A reader recently cited Hilaire Belloc's poem "Courtesy," which I swiftly realized was not about good manners but about the great graciously addressing the small, like an adult getting to his knees to talk to a six-year-old face-to-face. When someone dressed in their Sunday best voluntarily grasps the humble objects of domestic drudgery, like a sponge or dishcloth or hoover, that is courtesy.
It is also service, to which all Christians are called, and done in company it can be fun. It is less fun done alone, so I am grateful for the courtesy of our young people. Indeed, now that I think about it, one of our youngest, a cherub with a kingly name, consented to wipe the tables. I must tell his mother.
A look inside the change dish caused me a pang, however, for it seems our noble company believes that the milk, coffee and biscuits come from an invisible parish cow, coffee garden and biscuit tree. So now I will write, with no assistance from Mrs Humphry, Mrs Maclean, and Ward, Lock & Co., about good manners and the change dish before discussing dancing.
Parish change dishes
It is good manners to put a 10 pence piece or perhaps a 20 pence piece in the parish change dish after accepting a cup of coffee or tea and before taking a biscuit or two, so that some unknown--but real--person is not left out of pocket.
(I admit to an interest in the case.)
If the approach of a cashless society is making that too difficult, the donation of a packet of biscuits is a good substitute, as would be (locally) a package of Taylor's Lazy Sunday Ground Coffee (currently on sale at Tesco £3.75). My predecessors, in their wisdom, made coffee from a big tin of instant coffee supplied (I hope) by the archdiocese. Our freshly brewed coffee is a natural, but costly, post-liturgical development. Perhaps one day we will reach the baroque heights of a cappuccino machine before some Bugnini of the Teapot throws it into the bin and reintroduces instant coffee in a calculated fit of archaeologism.
Dances
I have written about dances before (here for example), but I always enjoy an opportunity to do so again. Now I will invite Mrs Humphry (1897), Messrs Ward, Lock & Co (1930) and Mrs Maclean (no relation, 1962) back into the discussion. I will also reintroduce Mr Smagris, my YouTube dancing instructor.
Kinds of Dances
Etiquette books of the 1897 - 1962 era describe three principal types of dances: the private ball, the private dance, and the subscription dance. I am not going to write about the private ball, for almost nobody I know can afford one--except perhaps for their wedding, and you can easily read all about wedding etiquette somewhere else.
The private dance vs the 1920s subscription dance
Roughly speaking, a private dance is one arranged by one hostess, and a subscription dance was one arranged by two or more hostesses, or a committee.
At a private dance, the hostess (and/or her husband) pays for everything, and she greets all her guests personally as they arrive. The guests then go into the ballroom where they greet her husband and grown-up children (if any), who introduce them to appropriate dance partners. The guests thus start filling in their dance cards, if there are dance cards. All the men are expected to solicit a dance with the daughters of the house (if any). When they leave, the guests say good-bye to the hostess.
A private dance might be an afternoon dance (with the words "Dancing 4 to 7" on the invitation), or a dinner dance, during which the "dancing is not kept up until a late hour" (Ward, Lock & Co.).
Both Ward, Lock & Co. and Mrs Maclean mention the possibility of having dinner in one place and then hosting the dance in another. In this situation, you transport your dinner party guests with you to the dance.
At the 1920s subscription dance, each hostess greeted her own friends, the ones to whom she may have sold tickets. Interestingly, the hostesses could club together to pay for everything, or they could sell tickets to their friends. If the guests did not buy tickets, they were expected to bid their own hostess good-night. However, if they had bought tickets, they weren't. Of course, there was no rule that ticket-buyers couldn't say "Thank you for organizing the dance" to the hostesses or committee.
My 2023 thoughts: The structure offered by the pre-1963 private dance could work very well for small, semi-private, unstaffed, ticketed dances. One committee member could welcome each guest when he or she comes in, so he or she sees a friendly face immediately upon arrival. This committee member (and/or) an assistant could hang up their coats, give them dance cards, and send them on in to another committee member, who introduces them to other guests. This committee member could also explain what the dance cards are for.
Dress for Dances
In the preconciliar era, clothing for British dances was formal. In 1962, it seems men were expected to wear white tie and tailcoats to "official dances," and black tie and dinner jackets (tuxedos) to everything else. Women were expected to wear evening dress according to the year's fashions. That said, Mrs Maclean directs ladies to wear full skirts and medium heels if "Scottish reels" are on the dance program.
