  We have endeavoured to describe in the preceding pages some of those antique entertainments, which seem to be the summum bonum of the gigantic power of those shameless dominators of the Roman empire, whose reigns might be counted as so many banquets, and for whom the entire world was transformed into one vast market. We are reduced to despair when we attempt to depict such sensualism, and we also despair of inspiring belief. When one goes back into those old pagan times,—when one shuts out the world as it is, to evoke the manners and customs of days gone by, and breathe in their atmosphere,—the mind experiences a sort of stupefaction, so much is it immersed in the senses, so thick is the moral darkness, so low has man fallen! And, as if it had been decreed that everything should concur to consummate the annihilation of the human species, on the one hand, almost the whole family of man was, for the first time since their dispersion, collected into one body under the Roman domination, which spread its corruption throughout the several members; while, on the other hand, the hordes of barbarians who pressed round—like ferocious beasts waiting till the arena opened—were about to over-run the earth, in the absence of any civilising element that could interpose to stay the destruction, by snatching the conquered from the hands of victory, and the conquerors themselves from their own ferocity. It belongs not to us to portray this fearful cataclysm, this sudden transition from the development of all the arts which perpetuate the enjoyments of life to the profound ignorance, the savage rudeness, which the northern conquerors imposed on enslaved Europe. The fifth was the last century of Rome. It was then that barbarism became everywhere victorious. The Vandals were masters of Africa, the Lombards of Italy, the Visigoths of Spain, the Franks of Gaul. Literature followed the destiny of the empire, and seemed to perish at the same time. It is, however, impossible for nations not to receive, as an inheritance from people civilised before themselves, a great part of their intellectual cultivation. Happily modern Europe was swayed by this law: the barbarians reduced Rome by the force of arms,—Rome triumphed in the long run over the barbarians by the genius of civilisation and her arts. It is known that even after the introduction of vulgar idioms, the learned of the middle ages continued the use of Latin, and that in the 15th century that beautiful language, purified from barbarian corruptions, became once more classic, particularly in Italy. At that epoch, an obscure inhabitant of Mentz, John Guttenberg, immortalised himself by the discovery of printing, just as the love of antiquity was causing the old literary masterpieces to be sought out, and creating a demand for copies of the manuscripts. Then, as if they had risen from their tombs after a thousand years of forgetfulness, all the writers of antiquity re-appeared, to charm, instruct, and renovate the world. It was the era of regeneration, when you, O, beloved masters! Pliny, Apicius, Petronius, AthenÆus,—and you, ingenuous and faithful chroniclers of the gastronomic follies of the people-king,—were resuscitated in all your glory! Others instructed the universe in philosophy, eloquence, and history,—you taught man how the ancients dined; and, thanks to your lessons, our fathers began to comprehend that, since the table is the great scene of life where bonds of friendship are formed and cemented, banqueting is indispensable to the prosperity of nations. No one will accuse us, we hope, of endeavouring to establish a paradox for which we could hardly find an excuse, in our love of the culinary art, as long experience, and public facts within the memory of all, victoriously confirm our assertion. Let us interrogate the 19th century. Hardly had the lamentable wars which divided the nations of Europe ceased,—hardly had the vibration of the last cannon-shot died away,—when the people of every clime—too long disunited—sealed by fraternal banquets their tardy but frank reconciliation. The destructive genius of war is succeeded by those