The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners Part 7

Bring no large sewing into the ladies' drawing-room, and nothing that will produce clippings or litter. Whenever you have occasion to write more than a few lines, do it in your own apartment. It is well to have always there a small writing-case of your own, with paper, pens, ink, wafers, sealing-wax, envelopes, post-office stamps, &c. There are very neat little writing-cases, (to be purchased at the best stationers,) that are fitted with receptacles for all the above articles, excepting paper; the whole occupying no more s.p.a.ce in your travelling-satchel than a needle-book. The ink is so secured, that there is no danger of its spilling. You may even carry these writing-cases in your pocket as conveniently as a card-case. As writing-paper should not be folded or rolled in packing, lay it flat in a small port-folio, and put it into your trunk. You will find great convenience, when from home, to have with you a little a.s.sortment of writing materials.

Except in cases of illness, it is well to decline invitations to visit ladies in their own apartments, unless you are very intimately acquainted with them, or have some particular business. Too much sociability may induce communications too confidential; and subsequent events may prove this confidence to be misplaced. Among the ladies staying at a hotel, there is always more harmony, when they all content themselves with meeting at table, or in the public drawing-room. Young ladies should not encourage daily morning visits from young men boarding at the same house, particularly if these visits are long. In our country, nearly every young man is obliged, in some way, to get his own living; and few can afford to idle away their mornings in loitering about parlours, and talking flirtation. A youth who pa.s.ses his time in this manner, is a beau not worth having. A man that deserves to be called a _good match_ has something else to do with his mornings. Ladies at hotels should be specially careful not to make acquaintance with gentlemen of whom they know nothing. If a man of notoriously dissipated or immoral character, presumes to request an introduction to a lady who is aware of his bad reputation, let her at once reply that not considering the acquaintance desirable, she must be excused for declining it. It is better thus to keep off an objectionable man, (even with the certainty of offending him,) than weakly to subject yourself to the annoyance and discredit (perhaps, still worse) of allowing him to boast of his intimacy with you.

In conversing with gentlemen at hotels, (and all other places,) try not to fall into the too common practice of talking to him nothing but nonsense. It is a problem difficult to solve, that so many ladies of good abilities and cultivated minds, and who always with their own s.e.x talk like intelligent, sensible women, should, as soon as they get into conversation with a gentleman, seem immediately to take leave of rationality, and demean themselves like utter fools--giving way at once to something they call _excitement_, now the fas.h.i.+onable word for almost every feeling that is wrong.

We grieve to see a charming, modest, refined young lady, almost the moment a gentleman begins to talk to her, changing her whole demeanour, and quickly becoming bold, forward, noisy, and nonsensical; chattering at the top of her voice about nothing; and keeping up a continual laugh about nothing. Does she suppose he cannot understand her if she talks sense,--or does she think he will like her the better for regaling him with nothing but folly? She is, in all probability, egregiously mistaken, unless the gentleman is himself a simpleton.

Let it not be supposed that we have any objection to that sprightliness which is one of the most agreeable characteristics of youth. On the contrary, we are glad to see vivacity in women of all ages; and if they have a sprinkling of wit and humour, so much the better. But we wish them to do themselves justice; and not, when conversing with men, run wild, because it _is_ with men; and give themselves up to all manner of folly, such as would be pointless, vapid, and insipid, if it was not seasoned with causeless laughter, and with eyes keeping time to the tongue, rolling about in perpetual motion at nothing. We do not wish ladies in conversing, even with men of sense, to confine themselves always to grave discussions on important subjects. On the contrary, gay and lively conversation is always pleasant, when well-timed. But those who have not a talent for wit and humour, had best not attempt it.

Again, in listening to a woman of real wit, you will see that it is her hearers who laugh, and not herself.

Persons who have no turn for humour, and little perception of it, are apt to mistake mere coa.r.s.eness for that amusing gift; and in trying to be diverting, often become vulgar--a word not too severe for things that are sometimes said and written by very good people who wish to be funny, and do not know how. For instance, there is no wit, but there is shocking ungentility, in a lady to speak of taking a "snooze" instead of a nap,--in calling pantaloons "pants," or gentlemen "gents,"--in saying of a man whose dress is getting old that he looks "seedy,"--and in alluding to an amusing anecdote, or a diverting incident, to say that it is "rich." All slang words are detestable from the lips of ladies.

We are always sorry to hear a young lady use such a word as "polking"

when she tells of having been engaged in a certain dance too fas.h.i.+onable not long since; but happily, now it is fast going out, and almost banished from the best society. To her honour be it remembered, Queen Victoria has prohibited the polka being danced in her presence. How can a genteel girl bring herself to say, "Last night I was polking with Mr.

Bell," or "Mr. Cope came and asked me to polk with him." Its coa.r.s.e and ill-sounding name is worthy of the dance.

If you own a lap-dog or poodle, recollect that however charming it may be to yourself, others may regard it as an annoyance; therefore, try to do without it when you are in the parlour of a house that is not your own, and when the company present does not consist entirely of your own family. All but their infatuated mistresses soon become very tired of the society of these animals. Poodles are generally peevish, whining, and snappish, p.r.o.ne to get under chairs and bite at feet, and to writhe about the skirts of dresses. Their faces often look old, withered, cross, and blear-eyed, seeming as if constantly troubled by the hair that dangles uncomfortably in their eyes; and they are seldom healthy.

They have none of the honest, grateful, affectionate character common to dogs of larger growth. Though they often inspire their mistress with a love that becomes such a mania as to weaken her affection for all other things, they seldom make friends of any one else. We include what is called a King Charles's dog in the same category. For instance Jip--whose character is as true to nature, and as admirably drawn as that of Dora herself.

Should a visiter come in to see one of the boarders who may be sitting near you, change your place, and take a seat in a distant part of the room. It is ill-manners to remain, and listen to the conversation. It is best for the visited lady to meet her friend as soon as she sees her enter the room, and conduct her to a sofa or ottoman where they can enjoy their talk without danger of being overheard. After the visiter is gone, do not enquire her name of the friend she has just called on.

It is _not_ well to call at the same time on two ladies both living at the same house, (so as to make one visit suffice for both,) unless they are intimate friends of each other, or unless your stay in the city will be very short. If one is taciturn, and the other conversable, she that is silent may imagine herself neglected, by the dialogue being chiefly between those who can talk fluently, as it certainly will be, if the third person only speaks when spoken to, and replies in monosyllables.

It is better to make a separate visit to each lady, on different days.

There is another way, and a very good one. For instance, should Mrs.

Canning wish to call on Mrs. Austin and Miss Lovel, both inmates of the same house, let her, when shown into the parlour, send up her name to Mrs. Austin first. When that lady comes down, and she and her friend have conversed about as long as the usual term of a morning call, Mrs.

Canning will rise to depart, and when Mrs. Austin has seen her to the parlour door, Mrs. C. may say, "I will detain you no longer," or "I will encroach no longer on your time, but I am going now to send up for Miss Lovel."

Mrs. Austin then takes her leave, and goes up-stairs, (_her_ part of the visit being over;) while Mrs. Canning returns to her seat in the parlour, having first rung the bell, and sent for Miss Lovel.

In this manner, two distinct visits may be politely made to two ladies living in the same hotel--and it is very customary.

Any lady that lives at a hotel can in some degree make a return for the civilities received from private families, by occasionally inviting a friend to dine or take tea with her. These dinners or teas are of course always charged in her bill. If she expects a friend, she will previously send to apprize the head-waiter that she wishes him to reserve a seat next to her own, for a lady. She should give her arm to her guest, in going to the table.

If a friend chances to call, whom she really wishes to stay and dine or drink tea with her, she should ask her guest to take off her bonnet as soon as she comes in; giving her the invitation at once, and not delaying it till the visiter is about taking her leave.

Even in a private house, such extemporaneous invitations (which if evidently sincere, are always gratifying, whether accepted or not) should be given _immediately_, as soon as the hostess meets her guest.

There will then be time to order any improvement in the table arrangements that may be deemed necessary.

We often have occasion to repeat, that whatever is done at all, should be done well.

If, while in the parlour of the hotel, you wish to know if a person you are desirous of seeing is staying at the house, the easiest way to obtain the information, is not to enquire round of the ladies present, but to ring the bell, and desire the waiter to go and ask at the office.

You can then send a message accordingly. It should be a card with a message pencilled on it.

By sending to the office you may learn where all the public places in the city and its environs are to be found. Also, where the churches are situated.

You may be sure that the most fas.h.i.+onable shops are in the main street.

At any stationer's, you can buy a small pocket-map of the city, folded in a little morocco case. This will be an almost indispensable aid in finding your way. In Philadelphia, the arrangement of the long streets that run east and west from the Delaware to the Schuylkill, has given occasion to the old rhyme of

Market, Arch, Race and Vine, Chestnut, Walnut, Spruce and Pine.

If when about to ascend the stairs, you find that a gentleman is going up at the same time, draw back and make a sign for him to precede you.

He will bow, and pa.s.s on before you. When coming down, do the same, that the gentleman may descend in advance of you.

A very polished man will not wait for a signal from the lady, but will bow and run up-stairs, pa.s.sing her as a thing of course.

Do not idly detain a parlour newspaper on your lap, for half an hour or more, after you have done reading it. As soon as you have read all you want, replace it on the table, or transfer it to another lady, who may wish to read it, and who may have been waiting anxiously to see you lay it out of your hand. You have no right to monopolize any thing that is intended for the convenience of the whole company.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Nevertheless, it is not good manners to make any remark (even to a friend) on their coming to breakfast late or early. It is no concern of yours, and they have reasons of their own, undoubtedly.

[10] Americans never really say _n.i.g.g.e.rs_, though constantly accused of doing so by their British cousins. The word _negor_ we have heard, but _n.i.g.g.e.r_ never.

[11] It is customary with professional or public musicians, when in private company, to volunteer a song or a piece; knowing that, out of delicacy, no one will _ask_ them to give a gratuitous specimen of the art by which they live. This is polite and proper. It is always duly appreciated, and adds to the popularity of the performer.

CHAPTER XI.

HOTEL DINNER.

In dressing for a hotel dinner, it is not well to adopt a full evening costume, and to appear as if attired for a ball; for instance, with a coloured velvet gown; or one of a splendid brocade; or a transparent gauze material over a satin; or with short sleeves and bare neck in cold weather; or with flowers or jewels in the hair. Such costumes should be reserved for evening parties. If worn at the table d'hote, it may be suspected you have no other place in which to display them. Your dress need not be more showy than you would wear when dining at a private house, particularly if you are a permanent boarder. There is no place where dress escapes with less scrutiny than at a great hotel. Still, it is bad taste to go to the dinner-table in ungenteel and unbecoming habiliments--such as a figured or party-coloured mousseline-de-laine, a thing which always has the effect of calico, and, like calico, gives an unlady-like look even to the most decided lady. In fact, what is it but woollen calico? And if it is accompanied by a very thin, flimsy collar, so small and narrow as to be scarcely visible, the neck and face will look dingy and ill-coloured for want of sufficient white to relieve it.

No collar at all, but merely a coloured silk handkerchief, or a coloured dress, coming immediately against the neck, is disfiguring to all women, and men too.

Most American ladies beyond the age of thirty-five, look better in caps than without them, even if their hair shows no signs of middle age.

Before that time, the females of our country begin to fade, evincing one effect of torrid summers and frozen winters. A tasteful and simply elegant cap (not one that is elaborate in its design, and loaded with ornament,) imparts a grace and softness to a faded face, and renders less conspicuous the inroads of time. A decidedly old lady, persisting in going with her head uncovered, is a pitiable object, and scarcely looks respectable. Worse still, when she takes to an auburn wig. Gray hair is seldom unbecoming to a man. To a woman it gives a masculine aspect, especially if worn without a cap; and if there is an attempt at long gray locks, or ringlets, the effect is strange, wild and ghastly.

