Part 15

be found, and at what hour he is to pick up his party, before entering the carriage, as policemen view with much disfavour any prolonged dialogue outside a place of entertainment where vehicles are setting down their occupants in quick succession. Should there be a footman, of course all these difficulties are obviated, as he can carry the instructions to the coachman, and also knows where to find the carriage when the performance is over.

Should a hired brougham be used as a conveyance in going to any place of entertainment, or even a party at a private house, it is an excellent plan to give the coachman a bright-coloured handkerchief, scarlet or orange perhaps, that he may wear it conspicuously displayed, and can in this way be at once recognised.

It is a miserable business on a wet night to hunt for a brougham up and down ill-lighted streets when in evening dress and patent leather boots, and anything that tends to shorten the task is advisable. Nor do ladies enjoy waiting in the draughty vestibule of opera-house, theatre, or concert-room for an indefinite period while a short-sighted cavalier is groping about the streets for their carriage.

If it is a question of a cab, the commissionaire at the door is the best person to get one, which he will do for a small fee.

Here again a word of warning is needed. There are men who, in their special care of the ladies in their charge, forget that it is no part of the duty of a gentleman to ignore the claims of other women who have not the advantage of belonging to their party.

I have seen men who ought to have known better rudely pushing other ladies away from the door of a cab or railway carriage in order that their own womenkind may be well looked after. It is all very well to be attentive and anxious to do one’s best, but it is ill-bred to the last degree to subject to rudeness any ladies who happen to be without a gentleman to look after them.

Retribution followed very swiftly in one instance of the kind. At Sandown station one day the second special train for Waterloo was coming in, and the platform was crowded with gaily-dressed women, tired and hot after the walk across the fields on a tropical July day. A lady and small Eton boy were together, and suddenly, when about to open the door of a carriage at the moment the train came to a standstill, found themselves all but thrown down by a sweeping motion of the arm of a young man who was bent on reserving that particular carriage for his party. Without a word of apology to the lady, he shouted to his sisters and friends to “Come on,” still holding back the two who had wished to get in. They entered the next compartment, and as they did so the lady remarked to her companion, “What an extremely ill-mannered person that is!” Meanwhile the party next door were settling down and congratulating themselves on having secured seats, when one of them turned to their over-zealous friend and remarked, “I saw Lady Blank get into the next carriage with her eldest boy.” “Who?” he asked, with a sudden and remarkable rush of colour on his face. The lady to whom he had behaved so rudely turned out to be one from whom he had that very morning received a long-desired invitation to spend a few days at her country house in the following month. This he owed to the good offices of a friend in the F. O., and, delighted at having made such a step in his social career, he had at once written off accepting the invitation. It is scarcely necessary to add that he never made the visit, but had to wire at the last moment one of those conventional excuses that the “unco guid” call fibs, but which are only the transparent devices adopted by society to lubricate some of the more difficult of its processes.

Between the acts of a play the modern man thinks it his duty to himself to go out and have a drink, perhaps smoke a cigarette.

There was a time when, had any such suggestion been made to a gentleman who had constituted himself the escort of a lady, he would have asked, though perhaps not in Milton’s words--

“And leave thy fair side all unguarded, lady?”

But now the majority of young men visit the bar or the foyer.

But who shall say what golden opinions are won by those who do not follow the custom, who refrain from acquiring the odour of tobacco, or whiskey, or brandy while they are in the company of ladies in the heated atmosphere of a theatre? A lady sometimes says to the men of her party, “I see that there is a general stampede going on. Don’t mind me if you would like to go out.” If they go she thinks, “Oh, they are just like the rest.” If they stay she says to her own heart, “How delightful it is to find a man who can do without a B.-and-S. or a smoke for two or three hours!” and up he goes many pegs in her estimation.

Apart from the lady he is with and considerations connected with her, there is the inconvenience to which many of the audience are subjected by the passing in and out of so many. However, it is a recognised custom, so much so that a smoking foyer is attached to all the best theatres, and a warning bell is rung in it by the management a few minutes before the rising of the curtain.

Refreshments are frequently carried round by attendants to private boxes, and sometimes in the stalls as well. Should they appear, it is the duty of the gentleman of the party to ask the lady or ladies if they wish for any, and to pay for what is consumed. It is, however, a rare thing for ladies to eat or drink at the play. The gentleman also pays for the programme at the few theatres where a charge is made.

