...I do not condone coarseness at the table, but its adversary,  delicacy,  has risen to such prominence that if the Duchess of Tweedleborn were to give vent to a belch, no matter how tiny or how Bacchanalian, the scandal would be earth-shaking..

Dunderman, Forrest A.

English

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MANUSCRIPTS 41Still Mrs. Webb never deviled me for 'em like most of the otherpeople did. Why I've got so now that I'm scared to walk by someof those people's houses, knowin' that if they see me I'll have to tell'em, "No, I don't have any letters for you," and then on top of thatI'll have to listen to 'em cry about not havin' 'nough sugar or gasolineor meat or a raft of other things.Today, I brought Mrs. Webb a letter from her son that was post-marked three months ago, where on earth that letter's been God onlyknows, but one thing I know for sure is, that I would've soonerrassled a bear than walked up to her house with that letter. She's anunderstandin' woman though, like I told you. Her eyes were red likeshe'd been cryin' a lot, and her voice sounded kinc1a tired .. but shethanked me and smiled, which is more than other people would'vedone in the same spot. You see her son, little Wchb, was killed inaction two months ago.It Ain't EtiquetteForrest A. DundermanT TIE \)THER Dl\Y I was h~lVing 1_U~lCh With. a friend a~ a restaurantparticularly noted for Its delICIOUSsoup. I had Just begun torelish the flavor of my own bowl and was about to make some~Ol11l11enton it when I turned to find my friend rather furtively break-II1g crackers into his own. Now I would not have objected to sucha.ction, assuming, of course, that my friend really enjoyed the addi-tl~mal flavor of crackers in his soup, if he had not hastened to. apolo-grzc for what he considered a serious, a monstrous breech of etIque~te.His tone was as ashamed as if I had burst into his dining 1"00111 to findhim at the table wearinz only his undershirt and trousers, his un-napkined face smeared b with urease. and ana wed chicken bonesstrewn on the floor as if he h~~l thrown the~n over his shoulder inthe manner of Henry VIII. I could see in a moment that I:e wasdeadly in earnest and, feigning a kind of innocence of what IS con-~idered genteel d table, asked him why he apologized for an act which,1!1 no way, could be thought repulsive or unsightly by even the mostfastidious of diners. His reply was one that I expected: "It is notconsidered good etiquette," he said, as seriously as if he had just re-cited one of the Ten Commandments. It was then that I exploded.At the risk of having indigestion for the rest of the a fternoon, Ilaunched into a vigorous and, I will have to admit, angry rebellionagainst the ridiculous taboos to which society has fallen heir. Whencethey came, no one seems to know, but they are so firmly entrenchedin upper and middle class society that-any breech is regarded in almost42 MANUSCRIPTSthe same light as the committing of petit larceny. I do not condonecoarseness at the table, but its adversary, "delicacy," has risen to suchprominence that if the Duchess of Tweedleborn were to give ventto a belch, no matter how tiny or how Bacchanalian, the scandalwould be earth-shaking.So it is with many of the practices at the table. The dictum isthat when eating soup of the thin kind, the spoon must be pushedaway from one, never in that barbarous fashion of moving it towardone's self. I am always reminded of a steam shovel when 1 see theautomaton at the table laboriously pushing his spoonfuls of soupaway from him and lifting the load to another location. The motionis as calculated, as methodical, as any excavating that was ever done.Fashion decries the licking of bones as an affront more appalling;than that of appearing at the opera in dungarees. Which of you hasnot found extreme pleasure in nibbling at those elusive bits of meaton a pork chop which lie in the crevices no fork was ever designedto enter? The man who said, "The sweetest meat lies close to thebone" must have had pork chops in mind when he made his observa-tion. Then, when one has reluctantly put his bone back on his plateonly to seize it again for an unnoticed and final morsel, who candeny that a wistful licking of one's fingers is the ultimate satisfactionto be derived from a chop? Elbows on the dinner table, friends, ifone would be influenced by the disapprobation of the high tribunal,is an indication of boorishness hardly to be countenanced in this age ofgentility. On and on the taboos run. To be fully confident at thetable, so complicated is the system, a book of rules should be laidbeside the silver and the napkins as a handy reference for some pointin doubt.Who is to blame for .this sael ~tate of affairs? The question, putpoint-blank as it is, ~-eqU1resa point-blank answer. Emily Post, thatdenizen of the drawing room, that plutocrat of the breakfast table, isthe insidious force undermining the gastronome's enjoyment of hisrepast. It is ~he. who appeals to the finer instincts of a. man to. 1i~this teacup as If It we:e a bubl~le al.lel not (heaven forbid l) as If. Itwere a teacup. So universally IS MISS Post. a~cepted as the aut~lOntyfor what is right and wrong .at the table, It IS .supposed that If s.heshould suddenly go on record. 111support of hang~ng frO!l1 a chande!lerwhile one dines, the chandelier business would immediately f1ounsh.I believe Miss Post's books on etiquette have reached many landsand many people through translations. It al11us~sme to cons!c1er whatforms she would recommend for a group of etiquette-conscious headhunters about to sit down to dinner of roast missionary.To one such as myself, who places food high on the list of Iife'spleasures, i)eing told h?w to tr~lI1sp.9rt.it from plate to lips _is a littlelike being told how to live. I WIsh Emily Post had been a painter.

It Ain\u27t Etiquette

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It Ain\u27t Etiquette

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