"Yet worldly is that heart at best,Which beats beneath a broider'd veil;And she who comes in glittering vestTo 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 adue 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 andimpressive 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."
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 theexactaddress 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 hadat 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 thenoise. 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 thebestpublic 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 inPhiladelphia,) 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 sayshermistress has gave her two grand words to say at the party.—Now, I want you to givemetwo words that shall beat Becky's; for I know you are a heap smarter thanhermistress."
"Tell me the words given by Becky's mistress," said my informant.
"Yes, ma'am.—One isDesdemona, and one isCataplasm!"
No doubt, Becky, in some way, contrived to say them both.
In engaging your presiding genius, it is well todesire 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, welllighted, 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 easilyremember 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 severalmoderateparties 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 thereistea, 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 riskingattemptsat 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 deemthattuning 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 isplaying. 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—atleast 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, woulddo 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 shedoesconcoct 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.
Such plays asThe Lawyer, andThe Secret Word, are very entertaining in good hands, but complete failures when attempted by the dull or illiterate. The amusing game of Proverbs had best be given up for that evening, if, on trial, it is found that few of the ladies have any knowledge of those true, though homely aphorisms, that have been aptly called "the concentrated wisdom of nations."
We know a very ingenious gentleman who, in playing the Secret Word, contrives to introduce that word in some very short and very humorous anecdote.
A family, on one side of European origin, made a visit to the transatlantic continent, where they found, still living in a certain great city, a relative connected with an ancient branch of nobility. This rendered them more genteel than ever—and when, covered with glory, they returned to this poor republic of ours, the names of nobles, and even of princes, with whom they had associated, were "familiar in their mouths ashousehold words." At a party where these personages were so engaged in talking, that they forgot to keep the run of the plays; a new game was commenced by a young gentleman slipping out of the room, and then returning with a very lugubrious visage, and announcing, in a melancholy tone, the death of a certain monarch, whom all the company were immediately to unite in lamenting loudly, on pain of paying forfeits unless they steadily persisted in their dismal faces. On the sad intelligence being proclaimed—"The king of Bohemia is dead!"—one of our travelled ladies mistaking it for a solemn truth, turned to her daughter with—"Ah! Caroline! did you hear that? The dear good king of Bohemia, who was so kind to us whenever we attended his court!" "Oh! mamma!" replied Caroline, putting her handkerchief to her eyes—"the news is really heart-breaking. He paid us so much attention all the time we were in ——, in his dominions. It will be long before we cease grieving for the king of Bohemia."
The gentleman who brought this deplorable news also had recourse tohishandkerchief, and slipped out into the hall to indulge his mirth; and several others slipped out after him for the same purpose. No one, however, undeceived these ladies, and for several days at their morning calls they continued to mourn for the king of Bohemia.
Conundrums[18]afford infinite diversion at a smallparty, provided the company, like Billy Black's cat, "almost always gives up." Long guessing occupies too much time; a commodity of which we Americans seldom have any to spare.
Early in the Mexican war, a premium was awarded in Philadelphia for a very clever conundrum, alluding to a certain "Bold Dragoon" at Palo Alto. "In what manner did Captain May cheat the Mexicans?" "He charged them with a troop of horse which they never got."
Our confectioners, in making up thebon bonscalled "secrets," instead of enfolding with the sugar-plumb a printed slip containing a contemptible distich, would do well to have good conundrums printed, (with the answer,) and enclosed in the ornamented papers. They would certainly be more popular than the old-fashioned mottoes—such, for instance, as
"My heart, like a candle of four to the pound,Consumes all the day, and no comfort is found."
Yet the above is one of the least bad. Most of these mottoes are so flat as to be not even ridiculous.
At a dancing party, the ladies of the house decline joining in it, out of politeness to their guests, till towards the latter part of the evening, when the company begins to thin off, and the dancers are fatigued.
We admire a charming girl, who, in her own house, being asked to dance by an agreeable man, has the self-denial to say to him—"Being at home, and desirous that my friends shall share as much as possiblein the enjoyments of the evening, I would rather refrain from dancing myself. Let me present you to Miss Lindley, or to Miss Darwood; you will find either of these young ladies a delightful partner."
These amiable refusals we have heard from our amiable and unselfish young friends, and such, we hope, are heard often in what istruly"the best society."
