University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
OF FASHIONABLE TOURNURE, AND THE BEHAVIOUR BECOMING
IN THE YOUNG LADIES AT THE SPRINGS.

1. Young ladies should never flirt very violently, except
with married men, or those engaged to be married,
because nobody will suspect they mean any harm in
these cases, and besides, the pleasure will be enhanced
by making their wives and mistresses tolerably unhappy.
Pleasure, without giving pain to somebody, is not
worth enjoying.

2. Young ladies should take special care of their
bishops. The loss of a bishop is dangerous in other
games besides chess.

3. Young ladies should take every occasion to indulge
to excess in drinking—we mean the waters—because
it is good for their complexions.

4. Young ladies should always sit down, whenever
they are tired of dancing, whether other ladies in the
set have had their turn or not; and they should never
sit down till they are tired, under the vulgar idea of
giving those a chance of dancing who have had none
before. It is the very height of tournure to pay not the

least attention to the feelings of other people—except
indeed they are of the first fashion.

5. If a young lady dont like the people standing opposite
to her in the dance, she ought to quit her place
and seek another, taking care to give the said people
such a look, as will explain her motive.

6. Young ladies should be careful to remember on all
occasions, that according to the most fashionable decisions,
it is the height of good breeding to be ill bred,
and that what used to be called politeness, is considered
by the best society as great a bore as the tunnel under
the Thames.

7. Young ladies should never forget that blushing is
a sign of guilt.

8. Young ladies, and indeed old ladies too, must always
bear in mind, that fine feathers make fine birds;
and that the more feathers they wear, the more they approximate
to high ton. It is of no sort of consequence,
according to the present mode, whether the
dress is proper for the occasion or not. A walking
dress ought to be as fine as one for an assembly, for
the peacock spreads his tail equally on the top of a hen
roost, as on the gate of a palace. The infallible rule
for dressing is, to get as much finery, and as many colours,
as possible, and put them all on at once. It
looks like economy to wear only a few ornaments at a
time, and of all things on the face of the earth, nothing
is so low, vulgar, and bourgeois, as economy. No
lady who utters the word, even in her sleep, can ever
aspire to tournure. We knew an unfortunate damsel,
who ruined herself for ever in good society, by being

overhead to say, she could not afford to buy a Cashmere.
She was unanimously left out of the circle
thenceforth and forevermore.

9. In going into a ball or supper room where there is
a great crowd, young ladies should not wait the motions
of the married ones, but push forward as vigorously as
possible in order to get a good place, and not mind a
little squeezing—it makes them look rosy. Nothing
on the face of the globe is so mortifying, as to be obliged
to take up with an out of the way seat at a supper
table, or the lower end of the room in a cotillion. We
have known ladies go into a decline in consequence.

10. Young ladies should always say they are engaged,
when asked to dance by a person they dont choose
to dance with. It is a pious fraud justified by the
emergency of the case.

11. In walking up and down the public drawing
room, it is always fashionable to keep up a bold front.
For this purpose it is advisable for five or six young
ladies to link arm in arm, and sweep the whole room.
If any body comes in the way, elbow them out without
ceremony, and laugh as loud as possible to show it is
all a joke.

12. Young ladies should be sure to laugh loud, and
talk loud in public, especially when they say an ill natured
thing about somebody within hearing, whom nobody
knows. Such people have no business at the
springs. Epsom salts is good enough for them. If
they must have Congress water, let them go to Lynch
& Clark's, and not bore good society.

13. Young ladies should dress as often, and in as

great a variety as possible. Besides passing away the
time, it sometimes achieves wonders. We have known
an obstinate undecided, undetermined hesitating, vacillating,
prevaricating beau, who had resisted all the
colours of the rainbow, at last brought to the ground,
by a philosophical, analytical, and antithetical disposition
of pink, yellow, green, white, black, blue, fawn,
Maria Louise, bronze, and brass coloured silks and
ribbons, that proved irresistible. As some fish are
only to be caught by particular baits, at certain seasons,
so some men are caught by particular colours. We
ourselves could never resist a flesh coloured gauze,
and silken hose of the same. Young ladies had much
better study the nature of these affinities, instead of
going to hear lectures on political economy, chymistry,
and anatomical dissections. The only part of a man
they have any concern with is the heart. Women are
like bees—because—. We will give a ball and supper
to the fortunate person, who shall solve this conundrum,
Why are women like bees?

