Men and lntroductions.—Men seldom ask introductions. They have the privilege of speaking without them. A man's title should always be given him in an introduction. A man must request permission before bringing another man to be introduced to a woman or to a friend's house. In the latter case he will present his companions to the lady of the house and any of the family who are present; if others arrive, the hostess should introduce him to them.
After an introduction, the man waits for the woman to recognize him at their next meeting. She should bow, even if she does not care to establish an acquaintance. A casual introduction between women may not be recognized afterwards, though a slight bow is more courteous.
A Few Things Not To Do.—Do not introduce a person as your "'friend." It is not supposed you will introduce anyone who is not a friend. Moreover, in certain circles the term friend is employed in naming a companion, secretary, governess or managing housekeeper to one's guests. In this connection it may be mentioned that one should not speak of "visiting a friend" or "staying at a friend's house." Name the person referred to; or if you do not wish to do so, do not allude to the circumstance. Naturally, one visits only friends.
The indistinctness with which people who introduce often pronounce a name is not infrequently the cause of awkwardness. The failure to hear is no fault on the part of those introduced, but rather a mishap chargeable to the person who brings them together. In this case, try to think of something besides "I didn't catch the name;" that is so cut and dried. Say rather, "I'm sorry, but I didn't understand Mrs. A. when she presented me." Forgetting a name in the act of introducing someone is a much more grievous failure; it speaks for your own social unaccustomedness, and is a poor compliment to the person you introduce. Do not attempt an introduction unless you are sure of your names.
One of the society woman's most necessary accomplishments is the ability to remember names and fit them to the individual to whom they belong. It is an art she should sedulously cultivate.
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It is not etiquette, but misplaced politeness, to perform what may be termed casual introductions—as in accidental encounters. Never introduce on the street, unless your acquaintance is to join you. Don't introduce in a street car or any public conveyance. In "our best society"—so-called—it is not considered good form to introduce people in church. People do not go to church for social purposes. In village neighborhoods and the less fashionable city churches, this rule is often violated in the vestibule, where acquaintances linger to greet each other and introductions are not infrequent. But in the body of the church—the space set apart for purposes of worship—an introduction is wholly out of place.
Try to remember family relationships and feuds, that you may not attempt to introduce those at enmity with each other. A woman once introduced, at a crowded function, two sisters who had not recognized each other for years, and afterwards exulted in having "made them speak." Their manners were far superior to hers.
In Company.—At a reception or dinner-party it is perfectly proper for those who have never been introduced to converse with each other without such formality. The roof under which they meet confers the privilege. Indeed, it is often the greatest kindness to speak to a shy person or one who evidently has few acquaintances present, relieving his embarrassment and putting him at ease. Not to reply courteously to such overtures is great rudeness. The story is told of a prominent society woman who addressed a stranger at such a function and actually received no reply. Later, the hostess brought up the strange person and introduced her. Then she explained that, not having been properly introduced, she felt she could not respond. The society woman quietly remarked, "Oh, was that the trouble? I thought you were deaf and dumb."
The late H. C. Bunner and the more recently deceased T. B. Aldrich cherished an aversion for each other. They were not acquainted, but disliked each other on general principles, both being engaged in literary work. They happened to meet at an entertainment where Bunner was in the house of his friends and Aldrich an outsider. Bunner's native kindliness and courtesy made it impossible for him to see anyone uncomfortable in a friend's house. He introduced himself, carried Aldrich to his host's "den," and over a cigar and a glass of "Scotch" began a friendship that was ended only by death.