On the second day of being stuck at home sick instead of in Paris with a dearly beloved person (boo to food poisoning), at least there is the upside of time to dedicate to my hobby. I found a modern rendering of this fourteenth-century poem a while ago, and now I was able to track down the original and translate it.
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The Rossauer Tischzucht survives in three copies, so it clearly was a modestly popular piece of literature. It is named after Rossau in Vienna, where it was recorded in a monastery. The manuscript is in the Nationalbibliothek today (Cod. ser. Nova 2584). The rules as such are not unusual – much the same is repeated in every Tischzucht poem – but there are some interesting bits, and it makes a good foil to compare the König vom Odenwald or the feasting scenes from Wittenwiler with. Also, it clearly depends on the thirteenth-century Tischzucht attributed to Tannhäuser for some of its rhymes, but is not derivative.
Those who have such knowledge
That they already mastered honourable conduct (zuht und ere)
I ask them on my behalf
That they not be angry
When I now admonish young children
That are about seven years of age
And do not yet have that knowledge
Nor understand proper manners.
But whoever wishes to hear of proper manners
Should now abandon impropriety (unzuht).
Remember that when you go to the table
You must not leave your hands unwashed.
Cut the nails on your hands closely
If they are long, it dishonours you.
If you do not want to sit like an unmannerly person (gouch)
Loosen the belt around your belly.
If you want to cut bread mannerly
You must avoid doing this:
Do not brace it against your chest
As weak women will do
Who are obliged to do this because of their weakness
At court, this will be greatly mocked.
Nobody should together sup
From one spoon, this is clear.
It is not proper to drink from bowls
And whoever improperly takes those
And drinks up as though he was mad (als er tobe – prob. Noisily)
Though many praise this bad behaviour (unfuor)
I cannot think but that these are
As bare of honour as an empty cask.
(er ist der ern ein itel vaz)
Those who bend over the bowl
And smack uncleanly
With their mouth like a pig
Should be eating with other animals (bi anderm vihe).
Some bite off their bread slices (sniten)
After the manner of peasants
And dip them back into the bowl;
Courtly people abandon this impropriety.
Some even eat so greedily
They no longer feel what their mouth is doing
And bite their own hand
Courtly people will avoid this gluttony (gitikheit).
Those who snort like a seal (wasserdahs)
Or smack their lips like a salmon (lahs)
And eat this way, as many do,
How badly they reject proper manners (sich der zuht verwigt).
Those who clear their throats (wiphitzt) when they are supposed to eat
And blow their nose in the tablecloth
Those two things are unmannerly
As far as I can recall.
No mannerly man will do these things:
Lying down on the table
Or leaning back
It is not well received when that happens.
Do not lean on your elbows
Sit upright, not bent over (gesmogen)
And do not touch yourself with your bare hand
But cover it with your clothes
If you must touch yourself.
Do not put your fingers on the blade of the knife
When you cut thick bread slices
To empty out your bowl,
You must not forget these manners.
Wipe your moth before you drink
This courtliness is always proper
And only in proper measure (i.e. not too deeply)
Should your mouth enter the cup.
Some blow into their drink
I am not sure they will be thanked for that.
When your companion drinks
You should not be eating.
And count this for an evil deed (mizzetat):
If someone has food in their mouth
And drinks with that, like an animal.
If I see this poor behaviour (unzuht) with anyone
I advise them honestly
To stop doing it immediately.
I also think it is not well regarded
That if you have eaten meat off a bone
To put it back into the bowl
Courtliness must be guarded from this.
Whoever wants to eat and speak at the same time
Or even speaks in his sleep
Whoever wants to to both at once
Will have little rest.
Those who like to eat mustard and sauces
Should do without the impropriety
Of sticking their fingers into it
They should be accustomed to (not doing) this.
Nobody should reach for salt with their bare hand
Be reminded of this courtesy.
