Etiquette For Grown Children
Etiquette for grown children is precisely the same as for grown persons, excepting that in many ways the manners exacted of young people should be more "alert" and punctilious. Young girls (and boys of course) should have the manners of a gentleman rather than those of a lady; in that a gentleman always rises, relinquishes the best seat and walks last into a room, whereas these courtesies are shown to, and not observed by ladies (except to other ladies older than themselves).
In giving parties, young girls send out their invitations as their mothers do, and their deportment is the same as that of their débutante sister. Boys behave as their fathers do, and are equally punctilious in following the code of honor of all gentlemen. The only details, therefore, not likely to be described in other chapters of this book, are a few admonitions on table manners, that are somewhat above "kindergarten" grade.
The Graduating Tests In Table Manners
A young person may be supposed to have graduated from the school of table etiquette when she, or he, would be able to sit at a formal lunch or dinner table and find no difficulty in eating properly any of the comestibles which are supposed to be "hurdles" to the inexpert.
Corn On The Cob
Corn on the cob could be eliminated so far as ever having to eat it in formal company is concerned, since it is never served at a luncheon or a dinner; but, if you insist on eating it at home or in a restaurant, to attack it with as little ferocity as possible, is perhaps the only direction to be given, since at best it is an ungraceful performance and to eat it greedily a horrible sight!
Asparagus
Although asparagus may be taken in the fingers, don't take a long drooping stalk, hold it up in the air and catch the end of it in your mouth like a fish. When the stalks are thin, it is best to cut them in half with the fork, eating the tips like all fork food; the ends may then be taken in the fingers and eaten without a dropping fountain effect! Don't squeeze the stalks, or hold your hand below the end and let the juice run down your arm.
Artichokes are always eaten with the fingers; a leaf at a time is pulled off and the edible end dipped in the sauce, and then bitten off.
Bread And Butter
Bread should always be broken into small pieces with the fingers before being eaten. If it is to be buttered (at lunch, breakfast or supper, but not at dinner) a piece is held on the edge of the bread and butter plate, or the place plate, and enough butter spread on it for a mouthful or two at a time, with a small silver "butter knife." Bread must never be held flat on the palm of the hand and buttered in the air. If the regular steel knife is used, care must be taken not to smear food from the knife's side on the butter. Any food that is smeared about is loathsome. People who have beautiful table manners always keep their places at table neat. People with disgusting manners get everything in a horrible mess.
The Management Of Bones And Pits
Terrapin bones, fish bones and grape seed must be eaten quite bare and clean in the mouth, and removed one at a time between finger and thumb. All spitting out of bones and pits into the plate is disgusting.
If food is too hot, quickly take a swallow of water. On no account spit it out! If food has been taken into your mouth, no matter how you hate it, you have got to swallow it. It is unforgivable to take anything out of your mouth that has been put in it, except dry bones, and stones. To spit anything whatever into the corner of your napkin, is too nauseating to comment on. It is horrid to see any one spit skins or pits on a fork or into the plate. The only way to take anything out of your mouth is between first-finger and thumb. Dry grape seeds or cherry pits can be dropped from the lips into the cupped hand. Peaches or other very juicy fruits are peeled and then eaten with knife and fork, but dry fruits, such as apples, may be cut and then eaten in the fingers. Never wipe hands that have fruit juice on them on a napkin without first using a finger bowl, because fruit juices make indelible stains.
Birds
Birds are not eaten with the fingers in company! You cut off as much of the meat as you can, and leave the rest on your plate.
Forks Or Fingers
All juicy or "gooey" fruits or cakes are best eaten with a fork, but in most cases it is a matter of dexterity. If you are able to eat a peach in your fingers and not smear your face, let juice run down, or make a sucking noise, you are the one in a thousand who may, and with utmost propriety, continue the feat. If you can eat a napoleon or a cream puff and not let the cream ooze out on the far side, you need not use a fork, but if you can not eat something—no matter what it is—without getting it all over your fingers, you must use a fork, and if necessary, a knife also!
