THE VISITED
IT has been said,—and with an unfortunate amount of truth, that the
gracious old-fashioned art of hospitality is dying out. Those who
keep open house from year’s end to year’s end, from whose doors the
latch-string floats in the breeze, ready for the fingers of any friend
who will grasp it, are few.
The “entertaining” that is done now does not compensate us for the
loss of what may be called the “latch-string-out” custom of the days
gone by. Luncheons, teas, dinners, card-parties, receptions and the
like, fill the days with engagements and hold our eyes waking until
the morning hours, but this is a kind of wholesale hospitality as it
were, and done by contract. Such affairs remind one ludicrously of the
irreligious and historic farmer-boy who, reminiscent of his father’s
long-winded “grace before meat,” suggested when they salted the pork
for the winter that he “say grace over the whole barrel” and pay off a
disagreeable obligation all at one time.
[Sidenote: SERVANTS AND GUESTS]
Perhaps if our hostess were frank she would acknowledge a similar
desire when she sends out cards by the hundreds and fills her
drawing-rooms to overflowing with guests, scores of whom care to come
even less than she cares to have them. But there seems to be a credit
and debit account kept, and once in so often it is incumbent on the
society woman to “give something.” Florists and caterers are called to
her aid, and, with waiters and assistants hired for the occasion, take
the work of preparation for the entertainment off my lady’s hands.
* * * * *
In speaking of hospitality in this chapter, we refer especially to
the entertaining of a visitor for one, or many days in the home. Not
long ago we made a point of asking several housekeepers why they did
not invite friends to visit them. Three out of four interviewed on the
subject agreed that the servants were the main drawback. The fourth
woman, who was in moderate circumstances, confessed that she did not
want guests unless she could “entertain them handsomely.”
To obviate the first-mentioned difficulty, every housekeeper should,
when engaging a servant, declare boldly that she receives her friends
at will, in her home, and have that fact understood from the outset of
Bridget’s or Gretchen’s career with her. At the same time she should
remember that extra work should mean extra pay or its equivalent in
help. It is astonishing how inconsiderate many women, otherwise kindly,
are in their relation to domestic servants.
As to the reason given by the fourth housekeeper, it is too
contemptible to be considered by a sensible woman. Our guests come
to see us for ourselves, not for the beauty of our houses, or for
the elegance of our manner of living. The woman whose house is clean
and furnished as her means permit, who sets her table with the best
that she can provide for her own dear ones, is always prepared for
company. There may be times when the unlooked-for coming of a guest
is an inconvenience. It should never be the cause of a moment’s
mortification. Only pretense, and seeming to be what one is not, need
cause a sensation of shame. If a friend comes, put another plate at the
table, and take him into the sanctum sanctorum—the home. With such a
welcome the simplest home is dignified.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: MEETING THE GUEST]
But as to the invited guest. The hostess knows when she wishes to
receive her friend, and, in a cordial invitation, states the exact date
upon which she has decided, giving the hour of the arrival of trains,
and saying that she or some member of her family will meet the guest at
the station. One who has ever arrived at a strange locality, “unmet,”
knows the peculiar sinking of heart caused by the neglect of this
simple duty on the part of the hostess.
The letter of invitation should also state how long the visitor is
expected to stay. This may be easily done by writing—“Will you come to
us on the twenty-first and stay for a week?” or, “We want you to make
us a fortnight’s visit, coming on the fifteenth.” If one can honestly
add to an invitation, “We hope that you may be able to extend the time
set, as we want to keep you as long as possible,” it may be done. If
not meant, the insincere phrase is inexcusable.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: THE GUEST CHAMBER]
Elaborate preparations should be avoided—preparations that weary the
hostess and try the tempers of servants. The guest-chamber will be
clean, sweet and dainty. No matter how competent a chambermaid is, the
mistress must see for herself that sheets, pillow-slips and towels
are spotless, and that there are no dusty corners in the room. A
trustworthy thermometer should hang in full view, that the guest may
regulate by it the temperature of her room. If the visitor be a woman,
and flowers are in season, a vase of favorite blossoms will be placed
on the dressing-table. The desk or writing-table will be supplied with
paper, envelopes, pens, ink, stamps and a calendar. Several interesting
novels or magazines should be within reach. All these trifles add to
the home-like feeling of the new arrival.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: LET YOUR GUEST ALONE]
A welcome should be cordial and honest. A hostess should take time to
warm her guest’s heart by telling her that she is glad, genuinely glad,
to have her in her home. She should also do all she can to make the
visitor forget that she is away from her own house.