grand struggles of commerce and industry, which, aided by the arts and sciences of civilisation, dispense to all the blessing of reproductive wealth. And then dinner is the sine qu non,—to that goal all our efforts tend. The Englishman dines in Paris, the Frenchman dines in London; the time-honoured national dishes become cosmopolite, like those who dwell on the banks of the Thames or the Seine; on both sides the people are proud to communicate the arcana of those delicate preparations, which have only to cross the frontier to obtain, under a favourable sky, a more ample illustration and a new right of citizenship. Appetite, the roasting-jack,—in a word, gastronomy, serves perhaps to unite men much more firmly than motives of interest; and more than one thought useful to the human species has often originated in the midst of the creative excitement of a banquet, where, to say the least, we meet with that hearty goodwill and friendly aid which might be wanting elsewhere. Shall we mention that prodigious enterprise with which a noble prince—the enlightened protector of industry and the arts, and so worthy of our love and respect—has deigned to couple a name dear to public gratitude? The royal plan was nothing less than this: to erect an immense, costly, and This great and complex idea struck many persons no doubt with surprise; but England—we must do her the justice which facts prove to be her due—is always ready to undertake impossibilities, and generally performs them. However, it was necessary to bring together a certain number of influential, scientific, patriotic, and wealthy men, and obtain their co-operation to realise that modern arch of crystal, into which the industry of the world would be summoned to send its most marvellous productions. Banquets were proposed, and banquets took place, in honour of a prince who was about to connect all parts of the globe in the bands of commercial fraternity. The Lord Mayor of the city of London—that celebrated factory of the world’s trade!—invited all the mayors of the three kingdoms to come and place themselves by the side of the august spouse of their sovereign, at a feast worthy of such guests by its delicate profusion and splendid magnificence. There his Royal Highness Prince Albert received the enthusiastic assurance of the realisation of a colossal project, a philanthropic thought,—the union of nations, by rousing the noble pride of their nationality! In their turn, the mayors of Great Britain and Ireland were desirous of offering to the Lord Mayor of the city of London a banquet, at which his Royal Highness would be present; and this feast, a grandiose and sympathetic demonstration on the part of the votaries of the memorable London Exhibition, took place the 25th October, 1850, in the gothic Guildhall of York, where remembrance of the past was blended with hopes for the future. It was resolved to intrust us with the direction of the gastronomic department, and, let us add, the artistic arrangement of that banquet, which, by reason of its unprecedented richness and truly magic aspect, no pen can describe, owing partly to the magnificence of the maces, swords, banners, &c., of each county being for the first time displayed under the same roof. The engraving which we present to our readers The guests at the royal table consisted of the following distinguished personages: The Lord Mayor of York being in the chair, there were seated on his right his Royal Highness Prince Albert, his Grace the Archbishop of York, Earl Fitzwilliam, Lord John Russell, Earl Minto, Lord Overstone, Lord Beaumont, and the Right Honourable Sir Charles Wood. On his Lordship’s left were the Lord Mayor of London, the Marquis of Clanricarde, the Earl of Carlisle, the Earl of Abercorn, Lord Feversham, the Earl Granville, the High Sheriff of Yorkshire, the Right Honourable Sir G. Grey, Bart., and Sir J. V. Johnstone, Bart. As this table formed a prominent feature in the entertainment, the following BILL OF FARE FOR THE ROYAL TABLE.Rissolettes Rissolettes
Venison. Venison.
LÉgumes À la FranÇaise. LÉgumes À la FranÇaise.
GENERAL BILL OF FARE FOR 248 GUESTS.
