Manners and Social Usages by Mrs John M. E. W. Sherwood (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📕

little three-inch things are very ornamental; but the real and

serviceable doyley should not be forgotten, and may be laid either

beside or over the top of the finger-bowl.

Many ladies are so extravagant that they have a second napkin of

small size put on for that part of the dessert which precedes the

fruit, but this involves so much trouble to both the guest and the

waiter that it is not ordinarily done.

The napkins made at Berlin, with drawn thread and knotted fringe and

lace effects, are very handsome. They are also made at the South

Kensington schools, and in Paris, and by the Decorative Art Society

in New York, and are beautifully wrought with monogram and crest in

red, white, and blue thread. But no napkin is ever more thoroughly

elegant than the very thick, fine, and substantial plain damask,

which becomes more pure and smooth every time that it is cleansed.

However, as one of our great dinner-givers in New York has ordered

twenty-four dozen of the handsome, drawn-thread napkins from one

establishment at Berlin, we must conclude that they will become the

fashion.

When breakfast is made a formal meal—that is, when company is

invited to come at a stated hour-_-serviettes_, or large dinner-napkins, must be placed at each plate, as for a dinner. But they are

never used at a “stand-up” breakfast, nor are doyleys or finger-bowls.

If any accident happens, such as the spilling of a glass of wine or

the upsetting of a plate, the d�bris should be carefully cleared

away, and the waiter should spread a clean napkin over the

desecrated tablecloth. Large, white napkins are invariably used at

luncheon, and the smaller ones kept for breakfast and tea. Some

ladies like the little, fringed napkins for tea, but to look well

these must be very carefully washed and ironed.

Never fasten your napkin around your neck; lay it across your knees,

convenient to the hand, and lift one corner only to wipe the mouth.

Men who wear a mustache are permitted to “saw” the mouth with the

napkin, as if it were a bearing-rein, but for ladies this would look

too masculine.

Napkins at hotels are now folded, in a half-wet condition, into all

sorts of shapes: a goose, a swan, a ship, a high boot, are all

favorite and fanciful designs; but this is a dirty fashion,

requiring the manipulation of hands which are not always fresh, and

as the napkin must be damp at the folding, it is not always dry when

shaken out. Nothing is so unhealthy as a damp napkin; it causes

agony to a delicate and nervous lady, a man with the rose-cold, a

person with neuralgia or rheumatism, and is offensive to every one.

Never allow a napkin to be placed on the table until it has been

well aired. There is often a conspiracy between the waiter and the

laundress in great houses, both wishing to shirk work, the result of

which is that the napkins, not prepared at the proper time, are put

on the table damp.

A housekeeper should have a large chest to contain napery which is

not to be used every day. This reserved linen should be washed and

aired once a year at least, to keep it from moulding and becoming

yellow.

Our Dutch ancestors were very fond of enriching a chest of this

kind, and many housewives in New York and Albany are to-day using

linen brought from Holland three hundred years ago.

The napery made in Ireland has, however, in our day taken the place

of that manufactured in other countries. It is good, cheap, and

sometimes very handsome, and if it can be bought unadulterated with

cotton it will last many years.

Very little starch should be put in napkins. No one wishes to wipe a

delicate lip on a board, and a stiff napkin is very like that

commodity.

At dinner-parties in England, in the days of William the Fourth, a

napkin was handed with each plate. As the guest took his plate and

new napkin, he allowed the one which he had used to fall to the

floor, and when he went away from the table he left a snowy pile of

napery behind him.

The use of linen for the table is one of the oldest of fashions, The

early Italian tables were served with such beautiful lace-worked

napkins that we cannot equal them to-day. Queen Elizabeth’s napkins

were edged with lace made in Flanders, and were an important item of

expense in her day-book.

Fringed, embroidered, and colored napkins made of silk are used by

Chinese and Japanese magnates. These articles may be washed, and are

restored to their original purity by detergent agents that are

unknown to us. The Chinese also use little napkins of paper, which

are very convenient for luncheon baskets and picnics.

One of our correspondents asks us if she should fold her napkin

before leaving the table. At a fashionable meal, no. At a social tea

or breakfast, yes, if her hostess does so. There is no absolute law

on this subject.

At a fashionable dinner no one folds his napkin. He lets it drop to

the floor, or lays it by the side of his plate unfolded. When the

fruit napkin is brought he takes it from the glass plate on which it

is laid, and either places it at his right hand or across his knee,

and the “illuminated rag,” as some wit called the little embroidered

doyley, which is not meant for use, is, after having been examined

and admired, laid on the table, beside the finger-bowl. These pretty

little trifles can serve several times the purpose of ornamenting

the finger-bowl.

