One of the peculiar permissions of "good form" is that which allows a
man to delegate the distribution of his visiting-cards to a near female
relative, whenever it becomes impracticable for him to attend to the
matter personally. Only the women of his own household, or a relative
with whom he habitually pays visits, can thus represent a man by proxy.
In this country, where most society men--certainly the better
element--are "business men," whose days are filled with earnest work
and crowned with the achievements of industry, it is not to be expected
that men of affairs will always be ready to respond to social
invitations, or to pay all the calls of civility which fashion decrees
shall be paid during the hours usually devoted to business. In theory,
each man and woman in society is supposed to attend to his or her own
social duties. _While it is expected that a man will make all
reasonable effort to do this, and that he will not altogether neglect
it_, still, so long as he occasionally appears personally, with a
genial demeanor that proves the sincerity of his "good intentions," it
will be accepted in good part if, in a large number of instances, his
card, instead of himself, appears, brought by another hand. But let
men remember that the "good excuse" must be obvious. Any suspicion of
indifference robs the proxy card-leaving of all effect as a compliment.
In case a man is legitimately prevented, by business cares, from paying
calls or leaving his cards in person, it is proper for his wife or
mother or sister, or other near relative, to leave or send his card
with her own. When a woman calls upon another woman she leaves her
husband's card. If the hostess is married, a second card is left for
the host. She may leave the cards of a son, a brother, or other
relative, if such responsibility rests upon her. This formality should
be observed when paying the first call of the season.
While every well-informed woman should know that it is her place to
leave her husband's cards for him, it is a fact that many women,
otherwise attentive to social forms, habitually neglect this particular
duty. The result is that the man who has not time to pay visits
becomes a social nonentity, and society, in some circles, is simply a
"world of women." Why does the husband, thus neglected, get out of
going to the occasional party whenever he can, and when he does allow
himself to be dragged thither, why does he sulk, leaning against a
chilly mantel-piece, eying his fragile coffee cup with disdain, and
enacting the _role_ of martyr generally, until he can persuade his wife
to go home again? Why, indeed; but because he feels out of place. His
rare and incidental appearance is a journey into a far country, of
which he has little knowledge, and in which he has no interest. But
when a man goes--ever so seldom--where he knows that his card
_habitually_ goes, he feels that he is on familiar ground, and he will
go in person, of choice, oftener than he otherwise would.
Some men, unaccustomed to exact social observances, would ridicule the
idea at first, if their wives should announce the intention of leaving
their husband's cards for them. But, however much a man might demur, a
lurking vanity would develop into complacent satisfaction, as he became
aware of the increasing geniality of the social atmosphere about him;
and the pleasing glow would take the ultimate form of gratitude to his
wife.
That the permission to leave cards by proxy is often abused by selfish
and indolent men is no doubt true. But the social advantage which it
gives to a large class of men who are neither selfish nor indolent more
than counterbalances any disadvantages, and saves to "society" a solid
element that might be entirely given over to business, if it were not
for judicious feminine co-operation in the distribution of
visiting-cards.
"Solid" men would go "into society" far more frequently and with
greater alacrity if they felt assured that the way had been smoothly
paved with their own visiting-cards, well laid in place by the deft
fingers of their skillful women folk, who have left no flaw in the
mosaic of social proprieties.