One of the great modern demands is for cleanliness. Seldom in the history of the world have people washed as much as we do. We constantly wash ourselves, our clothes, our dishes, curtains, carpets, and cars. We have invented machinery to wash for us, and instead of resting on our laurels we have furiously raised our expectations about cleanliness higher and higher, so that home-makers work as hard now as they have ever done to keep their families “clean.” The idea seems to be that if you can be even cleaner, then you must. Demonstrative cleanliness plays for us something of the role of pollution observances in India or in the ancient world: submission to purity rules becomes a precondition of acceptance in society. If we are not very careful, cleanliness rules can matter more to us than morality. In a social gathering such as the “cocktail party” described earlier, a known murderer or thief is likely to receive a warmer welcome from the host and guests than a filthy, smelly, but innocent tramp could hope for. Dirty people are by definition outsiders in our world: they offend sensibilities and give troubling intimations of the possibility of loss of control. The bodily proprieties, as we have seen, are extremely strict nowadays; they prove to other people that those who maintain them are exercising what others intensely desire of their fellow citizens: inoffensiveness, self-control, and obliging assurances that they need no help.
Where food is concerned, cleanliness is always so important that demands for it easily become obsessive. Cutlery, glasses, and plates must impeccably gleam before we can bear to begin eating. Modern design in tableware often stresses smooth forms and plain colours; glasses are clear, simple, and colourless. Such objects are easy to clean, but also encourage us to appreciate how clean they are—streamlined shapes, which modernity often claims as its hallmark, have what are called “clean lines.” We like our fruit perfect (never a spot or a bruise), and our fast food is abundantly wrapped and cartoned (coverings suggest that everything is under control). It has taken a great deal of sophisticated reasoning to make the public realize that a perfect, spot-free apple is achieved with the help of pesticides, and that invisible, tasteless chemicals might actually be harmful. People understand the danger that chemical compounds can represent by thinking of them as pollution, a form of dirt. The discovery that detergents—cleansing agents!—can cause pollution was a fearful and paradoxical revelation in the 1960s.
At many periods in our history—often during the most stylized, elegant centuries of all—our own ancestors were freely and unconcernedly filthy. The recent and all but universal agreement to wash our bodies, our clothing, and our hair as much as we do expresses submission to a constraint massively underwritten by a very modern social consensus. Cleanliness is essential for good health; and smelly people repel others. These two axioms are sufficient to keep us all in line. For most of us, most of the time, it is the social sanction that is most decisive. We wash for other people and at their insistence, even though—and perhaps with the result that—feeling clean makes us personally “feel good.” Keeping our houses clean has nothing like the same urgency that we feel for the washing of ourselves: glowing fresh bodies often issue from very dirty living quarters. The safe cleanliness promised by fast-food operators is one of their products’ most powerful selling points, for people who cheerfully leave dirty dishes for a week in the kitchen—provided that nobody comes to visit.
The word “proper” in French is propre, meaning “one’s own,” the noun being propriété or “property”—something one takes possession of by “appropriating” it. At the end of the sixteenth century in France a new meaning was added to the original sense. Propre, “one’s own; distinctive, characteristic, and intrinsic to oneself,” now also signified “elegant” and “correct.” Elegant people, literally “choosy” people, were fastidious and “naturally” graceful, with a je ne sais quoi. They stood out—but also fitted in; they were “proper.” To do something proprement was to do it “appropriately,” which now meant “fittingly,” maintaining what we still call “the proprieties”—a word to which, in the seventeenth century, the English language gave a new sense to match the French meaning. Since then the concept has undergone another momentous and revealing revolution: propre in French is now the commonest word for “clean.”
Since complying with the rule of cleanliness facilitates acceptance by others and breaking it means instant ostracism, washing constantly is essential for social mobility. A clean person is ready and acceptable at all times for meetings with old and new acquaintances. It is not all that easy to get to know people; it is therefore simply not worthwhile being dirty and risking our chances. In addition, being clean is a basic requirement that most people living in modern conditions can meet—which is one reason why it can be so implacably upheld; it provides an efficient means of sifting out the few die-hards and giving the vast majority a chance to show that they like being thought proper. The trouble we go to in order to be always clean now takes up a good deal of the effort we are prepared to expend on mannerly behaviour. There are so many of us, we live and move in such proximity, and it is so difficult for us all to behave, that preserving bodily cleanliness has become a sort of charm or talisman, and a proof that at least we are trying.
