Gilded Age Code of Table Manners

Dinners are generally served à la Russe—that is, from the sideboard, and the dishes are passed around by the servants on silver trays. Very large plates, such as roasts and fish, are sometimes carried without the trays. On all occasions of ceremony the men servants are gloved.

A Code of Table Manners

Many of the cautions contained in this chapter will seem elementary in their nature. But one expects in a book of this kind to see the old familiar “don'ts,” and their absence would perhaps deter from the usefulness of “The Complete Bachelor.” I would, however, suggest a careful study of that clever brochure, entitled “Don't,” which would refresh the memory on many points not within the scope of this work.

It is really quite surprising to see how few men have perfect table manners. The American is unfortunately too often in a hurry. He bolts his food. He is a victim of the “quick-lunch” system. Again, a bachelor eating a solitary meal at a club or a restaurant is apt from sheer loneliness to try and dispose of it as rapidly as possible. Drill yourself into eating leisurely. Persons of refinement take only small morsels at a time. One can not be too dainty at table.

To attempt to talk while your mouth is full is another vulgarity upon which it is needless to dwell. The French have made us the reproach that we frequently drink while our mouths are in this condition. I fear there is some foundation for this accusation. Wipe your mouth carefully before putting a glass to your lips. Grease stains around the edge of a goblet or wineglass are silent but telltale witnesses of careless habits.

The napkin is an embarrassing article to many men. Its place is on the lap and not tucked into the shirt bosom or festooned around the neck. When one arises from the table, the napkin is thrown carelessly on it, unfolded. The days of napkin rings are over.

Nervous and bashful persons fidget, they do not sit squarely or firmly at table, their chairs are crooked, they play or gesticulate with their knives and forks, or they beat dismal tattoos with them against their plates. These same timid minds find vent for inspiration in the crumbs of the bread, of which they involuntarily make little figures or small round balls.

The economist, another person on the list, plasters his food, taking a bit of potato, a little tomato, and a good-sized square of meat as a foundation, and spreading these tidbits one on the other, prepares of them a delectable poultice which he swallows at a mouthful. I pass over the man who leaves traces of each meal on his shirt or his clothes. Such a being, I have no doubt, would convey food to his mouth with his knife, would blow on his soup, tea, or coffee with the idea of cooling it, or would pour the two latter cheering fluids into a saucer and drink them therefrom.

The caution to keep one’s hands above the cloth and one's elbows out of reach of others, also falls under the head of kindergarten classification. The ridiculous idea prevailing that one must not eat until others are served has passed away with many old-time fallacies. One commences to eat as soon as served. You need not proceed very actively, but you can take up your fork or spoon, as the case may be, and make at least a feint at it.

Toasts have also fallen into “désuétude” at private dinners. Sometimes you will find an old-fashioned host who will, on touching his glass with his lips, bow to his guests, and they may wait for this signal to sip their wine, but the custom is utterly obsolete in large cities and at formal dinners.

When you have finished the course, lay your knife and fork side by side on your plate, the prongs of the fork upward. Do not cross them. No whistlike signals are needed to-day to signify that you have had sufficient to eat.

Dinners are generally served à la Russe—that is, from the sideboard, and the dishes are passed around by the servants on silver trays. Very large plates, such as roasts and fish, are sometimes carried without the trays. On all occasions of ceremony the men servants are gloved.

Carving at table is but little seen except at very informal dinners and in the country, where sometimes the master of the house shows off this old-fashioned accomplishment, especially if he has a dining room in colonial style and wishes to have everything in keeping.

The question of second helpings is therefore not one of moment. The servants pass the viands twice or more around. If a host or hostess serves at table, he or she will ask the guests whether they would like a second helping. It is never demanded. Except when absolutely necessary, the handkerchief should be kept out of sight. It can be used in case there should be some sudden irritation of the skin, but to blow one’s nose at table is disgusting.

The American bachelor takes usually a very light first meal. It consists of tea, coffee, or cocoa, toast, eggs, oatmeal, and fruit. There are yet a few men who go in for the old-fashioned hearty breakfast with beefsteak, buckwheat cakes, and trimmings, but in cities the lighter meal is preferable. All this is, of course, more a matter of environment and hygiene than etiquette. — The Complete Bachelor, by Walter Germain, 1896

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