The Regency Library

CHAPTER III.

Etiquette of Good Society

ETIQUETTE AND SOCIAL OBSERVANCES.

Origin of the word "Etiquette"—The Distinguishing Mark of Good Manners—Against Extreme Ceremony, Excessive Apologising, and Affectation—The Laws of Introduction —Les Attentions paid by Gentlemen to a Lady—The different Modes of Bowing and Shaking the Hand—The Walk—Carriage—Conversation—Voice—Laughter—Inaccuracies of Speech----Laws of Precedency.

"I am the very pink of courtesy." Shakespeare.

"Those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies, that daily flow From all her words and actions."

Milton.

CENTURIES ago, the word "etiquette" conveyed to those who used it a far different signification than to us of the present day. The word—an Anglo-Norman one—originally specified the ticket tied to the necks of bags or affixed to bundles to denote their contents. A bag or bundle thus ticketed passed unchallenged.

            Our ancestors, as we have seen, had their codes of manners. The chief rules of these forms of behaviour were written or printed upon cards or tickets, and thus the word "etiquette" gradually came to mean what we understand by it. Hence the modern slang phrase, "the ticket," is not so meaningless as it would seem to be.

            Before beginning with the specialities of etiquette, let me remark that the first and great characteristic of what is called good-breeding is perfect ease of manner, and the absence of all fussiness. Whatever the company we may be thrown into, whatever the circumstances, this quiet ease should never be allowed to forsake us, neither diverging into unbending stiffness on the one hand, nor into too much familiarity on the other. Perfect politeness requires presence of mind, a quick sense of propriety, and an ability to form an instantaneous judgment of what is fittest to be said and done on every occasion as it offers. "Il me semble que l'esprit de politesse est une certaine attention a faire que, par nos paroles et nos manieres, les autres soient contents de nous et d'eux-memes" (I consider the spirit of politeness to be one which will govern our behaviour, so that by our words and actions others may be pleased with us and with themselves) is the opinion of Montesquieu. In our endeavours to be polite, we must be careful not to run into any extremes, but bear in mind that good manners show themselves where to the vulgar eye they are the least observable. Extreme ceremony is only the caricature of good-breeding; it produces contempt and embarrassment, not respect and ease.

            As an instance of the absurdity of extreme punctilio, I may relate one which occurred in Spain. On the death of a certain queen of that nation, the officers of the crown and grandees of the kingdom assembled at the usual time to open her Majesty's will; but finding that the first lady of the queen's chamber, who ought by virtue of her office to have been present, was absent, the august body sent a messenger requesting her attendance. The first lady replied that it was her duty not to leave her deceased royal mistress, and that therefore the nobles must wait upon her. Thereupon ensued a negotiation which lasted no less than eight hours. As both sides remained inflexible, it was proposed that without rising from their seats or moving themselves, they should be carried to a room at an equal distance between their own apartment and that of the Lady High Chamberlain, who should be also carried to the same place, seated upon a high cushion in the same manner as she had sat in the queen's chamber, to the end that it might be said that neither side had made a step to meet each other. This ludicrous compromise was actually carried out.

            If a person of higher rank desires you to step first into a carriage, it is better to bow and obey than to decline. Addison remarks, "A polite country squire shall make you as many bows in half an hour as would serve a courtier for a week;" "and there is," says the same writer, "infinitely more to-do about place and precedency in a meeting of justices' wives than in an assembly of duchesses."

            Thus, we should not constantly repeat the name of any one with whom we may be talking, nor should we make an excessive use of titles when conversing with people of rank. Tittlebat Tit-mouse exposed his ignorance of the habits of good society, not only by his flurried manner and great anxiety to show what the French call les attentions, but also in his mode of talking with his noble host—"Oh, yes, my lord; quite so, your lordship; wouldn't have been behind time, your lordship, for a minute, my lord," &c. &c.