Ladies who are strangers in the place, are, by courtesy, entitled to particular attention from those who know them.
We have sometimes seen, at a private ball, the least attractive woman dancing every set, (though acquitting herself very ill,) while handsome and agreeable ladies were sitting still. The mystery was solved on finding that the lady of the house carried her ultra benevolence so very far, as to make a business of procuring partners all the time for this unlovely and unprepossessing female, lest she should feel neglected. Now a certain portion of this officiousness is highly praiseworthy, but too much of it is a great annoyance to the victimized gentlemen—especially to those who, as a backwoodsman would say, are certainly "some pumpkins."
Even the most humane man, whatever may be the kindness of his heart, would rather not exhibit himself on the floor with a partnerni jeune ni jolie, who is ill-dressed, looks badly, moves ungracefully, can neither keep time to the music nor understand the figure, and in fact has "no dancing in her soul." If, with all the rest, she is dull and stupid, it is cruel for any kindfriend to inflict her on a gentleman as a partner. Yet such things we have seen.
On one occasion we threw away a great deal of good pity on a youth, whom we thought had been inveigled into quadrilling with a lady who made the worst figure we ever saw in a ball-room. We afterwards learned that he had actually solicited the introduction; and we saw that he devoted himself to her all the remainder of the evening. She was a rich heiress.
Self-knowledge is a rare acquirement. But when a ladydoessuspect herself to be deficient in all the essential qualifications of a ball-room, she should give up dancing entirely, and be magnanimous enough always to excuse herself positively, when asked to dance; especially if verging on "a certain age." Let all "trippings on the light fantastic toe" be left to the young and gay.
A deformed woman dancing is "a sorry sight." She should never consent to any such exhibition of her unhappy figure. She will only be asked out of mere compassion, or from some interested and unworthy motive. We are asked—"Why should not such a lady dance, if it gives her pleasure?" We answer—"It shouldnotgive her pleasure."
When a lady is so unfortunate as to have a crooked, or misshapen person, it is well for her to conceal it as much as possible, by wearing a shawl, a large cape, a mantilla, a long sacque, (not a polka jacket;) and on no account a tight-bodied pelisse; or still worse, a spencer—than which last, nothing is more trying to the form of the waist, except a riding-habit.
We saw Frederika Bremer at an evening assemblage, and she was so judiciously attired, that her personal defects did not prevent her from looking really well. Over a rich black satin dress, she wore a long loose sacque of black lace, lined with grey silk. From beneath the short sleeves of her sacque, came down long wide sleeves of white lace, confined with bracelets round her fair and delicate little hands. Her throat was covered closely with a handsome collar of French embroidered muslin, and her beautiful and becoming cap was of white lace, white flowers, and white satin ribbon—her light hair being simply parted on her broad and intellectual forehead. With her lively blue eyes, and the bright and pleasant expression of her countenance, no one seemed to notice the faults of her nose, mouth, and complexion—and those of her figure were so well concealed as to be scarcely apparent. And then her lady-like ease, and the total absence of all affectation, rendered her graceful and prepossessing. True it is, that with a good heart and a good mind no woman can be ugly; at least, they soon cease to be so considered, even if nature has been unkind to them in feature, figure, and complexion. An intelligent eye, and a good humoured mouth, are excellent substitutes for the want of regular beauty. Physiognomists say that the eye denotes the mind, and the mouth indicates the heart.
Now as a deformed lady may render herself very agreeable as a good conversationist, we repeat that she has no occasion to exhibit the defects of her person by treading the mazes of a cotillion, or above all, ingoing down a country dance, should those "never-ending, still beginning" performances come again into fashion. Young men say that an ugly, misshapen female, who waltzes, or joins in a polka, or redowa, or mazurka, deserves the penitentiary.
We deprecate the practice of keeping the small children of the family up all the evening, running and scampering in every one's way, or sleeping about on the chairs and sofas, and crying when wakened up to be carried to bed. Would it not be much better to have them sent to bed at their usual time? We knew two well-trained little boys, who submitted obediently to go to bed at their customary hour, on the night of their mother's party, of which they had seen nothing but the decorations of the parlours. They told their parents next morning, that still they had a great deal of pleasure, for after the carriages began to arrive, they had lain awake and "heard every ring."
