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

be carried to the house of some near and dear

relative.

 

Confirmation is in the Episcopal Church the sequel to baptism; and

in France this is a beautiful and very important ceremony. In the

month of May the streets are filled with white doves—young girls,

all in muslin and lace veils, going with their mothers or

chaperons to be confirmed. Here the duty of the godfather or the

godmother comes in; and if a child is an orphan, or has careless

or irreligious parents, the Church holds the godparent responsible

that these children be brought to the bishop to be confirmed.

 

Notices of confirmation to be held are always given out in the

various churches some weeks prior to the event; and persons

desirous of being admitted to the rite are requested to make known

their wish and to give their names to their clergyman. Classes are

formed, and instruction and preparation given during the weeks

preceding the day which the bishop has appointed. In England a

noble English lady is as much concerned for her goddaughter

through all this important period as she is for her daughter. In

France the obligation is also considered sacred. We have known of

a lady who made the journey from Montpellier to Paris—although

she could scarcely afford the expense—to attend the confirmation

of her goddaughter, although the young girl had a father and

mother.

 

It is a ceremony well worth seeing, either in England or France.

The girls walk in long processions through the streets; the dress

uniformly of white with long veils. Youths follow in black suits,

black ties, and gloves; they enter one aisle of the church, the

girls the other. When the time arrives for the laying on of hands,

the girls go first, two and two; they give their card or

certificate into the hands of the bishop’s chaplain, who stands

near to receive them. The candidates kneel before the bishop, who

lays his hands severally on their heads.

 

Of course persons not belonging to the Episcopal Church do not

observe this rite. But as a belief in baptism is almost universal,

there is no reason why the godfather and godmother should not be

chosen and adhered to. We always name our children, or we are apt

to, for some dear friend; and we would all gladly believe that

such a friendship, begun at the altar when he is being consecrated

to a Christian life, may go with him and be a help to the dear

little man. In our belligerent independence and our freedom from

creeds and cant we have thrown away too much, and can afford to

reassert our belief in and respect for a few old customs.

 

Royalty has always been a respecter of these powers. King Edward

VI. and his sisters were each baptized when only three days old,

and the ceremony, which lasted between two and three days, took

place at night, by torch-light. The child was carried under a

canopy, preceded by gentlemen bearing in state the sponsors’

gifts, and attended by a flourish of trumpets.

 

At a modern caudle party the invitations are sent out a week in

advance, and read thus:

 

_”Mr. and Mrs. Brown request the pleasure of your company on

Tuesday afternoon, at three o’clock. 18 West Kent Street. Caudle.

‘No presents are expected.‘_”

 

For the honor of being a godfather one receives a note in the

first person, asking the friend to assume that kindly office, and

also mentioning the fact that the name will be so and so. If the

baby is named for the godfather, a very handsome present is

usually made; if not, the godfather or godmother still sends some

little token of regard. This, however, is entirely a matter of

fancy. No one is obliged to give a present, of course.

 

The baby at his christening is shown off in a splendid robe, very

much belaced and embroidered, and it is to be feared that it is a

day of disturbance for him. Babies should not be too much excited;

a quiet and humdrum existence, a not too showy nurse, and regular

hours are conducive to a good constitution for these delicate

visitors. The gay dresses and jingling ornaments of the Roman

nurses are now denounced by the foreign doctors as being too

exciting to the little eyes that are looking out on a new world.

They are very pretty and picturesque, and many a travelling mamma

goes into a large outlay for these bright colors and for the

peasant jewelry. The practice of making a child ride backward in a

push-wagon is also sternly denounced by modern physicians.

 

Fashionable mammas who give caudle parties should remember that in

our harsh climate maternity is beset by much feebleness as to

nerves in both mother and child; therefore a long seclusion in the

nursery is advised before the dangerous period of entertaining

one’s friends begins. Let the caudle party wait, and the

christening be done quietly in one’s own bedroom, if the infant is

feeble. Show off the young stranger at a later date: an ounce of

prevention is worth a pound of cure.

 

CHAPTER XXX.

THE MODERN DINNER-TABLE.

 

The appointments of the modern dinner-table strikingly indicate

that growth of luxury of which the immediate past has been so

fruitful. Up to twenty years ago a dinner, even in the house of a

merchant prince, was a plain affair. There was a white tablecloth

of double damask; there were large, handsome napkins; there was a

rich service of solid silver, and perhaps some good china.

Flowers, if used at all, were not in profusion; and as for

glasses, only a few of plain white, or perhaps a green or a red

one for claret or hock, were placed at the side of the plate.

