Faerie Etiquette... at your peril

faeries & friend doing chores

As a manners maven, I'm often asked about etiquette in difficult situations. I always answer blithely and with complete confidence, secure in the correctness of my assertions. That is, until I was queried about etiquette in the fae realm.  The bold facts are, I dare not venture on this topic, as the mere thought of doing so is fraught with folly. Some faeries expect gifts, others are insulted by them -- the fickleness and capriciousness of those involved makes me shudder to the point that discretion takes hold and I fall silent.  And so we will look to cooler, wiser heads to tackle this tricky question.  

"Certain things may be taken for granted, however. As creatures of a somewhat... shall we say "less material"... nature than you mortals, our opinions on personal property are both looser than your own, and more strict. If you simply keep in mind that what is mine is mine... *and* what is yours is also mine... you shouldn't face any difficulty in that regard. We're oft accused most unfairly of taking unattended children, for instance. Our answer to this is that if you'd really wanted the babe, you wouldn't have left it all alone crying in the cradle... But... As an honorable people, we do believe in fair trade. Thus we leave one of our own in its place. If you feel that a trade is unfair, compromise can be reached, but do try to be polite about it." ~Maurellan dana'Sidhe, Knight of the Queen of Bright Winter

The invaluable Monstrous.com, provides this sage advice:

Fairy etiquette is a strict and exacting art. Different types of fairies observe many different standards of manners, and the ignorant or uninformed risk many dangers when dealing incorrectly with the fairy folk. Brownies and their ilk (the bwca in Wales, the bodach in Scotland, the Manx fynnoderee, sometimes the pixies of Devon and Cornwall, and the hobs and lobs around the British isles) often perform services for families and farmers.

Domestic brownies will clean and scrub floors and dust shelves, while farm brownies will harvest and thresh corn and other crops. Generally they ask little except that their privacy be observed and that a bowl of milk be left out for them every night. The brownies consider this a fair trade, and will become offended if anything else is offered to them. Many be the farmer who, upon seeing the naked brownie working for him, thought to offer it a new suit of clothes. In every case, the brownie immediately left its service.

My personal advice: keep fairy cakes on hand at all times!

Sometimes the brownie would put on his new suit and think himself to fine and dandy for work; othertimes they felt the clothes were an insult to their previous station. There is also the tale of a miserly Lincolnshire farmer whose brownie grew accustomed to being left a new linen shirt every new year, but then finally the farmer grew tired of the expense and left a coarse sack out. The brownie sang a quick song before it ran away:

Harden, harden, harden hemp!
I will neither grind nor stamp.
Had you given me linen gear,
I had served you many a year,,,,
Thrift may go, bad luck may stay,
I shall travel far away!

from Brigg's Encyclopedia of Fairies

Offending a domestic brownie can have far worse repercussions. Many times the brownie will stick around in the cozy house, but will make itself a nuissance intead of an asset. It will curdle milk, drag furniture across the floor at night, bang pots and plates together, and occasionally even assault the residents. It is almost impossible to rid a home of an ill-tempered brownie, and it is very difficult to win again the favor of an offended brownie.

People who saw the fairies were advised not to look closely, because they resented infringements on their privacy.  The need to not offend them could lead to problems: one farmer found that fairies threshed his corn, but the threshing continued after all his corn was gone, and he concluded that they were stealing from his neighbors, leaving him the choice between offending them, dangerous in itself, and profiting by the theft.

And for the wee ones:

Etiquette in the 1920's was no Picnic

Correct Behavior on a Picnic

by Donald Ogden Stewart

A tasty bit of hilarity excerpted from the 1920s etiquette book, Perfect Behavior, A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen 

in All Social Crises

[reblogged from Victoriana.com] 

 
   There often comes a time in the life of the members of "society" when they grow a little weary of the ceaseless round of teas, balls and dinners, and for such I would not hesitate to recommend a "picnic."

     A day spent in the "open," with the blue sky over one's head, is indeed a splendid tonic for jaded nerves. But one should not make the mistake of thinking that because he (or she) is "roughing it" for a day, he (or she) can therefore leave behind his (or her) "manners," for such is not the case. There is a distinct etiquette for picnics, and anyone who disregards this fact is apt to find to his (or her) sorrow that the "shoe" in this case is decidedly "on the other foot."

     A young man, for example, is often asked by a young lady to accompany her on a "family picnic." To this invitation he should, after some consideration, reply either "Yes" or "No," and if the former, he should present himself at the young lady's house promptly on the day set for the affair (usually Sunday).

     A "family picnic" generally consists of a Buick, a father, a mother, a daughter, a small son, beef loaf, lettuce sandwiches, a young man (you), two blow-outs, one spare tire, and Aunt Florence.

