The Value of Etiquette to the Poor

One's clothing may be naught but rags and tatters, but if he bear the impress of a gentleman he is honored and respected by all.— Photo source, Twitter from workhouses.org.uk

It is the birthright of an American citizen to rise from the ranks of poverty to the highest gift of the people, if he but possess the ability. Whatever the circumstances, no one likes to admit his poverty. Of all things which make us most easily forget a man's poverty, the practice of good manners is most efficient. One's clothing may be naught but rags and tatters, but if he bear the impress of a gentleman he is honored and respected by all. The graceful air and self-reliant feeling which belong to a well-bred man, are the most effectual antidotes for the stings of poverty. Many a poor man, not only in this but in other lands, has found his way into the society of the best, only on the favor granted because of his manners. One may be poor, yet if he possess good manners and an amiable style in his intercourse with people, his poverty is soon lost amid the good will and friendly feeling created among his associates. Therefore let the young man or the young woman of humble circumstances take courage and set to work at once to acquire a knowledge of the laws and usages of good society.— From “Rules of Etiquette and Home Culture,” 1889

🍽️Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Gilded Age Snobbery and Charity

It’s too bad that charity began at the bazaars, but ended at the idea of showing any charity towards the parvenus or newly wealthy of the era!
– Meme from magicalquote.com

Gilded Age Humor on One’s Lineage 

Mrs. Muscovado— “The Newriches are people who don’t know who their grandparents were.”

 Mrs. Rockoil — “Oh, yes, they do, but they hope no one else does” — Harper’s Bazaar, 1893

Charity has been defined as this state of things: That so soon as ‘A’ is in trouble ‘B’ begins to consider what ‘C’ ought to do for him. All charitable fairs, for instance, are based on this principle. You go and buy something which you probably do not want in order that the profit made on it may go to some good cause. In case you had really wanted what you bought you would have perhaps bought it somewhere else, and the regular trade thus suffers from the loss of your custom. 

In the case of very large fairs, like the “sanitary fairs” in wartime, the ordinary local trade unquestionably suffers, perhaps for a whole year, and the community is thus impoverished to a degree in one way so that it may be helped in other ways. For a great national object, this can easily be endured, although, to be sure, we never have known just what the regular dealers thought about it. But when we consider that the same thing is done to some extent on behalf of every local or sectarian enterprise, it is evident that the principle of the affair is not quite satisfactory. 

Suppose, for instance, that we were all to agree for a single year to have all our shoes and hats made by amateurs “for sweet charity’s sake,” and to have a single church or hospital take the value of them all. Then sweet charity would make an apparent gain no doubt, but all the ordinary hatmakers and shoemakers would starve. Or, if they did not starve, they would be supported by their kindred, who perhaps are not for above the starvation point themselves, or they would be supported by sweet charity, and the last condition of things would be worse than the first. 

It is not really the fact that the evils of society can be greatly helped by dressing up young girls prettily and having them take money and give rather inaccurate change at a bazaar table. One day, perhaps, when the laws of trade are better understood, we shall look at charity fairs as we already look at lotteries, which were once regarded as one of the highest forms of sweet charity, but which are now prohibited by law.— Harper’s Bazaar, 1897

🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Gilded Age Glove Extravagence

“Gloves,” commented a woman recently, could never be had so satisfactorily as now. There is no excuse for any one wearing an ill fitting glove when they can be made to order and a perfect fit obtained. In some places here in New-York gloves are altered while you wait, just as a dress or cloak is. Often one finger will be too long or a thumb too broad or too tight, while the rest of the glove fits perfectly. 
–Image source, Instagram

“Gloves,” commented a woman recently, could never be had so satisfactorily as now. There is no excuse for any one wearing an ill fitting glove when they can be made to order and a perfect fit obtained. In some places here in New-York gloves are altered while you wait, just as a dress or cloak is. Often one finger will be too long or a thumb too broad or too tight, while the rest of the glove fits perfectly. A recent feature in some of the New-York shops is the keeping in repair of gloves sold at such shops. This is often a real convenience to busy wonion, and as the stitch in time is apt to be taken if somebody else will take it, the gloves last longer in consequence.

All of this glove talk is for the economist. The fashionable woman of wealth buys her gloves by the dozen, wears them only till the first freshness has gone, will not have them cleaned, and tosses them aside as she does her faded flowers. Not long ago, in a pretty morning room up town, belonging to the daughter of a rich man even among New-York's rich men, there sat, chatting lightly after the fashion of their kind, four young girls– one the owner of the room, the other three friends. 

They had all been at the same dance the night before, and the hostess was taking down the gown she had worn from the clothes tree, where it hung, to show and comment on a mishap which had nearly ruined its new Parisian elegance. As she did so, the long gloves, exactly the shade of the dress, fell to the floor. One of the girls picked them up. “Thank you,” said their owner, noticing her. “Their usefulness is over, too; but, fortunately, I bought six pairs of the same shade to have plenty of fresh ones.” 

“But these look perfectly fresh yet,” commented another of the girls. “No, they're not,” was the answer. “A pair of gloves to a dance is my invariable rule. And I never wear cleaned gloves.” “Well. I do.” “And I,” “And I,” came from her companions. Whereupon the pretty hostess turned quickly: “Why, girls,” she cried, “if that's the case, go through my glove drawer and stock yourselves up. There’s many a pair there will bear cleaning.” And she drew out a wide, shallow drawer in the bottom of a wardrobe. “Here.” she said, “is where I throw discarded gloves, and every once in a while I bundle off a lot of them to a little friend of mine in the country. She won't miss one drawerful.”

The girls laughed, and seated themselves on the floor before the drawer. The gloves were in balls, a pair to a ball, and when they were unrolled, smoothed, and laid out, not a pair was found with a rent or any marked soil. Seventy genuine pairs of gloves by actual count was the yield of the drawer, which gave each of the three twenty-five pairs apiece, with four pair thrown back for “the little friend in the country.” – From “Her Point of View,” New York Times, 1892

 🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber of The RSVP Institute of Etiquette, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia