue to wear his morning-coat or the regulation frock-coat, with trousers of some neat, striped grey mixture. The tailor’s name for the material of these is “mixed cheviots.”

[Sidenote: Light trousers.]

It is not considered good form to wear very light trousers except on special occasions, such as weddings, garden parties, or afternoon assemblies of a festive kind. Even then it is better to err on the quiet side than to be over-loud.

[Sidenote: Black coats.]

The days of broadcloth have long gone by, and coats are now made of vicuna cloth or black twilled worsteds, with a dull finish and of an elastic quality. Waistcoats may be single or double-breasted. There is no restriction as to the colour of the tie.

[Sidenote: The Park suit.]

The Park suit may consist of a grey or light-brown frock-coat, with waistcoat and trousers to match, and this is the usual dress for Ascot, the smartest of all the races. At Sandown the low hat and tweed suit, or long racing coat, are worn, except on such days as the Princess of Wales is present, when the Prince sets the example of wearing a black coat and silk hat, and all other men are expected to follow his example.

[Sidenote: For a summer morning in the Park.]

For a morning walk in the Park in summer the straw hat, or low hat and tweed suit, are as correct as the black coat and silk hat. But it must be remembered that a straw hat or low hat cannot be worn with a black coat of any kind.

[Sidenote: Brown boots.]

The “pot” hat and brown boots are permissible with an overcoat, under which there may be a tweed suit, but brown boots may not otherwise accompany a black coat, though they are admissible with the Ascot suit.

[Sidenote: Special suits.]

There are special suits for all kinds of outdoor amusements, such as shooting, golfing, tennis, boating, driving, riding, bicycling, fishing, hunting, &c., but into the details of these it is unnecessary to enter.

[Sidenote: Spoiling an otherwise good effect.]

It may be remarked, however, that it is easy to stultify the whole effect of these, however perfectly they may be “built” by the tailor, by the addition of a single incongruous article of attire; such as a silk hat or patent boots with a shooting-suit.

[Sidenote: The modern dress-coat.]

The dress-coat is no longer made of broadcloth, the shiny finish of which would now have a very old-fashioned appearance. The ordinary evening coat is made of an elastic twill cloth, with a dull finish. Its elasticity makes it fit to perfection when cut by a good tailor. Of course it would be incorrect to wear other than black trousers with it. The waistcoat is much cut away, to show a wide expanse of immaculately got-up shirt-front.

This is the only correct costume for evening wear on all occasions of a formal nature.

[Sidenote: The dinner-jacket.]

The dinner-jacket has very largely superseded the dress-coat for home wear and at dinners in houses where one is a familiar guest. It is occasionally seen at the play, too, but it would be incorrect to wear it when accompanying ladies.

[Sidenote: On evening dress at theatres.]

Etiquette is not now nearly so strict as it used to be in the matter of evening dress in the stalls, private boxes, and dress circle of the theatres. I think this is rather to be deplored, but the wave of democracy that has poured over society of late has left its impress in this as in other matters. Though theatre managers put on the tickets special to the best seats “Evening Dress,” I have seen half-a-dozen men in the stalls dressed in a variety of unorthodox fashions, and once, in August, I even saw a man in a boating suit come in, straw hat in hand, and, ushered by an unprotesting attendant, take his seat. In the off-season, when all the fashionable people are out of town, this was not, perhaps, very surprising.

[Sidenote: A courageous young man.]

But he must have been a courageous young man.

[Sidenote: Mourning dress.]

Mourning for men seems almost a dead-letter nowadays, except in the first two or three weeks after bereavement. A widower’s mourning is not worn for more than a couple of months, unless the widower should belong to the numerous class who cling conservatively to old customs, and believe that to doff his weeds would imply some disrespect to his late wife.

Disraeli, in his “Endymion,” puts the following words in the mouth of Mr. Vigo, the great tailor:--

[Sidenote: “Dress does not make a man.”]

“Dress does not make a man, but it often makes a successful one. The most precious stone, you know, must be cut and polished. I have known many an heiress lost by her suitor being ill-dressed. You must dress according to your age, your pursuits, your object in life; you must dress, too, in some cases, according to your set. In youth a little fancy is rather expected, but if political life be your object, it should be avoided--at least after one-and-twenty.

[Sidenote: “But it often makes a successful one.”]

I am dressing two brothers now, men of considerable position; one is a mere man of pleasure, the other will probably be a Minister of State. They are as like as two peas, but were I to dress the dandy and the minister the same, it would be bad taste--it would be ridiculous. No man gives me the trouble which Lord Eglantine does; he has not made up his mind whether he will be a great poet or a Prime Minister. ‘You must choose, my lord,’ I tell him. ‘I cannot send you out looking like Lord Byron if you mean to be a Canning or a Pitt.’

“What all men should avoid is the ‘shabby genteel.’ No man ever gets over it. I will save you from that. You had better be in rags.”

_COUNTRY LIFE._

[Sidenote: Dress in the country.]