All rules of table manners are made to avoid ugliness; to let any one see what you have in your mouth is repulsive; to make a noise is to suggest an animal; to make a mess is disgusting. On the other hand, there are a number of trifling decrees of etiquette that are merely finical, unreasonable, and silly. Why one should not cut one's salad in small pieces if one wants to, makes little sense, unless one wants to cut up a whole plateful and make the plate messy! A steel knife must not be used for salad or fruit, because it turns black. To condemn the American custom of eating a soft-boiled egg in a glass, or cup, because it happens to be the English fashion to scoop it through the ragged edge of the shell, is about as reasonable as though we were to proclaim English manners bad because they tag a breakfast dish, called a "savory" of fish-roe or something equally inappropriate, after the dessert at dinner.
Many other arbitrary rules for eating food with fork, spoon or fingers, are also stumbling-blocks rather than aids to smoothness. As said above, one eats with a fork or spoon "finger-foods" that are messy and sticky; one eats with the finger those which are dry. It is true that one should not eat French fried potatoes or Saratoga chips in fingers, but that is because they belong to the meat course. Separate vegetable saucers are never put on a fashionable table, neither is butter allowed at dinner. Therefore both must be avoided in company, because "company" is formal, and etiquette is first aid always to formality. But if a man in his own house likes butter with his dinner or a saucer for his tomatoes, he is breaking the rule of fashion to have them, but he is scarcely committing an offense! In the same way, if he likes to eat a chicken wing or a squab leg in his fingers he can ask for a finger-bowl. The real objection to eating with the fingers is getting them greasy or sticky, and to suck them or smear one's napkin is equally unsightly.
On The Subject Of Elbows
Although elbows on the table are seen constantly in highest fashionable circles, a whole table's length of elbows planted like clothes-line poles and hands waving glasses or forks about in between, is neither an attractive nor (fortunately) an accurate picture of a fashionable dinner table. As a matter of fact, the tolerated elbow-on-table is used only on occasion and for a reason, and should neither be permitted to children nor practised in their presence.
Elbows are universally seen on tables in restaurants, especially when people are lunching or dining at a small table of two or four, and it is impossible to make oneself heard above the music by one's table companions, and at the same time not be heard at other tables nearby, without leaning far forward. And in leaning forward, a woman's figure makes a more graceful outline supported on her elbows than doubled forward over her hands in her lap as though in pain! At home, when there is no reason for leaning across the table, there is no reason for elbows. And at a dinner of ceremony, elbows on the table are rarely seen, except at the ends of the table, where again one has to lean forward in order to talk to a companion at a distance across the table corner.
Elbows are never put on the table while one is eating. To sit with the left elbow propped on the table while eating with the right hand (unless one is alone and ill), or to prop the right one on the table while lifting the fork or glass to the mouth, must be avoided.
CHAPTER XXXVI
EVERY-DAY MANNERS AT HOME
Just as no chain is stronger than its weakest link, no manners can be expected to stand a strain beyond their daily test at home.
Those who are used to losing their temper in the bosom of their family will sooner or later lose it in public. Families which exert neither courtesy nor charm when alone, can no more deceive other people into believing that either attribute belongs to them than they could hope to make painted faces look like "real" complexions.
A mother should exact precisely the same behavior at home and every day, that she would like her children to display in public, and she herself, if she expects them to take good manners seriously, must show the same manners to them alone that she shows to "company."
A really charming woman exerts her charm nowhere more than upon her husband and children, and a noble nature through daily though unconscious example is of course the greatest influence for good that there is in the world. No preacher, no matter how saint-like his precept or golden his voice, can equal the home influence of admirable parents.
It is not merely in such matters as getting up when their mother or other older relatives enter a room, answering civilly and having good table manners, but in forming habits of admirable living and thinking that a parent's example makes or mars.
If children see temper uncontrolled, hear gossip, uncharitableness and suspicion of neighbors, witness arrogant sharp-dealing or lax honor, their own characters can scarcely escape perversion. In the same way others can not easily fail to be thoroughbred who have never seen or heard their parents do or say an ignoble thing.
