Kitabı oku: «The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners», sayfa 16

Never give an infant a book to play with. He will most assuredly tear it; that being the only amusement it can afford him. It is possible at a very early age to teach a tractable female child such a respect for books that she will never attempt to injure them. When they are old enough to take pleasure in looking at the pictures, it is easy to accustom them to be always satisfied with the books being shown to them in the hands of grown persons. Do not buy those books that have absurd and revolting prints of people with gigantic heads and diminutive bodies. Children always dislike them, and so they ought.

Rejoice when a little girl shows a fondness for reading, and by all means encourage it. Keep her well supplied with good and entertaining books, and you will have little trouble with her. Do not needlessly interrupt, and call her off – but let her read in peace. It will do her more good than any thing else, and lay the foundation of an intelligent mind. A taste for reading, if not formed in early childhood, may perhaps never come at all. And then what a solace it is in bodily illness! How patiently a reading child, whose mind is stored with "pleasant memories," can bear pain, and submit to the confinement of a sick-bed. We have known more than one instance of the illness of a reading child taking a turn for the better, from the time she was indulged with an amusing and interesting book.

There is no place in which children appear to greater disadvantage or are less ungovernable than at hotels or boarding-houses. We are always sorry when the circumstances of parents oblige them permanently to live thus in public, with their young families, who are consequently brought up in a manner which cannot but have an unfavourable effect in forming the characters of the future men and women. By way of variety, and that they may not always be confined up-stairs, the children are encouraged, or at least permitted by their mothers, to spend much of their time in the drawing-room, regardless of the annoyance which their noise and romping never fails to inflict upon the legitimate occupants of that apartment. The parents, loving their children too much to be incommoded themselves by any thing that their offspring can say or do, seem not aware that they can possibly interrupt or trouble the rest of the company. Or else, conscious of their own inability to control them, they are afraid to check the children lest they should turn restive, rebel, or break out into a tantrum. "Any thing for the sake of peace," is a very foolish maxim where juveniles are concerned. By being firm once or twice, and dismissing them from the room when they deserve it, you may have peace ever after. The noisiest and most inconvenient time to have children in a public parlour is in the interval between their tea and their bed-time. Some children have no bed-time. And when they are tired of scampering and shouting, they lie about sleeping on the sofas, and cry if they are finally wakened, to go up with their mother when she retires for the night.

Still worse is the practice that prevails in some hotels and boarding-houses, of the mothers sending the nurse-maids with the babies, to sit in the drawing-room among the ladies; who are thus liable to have a vulgar and obtrusive servant-girl, most probably "from the old country," boldly taking her seat in the midst of them, or conspicuously occupying one of the front-windows; either keeping up a perpetual undercurrent of fulsome, foolish talk to the baby, or listening eagerly to the conversation around her, and, perhaps, repeating it invidiously as soon as she gets an opportunity. If one lady sends her nurse-maid to sit in the drawing-room with the child, all the other mothers of babies immediately follow suit, and the drawing-room becomes a mere nursery.

Every hotel should have a commodious and airy parlour set apart entirely for the children and nurses. The proprietors could easily afford to keep one good room for that purpose, if they would expend a little less on the finery of the parlours, &c. We have heard of an embroidered piano-cover, in a great hotel, costing fourteen hundred dollars, and the children pulling it down and dragging it about the floor. With a piano-cover of the usual cost, and other things less ostentatious, a children's parlour might well have been afforded in this very establishment.

At a hotel, if the children come to the ladies' table, they are always in danger of eating food that is highly improper for them, and they very soon learn to help themselves to much more than they want, and to eat voraciously, in their desire to "have something of every thing." There is always a table purposely for those children whose parents pay half-price for them; and at which the housekeeper presides. However good this table may be, and though the pies and puddings may be excellent, the mothers are frequently dissatisfied with the absence of ice-cream, blanc-mange, charlotte-russe, &c., though certainly, were they in houses of their own, they would not have such things every day. Therefore, though it is "not in the bond," the mothers carry away from the table saucers of these delicacies, and the children learn to expect a daily supply of them from the ladies' dining-room. This, we must say, is a mean practice. We have, however, known some mothers, who, really being "honourable women," sent every day to a confectioner's to buy ice-cream for their children.

