Precept and Propriety

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17835, 1 May 1926, Page 17 (Supplement)

Precept and Propriety

BOOKS of etiquette within the last year or so have assumed a place in the list of family handbooks which is rivalled only by the Bible, the almanac and the cook book. Their sales have been record-breaking. From the publisher’s point of view they are now on a par as financial ventures with E. Phillips Oppenheim, Mary Roberts Rinehart and Sinclair Lewis, writes Harriette Ashbrook, in the “ New York Herald-Tribune.”

Etiquette as a line art worthy of being the subject of belles lettres dates from the fifteenth century. It was then that the first book of etiquette made its appearance, laboriously written by hand on vellum.

It is quite true that the Italians, always a more ceremonious people than the rough Anglo-Saxons to the north, had for more than two centuries been setting forth their code of manners in verse and orose. But it is the later century that marks the awakening of Englishmen to the fact that good intentions are made doubly attractive if their outward manifestation has a pleasing finesse. This fact they had from time to time endeavoured to impress upon the minds of their growing children, and there are in existence many bits of old English verse instructing the young idea in the art of making themselves pleasing. But apparentlv the eldert felt themselves above reproach or instruction.

In “ The Boke of Curtasye,” however the unknown author sets forth tht rather radical contention that grown ups as well as the growing-ups might profit by attention to a few of the precepts of propriety. The manuscript is to-day preserved in the British Museum and is said to hai-e been written between 1430 and 1440. It is in the form of a poem some 800 line? long, written in Chaucerian English. To the unitiated it is baffling. Only here and there is a word intelligible But editors who have brought copiet to this country have kindly elucidated with marginal translations. In addition to the first section, which contains a general treatise on table manners, and the second section, which is directed particularlv to children there is a third division dealing with instructions to servants on the complicated art of waiting upon their masters. This third section is three times as lengthy as the other two combined—and therein one finds food for interesting observation.

To the. lord of the fifteenth century, his own deportment was apparently of little importance. Being a gentleman, it was his privilege to eat with his fingers if he so desired, but w r oe unto the poor footman who placed the hemmed edge of the tablecloth toward his master instead of the selvaged edge. In all justice, however, it should be pointed out that the unknown author of this first book of etiquette takes a firm stand against the practice, evidently quite prevalent in those days of preferring Nature’s own eating implements to the less familiar knife, fork and spoon provided by man. Likewise, he' cautions against the sin of gourmandising. lie seems, however, prompted in his admonition rather by a sense of expediency than by any regard for the convention's of dajnty breeding.

“Don’t,” he says, to use the words of the marginal translator, “ don’t cram your cheeks with food like an ape, for if any one should speak to you, you can’t answer but must wait. Don’t drink with food in your mouth, as you may get choked or killed by its stopping your wind.” Clearly the author’s care is not for the unpleasant effect which the sight