No child will ever accept a maxim that is preached but not followed by the preacher. It is a waste of breath for the father to order his Sons to keep their temper, to behave like gentlemen, or to be good sportsmen, if he does or is himself none of these things.
In the present day of rush and hurry, there is little time for "home" example. To the over-busy or gaily fashionable, "home" might as well be a railroad station, and members of a family passengers who see each other only for a few hurried minutes before taking trains in opposite directions. The days are gone when the family sat in the evening around the fire, or a "table with a lamp," when it was customary to read aloud or to talk. Few people "talk well" in these days; fewer read aloud, and fewer still endure listening to any book literally word by word.
Railroad station reading is as much in vogue as railroad station bolting of meals. Magazines—"picture" ones—are all that the hurried have time for, and even those who profess to "love reading" dart tourist-fashion from page to page only pausing at attractive paragraphs; and family relationships are followed somewhat in the same way.
Any number of busy men scarcely know their children at all, and have not even stopped to realize that they seldom or never talk to them, never exert themselves to be sympathetic with them, or in the slightest degree to influence them. To growl "mornin'," or "Don't, Johnny," or "Be quiet, Alice!" is very, very far from being "an influence" on your children's morals, minds or manners.
Home Education
A Supreme Court Justice whose education had been cut short in his youth by the Civil War, when asked how, under the circumstances, his scholastic attainments had been acquired, answered: "My father believed it was the duty of every gentleman to bequeath the wealth of his intellect, no less than that of his pocket, to his children. Wealth might be acquired by 'luck,' but proper cultivation was the birthright of every child born of cultivated parents. We learned Latin and Greek by having him talk and read them to us. He wrote doggerel rhymes of history which took the place of Mother Goose. He also told us 'bed-time stories' of history, and read classics to us after supper. When there was company, we were brought down from the nursery so that we might profit by the conversation of our betters."
Volumes full of "manners" acquired after they are grown are not worth half so much as the simplest precepts acquired through lifelong habits and through having known nothing else.
The Old Gray Wrapper Habit
How many times has one heard some one say: "I won't dress for dinner—no one is coming in." Or, "That old dress will do!" Old clothes! No manners! And what is the result? One wife more wonders why her husband neglects her! Curious how the habit of careless manners and the habit of old clothes go together. If you doubt it, put the question to yourself: "Who could possibly have the manners of a queen in a gray flannel wrapper?" And how many women really lovely and good—especially good—commit esthetic suicide by letting themselves slide down to where they "feel natural" in an old gray flannel wrapper, not only actually but mentally.
The woman of charm in "company" is the woman of fastidiousness at home; she who dresses for her children and "prinks" for her husband's home-coming, is sure to greet them with greater charm than she who thinks whatever she happens to have on is "good enough." Any old thing good enough for those she loves most! Think of it!
A certain very lovely lady whose husband is quite as much her lover as in the days of his courtship, has never in twenty years allowed him to watch the progress of her toilet, because of her determination never to let him see her except at her prettiest. Needless to say, he never meets anything but "prettiest" manners either. No matter how "out of sorts" she may be feeling, his key in the door is a signal for her to "put aside everything that is annoying or depressing," with the result that wild horses couldn't drag his attention from her—all because neither she nor he has ever slumped into the gray flannel wrapper habit.
So many people save up all their troubles to pour on the one they most love, the idea being, seemingly, that no reserves are necessary between lovers. Nor need there be really. But why, when their house looks out upon a garden that has charming vistas, must she insist on his looking into the clothes-yard and the ash-can? She who complains incessantly that this is wrong, or that hurts, or any other thing worries or vexes her, so that his inevitable answer to her greeting is, "I'm so sorry, dear," or "That's too bad," or "Poor darling, it's a shame," is getting mentally into a gray flannel wrapper!
If something is seriously wrong, if she is really ill, that is different. But of the petty things that are only remembered in order to be told to gain sympathy—beware!
There is a big deposit of sympathy in the bank of love, but don't draw out little sums every hour or so—so that by and by, when perhaps you need it badly, it is all drawn out and you yourself don't know how or on what it was spent.
