HINTS FOR THE LEVEE.
Dilworth's instructions to little boys and girls direct them "never to be greedy, or swallow large pieces of meat, or eat hot pudding." He, moreover, cautions them against many little improprieties which shall be nameless; and concludes with this impressive admonition—"never pick your nose in company."
We have not room for all the instructions in the Scots paper, which occupy more than three columns; but we shall quote one or two, which appear the most important.
"Directions for going to a Levee.—Full suit, bag, sword—hair powder is not held to be indispensable.
"Each individual will have two cards, one of which will be taken care of by the pages in the ante-chamber, who will have the care of the 'Court Record.' The stranger will then walk through the suite of departments till he finds himself in that immediately joining the presence chamber."
This, it will be perceived, is quite in the Dilworth style, excepting that, instead of "not picking his nose," the pupil is here directed to follow it; which, if he did, he would arrive at the room he wanted, without such an elaborate description.
The account of the reception the stranger is to expect is not prepossessing, although correct enough in point of fact:—
"The person on coming up to his Majesty drops one knee to the King—the crowd being great he is immediately pushed forward."
This our readers will perceive (as it is expressed), must immediately upset him at his Majesty's feet; and the great difficulty, instead of not picking his nose, will be "not to break his nose in company." A consolation is offered to the patient hereabouts, which is soothing enough:—
"He may pay his respects en passant to any of the Cabinet Ministers with whom he is acquainted."
A privilege not confined, we conclude, to the place or occasion. The truth is, that when the patient is up and off his knees, he may expect to be pushed forward. At least, we suppose, it is not intended, as the Star expresses it, that he is to be pushed forward while on them, because a more inconvenient opportunity of changing the form of presentation could not have been selected, than when so many gentlemen are likely to appear in the Highland costume.
The mode of preventing a crowd at a Levee, which the Star mentions, is new and ingenious:—
"Every gentleman may appear in the dress of his regiment, but it must be full dress, viz., a coat with skirts, etc.: any person may easily see that unless some regulation of this sort were enforced, the King's Levees would, on all occasions, be crowded to an extent altogether destructive of comfort."
We do not see the force of this regulation, we confess.
Farther on we perceive this:—
"It is understood that Glengarry, Breadalbane, Huntley, and several others, mean to attend the Levee 'with their tails on.'"
This, to a Southron, sounds very odd; and the omission of the Duke of Hamilton's name, on such an occasion, would appear still more strange, if we did not explain that it is a mere phrase, and indicates the proposed attendance of dependants upon their chieftains.
We are fearful, however, that if these nobles bring their tails with them, the regulation about wearing skirts will be rendered unavailing, and that the skirts without tails, and the tails without skirts, will have a good tough squeeze of it after all.
The directions for the conduct of the ladies, upon the present occasion, are clearer and more defined:—
"Ladies are introduced to the King either by Ladies who have already been at Court, or by the Lord in Waiting. The Lady drops her train (about four yards in length) when she enters the circle of the King. It is held up by the Lord in Waiting till she is close to his Majesty. She curtsies. The King raises her up, and salutes her on the cheek. She then retires, always facing the Sovereign till she is beyond the circle. A considerable difficulty is presented to the inexperienced by the necessity of retiring (without assistance) backwards. The ladies must exert their skill to move their trains quietly and neatly from behind them as they retire; and those who have never worn such dresses should lose no time in beginning to practise this. Most painful must the situation be of a young female who is so unfortunate as to make a faux-pas on such an occasion. It was by no means so difficult when hoops were in fashion; but now that these have been discarded there is nothing to assist in keeping the train off the ground. The ladies cannot require to be informed that they must all appear in Court plumes and fans. At least nine feathers must be in each head-dress."
It will be observed, that the ladies are literally to come with their tails on, as the gentlemen are metaphorically; and the instructions how to "enter the circle of the King" are all plain enough; but subsequently we are involved in a dilemma, from the fact that part of the instructions appear to have been borrowed from a section of Dilworth, which we should not have ventured to quote.
"A considerable difficulty is presented to the inexperienced by the necessity (without assistance) of retiring backwards."
Now, retiring forwards, at any time, is a difficulty, and better suited to the Irish than the Scottish Court; and therefore, as all retiring must be going back, we are so dull as not to see why "retiring backwards" (the very phrase used in Dilworth) has anything to do with the "necessities" of the moment.
The ladies are warned, it will be perceived, when the necessity of retiring backwards comes upon them, to "move their trains quietly from behind them," and they are desired to practise this manœuvre. This is careful and decent, and highly worthy of commendation, but the caution which follows seems outrageous:—
"Most painful must be the situation of a young female who is so unfortunate as to make a faux-pas on such an occasion."
Dear heart! what could the Star have been dreaming of?
We have heard, in private letters from Edinburgh, that the King's visit has turned the heads of everybody in that city; and, therefore, we think the Star worthy of much praise for endeavouring to teach them which way to turn their tails: a lesson which, we trust, will be as profitable to them as it has been amusing to us.