At a large party, or at a wedding, there is generally a supper table; lemonade and cakes having been sent round during the evening. The host and hostess should see thatallthe ladies are conducted thither, and that none are neglected, particularly those that are timid, and stand back. It is the business of the host to attend to those himself, or to send the waiters to them.
If the party is so large that all the ladies cannot go to the table at once, let the matrons be conducted thither first, and the young ladies afterwards. If there is a crowd, it is not unusual to have a cord (a handsomeone, of course,) stretched across the door of the supper-room, and guarded by a servant, who explains that no more are to pass till after that cord is taken down. Meanwhile, the younger part of the company amuse themselves in the adjacent rooms. No lady should take the liberty of meddling with the flowers that ornament the table, or of secreting "good things" to carry home to her children.
Apropos to flowers.—The stiff, hard bouquets are now obsolete, where the flowers (stripped of their natural green leaves,) were tieden masseon a wooden skewer, against a flat back-ground of cedar sprays. The more elegant arrangement is revived of arranging them in a full round cluster, with a fair portion of their real leaves; the largest and finest flowers in the centre, (large white ones particularly); those of middle size next; and the light, long, and branchy sprays and tendrils at the extremities, the smallest near the bottom of the bouquet, which is not so large and massy as formerly, but more graceful and select. The bouquet may be carried on the young lady's arm, suspended to a long and handsome white ribbon tied in a bow—acolouredribbon will disturb the effect of the flowers. There should be nothing to interfere with their various and beautiful tints.
At a ball, let nocolouredchalks or crayons be used for the floor. They will rub off on the white shoes of the ladies, and spoil them.
When, instead ofsettinga supper-table, refreshments are handed round to the ladies, the fashion has long since gone by of a gentleman walking beside eachwaiter, and "assisting the ladies." It is now found that if the articles are properly arranged, and of the proper sort, the ladies can much more conveniently help themselves, and with less risk of staining or greasing their dresses. Unless the gentleman was "a thorough-going party-man," and stereotyped as such, he often committed rather vexatious blunders, particularly if he was notau-courantto the new improvements, and accustomed to being "at good men's feasts;" or rather, atwomen's good feasts. One evening at a party, we saw an "ingenuous youth," whose experience in that line must have been rather limited, officiously undertake the portioning out to the ladies of a composition hitherto quite new to himself. This was "a trifle," being the contents of a very large glass bowl, filled with macaroons, &c., dissolved in wine, &c., with profuse layers of custard, sweetmeats, &c., and covered in at the top with a dome of whipt cream heaped high and thick over the whole. The pea-green youth assisted the ladies to nothing but saucers of froth from the top, thinking that was the right way. At last, the mulatto man, whose superior tact must have been all this time in a state of suffering, explained to the novice in trifles, that a portion of all the various contents of the glass bowl should be allotted to each saucer. "That!" said the surprised doer of honours, "I thought all that was only the grounds!" The coloured man relieved him by taking the silver server round a second time to all the ladies, who had hitherto missed the sediment of the syllabub.
At a summer evening party, the refreshments areof a much lighter description than at a winter entertainment; consisting chiefly of ice-creams, water-ices, fresh fruit, lady-cake, and almond sponge-cake. Also strawberry or raspberry charlottes, which are made by arranging in glass bowls slices of cake cut in even and regular forms, and spread thickly over with the fruit mashed to a jam with white sugar—the bowls being heaped with whipt cream.
The dresses of the ladies are of clear muslin, or some other light material, and without any elaborate trimming. The hair is simply arranged—curls being inconvenient in warm weather; and the only head ornaments are ribbons, orrealflowers.
At summer evening-parties the veranda is always put into requisition, being cooler than any part of the house.
At summer dinner-parties, let the dessert be served in another and cooler apartment; the company quitting the dining-room as soon as they have done with the meats, &c. The beauties of the dessert appear to greater advantage, when seen all at one view on a fresh table.
We will introduce a minute account of a very fashionable English dinner-party, obtained from a friend who was one of the guests. It may afford some hints for the routine of an elegant entertainment,à l'Anglais, in our own country.