L’Extravagance Culinaire À l’Alderman, or the One Hundred Guinea Dish.—The opportunity of producing some gastronomic phenomenon for the royal table on such an occasion as the York Banquet was irresistible; accordingly, the following choice morsels were carefully selected from all the birds mentioned in the general bill of fare, to form a dish of delicacies worthy of his Royal Highness and the noble guests around him. The extravagance of this dish, valued at one hundred guineas, is accounted for, by supposing, that if an epicure were to order a similar one for a small party, he would be obliged to provide the undermentioned articles, viz.:
In order to present to the reader the striking contrast of extravagance in ancient and modern cookery, we here give an engraving of the celebrated Roman dish (Wild Boar À la Troyenne) described in page 185. It appears to have been one of those extraordinary efforts of genius which the artist could only produce under the sanction of a lavish patron. It was a veritable tour-de-force, and, no doubt deserved the commendation it received, not only because it was of colossal size, and the good taste displayed, but also on account of the various culinary delicacies of which it was composed. We have no account of the cost of such a dish, but, judging from the excessive prices given in ancient times for all recherchÉ articles at the tables of the great, it must have been enormous. We will now resume our description of the York Banquet. In front of the principal table, on a raised platform, covered with purple cloth, was a collection of maces, swords, &c., estimated by competent judges to be worth £12,000. The most conspicuous ornament was placed immediately behind the great circular table; it was designed by the author, and is represented in the accompanying engraving. It consisted of a large emblematic vase, twenty feet in height, painted and modelled by Mr. Alfred Adams. Around the base are Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, presenting specimens of industry to Britannia. From the centre of the base springs a palm tree, surrounded by the arms of the cities of London and York; medallion portraits of her Majesty and Prince Albert, encircled by the shields of the principal cities and towns of the United Kingdom, form the body of the vase; two figures of Ireland and Scotland the handles; the Prince of Wales’s emblem the neck, and the royal arms the apex. Appended were graceful wreaths of flowers, in which the symbols of the Houses of York and Lancaster (red and white roses) predominated; and when a brilliant flood of gaslight, aided by powerful reflectors, was thrown upon this splendid decoration, the effect was truly magnificent. Having illustrated this volume with a murrhine vase, belonging to the House of Brunswick, and a curiously worked crystal cup, as gems of ancient production, we give here, as modern works of art, an engraving representing three superb drinking cups,—one for his Royal Highness Prince Albert, and one each for the Lord Mayors of London and York: the first is in ruby glass, a portion of the stem and base internally checquered with silver, and on the sides bearing white sunken medallions of her Majesty and the Prince Consort, and the royal arms of England. The other two cups were of the same size and shape, but, instead of being ruby and silver, the colours were emerald and silver; and on the sides were the private arms of each of the Lord Mayors, together with the usual heraldic emblazonments of the cities of London and York respectively. They were presented by the author of this work in the name of the Patent Silvered-Glass Company. This banquet was of so interesting a nature, that we could not omit giving some particulars of it in this work; at all events, the pomp and splendour of modern times, as far as banqueting is concerned, must prove that—from the Greeks and Romans, down to the middle ages—we have not been exceeded, except, perhaps, in waste and extravagance. The national entertainments given within the last fifty years, to commemorate striking events, are too fresh in our memory to pass them in silence. Many persons can still remember the coronation of the Emperor Napoleon in 1805. On that occasion a grand banquet was given to all the dignitaries of the Empire and their ladies, nothing being omitted that was calculated to solemnise with sumptuosity such an event. In 1810 the city of Paris offered to Napoleon and Maria-Louisa (Archduchess of Austria) a banquet as extraordinary as it was costly. A semicircular gallery of the Corinthian order was erected on the whole square of the HÔtel-de-Ville, where above a thousand guests joined the festival. In 1815 a magnificent entertainment was given to the allied sovereigns by the city of London, where richness of decoration, massive gold and silver plate, and profusion of culinary rarities struck the beholder with wonder. At the Coronation Banquet of George IV., in 1820, the old customs and privileges were ransacked to give Éclat to that solemnity, one of the grandest, and perhaps, the most sumptuous that ever could he imagined in ancient or modern times. In France, in the year 1824, the coronation of Charles X. was celebrated at Rheims with royal magnificence; the banquet excited the admiration of all present. At that solemnity the Duke of Northumberland was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary from England, and few, if