Part 10

The lady sits on the right of her escort at table. The servants usually indicate the seats that the guests are to occupy. Sometimes the host, previously instructed by the hostess, comes to the rescue with, “Your seat is here, I believe, Mr. So-and-so,” who immediately takes his lady to the chair on the right of the two the couple are to occupy. The system of name-cards is observed in some circles, but it is not a good one.

It is distressing, in these days of short sight and small rooms, to see several couples wandering about endeavouring to decipher the names on the small cards.

It is much better for the host to have made himself master of the order in which the guests are to be seated, and as he enters the dining-room first with the lady of highest social importance, he is ready to point out their places to each couple as they enter.

The first thing to be done on sitting down is to unfold the table napkin and place it across the knee. The menu is then consulted, and a mental note made of any favourite dish, so that it may not be refused. But all the time a flow of small talk must be kept up with one’s partner of the hour. Sometimes she turns to talk with the man on her right. Then her escort may converse with the lady on his left, if she is disengaged. But he must always remember that his first duty is to her whom he took down.

There will probably be three or four wineglasses on our young friend’s right. One of these--either a long-stemmed, wide-cupped glass or a small tumbler--is for champagne. The coloured glass is for hock, the slenderest and smallest is for sherry, and the claret-glass occupies in dimensions a midway between those of the champagne and claret-glass.

With regard to the knives and forks, everything is now made very easy for the novice by the way in which the table is laid.

The tablespoon is for soup, which must be eaten from the side of the spoon close to the point. The fish knife and fork are placed outside the others, so as to be ready to the hand, the fish course coming directly after the soup.

The dishes are usually all handed round at dinner-parties, the carving being done at the sideboard or in an immediately adjoining room, but sometimes the host carves the joint and game.

There is occasionally a subtle reason for this preference, not wholly unconnected with a taste for those morsels that especially appeal to the gourmand. The host may desire to secure these for some special, appreciative guest--or for himself! In some families the principal dishes are always placed before the master of the house to be carved. Maidservants can rarely carve well, and butlers have gone considerably out of fashion in the upper middle classes of society of late years.

When offered the usual choice of dishes or wines, the guest must decide at once and indicate his choice without delay. Any hesitation gives him the air of being unable to reject either; of being in the position, with regard to food, occupied by the poet who wrote--

“How happy could I be with either, Were t’other dear charmer away!”

So he must be prompt, and, should the dish be handed round, help himself without delay.

On this very point of helping himself I have seen young men endure excruciating agonies of shyness. Sometimes they take the merest morsel of some excellent dish, though they would like very well to have some more. At other times they help themselves to far too much, because they are so confused that they will not take the necessary time to separate for their own share a moderate quantity. Occasionally they drop the spoon or fork with a clatter into the dish, after which they look intensely miserable for ten minutes or so.

The best way to avoid all this is to preserve absolute self-possession by reflecting that the other guests are all too well occupied to pay any attention to such trifling matters. The self-consciousness of which shyness is the outward and visible sign, makes a young man feel that every one is observing him, especially when he is awkward in handling things. But he may console himself with the conviction that he is of much less importance to them than their own dinner, to say nothing of the ladies who sit beside them.

When asked to choose between claret or hock, he may either mention one or indicate the glass.

“Sherry, sir,” is the first wine handed round. Then comes the choice between claret and hock.

Afterwards “champagne, sir?” usually answered by slightly drawing the champagne-glass forward, or by a nod; sometimes by a shake of the head.

An occasional “Thanks” to the servant is not amiss, but it is unnecessary to keep on expressing gratitude. Some people never dream of saying “Thank you.” Others say it out of pure graciousness of manner and gentleness of mind. So our young man may take his choice.

I have observed that when a neat and pretty parlourmaid waits at table she is more likely to be thanked than a manservant; and this not only by gentlemen, but by ladies as well. I offer no explanation of why this should be so. I merely record the fact as I have noted it.

The perfection of service resolves itself into absolute accuracy of machinery united to the observant watchfulness of long training. One barely discovers that one needs bread when it is presented at one’s elbow.

In the same way, vegetables, wine, aërated waters, or whatever one may be drinking, arrives at exactly the right moment. The mechanism or organisation of such waiting is so good that there is no interruption of conversation. The servants understand that a mere turning away from the dish means rejection. Should any guest find a difficulty in helping himself, they simplify matters for him as much as possible.

As the dishes are not named when they are handed round, it is necessary to study the menu in order to know what they are. Some young people appear to think that it looks “greedy” to pay much attention to the information given on the dainty little bill of fare; but this, of course, is one of youth’s delusions. I have seen a short-sighted young man straining his eyes in the endeavour to read furtively the names of the dishes on his menu. He would have done far better if he had boldly taken it up in his hand to examine it.

However hungry one may be, the duty of keeping up a conversation must not be neglected. The

The viands must never be chosen as a topic, for either praise or blame. If one knows a girl very well, one may ask, “Do you like sweets?” or some such question, but it is safer with strangers to avoid the subject of the food provided.

It is scarcely necessary to remark that drinking too much wine is a very bad phase of ill manners. At one time it was actually fashionable to become intoxicated after dinner, but those days are gone, I am thankful to say. The young man who exceeds in this way is soon made aware of the fact that he has given his hostess dire offence. He is never invited again, or not for a long time.

The wineglass is never drained at a draught in polite society; nor is it considered polite to eat very quickly.

The knife, fork, and spoon are handled as noiselessly as possible. Scraping the edge of the knife against the plate is unpardonable. It produces a grating noise that is excessively unpleasant. In sending a plate away to be replenished, the diner leaves his knife and fork or his spoon, as the case may be, upon it.

In dealing with bread, use neither knife nor fork.