            At the same time be it remembered that the other extreme must be guarded against—familiarity, too, "breeds contempt." It is only against the constant repetition of title or name that we utter a protest. Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the last century invariably addressed one another as Madam and Sir; the terms are now obsolete in ordinary conversation. An occasional interpolation of the name of the person with whom we are conversing is what is required, and more especially if we should happen to dissent in any degree, to contradict or to affirm.

            For instance, "Do you think so?" "I believe I am right," would sound brusque if not rude; but attach the name, and see what a different effect, and how softened the sentences appear: "Do you think so, Lady Penrose?" "I believe I am right, Mr. Brown."

            In speaking to a king or queen we address them as Your Majesty—other members of the Royal Family, as Your Royal Highness. A duke or duchess, Your Grace; an earl or countess, or any of the nobility of lower rank, as Your Lordship, or Your Ladyship.

            Descending in the scale of titles, I would, in passing, remark that it is not etiquette to address those who possess such titles as Colonel, Captain, Doctor, &c., by such designations only, but to append their respective surnames, and also that nothing is more objectionable than to hear ladies speak of gentlemen by their surnames only, or juveniles address their parents as "Pa" and "Ma," after the fashion of the Misses Pecksniff. For "grown-up" children, the terms "Father" and "Mother" are more becoming than "Papa" or "Mamma." The pronoun "my" should be used in speaking of relatives generally, as "My father says so," "My uncle told me."

            Apologising, again, is constantly carried to an ill-bred extreme. Numerous, profound, and reiterated apologies have the effect of making every one within hearing of them remarkably uncomfortable, and particularly the one who receives them. "Apologising," says a modem author, "is a very desperate habit, and one that is rarely cured." As it is ill-mannered to express too much regret, so it is the essence of rudeness not to make any apology. Should you have the misfortune to injure either the person or the feelings of your neighbour, the formal, "I beg your pardon," should be accompanied by an effort to prove the sincerity of the words, though it need not take the practical form given it by the poor Tittlebat Titmouse before alluded to, who, when he broke a glass dish, turned first to his host and then to his hostess with profuse apologies, and at the same time assured them that he would replace it with the best in London the very first thing in the morning.

            Let me now say a few words upon affectation, by which I mean the adoption of peculiarities of speech, action, and demeanour which are not natural. "La moindre affectation est un vice," says Voltaire. Oddities and singularities may attend genius, but when they do so they are its misfortunes and its blemishes. For instance, while we admire the wisdom of Dr. Johnson, we cannot hold up his manners as an example to be followed. Here is a description—"In the intervals of articulation he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes giving a half-whistle, or making his tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen; and when exhausted by much talking he would blow out his breath like a whale." Now, although this gross behaviour could never become the fashion, yet other practices are adopted which have quite as little grace and elegance about them, and not being natural to the individual who assumes them, destroy that ease of manner which it is so essential to attain. It is curious to notice that a description written in the seventeenth century of the various forms of affectation then in vogue is singularly applicable to the present day. "At one time it was fashionable to be short-sighted; a man would not own an acquaintance until he had first examined him through a (an eye) glass. The age no sooner recovered its sight than the blind were succeeded by the lame."Is not this a picture of some of the present follies of fashion? Have we not men with eye-glasses through which they cannot see, and women with affected limp, almost amounting to an awkward hobble, disfigurations most lamentable to those who are ridiculous enough to follow this absurdity of fashion?

            And now let me speak of the various fixed forms of observance which should be our guide on those occasions where set forms are found to be necessary in order to avoid embarrassment and confusion. It will be well first to give the general rules, and mention the exceptions when the circumstances which would occasion a divergence are treated of hereafter. To begin with introduction: when a lady and gentleman are to be introduced to each other, the lady's permission should first be asked and obtained, and the office can only be performed by a mutual friend. Always introduce the gentleman to the lady, and never the lady to the gentleman. When the sexes are the same, present the inferior to the superior.

