Martine's Hand-book of Etiquette, and Guide to True Politeness Part 7

If you ask the waiter for anything, you will be careful to speak to him gently in the tone of _request_, and not of _command_. To speak to a waiter in a driving manner will create, among well-bred people, the suspicion that you were sometime a servant yourself, and are putting on _airs_ at the thought of your promotion. Lord Chesterfield says: "If I tell a footman to bring me a gla.s.s of wine, in a rough, insulting manner, I should expect that, in obeying me, he would contrive to spill some of it upon me, and I am sure I should deserve it."

Should your servants break anything while you are at table, never turn round, or inquire into the particulars, however annoyed you may feel.

If your servants betray stupidity or awkwardness in waiting on your guests, avoid reprimanding them _publicly_, as it only draws attention to their errors, and adds to their embarra.s.sment.

Never commit the vulgarism of speaking when you have any food in your mouth.

When you have occasion to change or pa.s.s your plate during dinner, be careful and 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 put b.u.t.ter on your bread at dinner, and avoid biting or cutting your bread from the slice, or roll; rather break off small pieces, and put these in your mouth with your fingers.

It is considered vulgar to dip a piece of bread into the preserves or gravy upon your plate and then bite it. If you desire to eat them together, it is much better to break the bread in small pieces, and convey these to your mouth with your fork.

Avoid putting bones, or the seeds of fruit, upon your table-cloth.

Rather place them upon the edge of your plate.

When you wish to help yourself to b.u.t.ter, salt, or sugar, use the b.u.t.ter-knife, salt-spoon and sugar-tongs; to use your own knife, spoon or fingers evinces great ignorance and ill-breeding.

It is customary in some American families to serve their guests with coffee in the parlor after dinner. But this is a European custom which is not generally practiced in polite American society. When coffee is given at the close of the dinner, it is more usual to serve it before the guests leave the table. The practice of handing it round in the parlor or drawing-room, is an unnecessary inconvenience to the guests particularly, without any compensating advantages.

Finger-gla.s.ses are generally handed round as soon as the viands are removed, but they are intended merely to wet the fingers and around the mouth. When the finger-gla.s.ses are pa.s.sed, wet your fingers in them and then wipe them upon your napkin. The habit of rinsing the mouth at table is a disgusting piece of indelicacy, which is never practiced by any well-bred person.

Upon leaving the table, lay your napkin beside your plate, but do not fold it.

Do not leave the table until the lady of the house gives the signal, and when you leave offer your arm to the lady whom you escorted to the table.

It is generally the custom in this country for ladies to retain their seats at table till the end of the feast, but if they withdraw, the gentlemen all rise when they leave the table, and remain standing until they have left the room.

Politeness demands that you remain at least an hour in the parlor, after dinner; and, if you can dispose of an entire evening, it would be well to devote it to the person who has entertained you. It is excessively rude to leave the house as soon as dinner is over.

WINE AT TABLE.

Almost every gentleman has wine at his table whenever he has invited guests. Indeed, wine is considered an indispensable part of a good dinner, to which ladies and gentlemen have been formally invited. Even if you are a total-abstinence man yourself, you will not, if you are really a gentleman, attempt to compel all your guests to be so against their wish. If you are so fanatical that you have what is called "conscientious scruples" against furnis.h.i.+ng wine, then you should invite none to dine who are not as fanatical and bigoted as yourself. You must consider that a gentleman may have "conscientious scruples" against dining with you on cold water, for there are even temperate and sober gentleman who would go without meat as soon as be deprived of their gla.s.s of wine at dinner. The vegetarian, who would force his guests to dine on cabbages and onions, is hardly guilty of a greater breach of etiquette than the total-abstinence fanatic who would compel his guests to go without wine.

If there is a gentleman at the table who is known to be a total-abstinence man, you will not urge him to drink. He will suffer his gla.s.s to be filled at the first pa.s.sage of the wine, and raising it to his lips, will bow his respects with the rest of the guests, and after that his gla.s.s will be allowed to remain untouched. As little notice as possible should be taken of his total-abstinence peculiarity. And, if he is a gentleman, he will carefully avoid drawing attention to it himself.

It is not now the custom to ask a lady across the table to take wine with you. It is expected that every lady will be properly helped to wine by the gentleman who takes her to the table, or who sits next to her.

But if you are in company where the old custom prevails, it would be better breeding to follow the custom of the place, rather than by an omission of what your entertainer considers civility, to prove him, in face of his guests, to be either ignorant or vulgar. If either a lady or gentleman is invited to take wine at table, they must _never refuse_; if they do not _drink_, they need only touch the wine to their lips. Do not offer to help a lady to wine until you see she has finished her soup or fish.

Always wipe your mouth before drinking, as nothing is more ill-bred than to grease your gla.s.s with your lips.

Do not propose to take wine with your host; it is his privilege to invite you.

It is considered well bred to take the same wine as that selected by the person with whom you drink. When, however, the wine chosen by him is unpalatable to you, it is allowable to take that which you prefer, at the same time apologizingly saying, "Will you permit me to drink _claret_?" or whatever wine you have selected.

In inviting a lady to take wine with you at table, you should politely say, "Shall I have the pleasure of a gla.s.s of wine with you?" You will then either hand her the bottle you have selected, or send it by the waiter, and afterwards fill your own gla.s.s, when you will politely and silently bow to each other, as you raise the wine to your lips. The same ceremony is to be observed when inviting a gentleman.

On raising the first gla.s.s of wine to his lips, it is customary for a gentleman to bow to the lady of the house.

