THE WOULD-BE-GENTEEL LADY.

In such a country as ours—a country of “workies”—where there exists no privileged class, falsely so called, unless idleness and ennui are privileges, one might suppose that a passion for gentility would be confined to the fashionable circles of the city; that the bees would as soon be found giving preference to fashionable flowers, or aiming at a fashionable style of architecture in their hives, as the busy matrons and maidens of New England, for instance, directing their thoughts, mainly, to genteel modes of living, dressing, and behaving.

Doctor Johnson derives the word genteel, from the Latin word gentilis: meaning “of the same house, family name, ancestry, etc.” Its meaning has, probably, undergone as many modifications as the word heretic, of which the most accurate definition I have ever heard was given by a young boy of twelve: “A heretic is a person that don’t 16believe as you do.” It is plain he had not obtained this information from books, but from society. In like manner an ungenteel person is, with many, one who does not live, dress, and act, in all respects, as they do. The orthodoxy of one age or country, is the heresy of another; and the gentility of one, is the vulgarity of another.

Thus it is with fashion, the handmaid of gentility; who has been well described as a jade that stalks through one country with the cast-off clothes of another; and the modes and forms of gentility are as variable as the wayward humors of those vacant-minded people who lead the fashion.

How much more respectable, how much more American it would be for us, of this country, to limit the word, in our application of it, to something like its original meaning, and make gentility consist in living and acting conformably to the circumstances of one’s family or station—not in a slavish, ignoble imitation of comparatively a few self-styled favored mortals, whose lot is cast in a different, but not a happier sphere.

There is one indispensable condition of absolute gentility, in the popular sense, which very few in our country can command, viz. an exemption from labor; and a hard condition it is—not for 17those who lose caste on its account, but for those who, by fulfilling it, acquire caste. God made us to be active in mind and body—he gave a spring to universal being—and standing water is the fit emblem of a stagnant life. But even those to whom this exemption may seem desirable, cannot enjoy it, generally speaking, in our country.

A southern gentleman, describing a New England dinner, said, “In the first place, at the head of the table is always a roasted lady.” Now, although a southern dinner may not have so displeasing an accompaniment, we are assured by those who have been behind the scenes in families abounding with slaves, that the mistress herself is the greatest slave of all, since all the headwork, and some part of the handy-work too, must be done by her; for instance, she must weigh out the food, and cut out the garments of her family servants.

But, notwithstanding this serious obstacle, nowhere, we are assured, is there such a strife for gentility, as in this country, where every other strife most incompatible with that, is perpetually carried on.

It is said to be peculiar to us, that our villages ape, so minutely, the fashions of our cities; that 18no sooner is a new fashion of dress, or of the sleeve alone of a dress, introduced into the city, than straightway, as by magic, every sleeve in the country, from the shoulder of the squire’s wife to that of her youngest maid, is fashioned precisely after the same model, or, if varied at all, exaggerated for the purpose of being extremely fashionable. The stoutest ploughboy in the land will not think of being married, without a silk stocking to his brawny foot. Nor do our female domestics consider their wardrobe quite complete without, at least, one silk gown and one linen-cambric pocket-handkerchief.

And how soon is the infection caught by foreigners who come among us! The sturdy German girl, although she may not immediately reject her national peasants’ costume of stout cotton stripe, and foot-gear adapted to the out-of-door work she has been accustomed to, will be very likely to surmount all with a “tasty” silk hat. All this may be very agreeable as a proof of prosperity; but it must be remembered that prosperity without discretion, is as unprofitable as zeal without knowledge.

R. Westall W. Cook. “Child of the thoughtful brow.”

19We laugh at these demonstrations in our inferiors, without considering that we are guilty of absurdities quite as palpable to those in another rank from ourselves. It is said that ladies of moderate fortune in America, dress far more expensively than those of a corresponding rank in Europe; that we indulge in many expensive articles of dress which they would not think of wearing.