There is danger at a hotel of little boys loitering about the bar or office, encouraged by unthinking young men, who give them "tastes of drink," and even amuse themselves by teaching them to smoke segars.

And no children, either boys or girls, can live at a public house without hearing and seeing much that it is best they should not know. The English travellers deprecate the American practice of bringing up young people in hotels or boarding-houses. And they are right.

When a lady, having with her a young child, and no nurse-maid, stops for a day at a hotel, she can avoid the inconvenience of taking the child with her to table, and incommoding herself and all who sit near her. She has only to entrust the little traveller to a chambermaid up-stairs; directing the girl how to take care of it, and promising her a gratuity for her trouble. She will rarely have cause to regret such an arrangement. It will spare the annoyance and mortification of having the child make a noise at table, and perhaps compelling the mother to go away with it.

CHAPTER XXIII.
DECORUM IN CHURCH

We wish it were less customary to go to church in gay and costly habiliments, converting its sacred precincts into a place for the display of finery, and of rivalry to your equally bedizened neighbours. In many Catholic countries,¹⁷ a peculiar costume is universally adopted for visiting a place of worship – a very plain gown of entire black, with a long, black cloak, and a black hood finished with a veil that shades the face. This dress is kept for the purpose of wearing at church. We highly approve the custom, and wish that something similar could be introduced into the United States – particularly on the solemn occasions of taking the communion, or being confirmed as a Christian member. We have known young ladies to have elegant dresses made on purpose, and to get their hair dressed by a barber when preparing for confirmation.

In a Sacred Melody of Moore's, St. Jerome tells us —

 
"Yet worldly is that heart at best,
Which beats beneath a broider'd veil;
And she who comes in glittering vest
To mourn her frailty – still is frail."
 

Endeavour always to be in your pew before the service commences, and do not hurry out of it, hastily, the moment the benediction is finished; or begin visibly to prepare for departure as soon as it commences. Stay quietly till the mass of the crowd has gone.

If you go into a strange church, or rather into a church where you are a stranger, wait in the vestibule till you see the sexton; and then request him to show you to a vacant seat, or rather to one which he believes will be that day unoccupied – for instance, if the family owning it is out of town. This is far better than to wander about the aisles alone, or to intrude yourself into a pew where you may cause inconvenience to its owners. If you see that a pew is full, you know, of course, that you cannot obtain a seat in it without dislodging somebody.

Yet we have seen many a lady, on entering a church in which she was a stranger, walk boldly up the middle aisle to one of the best pews near the pulpit, and pertinaciously stand there, looking steadfastly at its rightful occupants, till one of them quitted his own seat, and gave it up to her, seeking for himself another place wherever he could find one. Those who go to strange churches should be contented with seats near the door; or at the lower end of the side-aisles; or up in the gallery.

If a family invites you to go to church with them, or to come thither, and have a seat in their pew, do not take the liberty of asking a friend of your own to accompany you; and above all, do not bring a child with you.

Should you (having a pew of your own) ask another lady to go with you, call for her in due time; and she ought to be quite ready. Place her in a corner-seat, (it being the most comfortable,) and see that she is accommodated with a foot-stool; and be assiduous in finding the places for her in the prayer-book, or hymn-book.

In American churches there is much civility to strangers. We have often seen, when a person of respectable appearance was in quest of a seat, the doors of half a dozen pews kindly opened to admit him, and, as soon as he entered, a prayer-book offered to him open at the proper place.

No good can result from taking children to church when they are too young to read, or to understand. They are always eager to go, because they like to go everywhere; but when once seated in the pew, they soon become tired and restless; and frequently there is no way to keep them quiet, but to let them go to sleep in the lap of the mother or elder sister. And then they are apt to cry whenever they waken. If there are two little boys, they are prone to get to playing, or what is far worse, quarrelling. And then if they make a noise, some elder member of the family is subjected to the mortification of conveying them out of church – perhaps by desire of the minister audibly expressed from the pulpit. We know clergymen who do not permit their children to be taken to church till they can read – convinced that if their first recollections of a place of worship are rather painful than pleasant, they are the less likely to grow up with a due regard for religion – that is, for religion of the heart – the spirit, and not merely the letter.

