The Impression grows on us that the man of his age is neither Sir Robert
Peel, nor Lord John Russell, nor even Ibrahim Pacha, but Alexis Soyer.
Hazlitt has said that, if literary men directed the world, they would
leave nothing standing but printing presses. We know that parliamentary
leaders imagine parliamentary tactics, and talk the _primum mobile_ of
mankind. Eastern despots think it is the sword; but Alexis Soyer knows
it is the saucepan. When Napoleon first started the distinction of the
“Legion of Honour,” Moreau ridiculed it by proposing to confer a
_casserole d’honneur_ on his cook. But we beg to propose some “Soyer
testimonial,” without any joke at all. Have we not had a “Hudson
testimonial?”--are we not threatened with a “Lambert Jones
testimonial?”--to recompense, amongst other things, the laying that
heavy load upon mother earth, called the Royal Exchange. What then shall
be done unto the man who reared that light fabric of a Pyramid _à
l’Ibrahim Pacha_, on which twenty centuries doubtless looked down last
Friday evening, as they had very good reason to do,--since they might
have seen Pyramids any day these two or three thousand years, but it is
not every day they could see a Pyramid with “an elegant cream _à
l’ananas_” on the top of it, and on the top of that again “a
highly-finished portrait of the Illustrious stranger (Ibrahim Pacha’s)
father, Mehemet Ali, carefully drawn on a round shape of satin
_carton_.”
The veracious chronicler to whom we are now indebted for some
particulars, which the world would not willingly let die, of that dinner
at the Reform Club which has frighted some of our Paris contemporaries
from their propriety, proceeds as follows:
“The appearance of this ‘Crème d’Egypte à l’Ibrahim Pacha’ immediately
caught his Royal Highness’s attention, who at once perceived the honour
conferred upon him. He carefully took off the portrait _en carton_ in
his hands to admire it; and after showing it to several of his suite, he
affectionately placed it in his bosom near his heart, with the intention
of never parting with it again. But what was his astonishment, on
looking at the spot where the former portrait had been deposited, at
seeing in the cream, as under a glass, the portrait of himself, as
highly finished, and as striking a likeness as any miniature painter
could have produced, and surrounded by a gilt-like frame! Monsieur
Soyer, having been sent for by the party, was highly complimented by his
Highness through his interpreter, who desired to know where and how he
could procure such a likeness of his father, and how was his own so
correctly drawn in the cream? ‘Please tell his Highness,’ said Monsieur
Soyer to the interpreter, ‘that both were executed from the original
sketches drawn by our celebrated artist Horace Vernet, whilst in
Alexandria. The portrait in the cream is drawn on wafer-paper, which,
placed on the damp jelly, representing the glass, dissolves, and nothing
remains but the appearance of the portrait drawn in light water-colours.
The imitation of the gilt frame is made with _eau de vie_ of Dantzic,
and gold water mixed with jelly, the gold leaf of which forms the frame.
After having been thanked by the Pacha, the pyramidal cream of Egypt was
ordered to be shown to each guest, by sliding it from one to the other
round the table (which was more than 250 feet), to the great
satisfaction and admiration of every one present. Though everything was
eatable in it, this magnificent dish was respected, and remained
untouched, but every one tried to partake of the fruit which surrounded
this extraordinary and appropriate culinary wonder.”
The above is given chiefly for the benefit of our Paris contemporaries,
who do us the honour to mention that “_le Globe nous fait connaître les
étranges discours qu’ils ont, l’un et l’autre_ (Lord Palmerston and Sir
C. Napier), _recités à cette occasion_.” Waiving the question whether
there was anything “strange” in either speech we beg our Paris
contemporaries to observe that their compatriot, Monsieur Soyer had
effected a most skilful diversion from all delicate topics whatsoever.
“Segnitus irritant animos demisan per aures
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.”
Ibrahim Pacha’s interpreter, it now appears, had other things to do than
to interpret either political retrospects or prospects, as touched by
the several speakers. And surely it might soften the hearts of our
jealous friends about the Palais Royal, to see how large a part of the
triumph of the day was, in fact, a French triumph. Would we could stop
here! But truth compels us to say that our ally, Monsieur Soyer, forces
us, in the sequel, to feel strange doubts of his thorough devotion to
English interests.
“The next dish which much amused his Highness was the one entitled the
_Gateau Britannique à l’Amiral_, being the representation of an old
man-of-war, bearing the English and Egyptian flag drawn on rice-paper,
the ship being filled with ice _mousseuse aux pêches_, and loaded with
large strawberries, cherries, grapes, and bunches of currants, being so
placed on the table that the brave and gallant Commodore Napier had to
help from this cargo the illustrious stranger, who did not cease
smiling. During that process the moisture and liquor of the ice, which
gradually melted, saturated the hull of the vessel, which was made of a
kind of delicate sponge cake. Whilst the gallant commodore was in the
act of helping the remains of the ice, the ship gave way, and formed a
complete wreck, which caused great hilarity among the company who were
close enough to witness the scene.”
The above might form a most fertile text for sinister inferences, if we
possessed the talent in that line of some of our Paris contemporaries.
We content ourselves with expressing our satisfaction that Monsieur
Soyer never has been, and we hope never will be, intrusted with the
charge of Surveyor of the Navy, in addition to that of Chef de Cuisine
at the Reform Club. We have no objection to his building _gateaux
Britanniques_, which “give way” in the heat of action; but we desire to
see no _brioche_ of _his_ contriving in the Mediterranean.