any, ever equalled the liberality of his Grace, or the display he made of his wealth, to represent and honour his sovereign and country at the court of Charles X. The fÊtes and banquets given by his Grace—and at which the author was present—were of the most costly if not extravagant description, for we are told that the expenses of that munificent nobleman were not less than £200,000. The grand banquets and receptions of King Louis Philippe during eighteen years exhibited too much liberality and splendour to be forgotten; and at the marriage of his eldest son, the unfortunate Duke of Orleans, Versailles presented a scene of banqueting and rejoicing unparalleled since the time of Louis XIV. On her Majesty’s visit to the city of London a banquet was given in the Guildhall, the grandeur of which was scarcely ever exceeded, showing the loyalty, devotedness, and noble hospitality of the wealthiest commercial citizens in the world. In 1838, at the coronation of Queen Victoria, Buckingham Palace witnessed a most elegant, chaste, and splendid banquet. The Ambassadors Extraordinary, sent from all the foreign courts, were not more conspicuous for the brilliancy of their costumes than the native nobility who graced the festive-board of the youthful Queen of Great Britain. On this occasion a very elaborate and graceful fountain of massive gold of about three feet in height and two feet in diameter, was prominent on the royal table. It spouted four different sorts of delicious wine into as many shells, from which it dripped into four reservoirs, and was served to the guests by means of a golden ladle. This fountain can be seen, with the regalia, in the Tower of London. On that joyful day the members of the Reform Club intrusted to our care, at Gwyrdir House, a sumptuous entertainment for fifteen hundred persons, on a scale of liberality deserving of the highest praise. The marriage of Her Majesty with H. R. H. Prince Albert formed one of those memorable epochs to be preserved in the annals of banqueting. The opening of the Royal Exchange, in 1846, was also one of those extraordinary days on record, where the Queen of a great nation gave proof of her sympathy in the prosperity of her merchant-princes, by presiding over a splendid entertainment to commemorate the re-establishment of that commercial edifice. On the 3rd of July in the same year, his Highness Ibrahim Pacha, son of Mehemet Ali, Viceroy of Egypt, was entertained by the members of the Reform Club to a magnificent and most sumptuous banquet provided for two hundred guests. The author, having full scope to do honour to the invitation, provided the following liberal selection of gastronomic dishes, many of which were innovated for the occasion:— BILL OF FARE.
We hardly need mention the annual entertainment which takes place on the 9th of November, when the city of London makes a king of a citizen. In the course of the year 1844, King Louis Philippe paid a visit to her Majesty Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle, and during the time a series of banquets were given in honour of the King’s visit by her Majesty. The gold plate—worth, it is said, a million sterling—was used on that occasion. We shall not attempt to describe the extraordinary beauty of that service: the value in itself must leave the impression that nothing like it is in existence. In the year 1848 the return of Lord Hardinge, Governor-General of India, from his glorious campaigns in the East, was solemnised by a sumptuous banquet offered to his lordship by the members of the Carlton Club. In the year 1850 the annual meeting of the Royal Agricultural Society was held in the fine old city of Exeter, where the Society was welcomed with the most enthusiastic rejoicings, and we had the honour of being selected by the committee to provide a dinner for one thousand and fifty members. As this rustic banquet was admitted to be one of no ordinary kind we give here the general bill of fare, and a short narrative of the first attempt to roast a whole ox by gas. GRAND AGRICULTURAL PAVILION DINNER.Baron Grand
Homer tells us that a royal culinary artist placed before Ajax and his voracious companions in arms a whole bullock roasted. Since those heroic ages many no doubt have shared the same fate; and we know that in this country, on the occasion of a rich heir coming of age, a roasted ox is often given to the tenants as a substantial fare, with a well-nursed butt of ale, twenty-one years old. Many can remember that in the winter of 1812 a bullock was roasted on the frozen Thames, which certainly was something to wonder at. Another monster effort was attempted at Hammersmith some years ago, but the animal, clumsily suspended from the summit of an apparatus formed of three beams, was burnt, emitted a rank smell, and did not roast. All those who have had to attend such an operation agree that it is rather an awkward affair, and not performed without great difficulties, on account of the immense fire, which requires constant attention to keep up and regulate the necessary heat,—and, after all, it is seldom entirely successful. For the present festival, the author, who knew well the power and efficacy of gas, wished to honour the guests with a dish of his own, never yet attempted, and which he has entitled the “Baron and Saddleback of Beef À la Magna Charta.” He therefore proposed to roast a baron and saddleback of beef, weighing five hundred