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  MARTINE'S

  HAND-BOOK OF ETIQUETTE,

  AND

  GUIDE TO TRUE POLITENESS.


  A COMPLETE MANUAL FOR THOSE WHO DESIRE TO UNDERSTAND THE RULES OF GOOD
  BREEDING, THE CUSTOMS OF GOOD SOCIETY, AND TO AVOID INCORRECT AND
  VULGAR HABITS,


  CONTAINING

  _Clear and Comprehensive Directions for Correct Manners, Dress, and
  Conversation_;

  _Instructions for Good Behavior at Dinner Parties, and the Table, with
  Hints on the Art of Carving and Taking Wine at Table_;

  _Together with the Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Room, Evening
  Parties_;

  _Deportment in the Street and when Travelling_;

  _And the Usages to be Observed when Visiting or Receiving Calls_.


  TO WHICH IS ADDED

  THE ETIQUETTE OF COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE, DOMESTIC DUTIES, AND FIFTY-SIX
  RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN GENERAL SOCIETY.

  BY ARTHUR MARTINE.

  NEW YORK:
  DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS.


  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by

  DICK & FITZGERALD,

  In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for
  the Southern District of New York.




  CONTENTS.


  General Observations                          5

  The Art of Conversation                       8

  General Rules for Conversation               24

  On Dress                                     48

  Introductions                                57

  Letters of Introduction                      61

  Dinner Parties                               63

  Habits at Table                              67

  Wine at Table                                74

  Carving                                      82

  Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Room      93

  Evening Parties                             104

  Visiting                                    113

  Street Etiquette                            127

  Traveling                                   133

  Marriage                                    136

  Domestic Etiquette and Duties               144

  On General Society                          154




GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.


Politeness has been defined as an "artificial good-nature;" but it would
be better said that _good-nature is natural politeness_. It inspires us
with an unremitting attention, both to please others and to avoid giving
them offence. Its code is a ceremonial, agreed upon and established
among mankind, to give each other external testimonies of friendship or
respect. _Politeness_ and _etiquette_ form a sort of supplement to the
law, which enables society to protect itself against offences which the
_law_ cannot touch. For instance, the law cannot punish a man for
habitually staring at people in an insolent and annoying manner, but
_etiquette_ can banish such an offender from the circles of good
society, and fix upon him the brand of vulgarity. _Etiquette_ consists
in certain forms, ceremonies, and rules which the _principle of
politeness_ establishes and enforces for the regulation of the manners
of men and women in their intercourse with each other.

Many unthinking persons consider the observance of etiquette to be
nonsensical and unfriendly, as consisting of unmeaning forms, practiced
only by the _silly_ and the idle; an opinion which arises from their not
having reflected on the _reasons_ that have led to the establishment of
certain rules indispensable to the well-being of society, and without
which, indeed, it would inevitably fall to pieces, and be destroyed.

The true aim of politeness, is to make those with whom you associate as
well satisfied with themselves as possible. It does not, by any means,
encourage an impudent self-importance in them, but it does whatever it
can to accommodate their feelings and wishes in social intercourse.
Politeness is a sort of social benevolence, which avoids wounding the
pride, or shocking the prejudices of those around you.

The principle of politeness is the same among all nations, but the
ceremonials which etiquette imposes differ according to the taste and
habits of various countries. For instance, many of the minor rules of
etiquette at Paris differ from those at London; and at New York they may
differ from both Paris and London. But still the polite of every country
have about the same manners.

Of the manners and deportment of both ladies and gentlemen, we would
remark that a proper consideration for the welfare and comfort of others
will generally lead to a greater propriety of demeanor than any rules
which the most rigid master of etiquette could supply. This feeling,
however, is one that must be cultivated, for the promptings of nature
are eminently selfish, and courtesy and good-breeding are only
attainable by effort and discipline. But even courtesy has limits where
dignity should govern it, for when carried to excess, particularly in
manner, it borders on sycophancy, which is almost as despicable as
rudeness. To overburden people with attention; to render them
uncomfortable with a prodigality of proffered services; to insist upon
obligations which they do not desire, is not only to render yourself
disagreeable, but contemptible. This defect of manners is particularly
prevalent in the rural districts, where the intense effort to render a
visitor comfortable has exactly the contrary effect; besides, there are
those whose want of refinement and good breeding often leads them to an
unwarrantable familiarity, which requires coldness and indifference to
subdue.

Much misconstruction and unpleasant feeling arises, especially in
country towns, from not knowing what is "_expected_," or necessary to be
done on certain occasions, resulting sometimes from the prevalence of
local customs, with which the world in general are not supposed to be
acquainted. "To do in Rome as the Romans do," applies to every kind of
society. At the same time, you can never be expected to commit a serious
breach of manners because your neighbors do so.