Napkins, when laid away in a chest or drawer, should have some

pleasant, cleanly herb like lavender or sweet-grass, or the old-fashioned clover, or bags of Oriental orris-root, put between them,

that they may come to the table smelling of these delicious scents.

Nothing is more certain to destroy the appetite of a nervous

dyspeptic than a napkin that smells of greasy soap. There is a

laundry soap now in use which leaves a very unpleasant odor in the

linen, and napkins often smell so strongly of it as to take away the

desire for food.

Perhaps the influence of Delmonico upon the public has been in

nothing more strongly shown than in the effect produced by his

always immaculate napery. It was not common in American eating-houses, when he began, to offer clean tablecloths and clean

napkins. Now no decent diner will submit to any other than a clean

napkin. Every lady, therefore, who aspires to elegant housekeeping,

should remember that she must never allow the same napkin to be put

on her table twice. Once used, it must be sent to the laundry before

it is put on the table again.

CHAPTER XLV. SERVANTS, THEIR DRESS AND DUTIES.

As we read that a West Point hotel-keeper has recently dismissed all

his waiters who would not shave off their mustaches, we must begin

to believe that the heretofore heedless American is considering the

appearance of his house and carriage-servants. In the early days of

the republic, before Thomas Jefferson tied his horse’s rein to the

palings of the fence and sauntered into the Capitol to be

inaugurated, the aristocrats of the various cities had a livery for

their servants. But after such a dash of cold water in the face of

established usage by the Chief Magistrate of the Country, many of

the old forms and customs of Colonial times fell into disuse, and

among others the wearing of a livery by serving-men. A constantly

declining grade of shabbiness was the result of this, as the driver

of the horses wore a coat and hat of the same style as his master,

only less clean and new. Like many of our American ideas so good in

theory, the outcome of this attempt at “Liberty, Equality, and

Fraternity,” was neither conducive to neatness nor elegance.

But so strongly was the prejudice against liveries instilled into

the public mind that only seven years ago a gentleman of the most

aristocratic circle of aristocratic Philadelphia declared that he

refrained from having a liveried servant behind his carriage from

fear of shocking public opinion. In New York the presence of a

large, foreign, social element long ago brought about a revulsion of

opinion in this matter, and now most persons who desire a neat,

plain, and appropriate style of dress for their coachmen and footmen

put them in a livery, for which the master pays. Those who are

particular in such matters do not allow a waiter or a footman to

wear a mustache, and require all men-servants to be clean-shaven,

except the coachman, who is permitted to wear whiskers. Each must

have his hair cut short, and the waiter must wear white gloves while

waiting at table or when handing refreshments; even a glass of water

on a silver salver must be brought with a gloved hand.

Many ladies have much trouble in impressing upon their men-servants

the necessity for personal neatness. The ordinary attire of a butler

is a black dress-coat, with white cravat and white cotton gloves. A

waiter who attends the door in a large establishment, and who is one

of many servants, is usually in a quiet livery—a frock-coat with

brass buttons, and a striped waistcoat. Some families affect the

scarlet waistcoat for their footman, which, indeed, may be used with

very good effect for the negro servant.

Neatness is indispensable; a slovenly and inattentive servant

betrays a slovenly household. Yet servants often do their employers

great injustice. They are slow to respond to the bell, they give

uncivil answers, they deny one person and admit another, they fail

to deliver notes, they are insolent, they neglect the orders of the

mistress when she is out. We cannot expect perfection in our

domestic service, but it is possible, by painstaking and patient

teaching, to create a respectable and helpful serving class.

Servants are very apt to take their tone from their employers—to be

civil if they are civil, and insolent if they are insolent. The head

of the house is very apt to be copied by his flunkies. One primal

law we must mention—a hostess should never reprove her servants in

the presence of her guests; it is cruel both to guest and servant,

and always shows the hostess in an unamiable light. Whatever may go

wrong, the lady of the house should remain calm; if she is

anguished, who can be happy?

We have not here, nominally, that helpful treasure known in England

as the parlor-maid. We call her a waitress, and expect her to do all

the work of one floor. Such a person can be trained by a good

housekeeper to be a most admirable servant. She must be told to rise

early, to attend to the sweeping of the door-steps, to open the

blinds, to light the fires, and to lay the breakfast-table. She must

appear in a neat calico dress, white apron and cap, and wait upon

the family at breakfast. After breakfast, the gentlemen will expect

her to brush their hats, to bring overcoats and overshoes, and to

find the umbrellas. She must answer the door-bell as well, so should

be nimble-footed and quick-witted. When breakfast is over, she must

remove the dishes and wash them, clean the silver, and prepare for

the next meal. In well-regulated households there is a day for

sweeping, a day for silver cleaning, a clay for mirror-polishing,

and another for making bright and neat the fireplaces; but each one

of these duties requires a certain share of attention every day. The

parlor must be dusted, and the fires attended