All that has been said to warn a wife from slovenly habits of mind or dress may be adapted to apply with equal force in suggesting a rule for husbands. A man should always remember that a woman's regard for him is founded on her impressions when seeing him at his best. Even granting that she has no great illusions about men in general, he at his best is at least an approximation to her ideal—and it is his chief duty never to fall below the standard he set for himself in making his most cogent appeal. Consequently he should continue through the years to be scrupulous about his personal appearance and his clothes, remembering the adage that the most successful marriages are those in which both parties to the contract succeed in "keeping up the illusion." It is of importance also that he refrain from burdening his wife with the cares and worries of his business day. Many writers insist that the wife should be ready to receive a complete consignment of all his troubles when the husband comes home at the end of the day. It is a sounder practise for him to save her as much as possible from the trials of his business hours; and, incidentally, it is the best kind of mental training for him to put all business cares behind him as he closes the door of his office and goes home. When it is said that a husband should not fling all the day's trifling annoyances into the lap of his wife without reflecting that she may have some cares of her own, there is no intention to indicate that a wife should not have a thorough understanding of her husband's affairs. Complete acquaintance and sympathy with his work is one of the foundation stones of the domestic edifice.
The Family At Table
Whether "there is company" or whether the family is alone, the linen must be as spotless, the silver as clean, and the table as carefully set as though twenty were coming for dinner. Sloppy service is no more to be tolerated every day at home than at a dinner party, and in so far as etiquette is concerned, you should live in exactly the same way whether there is company or none. "Company manners" and "every-day manners" must be identical in service as well as family behavior. You may not be able to afford quantities of flowers in your house and on your table, or perhaps any, but there is no excuse for wilted flowers or an empty vase that merely accentuates your table's flowerlessness. There are plenty of table ornaments that need no flowers. In the same way the compotiers can be filled with candies or conserves of the "everlasting" variety; silver-foiled chocolates or nougat, or gum drops or crystalized ginger or conserved fruits—will keep for months! But the table must be decorated and a certain form observed at the dinner hour; otherwise gray flannel wrapper habits become imminent. Letters, newspapers, books have no place at a dinner table. Reading at table is allowable at breakfast and when eating alone, but a man and his wife should no more read at lunch or dinner before each other or their children than they should allow their children to read before them.
The Table Not A Place For Private Discussion
One very bad habit in many families is the discussion of all of their most intimate affairs at table—entirely forgetting whoever may be waiting on it; and nine times out of ten those serving in the dining-room see no harm (if they feel like it) in repeating what is said. Why should they? It scarcely occurs to them that they were "invisible" and that what was openly talked about at the table was supposed to be a secret!
Apart from the stupidity and imprudence of talking before witnesses, it is bad form to discuss one's private affairs before any one. And it should be unnecessary to add that a man and his wife who quarrel before their children or the servants, deprive the former of good breeding through inheritance, and publish to the latter that they do not belong to the "better class" through any qualification except the possession of a bank account.
Furthermore, parents must never disagree before the children. It simply can't be! Nor can there be an appeal to one parent against the other by a child.
"Father told me to jump down the well!"
"Then you must do it, dear," is the mother's only possible comment. When the child has "jumped down the well," she may pull him out promptly, and she may in private tell her husband what she thinks about his issuing such orders and stand her own ground against them; but so long as parents are living under the same roofs that roof must shelter unity of opinion, so far as any witnesses are concerned.
CHAPTER XXXVII
TRAVELING AT HOME AND ABROAD
To do nothing that can either annoy or offend the sensibilities of others, sums up the principal rules for conduct under all circumstances—whether staying at home or traveling. But in order to do nothing that can annoy or give offense, it is necessary for us to consider the point of view of those with whom we come in contact; and in traveling abroad it is necessary to know something of foreign customs which affect the foreign point of view, if we would be thought a cultivated and charming people instead of an uncivilized and objectionable one. Before going abroad, however, let us first take up the subject of travel at home.