     The father drives with his small boy beside him; in the rear are the mother, the daughter, Aunt Florence, the thermos bottles, the lunch baskets and you. As you take your seat you must remember that it is a distinct evidence of bad breeding to show in any way that you are conscious of the fact that the car has been standing for the last hour and forty-four minutes in the hot July sun.

     "We're off!" cries father, pressing his foot on the self-starting pedal. Thirty minutes later you roll away from the curb and the picnic has begun. The intervening time has, of course, been profitably spent by you in walking to the nearest garage for two new sparkplugs.

     It should be your duty, as guest, to see that the conversation in the rear seat is not allowed to lag. "It's a great day," you remark, as the car speeds along. "I think it's going to rain," replies Aunt Florence. "Not too fast, Will!" says mother. "Mother!" says the daughter.

     Ten minutes later you should again remark, "My, what a wonderful day!" "Those clouds are gathering in the west," says Aunt Florence, "I think we had better put the top up." "I think this is the wrong road," says mother.

     "Dear, I know what I'm doing," replies father.

     The secret of good conversation lies in discovering the "hobby" of the person with whom one is conversing, and a good talker always throws out several "feelers" in order to find out the things in which his partner is most interested. You should, therefore, next say to mother, "Don't you think this is a glorious day for a picnic?" to which she will reply, "Well, I'm sure this is the wrong road. Hadn't you better ask?" The husband will answer nothing, but Aunt Florence will murmur, "I think I felt a drop of rain, Will. If you don't put the top up now, we'll all be drenched."

     The husband will then stop the car, and you and he will proceed to put up the top. In doing this, it is customary for the guest to get the second and third fingers of his right hand so severely pinched that he can not use the hand for several days. As soon as the top is up and the rain curtains are in place the sun will come out and you can at once get out and put the top down, taking care this time to ruin two fingers of the LEFT hand.

     No good conversationalist confines himself exclusively to one subject, and when you are once more "under way" you should remark to the mother, "I think that motoring is great fun, don't you, Mrs. Caldwell?" Her answer will be, "I wish you wouldn't drive so fast!" You should then smile and say to Aunt Florence, "Don't YOU think that motoring is great fun, Mrs. Lockwood?" As she is about to reply, the left rear tire will blow out with a loud noise and the car will come to a bumping stop.

     The etiquette of changing a tire is fairly simple. As soon as the "puncture" occurs one should at once remark, "Is there anything I can do?" This request should be repeated from time to time, always taking care, however, that no one takes it at all seriously. The real duty of a young man who is a "guest" on a motor trip on which a "blow-out" occurs is, of course, to keep the ladies of the party amused during the delay. This can be accomplished by any of the conventional methods, such as card tricks, handsprings, and other feats of athletic agility, or making funny jokes about the host who is at work on the tire.

     When the damage has been repaired and the car is once more speeding along, leaving behind it mile after mile of dusty road as well as father's best "jack" and set of tire tools, the small boy will suddenly remark, "I'm hungry." His father will then reply, "We'll be at a fine place to eat in ten minutes."

     Thirty minutes later mother will remark, "Will, that looks like a good place for a picnic over there." The father will reply, "No--we're coming to a wonderful place--just trust me, Mary!" Twenty minutes later Aunt Florence will say, "Will, I think that grove over there would be fine for our lunch," to which the husband will reply, "We're almost at the place I know about--it's ideal for a picnic." Forty minutes after this, father will stop the car and point to a clump of trees. "There," he will say, "what do you think of that?" "Oh, we can't eat THERE!" will be the answer of mother, daughter and Aunt Florence. "Drive on a bit further—I think I know a place."

     Three hours and thirty minutes later (i.e. four hours past your normal lunch hour) there will be another puncture and as the car stops beside a wheat field it will begin to rain, and the daughter will sigh, "Well, we might as well eat here." The "picnic" will then be held in the car, and nothing really quite carries one back to nature and primeval man as does warm lemonade and a lettuce sandwich in a Buick with the top up and side curtains on.

     After lunch it will be time to return home, and after you and father have ruined your clothes in
repairing the punctures, the merry party will proceed on its way. The next morning, if you have not caught pneumonia, you will be able to go to your work greatly refreshed by your day's outing in the lap of old Mother Nature.

Gentlemanliness Never Goes Out of Style

The Gentlemen's Code 

"The True Gentleman is the man whose conduct proceeds from good will and an acute sense of propriety, and whose self-control is equal to all emergencies; who does not make the poor man conscious of his poverty, the obscure man of his obscurity, or any man of his inferiority or deformity; who is himself humbled if necessity compels him to humble another; who does not flatter wealth, cringe before power, or boast of his own possessions or achievements; who speaks with frankness but always with sincerity and sympathy; whose deed follows his word; who thinks of the rights and feelings of others, rather than his own; and who appears well in any company, a man with whom honor is sacred and virtue safe." —John Walter Wayland (Virginia 1899)