Dress in the country varies considerably in many matters from that worn in town. A boy’s first “country suit” after he leaves school is a great event to him.

[Sidenote: The first suit of tweeds.]

At Eton and Harrow the style of dress might almost be called a uniform, and the first suit of tweeds marks the emancipation from school-life. When in the country he dons these the first thing in the morning, unless he should be on hunting or bicycling thoughts intent, or should incline towards tennis, boating, or the slow delights of angling. After lunch a change has occasionally to be made.

[Sidenote: At a garden party.]

Should a garden party be in question, he may take his choice between tweed suit and low hat or cutaway coat with silk hat. If he happen to be great on tennis the tweed suit would be naturally his choice, unless it were distinctly understood that the game would form a prominent feature of the afternoon’s entertainment. In this case flannels would be worn. Sometimes very ceremonious garden parties take place in the country, when Royalty or distinguished persons are expected to be present, when the frock coat and its usual accompaniments would not be out of place.

[Sidenote: Invitations to breakfast.]

Invitations to breakfast in the country are by no means unusual. The dress would consist of that ordinarily worn in the mornings, whether tweed suit, knickerbockers, hunting or riding gear, or the black morning-coat or suit. Frequently a silk hat is never seen between Sunday and Sunday.

[Sidenote: Church-going costume.]

Churchgoers still, to a certain extent, affect it, but in these days of outdoor life, bicycling, and so on, the costume worn by men in church is experiencing the same modifications that characterise it in other departments. The details of shooting suits can always be studied in the illustrated advertisements of the tailors. A man’s wardrobe is now almost as varied as a woman’s. He has different costumes for walking, riding, driving, visiting, boating, hunting, shooting, golfing, bicycling, tennis, and cricket, dining, smoking, and lounging, football, racing, and yachting, to say nothing of uniform and Court suit, besides the now developing motor-car costume.

_VISITING-CARDS AND CALLS._

It is necessary for every young man to have a supply of visiting-cards, and for these there is one fixed rule, any departure from which betokens want of knowledge of the customs of well-bred people.

[Sidenote: Visiting-cards, size and style.]

The size must be exactly three inches by one and a half. The pasteboard must be pure white and glossy and the lettering must be in italic.

An idea prevails among young men of a certain class that it is incorrect to put the title “Mr.” before their own name on a visiting-card. This is a great mistake. Not to put it is to show oneself lacking in _savoir faire_.

[Sidenote: The customary or other title must precede the name.]

The name must always be preceded by “Mr.” or “Sir,” or other title. The address must occupy the left-hand corner, and the name of one’s club or clubs must follow it.

[Sidenote: In the absence of a permanent address.]

When a young man has no permanent address, it is well to have only his name printed, filling in the address in pencil before leaving or presenting his card.

[Sidenote: The hours for calling.]

The hours for calling are from four to seven in the afternoon, but young men who are not on very intimate terms with the family should carefully abstain from calling after six o’clock, lest they should be the last and solitary caller.

[Sidenote: On arrival.]

When the door is opened, and the question, “Is Mrs. Blank at home?” answered in the affirmative, the visitor is invited to follow the servant. He may take off his overcoat if he wishes, but he must carry his hat and stick in his hand. The right-hand glove must be removed. The gloved hand is never given to a lady, certain exceptional circumstances proving the rule.

[Sidenote: Greeting the hostess.]

Arrived in the drawing-room, he holds his hat and glove in the left hand, greets hostess first, she shaking hands with him, and then he looks round the room and greets any acquaintance he may recognise, going up to them if he knows them well, bowing if his previous knowledge of them has been slight. Having taken his seat, he still holds his hat in his hand, and he must find small talk as best he can, for sitting silent is awkward for him and distressing to his hostess. She, by the way, will probably say, “Would you not like to put down your hat?” indicating some spot where he may lay it. The reason of carrying the hat to the drawing-room

[Sidenote: The reason why the hat is carried.]

is a somewhat subtle one. It is based on the supposition that the masculine caller feels himself privileged in being permitted to pay his respects, and feeling himself on sufferance, is ready to leave in a moment, hat in hand, should he not find his presence agreeable and acceptable.

I have a private theory that this custom is cherished and kept up by men from a conviction that their hats are much safer in their own sight in the drawing-room than they would be downstairs in the hall. New umbrellas have been taken instead of old, as we all know, and new hats are quite as tempting, if not more so.

[Sidenote: The card should not be sent up.]

Do not send your card up when making a call. This is reserved for business men. The servant asks your name, and it must be given very distinctly. It will then be announced in a loud, clear voice when the door is opened. Should the hostess show by her manner that she has not recognised the name, its owner must recall himself to her memory by saying, “I am Mr. So-and-so. I had the pleasure of,” &c., &c., explaining the circumstances that led to the call.

[Sidenote: Leaving the card on departure.]

The visiting-card must be left on the hall table when the caller goes away, one card for the ladies of the house, and one for the gentleman or gentlemen, whether these latter have been present or absent during the call.

