MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOLSON
THE day will come I suppose when people in this country will lose their titles and be monotonised into Mr.. Mrs. and Miss. I shall be sorry about this, since I dislike uniformity and find these variations of nomenclature intricate, amusing and decorative. To foreigners the complications of our orders of nobility are as perplexing as conic sections : never will they grasp the simple fact that if Sir Simon de Montfort marries Lady Elspeth Boleyn she becomes, not Lady de Montfort but Lady Elspeth de Montfort: or that, when eventually Sir Simon is raised to the peerage and in his sturdy way adopts the title of Lord de Montfort, his wife ceases to be Lady Elspeth and becomes, as they had always taken her to be, Lady de Montfort. People of my generation learnt these tricks of the trade automatically, even as they learnt to handle knife and fork : but I notice that the younger generation are apt to dismiss these once important shibboleths as "Edwardian fuss" and neither know nor care what families their friends belong to or how they should be rightly addressed. The pain caused to their parents when they observe an envelope lying upon the hall table addressed to "Lady Montfort" instead of to "The Lady Elspeth de Montfort" causes them much merriment; they deride such punctiliousness as nothing more than snobbishness. Certainly a large component of our ancient care and accuracy was a snobbish component; but there is also the fact that, if one employs these archaic patterns at all, one may as well employ them according to the rules, even as it is preferable to spell correctly and to write the English language with some regard at least for syntax. Yet I agree that in a progressive world it is desirable that the con- ventions of one generation should become the absurdities of the next, and that once the T.U.C. come to represent the ruling class it is immaterial whether one be a viscount or not. * * * • The disappearance of all titles and formal modes of address will, I trust, bring with it the abolition of that meaningless and inconvenient suffix "Esquire." The correct use of esq. necessitates precise knowledge of the Christian name or initials of the man who is being addressed. In the distant days when I used to write my envelopes in my own hand- writing, it was feasible, when unaware whether a man was "E. de Montfort Esq." or "S. de Montfort Esq.," to scribble some illegible paraphora that could serve for either. Now that all sensible or busy people use the typewriter, such polite evasions, have become impossible : many hours of research are wasted in verifying initials in order to avoid giving offence. Which is foolishness. But were I to do the reasonable thing and type my envelope "Mr. de Montfort," the latter, in spite of his congenital democracy, would feel hurt. The French simplify the whole business by writing " Monsieur " or merely " M." : but then they complicate their correspondence by using all manner of exquisite endings, such as "high consideration" or "distinguished sentiments," each one bearing some subtle gradation of affection or esteem; and invariably they sign their letters with a cryptogram or colophon such as no human brain or eye can decipher. Now that we have achieved the Welfare State, it would be excellent if we were to discard this " Esquire " business and to print our own names at the top of our notepaper, even as the Edwardians would, with neat hieroglyphs, indicate their railway stations and their tele- graphic or postal offices. Such devices save confusion and time. * * * * It all arises, I presume, from the idea that it is rude not to take this sort of trouble when one writes to one's friends, and that to display overt ignorance of such details is to indi- cate that you are not a man of the world. The usages of a polite society were designed, it seems, to create a number of inconvenient obligations, the observance of which indicated that trouble had been taken, the neglect of which indicated that you were uninitiated. Many of these ancient obligations have, since the two wars, faded into a past as remote as that of duelling or Cremorne. No longer are we expected to waste hours of our lives leaving cards or paying calls : were we suddenly to do so, we should be regarded as provincial or even foreign; were a young man today to deposit gardenias or gladioli at the houses of his hostesses, he would be thought affected, extravagant and slightly American. In truth, although we are still a long way from. the Mr., Mrs. and Miss stage - of society, we have done much to simplify these exacting ordinances. Turning over my books this week, I came across a neat little volume, bound in calf and bearing on its spine a pretty little gilt pattern and the words "The Secretary's Assistant." It was published in the year 1821 by Messrs. Gilbert and Rivington of St. John's Square, London. It convinces me that in the first year of the reign of King George 1V the task of addressing envelopes to people was even more intricate and wearisome than it was in Edwardian days. "There are," the preface explains, "perhaps but few persons who, when about to correspond, for the first time, with those of a rank with the title of whom they are not perfectly acquainted, do not experience some degree of embarrassment." In those days, it seems, one had to be specially alert when addressing envelopes to someone of a rank superior to one's own. If you were a peer you began your letters to other peers with "My dear Lord " : but if you were not a peer you began, or were told by the "Secretary's Assistant" to begin, "My Lord." Such an appeal would today seem humiliating and obnoxious.
There is another exhausting English practice which seems to have survived our silent revolution. It is still customary to add to the end of a person's name such decorations as he or she may possess. It is bothersome enough to have to identify the initials of an esq. : it is even more of a nuisance to ascer- tain whether a man is a K.C.M.G., or a K.C.B., or a G.B.E. But, according to the "Secretary's Assistant," things were even worse in the days when Lord Liverpool was Prime Minister and Lord Londonderry Secretary of State. In those days, if the Assistant be correct, you were expected to add, not English distinctions only, but also those foreign decorations that a man of eminence had been accorded. Curious exotic initials Were, if you desired to fulfil your obligations, to be added after the customary " K.G."—such as " K.H.", " K.M.T.". " K.G.F.", " K.G.V. ', or even " K.S.L." These mysterious captials signified respectively, "Knight of the Guelphic Order," "Knight of St. Maria Theresa," "Knight of the Golden Fleece," "Knight of Gustavus Vasa," and "Knight of the Sun and Lion of Persia." It is conceivable that, if in those days I had been addressing a letter to the Duke of Wellington, I might have added after his many initials the three magnificent letters " K.G.F." But I am quite certain that if I had been writing to Lord Londonderry I should not have added " K.S.L.", even had he been entitled to such a decoration, but should merely have scribbled "etc., etc." I am left with the impression that the " Secretary's Assistant" went a little too far.
The tables of precedence attached to this tiresome little volume also provide food for thought. The wives of Knights of the Garter went into dinner after the wives of Baronets but before the wives of Bannerets. The daughters of Bannerets went into dinner in front of the wives of the eldest sons of Knights of the Bath, whereas the wives of the Esquires of the King's Body had precedence, not merely over the wives of citizens and burgesses, but also over the wives of Gentlemen entitled to bear arms. The heads of foreign missions and their wives presented a further atrocious difficulty. Had I scribbled a note to Prince Talleyrand at 51 Portland Place, I should have had to address him as "Ambassador from His Most Christian Majesty." I do not believe that, even in those days. educated people really indulged in such arabesques. But one never knows.
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