Part 3

Etiquette requires that we shall treat all people with equal courtesy, given the same conditions. It has a tendency to ignore the individuality of people. We may not slight one man simply because we do not like him, nor may we publicly exhibit extreme preference for the one whom we do like. In both cases the rebel against the restraints of social mice shouts the charge of "insincerity." Well, perhaps some of the impulses of sincerity are better held in check; they are too closely allied to the humoring of our cherished prejudices. If "tact consists in knowing what not to say," etiquette consists in knowing what not to do in the direction of manifesting our impulsive likes and dislikes.

Besides, etiquette is not so much a manifestation toward others as it is an exponent of ourselves. We are courteous to others, first of all, because such behavior only is consistent with our own claim to be well-bred.

Bearing this in mind we can behave with serenity in the presence of our most aggravating foe; his worst manifestation of himself fails to provoke us to retort in kind. We treat him politely, not because he deserves it, but because we owe it to ourselves to be gentle-mannered. Etiquette begins at self. There is no worthy deference to others that does not rest on the basis of self-respect.

"To thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

It is a superficial judgment that descries nothing but insincerity in the unvarying suavity of a well-bred manner; that regards the conventional code of behavior as merely a device for rendering social life artificial. The raison d'etre is always to be found in the established rules of etiquette; and probably the most exacting and seemingly unnecessary of formalities has its foundation in some good common sense principle not far removed in spirit from "the rule golden."

In short, manners and morals are twin shoots from the same root. The essentially well-bred man is he whose manners are the polite expression of moral principle, magnanimity, and benevolence.

VISITING CARDS

THE OFFICE OF THE VISITING CARD

The personal, or visiting, card is the representative of the individual whose name it bears. It goes where he himself would be entitled to appear, and in his absence it is equivalent to his presence. It is his "double," delegated to fill all social spaces which his variously-occupied life would otherwise compel him to leave vacant.

Since the card is to be received as the equivalent of one's self, it is important that it shall be discreetly sent upon its embassy. In every case where personal cards are correctly used the owner is accredited with having performed de facto whatever the card expresses for him, be it a "call," a "regret," a "congratulation," an "apology," an "introduction," a "farewell-taking," or whatever.

The rules guiding the uses of visiting cards are based upon this idea of representation. The deputy is on duty only in the absence of his superior, so the card is usually superfluous when the owner himself is present.

A card sent at a wrong time suggests the possibility that the owner might blunder similarly in his personal appearing. The neglect to send a card at a proper time is equivalent to a personal neglect. The man who comes himself and hands you his card also is apt to have too many elbows at a dinner, too many feet at a ball. He has about him a suggestion of awkward superfluousness that is subtly consistent with his duplicate announcement of himself.

For want of the much-needed genderless singular pronoun I have been using the masculine form; but upon reflection I remember that it is the women of society who have the most diverse responsibility in the management of personal cards, their duties extending even to the care and oversight of the cards of their socially careless and negligent male relatives. But no matter who attends to the proprieties, the relation of the card to its owner is the same in all cases. If his card blunders, he gets the discredit of it. If his card always flutters gracefully into the salver at exactly the right time and place, the glory is all his own, even though his tireless wife or mother or sister has done all the hard thinking bestowed on the matter. Happy the man allied by the ties of close kindred to a gifted society woman, for lo! his cards shall never be found missing, wherever he may stray.

STYLE OF CARDS

The prevailing shape of cards for women is nearly square (about 2 1/2 x 3 inches). A fine dull-finished card-board of medium weight and stiffness is used.

A man's card is smaller, and narrower proportionately; and is of slightly heavier card-board.

The color is pearl white, not cream. Tinted cards are not admissible.

The engraving is plain script, or elaborate text; as the fashion may for the time decree.

The responsibility of furnishing the correct style of card rests with the engraver, whose business it is to know the ruling fashion of the day. Any one may have an elegant card by intrusting the choice to a first-class stationer. But it is not half the battle to secure an elegant card. An elegant use of the card distinguishes the well-informed in social usage. This distinction shows when the distribution of cards begins.

THE ENGRAVING OF VISITING CARDS

CARDS FOR MEN

If the surname is short, the full name may be engraved. If the names are long, and the space does not admit of their full extension, the initials of given names may be used. The former style is preferred, when practicable.

In the absence of any special title properly accompanying the name--as "Rev.," "Dr.," "Col.," etc.,--"Mr." is always prefixed. Good form requires this on an engraved card. If in any emergency a man writes his own name on a card he does not prefix "Mr."

What titles may properly be used on a man's visiting-card? The distinctions made in the use of titles seem arbitrary unless some reason can be discovered.

The rule should be, to omit from visiting-cards all titles that signify transient offices, or occupations not related to social life; using such titles only as indicate a rank or profession that is for life; and which has become a part of the man's identity, or which is distinctly allied to his social conditions.

To illustrate:--The rank of an officer in the army or the navy should be indicated by title on his card, his connection with the service being for life, and a part of his identity. His personal card is engraved thus: "General Schofield"--the title in full when only the surname is used; or, "Gen. Winfield Scott," "Gen. W. S. Hancock"--the title abbreviated when the given names, or their initials, are used. The first style is appropriate to the Commander-in-chief, or the senior officer; or in any case where no other officer of the same name and rank is on the roster.

Officers on the retired list, and veteran officers of the late war who rose from the volunteer ranks, retain their titles by courtesy. And very appropriately so, since the war record of many a gallant soldier is inseparable from the man himself, in the minds of his fellow-citizens. He may have retired to private life again, but his distinguished services have outlived the brief hour of action; and his hero-worshiping countrymen will always recognize him in his most salient character, "every inch a soldier." It is quite impossible to call him "Mr.," or at once to know who is meant if his card reads--for instance--"Mr. Lucius Fairchild." Nothing but the title of his well-earned rank gives an adequate idea of the man.

The official cards of political officers and ambassadors, which bear the title and office of the man--with or without his name--should be used only on official or State occasions, and during the term of office. When the incumbent "steps down and out," this card is also "relegated." His friends may continue to greet him as "Governor," but he no longer uses the title himself. In strictly social life, the personal card of the ex-Governor is like that of any other private citizen, subject to the same rules.