Should the lady called on be “Not at home” the cards are given to the servant.

[Sidenote: Rendering an important service.]

When a man has rendered an unknown lady some really important service, as in the case of a street accident or some other disagreeable circumstance in which he has been able to avert from her some unpleasantness which she would have otherwise incurred, the lady will probably ask him to let her know to whom she is indebted for so much kindness. The proper course to pursue is to disclaim any special obligation, but if the lady persists, it is then good manners to give the name. Should the gentleman feel very much interested in the lady, he may say, “I should very much like to call to-morrow to find out if you are none the worse for your adventure.” She may then give him her address, and he would give her his card.

[Sidenote: A trivial service.]

But this would all be very much out of place if the affair had been some mere matter of common courtesy, such as picking up some article dropped by a lady and restoring it to her. A gentleman in such circumstances raises his hat and retires as quickly as possible, lest the lady should imagine that he could base a claim to her acquaintance on the performance of so trivial a service.

It is only the “cad” who thus presumes, and the “cad-ess” who allows him to do so.

Visiting-cards are never sent by post. They denote a call in person.

[Sidenote: P.P.C. Cards.]

The only exception to this rule is in sending out P.P.C. cards.

These are always sent by post. The letters denote _pour prendre congé_ (“to take leave”), and are used when it is found impossible to call and say goodbye to all one’s circle of acquaintance.

A call after a ball or dinner-party must be made within the week, and cards left.

[Sidenote: Sickness and death.]

In calling to inquire after the welfare of an invalid, or after the family has suffered bereavement, cards are always left. If a man is on intimate terms with a family that has suffered bereavement, he sometimes uses cards with a slight line of black, and should he write a letter of condolence, notepaper and envelopes with the same slight indication of mourning on them. This expresses sympathy and a personal share in the sorrow felt.

In making a call after death has visited any family, the dress of the caller should be attuned to the occasion, and should be of a sombre order, though it need not be precisely mourning.

When a man is a frequent visitor to any house, he may leave his hat and stick in the hall.

The umbrella is never taken into a drawing-room.

[Sidenote: After an invitation.]

Cards must be left after an invitation, whether the latter be accepted or not.

In case of not wishing to pursue the acquaintance of the person who sent the invitation, it is sufficient to leave the cards without inquiring whether the lady is at home.

[Sidenote: Terminating an acquaintanceship with courtesy.]

If a man should wish, for any reason, to courteously end an acquaintanceship, he can do it without any of the intolerable “cutting,” a method resorted to only by the rough and uncultivated.

[Sidenote: The final call.]

He may make a call that, in his own mind, he knows to be a final one, remaining only just the quarter of an hour that is the minimum length of such functions, and preserving a certain gravity of demeanour which is as free from “sulks” as it is from other forms of bad temper. After this, he may leave cards once more without asking if the ladies of the family are at home. In this way he can gradually and with perfect courtesy break off the intimacy.

[Sidenote: In the street.]

In the street he raises his hat but does not stop to speak. It is quite possible to ignore the attempt to do so on the opposite side, but should circumstances be such as to make it difficult to do so without positive rudeness, he must stop, putting an end to the conversation at the earliest possible moment.

[Sidenote: Duration of call.]

A call should never extend over half an hour unless the caller be expressly requested to prolong it.

[Sidenote: Consulting the watch.]

A gentleman never looks at his watch during a call, at a dinner-party, afternoon reception or ball. This is prohibited because the inference would be that time was dragging with him and that he was anxious to get away. A man may feel such anxiety, but he must hide it if he would be deemed well-bred.

Young men who do not pay their duty call and leave a card after any entertainment, are likely to be omitted from the list of guests invited on some succeeding occasion.

[Sidenote: When a man finds himself “dropped.”]

Occasionally it happens that a young man finds himself “dropped” by some family with whom he has been on terms of intimacy. He is debarred by the rules of polite society from asking for an explanation, it being a canon of good breeding never to ask questions that are embarrassing to reply to. This has been embodied in a very outspoken and unceremonious phrase “you ask me no questions, I tell you no lies.” There is a deep truth in it, nevertheless, and even in family life it is well to observe it.

Sometimes the reason a young man is dropped in this way is that something to his disadvantage has been discovered.

[Sidenote: An occasional reason.]

But not unfrequently the true reason is that one of the daughters of the house has shown a preference for his society which the parents think should be checked. Girls of the present day do not always exercise the well-bred self-control that is the rule of good society in such matters. To love unsought is a misfortune for any girl, leading inevitably to much mortification and humiliation, but these may be minimised if she can only practice a dignified reticence about her feelings.

[Sidenote: Putting out a feeler.]

But should a young man thus capriciously (as it seems to him) be left out in the cold be on sufficiently good terms with a son of the house, it would be quite in rule for him to put out a feeler or two on the subject: “I say, old fellow, I wonder if I have been so unfortunate as to offend your people in any way?” He will soon discover, from the aspect of his interlocutor, whether he is likely to gain any information on the matter.

CALLS OF INQUIRY.