(_For the Mirror._)
When you visit married people, pay particular attention to their
children: the more noisy, troublesome, and disagreeable they are, the
more is it incumbent upon you to praise them. Should the baby
entertain you with a passionate squall for an hour or two, vow that it
is "a charming child"--"a sweet pet"--"a dear, pretty, little
creature," &c. &c. Call red hair auburn, and "a sweet, uncommon
colour;" a squint, or cross-eye, think "an agreeable expression;"
maintain that an ugly child is extremely handsome, and the image
either of one or other of its parents, or of its handsomest,
wealthiest, or most aristocratic relations. Discover which of a
family is mamma's, and which papa's favourite, and pay your court
accordingly; for it is better to lavish, in this case, your attentions
and encomiums upon one or two, than upon all.
When requiring an introduction to any great people, scruple not to
avail yourself of the services of the little; but when mounted as high
as you please, by all means kick down your ladders, cast away your
stepping stones--since they might, instead of being of any further
assistance, only prove incumbrances to you.
Take every opportunity of joining in conversation with those to whom
you desire to recommend yourself. Should you feel at a loss for topics
of discourse, mention servants, and tradesmen, upon whom fail not to
bestow most hearty abuse;--vow that they are an unprincipled set of
knaves, scoundrels, and thieves. Hence you will be thought to have
"much to say for yourself;" and should you be enabled to narrate any
grievous losses sustained from these members of society, you will
obtain credit for having "something to lose" at any rate, and find it
of incalculable value.
When you direct a letter to a knight bachelor--though it is indeed
customary and well-bred to omit altogether the Knt.--yet it will never
be taken amiss should you venture to address him as a Knight of the
Garter, Bath, &c. &c., or even as a Baronet. Undoubtedly it is as
vulgar to misapprehend and confound titles, as it is to mispronounce
and misspell names; nevertheless rest assured, that flattered vanity
will go far to pardon vulgarity.
If a gentleman, pay infinite attention to the single ladies of a
family--compliment, flirt, converse with, and ask them to dance. This
conduct will obtain for you, on account of the fair creatures,
marvellous good report, numerous invitations; and if you have
sufficient tact to steer clear of committing yourself for more than a
few flattering and general attentions, you may be considered one of
the happiest of those who live--by their wits, and upon their friends.
Should your "dancing days be over," which is scarcely probable,
considering how greatly it is now the fashion for "potent, grave, and
reverend signors," and signoras also, to join the gay quadrille, &c.
(and here we may as well note, that in genteel society, dowager
honourables and old ladies may dance, whilst young, plain misses may
not)--there are sundry modes of rendering yourself agreeable, which
your own taste and talents, it is to be presumed, will naturally
suggest: chess, whist, ecarté, quadrille, &c. &c., not to mention a
little practical knowledge of music, are acquirements which cause an
individual to be considered "very agreeable"--because very useful; and
rely upon it, as the world goes, utility in nine cases out of ten is,
with society, a consideration. Hence, no creature is so universally
voted disagreeable as one from whom no kind of service can be exacted;
and whilst roués, gamesters, and tipplers, duelists, pugilists, and
blacklegs, are tolerated in society, stupid men are overlooked, or
thrust out of it with contempt.
Dress in the extreme of fashion: you can neither gain nor maintain
your ground without so doing; and as you have an end to answer, which
your tailors or milliners have not, of course you will not suffer the
unfashionable dictates of conscience, respecting their bills, to
interfere with your proceedings.
Answer an invitation as soon as it is received; many individuals defer
so doing for some days, which certainly shows fashionable ease and
nonchalance, besides allowing time for the arrival of another and
preferable one; but, by those who are absolutely bent upon advancing
themselves in society, this practice is to be eschewed, since by
perplexing, it so annoys the donor of a fête, that the chances are
greatly against your ever again being asked.
Never omit, the day after a party, to send or leave your card, as an
acknowledgment for the civility you have received. This ceremony,
indeed, it is to your interest frequently to repeat at the doors of
your friends, since it will ensure your never being forgotten by them.
