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| “I should say when those fork-and-knife stands, which, as a rule, ought to be used, are on the table, it is certainly improper for the individual to leave his knife and fork upon the plate when passed. If these stands are not used, then etiquette demands that the knife and fork be placed on one side of the plate, so as not to soil the table linen.” — Superb British made, Victorian Silver Plated Dining Table Knife Rest or Cutlery Stand, by W. Howe & Co, circa 1860 — Photo source, Etiquipedia private library |
THE KNIFE AND FORK QUESTION
Of course, nobody nowadays would think of cleaning his knife in the primitive manner, though at a hotel or restaurant it might be perfectly legitimate to give a dingy spoon, knife, or fork a little friction on the napkin, and, in fact, there are certain Italian restaurants in this City where it has passed as a custom with the clientèle to aid the waiters in this way. Needless to say that anything of this character akin to furbishing the steel or silverware at a private house would be one of the rudest of things to do. We are not conscious of having ever remarked want of care in the cleaning of knives or forks at a private dinner, but still when the minor equipage of a house is scanty, and when fish is served, and the same small wares have to do second duty, and the cook or waiter is not careful, and a flavor of fish awakens the suspicion of the guest, the effect is disagreeable.
Now, if the mistress of the house only knew that a grain of carbonate of soda in the water in which pastry plates or knives, forks, or spoons to be washed, would carry were away all the ichthyous odors, then some very unpleasant ideas occurring to the minds of the guests might be obviated. We slowly approach, then, that absorbing topic, how the knife and fork are to be used, or what is to be done with them when the plate is passed to be replenished.
We think the question divides itself into two distinct phases. If there is a servant, the knife and fork may be left on the plate. It is then the duty of the attendant who carries the plate to the place of replenishment to take care of the knife and fork, putting them on one side of the plate, so as to be out of the way of the new supply of food. But this leaving of the knife and fork is quite optional. To cross, however, the knife with the fork, is to give extra trouble. If, however, there is no one in attendance, it is wisest to retain the knife and fork.
Volunteer assistants at a table, those other guests who pass along the plate, may not be accustomed to this duty, and accidents detrimental to their neighbors’ dresses or coats, by the fall of the knife and fork, may occur. There are several positions which the person who retains his own knife and fork can assume. He might hold the knife in one hand and the fork in the other, and apply the butts of each of them on the table, grounding arms, in fact, and thus assume a most awkward and stupid position. It is a perfectly easy thing to hold the knife and fork in the right hand on the table, or even to place them there, though if they be dripping from the food, which rarely occurs, the table cloth would be soiled. If there be stands on the table, of course, the knife and fork can be stacked on them; but such stands are rarely in use to-day, save for the carver.
The bother about this matter is slight after all, because in a well-regulated service plates, knives, and forks are changed at every course, and besides it is exceptional when guests ask for a second helping of the same dish. It might as well be said here of the marked improvement generally as to the use of the knife, it is not now as universally sheathed in a man’s or a woman’s mouth, as if they were sword swallowers. Thirty years ago, in France, the use of the knife at dinner was almost tabooed. The custom was to divide the food with the fork, rather an awkward custom, as forks have generally no cutting edge, and to aid the act of conveying food to the mouth on the fork, by means of a bit of bread. Long habit makes people amazingly clever about this kind of thing, and to see a well-cultured Charleston or Savannah woman loading her fork with grains of rice, without spilling a kernel, is the acme of intelligent manipulation.
The older one grows and the better he becomes acquainted with the world and its habits, the less fastidious one be comes in regard to the little conventionalities of life. The pretty Japanese girl, with the clean hands, who takes the boiled rice with extended fingers out of the well-scrubbed pail, and puts it in your lacquer saucer, does it so well and gracefully that you do not call for a spoon. Muchfeedi Pasha, who has sedulously washed his rather coarse fingers before he tears off for me the thigh of the pitlaued chicken, acts according to the rules of étiquette in his own country, and it is an ill-mannered man who finds fault with it.
Certainly, the Turk would have a right to feel horrified if, at the conclusion of a European repast, he should see the convives gurgling their mouths in a most foul and disgusting way. Baron von Kalbfleisch, attached to the Prussian Legation, does hold his knife in a most distressing way, and the position of his cutting-instrument is so awkward that he rarely does succeed even in dismembering a sweet bread. But, then, this gentleman, though he has been in France, (with the army at Gravelotte he played a distinguished part,) has never acquired the manners of that country. Still, Miss Bwoun showed her bad breeding and ignorance to us (when he dined last with her at her father’s table) in having commented on his German ways. Different men, different manners.
Now, Miss Bwoun did try, in a very silly way, some years ago. to foster that absurd fashion of eating with her gloves on. If she had not been laughed out of it she would have worn her Marquise ring outside of her glove. To eat with gloves on is female snobbery. Young women who go out to parties may be lavish of gloves, and may be indifferent to smearing them with lobster salad, or to have the first finger and thumb darkened where the spoon touches them. But nothing is prettier than the freshness of a woman’s hand, and the best fitting glove is, after all, but an awkward thing. Gloved hands that feed, to keep up the whole dignity of the thing, should find mouths which were hidden behind veils.— The New York Times, July 18, 1880
Now, Miss Bwoun did try, in a very silly way, some years ago. to foster that absurd fashion of eating with her gloves on. If she had not been laughed out of it she would have worn her Marquise ring outside of her glove. To eat with gloves on is female snobbery. Young women who go out to parties may be lavish of gloves, and may be indifferent to smearing them with lobster salad, or to have the first finger and thumb darkened where the spoon touches them. But nothing is prettier than the freshness of a woman’s hand, and the best fitting glove is, after all, but an awkward thing. Gloved hands that feed, to keep up the whole dignity of the thing, should find mouths which were hidden behind veils.— The New York Times, July 18, 1880
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