If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay.
So useful it is, etc.
"One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,
Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend.
And so, suppose now, while the things go away,
By way of a grace we all stand up and say,
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money!"
To English guides, so far as the metropolis is concerned, should be added Lieutenant-Colonel Newnham-Davis' recent volume—a veritable Murray to the table of London.[43] In this gossipy and sprightly manual one may dine by proxy in nearly all the leading restaurants as well as in many of the more Bohemian resorts. The appointments and surroundings of each are picturesquely set forth, with the exact menu and price of each dinner, together with an occasional recipe of some distinguished foreign master of the range, or a dish for which a restaurant is especially renowned. And while one may marvel at the writer's facile receptivity for an almost unvaried round of vintage champagnes, and sympathise with him in the frequent iteration of certain dishes, one must recognise, nevertheless, that if the dinners he discussed as an official representative of the "Pall Mall Gazette" could be duplicated by the average diner, London were not to be despised as a stamping-ground for the accomplished gastronomer. The author does not hesitate to criticise, though his exceptions are usually in the nature of a sauce piquante, rather than a drastic condiment; and it is evident in the majority of the feasts he passes under review—now with a boon companion, and now with a pretty and well-gowned causeuse—that the special resources of the chef and maître-d'hôtel, who are duly introduced to the reader, have been brought into Aladdin-like play for his special delectation. The Benedict will doubtless envy him his petits-dîners with so varied a menu of charming women to stimulate his appetite and share his champagne and entremets de douceur; the bachelor will recognise how a prolonged series of such dinners with supplementary flowers, a loge at the theatre, and a concluding supper swell the addition, and render rising with the lark or any attention to business the following morning utterly beyond the compass of mortal power. To assist in a repast with Colonel Davis, however, is to be assured of dining excellently in London, with pleasant company and a double assurance of the truth of the aphorism, that one can never grow old at table.
Reference has already been made to numerous French minor writers on gastronomy; among whom should not be omitted the name of the eminent Dr. Réveillé-Parise, author of several works on hygiene, whose dissertation on the oyster, presented with all the charm that a brilliant style and profound erudition may impart, is unrivalled in the language.[44]