Part 6

It is equally rude to leave before the entertainment is ended, unless the interval be chosen when nothing is going on. At a concert this is particularly true, for there are devotees of music who hang upon every note and to whom it is a distinct loss to miss a single phrase of the compositions they have come to hear.

[Sidenote: Inattention uncivil.]

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

[Sidenote: On appreciation.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Instructions to the coachman.]

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

[Sidenote: Should a hired brougham be used.]

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

[Sidenote: To obviate waiting.]

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

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

[Sidenote: A word of warning.]

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

[Sidenote: Consideration due to all women.]

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

[Sidenote: An instance.]

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

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

[Sidenote: The interval.]

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Other considerations.]

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

[Sidenote: When refreshments are brought around.]

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

[Sidenote: On unnecessary payment for programmes.]

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

_AT A BALL._

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

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

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

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

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

The truth is that society demands a never-ending series of self-denying actions from those who belong to it, and the more cheerfully these are performed, the more perfect are the manners. What can be more enjoyable than to sit in some cool retreat with a charming girl, enjoying one of those innocent flirtations that do so much to give zest to life? But delightful though it be, the temptation to prolong it must be resisted, if an expectant partner is missing her dance and waiting in the ball-room to be claimed.

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

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

[Sidenote: The value of private lessons.]

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

[Sidenote: The finishing touches.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: At a private ball.]

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

[Sidenote: The card should be filled early.]

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

[Sidenote: The “supper” dance.]

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

[Sidenote: Asking a lady to dance.]

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

[Sidenote: After the dance.]

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

[Sidenote: Seeing a lady to her carriage.]

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

_ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE._

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Proposal in person.]

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

[Sidenote: Asking the father’s permission.]

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

[Sidenote: Should the father refuse consent.]

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

[Sidenote: The engagement ring.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: A significant announcement.]

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

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

[Sidenote: When a girl takes the initiative.]

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

[Sidenote: The unhappy sequel.]

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

[Sidenote: Long engagements.]

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

[Sidenote: And unsuitable positions.]

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

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: The bridegroom’s obligations.]

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

[Sidenote: The best man.]

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

[Sidenote: The bridegroom’s dress.]

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

_DRESS._

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

[Sidenote: Importance of dress.]

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

[Sidenote: The penalty of solecisms of costume.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: “Certain fixed rules.”]

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

[Sidenote: For morning wear.]

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

[Sidenote: Light trousers.]

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

[Sidenote: Black coats.]

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

[Sidenote: The Park suit.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Brown boots.]