Etiquette and Art of Living in 1876

It is alleged that during this impressive ceremonial, M. St. Beuve spread his napkin over both his knees; he admitted to crush the shells of two boiled eggs which he had eaten; he had asked for a second service of chicken; he touched the bones of the chicken with his fingers; he said “thank you” to one of the servants; he left his knife and fork on the cloth; he peeled a pear latitudially instead of longitudinally, and, worst of all, he sniffed his wine before drinking it. — Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, French writer (1804 - 1869). Date circa 1860’s

— Public Domain Photo

A World of  Table Manners

It was reported of Lord Byron that he said that the most ungraceful act which a woman could perform was the eating of an egg. Commenting on this, a calm Western observer said that Byron had probably never seen an American woman hanging on by the teeth to a blazing hot corn-cob. To many nice people, this will be a shocking story. But the vast majority will see no suggestion of any breach of good manners in the practice of extricating the kernels of corn from their natural place of growth in the fashion so rudely described by the Western observer. However, it is a fair illustration of our idea of table etiquette. 

It was a transatlantic visitor who, following the custom of the country in the manner of eating green corn, was deluded into asking the hotel waiter to, “Put some more beans on that stick,” as he extended to him the exhausted corn cob, to which he had been hanging on. As the refinement of manners is, after all, purely relative. It may be edifying to know what would be thought of our table manners by a very imminent French critic. 

An Arab Sheik, who has more family antiquity at his back than the most ancient of Parisian nobility, would think it is the height of rudeness for an entertainer to omit to proffer to his guest, between thumb and finger, a choice bit stripped from the roasted sheep before them. He would be justly offended if the guest refused the offered token of hospitality. But the eminent French critic who has just fallen foul of M. St. Beuve for his ill-breeding, would be sure to enrage and disgust the high-bred Arabian. Nevertheless, the Frenchman talks as if he were giving laws to a world. 

For example, M. St. Beuve has declared that a man of genius cannot possess bad manners — a statement which is as dangerous as it is dogmatic. Whereupon the editor of a Paris publication, the title of which may be freely translated as “The Almanac of the Art of Living,” convicts St. Beuve of no less than eight offenses at table. These offenses, it should be said, were noted by the Master of Ceremonies of the household of the late-Emperor Napoleon. It adds to their heinousness that they were committed at the Imperial table, where, in his double capacity of Senator and man of letters, the author of “Causeries du Lundi’ was wont to break his fast. 

It is alleged that during this impressive ceremonial, M. St. Beuve spread his napkin over both his knees; he admitted to crush the shells of two boiled eggs which he had eaten; he had asked for a second service of chicken; he touched the bones of the chicken with his fingers; he said “thank you” to one of the servants; he left his knife and fork on the cloth; he peeled a pear latitudially instead of longitudinally, and, worst of all, he sniffed his wine before drinking it. If the hapless Senator had said that he would have “some more wine” instead of “some wine,” or had drank his coffee with a spoon in his cup, the deep damnation of his offenses could not have been more fully established. Let the profligate American who seeks to justify his blazing hot corn-cob read the explanation and rebuke of the editor of the “Almanac de Savior-Vivre” and despair.

This imminent authority declares that it is necessary that the napkin should be nicely adjusted. It is horrible to spread it over the knees or to open it all together. It should be partly unfolded, and posed “negligently upon the knee.” Could this critic behold the capacious breast of an English Milord or American Alderman, whitened by the snowy fall of his napkin, his consternation would be absolute. The other crimes of which M. St. Beuve was convicted are duly specified, so that the anxious reader may see how much he must himself avoid.

To peel a pear circumferentially, if we may use that phrase, is so manifestly bad form, that we take it for granted that even people who seize their corn by the ear will be warned. The editor from whose criticism we have quoted finds it necessary to tell the French people how to behave at table; which ought to be a consolation to the Centennial visitors at New-York hotels, when they do not know whether they should drink or wash the spoons in the water which they find in their finger glasses. 

The French (and therefore the world), are told that to eat sparingly when dining out is a reflection on the quality of the feast. To dine abundantly is to confess that one has a lean larder of his own. The happy medium is commended to the anxious diner-out. If one is afflicted with a large appetite, he may take off its edge at home. If he has no hunger, he may say that he is “indisposed.” These are only a few of the multifarious rules which are laid down for students in the art of living well. How much occasion there is for the dissemination of such knowledge in our own unhappy country, let those who affect the blazing hot corn-cob consider. — The New York Times, 1876

Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia