TABLE ETIQUETTE.
It may seem a very simple thing to eat your meals, yet there is no
occasion upon which the gentleman, and the low-bred, vulgar man are more
strongly contrasted, than when at the table. The rules I shall give for
table etiquette when in company will apply equally well for the home
circle, with the exception of some few points, readily discernible,
which may be omitted at your own table.
A well-bred man, receiving an invitation to dine with a friend should
reply to it immediately, whether he accepts or declines it.
He should be punctual to the hour named in the invitation, five or ten
minutes earlier if convenient, but not one instant later. He must never,
unless he has previously asked permission to do so, take with him any
friend not named in his invitation. His host and hostess have the
privilege of inviting whom they will, and it is an impertinence to force
them to extend their hospitality, as they must do if you introduce a
friend at their own house.
Speak, on entering the parlor of your friend, first to the hostess, then
to the host.
When dinner is announced, the host or hostess will give the signal for
leaving the drawing-room, and you will probably be requested to escort
one of the ladies to the table. Offer to her your left arm, and at the
table wait until she is seated, indeed wait until every lady is seated,
before taking your own place.
In leaving the parlor you will pass out first, and the lady will follow
you, still holding your arm. At the door of the dining-room, the lady
will drop your arm. Pass in, then wait on one side of the entrance till
she passes you, to her place at the table.
If there are no ladies, you may go to the table with any gentleman who
stands near you, or with whom you may be conversing when dinner is
announced. If your companion is older than yourself, extend to him the
same courtesy which you would use towards a lady.
There are a thousand little points to be observed in your conduct at
table which, while they are not absolutely necessary, are yet
distinctive marks of a well-bred man.
If, when at home, you practice habitually the courtesies of the table,
they will sit upon you easily when abroad; but if you neglect them at
home, you will use them awkwardly when in company, and you will find
yourself recognized as a man who has "company manners," only when
abroad.
I have seen men who eat soup, or chewed their food, in so noisy a manner
as to be heard from one end of the table to the other; fill their mouths
so full of food, as to threaten suffocation or choking; use their own
knife for the butter, and salt; put their fingers in the sugar bowl; and
commit other faults quite as monstrous, yet seem perfectly unconscious
that they were doing anything to attract attention.
Try to sit easily and gracefully, but at the same time avoid crowding
those beside you.
Far from eating with avidity of whatever delicacies which may be upon
the table, and which are often served in small quantities, partake of
them but sparingly, and decline them when offered the second time.
Many men at their own table have little peculiar notions, which a guest
does well to respect. Some will feel hurt, even offended, if you decline
a dish which they recommend; while others expect you to eat enormously,
as if they feared you did not appreciate their hospitality unless you
tasted of every dish upon the table. Try to pay respect to such whims at
the table of others, but avoid having any such notions when presiding
over your own board.
Observe a strict sobriety; never drink of more than one kind of wine,
and partake of that sparingly.
The style of serving dinner is different at different houses; if there
are many servants they will bring you your plate filled, and you must
keep it. If you have the care of a lady, see that she has what she
desires, before you give your own order to the waiter; but if there are
but few domestics, and the dishes are upon the table, you may with
perfect propriety help those near you, from any dish within your reach.
If your host or hostess passes you a plate, keep it, especially if you
have chosen the food upon it, for others have also a choice, and by
passing it, you may give your neighbor dishes distasteful to him, and
take yourself those which he would much prefer.
If in the leaves of your salad, or in a plate of fruit you find a worm
or insect, pass your plate to the waiter, without any comment, and he
will bring you another.
Be careful to avoid the extremes of gluttony or over daintiness at
table. To eat enormously is disgusting; but if you eat too sparingly,
your host may think that you despise his fare.
Watch that the lady whom you escorted to the table is well helped. Lift
and change her plate for her, pass her bread, salt, and butter, give her
orders to the waiter, and pay her every attention in your power.
Before taking your place at table, wait until your place is pointed out
to you, unless there are cards bearing the names of the guests upon the
plates; in the latter case, take the place thus marked for you.
Put your napkin upon your lap, covering your knees. It is out of date,
and now looked upon as a vulgar habit to put your napkin up over your
breast.
Sit neither too near nor too far from the table. Never hitch up your
coat-sleeves or wristbands as if you were going to wash your hands. Some
men do this habitually, but it is a sign of very bad breeding.
Never tip your chair, or lounge back in it during dinner.
All gesticulations are out of place, and in bad taste at the table.
Avoid making them.
Converse in a low tone to your neighbor, yet not with any air of secresy
if others are engaged in _tête-à-tête_ conversation; if, however, the
conversation is general, avoid conversing _tête-à-tête_. Do not raise
your voice too much; if you cannot make those at some distance from you
hear you when speaking in a moderate tone, confine your remarks to those
near you.
If you wish for a knife, plate, or anything from the side table, never
address those in attendance as "Waiter!" as you would at a hotel or
_restaurant_, but call one of them by name; if you cannot do this, make
him a sign without speaking.
Unless you are requested to do so, never select any particular part of a
dish; but, if your host asks you what part you prefer, name some part,
as in this case the incivility would consist in making your host choose
as well as carve for you.
Never blow your soup if it is too hot, but wait until it cools. Never
raise your plate to your lips, but eat with your spoon.
Never touch either your knife or your fork until after you have finished
eating your soup. Leave your spoon in your soup plate, that the servant
may remove them both. Never take soup twice.
In changing your plate, or passing it during dinner, remove your knife
and fork, that the plate _alone_ may be taken, but after you have
finished your dinner, cross the knife and fork on the plate, that the
servant may take all away, before bringing you clean ones for dessert.
Do not bite your bread from the roll or slice, nor cut it with your
knife; break off small pieces and put these in your mouth with your
fingers.
At dinner do not put butter on your bread. Never dip a piece of bread
into the gravy or preserves upon your plate and then bite it, but if
you wish to eat them together, break the bread into small pieces, and
carry these to your mouth with your fork.
Use always the salt-spoon, sugar-tongs, and butter knife; to use your
own knife, spoon, or fingers, evinces a shocking want of good-breeding.
Never criticize any dish before you.
If a dish is distasteful to you, decline it, but make no remarks about
it. It is sickening and disgusting to explain at a table how one article
makes you sick, or why some other dish has become distasteful to you. I
have seen a well-dressed tempting dish go from a table untouched,
because one of the company told a most disgusting anecdote about finding
vermin served in a similar dish. No wit in the narration can excuse so
palpably an error of politeness.
Never put bones, or the seeds of fruit upon the tablecloth. Put them
upon the edge of your plate.
Never use your knife for any purpose but to _cut_ your food. It is not
meant to be put in your mouth. Your fork is intended to carry the food
from your plate to your mouth, and no gentleman ever eats with his
knife.
If the meat or fish upon your plate is too rare or too well-done, do not
eat it; give for an excuse that you prefer some other dish before you;
but never tell your host that his cook has made the dish uneatable.
Never speak when you have anything in your mouth. Never pile the food on
your plate as if you were starving, but take a little at a time; the
dishes will not run away.
Never use your own knife and fork to help either yourself or others.
There is always one before the dish at every well-served table, and you
should use that.
It is a good plan to accustom yourself to using your fork with the left
hand, when eating, as you thus avoid the awkwardness of constantly
passing the fork from your left hand to your right, and back again, when
cutting your food and eating it.
Never put fruit or bon-bons in your pocket to carry them from the table.
Do not cut fruit with a steel knife. Use a silver one.
Never eat so fast as to hurry the others at the table, nor so slowly as
to keep them waiting.
If you do not take wine, never keep the bottle standing before you, but
pass it on. If you do take it, pass it on as soon as you have filled
your glass.
If you wish to remove a fish bone or fruit seed from your mouth, cover
your lips with your hand or napkin, that others may not see you remove
it.
If you wish to use your handkerchief, and have not time to leave the
table, turn your head away, and as quickly as possible put the
handkerchief in your pocket again.
Always wipe your mouth before drinking, as nothing is more ill-bred than
to grease your glass with your lips.
If you are invited to drink with a friend, and do not drink wine, bow,
raise your glass of water and drink with him.
Do not propose to take wine with your host; it is his privilege to
invite you.
Do not put your glass upside down on the table to signify that you do
not wish to drink any more; it is sufficient to refuse firmly. Do not be
persuaded to touch another drop of wine after your own prudence warns
you that you have taken enough.
Avoid any air of mystery when speaking to those next you; it is ill-bred
and in excessively bad taste.
If you wish to speak of any one, or to any one at the table, call them
by name, but never point or make a signal when at table.
When taking coffee, never pour it into your saucer, but let it cool in
the cup, and drink from that.
If at a gentleman's party, never ask any one to sing or tell a story;
your host alone has the right thus to call upon his guests.
If invited yourself to sing, and you feel sufficiently sure that you
will give pleasure, comply immediately with the request.
If, however, you refuse, remain firm in your refusal, as to yield after
once refusing is a breach of etiquette.
When the finger-glasses are passed, dip your fingers into them and then
wipe them upon your napkin.
Never leave the table till the mistress of the house gives the signal.
On leaving the table put your napkin on the table, but do not fold it.
Offer your arm to the lady whom you escorted to the table.
It is excessively rude to leave the house as soon as dinner is over.
Respect to your hostess obliges you to stay in the drawing-room at least
an hour.
