When Queen Elizabeth dined with Sir Thomas Gresham, before she proceeded
to name the Royal Exchange, Sir Thomas pledged her majesty in a cup
containing a pearl made into powder, of the value of £1,000. So runs the
story, but we should think Sir Thomas superior to such a piece of
ostentatious folly. The display of his grasshopper crest on the
pinnacles of the Old 'Change was in much better taste.
The old fashion of transacting public business _after dinner_ is not
unworthy of remark and contrast with the present custom. In 1696, the
foundation-stone of Greenwich Hospital was laid by John Evelyn, with a
select committee of commissioners, and Sir Christopher Wren, precisely
at five in the evening, _after they had dined together_, Flamstead, the
royal astronomer, observing the time punctually by his instruments. In
our days the only public business transacted _after dinner_ is that of
parliament, and the alteration of this to the morning has often been
suggested: but if the motto _in vino veritas_ hold good, it were better
left as it is.
All public business in England is an occasion of eating and drinking,
which gave rise to "wretches hang that jurymen may dine." Gourmands of
fruit all flock to the Horticultural Society's dinner for the sake of
its dessert; and by a recent regulation, tea, coffee, and cakes are
handed round at the evening meetings of the Antiquarian and other
societies.
Professor Jameson, in noticing the Berlin Geographical Society, says,
"It does not give prizes, nor publish a journal, but confines itself to
its meetings, which, agreeably to the custom of the country, are
concluded by a jovial banquet." Thus, we are not alone in our festal
predilections, and were all meetings of our public societies terminated
like those of the Fellows of Berlin, science would become more popular,
and the lovers of good living be gainers. Still, we recommend the
fellows to keep out of their after-dinner conversations, all such topics
as the course of the Niger, or the position of a new magnetic pole.