The Ladies' Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners Part 6

This is against the law, but notwithstanding, is often done, and the lady who has first engaged the coach, is liable to have for her riding-companions persons of improper character and vulgar appearance, and to be carried with them to their places in remote parts of the city, before she is conveyed to her own home. Previous to getting in, take the number of the coach, by writing it on a card with your pencil, and make your bargain with him as to the charge for conveying you and your baggage.

It would be well if the imposition and insolence of hack-drivers were _always_ followed with the punishments provided by law. Ladies are naturally unwilling to appear at a magistrate's office. But it is the duty of every gentleman, as a good citizen, to see that the munic.i.p.al regulations are never violated with impunity.

All trouble may be avoided on arriving, by sending for the captain of the boat, and requesting him to see you on sh.o.r.e, or to depute his clerk to that office.

In arriving at a rail-road depot, be careful not to quit the cars till after they have positively stopped quite still. The time gained is but an instant, and the risk is very imminent of serious injury by falling, should your ankle twist in stepping out while there is the least motion.

On arriving at a hotel, ask immediately to see the proprietor; give him your name and address, tell how long you purpose staying, and request him to see that you are provided with a good room. Request him also to conduct you to the dining-room at dinner-time, and allot you a seat near his own. For this purpose, he will wait for you near the door, (do not _keep him waiting_,) or meet you in the ladies' drawing-room. While at table, if the proprietor or any other gentleman asks you to take wine with him, politely refuse.

If, on arriving at the wharf, you expect a gentleman to meet you, take a seat either on deck near the cabin-door, or just inside of the door, so that he may find you easily.

If you are to pursue your journey early in the morning, desire, over-night, the waiter who attends your room, to knock hard at your door an hour before the time of starting. Before you go down-stairs, ask for the chambermaid who has attended you, and give her a fee, (not less than a quarter-dollar,) putting it into her own hand yourself, and not commissioning another to convey it to her. Do not omit giving a quarter-dollar at least, to the waiter who attended your room, and one also to him who has served you at table.

Refrain from making acquaintance with any strangers, unless you are certain of their respectability. If a gentleman of whom you know nothing, endeavours to get into conversation with you, turn away, and make no reply. Avoid saying any thing to women in showy attire, with painted faces, and white kid gloves. Such persons have frequently the a.s.surance to try to be very sociable with respectable ladies who are travelling alone. Keep aloof from them always.

If you have breakfasted early, it will be well to put some gingerbread-nuts or biscuits into your satchel, as you may become very hungry before dinner.

Carry but little money in your pocket--not more than will suffice for the expenses of the day. But for travelling, have another pocket, concealed _beneath_ your upper petticoat, and _in that_ keep the main portion of your cash. Be cautious of taking bank-notes in change--they may be such as you cannot pa.s.s. If they are offered to you, refuse them, and insist upon gold or silver.

Travelling in America, ladies frequently meet with little civilities from gentlemen, so delicately offered, that to refuse them would be rude. These incidental acts of politeness should always be acknowledged with thanks; but they should not be construed into a desire of commencing an acquaintance. If a lady obliged to travel alone, wishes to be treated with respect, her own deportment must in all things be quiet, modest and retiring.

If you have a servant with you, see that she gets her meals, and has a comfortable sleeping-place, or in all probability she will be neglected and overlooked. In a steamboat or a hotel, speak yourself to the head-waiter, and desire him to take her to the servants' table and attend to her; and tell the chambermaid to see her provided with a bed.

If their lady forgets to look out for them, coloured women in particular have often no courage to look out for themselves.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] In a former work of the author's, _The House Book_, published by A.

Hart, Philadelphia, will be found ample directions for packing trunks, &c.

CHAPTER X.

DEPORTMENT AT A HOTEL, OR AT A LARGE BOARDING-HOUSE.

Now that there is so much travelling in the summer, (and indeed at all seasons,) and so much living in public, to save the trouble and the expense of keeping house in private, it may be well to offer some hints on the propriety of manners that ought to be observed in places where you are always exposed to the inspection and to the remarks of strangers. These strangers, knowing you but slightly, or not at all, will naturally draw their inferences for or against you from what they see before their eyes; concluding that you are genteel or ungenteel, patrician or plebeian, according to the coa.r.s.eness or the polish of your manners.

