Manners and Social Usages - Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood (mobile ebook reader TXT) 📗

their guests were asked to come in walking-dress. But

soon the other side of the story began to tell. A lady going in

velvet and furs into a heated room, where gas added its discomfort

to the subterranean fires of a furnace, drank her hot cup of tea,

and came out to take a dreadful cold. Her walking dress was

manifestly a dress inappropriate to a kettledrum. Then the hostess

and the guests both became more dressy, the afternoon tea lost its

primitive character and became a gay reception. Then, again, the

nerves! The doctors condemn even the afternoon cup of tea, and

declare that it is the foundation of much of the nervous

prostration, the sleeplessness, and the nameless misery of our

overexcited and careworn oxygen driven people. We are overworked,

no doubt. We are an overcivilized set, particularly in the large

cities, and every one must decide for himself or herself if “tea”

is not an insidious enemy. That the introduction of an informal

and healthful and inexpensive way of entertaining is a grand

desideratum no one can fail to observe and allow. But with the

growth of an idea the tea blossomed into a supper, and the little

knot into a crowd, and of course the name became a misnomer.

 

The ideal entertainment would seem to be a gathering between four

and seven, which is thoroughly understood to be a large

gas-lighted party, which a lady enters properly dressed for a hot

room, having a cloak which she can throw off in the hall, and

where she can make her call long or short, as she pleases, and can

find a cup of hot bouillon if she is cold, or tea if she prefers

it, or a more elaborate lunch if her hostess pleases; and this

ideal entertainment is not afternoon tea; it is a reception.

It is well enough indicated by the date on the card, and does not

need a name.

 

The abuse of the “afternoon tea” was that it took the place of

other entertainments. It has almost ruined the early evening

party, which was so pleasant a feature of the past. People who

could well afford to give breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and balls,

where men and women could meet each other, and talk, and know each

other well, did not give them; they gave an afternoon tea.

 

It may be because we have no “leisure class” that we do not give

breakfasts. In all our Anglomania it is strange that we have not

copied that plain, informal thing, an English breakfast, such as

Sydney Smith was wont to give. Mr. Webster writes home in 1839:

“In England the rule of politeness is to be quiet, act naturally,

take no airs, and make no bustle. This perfect politeness has cost

a great deal of drill.” He delighted in the English breakfasts,

where he met “Boz,” Tom Moore, Wordsworth, Rogers (who never gave

any entertainment but breakfasts). We are all workers in America,

yet we might have an occasional breakfast-party. Dinners and

ladies’ lunches we know very well how to give, and there are

plenty of them. Perhaps the only objection to them is their

oversumptuousness. The ideal dinners of the past at Washington,

with the old Virginia hospitality, the oysters, terrapin, wild

turkeys, venison, served by negro cooks and waiters, the hostess

keeping the idea of agreeability before her, instead of caring

principally for her china, her glass, and her tablecloth. These

gave way long ago in New York to the greater luxury of the

prosperous city, and if there was any loss, it was in the

conversation. New York women have been forced into a life of

overdressing, dancing, visiting, shopping, gaining the

accomplishments, and showing them off, and leading the life of

society at its height; the men have been overwhelmingly engaged in

commerce, and later in Wall Street. No wonder that four o’clock

was an hour at which both paused, and called for a “cup of tea.”

 

Nor because the name has passed away-temporarily, perhaps—will

the fashion pass. People will still gather around the steaming

urn. Young ladies find it a very pretty recreation to make the

tea-table attractive with the floral arrangements, the basket of

cake, the sandwiches, the silver tea-caddy, the alcohol lamp

burning under the silver or copper kettle, the padded “cozy” to

keep the tea warm, the long table around which young gentlemen and

young ladies can sit, while mamma, patient American

mamma—receives the elder people in the parlor.

 

It is no longer the elderly lady who presides at the teakettle;

the tabbies do not make or drink the teas; the younger pussies are

the queens of four-o’clock tea. It is whispered that it is a

convenient alias for flirtation, or something even sweeter—that

many engagements have been made at “four-o’clock teas.”

 

Certainly it is a very good opportunity for showing one’s

teacups. The handsome china can be displayed at a four-o’clock

tea, if it is not too large, to the best advantage. The very early

assumption of a grand social entertainment under the name of

“four-o’clock tea” rather blotted out one of the prettiest

features of the English tea, that of the graceful garment the _tea

gown_.

 

Tea gowns in France, under the r�gime of Worth, have become most

luxurious garments. They are made of silk, satin, velvet, and

lined with delicate surah. They are trimmed with real and

imitation lace, and are of the most delicate shades of pink, blue,

lavender, and pearl-color; cascades of lace extend down the front.