I once knew a lady with whom the passion for gentility amounted almost to a disease. It seemed, in her, an innate propensity, or, at least, it was very difficult to account for it. Born in an obscure country village, not entitled, either by her rank in life, character, education, or circumstances, to take precedence of her compeers, she nevertheless very early began to assume airs of great consequence, on account of superior notions in regard to gentility. Probably, feeling the desire which all have for consequence, and having nothing else to build it upon, she had recourse to extraordinary precision in various points of dress and bearing, in which she vainly imagined gentility chiefly to consist.

Her father was a shop-keeper, or, as we are accustomed to say, a merchant, doing business on a small scale; both her parents were uneducated, 20ignorant and small-minded people, but simple and unassuming. Her ideas of gentility, therefore, had been principally derived from novels, and from intercourse with some of her companions who had enjoyed a privilege she greatly coveted, but could not be allowed, of a six months’ residence at a city boarding-school.

As a young lady, the great objects of her ambition were a languid, delicate appearance, and a white hand. This strange perversion of the human mind is, I fear, not very unfrequent in young ladies, and is a legitimate consequence of subscription to a creed which virtually says, “I believe that those only are entitled to the highest place in society, who have nothing to do.” Health is the vulgar privilege of the working-man. But what a total absence of all real claims to interest and admiration is implied in a young lady’s relying for them, mainly, upon a sickly look! Who would exchange roses, pinks, and lilies, with all their beauty and fragrance, for the pale and scentless ghost-flower?

My heroine, in order to effect this favorite object, had recourse to means which I should not like to specify, but which are only too familiar, 21I fear, to many of her sex—until her health became so seriously impaired that she was, all her life, a sufferer in consequence.

Her mother, as mothers are apt to be, was exceedingly indulgent to her, and although herself obliged to strain every nerve in order to bring up comfortably and respectably a large family, upon very limited means, seldom obliged her to put her shoulder to the burden. If it did sometimes happen that she was inevitably called upon to do other than some of the “light work” of the family, a flood of tears washed out the disgraceful stain. She had, therefore, the privilege of preserving her hands white, while her mother’s wore the vulgar aspect and complexion of hard drudgery. And yet this abominable selfishness was not the “original sin” of her nature; it was the result of her mind being diseased on the subject of gentility.

But it was not until her marriage, when she became Mrs. William Rutherford, and attained to the dignity of a housekeeper and matron, that her passion was fully developed. This was one of those marriages brought about, as many are said to be, “by juxta-position.” William Rutherford, the son of a farmer, a plain, sensible, energetic 22young man, who had, very honorably to himself, made his own way in the world, studied in a lawyer’s office overlooking a garden in which our heroine often strayed.

The sight of a pretty girl walking among the flowers, was an agreeable variety to one whose vision rested many hours in the day upon the grave-looking, monotonous pages of a law-book. He sometimes joined her, and she gave him flowers, for which, without any reference to its being genteel or ungenteel to like them, she had a genuine admiration; and a jar that stood upon his study table was daily supplied from her hand. She was rather pretty, excessively neat in her appearance, and seemed always amiable.

The most energetic person in the world is not insensible to the necessity, or at least the agreeability of excitement, and by degrees the plain, simple, natural, sensible William Rutherford was led on until he plighted heart and hand to this very pretensionary and foolish young woman. O the rashness of young men, and young women, too, in these momentous matters!

Mrs. Rutherford had too much of the instinct of a New England woman not to make a good housekeeper. She had profited by the lessons 23received from her notable mother, albeit an unwilling and truant pupil. She was excessively nice in her habits, and would have her house in order even at the cruel sacrifice of vulgar personal exertions; but these were kept secret as possible from neighbors and visitors.

An unfortunate visit which she made, the first year of her marriage, to a cousin who had married a wealthy merchant in New York, greatly enlarged her ideas on the subject of gentility. She had previously set her heart upon a watch, as one of the ensignia, (now forsooth that very convenient article is very commonly laid aside because it is vulgar to wear it!) but now she had in addition constantly before her eyes, in distant perspective, a Brussels carpet, hair sofa, mahogany chairs, and silver forks. These, though constituting a small part of her cousin’s splendor, were almost unknown articles in the village where she lived, and, therefore, would be sufficient to distinguish her.

