A Gentleman

by Maurice Francis Egan

On this point Mrs. Sherwood, an acknowledged authority on social matters, says: “First of all things, decline nothing. If you do not like certain kinds of food, it is a courtesy to your hostess to appear as if you did. You can take as little on your plate as you choose, and you can appear as if eating it, for there is always your bread to taste and your fork or spoon to trifle with, and thus conceal your unwillingness to partake of a disliked course.” Fish is eaten with a fork in one hand and a piece of bread in the other. There was once a man who filled his mouth with fish and dropped the bones from his lips to his plate. He disappeared—and nobody asks where he has gone. If a bone does happen to get into the mouth, it can be quietly removed. The guest who puts his fingers ostentatiously into his mouth to take out the fish-bones he has greedily placed there might, under temptation, actually and savagely tilt over his soup plate to scoop up the last drop of the liquid.

The next course, after the fish, is the entrée; it may be almost anything. No well-bred man ever asks for a second helping of the sweetbreads, or chops, or whatever dish may form the entrée. It is eaten with the fork in the right hand and a piece of bread in the left. In England it is considered ill-bred to pass the fork from the left hand to the right; but we have not as yet become so expert in the use of the left hand, so we use our forks with the right. A guest who asks for a second portion of the entrée may find himself in the position of a certain Congressman who had never troubled himself about etiquette. He was invited to a state dinner at the White House. The courses were delayed by this genial legislator, who would be helped twice. When the roasts came on he turned to a lady, and in his amiable way said, with a fascinating smile, “No, I can’t eat more; I’m full—up to here,” he added, making a pleasant motion across his throat. It was probably the same Congressman who, seeing a slice of lemon floating in his finger-bowl, drank its contents, and swore that it was the weakest lemonade he had ever tasted.

The roast comes after the entrée. Each course is eaten slowly, because the host wants to keep his guests in pleasant conversation at his table as long as possible. If the host helps our young guest to a slice of the roast, whatever flesh-meat or fowl it may be, the guest must not pass it to anybody else: he must keep it himself; it was intended for him. This rule does not apply to the soup and the fish and the entrées as it does to the roast. Suppose a guest wants his beef rare, or underdone, and I pass him the piece given to me by the host, because he knows I like it well-done: the consequence is that the guest next to me gets what he does not like and I get what I do not like. Another thing: Begin to eat as soon as you are helped. Do not wait for anybody; if you do, your food may become cold.

The seat of honor for the men is always on the hostess’ right hand; for the ladies, on the right hand of the host. The lady in the seat of honor is always helped first. She begins to eat at once. There is nobody to wait for then. The rule is that one should begin to eat as soon as one is served. This rule may be followed everywhere, and the practice of it prevents much embarrassment.

After the roast there will probably be an entremets of some kind. It may be an omelette, it may be only a salad, or it may be some elaborately made dish. In any case, your fork and a bit of bread will help you out. When in doubt, a young man should always use his fork—never his knife, as it is used only to cut with, and to help one’s self to cheese. Vegetables are always taken with the fork; lettuce too, and asparagus, except when there is no liquid sauce covering it entirely. Lettuce, when without sauce, asparagus when not entirely covered with sauce, are eaten with the fingers. Water-cress is always eaten with the fingers, and so are artichokes. A dinner ought not to last over two hours; but it may. If our guest yawns or looks at his watch he is ruined socially. He might almost as well thrust his knife into his mouth as do either of them. When he gets more accustomed to the world, he will discern that people object to a view of his throat suddenly opened to them.

But to return to our dinner-party: If the finger-bowls are brought on, the general custom is to remove them from the little plate on which they stand. The little napkins underneath them are not used: these are merely put there to save the plate from being scratched by the finger-bowls. As usage differs somewhat here, the young guest had better watch his hostess and imitate her.

An ice called a Roman punch is served after the roast; it is always eaten with a spoon. If a fork is served with the ice-cream at the end of the dinner, the amiable young man had better not begin to giggle and ask “What’s this for?” If he never saw ice-cream eaten with a fork before, it is not necessary to show it. It is very often so eaten, and if he finds a fork near his ice-cream plate, let him use it just as if it was no novelty. To show surprise in society is bad taste; it is good taste to praise the flowers, the china, the soup. One ought to say that he enjoyed himself, but never to say that he is thankful for a good dinner. It is understood that civilized people dine together for the pleasure of one another’s society, not merely to eat.

When the little cups of black coffee are served, our young guest may take a lump of sugar with his fingers, if there are no tongs. Similarly in regard to olives, he may take them with his fingers and eat them with his fingers. One’s fingers should be dipped in the finger-bowls,—there is a story told of a young man who at his first dinner-party put his napkin into his finger-bowl and mopped his face. The host, who ought to have been more polite, asked him if he wanted a bathtub. The boy said no, and asked for a sponge.

If our young guest be wise he will pay all possible attention to the hostess; the host really does not count until the cigars come around. Then let the young person beware in being too ready to smoke. He may possibly not be offered cigars at all, but if he is, and he smokes in any lady’s presence without asking her permission, the seal of vulgarity is impressed on him.

A guest to whom black coffee is served in a little cup ought not to ask for cream. It might cause some inconvenience; it is not the custom. When a plate is changed or sent up to our host, the knife and fork should be laid parallel with each other and obliquely across the plate. At small dinners, where the host insists on helping you twice, one may keep his knife and fork until his plate is returned to him.