It is far more becoming for an elderly lady to give a dark shade to her temples, and the upper part of her forehead, by a plain, simple, and becoming dark-coloured braid, not intended to pa.s.s as her natural hair, (for it never does,) but merely that the face should be set off by a due proportion of shadow,--and not be all light or lightish. If a decidedly old lady prefers wearing her own gray hair, let her part it smoothly on her forehead, but make no attempt at curls, and be sure to add a cap to it. An elderly female should, as we have said, _always_ wear a cap; and her cap should have tabs or broad strings to tie under her chin. There is no use or beauty in a lady looking older than is necessary, by wearing a short-eared or round-eared cap, set back from her head, and exposing all her cheeks even beyond her ears, with the crease in her chin, and the deep furrows or wrinkles on each side of her neck--all which can be concealed by bringing forward the bow of her cap tabs.

Let all ladies, old and young, avoid having their caps trimmed with ribbons or flowers of what are called high-colours; deep, heavy pinks and blues, and reddish lilacs. These colours vulgarize every thing they are intended to decorate. High-coloured ribbons, flowered or figured, are decidedly vulgar.

A profusion of jewels at a public table is in very bad taste, particularly if the jewellery is palpably false--for instance, a large brooch with great mock diamonds, or a string of wax beads meant for pearls. Still worse, gla.s.s things imitating topazes or garnets--or two or three gilt bracelets on one arm. A _large_ imitation gem always betrays its real quality by its size.

Endeavour to make your arrangements so as to be dressed for dinner, and seated in the ladies' drawing-room, about ten or fifteen minutes before the dining-hour, that you may be ready to go in with the rest of the company.

If you and your party are strangers, recently arrived, do not at once take the lead, and walk up to the head of the table, regardless of dislodging and causing inconvenience among the regular boarders, to whom those seats have been allotted. But desire a servant to show you a place. The head-waiter is usually at hand to arrange seats for the strangers, and he will attend to you. Persons not accustomed to hotels, frequently show a great craving for the seats near the head of the table. This is foolish. There are no places of honour; neither are the eatables better at one part of the table than another.

n.o.body "sits below the salt." And every one has an equal chance of obtaining a share of the nicest articles on the table. What is most desirable is to have a seat in the vicinity of agreeable people, and you will more frequently find them about the middle, or lower end of the table, than at the top--that being the place usually most coveted by the least genteel of the guests. We have seen the Chief Magistrate of the Union, "the ruler of millions," simply take a seat near the door, at the lower end of a hotel-table, in Philadelphia, having arrived unexpectedly.

As we have said before, we perceive not the propriety or the convenience of a large party of strangers, on entering in a body, pertinaciously making their way to the upper end of the table, with a determination to obtain seats all in a row; as if the whole row together could join in the same conversation, or even _see_ each other, when they sit on the same side.

In seating yourself, look down for a moment to see if you have placed the foot of your chair on the dress of the lady sitting next to you; and if you have done so, remove it immediately, that her dress may be in no danger of tearing when she attempts to rise. Sit close to the table, but never lean your elbows upon it. To sit far from it, and reach out distantly, is very awkward. Having unfolded your napkin, secure it to your belt with a pin, to prevent its slipping down from your lap, and falling under the table. This may be done so that the pinning will not be perceptible. Bring with you a spare pin or two for this purpose,--or keep always a pincus.h.i.+on in your pocket. It is much better than to incur the risk of getting your dress greased or stained by the napkin deserting your lap. If such accidents _should_ happen, pa.s.s them over slightly, and do not lose your temper. For the present, wipe the spot with your napkin, and dip the corner in water, and rub it lightly over the grease-mark. When dinner is over, you can finish repairing the injury in your own room. The coloured waiters are generally very clever at removing grease-spots from dresses. One of them will do it for you after dinner. The stain of wine or fruit may in most cases be taken out of a washable article by laying it immediately in cold water.

To eat in gloves or mittens was always foolish; fortunately it is no longer fas.h.i.+onable; but greatly the contrary.