Although her husband was a thriving lawyer, and had his fair proportion of the business done in the county, yet his income was moderate; and having amassed no property previous to his marriage, it was necessary that in all his arrangements, 24he should have reference to economy. Great pains were, therefore, necessary on the part of Mrs. Rutherford to secure these objects of her ambition. Never did a politician keep more steadily in view what are supposed to be the politician’s aim, office and power—never did the military hero keep his eye more steadfastly fixed upon the wreaths of victory with which he hoped to grace his brow, than did Mrs. Rutherford upon her hair sofa, Brussels carpet, mahogany chairs, and silver forks. For these she lived, and for these she would have done any thing—but die. There is, alas! no fashionable furniture for the grave; it has no privilege save that of rest to the weary. The folly of “garnering up one’s heart” in the cunning but perishable works of man’s device, in outward show, is very striking when exhibited

on so small a scale; magnificence covers up the folly to many eyes.

Objects pursued with such steady determination are almost sure to be gained in time. Mrs. Rutherford practised great economy with reference to their attainment, and although her husband had a far juster sense of the right use of property, and had no taste for making more show than his neighbors—what will not a quiet, peace-loving 25man do, that he can do, to tranquilize the restless, unsatisfied spirit of his wife?

Poor Rutherford was a much enduring man. If during the sitting of the court, (for he lived in the county town,) he invited some brother lawyers to dine with him, there being but an hour’s adjournment, and the dinner failed to appear seasonably, no earthly consideration would have induced his wife to leave the room and inquire into the reason of the delay—and still less to do what she might toward preventing its further continuance: because it would be ungenteel for the lady of the house not to be sitting in state with her guests—and horribly vulgar to be supposed conversant with the mysteries of the kitchen.

When the dinner arrived at last, if her only servant, who officiated in the double capacity of cook and waiter, were obliged to leave the room, not a plate must be passed until she returned to do the thing according to rule. No consideration of urgent haste—of comfort or convenience—was to be weighed for a moment with that of having her table genteelly served.

But, notwithstanding her extreme anxiety to do the honors of her house, in what she supposed the most approved manner, she was utterly incapable 26of performing the most important, dignified, and graceful part of the duty of a hostess,—that of contributing to the intellectual entertainment of her guests. In fact, she was deplorably ignorant. To give a single example: The conversation falling one day upon old English poetry, a gentleman said to her, “I believe, Mrs. Rutherford, that Pope is not so great a favorite with the ladies as formerly.” “I don’t know, indeed, sir,” she replied; “was he a novelist? Scott is the favorite novelist now, I believe.”

It was indispensable to her system to have always the air of being waited upon. If the fire were down ever so low, she would prefer waiting any length of time, until her servant of all-work could answer the bell, rather than help herself to a stick of wood, although close at hand. A friend knocking for admission, might almost go away without getting it, if there were no one but the lady of the house to open the door. Even a journey, recommended by her physician, for her only child, who had suffered much from teething, was not to be thought of, because the additional expense of a nurse could not be afforded: and it was so vulgar to travel with a young child without a nurse! And yet she was not an unfeeling 27mother—she would do anything for her child that was not vulgar. Nights of weary watching, and days of laborious nursing, she submitted to with true maternal devotion. Even in his very wardrobe, her husband’s comfort was abridged, in conformity with her notions of what gentility required, inasmuch as at no season would he be allowed a cotton shirt, which in the winter he

greatly preferred.

I said that by degrees Mrs. Rutherford attained all her objects. I beg her pardon—the silver forks were still wanting to her complete happiness. Against these her husband took his stand with the determination of a desperate man. He said they were very proper for those to use who were born with silver spoons in their mouths—very proper for those who could afford them; but for a young man in his circumstances, the introduction of such an article into his establishment would be perfectly preposterous—that silver forks would be a poor inheritance to his daughter, provided he left her nothing to eat with them. It was so very unusual for her husband to oppose her, that Mrs. Rutherford knew his opposition was not impulsive—not lightly resolved upon; and she yielded to it submissively.

