was his mother. He took the reins of the empire at the age of eighteen
(A.D. 54), and governed at first with clemency and equity. The Roman
people, transported with love for their young prince, indulged the fond
hope of long and unalloyed felicity; but they were soon aroused from
this delusion to a sense of the dire reality. Nero had forgotten himself
in the path of virtue; he rallied by trying his hand at crime, and found
at last his true vocation. Others have recounted his detestable
infamies: we will merely remind our readers that he poisoned
Britannicus,--that he caused his mother to be slain,--that he killed his
wife Octavia by kicking her,--and that Seneca, his preceptor, only
escaped his cruelty by having his veins opened. In the year 64 he took
it into his head to set fire to the city of Rome, and then accused the
Christians of that prodigious atrocity. Language cannot describe the
unbridled luxury of this ignominious emperor. His gilded house, his
ivory ceilings, his murrhine vases, the nets of gold and scarlet with
which he fished, the incalculable profusion of his repasts--everything
connected with Nero betrayed a species of pompous monomania, leading to
excesses so immeasurable and abominable that in these days they excite
doubt or incredulity.
The entire world detested the monster. Galba and the Roman army revolted
against him, and the pusillanimous Cæsar fled bare-footed, and wrapped
in a sordid robe. But, alarmed at the idea of the tortures he would have
to undergo if he fell alive into the hands of the cohorts and the
people, and finding no executioner more infamous than himself, he
plunged a sword timidly into his breast, while a freed-man,
Epaphroditus, guided his trembling hand. This happy event happened in
the year 68. Nero had reigned thirteen years!
This prince sat down to table at mid-day, and did not quit it till
midnight (Sueton. in Neron. 27),--he had reservoirs stocked with the
most rare and exquisite fish,--and he gave to his boon companions
suppers which vied in delicacy with their astonishing magnificence. Let
this, then, plead our excuse for having classed the cruel but epicurean
Cæsar among the high culinary notabilities whose names, glory, or
excesses we record in this work.
HELIOGABALUS.
Heliogabalus (Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Verus), son of Antoninus
Caracalla and Semiamira, immortalised himself by his follies, and
merited the name of the _Sardanapalus of Rome_. His grandmother,
Mœsa, had a fancy to have him invested with the functions of Priest
of the Sun, and the following year (218) the army elected him to succeed
Macrinus. He was then only fourteen years old. It would be impossible to
give a complete catalogue of the crimes which stained this precocious
monster. His luxury knew no bounds, and his insatiable gluttony led him
to send into distant provinces for rare birds, unknown in Italy. The
golden lamps of his palace were supplied with a precious balm, and
scented waters of exquisite delicacy were daily renewed in the vast
piscina of this beardless Cæsar. His beds were adorned with coverlets of
a cloth of gold, and in his kitchens none but skilfully chased silver
utensils were employed. It is said that Heliogabalus invented
after-dinner lotteries: his guests took the tickets at random, and fate
gave to one some vase of inestimable value, to another a simple
toothpick; a fortunate adventurer would receive for his allotment ten
elephants, richly caparisoned, and his less lucky neighbour had to
content himself with ten flies, and loud bursts of laughter from the
imperial stripling.
Thank Heaven! this frightful phenomenon of turpitude and folly never
attained manhood. The soldiers of his guard massacred him after a reign
of something less than four years, and threw to the populace the dead
body of a young man of eighteen, who, in the course of his brief
existence, had exhausted the treasures of the empire, and enlarged the
sphere of every crime.
The gastronomic art is, however, indebted to the odious Heliogabalus for
some useful discoveries, and for that reason alone is he here mentioned.
EPICURUS.
Epicurus--born 337 years B.C., in the market-town of Gargettus, near
Athens--taught in his gardens a system of philosophy, which, though
indulgent towards the requirements of the senses, possessed the merit of
a sovereign disdain for every kind of superstition. Epicurus had a great
number of disciples among the ancient pagans, and the sensual philosophy
of modern times hails him as a patron. At this very day the dainty
livers rally under the joyous banner of the moralist of Gargettus, and
his cherished shade inspires the guests and presides over the soothing
intoxication of banquets.
MODERN BANQUETS.[E]
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 quâ 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 sumptuous palace, in which each nation should deposit the material
proofs of its intelligence. Neither Rome nor Greece ever conceived such
a thought! Louis XIV., with all his magnificence, and the magic pomp of
his reign, imagined nothing equal to it!
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[F]
will perhaps convey an idea of a portion of the splendour of the
entertainment.
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 distinct bill of fare was provided:--
BILL OF FARE FOR THE ROYAL TABLE.
FIRST COURSE.
[Sidenote: Rissolettes à la Pompadour.]
[Sidenote: Rissolettes à la Pompadour.]
_Trois Potages._ _Trois Poissons._
Potage à la Victoria. Turbot à la Mazarine.
Id. à la Prince of Wales. Rougets à l’Italienne Blanche.
Id. Tortue Transparente. John Dory à la Marinière.
_Trois Relevés._
L’Extravagance Culinaire à l’Alderman.[G]
Chapons à la Nelson.
Quartier d’Agneau de Maison à la Sévigné.
[Sidenote: Venison.]
[Sidenote: Venison.]
_Quatre Flancs._
Timballe de Riz à la Royale.
Jambon à la York.
Vol au vent à la Talleyrand.
Cannetons Canaris, Macédoine de Légumes.
_Six Entrées._
Sauté de Faisans au fumet de Gibier.
Blancs de Volaille à la York Minster.
Turbans de Quenelles de Lapereaux aux Truffes.
Côtelettes de Mouton à la Réforme.