In these, made loose to the figure, but still very elegant and

most becoming, do the English princess, the duchess, and the

Continental coroneted or royal dame, or the queen of fashion,

receive their guests at afternoon tea. No wonder that in each

bridal trousseau do we read of the wonderful “tea gowns.” In

America ladies have been in the habit of always receiving in the

tight-fitting and elegant combinations of silk, surah, brocade,

velvet, and cashmere which fill the wardrobe of modern fashion.

The dresses of delicate cashmere, so becoming to young girls, are

always very much patronized for afternoon tea. Indeed, the young

lady dressed for afternoon tea was dressed for dinner. In this, as

our American afternoon teas have been managed, the American young

lady was right, for it is not convenable, according to European

ideas, to wear a loose flowing robe of the tea-gown pattern out of

one’s bedroom or boudoir. It has been done by ignorant people at a

watering-place, but it never looks well. It is really an undress,

although lace and satin may be used in its composition. A plain,

high, and tight-fitting g�arment is much the more elegant dress

for the afternoon teas as we give them.

 

Call it what you will—reception, kettledrum, afternoon tea, or

something without a name—we have unconsciously, imitating a very

different sort of informal gathering, gained an easy and a

sensible entertainment in society, from four to seven; which seems

to address itself to all kinds of needs. We are prone in America

(so foreigners say) to overdo a thing—perhaps, also, to underdo

it. Be that as it may, all agree with Lord Houghton, who laughed

at the phrase, that we know how “to have a good time.”

 

CHAPTER XXIX.

CAUDLE AND CHRISTENING CUPS AND CEREMONIES.

 

We are asked by many young mammas as to the meaning of the phrase

“caudle parties.”

 

Formerly the persons who called to congratulate the happy

possessor of a new boy or girl were offered mulled wine and

plum-cake. Some early chronicler thinks that the two got mixed,

and that caudle was the result.

 

Certain it is that a most delicious beverage, a kind of oatmeal

gruel, boiled “two days,” with raisins and spices, and fine old

Madeira (some say rum) added, makes a dish fit to set before a

king, and is offered now to the callers on a young mamma. The old

English custom was to have this beverage served three days after

the arrival of the little stranger. The caudle-cups, preserved in

many an old family, are now eagerly sought after as curiosities;

they have two handles, so they could be passed from one to

another. They were handed down as heirlooms when these candle

parties were more fashionable than they have been, until a recent

date. Now there is a decided idea of reintroducing them. In those

days the newly-made papa also entertained his friends with a stag

party, when bachelors and also Benedicks were invited to eat

buttered toast, which was sugared and spread in a mighty

punch-bowl, over which boiling-hot beer was poured. After the

punch-bowl was emptied, each guest placed a piece of money in the

bowl for the nurse. Strong ale was brewed, and a pipe of wine laid

by to be drunk on the majority of the child.

 

This greasy mess is fortunately now extinct, but the caudle, a

really delicious dish or drink, is the fashion again. It is

generally offered when master or miss is about six weeks old, and

mamma receives her friends in a tea gown or some pretty

convalescent wrap, very often made of velvet or plush cut in the

form of a belted-in jacket and skirt, or in one long princesse

robe, elaborately trimmed with cascades of lace down the front.

The baby is, of course, shown, but not much handled. Some parents

have the christening and the caudle party together, but of this,

it is said, the Church does not approve.

 

The selection of godparents is always a delicate task. It is a

very great compliment, of course, to ask any one to stand in this

relation, highly regarded in England, but not so much thought of

here. Formerly there were always two godfathers and two

godmothers, generally chosen from friends and relations, who were

expected to watch over the religious education of the young child,

and to see that he was, in due time, confirmed. In all old

countries this relationship lasts through life; kindly help and

counsel being given to the child by the godfather—even to

adoption in many instances—should the parents die. But in our new

country, with the absence of an established Church, and with our

belief in the power of every man to take care of himself, this

beautiful relationship has been neglected. We are glad to see by

our letters that it is being renewed, and that people are thinking

more of these time-honored connections.

 

After a birth, friends and acquaintances should call and send in

their cards, or send them by their servants, with kind inquiries.

When the mother is ready to see her friends, she should, if she

wishes, signify that time by sending out cards for a “caudle

party.” But let her be rather deliberate about this unless she has

a mother, or aunt, or sister to take all the trouble for her.

 

The godfather and godmother generally give some little present; a

silver cup or porringer, knife, fork, and spoon, silver basin,

coral tooth-cutter, or coral and bells, were the former gifts;

but, nowadays, we hear of one wealthy godfather who left a check

for $100,000 in the baby’s cradle; and it is not unusual for those

who can do so to make some very valuable investment for the child,

particularly if he bears the name of the godfather.

 

Some people—indeed, most people—take their children to church to

be baptized, and then give a luncheon at home afterwards to which

all are invited, especially the officiating clergyman and his

wife, as well as the sponsors. The presents should be given at

this time. Old-fashioned people give the baby some salt and an egg

for good luck, and are particular that he should be carried

upstairs before he is carried down, and that when he goes out

first he shall