If the ladies withdraw, leaving the gentlemen, after dinner, rise when
they leave the table, and remain standing until they have left the room.
I give, from a recent English work, some humorously written directions
for table etiquette, and, although they are some of them repetitions of
what I have already given, they will be found to contain many useful
hints:
"We now come to habits at table, which are very important. However
agreeable a man may be in society, if he offends or disgusts by his
table traits, he will soon be scouted from it, and justly so. There are
some broad rules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant to
help you, never help yourself. Never put a knife into your mouth, not
even with cheese, which should be eaten with a fork. Never use a spoon
for anything but liquids. Never touch anything edible with your fingers.
"Forks were, undoubtedly, a later invention than fingers, but, as we are
not cannibals, I am inclined to think they were a good one. There are
some few things which you may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure
will eat even macaroni with his fingers; and as sucking asparagus is
more pleasant than chewing it, you may, as an epicure, take it up _au
naturel_. But both these things are generally eaten with a fork. Bread
is, of course, eaten with the fingers, and it would be absurd to carve
it with your knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be broken
when not buttered, and you should never put a slice of dry bread to your
mouth to bite a piece off. Most fresh fruit, too, is eaten with the
natural prongs, but when you have peeled an orange or apple, you should
cut it with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in breaking it.
Apropos of which, I may hint that no epicure ever yet put a knife to an
apple, and that an orange should be peeled with a spoon. But the art of
peeling an orange so as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is
one that can scarcely be taught in a book.
"However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you whether you are
a well-bred man or not; and here let me premise that what is good
manners for a small dinner is good manners for a large one, and _vice
versâ_. Now, the first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir! pray do
not cram yourself into the table in that way; no, nor sit a yard from
it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and in the way of
conversation! Why, dear me! you are positively putting your elbows on
the table, and now you have got your hands fumbling about with the
spoons and forks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock glasses
over. Can't you take your hands down, sir? Didn't you learn that in the
nursery? Didn't your mamma say to you, 'Never put your hands above the
table except to carve or eat?' Oh! but come, no nonsense, sit up, if you
please. I can't have your fine head of hair forming a side dish on my
table; you must not bury your face in the plate, you came to show it,
and it ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion to throw your
head back like that, you look like an alderman, sir, _after_ dinner.
Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy way. You are here to eat, drink, and
be merry. You can sleep when you get home.
"Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got none, indeed! Very
likely, in _my_ house. You may be sure that I never sit down to a meal
without napkins. I don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and
I don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well, now, we are all
seated, you can unfold it on your knees; no, no; don't tuck it into your
waistcoat like an alderman; and what! what on earth do you mean by
wiping your forehead with it? Do you take it for a towel? Well, never
mind, I am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a
pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your right, and wait
till soup is handed to you. By the way, that waiting is the most
important part of table manners, and, as much as possible, you should
avoid asking for anything or helping yourself from the table. Your soup
you eat with a spoon--I don't know what else you _could_ eat it
with--but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that will do, but I beg
you will not make that odious noise in drinking your soup. It is louder
than a dog lapping water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then
you need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it to get
the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some more; but I must just
remark, that it is not the custom to take two helpings of soup, and it
is liable to keep other people waiting, which, once for all, is a
selfish and intolerable habit. But don't you hear the servant offering
you sherry? I wish you would attend, for my servants have quite enough
to do, and can't wait all the evening while you finish that very mild
story to Miss Goggles. Come, leave that decanter alone. I had the wine
put on the table to fill up; the servants will hand it directly, or, as
we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself; but, pray, do
not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some turbot to keep him
quiet. I declare he cannot make up his mind.) You are keeping my servant
again, sir. Will you, or will you not, do turbot? Don't examine it in
that way; it is quite fresh, I assure you; take or decline it. Ah, you
take it, but that is no reason why you should take up a knife too. Fish,
I repeat must never be touched with a knife. Take a fork in the right
and a small piece of bread in the left hand. Good, but--? Oh! that is
atrocious; of course you must not swallow the bones, but you should
rather do so than spit them out in that way. Put up your napkin like
this, and land the said bone on your plate. Don't rub your head in the
sauce, my good man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters
therein. Oh! how horrid! I declare your mouth was wide open and full of
fish. Small pieces, I beseech you; and once for all, whatever you eat,
keep your mouth _shut_, and never attempt to talk with it full.
"So now you have got a pâté. Surely you are not taking two on your
plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, and one is quite enough. Oh!
dear me, you are incorrigible. What! a knife to cut that light, brittle
pastry? No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon--almost as bad. Take your
fork, sir, your fork; and, now you have eaten, oblige me by wiping your
mouth and moustache with your napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry
hanging to the latter, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can
refuse a dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you to
take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, do not be in that
terrific hurry. You are not going off by the next train. Wait for the
sauce and wait for vegetables; but whether you eat them or not, do not
begin before everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that of a
railway refreshment-room, for you have finished before the person I
helped first. Fast eating is bad for the digestion, my good sir, and not
very good manners either. What! are you trying to eat meat with a fork
alone? Oh! it is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you are quite right. Let
me give you a rule,--Everything that can be cut without a knife, should
be cut with a fork alone. Eat your vegetables, therefore, with a fork.