Riz de Veau à la Palestine.
Filets de Canneton à la Séville.
SECOND COURSE.
_Trois Rôtis._
Paon à l’ancienne Rome garni d’Ortolans.
Bécasses aux Feuilles de Céleri. Guillenôts des Ardennes.
_Dix Entremets._
Crême de la Grande Bretagne à la Victoria.
Galantine d’Oisons à la Volière.
Gelée de Fraises Françaises à la Fontainebleau.
Mireton de Homard.
Tartelettes pralinées aux cerises de Montmorency.
Crême de la Grande Bretagne à l’Albert.
Salade de Grouse à la Soyer.
Chartreuse de Fruits aux Pêches.
Gâteaux crêmants à la Duke of York.
Rocailles aux Huîtres gratinées à l’Ostend.
[sidenote: Légumes à la Française.
Petite Pois Verts.]
[sidenotnote: Légumes à la Française.
Grosses Asperges à
l’Américaine.]
_Trois Relevés._
Hure de Sanglier à l’Allemande en Surprise.
Jambon Croquant aux Abricots.
Paniér de Fruit glacé à la Lady Mayoress.
_Dessert Floréal à la Watteau._
Raisins de Fontainebleau.
Fraises des bois Françaises.
Pêches de Montreuil.
Ananas.
Raisins Muscats.
Melons.
Bananas.
Compote de Chaumontelle.
[Illustration: _Pl. 33._
York Banquet]
GENERAL BILL OF FARE FOR 248 GUESTS.
FIRST COURSE.
_Trente-deux Potages._
Quatre Potages à la Victoria.
Quatre Id. à la Prince of Wales.
Huit Potages à la Tortue Transparente.
Seize Id. à la Moderne.
_Trente-deux Poissons._
Huit Turbots à la Mazarin.
Huit Truites Saumonées à la Marinière.
Huit Filets de Merlans à la Crême.
Huit Crimp Cod aux Huîtres.
_Trente-deux Relevées._
Six Chapons à la Nelson.
Six Saddleback de Mouton Gallois.
Quatre Aloyaux de Bœuf au Raifort.
Six Haunches de Venaison.
Six Quartiers d’Agneau de Maison à la Sévigné.
Quatre Dindonneaux en Diadême.
_Trente-deux Flancs._
Huit Jambons à la York.
Huit Poulardes à la Russe.
Huit Timballes de Riz à la Royale.
Huit Pâtés chauds à la Westphalienne.
_Quarante-huit Entrées._
Huit Sautés de Faisans au fumet de Gibier aux Truffes.
Huit de Côtelettes de Mouton à la Vicomtesse.
Huit de Blancs de Volaille à la York Minster.
Huit de Riz de Veau à la Palestine.
Huit de Rissolettes de Volaille à la Pompadour.
Huit de Salmi de Gibier à la Chasseur.
SECOND COURSE.
_Quarante Rôtis._
Huit de Perdreaux aux feuilles de Céleri.
Huit de Faisans bardés au Cresson.
Six de Cannetons au jus d’Oranges.
Six de Grouses à l’Ecossaise.
Six de Levreaux au jus de Groseilles.
Six de Bécasses et Bécassines au jus.
_Cent Entremets._
Dix Chartreuses de Pêches.
Dix Gelées de fraises Françaises à la Fontainebleau.
Dix Salades de Grouses à la Soyer.
Dix Galantines Aspiquées à la Volière.
Dix Crêmes transparentes au Kirchenwasser.
Dix Crevettes au Vin de Champagne.
Dix Gâteaux crêmants à la Duke of York.
Dix Petites Macédoines de fruit cristallisée.
Dix Mirotons de Homard aux Olives.
Dix Tartelettes prâlinées aux Cerises de Montmorency.
_Vingt Relevées._
Dix paniers de Fruits Glacés à la Lady Mayoress.
Dix Jambons en Surprise à l’Ananas.
_Side Table--Vegetables._
Céleri à la Crême.
Choux Fleurs au beurre.
Haricots Verts.
Choux de Bruxelles.
Céleri à la Crême.
Choux Fleurs au beurre.
Sea Kale.
Choux de Bruxelles.
_Grand Dessert Floréal à la Watteau._
_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.:
At the cost of
£ _s._ _d._
5 Turtle heads, part of fins, and green fat 34 0 0
24 Capons, the two small _noix_ (nuts) from
each side of the middle of the back only used,
being the most delicate part of every bird 8 8 0
18 Turkeys, the same 8 12 0
18 Fatted pullets, the same 5 17 0
16 Fowls, the same 2 8 0
10 Grouse 2 5 0
20 Pheasants, _noix_ only 3 0 0
45 Partridges, the same 3 7 0
6 Plovers, whole 0 9 0
100 Snipes, _noix_ only 5 0 0
3 Dozen Quails, whole 3 0 0
40 Woodcocks, _noix_ only 8 0 0
3 Dozen Pigeons, the same 0 14 0
6 Dozen Larks, stuffed 0 15 0
Ortolans from Belgium 5 0 0
The _garniture_, consisting of cockscombs,
truffles, mushrooms, crawfish, olives, American
asparagus, _croustades_ (paste crust),
sweetbreads, _quenelles de volaille_
(strips or slices of fowl), green mangoes,
and a new sauce 14 10 0
--------------
£105 5 0
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
[Illustration: _Pl. 34._
WILD BOAR A LA TROYENNE.
EXTRAVAGANCE CULINAIRE A L ALDERMAN]
[Illustration: _Pl. 35_
LORD MAYOR OF YORK’S CUP.
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE ALBERT’S CUP.
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON’S CUP.]
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.