Since it is not likely that any one would go around the world being deliberately offensive to others, it may be taken for granted that obnoxious behavior is either the fault of thoughtlessness or ignorance—and for the former there is no excuse.
On A Railroad Train
On a railroad train you should be careful not to assail the nostrils of fellow passengers with strong odors of any kind. An odor that may seem to you refreshing, may cause others who dislike it and are "poor travelers" to suffer really great distress. There is a combination of banana and the leather smell of a valise containing food, that is to many people an immediate emetic. The smell of a banana or an orange, is in fact to nearly all bad travelers the last straw. In America where there are "diners" on every Pullman train, the food odors are seldom encountered in parlor cars, but in Europe where railroad carriages are small, one fruit enthusiast can make his traveling companions more utterly wretched than perhaps he can imagine. The cigar which is smoldering has, on most women, the same effect. Certain perfumes that are particularly heavy, make others ill. To at least half of an average trainful of people, strong odors of one kind or another are disagreeable if not actually nauseating.
Children On Trains
People with children are most often the food-offenders. Any number not only let small children eat continuously so that the car is filled with food odors, but occasional mothers have been known to let a child with smeary fingers clutch a nearby passenger by the dress or coat and seemingly think it cunning! Those who can afford it, usually take the drawing-room and keep the children in it. Those who are to travel in seats should plan diversions for them ahead of time; since it is unreasonable to expect little children to sit quietly for hours on end by merely telling them to "be good." Two little girls on the train to Washington the other day were crocheting doll's sweaters with balls of worsted in which were wound wrapped and disguised "prizes." The amount of wool covering each might take perhaps a half hour to use up. They were allowed the prize only when the last strand of wool around it was used. They were then occupied for a while with whatever it was—a little book, or a puzzle, or a game. When they grew tired of its novelty, they crocheted again until they came to the next prize. In the end they had also new garments for their dolls.
Ladies Do Not Travel With Escorts
In a curiously naïve book on etiquette appeared a chapter purporting to give advice to a "lady" traveling for an indefinite number of days with a gentleman escort! That any lady could go traveling for days under the protection of a gentleman is at least a novelty in etiquette. As said elsewhere, in fashionable society an "escort" is unheard of, and in decent society a lady doesn't go traveling around the country with a gentleman unless she is outside the pale of society, in which case social convention, at least, is not concerned with her.
Ladies are sometimes accompanied on short, direct trips by gentlemen of their acquaintance, but not for longer than a few hours.
If a lady traveling alone on a long journey, such as a trip across the continent, happens to find a gentleman on board whom she knows, she must not allow him to sit with her in the dining-car more often than a casual once or twice, nor must she allow him to sit with her or talk to her enough to give a possible impression that they are together. In fact she would be more prudent to take her meals by herself, as it is scarcely worth running the risk of other passengers' criticism for the sake of having companionship at a meal or two. If, on a short trip, a gentleman asks a lady, whom he knows, to lunch with him in the dining-car, there is no reason why she shouldn't.
The Young Woman Traveling Alone
In America, a young woman can go across every one of our thousands upon thousands of railed miles without the slightest risk of a disagreeable occurrence if she is herself dignified and reserved. She should be particularly careful if she is young and pretty not to allow strange men to "scrape an acquaintance" with her. If a stranger happens to offer to open a window for her, or get her a chair on the observation platform, it does not give him the right to more than a civil "thank you" from her. If, in spite of etiquette, she should on a long journey drift into conversation with an obviously well-behaved youth, she should remember that talking with him at all is contrary to the proprieties, and that she must be doubly careful to keep him at a formal distance. There is little harm in talking of utterly impersonal subjects—but she should avoid giving him information that is personal.
Every guardian should also warn a young girl that if, when she alights at her destination, her friends fail to meet her, she should on no account accept a stranger's offer, whether man or woman, to drive her to her destination. The safest thing to do is to walk. If it is too far, and there is no "official" taxicab agent belonging to the railroad company, she should go to the ticket seller or some one wearing the railroad uniform and ask him to select a vehicle for her. She should never—above all in a strange city where she does not even know her direction—take a taxi on the street.