The etiquette observed is to accompany the gentleman to the lady, who, if seated, does not rise, and say, "May I," or "Allow me to introduce Mr. Sinclair—Miss Grant, Mr. Sinclair." Where-upon both bow, but do not shake hands, the introducer then retires, and the introduced at once enter into conversation. It is always the part of the lady to make the first intimation of recognition at their next meeting. A gentleman must not either bow or shake hands with a lady until she has made the first movement; neither must he, under any circumstances, fail to return her courtesies. If he meet her in the street, and sees she wishes to speak, he will immediately turn and walk in the direction in which she is going; if on horseback, he will dismount and lead his horse, and walk by her side, for on no occasion is it permissible for a lady to stand while talking in a street. In a large town, and in busy, crowded thoroughfares, a gentleman escorting a lady may offer his arm; but in the country this is not allowable. In the days of our Dutch king, it was customary for a gentleman when walking beside a lady to carry his hat in his hand or under his arm. The practice of walking arm-in-arm appears to be quite of modern date. When two or more persons walked together, it was formerly the custom to hold each other by the hands. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries it seems to have been the height of gentility to hold the lady by the finger only. If by any mischance a lady is in a crowd, the gentleman should precede her, in order to clear a path for her, and try to shield her as much as he possibly can from rude encounters; for on suchlike gatherings honest John Bull thinks he does not show the true spirit of liberty unless he jostles, squeezes, and pushes his neighbours about as much as possible. A gentleman will follow a lady up and down stairs; he will get out of a carriage first, and offer his hand in order to assist her to alight; he will not use slang expressions when conversing with her; he will never smoke in the presence of a lady without first obtaining her permission, and if; when smoking out of doors, he meets any lady, be she friend or foe, he will take his cigar out of his mouth while passing her. "To be sure," says Dr. Johnson, "it is a shocking thing blowing smoke out of one's mouth into other people's mouths, eyes, and noses." The custom of withdrawing the glove before shaking hands with a lady is now a thing of the past. It originated in the knight taking off his iron gauntlet, which would have hurt the hand of his faire ladye. No longer do we see gentlemen carrying a creased glove, or wearing one untidily large, in order to avoid the awkwardness of keeping the lady waiting while he drags it off. The well-fitting, tidy, comfortable one has taken its place, and may it long retain it!

As grace should attend all the movements whether of man or woman, the manner of bowing, shaking the hand, walking, and speaking should be at once refined and elegant. The bow should be a graceful bend, or inclination of the head; not a hasty movement, nor a stiff jerk. A gentleman should raise his hat, indeed take it off his head, but not with a flourish, nor seize it with a sudden dash, as is now so often seen. There is great art in making a bow, dignified and stately, but at the same time neither stiff nor awkward; and how much more difficult is it than people suppose to shake hands well!

In what a variety of ways are our hands shaken in the course of the year, and how few of those ways are pleasant ones! Sometimes our hands are seized and violently agitated to and fro; at others, a limp, nerveless something is dropped into our out-stretched palm, which shows no sign of life while in our possession. There are people who, from no feeling of affection, but simply from a vicious habit intended to express heartiness and cordiality, squeeze your fingers until the rings upon them enter into your flesh. Others—and I think this the most trying ordeal—retain your hand in theirs for a length of time, and ever and anon give it a little shake by way of adding empressement to their inquiries about your welfare. This latter custom is a very old-fashioned one, but now and again one is rendered uncomfortable by encountering it. No, each of these forms of hand-shaking is most irritating and objectionable. Take the hand offered you firmly; be careful to grasp the hand not the fingers merely, which has a ridiculous effect; give it a gentle pressure, and then relinquish it; do not lift it up to shake, neither let it drop suddenly—heartiness and cordiality should be expressed, without the slightest approach to boisterousness.

I have often heard people say, "I can tell whether a man is a gentleman from his walk." I know that servants can be distinguished by the short abrupt steps they take; so, doubtless, a true lady can be discovered by her manner of walking. The following forms one of a code of manners drawn up by a Frenchman for the benefit of his countrywomen in the thirteenth century:—"Do not trot or run, and as you walk look straight before you with eyelids low and fixed, looking forward to the ground at five toises (thirty feet) before you, not looking at or turning your eyes to man or woman who may be to your right or left, nor looking upwards, nor changing your look from one place to another, nor laughing, nor stopping to speak to anybody." It does not appear that this strict rule was for the special use of nuns or any religious body, but intended for the well-bred lady of the time.