of an overstaffed mouth may have upon the other diners. He is thinking; rather of the dangers of death by suffocation and the conversational disadvantages of smart answers too long delayed. In other portions of the poem he is more altruistic, cautioning, for example, . against dipping food into the common salt cellar, scratching the dog while at table, laughing with the mouth full, blowing upon the food, leaning the elbows on the table, making spots on the cloth, wiping the teeth with the tablecloth, or “ supping potage noisily.” The reader is also admonished not to eat with his knife, which inevitably forces the admission that progress in the fine art of eating has in some respects made no decided advance in the last 500 years. Even now our most up-to-date manuals of etiquette still find it necessary to call attention to he fact that the knife is a cutter and not a conveyer. But perhaps the most revealing sentence of the erijbire poem—the one vhich throws the greatest light on the learty indelicacy of post-Chaucerian nanners, is the following couplet; “If you spitte ouer the borde, or elles opon, “ You shalle be holden an uncurtaj'se mon.” Which, in the unminced words of the translator, means, Don’t spit on the table. That's, rude.” So much for fifteenth century polish. rvnocner famous " eourtasye ” book, written a few decades later, bears the lame of William Caxton, England's irst printer. It was designed primarily for the young and lists among ther things the seven prayers which hey should say each morning while Iressing, and the hefty tomes on which hey should feed their budding intellect—books such as Gower’s “ Confessio Vmantis,” Occlevetoo’s “De Regimine ’rincipum ” and Lydgate’s “ Rex Splenlens.” The author i indulges in many highounding platitudes on the rewards of meekness and virtue, but occasionally he falls from grace and injects a few jits of shrewd and earthly advice, such is the following: “ When you serve at table be attentive and handy—especially to well-off men.” The revolt of the younger generation igainst too much dictation from elders who were themselves not entirely above reproach in the matter of manners ame apparently two centuries latei when eight-year-old Francis Hawkins took it upon himself to write a book of etiquette. And a right good one it was, too, when you consider the recordbreaking run of eleven editions which “ Youth’s Behaviour, or Decency in Conversation Among Men,” enjoyed following its first publication in 1636. For the most part it contains little that is. new, despite the refreshing youthfulness of its author. In spots, however, the naive phraseology is interesting. when, for example. young Francis says: “It is a point of wholesomeness to wash one’s hands and face as soon as one is up, and to comb one’s head in time and season—but not too curiously.” To those who have formed a rather romantic picture of the lace-ruffled, satin-breeched cavaliers of- the days of King James and King Charles it will probably come as a rude shock to learn that their manners were not at all times as intriguing as their raiment. Else why should the young authority find it necessary to call attention to the following: “ One. ought not to cast under the table bones, parings, wine or such things. Notwithstanding, if one be constrained to spit something which is hard to chew or which causeth irksomeness, then one may throw it dexterously forth upon the ground, turning oneself, if it be possible, somewhat aside.”

When the book reached the height of its popularity in the middle of the seventeenth century a person named Robert Codrington appended a few chapters of advice to young girls. The most enlightening bit is the following, showing as it does what women did with their spare time before the days of bridge, shopping and true-story magazines.

“To entertain young Gentlewomen in their hours of Recreation we shall commend unto them * God’s Revenge Against Murther' and Artemidorus’s ‘ Interpretation of Dreams.’ ” The beginning of the eighteenth century witnessed the publication in London of “ The Rules of Civility, or the Maxims of Genteel Behaviour,'’ a translation from the French.

Etiquette by this .time had become complicated tremendouslv by the fact that society was divided into three classes —your superiors, your equals and your inferiors—and for each there was a different code. Toward your inferiors anything short of murder went; towards your equals you simply let your conscience be your guide, but toward your superiors strict adherence to an iron-bound set of complicated rules was vital if you had any social

aspirations whatever. Certain things quite all right in the absence of the elite were decidedly tabu ►in their presence. Witness this paragraph taken from the chapter on table manners: "It is not civil to pick your teeth at the table with your knife *or fork or rinse your mouth after you have dined if-and here’s the rub—" there be persons of quality in the room."

Despite the intricacies and ramifications which the rules of perfect behaviour had assumed in the three centuries which had elapsed since men had first been cautioned against the rudeness of spitting on the table, it must be regretfully admitted that table manners seemed to have progressed slowly. One is even tempted to believe that the unknown author of the “ Rules of Civility " patterned portions of his treatise after the equally unknown author of the “ Boke of Courtasye.”. There is a remarkable similarity of thought, even’ of phraseology in spots. Take, for example, this passage: “ You must cut your meat into small pieces and mot put great gobbets into your mouth that may bunch out your cheeks like a monkey.”

Like his predecessor, the author of these maxims cautions against dipping into the common trench a spoon which already has been placed in one's mouth. Correct social usage, he points out, demands that one should first wipe the spoon with one’s napkin. Of course, he adds, if one insists upon being especially dainty one can send the spoon to the sideboard and have it washed first. The inference to this latter statement is. however, that such practice savours somewhat of oversqueamishness. Drinking in that far-off benighted age was a serious business and not at all the convivial, prohibited pastime which is it now. “It savours of too much familiarity.” says the author. “ to sip your wines and make three or four draughts before you come to the bottom. Tis better to, drink it off at once, not rambling up and down the room with your eyes, but keeping them fixed on the bottom of the glass. It is not civil to leave anything in your glass.”

Incidentally, the final precept set forth in this paragraph is one of the few in the book strictly in line with present-clay practice. The habit of eating with one's fingers does not seem to have been completely outgrown, for the author gives this valuable tip to those who would cultivate daintiness: “ To keep your fingers clean, it is best to eat nothing but with a fork.”