We are sorry to see young ladies, on their way to church, laughing and talking loudly, and flirting with the beaux that are gallanting them thither. It is too probable that these beaux will occupy a large share of their thoughts during the hours of worship. Nay, there are some so irreverent, and so regardless of the sanctity of the place, as to indulge in frequent whispers to those near them, or to their friends in the adjoining pews.

A lady of high fashion and fortune, formerly a resident of Philadelphia, was noted for the scandalous lightness and levity of her behaviour in church – laughing and talking, in more than whispers, nearly all the time, to the idle young men whom she always brought with her, and who, to do them justice, sometimes seemed rather ashamed of her conduct. Her pew was directly in front of the pulpit. One Sunday morning, Bishop White gave her a severe and merited rebuke, by stopping in his sermon, fixing his eyes sadly upon her, and bowing to her, as an intimation that till she had ceased he could not go on. We are sorry to add that the reproof had no other effect than to excite her anger, and caused her immediately to go out of church, highly exasperated. That lady went to live in Europe, and has not yet become a good woman, but greatly the contrary.

"The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him," was the solemn and impressive inscription over the altar of St. Augustine's church in Philadelphia.

In visiting a church of a different denomination from your own, comply, as far as you can, with all the ceremonies observed by the congregation, particularly if you are in a foreign country. Even if some of these observances are not the least in conformity with your own opinions and feelings, remember that you are there as a guest, and have no right to offend or give displeasure to your hosts by evincing a marked disapprobation of their mode of worship. If you find it very irksome to refrain, (which it should not be,) you need not go a second time. Every religious sect believes its own faith to be the best; but God only knows which really is. Christ has said, "By their fruits ye shall know them."

CHAPTER XXIV.
EVENING PARTIES

Having made out a list of the persons you intend to invite, proceed to write the notes; or have them written in a neat, handsome hand, by an experienced calligrapher. Fashion, in its various changes, sometimes decrees that these notes, and their envelopes, shall be perfectly plain, (though always of the finest paper,) and that the wax seals shall of course be very small. At other times, the mode is to write on embossed note paper, with bordered envelopes, secured by fancy wafers, transparent, medallion, gold or silver. If the seals are gold or silver, the edges or borders of the paper should be also gilt or silvered. Sometimes, for a very large or splendid party, the notes are engraved and printed on cards. Consult the Directory, to obtain the exact address of those to whom you send them.

These invitations may be transmitted by one of the City post offices; first putting a stamp on each. Let the stamps be such as will leave nothing additional to be paid by the receiver. If they go through the United States Post-Office, the carrier will require another cent for each, beside the stamp. In Philadelphia, Blood's Dispatch Post may be trusted, as to punctuality, (if faithfully put into the letter-box at the proper time;) and there is no cost but that of the penny stamp which you put on yourself.

Another way is to send round the notes by a reliable servant-man of your own; or to engage, for this purpose, one of the public waiters that are hired to attend at parties. The notes are usually sent either eight, seven, or six days before the party – if it is to be very large, ten days or two weeks. In the notes, always specify not only the day of the week, but also the day of the month, when the party is to take place. It is very customary now to designate the hour of assembling, and then the company are expected to be punctual to that time. People, really genteel, do not go ridiculously late. When a ball is intended, let the word "Dancing" be introduced in small letters, at the lower left-hand corner of the note.

For a bridal party, subsequent to a wedding, the words now used are thus —

Mr. and Mrs. S. M. Morland,At Home, on Thursday evening, Sept. 22, 1853

Their residence must be given beneath, in a corner, and in smaller letters.

Oblong slices of plumb-cake, iced all over, are now sent round in very pretty white card-board boxes, exactly fitting each slice, covered on the inside with lace-paper, and an engraved card of the bride and groom laid on the top of the cake. These boxes (to be had at the fancy stationers,) are of various prices; some of them are very elegant and costly.

At wedding-parties, it is usual for the bride and bridesmaids to appear in exactly the same dresses they wore at the marriage; all of them ranged in their respective stations before the company begin to arrive.

