At a theatre the underbred man is often in evidence, not only in the low-priced seats, but also all over the house. He has been seen—and heard—in private boxes. A well-known music-hall celebrity administered a scathing reproof to one of these, who persisted in talking loudly while she was singing. Stopping short, she looked up at the box in which he sat, and cried: “One fool at a time, please,” after which he was as quiet as a mouse.

It is a piece of bad manners to enter the theatre late, disturbing the audience and annoying the players or singers.

It is equally rude to leave before the entertainment is ended, unless the interval be chosen when nothing is going on. At a concert this is particularly true, for there are devotees of music who hang upon every note and to whom it is a distinct loss to miss a single phrase of the compositions they have come to hear.

Singers, actors, and actresses generally possess the sensitive, sympathetic, artistic temperament, and it is wounding to them to see members of the audience fidgeting, rustling about, chattering, laughing, and otherwise showing inattention when they are doing their best to entertain them. It is, therefore, uncivil to betray inattention.

A little appreciation goes a long way with the members of the professions of music and the drama. An actor told me once that after having made a certain speech two or three times without any sign of amusement from the audience, on the fourth night of the play a single silvery note of musical mirth was heard from the stalls. It was but one note—say E flat on the treble clef—but the audience immediately joined in, perceiving the point of the speech as though it had been illuminated for them by this one little laugh. He declared that ever after that night his formerly unsuccessful “lines” elicited a roar of laughter. Probably this was partly due to the sense of encouragement he felt, inspiring him to due emphasis.

In taking ladies to a place of entertainment a gentleman hands them into their carriage, a cab, or an omnibus, getting in last. Arrived at their destination the gentleman alights first, handing out the ladies, and giving any necessary orders to the coachman, or paying the cabman’s fare. By the way, it is always as well to give instructions to the coachman about where he is to

be found, and at what hour he is to pick up his party, before entering the carriage, as policemen view with much disfavour any prolonged dialogue outside a place of entertainment where vehicles are setting down their occupants in quick succession. Should there be a footman, of course all these difficulties are obviated, as he can carry the instructions to the coachman, and also knows where to find the carriage when the performance is over.

Should a hired brougham be used as a conveyance in going to any place of entertainment, or even a party at a private house, it is an excellent plan to give the coachman a bright-coloured handkerchief, scarlet or orange perhaps, that he may wear it conspicuously displayed, and can in this way be at once recognised.

It is a miserable business on a wet night to hunt for a brougham up and down ill-lighted streets when in evening dress and patent leather boots, and anything that tends to shorten the task is advisable. Nor do ladies enjoy waiting in the draughty vestibule of opera-house, theatre, or concert-room for an indefinite period while a short-sighted cavalier is groping about the streets for their carriage.

If it is a question of a cab, the commissionaire at the door is the best person to get one, which he will do for a small fee.

Here again a word of warning is needed. There are men who, in their special care of the ladies in their charge, forget that it is no part of the duty of a gentleman to ignore the claims of other women who have not the advantage of belonging to their party.

I have seen men who ought to have known better rudely pushing other ladies away from the door of a cab or railway carriage in order that their own womenkind may be well looked after. It is all very well to be attentive and anxious to do one’s best, but it is ill-bred to the last degree to subject to rudeness any ladies who happen to be without a gentleman to look after them.

Retribution followed very swiftly in one instance of the kind. At Sandown station one day the second special train for Waterloo was coming in, and the platform was crowded with gaily-dressed women, tired and hot after the walk across the fields on a tropical July day. A lady and small Eton boy were together, and suddenly, when about to open the door of a carriage at the moment the train came to a standstill, found themselves all but thrown down by a sweeping motion of the arm of a young man who was bent on reserving that particular carriage for his party. Without a word of apology to the lady, he shouted to his sisters and friends to “Come on,” still holding back the two who had wished to get in. They entered the next compartment, and as they did so the lady remarked to her companion, “What an extremely ill-mannered person that is!” Meanwhile the party next door were settling down and congratulating themselves on having secured seats, when one of them turned to their over-zealous friend and remarked, “I saw Lady Blank get into the next carriage with her eldest boy.” “Who?” he asked, with a sudden and remarkable rush of colour on his face. The lady to whom he had behaved so rudely turned out to be one from whom he had that very morning received a long-desired invitation to spend a few days at her country house in the following month. This he owed to the good offices of a friend in the F. O., and, delighted at having made such a step in his social career, he had at once written off accepting the invitation. It is scarcely necessary to add that he never made the visit, but had to wire at the last moment one of those conventional excuses that the “unco guid” call fibs, but which are only the transparent devices adopted by society to lubricate some of the more difficult of its processes.

Between the acts of a play the modern man thinks it his duty to himself to go out and have a drink, perhaps smoke a cigarette.

There was a time when, had any such suggestion been made to a gentleman who had constituted himself the escort of a lady, he would have asked, though perhaps not in Milton’s words—

But now the majority of young men visit the bar or the foyer.

But who shall say what golden opinions are won by those who do not follow the custom, who refrain from acquiring the odour of tobacco, or whiskey, or brandy while they are in the company of ladies in the heated atmosphere of a theatre? A lady sometimes says to the men of her party, “I see that there is a general stampede going on. Don’t mind me if you would like to go out.” If they go she thinks, “Oh, they are just like the rest.” If they stay she says to her own heart, “How delightful it is to find a man who can do without a B.-and-S. or a smoke for two or three hours!” and up he goes many pegs in her estimation.

Apart from the lady he is with and considerations connected with her, there is the inconvenience to which many of the audience are subjected by the passing in and out of so many. However, it is a recognised custom, so much so that a smoking foyer is attached to all the best theatres, and a warning bell is rung in it by the management a few minutes before the rising of the curtain.

Refreshments are frequently carried round by attendants to private boxes, and sometimes in the stalls as well. Should they appear, it is the duty of the gentleman of the party to ask the lady or ladies if they wish for any, and to pay for what is consumed. It is, however, a rare thing for ladies to eat or drink at the play. The gentleman also pays for the programme at the few theatres where a charge is made.

I may mention, by the way, that it is not considered very good form to pay for programmes at theatres where the management makes no charge. Instances have been known where attendants have been discharged for accepting such fees; and even apart from this, it is tantamount to presenting the attendant with sixpence or a shilling if one insists on paying for a programme or two provided free of charge. Many of the attendants are superior to accepting it.