But to return to "ye maiden of our own day: "let her step be firm and her gait steady, let her not walk in too great a hurry, nor yet drag slowly along. Let her arms move with the natural motion of the body; they must neither swing to and fro nor dangle by the side.

 "Grace was in all her steps, In every gesture dignity."

 A man's walk should differ from a woman's in that he should take a longer step, but steadiness of carriage and firmness of tread are as necessary in the one as in the other. Horace Walpole is described as always entering a room with knees bent and feet on tiptoe, as if afraid of a wet floor; but we are told that this affected style was quite a la mode in his day.

In the house a woman is allowed much less freedom of posture than a man; he may change his position in an infinity of ways, lounge and loll, cross his legs, do anything but sit on the edge of his chair or clasp his hands round his knee; but a woman must sit still. Addison thought that the one great end of a lady's learning to dance was that she might know how to sit still gracefully. The hands, if not occupied, are so apt to fidget either with each other, with some part of the dress, or face. Very often it is a nervous habit; but from whatever cause it may arise, it should be at once and finally repressed.

One more remark I must make before I close the chapter, and that is on conversation. "The tone of good conversation," says Rousseau, "is flowing and natural; it is neither heavy nor frivolous; it is lively without noise." The art of conversation consists as much in listening politely as in talking agreeably; therefore never interrupt any one who may be speaking to you, and at the same time do not let your eyes wander to other objects, but keep them on the speaker, avoiding, however, the rude stare. We should never be demonstrative in our actions while speaking, nor should we either talk loudly or laugh boisterously; and the Persians say of noisy, unreasonable talk, "I hear the noise of the millstone, but I see no meal." Whispering is a great breach of good manners. It is young people, generally speaking, who commit this breach. Youth and high spirits, together with love of fun and frolic, make them forgetful or oblivious of the feelings of others, and they indulge in this reprehensible and rude habit—for rude it most undoubtedly is. Who has not seen a knot of young people cluster together in the corner of a room, and begin first to whisper and then to giggle? It may be that nothing was further from their thoughts or lips than to make remarks upon the company present; but such conduct always produces the impression on the minds of those outside the clique that they are the subject of those comments, and perhaps the objects of ridicule. Therefore, however strong the desire may be to have private fun and amusement, or to communicate secrets, it must not be given way to in public.

Happily for us, general society is not made as uncomfortable by this style of behaviour as it used to be; for the following description of the misery endured by a gentleman at an evening party, written fifty years ago, would be deemed a highly exaggerated one now:

"On my arrival the ladies indeed rose; but when I was seated, they grouped themselves in a corner and entered into a private cabal, seemingly to discourse upon points of great secresy and importance, but equal merriment and diversion. Their conversation was confined wholly to themselves—it was a continued laugh and whisper; a whole sentence was scarce ever spoken aloud; single words now and then broke forth, such as 'odious,' 'horrible,' &c. My friend seemed to be in an uneasy situation at his own table, but I was far more miserable. I sat mute, and seldom dared to raise my eyes or turn my head, lest by some awkward gesture I might draw upon me a whisper or a laugh." I should not have remarked upon this habit had it been an obsolete one; but it is by no means uncommon now.

Would that the speaking voice were as assiduously cultivated as the singing voice, and then the nerves of our ears would not be so often jarred by harsh and unmelodious talking! "Her voice was ever soft, gentle, and low—an excellent thing in woman." That it is a question of culture we may be sure, by observing that all those who speak on the stage have sweetly-toned, pleasant voices, and this could not be natural in every case. Our two Queens Anne and Mary were both distinguished for their clear and distinct pronunciation, their sweetness of intonation and grace of enunciation; these important accomplishments they derived from the instructions of Mrs. Betterton, an actress.

