Social Customs/Chapter 13

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With the ever-increasing luxury of the present day a new fashion has grown up; namely, that of giving frequent and expensive entertainments for a few people rather than large parties for society in general. Thus many ladies now give a dozen handsome lunches and dinners to repay their social obligations and entertain their friends, where fifteen or twenty years ago they would have given three or four large soirées.

There are many advantages in the new system, and many drawbacks as well. The beauty, æsthetic and gustatory, of a modern feast is not to be denied, and has been described at some length in another part of this volume. But the tendency of these comparatively small reunions is to divide people into cliques and sets, to encourage the animal within us, to make us selfish, and to do away with the larger and more catholic gatherings which have their own charm,—a charm apart from the æsthetic gratification of the senses which the modern dinner-table affords.

Let us lunch and dine, by all means, but let us also entertain in a more general way; otherwise we shall be apt to invite and be invited by the same people over and over again, excluding from our feasts the lame and halt whom the Bible bids us ask as our guests. The lame and halt, socially speaking,—who does not know them? Mr. ——, a man with the divine spark of poetry in him, is one of them. He ​shall write verses when his heart is touched, ære perennius; and his talk how full of thought, his wit how subtle and delicate! But he lives in a small old-fashioned house, and dines not, neither is he dined.

Mrs. —— is another of this fraternity. She has a large house and a sufficient income, but does not know how to entertain people, and fears to invite them lest they should be bored. Younger brothers and older sisters belong to those who are socially disabled as far as dinner-parties are concerned. A dinner-party is necessarily very limited as to the number of guests; hence, only two, or at the utmost three, can be invited out of the same family. These will usually be the most eligible members of it; the handsomest daughter and the most agreeable son will be asked over and over again; papa and mamma, if they are quiet dull people, will be "left out in the cold" altogether, unless they defend themselves by giving dull dinners of their own to those who may be counted upon to invite them in return.

Luckily there is one form of general entertainment which is still very popular, and in which even suburban lame ducks can find their account. "Afternoon teas," revived in England about twenty years ago, and imported to this country soon afterward, are certainly a most admirable institution. What if the dissipation they afford is of the mildest type? It may be mild, but it is perennial. An afternoon tea is so cheap that anybody can afford to give one, and involves so little trouble and formality that even the most timid or most lazy hostess need not shrink before the very diminutive lions it brings into her path. She need only provide tea, coffee, or chocolate, with thin slices of bread and butter or sandwiches, fancy biscuits, and cake.

Indeed, some of the pleasantest five-o'clock teas are the most informal ones, where the lady of the house has all the tea-equipage in the drawing-room, placed on a little table beside ​her, and where she pours out the fragrant beverage for her friends as they drop in, two or three at a time. For an occasion of this sort it would be sufficient to provide fancy biscuits or cake to accompany the tea, and the invitations would be given out quite informally. They might either be verbal, or written or engraved on a lady's visiting-card; thus,—

If the hostess intends to receive on that day throughout the season, "Fridays" or "Friday" would be sufficient. Where a lady gives only one or two "afternoon teas," the refreshments are on a somewhat more elaborate scale, but may still be simple if she prefers to have them so.

Many people who dine late in our large cities have five-o'clock tea served every day, and are almost always at home to friends at that hour. But what a difference is there between the reception you will meet at various houses, even where the invitations are precisely alike and the preparations for receiving guests made on just the same scale!

Some people are so formal in their very natures, that they impart frigidity to all who approach them. Your backbone begins to straighten itself up at the very aspect of the servant who opens the door, whether he is a wooden footman or one of those preternaturally prim maid-servants who seem to ​have caught an inward starch from long contact with their grim mistresses.

If on entering the parlor you find the furniture upholstered in blue satin of a more than usual degree of slipperiness, it will all seem part of one general plan. You will only sit on the very edge of your chair, and as you receive your tea from the hands of another frozen menial you will wonder how the tea can keep hot under such chilling influences!

Of course the conversation will turn upon the weather (on looking out of the window you observe that it has suddenly begun to snow), and will be extremely limited, for the guests will not be introduced to one another, and they will feel the gêné of their austere surroundings. The hostess is robed in satin, like her chairs, and her hair has been dressed by a hair-dresser. The solemn servant passes around marrons glacés, or candied rose-leaves; but how can one insult his dignity by receiving such childish trifles at his hands? None but the most candy-hardened school-girl would dare to touch the little trifling bonbon tongs which surmount the sugary heap.

Slipping away from the congealing hospitality of this house, you go to another only a few blocks distant, and the sound of merry laughter greets your ear the moment that the door opens to admit you. Within, you find yourself in a wide spacious hall, through which you pass to a suite of three parlors. In each an open fire gives a cheerful look to the apartment, but the farthest is the centre of attraction. Here stands the tea-table, with a pretty girl sitting at either end pouring out tea and coffee. In this room also is the hostess, handsome, cordial, hospitable. Her hair, to be sure, is gray, but her heart does not match it,—à la Byron. She receives every guest with a cordial grasp of the hand, and her face is so beaming with kindliness and the true spirit of hospitality that every one feels himself sincerely welcomed. ​The busy hostess hardly sits still for a moment; she wishes to be sure that all her guests are amused and happy, that they are provided with tea and cake, and, what is more important, that they have some one to talk to. Perhaps she has several lions among her company of the afternoon, and she wishes to see that all have a fair chance to make the acquaintance of these distinguished visitors.

This lady does not believe in the modern theory of non-introduction, although you will find in her salon fashionable women and distinguished men, a brilliant and charming assembly, where every one feels at home, and accepts cordially the hostess's parting invitation to "come next time." No, she does not live in Boston, this particular hostess, though no doubt the Hub can boast of some ladies who entertain with the same cordiality and grace.

The refreshments at an afternoon tea are so few and simple that they ought without peradventure to be the very best of their kind. The tea should be properly steeped in absolutely boiling water, but never allowed to boil on the stove, and ought to be accompanied with cream, and not milk. Where a large number of guests are expected, the tea and coffee should be in urns, kept warm by alcohol lamps.

Some people have the servants hand around cups of tea and coffee on a waiter, instead of pouring out these beverages themselves; but this method takes away half the charm and air of reality of the tea-drinking. The hostess herself cannot undertake to entertain her guests and pour tea too, except where very few people are present. She can usually, however, depute the duty to a daughter of the house, or bespeak beforehand the services of some other friend.

In the time of good Queen Anne they even went so far as to grind the coffee in public when the august sovereign gave an afternoon tea. ​

The good queen evidently liked her beverages hot; and the modern hostess should remember that not only the tea and coffee but the boiled milk as well should be hot, and not lukewarm. Cream makes a wonderful improvement in the flavor of both tea and coffee.

If bread and butter are provided, the bread must be of wafer-like thinness, spread nicely with "the best of butter" and arranged sandwich fashion, with the crusts trimmed off. In summer, iced tea flavored with lemon and served without cream or milk is sometimes substituted for hot tea. English Breakfast is now the favorite and fashionable variety of tea, though Oolong and Japan teas still have their faithful adherents.

The little low five-o'clock tea-tables, with their dainty embroidered cloths, are so pretty and picturesque that it seems a thousand pities not to use them. But they will be found inconvenient, except on very small occasions, not only on account of their diminutive size, but because they are so low. A rather small table of the ordinary height, placed against the wall, may be substituted for the regulation five-o'clock tea-table; at this the hostess is not obliged to sit down every time that she pours out tea.

When cards are issued for only one or two afternoon teas, the refreshments are usually on a more elaborate scale, and often comprise bouillon, ice-cream, lemonade, punch, and even oysters and salads. The latter belong more properly to a ​reception; but afternoon teas, receptions, and kettledrums melt into one another by imperceptible gradations, and the names are often used interchangeably. Strictly speaking, the five-o'clock or afternoon tea is the least formal occasion of the three, the kettledrum coming next in order, while the afternoon reception, or "at home," is the most ceremonious of them all.

For a reception the hostess usually wears a handsome demi-toilet, silk, satin, or velvet, made with a train, and cut down at the throat if the wearer chooses. But she never wears full evening dress, as this would be in very bad taste. The house is often handsomely decorated with flowers, and a dressing-room is thrown open for those ladies who may prefer to take off their outside wraps, a second room being provided for the accommodation of gentlemen. The guests may, if they choose, wear handsome reception toilets, but never remove their bonnets unless they have been previously invited to receive with the hostess. As the same people often attend several receptions, teas, etc., in the same afternoon, quite a variety of dress is worn, many ladies preferring to appear in the plain tailor-made street costumes that are now so fashionable.

Gentlemen wear morning dress on all afternoon occasions; namely, black or dark frock-coat, with high waistcoat to match, dark or gray trousers, and scarf or necktie.

They leave their overcoats, umbrellas, etc., in the hall, or in the dressing-room if one has been provided for their use. Their hats they may bring with them into the drawing-room if they prefer to do so.

For a very handsome reception the rooms are sometimes lighted by artificial light, the windows being darkened by shutters or blinds, and a band of musicians is placed behind a leafy screen where it can discourse sweet music without being seen. The hostess stands near the door, so ​that she can readily welcome her guests as they enter the drawing-room. People do not usually remain very long at an occasion of this sort; half an hour's stay is sufficient to meet the requirements of politeness, but this is often prolonged to an hour or more, according to whether the guest is amused or not, and to the number of friends and acquaintances whom he happens to meet.

The above is a proper form for an invitation to a reception. The whole card may be engraved, or the invitation may be written on a visiting card. It was formerly considered proper to use figures in an invitation, for the day of the month, the hour, etc.; but the new fashion is to have all the numbers except that of the street engraved in full, as in the card given above. If the invitation is written on a visiting card, it is still allowable to use figures.

As has been said elsewhere, it is not strictly correct to put either "R. S. V. P." or "to meet Miss So and so" on an "at home" card; but it is often done now, custom and convenience sanctioning the solecism. ​

This card means, if it means anything, that Mrs. Barclay intends to stay at home to give herself the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Smith, and that your views of her conduct on this occasion are respectfully requested, as those of an impartial third person. But it is useless to sneer at the decrees of fashion. By and by some leader of the social world will invent a different form of invitation, and we shall all follow his lead like so many well-bred sheep.

Kettledrums are said to have received their name from the fact that they were originally given by the wives of officers at the headquarters of the latter, a drum making an impromptu stand for the tea-equippage.

It is more likely, however, that the name is a survival or revival of the old English "drum," a word which was constantly used in Queen Anne's time and later, to describe ​fashionable gatherings. Smollett says: "This is a riotous assembly of fashionable people of both sexes at a private house, consisting of some hundreds; not unaptly styled a drum, from the noise and emptiness of the entertainment."

The word "kettledrum" is not often used in invitations now, though for a time it was quite the rage to call every afternoon occasion by this name. A kaffee-klatsch is the newest name for afternoon tea—or rather coffee drinking. It certainly has an admirably descriptive sound,—this title,—and conveys the idea of boundless talk, clatter of spoons, and the harmless (?) scratch of gossip better than any of its predecessors.

The following is a form often used for invitations to afternoon teas.