No, there is no necessity to take a spoon for peas; a fork in the right
hand will do. What! did I really see you put your knife into your mouth?
Then I must give you up. Once for all, and ever, the knife is to cut,
not to help with. Pray, do not munch in that noisy manner; chew your
food well, but softly. _Eat slowly._ Have you not heard that Napoleon
lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast? It is a fact though. His
haste caused indigestion, which made him incapable of attending to the
details of the battle. You see you are the last person eating at table.
Sir, I will not allow you to speak to my servants in that way. If they
are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do it gently, and in
a low tone, and thank a servant just as much as you would his master.
Ten to one he is as good a man; and because he is your inferior in
position, is the very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh! it is
of no use to ask me to take wine; far from pacifying me, it will only
make me more angry, for I tell you the custom is quite gone out, except
in a few country villages, and at a mess-table. Nor need you ask the
lady to do so. However, there is this consolation, if you should ask any
one to take wine with you, he or she _cannot_ refuse, so you have your
own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me to hob and nob, or
_trinquer_ in the French fashion with arms encircled. Ah! you don't
know, perhaps, that when a lady _trinques_ in that way with you, you
have a right to finish off with a kiss. Very likely, indeed! But it is
the custom in familiar circles in France, but then we are not Frenchmen.
_Will_ you attend to your lady, sir? You did not come merely to eat, but
to make yourself agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at Thebes;
talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some pudding. No knife--no, _no_. A
spoon if you like, but better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon;
there is a small one handed you, take that.
"Say 'no.' This is the fourth time wine has been handed to you, and I am
sure you have had enough. Decline this time if you please. Decline that
dish too. Are you going to eat of everything that is handed? I pity you
if you do. No, you must not ask for more cheese, and you must eat it
with your fork. Break the rusk with your fingers. Good. You are drinking
a glass of old port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never
drink a whole glassful of anything at once.
"Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take whichever wine you like, but
remember you must keep to that, and not change about. Before you go up
stairs I will allow you a glass of sherry after your claret, but
otherwise drink of one wine only. You don't mean to say you are helping
yourself to wine before the ladies. At least, offer it to the one next
to you, and then pass it on, gently, not with a push like that. Do not
drink so fast; you will hurry me in passing the decanters, if I see that
your glass is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are gone,
but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And now they are gone, draw
your chair near mine, and I will try and talk more pleasantly to you.
You will come out admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching.
What! you are excited, you are talking loud to the colonel. Nonsense.
Come and talk easily to me or to your nearest neighbor. There, don't
drink any more wine, for I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me
to make a move. You have had enough of those walnuts; you are keeping
me, my dear sir. So now to coffee [one cup] and tea, which I beg you
will not pour into your saucer to cool. Well, the dinner has done you
good, and me too. Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so."
"_Champ, champ; Smack, smack; Smack, smack; Champ, champ;_--It is one
thing to know how to make a pudding, and another to know how to eat it
when made. Unmerciful and monstrous are the noises with which some
persons accompany the eating--no, the devouring of the food for which,
we trust, they are thankful. To sit down with a company of such
masticators is like joining 'a herd of swine feeding.' Soberly, at no
time, probably, are the rules of good breeding less regarded than at
'feeding time,' and at no place is a departure from these rules more
noticeable than at table. Some persons gnaw at a crust as dogs gnaw a
bone, rattle knives and spoons against their teeth as though anxious to
prove which is the harder, and scrape their plates with an energy and
perseverance which would be very commendable if bestowed upon any object
worth the trouble. Others, in defiance of the old nursery rhyme--
'I must not dip, howe'er I wish,
My spoon or finger in the dish;'
are perpetually helping themselves in this very straightforward and
unsophisticated manner. Another, with a mouth full of food contrives to
make his teeth and tongue perform the double duty of chewing and talking
at the same time. Another, quite in military style, in the intervals of
cramming, makes his knife and fork keep guard over the jealously watched
plate, being held upright on either side in the clenched fist, like the
musket of a raw recruit. And another, as often as leisure serves,
fidgets his plate from left to right, and from right to left, or round
and round, until the painful operation of feeding is over.
"There is, we know, such a thing as being 'too nice'--'more nice than
wise.' It is quite possible to be fastidious. But there are also such
inconsiderable matters as decency and good order; and it surely is
better to err on the right than on the wrong side of good breeding."