"Sole daughter of your house and heart,"
or Miss "Lucy," or "Belinda," the third or fourth in the order of time, and, consequently, of precedence, or what may chance to be the name of your father-in-law, or half-sister, etc., etc.
Well-bred people address each other by name, when conversing, and hence the awkwardness occasioned by this vulgar habit, which is only equalled by that of speaking of your wife as "My wife,"[10] or worse still, "my lady!" Is it not enough, when your friends know that you are married, and are perfectly familiar with your own name, to speak of "Mrs. ——," and to introduce them to the mistress of your house by that designation?
It is a solecism in good manners to suppose it unsuitable to designate the members of your own family by their proper titles under all circumstances that would render it suitable and convenient to do so in the instance of other persons. Never fall into the American peculiarity on this point, I entreat you. Say—"My father, Dr. V——," or "My sister, Miss V——," "Mrs. Col. V——, my sister-in-law," or, "My sister, Mrs. John Jenkins," with as scrupulous a regard for rank and precedence, as though dealing with strangers. Indeed, you virtually ignore all personal considerations, while acting in a social relation merely.
The rules of etiquette very properly interdict indiscriminate introductions in general society. No one has a right to thrust the acquaintance of persons upon each other without their permission, or, at least, without some assurance that it will be agreeable to them to know each other. Strangers meeting at the house of a mutual friend, in a morning visit, or the like, converse with each other, or join in the general conversation without an introduction, which it is not usual among fashionable people to give under such circumstances. If you wish to present a gentleman of your acquaintance to a lady, you first ask her permission, either in person or by note, to take him to her house, if she be married, or to do so at a party, etc., where you may chance to meet her. In the instance of a very young lady, propriety demands your obtaining the consent of one of her parents before adding to her list of male acquaintances, unless you are upon such terms of intimacy with her family and herself, as to render this superfluous; and so with all your friends. It is better, however, even where unceremoniousness is admissible, to err upon the safer side.
Among men, greater license may be taken; but, as a rule, I repeat, persons are not introduced in the street, in pump-rooms, in the public parlors of hotels, or watering-places, meeting incidentally at receptions or at morning visits, etc.; and not even when they are your guests at large dinners, or soirées, without their previous assent or request.
Of course, such rules, like all the laws of convention, are established and followed for convenience, and should not be regarded, like those of the Medes and Persians, as unchangeable. Good sense and good feeling will vary them with the changes of circumstance. No amiable person, for instance, will hesitate to set them aside for the observance of the more imperative law of kindness, when associated with those who are ignorant of their existence (as many really excellent persons are), and would be pained by their strict observance. Neither should the most punctilious sticklers for form think it necessary to make a parade of the mere letter of such rules, at any time. It is the spirit we want, for the promotion of social convenience and propriety.
Perhaps it may be as well in this connection as in any other, to say a word about the matter of visiting cards.
Fashion sanctions a variety of forms for this necessary appendage. In Europe, it is very common to affix the professional or political title to the name, as "—— ——, Professor in the University of Heidelburg," or, "—— ——, Conseiller d'Etat,"; and an Englishman in public life often has on his card the cabalistic characters—"In H.M.S."—(in Her Majesty's Service). Among the best-bred Americans, I think the prevalent usage is to adopt the simple signature, as "Henry Wise," or to prefix the title of Mr., as "Mr. Seward." Sometimes,—particularly for cards to be used away from home—the place of residence is also engraved in one corner below the name.[11]
Europeans occasionally adopt the practice of having the corners of the reverse side of their cards engraven across with such convenient words as "Pour dire Adieu" (to say good bye). "Congratulation" (to offer congratulations). "Pour affaire" (on an errand, or on business). "Arrivé" (tantamount to "in town"). The appropriate corner is turned over, as occasion requires, and the sentence is thus brought into notice on the same side with the name.