by Robert LaFrance
One book by Izaak Walton, the 17th century English writer, is considered the ‘bible’ of fishing. “The Compleat Angler” tells the fisherman everything he should know about bringing supper in from the trout stream. Other books are considered ‘bibles’ in their own fields, and there are a lot of fields around. There are 800-page tomes about the many ways of building plywood cabinets, and there is the Bible itself, the world’s best-selling book that everyone owns but few read.
Today I want to talk about the ‘bible’ of etiquette, or manners. Last week at a secondhand book sale I came across “Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Etiquette”.
The later great humour writer Will Rogers used to say he was ‘just mangy with etiquette’ and I would say that description equally applies to me, at least the mangy part (according to certain relatives). When I started reading “Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Etiquette” it became clear just how mangy I really am. And you are too, if Ms. Vanderbilt is correct, so don’t look down your vulgar nose at me.
Chapter one of the book describes just how a baby should be christened. After perusing this text, I was then aware of the mistakes we had made with our three kids and why they turned out so bad. Instead of phoning people to come to the church (this was the late 1980s and early 1990s and phones had just come to Kincardine) we should have sent short notes of invitation. The author even told us how to dress the boy or girl for the church ceremony.
What rotten parents we were!
One of the many things I did find curious about the book was the fact that this christening information came in that first chapter, but it was chapter three before we learned the proper way of putting on a wedding ceremony. The cart arrived somewhat before the horse there!
Ms. Vanderbilt even laid out the ground rules for an elopement. The couple about to whip off to Minto for a quick ceremony in front of a JP are advised to inform all their friends and relatives before they elope, or while they are motoring down the TCH. She mentioned stopping at a phone booth along the way, one assumes because the only cell phones around at that time were located in jails.
Growing up in Tilley, NB, I of course know about etiquette. Mother would clout me if I smelled up the house, but then I would question why she had cooked beans. I pointed to Sir John A. Macdonald, who was famous for that, and often referred to that old saying: “Imitation is the sincerest form of flatulence”. However, she would just whack me again for impertinence as well as flatulence.
As one who buys lottery tickets every week, I was especially interested in the etiquette section about how one deals with servants. Once I win the big one, a butler, a gardener, and a couple of scullery maids (whatever ‘scullery’ means) will be practically mandatory. In the book, Amy Vanderbilt outlined how to give servants their instructions for the day: “Notes sent down to servants should always be pleasant and clear. It may be necessary to leave a note of criticism from time to time, but it had better be tactfully phrased.”
I supposed what she meant by that was that servants can buy lottery tickets too, and with a little bad luck or bad investments you could end up as your cook’s valet.
There is also a way to refuse the offer of a dance. If a woman were to say: “What! Are you crazy? Go away. I wouldn’t dance with you if you had just won the lottery like the guy in the paragraph above” that wouldn’t go over so well. Instead a lady would say to a gentlemen, according to this book of etiquette: “No thank you, I don’t believe I’m free right now.” This sort of response to a request for a dance might bring a polite ‘thank you anyway’, but there are those who might react with a little less politeness, as in: “I didn’t expect you to be free, but I have a certain amount of cash with me in case I met someone of your ilk.” When he regained consciousness…
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