Nobody “sits below the salt.” And every one has an equal chance of obtaining a share of the nicest articles on the table. What is most desirable is to have a seat in the vicinity of agreeable people, and you will more frequently find them about the middle, or lower end of the table, than at the top—that being the place usually most coveted by the least genteel of the guests. We have seen the Chief Magistrate of the Union, “the ruler of millions,” simply take a seat near the door, at the lower end of a hotel-table, in Philadelphia, having arrived unexpectedly.
As we have said before, we perceive not the propriety or the convenience of a large party of strangers, on entering in a body, pertinaciously making their way to the upper end of the table, with a determination to obtain seats all in a row; as if the whole row together could join in the same conversation, or even see each other, when they sit on the same side.
In seating yourself, look down for a moment to see if you have placed the foot of your chair on the dress of the lady sitting next to you; and if you have done so, remove it immediately, that her dress may be in no danger of tearing when she attempts to rise. Sit close to the table, but never lean your elbows upon it. To sit far from it, and reach out distantly, is very awkward. Having unfolded your napkin, secure it to your belt with a pin, to prevent its slipping down from your lap, and falling under the table. This may be done so that the pinning will not be perceptible. Bring with you a spare pin or two for this purpose,—or keep always a pincushion in your pocket. It is much better than to incur the risk of getting your dress greased or stained by the napkin deserting your lap. If such accidents should happen, pass them over slightly, and do not lose your temper. For the present, wipe the spot with your napkin, and dip the corner in water, and rub it lightly over the grease-mark. When dinner is over, you can finish repairing the injury in your own room. The coloured waiters are generally very clever at removing grease-spots from dresses. One of them will do it for you after dinner. The stain of wine or fruit may in most cases be taken out of a washable article by laying it immediately in cold water.
To eat in gloves or mittens was always foolish; fortunately it is no longer fashionable; but greatly the contrary.
Refrain from loud talking, or loud laughing. Young ladies truly genteel are never conspicuously noisy at a public table, or anywhere else. Still more carefully refrain from whispering, or exchanging significant glances. Whispers are always overheard, (even when the vulgar precaution is taken of screening your mouth with your hand,) and glances are always observed.[[12]] Joggings, nudgings, pinchings, sleeve-pullings, &c. are excessively unlady-like, and shamefully impudent when (as is often the case) the eye of the jogger is fixed upon the object of the jog. To put up an eye-glass at the face of a stranger, is very rude. So it is to make remarks in French.
When eating fish, first remove the bones carefully, and lay them on the edge of your plate. Then with your fork in your right hand, (the concave or hollow side held uppermost,) and a small piece of bread in your left, take up the flakes of fish. Servants, and all other persons, should be taught that the butter-sauce should not be poured over the fish, but put on one side of the plate, that the eater may use it profusely or sparingly, according to taste, and be enabled to mix it conveniently with the sauce from the fish-castors. Pouring butter-sauce over any thing is now ungenteel.
Do not attempt removing a cover from a dish, that you may help yourself before the rest of the company. Leave all that to the waiters. Tell them what you want in a distinct, but not in a loud, conspicuous voice. In asking a servant to bring you a thing, add not the useless and senseless words “will you?” for instance, “Bring me the bread, will you?”—“Give me some water, will you?” Of course he will. Has he the option of refusing? How you would be startled were he to answer, “I will not.” It is well always to say, even to servants, “I will thank you for the bread,—or the water.” If you are a stranger in the house, ask, at the beginning, the servant who waits on you to tell you his name. This may save you some inconvenience. Where servants are numerous, they should always go by their surnames, and be called Wilson, Jackson, Thomson, or whatever it may be. This will prevent the confusion arising from half a dozen Johns, or as many Williams.
If the waiters are attentive, and in sufficient number, you will have, at a good hotel, little or no occasion to help yourself to any thing. Do not, under any circumstances, reach across the table, or rise on your feet to get at any particular dish you may want. Trouble no one of the company; but wait till you see a servant at hand. No man who is a gentleman ever puts the ladies in requisition to help him at table.
It is not customary at hotels for ladies to be assiduous in watching and supplying the plates of gentlemen. They can take care of themselves.
If in turning to speak to a waiter, you find him in the act of serving some one else, say, “When you are at leisure, I will thank you for some water,”—or whatever you may want.