If you are entertaining a ceremonious company, with tastes for the frivolities of the world, or, perhaps, foreign embassadors, use unhesitatingly the French bills of fare; but practical uncles and substantial persons of learning and wit, who, perhaps, do not appreciate the merits of languages which they do not understand, might consider you demented to place one of these effusions before them. I would advise the English bills of fare on these occasions.
7th. The attendants at table should make no noise. They should wear slippers or light boots. “Nothing so distinguishes the style of perfectly appointed houses from vulgar imitations as the quiet, self-possessed movements of the attendants.” No word should be spoken among them during dinner, nor should they even seem to notice the conversation of the company at table.
8th. The waiter should wear a dress-coat, white vest, black trousers, and white necktie; the waiting-maid, a neat black alpaca or a clean calico dress, with a white apron.
9th. Although I would advise these rules to be generally followed, yet it is as pleasant a change to see an individuality or a characteristic taste displayed in the setting of the table and the choice of dishes as in the appointments of our houses or in matters of toilet. At different seasons the table might be changed to wear a more appropriate garb. It may be solid, rich, and showy, or simple, light, and fresh.
10th. Aim to have a variety or change in dishes. It is as necessary to the stomach and to the enjoyment of the table as is change of scene for the mind. Even large and expensive state dinners become very monotonous when one finds everywhere the same choice of dishes. Mr. Walker, in his “Original,” says: “To order dinner is a matter of invention and combination. It involves novelty, simplicity, and taste; whereas, in the generality of dinners, there is no character but that of routine, according to the season.”
11th. Although many fashionable dinners are of from three to four hours’ duration, I think every minute over two hours is a “stately durance vile.” After that time, one can have no appetite; conversation must be forced. It is preferable to have the dinner a short one than a minute too long. If one rises from a fine dinner wearied and satiated, the memory of the whole occasion must be tinged with this last impression.