It is not customary to propose _toasts_ or to drink deep at a gentleman's family table. Lord Byron describes "a largish party," as "first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then drunk." But this was "a largish party," which, it is to be hoped, was given at a tavern; for the man who drinks to intoxication, or to any considerable degree of _elevation_, at a gentleman's family table, ought never to expect to be invited a second time.

At dinner-parties which are given to gentlemen, for the purpose of conviviality, one may indulge in as much wine as he pleases, provided he does not get _drunk_, and make a nuisance of himself. Where drinking, and toasting, and b.u.mpers, are the order of the feast, as at a public dinner, given in honor of a distinguished man, or at the inauguration of some public enterprise, far greater lat.i.tude is allowed, in all things, than on more private and select occasions.

In conclusion of our article on table etiquette, we quote from a recent English work, some humorous, but valuable 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 b.u.t.tered, 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 p.r.o.ngs, 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 versa_. 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 gla.s.ses 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 sc.r.a.pe 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 a.s.sure 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 pate. 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 the 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 n.o.b, or _trinquer_ in the French fas.h.i.+on 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 gla.s.s of old port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never drink a whole gla.s.sful 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 gla.s.s 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 pa.s.s it on, gently, not with a push like that. Do not drink so fast; you will hurry me in pa.s.sing the decanters, if I see that your gla.s.s 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."

CARVING.

Carving is an art which every parent should teach his sons and daughters. Nothing can be more disagreeable and unpleasant than to be placed before any particular dish without being able to help it properly. It is generally the case when the head of the family is a good carver; for he so objects to see things badly cut, that he prefers carving everything himself. We remember once, when very young, being invited to a large dinner, and we were placed before a ham. We began to hack this article, when the general, the founder of the feast, said to his servant, "Take that ham away from that young gentleman, and place it before some one who knows how to carve." From that moment we determined to achieve the art of carving, and after great difficulty we succeeded, and succeeded so well that once, in carving a hare, a clergyman, one of the guests, remarked what an excellent invention that of boning a hare was, we carved it with so much ease; but determined to have a joke at the expense of the clergyman, we laid down the knife and fork, and said, "Sir, we are surprised that you could express such an opinion, when it is well known that it has filled more jails and sent more men to the treadmill than any other thing you can name." "What, sir, taking the bones out of a hare?" "No, sir, 'boning' the hare first." No one can carve without practice, and consequently children ought to begin young, in order to acquire a thorough knowledge of the art. It is difficult to describe the method of carving, even with drawings or diagrams; but the reader who wishes to learn, may, by observing how good carvers proceed, and applying what he has seen to what he reads, with practice, soon become an adept.

And first, never stand up to carve; this is the greatest vulgarity, and even a very short man need not stand up. A little, deformed, hump-back friend of ours, used to give very good dinners; he carved well, and delighted in showing it, but he had a failing--always to have very large joints of meat before him. One day a stranger guest arrived late, dinner had been served, even soup and fish had been removed; the host was absolutely hidden behind an enormous round of beef, and the stranger saw nothing at the head of the table but the monstrous joint, round which a knife was revolving with wonderful rapidity. Steam was the subject of talk at the moment, and he exclaimed, "I did not know that you had brought steam to this perfection." "What perfection?" "Why, don't you see that round of beef is carved by steam." This was enough; it got the hunchback's steam up, and, jumping on the chair, he demanded who dare insult him in his own house; and it was with great difficulty that his friends could appease his wrath, and turn his steam off. Ever since the time of Adam, men and women have been p.r.o.ne to excuse themselves and lay the blame on others. Thus, a person who could not swim, complained bitterly of the want of buoyancy in the water; and another, who had frightfully mangled a leg of mutton in attempting to carve, declared that the sheep was deformed and had a bandy leg.

In France, at all large dinners, dishes are carved at the sideboard by a servant, and then handed round in small portions. It saves a great deal of trouble, and prevents the shower of gravy with which awkward carvers will often inundate the table-cloth, and sometimes their neighbors. It would be well if this custom was universal in America, where it is rare to find a good carver. In helping the soup, never say, "Will you let me a.s.sist you to some of this soup?" this is vulgar in the extreme. The word a.s.sist is not "selon les regles de la bonne societe," but simply, "Shall I send you some?" Now, any one can help soup. But then there are two ways, the right and the wrong. First, then, your soup plates should be held by the servant near the tureen, and you should judge the number you have to help by the quant.i.ty of soup you have, to avoid the possibility of consuming all your soup before you have helped your guests; give one spoonful of soup to each plate, and avoid by all means slopping the soup either into the tureen or over the table-cloth, or over the side of the plate, all of which are extreme vulgarities. And here we beg to say--notwithstanding Brummel having said, in speaking of some one with whom he could find no other fault, that he was a sort of fellow who would come twice to soup,--that, if very good, it is not vulgar to eat twice of it; but, _au contraire_, if not good, the worst possible taste.

The next thing in order is fish. Now, of fish there are several sorts; the first of the large sorts being

SALMON, the shape of which every one knows; but few people have a whole salmon at table. The fish should be served always on a strainer, covered with a small dinner napkin, and the cook should be careful that it be sent to table whole and unbroken. It should be laid on its side, and garnished with fried smelts; it should be cut with the trowel, or fish-knife, immediately down the middle of the side, and helped from the centre to the back, one slice back and a small slice towards the belly, which is the richest and fattest part; care should be taken that the slices are not broken, and with each slice a fried smelt be given.