The guests were twenty-four in number, and they began to assemble at half past seven, punctually. They were received in the library, where the host and hostess were standing ready to receive them, introducingthose who were strangers to each other. When all had arrived, the butler entered, and going up to the lady of the house, told her in a low voice that "dinner was served." The hostess then arranged those that were not previously acquainted, and the gentlemen conducted the ladies to the dining-room; the principal stranger taking the mistress of the house, and the master giving his arm to the chief of the female guests. In England, these arrangements are made according to the rank of the ladies—that of the gentlemen is not considered. A duchess takes precedence of a marchioness, a viscountess of a countess, a baroness of a baronet's lady, &c.,—for a baron is above a baronet. Going into the dining-room, the company passed by the butler and eight footmen, all of whom were stationed in two rows. The butler was dressed entirely in black—the footmen in their livery. According to a new fashion, they may now wear long gaiters. White kid gloves are indispensable to the footmen.
The table was set for twenty-six—and standing on it were elegant gilt candelabras.Allthe lights were wax candles. Chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling. In the middle of the table was a magnificent plateau, or centre ornament of gold; flowers surmounted the summit; and the circular stages below were covered with confectionery elegantly arranged. On each side of the plateau, and above and below, were tall china fruit-baskets. In the centre of each basket were immense pine-apples of hot-house growth, with their fresh green leaves. Below the pine-apples were largebunches of purple and white hot-house grapes, beautifully disposed, with leaves and tendrils hanging over the sides of the baskets. Down each side of the whole long table, were placed large, round, saucer-shaped fruit-dishes, heaped up with peaches, nectarines, pears, plumbs, ripe gooseberries, cherries, currants, strawberries, &c. All the fruits not in season were supplied from hot-houses. And alternating with the fruit were all theentremetsin covered dishes, placed on long slips of damask the whole length of the table. All the plate was superb. The dinner-set was of French china, gilt, and painted with roses. At every plate was a caraffe of water, with a tumbler turned down over it, and several wine-glasses. The napkins were large. The side-board held only the show-silver and the wine. The side-tables were covered with elegant damask cloths. On these were ranged, laid along in numerous rows, the knives, forks, and spoons to be used at dinner. The dessert-spoons were in the form of hollow leaves, the stems being the handles. They were beautifully engraved in tasteful patterns. The fruit-knives had silver blades and pearl handles. There were two soups (white and brown,) standing on a side-table. Each servant handed the things in his white kid gloves, and with a damask napkin under his thumb. They offered (mentioning its name in a low voice,) a plate of each soup to each guest. After the soup, Hock and Moselle wine were offered to each guest, that they might choose either. A dish of fish was then placed at each end of the table—one was salmon, the other turbot. These dishes were immediatelytaken off to be helped by the servants, both sorts of fish being offered to each person. Then the appropriate sauce for the fish—also cucumbers to eat with the salmon. No castors were on the large table, but they were handed round by the servants. Directly after the fish came theentremets, or French dishes. The wine following the fish was Madeira and Sherry.
Afterwards, a saddle or haunch of Welsh mutton was placed at the master's end of the table, and at the lady's end a boiled turkey. These dishes being removed to the side-tables, very thin slices of each were handed round. The poultry was not dissected—nothing being helped but the breast. Ham and tongue was then supplied to those who took poultry; and currant-jelly to the eaters of mutton. Next came the vegetables, handed round on dishes divided into four compartments, each division containing a different sort of vegetable.
Next, two dishes of game were put on—one before the master of the house, and the other before the mistress. The game (which was perfectly well-done,) was helped by them, and sent round with the appropriate sauce. Then, placed along the table, were the sweet things—charlottes, jellies, frozen fruit, &c. A lobster salad, dressed and cut up large, was put on with the sweets. On a side-table were stilton and cream cheese, to be eaten with the salad. After this, port wine—the champagne being early in the dinner. Next the sweets were handed round. With the sweets were frozen fruits—fruits cut up, and frozen with isinglass-jelly, (red, in moulds.)
Next, a dessert plate was given to each guest, and on it a ground glass plate, about the size of a saucer. Between these plates was a crochet-worked white doyly, of the size of the under-plate; the crochet-work done with thread, so as to resemble lace. These doylies were laid under the ground-glass plate, to deaden the noise of their collision. Then was brought from the side-table a ground-glass plate of ice-cream, or water-ice, which you took in exchange for that before you. The water-ice was frozen in moulds, in the form of fruit, and suitably coloured. The baskets containing the fruit were then removed to the side-tables, where the servants had silver scissors, with which they clipped off small bunches of the grapes, and the green tops of the pine-apples, and a portion of the flesh of the fruit. The middle part was then pared and sliced. On each dessert-plate was placed a slice of pine-apple, and small bunches of white and blue grapes. After the grapes and pine-apples were thus handed round, the dishes of the other fruits were then offered successively to every guest. After the ground-glass and doylies, there was no farther change of plates.
