Curtsies and bows

(De) “Do a nice curtsy!”, I was regularly asked as a child when visitors came to our house or when we visited distant relatives or friends. I would be trained in curtsy as soon as I could safely stand on my chubby little legs. After all, one had style and knew how to behave.

I should be distinguished and ladylike.

A curtsy girl was a sign of a well-behaved and good family.

My maternal grandmother was behind this strict code of etiquette. For some reason, she attached great importance to very good behaviour. This is actually surprising because she came from a peasant family that wasn’t particularly delicate. However, since her youth, my grandmother had no desire at all for stable work. That’s why she hired herself out in the princely household of Thurn & Taxis, first as a kitchen maid and then as a chambermaid. Her enthusiastic stories about life in the castle accompanied my childhood and I also sensed that my grandmother would have liked the noble way of life very much. She considered herself a bit more distinguished than her surroundings, even if only inwardly. She attached great importance to good manners, even though she was relatively poor.

For me, this meant that in addition to the curtsy that all girls had to perform in the 1950s, there were several rules of etiquette.

"Greetings by name and look into the eyes"

For example, when greeting an adult I had to consider quite a few things. A simple vague “Grüß Gott”, mumbled in the air, was not enough. “Always greet first and loudly and clearly, say the person’s name and look them into the eyes!” was my grandmother’s daily instruction when I left home.

Since we lived on the top floor of an apartment building, this proved to be quite tricky. If, as often was the case, three neighbours were standing together on the ground floor having a chat, I had to disturb their intimate gathering if I wanted to follow my grandmother’s rules of etiquette. And of course, I wanted to.

“Greetings, Mrs Weinzierl, greetings, Mrs Karl, greetings, Mrs Holzmann,” I called to the group and looked each neighbour deeply in the eye. “Greetings, Tanja!” each one replied dutifully and I was released from the greeting ceremony and could head outside. Afterwards, the women probably didn’t know exactly where they had just stopped their interesting conversation. Anyway, it had to be like that in a good house.

Some neighbours caused me embarrassment, for example, when I ran around the street, absorbed in my game, and forgot to greet someone I knew first. A “Greetings-Tanja!” could then be addressed to me in a reproachful tone. “Don’t you know me any more?” was added somewhat teasingly. I don’t know what people were thinking. I guess they all felt more or less like co-guardians?!

"Does the aunt get a Bussi (bavarian for kiss)?"

Back then, in the 1950s, it never occurred to any adult in Germany to greet each other with kisses on the cheek. Kisses were reserved for close relatives and festive days. Basta! A kissing society did not yet exist in Germany.

Except for us kids! If you were unlucky, then in the exuberance of a successful coffee party with a rather unknown great-aunt, you were sometimes asked: “Does Aunt Mare, Anne, Rose … get a kiss?” I didn’t yet know the expression for this kind of question, but the intention revealed itself to me instinctively: this question was purely rhetorical. A ‘no’ was not really accepted, and the adults kept whining until one gave in and was then also cuddled rather badly out of sheer joy.

The good hand

It was easier to shake hands unless you were left-handed. There was one good hand and the other hand. You had to offer the good hand for an appropriate greeting. The good hand was of course the right hand. That was not negotiable.

The other hand, the left hand, was bad and no one wanted to take it and shake it. No reason was given for the disdain for the left hand. As children of the 1950s, we didn’t seem to have questioned these rules.

When visitors came to our house or we visited someone, I strictly adhered to the rehearsed greeting ritual: shake hands, curtsey, speak the greeting phrase loudly and clearly, address the person by name and look into their eyes. I was able to do that.

Unlike my little cousin, who obviously detested the whole ritual. He didn’t even have to do the complicated curtsy – bend one knee and bend the other knee backwards. The bow of the head, followed, in moderation, by the upper part of the body, had been invented for boys. Real gentlemen did bow when they introduced themselves. Only my cousin didn’t like it. He preferred to hide when he was at risk of having to go through the greeting ceremony, or even worse, the farewell ceremony with a request for a kiss.

Reciting poems

I, on the other hand, always rose to the challenge and was therefore also given the dubious honour of reciting poems at various festive events. My mother had a booklet that was always consulted on birthdays, weddings and even funerals to find thoughtful and appropriate texts. Since I couldn’t read yet, they would practise with me until I knew the verses by heart and then put me in front of jubilarians or wedding parties or whatsoever, where I would dutifully recite the rhymes whose meaning I didn’t understand. There was always some female relative lurking in the background with the poetry booklet in her hand, just in case I got stuck.

To this day it is a complete mystery to me as to why this charade was done. Who should have enjoyed it? Was it a demonstration of educational achievement? Was it to show appreciation for those being honoured? I always sensed that the esteemed honourees were just putting on a good face for a dull game. But I may be wrong. I, as a child, felt stupid and had to believe that the adults knew what they were doing.