Never go to an evening party until you are pretty certain that
everybody else is coming away. Your consequence will by this conduct
be enhanced;--you may protest that you have already appeared at two or
three balls, &c. When, if a student or fashionable novel-writer, your
time may have been more rationally employed at home, you go too late
to dance much, if the exercise, or rather the partners, be
disagreeable to you; you ensure being seen, which is something,--for,
alas! how many worthy aspirants to fashion, fortune, and fame, if of
no actual importance, are fated to pass unnoticed in a crowd! and the
opportunity is besides afforded you of paying almost undivided
attention to your host, hostess, and family, which must materially
advance your interests. Neither be in too great haste to quit the
houses of those to whom you desire to recommend yourself. Parties,
even the worst, cost both money and trouble; and whilst the givers of
them feel it no compliment to be run away from, as if a pestilence
raged in their habitations, it is positively insulting to inform them
that another soiree, from which you hope better things, awaits your
presence.
If a lady, "set up for a beauty:" rely upon it, no persons will "cry
you up" as such unless you give them the note. Should you be extremely
plain, no matter; friz your hair until it stands out one English ell
from your face, and mount it, in bows, braids, &c., three yards at
least from the crown of your head; drawl, or lisp in your speech;
bring out words and phrases from every living tongue with which you
may happen to be slightly acquainted; boast of "the continent;" mince
your gait; wriggle forward upon your toes when you walk; and swim and
dip, whenever led into the atrocity of committing a _quad_-rille. In
brief, give yourself unimaginable airs; then protest that your
manners, as well as your costume, are of the newest Parisian mode--and
it is ten to one but that affectation will be accepted in lieu of, or
mistaken for, beauty.
Never forget, that as it is sometimes very prudent to be deaf and dumb
in society, so is it extremely convenient upon occasions to be blind.
The cuts, direct and oblique--the looks at, and the looks over--the
distant, formal bow, and the adroit turn upon the heel (should you
perceive the party, intended to be cut for the time being at least,
advancing with dire intent of obliging a recognition), may be,
especially upon old and provincial friends, practised _ad libitum_,
without the slightest danger of your character for etiquette,
politeness, suavity, and general pleasantness, being impeached. Indeed
it is not incompatible with the highest breeding, to allow your
slighted and amazed acquaintance to hear you quizzing, and see you
laughing at, him heartily, should it be your interest so to do; and
then next day, to walk boldly up to him, protest he is the best fellow
in the world; and should he be so senseless as to venture an allusion
to your "late conduct," to vow, with the extremest audacity, that he
happens to be under some evident and deplorable mistake, &c. &c. In
short, should you really find yourself in a scrape, to back out of it
as well as you are able.
When at a ball, it may sometimes be to your advantage (though
fashionable insolence should not be carried too far) to act in the
following manner:--
1. Ask a lady if she is engaged to dance. Should she answer "No,"
whilst her eyes say "Yes, if you will be my partner," then, instead of
offering yourself for that purpose, protest that "dancing is a mighty
bore, which no gentleman would endure, could he possibly help it," and
walk away.
2. Having elicited from a lady that she is not engaged for the ensuing
dance, exclaim, with a smile of triumph, "I am! and must go and find
my partner."
3. When conversing with one young lady, whom you do not design to
compliment by leading out for waltz, quadrille, or galoppe, mazurka,
or Russian cotillon, &c., take particular care, in her hearing, to
engage yourself to another. This is equally kind and polite.
4. Upon the conclusion of a dance, either leave your partner standing
in the middle of the room--which I have beheld performed with
admirable effect---or, hastily leading her to a seat, quit her
instantly: which proceeding says, in plain English, "Lady, I would not
stay another moment with you for anything that could be offered me,
lest the world should choose to fancy we are engaged."
Respecting giving and lending, which are sometimes necessary worldly
duties, your guide must be this brief, but infallible rule--"Venture a
small fish to catch a large one." Those antiquated beings, indeed,
whom the polite style "horrid bores," but whose generic appellation is
Christians, are accustomed to "lend and give, not hoping to receive;"
yet this maxim cannot of course be supposed to influence the conduct
of those who desire to advance themselves in the world, because they
are bound to bear in mind, that they cannot admit of any principle of
action which tends, in the slightest degree, to militate against their
interest.--_Et caetera desunt._