ON WAITERS
(Extracts from Mr. Dodgson’s diary during his Continental tour with Canon Liddon in the summer of 1867)
July 13th (Dover). We breakfasted, as agreed, at eight, or at least we then sat down and nibbled bread and butter till such time as the chops could be done, which great event took place at half-past. We tried pathetic appeals to the wandering waiters, who told us, “They are coming, sir,” in a soothing tone, and we tried stern remonstrance, and they then said, “They are coming, sir,” in a more injured tone; and after all such appeals they retired into their dens, and hid themselves behind sideboards and dish-covers, and still the chops came not. We agreed that of all virtues a waiter can display, that of a retiring disposition is quite the least desirable.
August 6th (Nijni Novgorod). We went to the Smernovaya (or some such name) Hotel, a truly villainous place, though no doubt the best in the town. The feeding was very good and everything else very bad. It was some consolation to find that as we sat at dinner we furnished a subject of the liveliest interest to six or seven waiters, all dressed in white tunics, belted at the waist, and white trousers, who ranged themselves in a row and gazed in a quite absorbed way at the collection of strange animals that were feeding before them. Now and then a twinge of conscience would seize them that they were, after all, not fulfilling the great object of life as waiters, and on these occasions they would all hurry to the end of the room, and refer to a great drawer which seemed to contain nothing but spoons and corks. When we asked for anything, they first looked at each other in an alarmed way; then, when they had ascertained which understood the order best, they all followed his example, which always was to refer to the big drawer.
September 4th (Giessen). We moved on to Giessen, and put up at the “Rappe Hotel” for the night, and ordered an early breakfast of an obliging waiter who talked English. “Coffee!” he exclaimed delightedly, catching at the word as if it were a really original idea. “Ah, coffee—very nice—and eggs? Ham with your eggs? Very nice——” “If we can have it broiled,” I said.
“Boiled?” the waiter repeated with an incredulous smile.
“No, not boiled,” I explained—“broiled!” The waiter put aside this distinction as trivial. “Yes, yes, ham,” he repeated, reverting to his favourite idea. “Yes, ham,” I said, “but how cooked?”
“Yes, yes, how cooked,” the waiter replied with the careless air of one who assents to a proposition more from good nature than from a real conviction of its truth.