And then again, what pleasanter sound than a musical laugh? and yet how seldom do we hear one! Goldsmith asserts that a loud laugh bespeaks a vacant mind, and Carlyle writes in his quaint way, "Few are able to laugh what can be called laughing, but only sniff and titter from the throat outwards, or, at best, produce some whiffling, husky cachinnations, as if they were laughing through wool. Of none such comes good." Without endorsing this sweeping assertion, we may earnestly recommend the culture of a well-modulated voice and musical laugh.

But, alas! what avails the sweetest-toned voice, if the language is not correct and refined? In the words of Ruskin, "A well-educated gentleman may not know many languages—may not be able to speak any but his own. But whatever languages he knows, he knows precisely; whatever word he pronounces, he pronounces rightly—above all, he is learned in the peerage of words; knows the words of true descent and ancient blood at a glance from words of modern canaille." Not only should the rules of grammar be attended to strictly, not only should the "poor letter H" be always put in its right and never in its wrong place, but care should be taken lest words and phrases should be introduced unconsciously into our conversation, which are offensive corruptions of the English tongue. And to quote Ruskin once more, "Vulgarity is indicated by coarseness of language, but only so far as this coarseness has been contracted under circumstances not necessarily producing it. There is no vulgarity in –

but much in Mrs. Gamp's inarticulate ‘bottle on the chumley-piece, and let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged.’ Provincial dialect,” he goes on to say, "is not vulgar, but Cockney dialect is so in a deep degree, because it is the corruption of a finer language continually heard." This ignorance or want of taste meets with a sharp rebuke in the pages of the Tatler. The fashion of abbreviating words, of making one word out of two, and pronouncing the first syllable only, in a word that has many, is strongly censured. This reproof was directed against the use of such words as "phiz," "coz," and the like, then in vogue. We may, in like manner, condemn as wholly objectionable the use of those barbarous mutilations of phrases such as "thank you," which has been condensed into "thanks;" and also lift up our voices against the shortening of "invitation" into "invite." The constant use of the word "lady" and the term "lady friend" is also objectionable. It is to be presumed that all your female acquaintances are "ladies." A writer sarcastically observes, "There is scarce one woman to be met with; the sex consists almost entirely of ladies."

The recognised order of precedency is as follows:

Peers rank among themselves by date, according to their patent of creation.

Foreign ambassadors are given the precedence of our nobility, as the representatives of the person of the Sovereign who accredits them.

There is no specified place for physicians or medical men, but they are ranked in the Royal household as next to knights. 

PRECEDENCY AMONG MEN

 Sovereign.

Prince of Wales.

Sons of Sovereign.

Grandsons of Sovereign.

Brothers of Sovereign.

Uncles of Sovereign.

Sovereign's brothers' or sisters' sons.

Archbishop of Canterbury,

Lord Primate of All England.

The Lord High Chancellor or Lord Keeper.

The Archbishop of York, Primate of England.

The Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of Ireland.

The Archbishop of Dublin.

The Lord High Treasurer.

The Lord President of the Privy Council.

The Lord Privy Seal.

The Lord Great Chamberlain.

The Lord High Constable.

The Earl Marshal.

The Lord High Admiral.

The Lord Steward of Her Majesty's Household.

The Lord Chamberlain of Her Majesty's Household.

Dukes, according to their patent of creation.

Marquises, according to their patent of creation.

Dukes' eldest sons.

Earls, according to their patents

Marquises' eldest sons.

Dukes' younger sons.

Viscounts, according to their patents.

Earls' eldest sons.

Marquises' younger sons.

Bishops—London, Durham, and Winchester. All other English Bishops according to their seniority of consecration.

Bishops of Meath and Kildare. All other Irish Bishops ac-cording to their seniority of consecration.

Secretaries of State of the degree of Baron.

Barons, according to their patent.

Speaker of the House of Commons.

Commissioners of the Great Seal.