After sitting a while over the fruit, the lady of the house gives the signal, by looking and bowing to the ladies on each side, and the ladies at this signal prepare to retire. The gentlemen all rise, and remain standing while the ladies depart—the master of the house holding the door open. The servants then all retire, except the butler, who remains to wait on the gentlemen, while they linger awhile (not more than a quarter of an hour,) over the fruit and wine.
It may be well to caution our young friends against certain bad practices, easily contracted, but sometimes difficult to relinquish. The following are things not to be done:—Biting your nails. Slipping a ring up and down your finger. Sitting cross-kneed, and, jogging your feet. Drumming on the table with your knuckles; or, still worse, tinking on a piano withyour fore-finger only. Humming a tune before strangers. Singing as you go up and down stairs. Putting your arm round the neck of another young girl, or promenading the room with arms encircling waists. Holding the hand of a friend all the time she sits beside you; or kissing and fondling her before company. Sitting too closely.
Slapping a gentleman with your handkerchief, or tapping him with your fan. Allowing him to take a ring off your finger, to look at it. Permitting him to unclasp your bracelet, or, still worse, to inspect your brooch. When these ornaments are to be shown to another person, always take them off for the purpose. Pulling at your own ringlets, or your own ear-rings—or fingering your neck ribbon. Suffering a gentlemanto touch your curls. Reading with a gentleman off the same book or newspaper. Looking over the shoulder of any person who is reading or writing. Taking up awrittenpaper from the table, and examining it.
To listen at door-cracks, and peep through key-holes, is vulgar and contemptible. So it is to ask children questions concerning their parents, though such things are still done.
If you mean that you were angry, do not say you were "mad."—"It made me so mad"—"I was quite mad at her," are phrases not to be used by people considering themselves genteel. Anger and madness are not the same, or should not be; though it is true that ungoverned rage, is, sometimes, carried so far as to seem like insanity.
Enter into no freaks of fashion that are silly, unmeaning, and unlady-like; even if theyhavebeen introduced by a belle, and followed by other belles. Commit no absurdity because a public singer or dancer has done so in her ignorance of good behaviour. During the Jenny Lind fever, there were young ladies who affected to skuttle into a drawing-room all of a sudden, somewhat as the fair Swede came skuttling in upon the concert stage, because in reality she knew not how to make her entrance gracefully. Other demoiselles twined and waved about, with body, head, and eyes, never a moment quiet. This squirming (as it was called) originated in a very bad imitation of Fanny Elssler's dancing motions. At one time there were girls at parties, who stood onone foot, and with the other kicked up their dresses behind, while talking to gentlemen. This fashion began with a celebrated beauty who "dared do any thing." Luckily, these "whims and oddities" are always of short duration, and are never adopted by young ladies of good taste and refinement.
Do not nod your head, or beat time with fan or foot while listening to music.
Never at a party consent to accompany another lady in a duet, unless you are accustomed to singing with her. Still worse—do not volunteer to "assist" her in a song that is not a duet. Each voice will interrupt and spoil the other. A lady who sings by ear only, cannot accompany one that sings by note.
One of the most horrible sounds imaginable is that produced by several fine voices all singing different songs. This cats' concert (as school-girls call it) results in a shocking and yet ludicrous discord, equally frightful and laughable. And yet all the performers are singing individually well. Try it.
Raising a window-sash, in cold weather, without first ascertaining if the rest of the company are, like yourself, too warm. Leaving the parlour door open in winter—a perpetual occurrence at hotels and boarding-houses.
Talking so loudly that you can be heard all over the room. Or so low that you cannot be heard at all, even by those who are conversing with you. This last fault is the worst. To talk with one who has a habit of muttering unintelligibly, is like trying to read a letter illegibly written.
