The number of questions asked by correspondents on the subject of
the proper use of the familiar words _lady_ and _woman_, and of the
titles of married women, induces the reflection that the "woman"
question is one which rivals in universal interest those of
Nihilism, Irish rebellion, and the future presidency. It is not,
however, of ultimate importance to a woman what she is called, as
arose by any other name would smell as sweet, but it _is_ of
importance to those who speak _of_ her, because by their speech
"shall ye know them," whether fashionable or unfashionable, whether
old or young, whether welt-bred or ill-bred, whether stylish or
hopelessly _rococo_!
Nothing, for instance, Can be in worse taste than to say "she is a
beautiful lady," or "a clever lady." One should always say
"beautiful _woman_," "clever _woman_." The would-be genteel make
this mistake constantly, and in the Rosa-Matilda style of novel the
gentleman always kneels to the lady, and the fair ladies are
scattered broadcast through the book, while the fine old Saxon word
"woman" is left out, or not properly used.
Now it would be easy enough to correct this if we could only tell
our correspondents always to use the word "woman." But unfortunately
we are here constrained to say that would be equally "bad form." No
gentleman would say, "I am travelling with women." He would say, "I
am travelling with ladies." He would not say, "When I want to take
my women to the theatre." He would say, "When I want to take my
ladies." He would speak of his daughters as "young ladies," etc.,
etc. But if he were writing a novel about these same young ladies,
he would avoid the word "lady" as feeble, and in speaking of
emotions, looks, qualities, etc., he would use the word "woman."
Therefore, as a grand generic distinction, we can say that "woman"
should be used when the realities of life and character are treated
of. "Lady" should be used to express the outside characteristics,
the conditions of cultivated society, and the respectful, distant,
and chivalric etiquette which society claims for women when members
thereof.
Then, our querist may ask, Why is the term, "she is a beautiful
_lady_," so hopelessly out of style? Why does it betray that the
speaker has not lived in a fashionable set? Why must we say "nice
woman," "clever woman," "beautiful woman," etc.
The only answer to this is that the latter phraseology is a caprice
of fashion into which plain-spoken people were driven by the
affectations of the shabby-genteel and half-instructed persons who
have ruined two good words for us by misapplication. One is
"genteel," which means gentle, and the other is "lady," which means
everything which is refined, cultivated, elegant, and aristocratic.
Then as to the term "woman," this nomenclature has been much
affected by the universal _sans-culottism_ of the French Revolution,
when the queen was called _citoyenne_. Much, again, from a different
cause, comes from our own absurd want of self-respect, which has
accrued in this confusion of etiquette in a republic, as for
instance, "I am a lady--as much a lady as anybody--and I want to be
called a lady," remarked a nurse who came for a situation to the
wife of one of our presidents. "I have just engaged a colored _lady_
as a cook," remarked a _nouveau riche_. No wonder that when the word
came to be thus misapplied the lover of good English undefiled began
to associate the word "lady" with pretension, ignorance, and bad
grammar.
Still, no "real lady" would say to her nurse, "A woman is coming to
stay with me." To servants the term "lady," as applied to a coming
guest, is indispensable. So of a gentleman she would say to her
servant, "A gentleman is coming to stay here for a week;" but to her
husband or son she would say, "He is a clever man," rather than, "He
is a clever gentleman."
We might almost say that no women talk to men about "gentlemen," and
no men talk to women about "ladies," in fashionable society. A woman
in good society speaks of the hunting men, the dancing men, the
talking men. She does not say "gentleman," unless in some such
connection as this, "No gentleman would do such a thing," if some
breach of etiquette had occurred. And yet no man would come into a
lady's drawing-room saying, "Where are the girls?" or "Where are the
women?" He would Say; "Where are the young ladies?"
It therefore requires a fine ear and a fine sense of modern fashion
and of eternal propriety always to choose the right word in the
delicate and almost unsettled estate of these two epithets.
"Ladylike" can never go out of fashion. It is at once a compliment
of the highest order and a suggestion of subtle perfection. The word
"woman" does not reach up to this, because in its broad and strong
etymology it may mean a washer-woman, a fighting woman, a coarse
woman, alas! a drunken woman. If we hear of "a drunken lady," we see
a downfall, a glimpse of better days; chloral, opium, even cologne,
may have brought her to it. The word still saves her miserable
reputation a little. But the words "a drunken woman" merely suggest
whiskey, degradation, squalor, dirt, and the tenement-house.
It is evident, therefore, that we cannot do without the word "lady."
It is the outgrowth of years of chivalric devotion, and of that
progress in the history of woman which has ever been raising her
from her low estate. To the Christian religion first does she owe
her rise; to the institution of chivalry, to the growth of
civilization since, has woman owed her continual elevation. She can
never go back to the degradation of those days when, in Greece and
Rome, she was not allowed to eat with her husband and sons. She
waited on them as a servant. Now they in every country serve her, if
they are _gentlemen_. But, owing to a curious twist in the way of
looking at things, she is now undoubtedly the tyrant, and in
fashionable society she is often imperiously ill-bred, and requires
that her male slaves be in a state of servitude to which the
Egyptian bondage would have been light frivolity.
American women are said to be faulty in manners, particularly in
places of public amusement, in railway travelling, in omnibuses, and
in shops. Men complain very much that the fairer sex are very brutal
on these occasions. "I wish _women_ would behave like _ladies_,"
said a man at a _matine_. "Yes," said his friend, "I wish they
would behave like _men_." Just then a sharp feminine elbow was
thrust into his chest. "I wish _gentlemen_ would not crowd so," was
the remark which accompanied the "dig under the fifth rib" from a
person whom no one could call a lady.