References
Chapter One: Behaving
Introduction (pp. 1–5)
For sharing behaviour among chimpanzees, and the evolution of human food sharing, see G. L. Isaac, and Teleki. Sahlins (1977) shows how culture is a “biological” necessity in human beings. “Women can be shared …”: Firth (1973), 261.
The Artificial Cannibal (pp. 5–23)
Columbus is quoted in Knight, 16–17. Hulme disputes the accuracy of early European views of the Caribbean. Hankins looks at the roots of Caliban. Villa, et al., describe the finds of bones at Fontbrégoua. The idea that cannibalism has a purely material basis was raised by Harner (1977) who describes what the Spanish saw and gives figures, and supported by Harris (1977). Díaz del Castillo: 181, 568–69; de Sahagun: 3–4, 48; and Staden: 155–63. Other sources on cannibalism include Sanday, Brown and Tuzin, Berndt, Strathern, Bloch and Parry, Glasse, Pouillon, Forsyth, P. Brown, and Bucher. See also Montaigne, “Of the Cannibals,” I.30, and Swift, “A Modest Proposal …” A Fijian fork made especially for cannibal eating is illustrated in Rudofsky (1980), 36. Ancient Maori cannibal practices are described and interpreted by Bowden; he quotes a comment by Tregear (1904), on the great courteousness of Maori society. See further on the Maoris, D. Lewis. “On the afternoon of the sixth day …”: Berndt, 272.
Ritual (pp. 23–34)
The newspaper article describing the boy eating spaghetti with his hands is by W. R. Greer for the New York Times (1985), and syndicated; an example of a picture showing how spaghetti was eaten in nineteenth-century Naples can be found in A. del Conte, Portrait of Pasta (London and New York: Paddington Press, 1976), 40. Goffman, esp. 1963, 1971, shows how important it is that we keep alert for small signs, and give assurances of competence at table and elsewhere; the broader uses of predictability on agreed occasions are stressed by Douglas and Gross. The story of the monkeys on Koshima Islet was reported by Kawai. Lange shows how we insist on enculturation in our food and eating habits. Other sources on ritual and its meaning include Turner, D’Aquili, Argyle, Brown and Levinson, Goffman, Laughlin and McManus, Lorenz, Bonner, Girard, Burkert (1983), Burkert Girard and Smith, Myerhoff, Scheff, J. Z. Smith, Strecker, and Tambiah. Jesus on hand—washing: Mark 7. 1–8; on ritual and on bad manners, see for example Matthew 3. 13–17; 5. 23–24; 6. 2–6, 16–18; 15. 10–11; 22. 11–14; 23.5–8; Mark 2. 23–28; Luke 4.16; 7. 44–47; 11.37–43; 17. 11–19; 20. 45–47; 22. 7–8. On “bread alone”: Matthew 4. 4, quoting Deuteronomy 8.3.
Feasting and Sacrifice (pp. 34–46)
The Fêtes of Catherine de Médicis are described by Wheaton, 49–51, and Strong, 19–56; Bakhtin discusses the significance of Rabelaisian feasting in Chapter 4 of his book. Ashton quotes from the seventeenth-century “Trial of Fr. Christmas.” For beer in the societies of the
Kofyar, the Jívaro, and the Bemba, see Netting, Harner (1972), and Richards. Charsley investigates the history of the wedding cake. On the problem with meat feasts in Hong Kong earlier in this century, see Watson. Hieron of Syracuse on feasting: Athenaeus, 4.144d. The sacrifice of Eumaeus in the Odyssey (14. 414–56) is discussed by Petropoulou. Sources on sacrifice include Girard, Burkert (1983), Burkert Girard and Smith, Ashby, Bammel, Detienne and Vernant, Durand and Schnapp, Lissarrague and Schmitt-Pantel, Grottanelli and Parise, Harner (1977), Harris (1977), Hubert, Turner, and Van Baal. On the Seder and the Mass: Feeley-Harnik, Murphy, and several articles in La Table et le partage (Rencontres de l’Ecole du Louvre. Paris: La Documentation française, 1986). Murphy and J. Z. Smith between them cover the categories of ritual mentioned on page 36.
Chapter Two: Learning to Behave
Introduction (pp. 47–48)
The quotation about politeness being like the polishing of pebbles is from J. T. Trowbridge, A Home Idyll (1907). Mark Twain’s idea that it is like the cauliflowering of cabbage is from Pudd’nhead Wilson’s Calendar, 1893, Ch. 5.