When the marriage-guests are not too numerous, it is customary to have all the company shown into the largest parlour, when they first arrive; the folding-doors being closed between. Meanwhile, the bride and groom, bridesmaids and groomsmen, with the heads of the family, arrange themselves in a line or a semi-circle; the most important personages in the centre, with the clergyman in front of them. When all is ready, the doors are thrown open, the guests advance, and the ceremony begins. When it is over, and the bride is receiving the compliments of her friends, we hope the silliest woman present will not go up and ask her the foolish question, "If she does not feel already like an old married woman?"

A crowd at a wedding is now obsolete. We once heard of a marriage in a great family, where the company was so numerous that all the doors were blocked up, and quite inaccessible; and the bride could only make her entrance by being taken round outside, and lifted through a back window – the groom jumping in after her.

Dancing at weddings is old-fashioned. A band of music playing in the hall is of no use, as on such occasions no one listens to it, and some complain of the noise. We think a marriage in church is not as fine a spectacle as may be imagined. The effect is lost in the size of the building, and broken up by the intervention of the aisles and pews; the wedding guests seated in the latter, and the former occupied by people out of the street, coming in to see the show. And this they will do, if not forcibly excluded; particularly idle boys, and nurse-maids with children, all trying to get as near the altar as possible.

If the bride and groom are to set out on a journey immediately after the ceremony, it is best for her to be married in a handsome travelling-dress – new for the occasion, of course. This is often done now. She can reserve the usual wedding costume for her first party after returning home.

In preparing for a party, it is well (especially if you have had but little experience yourself,) to send for one of the best public waiters, and consult with him on the newest style of "doing these things." A respectable coloured man will be found the most efficient for this purpose. He can also give you an idea of the probable expense. We do not, of course, allude to magnificent entertainments, such as are celebrated in the newspapers, and become a nine days' wonder; and are cited as costing, not hundreds, but thousands of dollars.

In case the required waiter should be pre-engaged, it is well to send for, and consult him, a week or two before your party.

We knew a lady who, some years ago, sent for Carroll, (a very excellent mulatto man, well known in Philadelphia,) to officiate at a projected party. Carroll, in very polite terms, expressed that he was engaged for that identical evening to attend at a ball. "Then," said the lady, "you must try to furnish me with some one else, in your place. Where is Bogle?" "I know Bogle can't come," answered Carroll; "he is bespoke that night for a wedding." "Shepherd, then?" said the lady; "see if you cannot send me Shepherd." "As to Shepherd," replied Carroll, "he is sick in his bed, and like to keep so." "Where is Solomon King, then?" pursued the lady; "Solomon King will do very well." "Indeed, ma'am," answered Carroll, "I don't think Solomon King will suit you now, anyhow; he's taken very much to drink, and besides he's dead!"

Apropos to the talk of coloured people. – We were told by a southern lady, that one of her girls being dressed for an entertainment given by a neighbour to the servants, came to her, and said: "Mistress, Becky has come for me to go with her; and she says her mistress has gave her two grand words to say at the party. – Now, I want you to give me two words that shall beat Becky's; for I know you are a heap smarter than her mistress."

"Tell me the words given by Becky's mistress," said my informant.

"Yes, ma'am. – One is Desdemona, and one is Cataplasm!"

No doubt, Becky, in some way, contrived to say them both.

In engaging your presiding genius, it is well to desire him to come on the morning of the party; he will be found of great advantage in assisting with the final preparations. He will attend to the silver, and china, and glass; and see that the lamps are all in order, and that the fires, coal-grates, furnaces, &c., are in proper trim for evening. He will bring with him (at whatever hour you indicate,) his "young men," as he calls them; (if coloured youths, they are too genteel to answer to the name of boys;) and these are his apprentices that he has in training for the profession.

One of these men should be stationed in the vestibule, or just within the front door. On that evening, (if not at other times,) let this door be furnished with a lamp, placed on a shelf or bracket in the fan-light, to illumine the steps, and shine down upon the pavement, where the ladies cross it on alighting from the carriages. If the evening proves rainy, let another man attend with an umbrella, to assist in sheltering them on their way into the house. The ladies should all wear over-shoes, to guard their thin slippers from the damp, in their transit from the coach to the vestibule.