But Mrs Maclean also describes informal dances with "gramophone" for teenagers. At these (in hindsight questionable) gatherings, boys wore slacks and shirts, and girls ordinary dresses or even slacks.
My 2023 thoughts: In my experience, organizers of balls or large formal dances indicate the formality of dress expected in their invitations or tickets. In Scotland, a man can never go wrong in wearing Highland dress to an evening dance. I venture to say men can't go wrong in wearing black tie, either, as long as white tie is merely optional. Women wear long evening dresses to white tie or black tie events in Edinburgh. (Short skirts were few and far between at the Malta Ball in both 2022 and 2023.)
At less formal events, like a Sunday tea dance, suits-and-ties are more appropriate. In a pinch good old cords-shirt-sweater-tie-tweed jacket will do, or if this is just too Young Fogey, whatever the guest's Sunday Best is. As for women, Vernon and Irene Castle, writing in 1914, praise "full frocks of soft chiffon" and "low-heeled easy slippers" but note that blouses and skirts are also seen at tea dances. My opinion is that what a young lady wears to the Sunday TLM will do for a Sunday tea dance--minus the chapel veil, of course, and with low heels for the more bouncy dances.
In terms of décolletage at trad events, my advice is to at least try to find something with a four-fingers-below-the-collarbone neckline. (Sharp-eyed locals will point out that my terrible V-necks do not meet this standard. I know, I know. One of my New Year's Resolution is to buy new clothes.) Meanwhile, all women know it is exceedingly difficult to find a formal dress with a long skirt and a high neck, let alone long skirt, high neck, and sleeves, without looking like you fell into a time machine in 1972.
Dance Deportment
RSVPs
If you are invited to a private dance, let the host or hostess know ASAP if you intend to come. 48 hours to check your diary or consult loved ones should suffice. If invited to buy a ticket, you can certainly have more time to mull it over. Keep an eye out for any deadlines, however. At a semi-private dance where tickets are sold only within the community (as in the 1920s subscription dance), tickets will not be sold at the door. If you are new to that community, do not be surprised if the committee refuses to sell you a ticket without asking who you are and where you heard about the event. This is particularly true if you are so unfortunate as to share the name of a local career criminal.
Introductions
At a formal private dance, it is the duty of the host or hostess to introduce guests to each other. At a more chaotic informal subscription dance, guests should ask committee members or fellow guests they know to introduce them to the guests they know. In a pinch, gentlemen should ask ladies if they may introduce themselves. (The sound you hear is Mrs Humphry rolling in her grave.) By the way, 1897 ballroom introductions didn't "count," and if a woman liked, she could pass by mere ballroom acquaintances on the street with a mere nod.
Dance cards
These are for both men and women. All the dances are listed with blank spaces for the partners' names, and they make life easy by allowing men to ask women for dances in advance. Traditionally, a man is not supposed to solicit more than two dances from the same woman. The dance cards make nice souvenirs. You can sigh over them when you are elderly before selling them on eBay.
How to be asked for a dance
Traditionally young women go to dances escorted by their parents, family members, or an older female friend. They are introduced to young men by the host, and the young men politely ask if the young women could spare them a dance on their dance cards. (You see here the brilliance of both introductions and the dance card.) They exchange dance cards to write down their names. Then the young women move into the room to greet their other friends (the male ones hopefully reserving a dance). When the music starts, they wait by their chaperones or friends to be collected for their reserved dances.
If not all their dances are reserved (or there are no dance cards), the women should make sure their backs are NOT to the dance floor and that they are NOT huddled in a group of fellow females only the bravest or most foolhardy man would attempt to break up. They should watch the dancing as if they are interested in dancing.
In a pinch, a young lady can ask a female friend to ask her brother to ask her to dance, and in return she should lean on her own brothers to do their duty. Mrs Humphry should not hold up her nose; I am sure this carryon happened also in 1897.
And in 1797.
How to ask a woman to dance
This is very easy if you have reserved your dances ahead of time. As the music is about to start, or just after it has started, you find your partner sitting with her friends and you offer your right hand with the words, "May I have this dance?" or "I believe this is our dance" or some polite variation on that theme.