Registering In A Hotel
A gentleman writes in the hotel register:
"John Smith, New York."
Under no circumstances "Mr." or "Hon." if he is alone. But if his wife is with him, the prefix to their joint names is correct:
"Mr. and Mrs. John Smith, New York."
He never enters his street and house number. Neither "John Smith and Wife" nor "John Smith and Family" are good form. If he does not like the "Mr." before his name he can sign his own without, on one line, and then write "Mrs. Smith" on the one below. The whole family should be registered:
John T. Smith, | New York |
Mrs. Smith, | " |
and maid | |
(if she has brought one) | |
Miss Margaret Smith, | " |
John T. Smith, Jr., | " |
Baby and nurse, | " |
Or, if the children are young, he writes:
Mr. & Mrs. John T. Smith, New York, 3 children and nurse.
A lady never signs her name without "Miss" or "Mrs." in a hotel register:
"Miss Abigail Titherington" is correct, or "Mrs. John Smith," never "Sarah Smith."
Ladies Alone In American Hotels
If you have never been in a hotel alone but you are of sufficient years, well behaved and dignified in appearance, you need have no fear as to the treatment you will receive. But you should write to the hotel in advance—whether here or in Europe. In this country you register in the office and are shown to your room, or rooms, by a bell-boy—in some hotels by a bell-boy and a maid.
One piece of advice: You will not get good service unless you tip generously. If you do not care for elaborate meals, that is nothing to your discredit; but you should not go to an expensive hotel, hold a table that would otherwise be occupied by others who might order a long dinner, and expect your waiter to be contented with a tip of fifteen cents for your dollar supper! The rule is ten per cent, beginning with a meal costing about three or four dollars. A quarter is the smallest possible tip in a first class hotel. If your meal costs a quarter—you should give the waiter a quarter. If it costs two dollars or more than two dollars, you give thirty or thirty-five cents, and ten per cent on a bigger amount. In smaller hotels tips are less in proportion. Tipping is undoubtedly a bad system, but it happens to be in force, and that being the case, travelers have to pay their share of it—if they like the way made smooth and comfortable.
A lady traveling alone with her maid (or without one), of necessity has her meals alone in her own sitting-room, if she has one. If she goes to the dining-room, she usually takes a book because hotel service seems endless to one used to meals at home and nothing is duller than to sit long alone with nothing to do but look at the tablecloth, which is scarcely diverting, or at other people, which is impolite.
In the days when our great-grandparents went to Europe on a clipper ship carrying at most a score of voyagers and taking a month perhaps to make the crossing, those who sat day after day together, and evening after evening around the cabin lamp, became necessarily friendly; and in many instances not only for the duration of the voyage but for life. More often than not, those who had "endured the rigors" of the Atlantic together, joined forces in engaging the courier who was in those days indispensable, and set out on their Continental travels in company. Dashing to Europe and back was scarcely to be imagined, and travelers who had ventured such a distance, stayed at least a year or more. Also in those slower days of crawling across the earth's surface by post-chaise and diligence and horseback, travelers meeting in inns and elsewhere, fell literally on each other's neck at the sound of an American accent! And each retailed to the other his news of home; to which was added the news of all whom they had encountered. It is also from these "traveling ancestors" that families inherit their Continental visiting lists. Friends they made in Europe, in turn gave letters of introduction to friends coming later to America. And to them again their American hosts sent letters by later American friends.
But to-day when going to Europe is of scarcely greater importance than going into another State, and when the passenger list numbers hundreds, "making friends with strangers" is the last thing the great-grandchildren of those earlier travelers would think of.
It may be pretty accurately said that the faster and bigger the ship, the less likely one is to speak to strangers, and yet—as always—circumstances alter cases. Because the Worldlys, the Oldnames, the Eminents,—all those who are innately exclusive—never "pick up" acquaintances on shipboard, it does not follow that no fashionable and well-born people ever drift into acquaintanceship on European-American steamers of to-day—but they are at least not apt to do so. Many in fact take the ocean-crossing as a rest-cure and stay in their cabins the whole voyage. The Worldlys always have their meals served in their own "drawing-room" and have their deck chairs placed so that no one is very near them, and keep to themselves except when they invite friends of their own to play bridge or take dinner or lunch with them.
