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my dinner for hours and hours。 I had sat down in my imagination to a
consomme bisque； sole au gratin； a poulet saute； and an omelette au
fromage。
＇Waiterkind in the making。＇
It is wrong to let one's mind dwell upon carnal delights； I see that
now。 At the time I was mad about it。 The fool would not even listen
to me。 He had got it into his garlic…sodden brain that all
Englishmen live on beef； and nothing but beef。 He swept aside all my
suggestions as though they had been the prattlings of a foolish
child。
〃You haf nice biftek。 Not at all done。 Yes？〃
〃No； I don't；〃 I answered。 〃I don't want what the cook of a French
provincial hotel calls a biftek。 I want something to eat。 I want〃
Apparently； he understood neither English nor French。
〃Yes； yes；〃 he interrupted cheerfully； 〃with pottitoes。〃
〃With what？〃 I asked。 I thought for the moment he was suggesting
potted pigs' feet in the nearest English he could get to it。
〃Pottito；〃 he repeated； 〃boil pottito。 Yes？ And pell hell。〃
I felt like telling him to go there； I suppose he meant 〃pale ale。〃
It took me about five minutes to get that beefsteak out of his head。
By the time I had done it； I did not care what I had for dinner。 I
took pot…du…jour and veal。 He added； on his own initiative； a thing
that looked like a poultice。 I did not try the taste of it。 He
explained it was 〃plum poodeen。〃 I fancy he had made it himself。
This fellow is typical； you meet him everywhere abroad。 He
translates your bill into English for you； calls ten centimes a
penny； calculates twelve francs to the pound； and presses a handful
of sous affectionately upon you as change for a napoleon。
The cheating waiter is common to all countries； though in Italy and
Belgium he flourishes； perhaps； more than elsewhere。 But the British
waiter； when detected； becomes surlydoes not take it nicely。 The
foreign waiter is amiable about itbears no malice。 He is grieved；
maybe； at your language； but that is because he is thinking of you
the possible effect of it upon your future。 To try and stop you； he
offers you another four sous。 The story is told of a Frenchman who；
not knowing the legal fare； adopted the plan of doling out pennies to
a London cabman one at a time； continuing until the man looked
satisfied。 Myself； I doubt the story。 From what I know of the
London cabman； I can see him leaning down still； with out…stretched
hand； the horse between the shafts long since dead； the cab chockfull
of coppers； and yet no expression of satiety upon his face。
But the story would appear to have crossed the Channel； and to have
commended itself to the foreign waiterespecially to the railway
refreshment…room waiter。 He doles out sous to the traveller； one at
a time； with the air of a man who is giving away the savings of a
lifetime。 If； after five minutes or so； you still appear
discontented he goes away quite suddenly。 You think he has gone to
open another chest of half…pence； but when a quarter of an hour has
passed and he does not reappear； you inquire about him amongst the
other waiters。
A gloom at once falls upon them。 You have spoken of the very thing
that has been troubling them。 He used to be a waiter here onceone
might almost say until quite recently。 As to what has become of him…
…ah！ there you have them。 If in the course of their chequered career
they ever come across him； they will mention to him that you are
waiting for him。 Meanwhile a stentorian…voiced official is shouting
that your train is on the point of leaving。 You console yourself
with the reflection that it might have been more。 It always might
have been more； sometimes it is。
＇His Little Mistakes。＇
A waiter at the Gare du Nord； in Brussels； on one occasion pressed
upon me a five…franc piece； a small Turkish coin the value of which
was unknown to me； and remains so to this day； a distinctly bad two
francs； and from a quarter of a pound to six ounces of centimes； as
change for a twenty…franc note； after deducting the price of a cup of
coffee。 He put it down with the air of one subscribing to a charity。
We looked at one another。 I suppose I must have conveyed to him the
impression of being discontented。 He drew a purse from his pocket。
The action suggested that； for the purpose of satisfying my
inordinate demands； he would be compelled to draw upon his private
resources； but it did not move me。 Abstracting reluctantly a fifty…
centime piece； he added it to the heap upon the table。
