Four glasses are the indispensable escort of
every knife and fork; the largest for vin
ordinaire, another for choice wines, another for
champagne, a fourth for the fine wines taken at
dessert and with entremets. In the grandest
mansions, fresh knives and forks are given with
every change of plates; in second-class houses,
knives and forks are changed at each course,
and after fish; in many, the same knife and fork
serves throughout the dinner, and are replaced
by a knife only at dessert.

Before dinner, the mistress of the house
should see that all arrangements are properly
made. At dinner, she ought to charm
everybody by her grace, attention, and friendliness.
After dinner, a well-bred woman will not betray
in the presence of her guests any marked
uneasiness respecting what is left in the dishes.
It is ridiculous for a host to show anxiety to
save elaborate confectionery which may adorn
the table. It is for the guest to plead for the
sparing of those edifices, which are generally
contrived to please the eye rather than the
palate.

Bread, when once handed to you, may not be
again cut, but only broken. The black-bottle
question is speedly settled. Wine may not be
decanted. The dirtier, the dustier, the mouldier,
the more cobwebby, a bottle is when placed on
the table, the better. It is the down of the peach,
the bloom of the plum, the dew of the rosebud.
You would no more remove it in any way, than
you would brush off from the tip of a fresh-cut
cucumber, the faded flower which is such a sore
temptation to most beholders. I shall never
forget the flashing glance of surprise directed at
me by a distinguished savant, when I requested
a servant to wipe a very grimey bottle! The
only way of getting over the error, was a bold
confession of insular ignorance. If wine be so
old that its coat has begun to slip, a cradle-like
basket is carried down to the cellar, the bottle
gently removed to it without changing its
horizontal position, brought up, uncorked, and so
consumed without ever being set upright. Inn-
keepers refuse to accord the honours of the cradle
to wine under a certain price. When a bottle
is uncorked, and you are about to help your
neighbour, it is polite to pour into your own
glass the first few drops (which Italians would
squirt out on the floor), before filling your
neighbour's; and then afterwards to fill your
own.

Eating is not so simple an act as the
multitude imagine. Animals feed; man eats; clever
men only, know how to eat. A novice in society,
sitting opposite an old marquis whose manners
bore the stamp of the highest refinement,
exclaimed, "When shall I eat my soup like that
gentleman?" You may know middle-class
English from middle-class French, thus: the
English sip soup from the side of their spoon,
the French from the end of it, holding the
utensil as if they were going to pitch it down
their throat.

After eating an egg, break the shell. Never
wipe a glass or a plate with your napkin, which
would be an implied suspicion of your host's
cleanliness. Fish must not be touched with a
knife. A fork should not be laid on its back.
The master of the house generally takes his
place at the middle of the table; the mistress
sits opposite. On either side of each are placed
the most favoured guests. The right is the
seat of honour. At very grand dinners the
hosts do nothing. Both the dishes and the
wine are served by male domestics, who name
them when they offer them to the guests. At
the conclusion of a dinner, beware of folding
your napkin, as if you were at home. The
finger-glass and mouth-rinsing custom (more to
be honoured in the breach than the observance)
is still unsettled and debatable.

In general, it is obligatory to spend the
evening in the house where you have dined. In
the case of your being compelled to retire
earlier—and, for that, it is strictly necessary to
have unavoidable circumstances to allege as
the reason—you should give notice of it before
the repast, and, on departing, manifest extreme
regret. Except when he is begged to sing,
or when he takes any refreshment, custom
requires a gentleman to hold his hat in his hand
throughout the soirée. This usage was probably
invented to help awkward individuals out of
the difliculty of not knowing what to do with
their pendent arms.

It is only allowable in a case of the greatest
intimacy to recline on a sofa or divan. In every
other case you must maintain a decorous posture
and attitude; that is, without the least
nonchalance or free-and-easiness. A remissness which is
much to be regretted, tolerates in men the
crossing of their legs, even in certain ceremonious
receptions. Young people will do well to abstain
from a posture which is really too dragoon-like,
and which, thank Heaven, ladies are never
allowed to assume.

It is improper, at a soirée, to express your
own opinions too loudly and decidedly. If the
apartment in which you are received has its
tables and chimney-pieces laden with rare and
curious objects, you must abstain, according to
the French code, from touching those objects.
You may scarcely permit yourself to take
down a volume from a book-shelf.

During long winter evenings, it is not always
possible to keep up conversation, and still less
to enliven it with new and interesting topics, in
which case it often degenerates into backbiting.
Whist and other games afford a great resource;
cards are better than calumny. Card-players
should manifest neither great exultation at
winning, nor ill-humour at losing. A person, whose
avarice was notorious, boasted of having lost a
considerable sum at cards without uttering a
word of complaint. "I am not surprised at it,"
replied a wit. "Great sorrows are dumb."

If your partner at whist be a grand personage,
in case of winning you must, in France, take
care not to say "I have won," or "We have
won," but "You have won, monsieur," or
"Monseigneur has won." Card debts are paid
within twenty-four hours.