But because the Worldlys and the Eminents—and the Snobsnifts who copy them—stay in their cabins, sit in segregated chairs and speak to no one except the handful of their personal friends or acquaintances who happen to be on board, it does not follow that the Smiths, Joneses and Robinsons are not enlarging their acquaintance with every revolution of the screws. And if you happen to like to be talked to by strangers, and if they in turn like to talk to you, it can not be said that there is any rule of etiquette against it.
Dining Saloon Etiquette
Very fashionable people as a rule travel a great deal, which means that they are known very well to the head steward, who reserves a table, or they engage a table for themselves when they get their tickets. Mr. and Mrs. Gilding for instance, if they know that friends of theirs are sailing on the same steamer, ask them to sit at their table and ask for a sufficiently large table on purpose. Or if they are traveling alone, they arrange to have one of the small tables for two, to themselves.
People of wide acquaintance in big cities are sure to find friends on board with whom they can arrange, if they choose, to sit on deck or in the dining saloon, but most people, unless really intimate friends are on board, sit wherever the head steward puts them. After a meal or two people always speak to those sitting next to them. None but the rudest snobs would sit through meal after meal without ever addressing a word to their table companions. Well-bred people are always courteous, but that does not mean that they establish friendships with any strangers who happen to be placed next to them.
In crossing the Pacific, people are more generally friendly because the voyage is so much longer, and on the other long voyages, such as those to India and South Africa, the entire ship's company become almost as intimate as in the old clipper days.
The Tactics Of The Climber
There are certain constant travelers who, it is said, count on a European voyage to increase their social acquaintance by just so much each trip! Richan Vulgar, for instance, has his same especial table every time he crosses, which is four times a year! Walking through a "steamer train" he sees a "celebrity," a brilliant, let us say, but unworldly man. Vulgar annexes him by saying, casually, "Have you a seat at table? Better sit with me, I always have the table by the door; it is easy to get in and out." The celebrity accepts, since there is no evidence that he is to be "featured," and the chances are that he remains unconscious to the end of time that he served as a decoy. Boarding the steamer, Vulgar sees the Lovejoys, and pounces: "You must sit at my table! Celebrity and I are crossing together—he is the most delightful man! I want you to sit next to him." They think Celebrity sounds very interesting; so, not having engaged a table for themselves, they say they will be delighted. On the deck, the Smartlys appear and ask the Lovejoys to sit with them. Vulgar, who is standing by (he is always standing by) breaks in even without an introduction and says: "Mr. and Mrs. Lovejoy and Celebrity are sitting at my table, won't you sit with me also?" If the Smartlys protest they have a table, he is generally insistent and momentarily overpowering enough to make them join forces with him. As the Smartlys particularly want to sit next to the Lovejoys and also like the idea of meeting Celebrity, it ends in Vulgar's table being a collection of fashionables whom he could not possibly have gotten together without just such a maneuver.
The question of what he gets out of it is puzzling since with each hour the really well-bred people dislike him more and more intensely, and at the end of a day or so, his table's company are all eating on deck to avoid him. Perhaps there is some recompense that does not appear on the surface, but to the casual observer the satisfaction of telling others that the Smartlys, Lovejoys and Wellborns sat at his table would scarcely seem worth the effort.
Those Acquisitive Of Acquaintance
There is another type of steamer passenger and hotel guest who may, or may not, be a climber. This one searches out potential acquaintances on the passenger list and hotel register with the avidity of a bird searching for worms. You have scarcely found your own stateroom and had your deck chair placed, when one of them swoops upon you: "I don't know whether you remember me? I met you in nineteen two, at Countess della Robbia's in Florence." Your memory being woefully incomplete, there is nothing for you to say except, "How do you do!" If a few minutes of conversation, which should be sufficient, proves her to be a lady, you talk to her now and again throughout the voyage, and may end by liking her very much. If, however, her speech breaks into expressions which prove her not a lady, you become engrossed in your book or conversation with another when she approaches. Often these over-friendly people are grasping, calculating and objectionable, but sometimes like Ricki Ticki Tavi they are merely obsessed with a mania to run about and see what is going on in the world.