Bringing Children Up (pp. 48–65)
Whiting and Child give a comparative study of nursing practices in the 1950s. Lowenberg explains why small children like packing their mouths. Food-related insults are discussed by Leach, and culturally imbued flavour preferences by E. Rozin. Wittgenstein’s neophobia is mentioned by Malcolm, 69; the tendency of the modern Dutch to neophilia is described by van Otterloo. The encouragement of French children to “try a little of everything” is documented by Sjögren-de Beauchaîne; Mintz (Ch. 5) wonders why the French have withstood the onslaughts of sugar so well. Detienne shows how civilized people in ancient Greece were thought of as “between beasts and gods,” and Syrkin looks at “fools for Christ’s sake,” who deliberately avoided “correct” behaviour. Chaga table manners in the 1930s are described by Raum, esp. 184, 127, 193–94; Read writes on those of the Ngoni of Nyasaland (now Malawi) in the 1950s (see 44–45, 79, 155); and Richards on those of the Bemba (see 1939, 76, 197; 1932, 68). On giving and sharing food as a means of socialization through the language required, among Kaluli children in Papua New Guinea, see now Schieffelin, esp. Ch. 6.
“Look thou be courteous standing at meat”: Furnivall (1908), 123. Gloag, 59, looks at the seating of seventeenth-century British children. A. Hope has interesting information on Scottish table manners, today and in the past; I owe to her the quotation from Osgood Mackenzie (his pp. 95–97). The Malawian riddle is told by Chimombo. The Malayan children’s initiation is from McArthur (1950), quoted by Yudkin and McKenzie, 54. Charles and Kerr report on the British “Sunday lunch,” and on the importance of tables in the teaching of table manners to children, 184–85, 188, 190.
Inhibitions (pp. 65–79)
A whole school of sociology appears to be grouping behind the theories of Norbert Elias. Beside his works listed in the Bibliography, and others not relevant to table manners, see Mennell (1989), and the volume containing the article by Wouters. “Children have in the space of a few years …”: Elias, I.140; “Relaxation within the framework …”: ibid. Aresty describes the old British custom of sending children to live with others as pages and maids; see further, the Introduction by Chambers to A Generall Rule … (Anon., fifteenth century). Early English manners books will be found in the two collections of Furnivall. The politicization of courtesy in seventeenth-century France is described by Ranum.
Aspirations (pp. 80–90)
“The barrier which society draws around itself …”: Anon.,1879. On sprezzatura in Castiglione: Saccone; on je ne sçcais quoi and “effortless simplicity” in seventeenth-century aristocratic French manners, see Magendie, Flandrin (1986), J. Revel; on “good taste” as a modern class barrier, see Bourdieu. “The expert removes the bones …”: Chao. On nineteenth-century American manners, see the manners books listed, and also Schlesinger, Wecter, Kasson’s book and articles, Mrs. Trollope, and Charles Dickens’s American Notes. “A radical Protestant antipathy …”: Kasson (1990), 63. “Their enterprise must be viewed …”: ibid., 62. Elizabeth Post was quoted in an anonymous article in the Toronto Star, July 28, 1984. “Even polished brass …”: Stanhope, Son, letter no. 118.
Chapter Three: The Pleasure of Your Company
Introduction (pp.91–95)
The Wamirans of Papua New Guinea are the subject of Kahn’s book; the PNG song is quoted from Bloch, 191. Assamese Hindu food customs are discussed by Cantlie. Men and women often eat separately in Africa: Goody (1982), 86, L-V. Thomas. See Okere, 193, for the dishing out of porridge in rural Igboland. The layout and the eating arrangements of the apartments of the Parisian bourgeoisie are described by Sjögren-de Beauchaîne. Emily Post’s comment on cooking smells is to be found on page 301.
Company (pp. 96–102)
“Dinner-parties rank first …”: Anon., 1879. The Igbo song and proverb are from Okere, 196. The two kinds of feast in Warnira: Kahn, esp. Ch. 8. The Gogo ritual of reconciliation is described by Rigby. In Book 6 of the Iliad, Glaucus and Diomedes are about to do battle when they realize that their grandfathers had feasted together and exchanged gifts; this makes a fight between them impossible–although Diomedes cheats Glaucus in their own subsequent gift exchange. On Sherpa parties: Ortner, Ch. 4; on Sherpa “antirelationalism”: 38–39. The remark about eating and drinking together is made by Hagias in Plutarch’s Symposiacs, ii.10.643a. For a description of a host’s problems at a large impersonal gathering, see Riesman. “To make those eat …”: L. Tendret, La Table au pays de Brillat-Savarin. Belley: Bailly-Fils, 1892. The power of Geltungsbedürfnis is brought out in Masters, 154, 157.