Yet strange to say, there are persons who indulge themselves in astounding acts of rudeness, from the supposition that a hotel is only a tavern, a sort of Liberty Hall, where every one has a right to "take their ease in their inn," if they pay for it. Have they no respect for themselves?

It is usual for members of the same party to meet in the ladies'

drawing-room before they go in to breakfast, unless the party is large; and then it is not expected that half a dozen persons should be kept waiting for one or two late risers, or tardy dressers. When two or three of the party find themselves ready in the parlour, it will be best for them to proceed to the eating-room, and leave the others to follow at their convenience, by twos or by threes,--always seeing that a young lady, if a stranger, is not left to go in alone. Strangers at hotels can have no particular seats at breakfast and tea, as at these two repasts, they always come to table by instalments, and at no regular time. If a large party enters all at once and they are _determined_ to sit all together, they may occasion much inconvenience to persons already seated, or to the regular boarders, who have their allotted seats.

Neither is there any necessity or advantage in six, eight, or ten people, who travel as one party, resolving to establish themselves at a hotel-table all side by side, in a row; particularly when it causes inconvenience to others. Certainly not more than three or four persons ranged in a line can join in the same conversation, or attend to the wants of their friends. Why then should they make any extraordinary point of occupying chairs next to each other. It would be better to divide their forces; and if they can, for half to sit on one side of the table, and the other half directly opposite. Or they will find that if the table is full, and they have to disperse still more widely, they had best do so with a good grace, rather than make any disturbance on the subject. When they quit the table to return to the drawing-room they may be very sure of all meeting again near the door.

Nine o'clock (or half-past) is the latest hour that any guest at a hotel should come to breakfast; and few _Americans_ have so little consideration as to detain the table and the servants till ten or eleven.[9] At a boarding-house, the guests are very soon made to understand that if they are late risers, they need expect nothing but the cold leavings of the breakfast. At a hotel they find more indulgence. You there choose from the bill of fare such dishes as you may prefer, and they will be brought to you, after you have been supplied with tea or coffee, and bread and b.u.t.ter to begin with. To each person is allowed a separate dish or plate of the articles selected; and it is understood to be for yourself alone, and that no other person has a right to partake of it, or to meddle with it in any way. Yet even from your own dish, never help yourself with the knife and fork or spoon you are eating with; but always use a spare one, with which the waiter will furnish you. Do not eat different sorts of relishes off the same plate.

At a hotel there is no scarcity of plates, or of servants to change them. Always take b.u.t.ter with the b.u.t.ter-knife, and then do not forget to return that knife to the b.u.t.ter-plate. Carefully avoid cutting bread with your own knife, or taking salt with it from the salt-cellar. It looks as if you had not been accustomed to b.u.t.ter-knives and salt-spoons.

Ladies no longer eat salt-fish at a public-table. The odour of it is now considered extremely ungenteel, and it is always very disagreeable to those who _do not_ eat it. If you breakfast alone, you can then indulge in it.

Speak to the waiter in a distinct, but not in too loud a voice, and always civilly. Thank him for any little extra attention he may show you. If you do not like what he has brought you, or find that you cannot eat it, make your objection in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the neighbouring guests; and quietly desire him to bring you something else.

It is usual at a hotel-table for each waiter to have charge of three or four persons, and to attend to _their_ wants exclusively. If you are a stranger, ask the waiter his name when he first comes to you; and unless he is not at hand, and you see another standing idle, do not call on any one else to attend you.

If the servants are coloured men, refrain from all conversation in their presence that may grate harshly on their feelings, by reminding them of their unfortunate African blood. Do not talk of them as "negroes,"[10]

or "darkies." Avoid all discussions of abolition, (either for or against,) when coloured people are by. Also, quote none of their laughable sayings while they are present.

When the domestics are Irish, and you have occasion to reprove them for their negligence, forgetfulness, or blunders, do so without any reference to their country. If you find one who is disrespectful or insolent, or who persists in a.s.serting a falsehood, it is safest to make no reply yourself, but to have the matter represented to the proprietor of the house; desiring that another waiter may be allotted to you.