Using too often the word "madam" or "ma'am," which in fact, is now nearly obsolete in familiar conversation. In the old French tragedies the lovers addressed their mistresses as "madam." But then the stage Alexander wore a powdered wig, and a laced coat, knee-breeches, and a long-skirted waistcoat; and Roxana figured in a hoop-petticoat, a brocade gown, a flowered apron, and a towering gauze cap. The frequent use of "sir" is also out of fashion. "Yes, ma'am," "No, ma'am," "Yes, sir," "No, sir," no longer sounds well, except from children to their elders. If you have not distinctly heard what another lady has just said to you, do not denote it by saying, "Ma'am?" but remark to her, "Excuse me, I did not exactly hear you!"
Never, in a public parlour, place yourself in a position where you can secretly hear conversation that is not intended for you—for instance in a corner behind a pillar. If you hear yourself talked of, it is mean to stay and listen. It is a true adage that "Listeners seldom hear any good of themselves."
However smart and witty you may be considered, do not exercise your wit in rallying and bantering your friends. If you do so, their friendship will soon be worn out, or converted into positive enmity. A jest that carries a sting with it can never give a pleasant sensation to the object. The bite of a musquito is a very little thing, but it leaves pain and inflammation behind it, and the more it is rubbed the longer it rankles in the blood. No one likes to have their foibles or mishaps turned into ridicule—beforeother persons especially. And few can cordially join in a laugh that is raised against themselves.
The slightest jest on the personal defects of those you are conversing with, is an enormity of rudeness and vulgarity. It is, in fact, a sneer at the Creator that made them so. No human creature is accountable for being too small, or too large; for an ill-formed figure, or for ill-shaped limbs; for irregular features, or a bad complexion.
Still worse, to rally any person (especially a woman) on her age, or to ask indirect questions with a view of discovering what her age really is. If we continue to live, we must continue to grow old. We must either advance in age, or we must die. Where then is the shame of surviving our youth? And when youth departs, beauty goes along with it. At least as much beauty as depends on complexion, hair, and teeth. In arriving at middle age, (or a little beyond it,) a lady must compound for the loss of either face or figure. About that period she generally becomes thinner, or fatter. If thin, her features shrink, and her skin shrivels and fades; even though she retains a slender and perhaps a girlish form. If she grows fat, her skin may continue smooth, and her complexion fine, and her neck and arms may be rounder and handsomer than in girlhood; but then symmetry of shape will cease—and she must reconcile herself to the change as best she can. But a woman with a good mind, a good heart, and a good temper, can never at any age grow ugly—for an intelligent and pleasant expression is in itself beauty, and the best sort of beauty.
Sad indeed is the condition of women in the decline of life when "No lights of age adorn them." When, having neglected in the spring and summer to lay up any stores for the winter that is sure to come, they find themselves left in the season of desolation with nothing to fall back upon—no pleasant recollections of the acquisition of knowledge or the performance of good deeds, and nothing to talk about but the idle gossip of the day—striving painfully to look younger than they really are; still haunting balls and parties, and enduring all the discomforts of crowded watering-places, long after all pleasure in such scenes must have passed away. But then they must linger in public because they are miserable at home, having no resources within themselves, and few enduring friends to enliven them with their society.
The woman that knows how to grow old gracefully, will adapt her dress to her figure and her age, and wear colours that suit her present complexion. If her neck and arms are thin, she will not expose them under any circumstances. If her hair is grey, she will not decorate it with flowers and flimsy ribbons. If her cheeks are hollow, she will not make her face look still longer and thinner by shadowing it with long ringlets; and setting her head-dress far back—but she will give it as much softness as she can, by a light cap-border tied under her chin. She will not squeeze herself out of all human shape by affecting a long tightcorsage; and she will wear no dresses glaring with huge flowers, or loaded with gaudy trimmings. She will allude to her age as a thing of course; shewill speak without hesitation of former times, though the recollection proves her to be really old. She will be kind and indulgent to the young; and the young will respect and love her, and gladly assemble near her chair, and be amused and unconsciously instructed. As long as she lives and retains her faculties she will endeavour to improve, and to become still a wiser and a better woman; never excusing herself by indolently and obstinately averring that "she is too old to learn," or that she cannot give up her old-fashioned habits. If she finds that those habits are unwarrantable, or that they are annoying to her friends, she ought to relinquish them. No one with a mind unimpaired, and a heart still fresh, is too old to learn.
This book is addressed chiefly to the young; but we shall be much gratified by finding that even old ladies have found in it some advantageous suggestions on points that had hitherto escaped their notice.