For instance, Miss Spinster is one of the best-bred, best-informed, most charming ladies imaginable. But her mania for people cannot fail on occasions to put her in a position to be snubbed—never seriously because she is too obviously a lady for that. But to see her trotting along the deck and then darting upon a helpless reclining figure, is at least an illustration of the way some people make friends. It can't be done, of course, unless you have once known the person you are addressing, or unless you have a friend in common who, though absent, can serve in making the introduction.
As said in "Introductions," introducing oneself is often perfectly correct. If you, sharing Miss Spinster's love of people, find yourself on a steamer with the intimate friend of a member of your family, you may very properly go up and say, "I am going to speak to you because I am Celia Lovejoy's cousin—I am Mrs. Brown." And Mrs. Norman, who very much likes Celia Lovejoy, says cordially, "I am so glad you spoke to me, do sit down, won't you?" But to have your next chair neighbor on deck insist on talking to you, if you don't want to be talked to, is very annoying, and it is bad form for her to do so. If you are sitting hour after hour doing nothing but idly looking in front of you, your neighbor might address a few remarks to you, and if you receive them with any degree of enthusiasm, your response may be translated into a willingness to talk. But if you answer in the merest monosyllables, it should be taken to mean that you prefer to be left to your own diversions.
Even if you are agreeable, your neighbor should show tact in not speaking to you when you are reading or writing, or show no inclination for conversation. The point is really that no one must do anything to interfere with the enjoyment of another. Whoever is making the advance, whether your neighbor or yourself, it must never be more than tentative; if not at least met halfway, it must be withdrawn at once. That is really the only rule there is. It should merely be granted that those who do not care to meet others have just as much right to their seclusion as those who delight in others have a right to be delighted—as long as that delight is unmistakably mutual.
Steamer Tips
Each ordinary first class passenger, now as always, gives ten shillings ($2.50) to the room steward or stewardess, ten shillings to the dining-room steward, ten shillings to the deck steward, ten shillings to the lounge steward. Your tip to the head steward and to one of the chefs depends on whether they have done anything especial for you. If not, you do not tip them. If you are a bad sailor and have been taking your meals in your room, you give twenty shillings ($5.00) at least to the stewardess (or steward, if you are a man). Or if you have eaten your meals on deck, you give twenty shillings to the deck steward, and ten to his assistant, and you give five to the bath steward. To any steward who takes pains to please you, you show by your manner in thanking him that you appreciate his efforts, as well as by giving him a somewhat more generous tip when you leave the ship.
If you like your bath at a certain hour, you would do well to ask your bath steward for it as soon as you go on board (unless you have a private bath of your own), since the last persons to speak get the inconvenient hours—naturally. To many the daily salt bath is the most delightful feature of the trip. The water is always wonderfully clear and the towels are heated.
If you have been ill on the voyage, some ship's doctors send in a bill; others do not. In the latter case you are not actually obliged to give them anything, but the generously inclined put the amount of an average fee in an envelope and leave it for the doctor at the purser's office.
Dress On The Steamer
On the de luxe steamers nearly every one dresses for dinner; some actually in ball dresses, which is in worst possible taste, and, like all over-dressing in public places, indicates that they have no other place to show their finery. People of position never put on formal evening dress on a steamer, not even in the à la carte restaurant, which is a feature of the de luxe steamer of size. In the dining saloon they wear afternoon house dresses—without hats—for dinner. In the restaurant they wear semi-dinner dresses. Some smart men on the ordinary steamers put on a dark sack suit for dinner after wearing country clothes all day, but in the de luxe restaurant they wear Tuxedo coats. No gentleman wears a tail-coat on shipboard under any circumstances whatsoever.