 

Of course there were variations and exceptions to this rule, but

they were few and far between. One man, or often one maid-servant,

waited at the table; and, as a protection for the tablecloth,

mats were used, implying the fear that the dish brought from the

top of the kitchen-range, if set down, would leave a spot or

stain. All was on a simple or economical plan. The grand dinners

were served by caterers, who sent their men to wait at them, which

led to the remark, often laughed at as showing English stupidity,

made by the Marquis of Hartington when he visited New York at the

time of our war. As he looked at old Peter Van Dyck and his

colored assistants, whom he had seen at every house at which he

had dined, he remarked, “How much all your servants resemble each

other in America!” It was really an unintentional sarcasm, but it

might well have suggested to our nouveaux riches the propriety

of having their own trained servants to do the work of their

houses instead of these outside men. A degree of elegance which we

have not as a nation even yet attained is that of having a

well-trained corps of domestic servants.

 

A mistress of a house should be capable of teaching her servants

the method of laying a table and attending it, if she has to take,

as we commonly must, the uneducated Irishman from his native bogs

as a house-servant. If she employs the accomplished and

well-recommended foreign servant, he is too apt to disarrange her

establishment by disparaging the scale on which it is conducted,

and to engender a spirit of discontent in her household. Servants

of a very high class, who can assume the entire management of

affairs, are only possible to people of great wealth, and they

become tyrants, and wholly detestable to the master and mistress

after a short slavery. One New York butler lately refused to wash

dishes, telling his mistress that it would ruin his finger-nails.

But this man was a consummate servant, who laid the table and

attended it, with an ease and grace that gave his mistress that

pleasant feeling of certainty that all would go well, which is the

most comfortable of all feelings to a hostess, and without which

dinner-giving is annoyance beyond all words.

 

The arrangement of a dinner-table and the waiting upon it are the

most important of all the duties of a servant or servants, and any

betrayal of ignorance, any nervousness or noise, any accident, are

to be deplored, showing as they do want of experience and lack of

training.

 

No one wishes to invite his friends to be uncomfortable. Those

dreadful dinners which Thackeray describes, at which people with

small incomes tried to rival those of large means, will forever

remain in the minds of his readers as among the most painful of

all revelations of sham. We should be real first, and ornamental

afterwards.

 

In a wealthy family a butler and two footmen are employed, and it

is their duty to work together in harmony, the butler having

control. The two footmen lay the table, the butler looking on to

see that it is properly done. The butler takes care of the wine,

and stands behind his mistress’s chair. Where only one man is

employed, the whole duty devolves upon him, and he has generally

the assistance of the parlor-maid. Where there is only a

maid-servant, the mistress of the house must see that all

necessary arrangements are made.

 

The introduction of the extension-table into our long, narrow

dining-rooms has led to the expulsion of the pretty round-table,

which is of all others the most cheerful. The extension-table,

however, is almost inevitable, and one of the ordinary size, with

two leaves added, will seat twelve people. The public caterers say

that every additional leaf gives room for four more people, but

the hostess, in order to avoid crowding, would be wise if she

tested this with her dining-room chairs. New York dinner-parties

are often crowded, sixteen being sometimes asked when the table

will only accommodate fourteen. This is a mistake, as heat and

crowding should be avoided. In country houses, or in Philadelphia,

Boston, Washington, and other cities where the dining-rooms are

ordinarily larger than those in a New York house, the danger of

crowding, of heat, and want of ventilation, is more easily

avoided; but in a gas-lighted, furnace-heated room in New York the

sufferings of the diners-out are sometimes terrible.

 

The arrangements for the dinner, whether the party be ten or

twenty, should be the same. Much has been said about the number to

be invited, and there is an old saw that one should not invite

“fewer than the Graces nor more than the Muses.” This partiality

to uneven numbers refers to the difficulty of seating a party of

eight, in which case, if the host and hostess take the head and

foot of the table, two gentlemen and two ladies will come

together. But the number of the Graces being three, no worse

number than that could be selected for a dinner-party; and nine

would be equally uncomfortable at an extension-table, as it would

be necessary to seat three on one side and four on the other. Ten

is a good number for a small dinner, and easy to manage. One

servant can wait on ten people, and do it well, if well-trained.

Twenty-four people often sit down at a modern dinner-table, and

are well served by a butler and two men, though some luxurious

dinner-givers have a man behind each chair. This, however, is

ostentation.

 

A lady, if she issue invitations for a dinner of ten or twenty,

should do so a fortnight in advance, and should have her cards

engraved thus:

 

_Mr. and Mrs. James Norman

request the pleasure of

Mr. and Mrs. John Brown’s company at dinner

on Thursday, February eighth,

at seven o’clock._

 

These engraved forms, on notepaper, filled up with the necessary

time and date,