28The child was of course included in the mother’s plans of gentility. She was not suffered to attend school for fear she should contract vulgarity from her schoolmates. Great pains were bestowed upon her dress; and as what is deficient in money must be made up in time, there was a most lavish expenditure of what is still more valuable than money. Then she was prevented, as far as possible, from doing any thing for herself.

This last point, however, was difficult of accomplishment. Little Caroline herself was an extremely smart, active, capable child; and such a one, who feels the energy stirring within her, cannot well be prevented, in such a very unartificial state of things as exists in a village family, from exerting it.

It is not often that a child derives benefit from her mother’s absurdities; but Caroline Rutherford was an exception. The very opposition she met with confirmed all her natural tendencies to rationality; and, in consequence of her being excluded from the schools, her father took great pains with her education, while her mother paid a degree of attention to her manners; which, though it could not render her formal, (no training could have produced that result in her case,) had the 29effect to make her considerate and attentive. She grew up, therefore, a very pleasing, lovely girl.

When she was about the age of fourteen, a very exciting event occurred in their quiet village. A gentleman of fortune, who had determined to remove into the country, attracted by its healthy and picturesque location, selected it for his future residence, and purchased a place very near the dwelling of Mr. Rutherford.

This circumstance was rejoiced in by no one so much as by Mrs. Rutherford; and would have gone far toward compensating her for the want of silver forks, except that it made her feel the need of them so much the more; because, “how could she invite Mr. and Mrs. Garrison to dine without them?”

She lost no time in calling upon her new neighbors, choosing for that purpose the latest hour compatible with the country dining hour. She had previously arrayed herself in the manner she deemed most befitting the occasion; that is, most calculated to recommend her to Mrs. Garrison as a person of undoubted gentility, viz: with a dress of Gros de Berlin, a French cape, silk stockings, etc., etc.

30To her surprise, she found Mrs. Garrison in a simple gingham morning dress, superintending the nailing down of a carpet; for her house was not yet in order. She received Mrs. Rutherford, however, in a very easy manner, conducting her to an adjoining apartment; and thus, after the usual preliminaries, was the turn given by the latter to the conversation.

“I quite pity you, Mrs. Garrison, for having chosen a residence in the country.”

“Pity me, indeed! I thought all people who lived in the country were fond of it. Is it not so with you?”

“O yes! I am very fond of flowers, and I think the country more healthy than town; but then we have such trouble with our servants. Such a thing as a man-cook is quite out of the question. I often tell my husband that there would be some sense, and some pleasure in having one’s friends to dine with you, if one could have a man-cook.”

“A man-cook, indeed!” replied Mrs. Garrison. “I did not know that such an appendage was ever thought of in the country. It is far from being common in town; and for myself, I have never 31employed one. If I can get good women I shall be entirely satisfied.”

“Well, ma’am, you cannot be sure even of that; and then, if your servants happen to leave you, it is so difficult to supply their places. Really, Mrs. Garrison, to be left as we are exposed to be occasionally, almost without any help at all, is a calamity almost too great to be borne. Housework is so odious, so disagreeable, I almost loathe myself when I am obliged to take hold of it.”

This last expression led Mrs. Garrison to suspect that she had been quite accustomed “to take hold” notwithstanding.

“But your country ladies, in spite of these difficulties, have more leisure than we in town. You are not obliged to keep one servant to answer the bell, and to spend the best part of the day yourself in receiving visits from a set of idlers, as formidable, to those who really value their time, as the unproductive consumer to the political economist.”

Here Mrs. Rutherford found herself at fault. She looked quite puzzled for a moment, and then replied—“But you do not give refreshments to your morning visitors, Mrs. Garrison? That, I am told, is quite out of fashion.”