and thirty-five pounds, in the open air. The magistrates very willingly put the castle yard at his disposal, and it was anticipated that a large Pandemonium fire would have been seen; but, to the surprise of every one, a few bricks, without mortar, and a few sheets of iron, forming a temporary covering to a space six feet six inches in length, and three feet three inches in width, were the only appearance of an apparatus, with two hundred and sixteen very small jets of gas coming through pipes half-an-inch in diameter. It was hardly credited that such a monster joint could be properly done by such means; however, incredulity soon vanished on seeing it frizzling and steaming away; and after eight hours’ roasting it was thoroughly dressed, at a cost of less than five shillings for gas. After having allowed it to cool it was removed, and carried by eight men through the principal streets of the ancient and loyal city of Exeter, accompanied by a band of music, playing “The Roast Beef of Old England,” and followed by thousands of the incredulous of the previous day. On its arrival at the pavilion it was deposited under the grand triumphal arch, designed and erected by the author; it was 17 feet high, and 10 feet wide, and composed of all the produce of agriculture and the farm. The following list will give some idea of its magnitude: it consisted of— One swan, two turkeys, four geese, four ducks, eight fowls, eight pigeons, four rabbits, one fine barn-door cock, six ox heads, four calves’ heads, two rams’ heads, two stags’ heads, two whole lambs—all natural, and in their plumage or skin—ornamented with vegetables, fruit, and flowers, viz., cabbages, turnips, potatoes, carrots, leeks, celery, rhubarb, onions, French beans, peas, asparagus, sea-kale stalks; sheaves of wheat, oats, barley; pine apples, citrons, cherries, grapes, melons, peaches, apricots, greengages, apples, gooseberries, strawberries, currants, and the choicest kinds of flowers—all being the production of the county—and surmounted by various implements of agriculture. There was also an elegant jug, ornamented with flowers, filled with clotted cream. On the top of the huge piece of beef, was placed a black pig’s head, weighing eighty pounds when killed. It was in the recollection of many persons, that thirty-five years ago a baron of beef, weighing only two hundred and forty-two pounds was roasted in Exeter, under the superintendence of twelve blacksmiths, at their forge fire, for a banquet given at the time peace was proclaimed. The Parisians have not forgotten the great fÊte of the distribution of eagles by his Majesty the Emperor of the French, on that day when he relinquished the functions of President of the Republic for a more august title. That military solemnity was followed by a splendid banquet, at which there were several thousands of guests. It would be superfluous to add, that the arrangements for that gigantic repast evinced the intelligent taste and incredible resources of imagination of our continental neighbours. An entire volume would not suffice, if we attempted to recount all the pompous The bowl was the marble basin of a delightful garden, forming the central point of four vast avenues, bordered with orange and lemon trees. A magnificent collation was served on four immense tables, which occupied the whole length of the several avenues. The basin had been filled with four large barrels of brandy, eight barrels of filtered water, twenty-five thousand citrons, eighty pints of lemon juice, thirteen hundred weight of sugar, five pounds of nutmeg, three hundred biscuits, and a pipe of Malaga wine. An awning over the basin protected it from rain, which might have disturbed the chemical combination of the delicious beverage; and, in a charming little rose-wood boat, a cabin boy, belonging to the fleet, rowed about on the surface of the punch, ready to serve the joyous company, which numbered more than six thousand persons. We cannot terminate this rapid sketch, without mentioning that, after several years of research in compiling this work, we completed our task on the day following that on which her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen of England offered the largest royal banquet since her accession to the throne, to an assembly of kings, queens, and princes, and the flower of the British aristocracy, consisting of a hundred and twenty guests, on the occasion of the baptism of his Royal Highness Prince Leopold George Duncan Albert. This regal entertainment took place on the 28th of June, and never, perhaps, did the august sovereign display so much magnificence and majesty. We shall not publish the details of this imposing banquet; and, moreover, we should inform our readers of nothing new, were we to tell them of the artistical selection, execution, and perfection of the bill of fare,—of the richness of the ornaments and service,—of the royal and feminine gracefulness of the mother, wife, and queen. “May Heaven grant,” say we, in the words of the immortal Bossuet, “that the children of this illustrious princess, like a crown of olive saplings, may cling round her, and grow in virtue, strength, and renown; may the Ruler of empires throw a halo round the destiny of the august mother, and show to all that His mighty hand upholds thrones and protects kings!” | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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