At the top, or on the landing-place, of the first stair-case, let another man be posted, to show the female guests to their dressing-room; while still another waiter stays near the gentlemen's room till the company have done arriving.

In the apartment prepared as a fixing-room for the ladies two or more women should be all the evening in attendance; both rooms being well warmed, well lighted, and furnished with all that may be requisite for giving the last touches to head, feet, and figure, previous to entering the drawing-room. When ready to go down, the ladies meet their gentlemen in the passage between the respective dressing-rooms; the beaux being there already, waiting for the belles, who must not detain them long – men being very impatient on these, and all other occasions.

If any lady is without an escort, and has no acquaintances at hand to take her under their wing, she should send for the master of the house to meet her near the door, and give her his arm into the drawing-room. He will then lead her to the hostess, and to a seat. Let her then bow, as a sign that she releases him from farther attendance, and leaves him at liberty to divide his civilities among his other guests.

In the ladies' room, (beside two toilet glasses with their branches lighted,) let a Psyche or Cheval glass be also there. Likewise, a hand-mirror on each toilet to enable the ladies to see the back of their heads; with an ample supply of pins, combs, brushes, hair pins, &c.; and a work-box containing needles, thread, thimble, and scissors, to repair accidents to articles of dress. Let there be bottles of fine eau de cologne, and camphor and hartshorn, in case of faintings. Among the furniture, have a sofa and several foot-stools, for the ladies to sit on if they wish to change their shoes.

The women attending must take charge of the hoods, cloaks, shawls, over-shoes, &c.; rolling up together the things that belong to each lady, and putting each bundle in some place they can easily remember when wanted at the breaking up of the assembly.

It is now the custom for the lady of the house (and those of her own family,) to be dressed rather plainly, showing no desire to eclipse any of her guests, on this her own night. But her attire, though simple, should be handsome, becoming, and in good taste. Her business is, without any bustle or apparent officiousness, quietly and almost imperceptibly to try and render the evening as pleasant as possible to all her guests; introducing those who, though not yet acquainted, ought to be; and finding seats for ladies who are not young enough to continue standing.

The custom that formerly prevailed in the absurd days of crowds and jams, when dense masses were squeezed into small apartments, of removing every seat and every piece of furniture from the room, is now obsolete. A hard squeeze is no longer a high boast. Genteel people no longer go to parties on the stair-case, or in the passages. The ladies are not now so compressed that nothing of them is seen but their heads; the sleeves, skirts, &c., undergoing a continual demolition down below. We knew of a lady, who, at a late hour, went to a crowded party in a real blonde dress, which was rubbed entirely off her before she reached the centre of the room, and it was hanging about her satin skirt in shreds, like transparent rags dissolving into "air – thin air!" For this blonde she had given two hundred dollars; and she was obliged to go home and exchange its tatters for a costume that was likely to last out the evening.

In houses where space is not abundant, it is now customary to have several moderate parties in the course of the season, instead of inviting all your "dear five hundred friends" on the self-same night.

When the hour of assembling is designated in the notes of invitation, (as it always should be,) the guests, of course, will take care to arrive as nearly as possible about that hour. At large parties, tea is usually omitted – it being supposed that every one has already taken that beverage at home, previous to commencing the business of the toilette. Many truly hospitable ladies still continue the custom, thinking that it makes a pleasant beginning to the evening, and exhilarates the ladies after the fatigue of dressing and arriving. So it does. For a large company, a table with tea, coffee, and cakes, may be set in the ladies-room, women being in attendance to supply the guests with those refreshments before they go down. Pitchers of ice-water and glasses should also be kept in this room.

If there is no tea, the refreshments begin with lemonade, macaroons, kisses, &c., sent round soon after the majority of the company has come. If there is tea, ice-water should be presented after it, to all; otherwise, there will be much inconvenience by numerous ladies dispatching the servants, separately, to bring them some.

