Nooks and Corners / being the companion volume to 'From Kitchen to Garret'

by J. E. Panton

To make such a dance a success, the floor must be perfect, a band of from three to five performers engaged, and people must be thoroughly well introduced to each other, and, if possible, no girl must be seen sitting out without a valiant struggle on the part of the hostess to prevent such a sad occurrence by finding her a partner. I cannot countenance or believe in dances, or, in fact, any social gathering, where there are no introductions; it is simply an excuse for laziness on the part of the hostess, which all too often condemns her guests to a great deal of misery and dulness. Of course the theory is a perfectly correct one; the practice, however, cannot, in my opinion, be too heartily condemned. There will always be débutantes and shy girls who know very few people, and these cannot possibly dance unless we see they know men to dance with.

Is there any misery like the misery of a girl who is dying to dance, who loves the exercise for its own sake, and who has to sit out on a bench, her feet impatiently tapping the floor, and her little heart ready to break with disappointment, while she sees married women, who ought to know better, and who ought never to dance at all as long as a girl is sitting out, prancing all about the place and caring nothing for the poor young things whose day it is? As long as they enjoy themselves, that is quite enough for them.

The watchful hostess will have none of these engaging little ways at her dances: the girls are provided for first, the matrons after; and as this would be impossible were introductions done away with, I would impress upon my readers to cling to this old fashion, and to see that the girls enjoy themselves, no matter who else do not. Except as chaperons married women are out of place in the ballroom, and should not be encouraged to come there; if they do their duty by their homes, their husbands, and their children, they could have neither time nor inclination for such a pursuit.

When my own daughter ‘came out’ the other day, we had about 125 people to a dance in Watford, and it cost us just under 50l. Because our house was too small to have any festivity in, we had to engage rooms, which cost about 5l.; the supper cost about 25l., at 5s. a head, including soup, aërated waters, and waiters, and a certain amount of decoration for the approach, anterooms, &c. We had plenty of moss, plants, &c., which our own gardener arranged. The local band of three performers cost 3l. 3s., and the rest went for wine, programmes, and odds and ends generally. The dance was certainly most successful, and went off very well, and was quite as much as we could afford. Naturally I should have preferred much grander doings—a first-rate supper, the ‘Blue Hungarian’ band, or any other excellent one; but it would have been foolish to refuse to entertain at all because we could not manage these gorgeous details—details that were as much above our means as they would have been quite unnecessary in Watford.

But the dance was successful, because the girls were pretty and the men pleasant, because old friends came down and rallied round us, and because we all saw the girls did not sit down once, that there was no flagging, and that all who could be introduced were made to know each other. I dare say there were plenty of people who wondered they did not have a gorgeous supper, but I do not care if they did, and I certainly am never going to precipitate myself head first into the Bankruptcy Court because someone else gives what, no doubt, they can well afford to do, but which I could not, and which, were I to do, I should soon come utterly to an end.

I mention all these personal details to show that what we did can be done by other people, certainly by people who have a big house and plenty of servants, at a moderate cost, and I hope I shall not have become a ‘mock of many’ because of all I have said; but as I always think personal experience frankly given is worth any amount of polite theory, I give my experience here as elsewhere, hoping that it may be of use to many beside myself.

If the damsel is born in the summer, I strongly advise a tennis-or garden-party, though, alas! in this climate we are so dependent upon the weather that I mention this with a certain amount of diffidence; but given one of the lovely June days Nature sometimes kindly dowers us with, and can anything on earth be pleasanter than one of these al-fresco gatherings may be if properly managed?

The garden is looking its best, and, if the seats are judiciously arranged and a proper amount of amusement legislated for, the hostess can greet her friends with a light heart; she can be quite sure of a successful party without too much trouble or expense on her part.

The refreshments should be either in a tent on the lawn or else in any room that may open out into the garden. Should there be no such room, I strongly advise the tent to be procured (one can always be borrowed at a most reasonable expense), as, if the refreshments are not easily accessible, the party becomes scattered: the timid do not like to separate themselves and go in search of sustenance, while the greedy can seclude themselves and snatch an undue share of the good things prepared for the entire company.

Given the tent, or the room, and we can proceed to place very long and narrow tables there, which we should decorate with as many flowers as we possibly can get together, and should we have very many Londoners coming to our gathering we should put a host of the little baskets Whiteley sells for about 4½d. a set under the tables, and fill them at parting with what we garnished the tables with. Roses and lilies and greenery are not to be despised in London, and our friends will come down to us cheerfully another year if they carry away a sweetly-scented souvenir of our last gathering. People don’t mind carrying flowers, and we can always spare those we have used for garnishing the table.