14. Next to dress, which is, or ought to be, the first
object of a lady's care, is the management of the person,
for which the following directions will be found
highly useful. The first requisite to be graceful, is a
total departure from nature. What is the use of being
taught, if ladies do not exhibit the effects of teaching,
the whole object of which is to counteract the natural
vulgarity of nature? If nature gave them a grave or
pensive disposition, they must try and counteract it by
perpetual laughing. If she bestowed on them a playful,
animated mind, the whole object of attention should be

to appear sad, sorrowful, sentimental and sleepy. If
she gave them a light, airy, elastic step, all they have
to do is to creep softly along, with downcast look, and
silent, solemn inactivity. If on the contrary, she
vouchsafed them an outline like a dumpling, it is proper
and indispensable to dance, bounce, skip and curvet,
like an India rubber ball. In short, nature must be
counteracted in some way or other, and there is an end
of it. Without a little caprice, a little affectation, and
a great deal of fashionable nonsense, a young lady is
intolerable. Talk of nature, and sincerity, and singleness
of heart! A natural woman is no more fit for use
than a raw calf's head. She must be worked up with
the spices of fashion, or a refined man who has travelled,
will pronounce her entirely destitute of tournure.

15. The first requisite for a young lady, in walking,
riding, sitting, lolling, or dancing, is that she should do
it according to the fashion, whether it is set by an opera
dancer, or a person of high ton, who wishes to disguise
a deformity, and who does as she does, because she
cant do any better. If the said opera dancer, from the
mere force of habit, strides along, and lifts up her feet,
half a yard high, the young ladies must do the same. If
the aforesaid person of rank, walks with a wriggle, a
jerk, a stoop, or a lean on one side, or fiddles along with
the elbows and hips, without the aid of any other exertions;
if she does all this, because from some physical
incapacity she cannot do otherwise, still the young
ladies, by the laws of fashion, must do the same, and
creep, or wriggle, or jerk, or stoop, or walk cramp-sided,
or fiddle along with elbows and hips, as the law

directs. Whatever is fashionable is graceful, beautiful,
proper and genteel, let the grumbling and vulgar mob,
who affect to follow nature, say what they will. In
short, it is now a well established axiom, that the whole
tenour of a fashionable education ought to be to defeat
the vulgar propensities implanted by nature. To direct,
controul, or what is still more ridiculous, to facilitate
the expansion of natural beauties, qualities, or propensities,
is, to use a fashionable phrase just come out at
Almack's, “All in my eye, and Betty Martin.” It is
only the poets who make such a rout about following
nature, and the sincerity of their declarations may be
tested by the antithesis of their precepts, and their example.
Some one of these ranting, rhyming cavillers,
who is ashamed of his name, sometime ago bored the
English world with the following philippic against this
imitative quality, which is the distinguishing characteristic
of people of fashion, who on reading it, will no
doubt smile at the vulgar indignation of this Parvenue.
It is extracted with an alteration or two, to suit present
purposes, from an obscure poem, not long since published
in London, the name of which, if we remember right,
was “May Fair.”

Did ever mortal read such low stuff! It is almost as
vulgar and old fashioned as Juvenal. But this is not
the worst. Hear the villain!

We have given these extracts to show our fashionable
readers—and we despise all others—what human
nature in the form of a poet is capable of, as well as to
laugh at his presumption in finding fault with what constitutes
the charm of fashion—its uniformity. By its
magic influence on dress and demeanour, it reduces

grace and deformity, beauty and ugliness, youth and
age, activity and decrepitude, talent and stupidity, to a
perfect level. All are alike—all look alike, act alike,
talk alike, feel alike, think alike, and constitute as it
were one universal identity. “Can any mortal mixture
of earth's mould” compare with a fashionable lady
of the winter of 1828, except her fashionable cook or
chambermaid? Were not the latter, like Achilles, a
little vulnerable about the heel and ancle, this beautiful
symmetry of the whole sex would be complete. But
perfection is not to be looked for in this world—not
even in the world of fashion.

Next to the arts of dress and behaviour, the most
important thing to be studied, is the system of graduating
the thermometer of attention to the claims of the
beaux. This is a matter of no small difficulty, and requires
great tact, as the reviewers say. The following
general rules will be found useful, but long experience,
or frequent parental admonition, can alone perfect this
indispensable accomplishment.

First. Always proportion your attentions to the
claims of the gentleman who aspire to them. These
claims are of great variety. One man may claim consideration
from the tying of his neckcloth—another
from the cut of his coat—another from his accomplishments,
such as fiddling, dancing, talking English
French, or French English, or writing sleepy verses.
Others come forward with the appendage of a gig and
tandem, or a curricle—others with that of a full purse,
or great expectations—and others preposterously expect

consideration from the qualities of their heads and
hearts. These last deserve no mercy. The following
list is carefully graduated according to the latest discoveries
in the great science of bon ton.