The young lady is supposed to drape her left hand over yours, like a towel over a towel bar, and you lead her to the dance floor. Success!
If, however, she says "No, thank you. I want to sit this one out" or (better) "Do you mind terribly if I sit this one out?" you should ask her if you could bring her a glass of anything to drink. If she says no to that, too, you are free to ask another young woman to dance. Please do. Look for the one staring at the dance floor with her heart in her eyes.
How to respond to a man's invitation to dance
At a private dance or a subscription dance in your community, "Yes, thank you very much" should be your answer 99.9% of the time. At a public dance, feel free to turn down all the dances you like. The kind of dance communities that assure you that you can turn down dances with social impunity are also those that applaud members of the same sex dancing together. Yes, well. Take it away, Laura.
In Trad circles where we are trying to restore Western Civilization, say "Yes, thank you very much" unless you really are exhausted or have hurt yourself, or the elastic on your underpants has snapped, or you know for a fact that the man is handsy. If you say "No, thank you," you may not then accept an invitation for that particular dance from someone else. (By the way, if the man is handsy, tell the hostess in strict confidence. It is not detraction if you disclose an evil to prevent more evil from happening. If any man does anything to disturb any of my female guests, I certainly want to know so I can feed him to the seals in the Firth of Forth drop him from my list.)
As I am sure I've written before, you can soften your "No" by suggesting that the young man ask a young lady you know is dying to dance. (Obviously don't offer an alternative victim to Mr. Handsy.)
But if you have said "Yes, thank you," you drape your left hand over the man's proffered right hand and suffer to be led to the dance floor.
What to do when the dance is over
Traditionally, when the dance is over, the man offers the woman his right hand, she drapes her left over it, he leads her back to her friends, and he thanks her for the dance. That sure beats standing on the floor together feeling awkward, which is the new normal of which we wish to be rid.
To avoid the lady's confusion, I suppose that, until we take over the world, the man should offer the woman his right hand while asking outright if he may take her back to her friends/chair. He might also ask her if she would like a drink at the refreshment table and offer his arm if she says yes. If the woman asks why he is being so formal, he could say that he is a traditionalist bent on restoring Western Civilization.
The Interval
Traditionally refreshments are offered during a dance. (A full-fledged ball has a sit-down supper.) My guides to 1897 and 1930 describe dance refreshments as "simple." Ward, Lock & Co observes that "iced drinks, tea and coffee, sandwiches and cakes only are provided."
My 2023 thoughts are that there must always be water and squash available to dancers throughout and that in the evening "iced drinks" could include beer and wine, depending on licensing laws.
At a dances where there were no waitstaff, men were expected to wait on ladies during the interval or "stand-up supper," asking the one he was dancing with last if he could serve her a sandwich or fill her glass, etc. (He was expected to offer to do this between dances, too.) When the woman was done with her dishes, he was supposed to take them from her. When Mrs Humphry wrote soulfully in Manners for Men about self-denial being the price of social life, she was probably thinking of things like that.
At any rate, if a very correct young man, having made a study of good manners before the Deluge Second Vatican Council, offers a young lady a sandwich or slice of cake from the refreshments table or to fill her glass, she should not say "I can do it myself, thanks." She should say "No, thank you," or "Yes, thank you," or "I'll have a little of the carrot cake, please. Thank you!"
Despite what Hollywood would have you believe, men worth knowing do not enjoy women being abjectly rude to them. This is a confusing, as men love to fake-insult each other. However, unless you enjoy being mistaken for a man, I would save brushoffs for those men whom you never wish to see again.
The End of the Dance
At the end of a private dance, you thank your host or hostess, go home and write a thank you note the next day. If it was a relatively informal tea dance, email or social media will suffice. But if it was obviously a blowout, complete with paid band, send a card or letter.
If it was a semi-private community dance for which you bought a ticket, you don't have to say goodbye to the organizers or send them a thank you note. However, if there is no waitstaff, and if you have no train to catch and no young person to take home to her anxious parents, you would be doing a very good deed if you found an organizer and offered to help clean up. If the organizers have not yet learned that they need to reserve team of volunteers in future, they will be abjectly grateful to you, especially if they have hired the hall by the hour. You are under no obligation, however.
The floor is now open to questions.
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