After a little time allotted to conversation, music is generally introduced by one of the ladies of the family, if she plays well; otherwise, she invites a competent friend to commence. A lady who can do nothing "without her notes," or who cannot read music, and play at sight, is scarcely enough of a musician to perform in a large company – for this incapacity is an evidence that she has not a good ear, or rather a good memory for melody – or that her musical talent wants more cultivation. A large party is no time or place for practising, or for risking attempts at new things, or for vainly trying to remember old ones.

Some young ladies rarely sit down to a piano in any house but their own, without complaining that the instrument is out of tune. "It is a way they have." We have known a fair amateur to whom this complaint was habitual, and never omitted; even when we knew that, to provide against it, the piano had really been tuned that very day.

The tuning of a harp immediately before playing is sometimes a very tedious business. Would it not be well for the harpist to come a little earlier than the rest, and tune it herself previous to their arrival? And let her deem that tuning sufficient for a while, and not repeat the operation more than once again in the course of the evening, especially in the midst of her first piece. However delicate may be her own ear, or exquisitely fastidious her own taste, she may be assured that few of her audience would detect any deficiency, if she only went quietly on, and did not herself imply that deficiency.

Unless a gentleman is himself familiar with the air, let him not, on "mounting guard beside the piano," volunteer to turn over the pages for the lady who is playing. He will certainly turn them over too soon or too late, and therefore annoy and confuse her. Still worse, let him not attempt to accompany her with his voice, unless he is an excellent musician, or accustomed to singing with her.

For the hearers to crowd closely round the instrument, is smothering to the vocalist. Let them keep at a proper distance, and she will sing the better, and they will hear the better. It is so rude to talk during a song, that it is never done in company; but a little low conversation is sometimes tolerated in the adjoining room, during the performance of one of those interminable pieces of instrumental music, whose chief merit lies in its difficulty, and which (at least to the ears of the uninitiated,) is rather a bore than a pleasure. We have read a French novel, in which the only child of a farmer has just come home from a provincial boarding-school, and the seigneur, or lord of the manor, has volunteered a visit to these his respected tenants. The mother, amidst all the bustle of preparing a great dinner for the occasion, comes in to remind Annette that if the seigneur should ask her to play for him, she is to curtsey very low, and thank him for the honour. "And then, Annette," adds the good old dame, "be sure to play that tune which your father and I hate so much!"

By the bye, it is very old fashioned to return thanks to a lady for her singing, or to tell her she is very kind to oblige the company so often. If she is conscious of really singing well, and sees that she delights her hearers, she will not feel sensible of fatigue – at least till the agreeable excitement of conscious success is over.

It is ill-mannered, when a lady has just finished a song, for another lady to exclaim in her hearing – "Mary Jones sings that delightfully!" – or – "How charmingly Susan Smith gives us that ballad!" Let the glories of Mary Jones and Susan Smith rest, for that evening, within the limits of their own circle.

Do not ask any lady for a song that has already been sung on this very evening by another person.

People who have no idea of music sometimes make strange blunders in their requests. We know of a female who, at a large party, hearing a young lady accompany her voice on the national instrument of Spain, became very urgent to have the Battle of Prague performed on the guitar.

It is sometimes fashionable, when the company is not too large for what is called "a sitting party," to vary the amusements of the evening by introducing some of the numerous plays or games which are always the delight of fine children, and which, by way of variety, frequently afford much diversion to adults. It is not necessary that all these plays should become "a keen encounter of the wits," or that all the players should be persons of talent. But it is certainly desirable that the majority of the company should have some tact, and some quickness of parts; that they should have read some books, and mixed somewhat with the world – otherwise, they will not be clever even at playing plays. Those who are incapable of understanding, or entering into the spirit of a play, would do well to excuse themselves from joining in it, and prefer sitting by as spectators. Many young ladies can play nothing beyond "How do you like it?" and are not great at that – saying, when the question is put to them – "Me! I am sure I don't know how I like it – can't you pass me by?" You may as well take her at her word, pass her by, and proceed on to her next neighbour; for if she does concoct an answer, it will probably, if the word is "brush" be liked "to sweep the hearth with;" or if "Hat" is the word, it will be liked "of Beaver" – or something equally palpable.