However, I doubt that. Because once, as a little girl, I had to recite a poem at the funeral of a small child. I can’t imagine that this was really comforting for the mother, other than being well-intentioned.

Noble reserve

The refined nature of a family was also evident in its table culture. At my grandmother’s house, even snacks were never eaten out of the wrapping paper. The table was always set neatly and forks were used to pick up the sausages. No one was never allowed to use one’s fingers. If the bread was buttered and topped with sausage slices, you were allowed to use your hands. But not at my aunt’s and her husband’s house in Frankfurt. Being the household of a banker in an executive position, they were really posh. They not only ate lunch with knife and fork but also the sausage sandwich. Hands, even when scrupulously washed, were never allowed to come into direct contact with food at the table. So dinner was a real challenge for me. A round Knackwurst or Regensburger (a typical Bavarian sausage), which my uncle loved to eat, would often slip across the table. But my aunt worked hard on my lady-like behaviour and I lost my appetite. I always came back from my visits to Frankfurt slimmer than I was before I went there.

In my childhood, fine table manners seemed to be a sign of social advancement. Anyone who was self-respecting kept moderation.

Again, there were strict rules that were not easy to follow, especially for hungry children when it came to their favourite dishes. You had to eat what was on your plate. But what was not yet on your plate could not simply be taken. Everybody at the table had to ask if they could have some more of this or that dish. This was usually not a problem if there was still plenty of everything. On the contrary, it made the housewife proud if people enjoyed her food and asked for more.

Yet, when it came to the last piece of meat, dumplings, cakes, etc., the situation was different, rather complicated.

When the hostess offered the leftover piece around the table everyone refused. Dinner table etiquette dictated that you did not take the last piece if offered, even though you were hungry or wanted to snatch it off the plate. Only the last person to be asked had a real chance. He was able to grab it courageously with a “Yes, I don’t mind if I do!” and look good at the same time. Whilst the others were forced to agree, grudgingly, but with graciousness.

This egg dance about the rules of table etiquette has always puzzled me. So many conflicting signals were sent out so that as a child you didn’t know what was appropriate behaviour and what was not.

For example, I remember one afternoon in December when my parents, my grandmother and I were visiting one of my grandmother’s old friends. She had put a plate of gorgeous biscuits on the table and asked everyone, but especially me, to take plenty. So everyone took one biscuit each, praised the taste and texture, and then no one took any more and the conversation went on. In my head, however, I was arguing with my alter ego.

“The biscuits are really good and there are still lots of them on the table,” went through my head.

“Yeah, but everyone only took one, so you only get to take one!” the other one admonished.

“But Auntie said I could eat as much as I wanted,” I grumbled.

“That’s just what they say,” the other one enlightened me. “It would be rude for you to take another one without asking.”

“But I can’t ask, because children aren’t allowed to interrupt adults in their conversation. And they’re talking non-stop all the time!” I objected annoyed.

“Accept it, you won’t get any more!” said the other one.

That was too much. I just grabbed one more, hoping that no one would notice anyway as they were so busy with their conversation.

Big mistake! I had to leave the table and was ostracised, but not by the friendly hostess. She kept saying that she had put the biscuits on the table to be eaten. None of this helped! I had broken a rule of etiquette. But I have to say, it was still worth it. The biscuits were really delicious.

Times have changed - no rules any more?

Today, thank goodness, the curtsy and the bow only exist if you are invited to the Queen, for example, which happens extremely rarely, especially in Germany.

I also think that nowadays children are no longer forced to give the “good hand” or kisses, but I may be wrong!

Overall, I have the impression that today there are fewer rules of politeness or etiquette being imposed on children. As a teacher, I have often experienced that the pupils usually greet you happily and gladly when you run into them somewhere. Quite naturally.

These days, however, the neighbourhood children see no need to greet me, even if I first address them with a friendly hello. We all see each other every day, but we are strangers. At least, that’s how it is in the big city.

I get the impression that politeness and good manners no longer represent a great value in our society. The grown-ups often don’t behave as role models in public. For instance, when passing a swinging door, very few people look back to see if someone is following them and hold the door a little longer until the other person can take it over. It happens to me time and again that the door slams shut in my face. Or conversely, quite a few people even slip past me through the door I’m holding. But I never hear them saying thank you. I wonder if they think anything of it.

In any case, it is a blessing that these hypocritical and absurd dinner table rules are no longer so strictly enforced. In our family, at any rate, there is no longer enforced shy restraint when it comes to eating the last piece of food. And plates of biscuits empty as if by magic. If everyone wants the last piece of food, we share it. If you express your wishes, you can have them fulfilled, I would say. (TA)

It would be interesting to know if there were other or even more strict rules of etiquette in other families or other countries.