“Fifty Courtesies of the Table.” That is the title of a curious old manuscript of the thirteenth century to be found among the numberless rolls of yellowed and shriveled parchments which constitute the great wealth of the Ambrosian library at Milan. It is written in verse by Friar Bonvesin, who appears to have been an arbiter of good manners to the public of six centuries ago and who has not been essentially improved upon by the numerous writers on etiquette of more recent years.
Fra Bonvesin seems not only to have possessed pretty good sense regarding the cardinal points of refined table manners, but also to have had an appreciation of the more delicate touches of good breeding and gentility worthy of my Lord Chesterfield himself.
It can do no harm to repeat some of the worthy monk’s admonitions, for they are not only of interest as throwing light on the civilization and customs of the time, but the greater number of them might be pasted in every man’s hat with advantage to the wearer, provided he would look at them occasionally for almost every one has at least read or been told what good manners are. The practice of them is what is lacking.
After impressing on his readers the necessity of cleanliness in personal appearance at table he continues: “Do not be in too great a hurry to take your seat at table before being invited. If you should find your place occupied, do not make any disturbance about the matter, but politely yield.”
The Tübingen School, the Renans and the Ingersolls had not as yet unsettled the popular mind on certain important questions, and the necessity of saying grace was of more consequence in Friar Bonvesin’s day than it might be considered now. One is particularly warned not to neglect saying grace. “It is, to the extreme, gluttonous and vile and showing great contempt of the Lord to think of eating before having asked his blessing.” This over, one is admonished “to sit decently at the table, not with the legs crossed nor with elbows on the board.”
“Do not” - mark this, you representative from the rural districts, you business man with but a few moments to spare for your lunch, you well gorged patrons of high priced restaurants, mark this “do not fill your mouth too full. The glutton who fills his mouth will not be able to reply when spoken to.” And elsewhere the careful brother utters an especial warning against the breach of good manners in eating noisily.
Evidently the worthy frater thought little of the table talk of that day, for his next recommendation savors strongly of the homely but expressive mandate of our grandparents, “Let your victuals stop your mouth.” Friar Bonvesin’s version is, “When eating, speak little, because in talking one's food is apt to drop or be spluttered.” “When thirsty, swallow your food before drinking.” Excellent hygiene as well as good manners.
In that early time dinner services were not as complete as in later periods. Each guest was supposed to bring with him his own knife and spoon, and there was but one drinking cup for the whole company. The following admonitions as to the use of this cup are of interest: “Do not dirty the cup in drinking. Take it with both hands firmly, so as not to spill the wine. If not wishing to drink and your neighbor has dirtied the cup, wipe it before passing it on.”
The fourteenth courtesy is admirable, and not only admirable, but applicable to many diners out of the present and to all those amiable people whose conviviality is in excess of their discretion: “Beware of taking too much wine, even if it be good, for he offends trebly who does so against his body and his soul, while the wine he consumes is wasted.” Prudent old Friar Bonvesin!
“If any one arrives during the meal” one is told “not to rise, but continue eating.” The sixteenth courtesy is one particularly significant for the present, as in it those who take soup are counseled not to “swallow their spoons” and are further advised to “correct themselves of this bad habit as soon as possible. If you should sneeze or cough, cover your mouth, and above all turn away from the table.”
The next courtesy has the true Chesterfieldian stamp: Good manners demand that one should partake, however little, of whatever is offered - if, that is, one is in good health. “Do not,” urges Friar Bonvesin, “criticize the food or say, ‘This is badly cooked or too salted.’ Attend to your own plate and not to that of others. Do not mix together on your plate all sorts of viands, meat and eggs. It may disgust your neighbor. Do not eat coarsely or vulgarly, and if you have to share your bread with anyone cut it neatly if you do not wish to be ill bred. Do not soak your bread in your wine, for,” says the friar, “if any one should dine with me and thus fish up his victuals I should not like it.”
“If with ladies, carve first for them - to them the men should do honor. Always remember if a friend be dining with one to help him to the choicest parts. Do not” -and how very thoughtful and sensible this advice- “do not, however, press your friend too warmly to eat or drink, but receive him well and give him good cheer. When dining with any great man, cease eating while he is drinking, and do not drink at the same time as he. When sitting next a bishop, do not drink till he drinks nor rise till he rises.” – San Jose Herald, 1895
🍽️Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia
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