But what you should do, and what not, in particular cases, you will
learn in the following chapters. I have only now to say, that if you
wish to be agreeable, which is certainly a good and religious desire,
you must both study how to be so, and take the trouble to put your
studies into constant practice. The fruit you will soon reap. You will
be generally liked and loved. The gratitude of those to whom you have
devoted yourself will be shown in speaking well of you; you will become
a desirable addition to every party, and whatever your birth, fortune,
or position, people will say of you, "He is a most agreeable and
well-bred man," and be glad to introduce you to good society. But you
will reap a yet better reward. You will have in yourself the
satisfaction of having taken trouble and made sacrifices in order to
give pleasure and happiness for the time to others. How do you know what
grief or care you may not obliterate, what humiliation you may not alter
to confidence, what anxiety you may not soften, what--last, but really
not least--what intense dullness you may not enliven? If this work
assist you in becoming an agreeable member of good society, I shall
rejoice at the labor it has given me.




THE ART OF CONVERSATION.


As the object of conversation is pleasure and improvement, those
subjects only which are of universal interest can be made legitimate
topics of pleasantry or discussion. And it is the gift of expressing
thoughts and fancies in a quick, brilliant, and graceful manner on such
topics,--of striking out new ideas, eliciting the views and opinions of
others, of attaching the interest of all to the subject discussed,
giving it, however trifling in itself, weight and importance in the
estimation of the hearers, that constitutes the great talent for
conversation. But this talent can never, we may safely aver, be
displayed except in a good cause, and when conversation is carried on in
a spirit of genuine charity and benevolence.

We should meet in society to please and be pleased, and not to display
cold and stately dignity, which is as much out of place, as all attempts
to shine by a skillful adherence to the fantastic rules of the
silver-fork school, are puerile and ludicrous. Such little things are
great to little persons, who are proud of having acquired by rote, what
the naturally elegant derive, in sufficient measure, from naturally just
feeling.

The power of preserving silence is the very first requisite to all who
wish to shine, or even please in discourse; and those who cannot
preserve it, have really no business to speak. Of course, I do not mean
the dull, ignorant, sulky, or supercilious silence, of which we see
enough in all conscience; but the graceful, winning and eloquent
silence. The silence that, without any deferential air, listens with
polite attention, is more flattering than compliments, and more
frequently broken for the purpose of encouraging others to speak, than
to display the listener's own powers. This is the really eloquent
silence. It requires great genius--more perhaps than speaking--and few
are gifted with the talent; but it is of such essential advantage, that
I must recommend its study to all who are desirous to take a share in
conversation, and beg they will learn to be silent, before they attempt
to speak.

Notwithstanding the praise here bestowed on silence, it must still be
explained that there are various modes of being silently rude. There is
the rude silence of disdain--of not hearing, of not even deeming your
words deserving attention or reply. These are minor and mere passive
modes of impertinence; the direct and active sort of silent rudeness is
to listen with a fixed and attentive stare on the speaker, and without
any necessity of raising the eyebrows--for that might be
precarious--show your utter amazement, that any one should think of thus
addressing a person of your rank, wealth, genius, or greatness. There
are of course various styles and degrees in all these modes of
impertinence, but they all originate in the same cause: ignorance of the
real facility of being rude, and a wish to acquire distinction by the
practice. It is idle to assert that every one can be rude if he likes;
for, if such were the fact, we should not see hosts of persons belonging
to what is termed good society, seeking fame and renown by various
shades and degrees of mere impertinence.

Never give short or sharp answers in ordinary conversation, unless you
aspire to gain distinction by mere rudeness; for they have in fact no
merit, and are only uncivil. "I do not know," "I cannot tell," are the
most harmless words possible, and may yet be rendered very offensive by
the tone and manner in which they are pronounced. Never reply, in answer
to a question like the following, "Did Mrs. Spitewell tell you how Miss
Rosebud's marriage was getting on?" "I did not ask." It is almost like
saying, I never ask impertinent questions, though you do; we learn
plenty of things in the world without having first inquired about them.
If you must say, you did not ask, say, that "you forgot to ask,"
"neglected it," or "did not think of it." We can always be ordinarily
civil, even if we cannot always be absolutely wise.

Except in mere sport and raillery, and where a little _extravaganza_ is
the order of the moment, always when you answer, or speak in reply to an
observation made, speak to the true and just import of what is said.
Leave quibbling of every kind to lawyers pleading at the bar for the
life of a culprit; in society and conversation it is invariably out of
place, unless when Laughter is going his merry round. At all other times
it is a proof of bad breeding.

You must not overstretch a proposition, neither must you overstretch or
spin out a jest, that has done its duty; for few can be made to rebound
after they have once come to the ground.

Another mode of being rude, is to collect, and have at command, all the
set phrases used by uncivil persons, in order to say what they fancy
very sharp and severe things. Such a collector, jealous perhaps of the
attention with which a pleasant guest is listened to, may break in upon
the most harmless discourse with the words, "I think you _lie_ under a
mistake." The term may in itself be harmless, but its application is at
all times rude, coarse and decidedly vulgar.

La Bruyere tells us that "rudeness is not a fixed and inherent vice of
the mind, but the result of other vices; it springs," he says, "from
vanity, ignorance, laziness, stupidity, jealousy, and inattention. It is
the more hateful from being constantly displayed in exterior deportment
and from being thus always visible and manifest; and is offensive in
character and