It is ungenteel to go to the breakfast-table in any costume approaching to full dress. There must be no flowers or ribbons in the hair. A morning-cap should be as simple as possible. The most genteel morning-dress is a close gown of some plain material, with long sleeves, which in summer may be white muslin. A merino or cashmere wrapper, (grey, brown, purple, or olive,) faced or trimmed with other merino of an entirely different colour, such as crimson, scarlet, green, or blue, is a becoming morning dress for winter. In summer, a white cambric-muslin morning-robe is the handsomest breakfast attire, but one of gingham or printed muslin the most convenient. The coloured dress may be made open in front, with short loose sleeves and a pointed body.

Beneath it a white under-dress, having a chemisette front down to the belt, and long white sleeves down to the wrist. This forms a very graceful morning costume, the white skirt appearing where the coloured skirt opens.

The fashion of wearing black silk mittens at breakfast is now obsolete.

It was always inconvenient, and neither useful nor ornamental.

After breakfast, it is customary for the ladies to adjourn to the drawing-room, where they converse, or read the papers, or receive early visiters, while the chambermaids are putting the bed-chambers in order.

Some who are not accustomed to hotels, go immediately from the breakfast-table to their own apartment, sitting there among the flue and dust during the whole process of bed-making and room-sweeping; afraid to trust the chambermaid alone, lest she should steal something. This is absurd. They should know that the chambermaids (being all considered honest and responsible) are furnished with duplicate keys, by which they can at any time unlock the chamber-doors, and let themselves in, when the occupant is absent. Also, this palpable suspicion of their honesty is an insult to the girls, and is always felt as such. It is sufficient to lock the bureau, the wardrobe, and your trunks. When you go out, (that is, out of the house,) _then_ lock the door of your room, lest some one pa.s.sing by, should have curiosity to stroll in and look about, and meddle with what they see there.

Should you perceive that the dress of another lady is, by some accident, out of order--for instance, that a hook or a b.u.t.ton has become unfastened; or that a string is visibly hanging out; a collar unpinned, and falling off; the corner of a shawl dragging along the floor; a skirt caught up; or a sleeve slipping down, immediately have the kindness to apprize her of it in a low voice, and a.s.sist her in repairing the mischance; and, if necessary, leave the room with her for that purpose.

We have seen a lady who, finding that a cl.u.s.ter of her false curls was coming down, had the courage to say so to a gentleman with whom she was conversing at a party. And going openly, and at once, to the nearest mirror, she calmly adjusted her borrowed locks, and returned to her seat with a good grace. Consequently, n.o.body laughed at the untoward accident; as might perhaps have been the case, had she seemed excessively confused and mortified, and awkwardly tried to hold on her curls till she got out of the room.

If you do not wish to be enc.u.mbered by carrying the key in your pocket, let it be left during your absence, with the clerk in the office, or with the barkeeper; and send to him for it on your return. Desire the servant who attends the door to show no person up to your room during your absence. If visiters wish to wait for your return, it is best they should do so in the parlour.

In going in and out, be careful to shut the parlour-doors after you, except in summer. Young ladies are often very inconsiderate in this respect, and cause much inconvenience, in cold weather, to those who do not like to sit with a draught of keen air blowing upon them. Even if you feel too warm yourself, it is rude to throw open a door, (much more to raise a window-sash,) without first enquiring if other ladies have no objection.

There is no impropriety in a lady commencing conversation with a stranger of genteel appearance. You can easily take occasion to mention your own name, and then, in return, she will communicate hers. But, unless you are previously certain of her respectability, have little to say to a woman who is travelling without a companion, and whose face is painted, who wears a profusion of long curls about her neck, who has a meretricious expression of eye, and who is over-dressed. It is safest to avoid her. Also, you will derive no pleasure or advantage from making acquaintance with females who are evidently coa.r.s.e and vulgar, even if you know that they are rich, live in a large house, and are of respectable character. Young girls who are loud, noisy, bold, and forward, (however fashionable they may be,) it is best also to avoid.

They will not want your society, as they are generally all the time surrounded by "beaux," or else rattling over the keys of the piano.