I may mention, by the way, that it is not considered very good form to pay for programmes at theatres where the management makes no charge. Instances have been known where attendants have been discharged for accepting such fees; and even apart from this, it is tantamount to presenting the attendant with sixpence or a shilling if one insists on paying for a programme or two provided free of charge. Many of the attendants are superior to accepting it.

AT A BALL.

The etiquette of the ball-room is not difficult to acquire, and yet there are thousands of young men going into society constantly who flagrantly fail in it. Their bad manners are conspicuous. They decline to dance unless the prettiest girls in the room are “trotted out” for them, block the doorways, haunt the refreshment-room, and after supper promptly take their leave. Could any course of conduct be in worse taste? And what can a poor hostess do? Young men are necessary at dances, and they must be invited. If they will not dance, who shall make them?

The delight of the average hostess’s heart is the well-bred man, unspoiled by conceit, who can always be depended on to do his duty. He arrives in good time, fills his card before very long, and can be asked to dance with a plain, neglected wallflower or two without resenting it. He takes his partner duly to the refreshment-room after each dance, if she wishes to go, and provides her with whatever she wishes. Before leaving her, he sees her safe at her chaperon’s side. If he should sit out a dance he returns in time to claim his partner for the next, not leaving her till it is half over, as is the wont of some young men.

The truth is that society demands a never-ending series of self-denying actions from those who belong to it, and the more cheerfully these are performed, the more perfect are the manners. What can be more enjoyable than to sit in some cool retreat with a charming girl, enjoying one of those innocent flirtations that do so much to give zest to life? But delightful though it be, the temptation to prolong it must be resisted, if an expectant partner is missing her dance and waiting in the ball-room to be claimed.

It is bad manners to go to a ball unless one is accomplished in the art of dancing. To do so is to take the place of one who may be more expert and therefore in greater request. Consequently, every man who wishes to be a success in society must learn to dance. There are abundant opportunities for doing so at the various dancing “academies,” as they are rather unsuitably entitled, for there is not much about them of the academical, as generally understood.

Private lessons are dearer than the others, but they are really necessary for most men who have not been taught to dance when boys. The whole attention of the teacher should be given during the first three or four. A man has so much to learn in addition to the correct movements of his feet. He must be taught to hold his head up, to grasp his partner gently but firmly, not to tread on her toes or knock his knees against hers, and also how to steer his course and hers in an imaginary crowded room.

Afterwards come the finishing touches, when, perfect in the steps and carriage of the body, the learner is taught to glide gently from foot to foot, regulating his pace as quickly or as slowly as he may wish. At first this seems to be impossible, for the novice is inclined to “rush his fences,” as it were, and he waltzes round the room at breakneck speed, making himself giddy and breathless, and sometimes causing dire catastrophe. A girl finds it difficult to forgive a man who has made her look ridiculous.

The fall of a couple is not a frequent occurrence in a ball-room, but when it does happen it is almost always the man’s fault. Girls take much more naturally to the graceful movements of the dance, and are, besides, more often taught in childhood than their brothers.

At a private ball the guest enters and greets his hostess before speaking to any one else. She shakes hands with him and passes him on to some one to introduce him to partners, perhaps her husband, perhaps her son.

With this beginning he will probably get on very well and may half-fill his card, and he should take care to do so at once, for at some balls the nice girls are immediately snapped up and engaged for even the extras before they have been twenty minutes in the room. “Are you engaged for every dance, Miss Grey? Can you spare me one?” And Miss Grey probably gives him one, but if he is a stranger of whose calisthenic prowess nothing is known, she is careful to give him only one. Sometimes his partners, if they discover that he dances well, introduce him to their sisters and friends. If, however, he should find himself left high and dry towards the end of the evening, he should go back to the gentlemen of the house and ask them to introduce him to somebody else. Young men of experience in such matters usually manage very well without this, but the novice has often to face the alternative of dancing no more or asking to be introduced.

Hostesses sometimes make special introductions for the “supper” dance, the one immediately preceding that meal. This means that the man introduced, unless engaged to dance it with some one else, is imperatively called upon to accept the partner offered him and take her down to supper.

In asking a lady to dance it is usual to say, “Will you give me this waltz?” or “May I have this barn-dance?” Some young men say, “Would you like to dance this? Come along then!” but such a form of address is only suited to intimates.

When the dance is over, and the partner left with her friends, the man says, “Thank you,” bows, and leaves her.