I suggested his taking a seat； as at this rate it seemed likely we
should be doing business together for some time。 I think he gathered
I was not a fool。 Hitherto he had been judging； I suppose； purely
from appearances。 But he was not in the least offended。
〃Ah！〃 he cried； with a cheery laugh； 〃Monsieur comprend！〃 He swept
the whole nonsense back into his bag and gave me the right change。 I
slipped my arm through his and insisted upon the pleasure of his
society； until I had examined each and every coin。 He went away
chuckling； and told another waiter all about it。 They both of them
bowed to me as I went out； and wished me a pleasant journey。 I left
them still chuckling。 A British waiter would have been sulky all the
afternoon。
The waiter who insists upon mistaking you for the heir of all the
Rothschilds used to cost me dear when I was younger。 I find the best
plan is to take him in hand at the beginning and disillusion him；
sweep aside his talk of '84 Perrier Jouet； followed by a '79 Chateau
Lafite； and ask him； as man to man； if he can conscientiously
recommend the Saint Julien at two…and…six。 After that he settles
down to his work and talks sense。
The fatherly waiter is sometimes a comfort。 You feel that he knows
best。 Your instinct is to address him as 〃Uncle。〃 But you remember
yourself in time。 When you are dining a lady； however； and wish to
appear important； he is apt to be in the way。 It seems； somehow； to
be his dinner。 You have a sense almost of being de trop。
The greatest insult you can offer a waiter is to mistake him for your
waiter。 You think he is your waiterthere is the bald head； the
black side…whiskers； the Roman nose。 But your waiter had blue eyes；
this man soft hazel。 You had forgotten to notice the eyes。 You bar
his progress and ask him for the red pepper。 The haughty contempt
with which he regards you is painful to bear。 It is as if you had
insulted a lady。 He appears to be saying the same thing：
〃I think you have made a mistake。 You are possibly confusing me with
somebody else； I have not the honour of your acquaintance。〃
＇How to insult him。＇
I do not wish it to be understood that I am in the habit of insulting
ladies； but occasionally I have made an innocent mistake； and have
met with some such response。 The wrong waiter conveys to me
precisely the same feeling of humiliation。
〃I will send your waiter to you；〃 he answers。 His tone implies that
there are waiters and waiters； some may not mind what class of person
they serve： others； though poor； have their self…respect。 It is
clear to you now why your waiter is keeping away from you； the man is
ashamed of being your waiter。 He is watching； probably； for an
opportunity to approach you when nobody is looking。 The other waiter
finds him for you。 He was hiding behind a screen。
〃Table forty…two wants you；〃 the other tells him。 The tone of voice
adds：
〃If you like to encourage this class of customer that is your
business； but don't ask me to have anything to do with him。〃
Even the waiter has his feelings。
CHAPTER XI
＇The everlasting Newness of Woman。＇
An Oriental visitor was returning from our shores to his native land。
〃Well；〃 asked the youthful diplomatist who had been told off to show
him round； as on the deck of the steamer they shook hands； 〃what do
you now think of England？〃
〃Too much woman；〃 answered the grave Orientalist； and descended to
his cabin。
The young diplomatist returned to the shore thoughtful； and later in
the day a few of us discussed the matter in a far…off； dimly…lighted
corner of the club smoking…room。
Has the pendulum swung too far the other way？ Could there be truth
in our Oriental friend's terse commentary？ The eternal feminine！
The Western world has been handed over to her。 The stranger from
Mars or Jupiter would describe us as a hive of women； the sober…clad
male being retained apparently on condition of its doing all the hard
work and making itself generally useful。 Formerly it was the man who
wore the fine clothes who went to the shows。 To…day it is the woman
gorgeously clad for whom the shows are organized。 The man dressed in
a serviceable and unostentatious； not to say depressing； suit of
black accompanies her for the purpose of carrying her cloak and
calling her carriage。 Among the working classes life； of necessity；
remains primitive； the law of the cave is still； with slight
modification； the law of the slum。 But in upper and middle…class
circles the man is now the woman's servant。
I reme