In a public parlour, it is selfish and unmannerly to sit down to the instrument uninvited, and fall to playing or practising, without seeming to consider the probability of your interrupting or annoying the rest of the company, particularly when you see them all engaged in reading or in conversation. If you want amus.e.m.e.nt, you had better read, or occupy yourself with some light sewing or knitting-work.

If you have no book, you can ring the bell, and send to the reading-room to borrow a file of newspapers; but in most hotels, there are books belonging to the establishment, lying on a table in the ladies' parlour.

Be sure not to carry any of these books up-stairs, as they are intended solely for the drawing-room; and their removal from thence is interdicted. Also, never carry away the Directory, the Atlas, the City Guide, or any other book placed there for the convenience of strangers.

If you want pen and ink, or any sort of stationery, you can obtain it immediately, by ringing for a servant to bring it you from the office.

In ringing the bell, one pull is sufficient; and always pull the cord _downward_. If you jerk it out horizontally, and give successively several hard pulls in that direction, the cord is very likely to break, or the k.n.o.b or ta.s.sel to come off in your hand. At the chief hotel in one of the New England cities, we saw a printed paper with directions in large type, pasted beside _every bell-pull in the house_; the directions specifying minutely the proper mode of bell-ringing. Could it be that this house was frequented by persons unaccustomed to bells?

To return to the too-prevalent evil of uninvited and ill-timed piano-playing, (much of which does not deserve the name of music,) we have always been at a loss to understand how a young stranger, (modest and un.o.btrusive in other things,) could walk up to the instrument, sometimes almost as soon as she arrives, and rattle "fast and furious"

over the keys, drowning the voices of ladies and gentlemen who were talking, and therefore compelling them to cease their conversation; or if they pursued it, obliging them to raise their tone painfully; or to lose more than half, from the impossibility of hearing each other distinctly. To read when piano-playing is going on, is to most persons impossible. There are few readers who cannot so concentrate their attention on their book, as not to be disturbed by any _talking_ that may occur in their vicinity; and if talking _does_ withdraw their attention from the book, it is best that they should read only when alone in their apartment. But we have met with no one who could read in the neighbourhood of a played piano.

If the music is really very good, and accompanied by a fine voice, it is true that most readers will willingly close the book to listen. But if the playing is barely tolerable, or decidedly bad, and if the singing is weak and insipid, or harsh and screaming, or timeless and tasteless, who can possibly wish to hear it; except perhaps a doating father, or an injudicious mother, vain of her daughter because she is _hers_, and so anxious to show her off, that she encourages the girl to display even her deficiencies.

We believe that our beloved America is not yet the land of music; and that (with many exceptions) her children are generally not furnished with much capacity for it. If there was a true feeling for music, there would be more genius for that charming art, and there would be more composers of original airs, the number of which, in our country, is smaller than in any civilized nation in the world. It is true we have many excellent musicians, and many very good singers, but still, music is not the grand forte of Jonathan. Pity it were,--for he has "a n.o.bler and a manlier one."

Now as "there is a time for all things," we persist in saying that the time and place for school-girls to hear their own music, or to prove that it is not worth hearing, is not in the drawing-room of a hotel, or in the presence of a company that can have no desire to hear them. What would be thought of a young lady, who in a public room, should suddenly come forward and "speak a speech;" or suddenly rise up, and commence, "loud and high," a reading of poetry, or recite a French fable, or repeat the multiplication table, or favour the company with a spontaneous _pas seul_. And yet we do not perceive that any of these feats would be a much greater evidence of deficiency in diffidence, (to call it by no bolder name,) than the practice of rattling, uninvited and unseasonably, over the keys of a piano. A really good musician is rarely obtrusive with her music, seldom playing unless she is asked; and then, of course, complying at once.[11]

We repeat that no lady should play or sing in company, unless she knows herself to be universally considered a good singer or player, and capable of something more than the mere series of lessons she has learnt from her music teacher. Also, some punishment should be devised for a young girl who cannot play, yet has the folly and a.s.surance to seat herself at the piano of a public parlour, and annoy the company by an hour of tinking and tanking with one finger only. Yet this we have seen; and her mother present all the time.

The gratuitous exhibition of bad music is said by Europeans to be one of the peculiar characteristics of American young ladies. Let them then "reform it altogether."