"There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot
be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at
his ease."
--Washington Irving.
Were we to look up the meaning of the word hospitality in the dictionary,
we would find it defined as the act of receiving and entertaining guests
kindly, generously, and gratuitously, without expectation of reward.
According to such a definition, much that passes for hospitality in the
social realm does not deserve the name. Society is a give-and-take
arrangement, somewhat resembling the gift exchange we practise at
Christmas. If you do not give you do not get; if you do not entertain you
are not invited, unless it is understood that circumstances prevent your
doing so. Then one is asked for what one can contribute in the way of good
company, promotion of gayety, and the like. One "pays her way" by being
agreeable, well gowned, popular. Thus, in a way, much social hospitality
is merely social bargaining. The woman who feels indebted to her
circle--or circles, for these impinge upon each other--gives a large
reception or "at home." She can seldom do more than welcome the coming and
speed the parting guest. Her greeting is "So delighted to see you here;"
her farewell, "Good-bye; so glad you were able to come." Her guests have
greeted each other in much the same casual fashion, have had some
refreshments warranted to destroy their appetite for dinner; have shown a
handsome gown and hat--and perhaps had the former injured in the crush.
One is reminded of Bunthorne's "Hollow! Hollow! Hollow!!"
Real Hospitality.--Quite different is this from what we offer when we
invite our friends to visit us. Here is genuine hospitality--the receiving
and entertaining gratuitously those whose companionship we enjoy. One of
the chief joys of having one's own home is the pleasure of being able to
welcome one's friends and afford them the privilege of enjoying it also.
An invitation of this kind means we are willing to incommode ourselves,
incur expense, and give a measure of our time to the entertainment of
those of our friends whose society we wish to enjoy familiarly. Thus it
seems that an invitation to visit a friend in her home is a compliment of
no mean order, although Nicole says: "'Visits are for the most part
neither more nor less than inventions for discharging upon our neighbors
somewhat of our own unendurable weight."
[MANNERS AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS 709]
Short Visits.--Visits are of much shorter duration than in those "old
times" people talk about so enthusiastically--and would find so tiresome
were they to return again. Then visitors stayed week after week; were
urged to remain longer when they proposed departure. The story goes of a
Virginia planter who invited an old war-time friend to visit him. At the
end of a month the major proposed departure. His host objected so
strenuously that he agreed to stay another month. And so it went on, the
guest regularly proposing to leave, the host hospitably insisting on his
remaining, until in the end the old veteran died in and was buried from
his friend's house. This, however, is an example not to be emulated in
these less hospitable days.
There is a saying, "Short visits make long friends," that is worth
consideration by those who visit. Probably the truth of the saying has
been so often attested that it has given rise to the custom of specifying
the date of arrival and departure of a guest when giving the invitation.
It has become to be understood that the vague, indefinite invitation "Do
come and see us sometime," means nothing. No one would think for a moment
of taking it in good faith. If the giver wishes to entertain her friend
she will ask if it will be convenient for her to visit her at a certain
specified date. Nothing less counts. An understanding of this might save
the unexperienced from the awkwardness of making an unwelcome visit.
The Unexpected Visit.--Nothing is worse form than "the surprise visit."
Generally you do surprise your hostess and very often most disagreeably. A
housekeeper does not enjoy an intrusion--for such it is--of that kind any
more than you would be pleased to have a chance caller rush unannounced
into your private rooms. Even among relatives and the most intimate
friends, there is nothing to justify the unexpected arrival. Nothing so
strikes terror to a woman's soul as the thud of trunks on the piazza and
the crunch of wheels on the gravel, meaning someone has "come to stay."
Such an arrival is a piece of presumption on the part of the visitor. She
assumes she will be welcome at any time she chooses to present herself.
This may be true; but at the same time there is an obligation of courtesy
which requires her to consult her friend's convenience. Instead, she
consults her own and utterly ignores that of her hostess, who is thus
forced into entertaining her.
[710 MOTHERS' REMEDIES]
The Inopportune Arrival.--Many awkward and sometimes amusing anecdotes are
told in connection with the inopportune visit. Thus not long ago the
newspapers chronicled the plight of a woman who undertook to surprise an
acquaintance from whom she had not heard for several years. She was driven
to their house and dismissed the carriage. A strange face met her at the
door, and she learned that her friend had removed to another city nearly a
twelvemonth before. "Served her right" will be everybody's verdict.
Suppose one arrives unexpectedly and finds the friend's house full of
other and invited company. Then, if ever, she ought to feel herself "a
rank outsider." If she is tactless enough not to give notice of her
intended arrival, she probably has not the good sense to depart as quickly
as possible. The man of the house may have to sleep on the parlor sofa, or
the children on the floor, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred the
whole family will wish her in Halifax.
Or she may arrive to find some member of the family ill, or house-cleaning
or repairing in progress, or the house in the hands of the decorators.
Indeed, so many unforeseen accidents may occur to make her visit an
unpleasant memory, both to herself and her hostess, that only the most
selfish and inconsiderate of women will so violate the social conventions
as to make "surprise visits."
Visits That Save Expense.--Something equally reprehensible is the visit we
pay to a friend in town where we have business or desire a pleasure trip,
and do not propose to have it cost us much of anything. We force
hospitality on our acquaintances in order to save hotel bills. They know
it, and they feel about it just exactly as we would in their places--that
is, that it is an imposition on good nature and a mean and selfish thing
to do.
"We gave up our house and went to boarding simply because my health and my
husband's salary were inadequate to the demands made upon them by our
out-of-town relatives and acquaintances, who used us as a restaurant and
hotel. There was seldom a week when we did not give ten or twelve meals
and two or three nights lodging to people better able to pay for them than
we were to furnish them. So we gave up housekeeping." This is an actual
experience.