In speaking to a servant, either a lady or a gentleman will ever be
patient, courteous, kind, not presuming on his or her power. But
there should always be a certain ceremony observed, and a term of
respect to the person spoken of. Therefore a mistress will not say
"Have the _girls_ come in?" "Is _Lucy_ home?" She will say: "Have
the young ladies come in?" "Is Miss Lucy at home?" This sort of
dignified etiquette has the happiest and the most beneficial result
on the relations of mistress and servant.
In modern literature the terms man and woman have nearly obliterated
the words gentleman and lady, and we can hardly imagine a more
absurd phrase than the following: "I asked Mary what she thought of
Charles, and she said he was a beautiful gentleman, and Charles said
that Mary was a lovely lady; so it was quite natural that I should
try to bring them together," etc., etc.
Still, in poetry we like the word lady. "If my lady loves me true,"
is much better than "if my woman loves me true" would be; so there,
again, we have the contradiction, for the Anglo-Saxon rule of using
the word "woman" when anything real or sincere in emotion is in
question is here honored in the breach. But this is one of the many
shadowy conflicts which complicate this subject.
The term "lady" is like the word "gentry" in England--it is elastic.
All persons coming within the category of "gentry" may attend the
Queen's Drawing-room, yet it is well understood that birth, wealth,
association, and position give the _raison d'tre_ for the use of
such a privilege, and in that carefully guarded English society the
wife or daughters of an officer in the navy or in a line regiment
whose means are slender and whose position is obscure would not be
justified in presenting themselves at court. The same remark holds
good of the wives and daughters of clergymen, barristers, doctors,
authors, and artists, although the husband, if eminent, might attend
a leve if he wished. Yet these women are very tenacious of the
title of lady, and no tradesman's wife would deny it to them, while
she would not, if ever so rich, aspire to be called a lady herself.
"I ain't no lady myself, but I can afford to have 'em as
governesses," remarked a Mrs. Kicklebury on the Rhine. She was not
at all ashamed of the fact that she was no lady herself, yet her
compeer and equal in America, if she kept a gin-shop, would insist
upon the title of lady.
A lady is a person of refinement, of education, of fashion, of
birth, of prestige, of a higher grade of some sort, if we apply the
term rightly. She may be out of place through loss of fortune, or
she may have sullied her title, but a something tells us that she is
still a lady. We have a habit of saying, as some person, perhaps
well decked out with fortune's favors, passes us, "She is not a
lady," and every one will know what we mean. The phrase "vulgar
lady," therefore, is an absurdity; there is no such thing; as well
talk of a white blackbird; the term is self-contradictory. If she is
vulgar, she is not a lady; but there is such a thing as a vulgar
woman, and it is a very real thing.
In England they have many terms to express the word "woman" which we
have not. A traveller in the rural districts speaks of a "kindly old
wife who received me," or a "wretched old crone," or a "saucy
lassie," or a "neat maid," etc. We should use the word "woman," or
"old woman," or "girl," for all these.
Now as to the term "old woman" or "old lady." The latter has a
pretty sound. We see the soft white curls, so like floss silk, the
delicate white camel's-hair shawl, the soft lace and appropriate
black satin gown, the pretty old-fashioned manner, and we see that
this is a _real_ lady. She may have her tricks of old-fashioned
speech; they do not offend us. To be sure, she has no slang; she
does not talk about "awfully jolly," or a "ghastly way off;" she
does not talk of the boys as being a "bully lot," or the girls as
being "beastly fine;" she does not say that she is "feeling rather
seedy to-day," etc. No, "our old lady" is a "lady," and it would be
in bad taste to call her an "old woman," which somehow sounds
disrespectful.
Therefore we must, while begging of our correspondents to use the
word "woman" whenever they can, tell them not entirely to drop the
word "lady." The real lady or gentleman is very much known by the
voice, the choice of words, the appropriate term. Nothing can be
better than to err on the side of simplicity, which is always better
than gush, or over-effort, or conceit of speech. One may be
"ignorant of the shibboleth of a good set," yet speak most excellent
English.
Thackeray said of George the Fourth that there was only one reason
why he should not have been called the "first gentleman in Europe,"
and that was because he was not a gentleman. But of the young Duke
of Albany, just deceased, no one could hesitate to speak as a
gentleman. Therefore, while we see that birth does not always make a
gentleman, we still get the idea that it may help to make one, as we
do not readily connect the idea with Jeames, who was a "gentleman's
gentleman." He might have been "fine," but not "noble."
As for titles for married women, we have only the one word, "Mrs.,"
not even the pretty French "Madame." But no woman should write
herself "Mrs." on her checks or at the foot of her notes; nowhere
but in a hotel register or on a card should she give herself this
title, simple though it be. She is always, if she writes in the
first person, "Mary Smith," even to a person she does not know. This
seems to trouble some people, who ask, "How will such a person know
I am married?" Why should they? If desirous of informing some
distant servant or other person of that fact, add in a parenthesis
beneath "Mary Smith" the important addenda, "Mrs. John Smith."
When women are allowed to vote, perhaps further complications may
arise. The truth is, women have no real names. They simply are
called by the name of father or husband, and if they marry several
times may well begin to doubt their own identity. Happy those who
never have to sign but one new name to their letters!