All this done, the guest should be _let alone_! We mean this, strange
as it may seem. Many well-meaning hostesses annoy guests by following
them up and by insisting that they shall be “doing something” all the
time. This is almost as wearing and depressing as neglect would be.
Each person wants to be alone a part of the time. A visitor is no
exception to this rule. She has letters to write, or an interesting
book she wants to read, or, if she needs the rest and change her visit
should bring her, it will be luxury to her to don a kimono and relax
on the couch or bed in her room for an hour or two a day. The thought
that one’s hostess is noting and wondering at one’s absence from the
drawing-room, where one is expected to be on exhibition, is to a
nervous person akin to torture.
Allow all possible freedom as to the hour for rising, provide a certain
amount of entertainment for the visitor in the way of outdoor exercise
(if she likes it), callers, amusements and so forth, and then (again)
in plain English, let her alone!
* * * * *
One must never insist that a guest remain beyond the time set for
her return, if the guest declares sincerely that to remain longer is
inadvisable. To speed the parting guest is an item of true hospitality.
The hostess may beg her to stay when she feels that the visitor can
conveniently do so, and when her manner shows that she desires to do
so. But when the suggestion has been firmly and gratefully declined,
the matter should be dropped. A guest who feels that she must return
to her home for business, family or private reasons, is embarrassed
by the insistence on the part of her entertainers that such return is
unnecessary.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: A GUEST’S EXPENSES]
Of course, the visitor in one’s house should be spared all possible
expense. The porter who brings the trunk should be paid by the host,
unless the guest forestalls him in his hospitable intention. Car-fares,
hack-hire and such things, are paid by the members of the family
visited. All these things should be done so unobtrusively as to escape,
if possible, the notice of the person entertained.
If a woman have two maids, the second maid should, shortly before the
retiring hour, go to the guest’s room, turn down the covers of the bed
and provide a pitcher of fresh drinking-water. In the event of having
one maid only, the hostess will perform these offices herself.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: TRUE HOSPITALITY]
No matter what happens—should there be illness and even death in the
family—a hospitable person will not allow the stranger within her gates
to feel that she is in the way, or her presence an inconvenience.
There is no greater cruelty than that of allowing a guest in the home
to feel that matters would run more smoothly were she absent. Only
better breeding on the part of the visitor than is possessed by her
hostess will prevent her leaving the house and returning to her home.
Should sudden illness in the family occur, the considerate person
will leave. But this must be permitted only under protest. To invite
a friend to one’s house, and then seem to find her presence unwelcome
is only a degree less cruel than confining a bird in a cage, where
he can not forage for himself, and slowly starving him. If one has
not the hospitable instinct developed strongly enough to feel the
right sentiment, let him feign it, or refuse to attempt to entertain
friends. The person under one’s roof should be, for the time, sacred,
and the host who does not feel this is altogether lacking in the finer
instincts that accompany good breeding.
We know one home in which hospitality is dispensed in a way no guest
ever forgets. From the time the visitor enters the doors of this House
Beautiful she is, as it were, enwrapped in an atmosphere of loving
consideration impossible to describe. One guest, visiting there with
her children, was horrified at their being taken suddenly ill with
grippe,—so ill that to travel with them just then was dangerous. She
was hundreds of miles away from home with the possibility of the
children’s being confined to the house for some days to come. The
physician summoned confirmed her fears. The distressed mother knew only
too well what an inconvenience illness is,—especially in a friend’s
house instead of in one’s own home.
[Sidenote: AN IDEAL HOSTESS]
All the members of the household united in making the disconcerted
woman feel that this home was the one and only place in which the
little ones should have been seized with the prevailing epidemic; that
it was a pleasure to have them there under any circumstances; that
to wait on them and their mother was a privilege. The sweet-voiced,
sweet-faced hostess, herself an invalid at this time, drew the anxious
visitor down on the bed beside her and kissed her as she said:
“Dear child! try to believe that you and yours are as welcome here as
in your own dear mother’s home.”
Surely of such is the Kingdom of Heaven!