A news item about two Famous Old White Men (OWM) quarreling at a grocery store made Etiquetteer think about the old 19th-century custom of cutting, and how none of us would have had to hear about this incident if one of these OWM had just cut the other.
What happened was this. Larry David, star of Curb Your Enthusiasm, took exception to the legal clientele of an erstwhile friend, equally famous lawyer Alan Dershowitz. Words were exchanged in a very public place, the neighborhood general store. Having a heated disagreement is one thing; having it publicly where others cannot avoid it is quite another — not Perfectly Proper. At least no one was taunted with the now traditional OWM threat to “get off my lawn.”
Cutting was a much cleaner way to express one’s disapproval. At its core it meant not acknowledging the presence or existence of another person in such a way that they couldn’t help but notice. Usually it involved studiously looking somewhere else: above (the cut sublime), at one’s shoes (the cut infernal — bonus points if you were fiddling with your shoelaces), or in another direction (the cut indirect). The Nuclear Option, when unavoidable and only for the worst offenders, is the Cut Direct: “to stare an acquaintance in the face and pretend not to know him*.”
Edith Wharton described the cut in her short story “Autre Temps.” “. . . from the captain’s table, [Mrs. Lidcote] had seen Mrs. Lorin Boulger’s revolving eye-glass** pause and the eye behind it grow as blank as a dropped blind.” There was her negation. And in Wharton’s novella New Year’s Day, part of Old New York, Lizzie Hazeldean feels the cut of Sabina Wesson, who is clearly the Grand Mistress of the Cut:
“. . . Mrs. Wesson, who, two seconds earlier, appeared in all her hard handsomeness to be bearing straight down on Mrs. Hazeldean, with a scant yard of clear parquet between them — Mrs. Wesson, as her animated back and her active red fan now called on all the company to notice, had never been there at all, had never seen Mrs. Hazeldean (“Was she at Mrs. Struthers’s last Sunday? How odd! I must have left before she got there —”), but was busily engaged, on the farther side of the piano, in examining a picture to which her attention appeared to have been called by the persons nearest her.”
“So that’s what it feels like!” Lizzie reflected later. “It was the first time in her life that she had ever been deliberately ‘cut’; and the cut was a deadly injury in old New York.” But like many etiquette rules of the period, there were gender restrictions. Gentlemen could cut each other, but never a lady under any circumstances. Unmarried ladies were not allowed to cut married ladies, but married ladies could cut who they wished. Unmarried ladies could only cut gentlemen as a Last Resort. This often happened when there was no other way to get them to take the hint that she Was Not Interested Period. You’ll find more on the origin and usage of the Cut here.
Cutting was a way to conclude relationships between individuals. In this century we have cancel culture, “the practice or tendency of engaging in mass canceling as a way of expressing disapproval and exerting social pressure.” To say that it’s much discussed is putting it mildly. In fact, Etiquetteer finds it so intimidating it may be necessary to lie down for the rest of the afternoon with a cold compress and Edith Wharton.
Is cutting a sensible custom for this century? Perhaps in some sort of Icy Revenge Fantasy, but really, simply avoiding your enemies is best. Etiquette is much more about being inclusive than exclusive these days. Save your cuts for the Last Resort. In the meantime, cultivate with courtesy the relationships you want to strengthen. What could be more Perfectly Proper than that?
*Etiquetteer cannot remember where he first encountered a declaration applied in only the very rarest cases: “Sir, I do not know you.” But strictly speaking, cuts are marked by silence.
**A sort of lorgnette.