Treasurer of Her Majesty's Household.

Comptroller of Her Majesty's Household.

Master of the Horse.

Vice-Chamberlain of Her Majesty's Household.

Secretaries of State under the degree of Baron.

Viscounts' eldest sons.

Earls' younger sons.

Barons' eldest sons.

Knights of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.

Privy Councillors.

Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster.

Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench.

Master of the Rolls.

Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas.

Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer.

The Lords Justices of the Court of Appeal in Chancery.

Vice-Chancellors.

Judges and Barons of the degree of the Coif of the said Courts.

Commissioners of the Court of Bankruptcy.

Viscounts' younger sons.

Barons' younger sons.

Baronets of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

Knights of Grand Crosses of the Bath.

Knights of Grand Crosses of St. Michael and St. George.

Knights Commanders of St. Michael and St. George.

Knights Bachelors.

Companions of the Bath.

Cavaliers Companions of St. Michael and St. George. Eldest sons of younger sons of peers.

Baronets' eldest sons.

Eldest sons of Knights of the Garter.

Eldest sons of Knights of the Bath.

Knights' eldest sons.

Younger sons of younger sons of Peers.

Baronets' younger sons.

Esquires of the Sovereign's Body.

Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber.

Esquires of Knights of the Bath.

Esquires by creation.

Esquires by office.

Younger sons of Knights of the Garter.

Younger sons of Knights of the Bath.

Younger sons of Knights Bachelors.

Clergymen, Barristers-at-law, Officers in the Navy and Army, who are all Gentlemen, and have their respective precedency in their several professions.

Citizens.

Burgesses.

PRECEDENCY AMONG WOMEN.

The Queen.

Princess of Wales.

Princesses, daughters of the Sovereign.

Princesses and Duchesses, wives of the Sovereign's sons.

Granddaughters of the Sovereign.

Wives of the Sovereign's grandsons.

The Sovereign's sisters.

Wives of the Sovereign's brothers.

The Sovereign's aunts.

Wives of the Sovereign's uncles.

Wives of eldest sons of Dukes of the Blood Royal.

Daughters of Dukes of the Blood Royal.

Duchesses.

Marchionesses.

Wives of the eldest sons of Dukes.

Daughters of Dukes.

Countesses.

Wives of eldest sons of Marquises.

Daughters of Marquises.

Wives of younger sons of Dukes.

Viscountesses.

Wives of eldest sons of Earls.

Daughters of Earls.

Wives of younger sons of Marquises.

Baronesses.

Wives of eldest sons of Viscounts.

Daughters of Viscounts.

Wives of younger sons of Earls.

Wives of eldest sons of Barons.

Daughters of Barons.

Maids of Honour.

Wives of younger sons of Viscounts.

Wives of younger sons of Barons.

Wives of Baronets.

Wives of Knights of the Garter.

Wives of Knights of Grand Crosses, Order of the Bath.

Wives of Knights Grand Crosses of St. Michael and St. George.

Wives of Knights Bachelors.

Wives of Companions of the Bath.

Wives of Companions of St Michael and St. George.

Wives of the eldest sons of the younger sons of Peers.

Wives of eldest sons of Baronets.

Daughters of Baronets.

Wives of the eldest sons of Knights of the Garter.

Daughters of Knights of the Garter.

Wives of eldest sons of Knights of the Bath.

Daughters of Knights of the Bath.

Wives of eldest sons of Knights Bachelors.

Daughters of Knights Bachelors.

Wives of younger sons of younger sons of Peers.

Wives of younger sons of Baronets.

Wives of Esquires of the Sovereign's Body.

Wives of Esquires to the Knights of the Bath.

Wives of Gentlemen entitled to bear arms.

Daughters of Esquires entitled to bear arms who are Gentlewomen by birth.

Daughters of Gentlemen entitled to bear arms who are Gentlewomen by birth.

Wives of Clergymen, Barristers-at-law.

Wives of Officers in the Navy and Army.

Wives of Citizens.

Wives of Burgesses.

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