When you want to eat eggs,
Well enkentzet (chosen?) and shelled
Beforehand you must wisely
Shape the bread into points with your fingers
So that you are never obliged
To shape it with your mouth later.
Also do not use your finger
To reach into eggshells, as often happens
And do not practice such ill manners
To put the shell back into the bowl.
Also, dear comrades of mine,
Do not poke around your mouth with the tongue
that is poorly regarded
When you leave the table.
Here ends this poem of table manners
May God protect us from all misfortune. Amen.
This is interesting in all kinds of ways and illustrates some of the rules and realities of medieval upper-class dining.
One interesting aspect is the rules for cutting bread. We know from many sources that the proper way to cut bread at the table was to hold the loaf in one hand and the knife in the other. Especially if your loaf was large and dense, as medieval bread often was, bracing it against your body would be far easier, and we know this was how people did it frequently. I used to assume doing it differently just because was sufficient explanation for the upper-class rule, and the smaller loaves of semmel or schönroggen made this practical, but the suggestion here is that it also was a test of strength and dexterity. Cutting loaves without bracing them and thick slices without putting pressure on the blade with your finger can be challenging. This ableist aspect is part of many rules of propriety, as anyone who has been instructed in manners can attest, and it makes sense in the context. Chivalric society was still a warrior aristocracy, every secular man at the table a trained cavalryman. They would show off that sort of thing.
The second observation is the rule that underlies the entire principle: Food moves one way. Anything that was in your mouth should never be in contact with the food on the table. This was made challenging by the fact that bowls and drinking cups were shared. Typically, diners shared one bowl and cup between two, using the hand facing away from their companion to eat with to avoid jostling each other’s elbows. Your bodily fluids had no business in the shared bowl. Thus wash your hands before eating, wipe your mouth before drinking, do not drink with your mouth full, do not touch shared condiments with your fingers, generally keep them clean, and never put bread or food that was in your mouth back in the bowl. Spoons were never shared and the bowl would not touch your moth, so you had to spoon or sop up any liquid in it. The mere suggestion of saliva touching the food – bending over the bowl, smacking your lips, or talking with your mouth full – is prohibited. None of this is unfamiliar to modern eaters, but many do not realise how consistent this system is and how much individual plates and cutlery helped defuse its tension points.
This is also where the rules for eating eggs are interesting. The egg is soft-boiled, eaten in the shell. You prepare a sufficient number of small bread wedges to sop up the egg first. Then you hold the egg in one hand, crack it open at the pointy end, and use the bread held in your other hand to eat it. If you lacked the forethought to prepare enough bread, you only have one hand free – there are no eggcups – so you will be forced to shape the bread with the mouth. This is unmannerly and disgusting for the reasons outlined above. Any well-mannered diner would understand how many wedges to cut and be dextrous enough to do it.
Another interesting point touched on briefly is the rule that you should not eat – that is, have food in your mouth – while your companion is drinking. In other Tischzucht poems, this is expanded to the rule nobody should be eating while the host drinks. It may be something to do with displaying self-control and reassuring the other you are not gobbling up the best bits while they are busy, but it also underscores an important aspect of commensality: Drinking is the more important social activity. Most symbolic actions center on drink, not food.
The final question is why a salmon is particularly notable for smacking its lips. there might be no more to it than that lahs (salmon) rhymes with wasserdahs (seal), but there is a parallel to consider. In Tannhäusers Tischzucht from the 13th century, the respective lines are:
He who snorts like a seal (wazzerdachs)
And smacks his lips like a Bavarian Saxon (payr sachs)
When he eats, like many do;
How very much he forgets his manners!
Clearly, the earlier poem provided the influence here. I have no idea why a Bavarian Saxon (geographically difficult to imagine in itself) was particularly known for lip-smacking, but I suspect there is a political background to this. It seems the anonymous author – or someone before them – liked the couplet, but also could not understand that word and substituted a different rhyme. It is a common phenomenon in folk music to this day.