Hosts and Guests (pp. 102–113)
Emily Post’s description of an embarrassingly inept dinner party is from the 1922 edition, 182 ff. On hospitality in Greece and Rome, see Gauthier, Grottanelli; for the rules in the modern Mediterranean region, Pitt-Rivers. The Ghost of Agamemnon’s lament for his murder: Odyssey: 11. 409–20. Heal (1990, 1984) describes attitudes towards hospitality before and after the Reformation in England. The history of the Amphitryon myth is traced by Lindberger. For the establishment of the custom of making round-tipped dinner knives, see Pagé, and Gourarier (1985), 62. Gladiatorial combat during dinner among the Celts and Romans: Athenaeus, 4.153f–54c, Gourarier (1985), 65; severed heads brought to the table: Athenaeus, 6.251a; hurling cups of wine: Athenaeus, 13.557d. Kottabos: Athenaeus, e.g., 15.666c–67b; Sparkes, Lissarrague, 75–82.
Invitations (pp. 113–124)
Clifford Geertz’s The Religion of Java opens with a detailed description of the slametan. The subtleties and ingenious devices of Sherpa invitations are described by Ortner; the tactic of sending a child, and the quotation given, are on page 80. Bell explains how Tanga kin may claim their rights at a banquet. Louis XIV inviting his brother: Saint-Simon, quoted by Franklin (1908), II, 164. For invitations among the Chinese: Fitzgerald, Watson; among the Yao: Hubert. Hubert’s book on the Yao of Thailand is an important recent contribution to culinary anthropology. The story of Gabba the parasite is related by Friedländer, 85. Southworth’s book on medieval minstrels includes fascinating information about these important players in the drama of feasts; see specifically 47, 81. On comic parasites imitating the host’s disabilities: Athenaeus, 6.249a, 249f, 10.435e; on Roman umbrae: Plutarch, Symposiacs, vii.6. The arrival of a crowd of inebriated uninvited guests at a drinking party is described by Plato in his Symposium, 212c–d. On Roman dinner-time superstitions, see Deonna and Renard. “Resistance was futile …”: Masters, 171–73. “Nothing but serious illness or death …”: Emily Post (1922), 187–88. “Lame, branded, wizened with age …”: Athenaeus, 3.125d. The legend of the Singing Bone is the subject of Mahler’s cantata, Das klagende Lied. On Rembrandt’s Supper at Emmaus in the Louvre, see de Mirimonde.
Coming Right In (pp. 124–137)
Braganti and Devine advise what gifts should be offered in which European countries. For manners in the United Arab Emirates, see K
anafani and Hawley; on the meaning attached to showing the soles of one’s feet, see Hawley (1965), 67. On Socrates dressing for dinner: Plato, Symposium 174a; on the Roman synthesis: Suetonius, Nero 51.2, Martial, 5.79, Brewster, McDaniel. Post describes the problems of keeping gloves, bag, fan, and napkin from sliding off one’s lap: (1922), 221, 717. On face veils: Post (1922), 246; and masks: Kanafani. The cover of the 1982 edition of Goody’s book Cooking Cuisine and Class reproduces an ancient Egyptian painting from a Theban tomb of the Eighteenth Dynasty, now in the British Museum, showing dinner guests with incense cones on their heads. The ceremony of the cola nut in Nigeria: Nzekwu; of the apéritif in France: Clarisse; of evening drinks in North America: Gusfield.
Taking Our Places (pp. 137–155)
“Hsiang Yu invited Liu Pang …”: Ying-Shih Yü in Chang, 64. The Rules and Orders of the Coffee-House are published by Clair. Obey the host’s seating arrangements: Branchereau, 210. Pitt-Rivers tells how a miffed diplomat could turn over his plate. On rank and seating during the French ancien régime, see Brocher. McCaffree and Innis have an introduction on protocol in general, and its history. For the custom of “turning the table,” see Post (1945), 355. The rules of courtesy in different Latin American countries are laid out in Devine and Braganti. Ortner explains how ranking is expressed by seating among the Sherpa, 74–75. Seating and serving choreography is carefully described by Post (1937), 254–57; “The lady of highest rank …”: Post (1928), 203–04; see also Miller. Fortes writes on the food manners of polygamous men among the Tallensi. Post speculates on “the great American rudeness” in edition after edition; see for example 1945, 361 ff. Hosts and hostesses sitting at table on stuffed easy chairs: Gloag, 170–71.
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