Number one of the class of beaux, entitled to the
first consideration, consists of the thrice blessed who
are accommodated with full purses. These constitute
the first born of Egypt; they are the favourite offspring
of fortune, and carry with them a substitute for wit,
valour, and virtue in their pockets. They are entitled
to the first fruits of every prudent, well educated young
lady. Yet it is not actually incumbent on a young lady
to fall in love with them at first sight. If the fortunate
gentleman is worth fifty thousand, he is only entitled to
a gentle preference, a look and a smile occasionally.
If he is the meritorious possessor of a hundred thousand,
the preference must be demonstrated by double
the number of looks and smiles. Two hundred thousand
merit a downright penchant; three hundred thousand
justifies the lady in being very unhappy; and half
a million secures her pardon if she dies for love. N. B.
If it comes to this extremity, the mother is justified in
charging the half a million with practising upon the
young lady's affections, and insisting on his marrying
her.

Secondly. The next class of pretenders are, the
gentlemen who gain young ladies as the champions at
the Olympic games gained their triumphs, by virtue of
their horses. A single horse goes for little or nothing;
a gig and mounted servant is something, and the owner
somebody; a tandem and servant makes a distingué;

and the fortunate proprietor of a phaeton and four may
fairly enter the list with any man, except the half a million,
or the second cousin of an English lord.

Thirdly. There is a class of beaux, who justly
claim considerable consideration on the score of their
costume. Dress being that which above all things distinguishes
the man from the brute, it follows of course
that the best dressed man is the first man in the creation.
Accordingly, the more accurate modern philosophers
have reversed the definition of man given by
Plato, to wit: “A two legged animal without feathers”—and
substituted one much more applicable to
his present state. They define him as, “An animal
without legs, but with abundance of pantaloons—
stitched, pressed, corsetted—composition—regent's
cloth—maker—Scofield, Phelps, & Howard.” Well
dressed young men are therefore entitled to great consideration,
and if not of the first rank, assuredly claim
to come in immediately after the cavaliers and their
horses, provided always they can show a receipt from
the tailor.

Fourthly. Prize poets, players on the piano, anniversary
orators, and all that sort of thing, belong to the
class of minor distingués, and are entitled to the notice
of a fashionable young lady; for all fashionable
young ladies ought to wear at least one blue stocking.
They will answer, however, only for beaux in public
and en passant, unless they possess the sine qua non of
a husband. Never fall in love with them as you value
a coach, a Cashmere shawl, a soiree, or a three story
house, with folding doors and marble mantel pieces,

If indeed the poet could build four story fire proof
brick stores, or brokers' offices in Wall Street, as
easily as he does castles in the air, or the chymist
transmute lead into gold—or the piano hero erect
walls by the magic of fingers, like Orpheus—or the anniversary
orator coin bank notes as he does words—
then indeed they might be worthy the homage of the
ladies' eyes and hearts;—but as it is, they will do well
enough to swell her train.

Fifthly. But really it is hardly worth while to notice
such a miserable, obscure set of beings, who seem
born for nothing else but to be useful. We mean the
men who claim the attention of young ladies, on the
score of merit, and an amiable disposition; who are
not worth a plum—who drive no horses—derive their
being from no tailors—and who can neither write prize
poetry, turn lead into gold, fiddle sonatos, nor spout anniversaries.
We should like to know what such people
were made for. Fortunately, however, there are
now but few such nonentities; for it is not the fault of
dictionaries, catechisms, and compendiums, if every
man, woman, and child cannot know or do something
to make them distingué. If they can do nothing else,
they can write poetry, that shall be excellent rhyme,
however it may lack reason. Of the few nonentities,
of whom the best that can be said of them is, that they
aspire to be respectable—a word not to be found in the
catalogue of the distingué—still fewer are to be met at
the springs, where neither the air or waters agree with
them. They will much more likely be found attending
to their paltry business, storing their minds with the

lumber of antiquated knowledge, or enjoying the sleepy
sodorifics of a domestic fire side—from which good
Lord deliver us! If by any rare chance, one of these
singular monsters should appear at the springs, and
peradventure make a demonstration towards a young
lady aspiring to tournure, we would advise her to
laugh him to death at once. Such men form a sort of
icy atmosphere about a woman, in which dandies die,
and dandizettes feel irresistibly impelled into the vulgar
ranks of nature and propriety.