It is well, sometimes, to read what other nations think of us, and our customs, even if it be Max O'Rell and water, and we find in a Newspaper of Feb. 13th, the following. It will create a smile to read the account of English Manners given by a Frenchman, who, on the authority of a short residence, takes upon himself to describe, and expose our peculiarities. A little volume, entitled "A Year in London," gives the following account of a public Tavern Dinner:—
"Few days pass in London without public Dinners. Our traveller acquainted a Portuguese Jew, long resident in London, with the desire he had to make one at this kind of entertainment. 'Nothing is so easy. How do you go to the play?' 'I pay for a ticket at the door.' 'How do you see Westminster Abbey?' 'I pay a shilling at every door they open for me.' 'How do you see St. Paul's, the Tower, the Crown Jewels?' 'The same way, I pay.' 'You see, then, in London, you have only to pay; you must, however, take care to have your name put down two days before, for decency's sake, that you may not have the appearance of going to a Table d'Hôte; but I will put you down for one that is to take place to-morrow.'
"Each having paid 15s. entrance," says our traveller, "we were introduced into a large dining-room, surrounded by tables, where, already, were seated about two hundred guests, though the tables were only covered with a cloth; there were, at the top of the room, about six vacant places, but we were told they were for the singers; twelve or fifteen persons, who, like ourselves, had arrived a little too late, walked about in the middle of the room. At length we were invited into another room, much less than the first, and where tables were set in the same manner to accommodate about forty persons. A waiter brought soup, and a heap of plates; he who was nearest took possession, and distributed it to those nearest him, before a second tureen was placed at the other end of the table, and that, also, disappeared, before the arrival of a third. This soup is called mock turtle, that is, pieces of Calves' head, and Oxtails floating in the water in which they are dressed, and has no flavour but pepper, which had not been spared.
"Soon afterwards, the table was covered with a profusion of roast and boiled meat, that everybody began to hack at the same time—and vegetables, boiled in water, the only sauce given to them in this country. I had hardly finished my plate of mock turtle, when it was loaded with a wing of boiled fowl, an enormous piece of roast beef, a slice of hot ham, a potato, two carrots, and leaves of boiled, not chopped spinach, completed the pyramid. No one thought of drinking, for the English, in general, are not thirsty till no longer hungry; in about a quarter of an hour, they cleared away, and put down apple tarts, in comparison with which, our village pastry are models of excellence, some salads eaten without seasoning, and cheese, to which some added mustard and salt: they then placed before each guest a bottle of red wine, or sherry, as he preferred; hardly was this done, when five or six persons rose from the table, carrying in one hand their glass, in the other, their bottle: every one imitated them; I followed and did as the others, and we found ourselves in the great room, standing between the tables, shoved by a crowd of waiters, who were clearing away. Oranges and nuts were brought, which my companions below often pillaged before they arrived at their destination. At last, after having been squeezed, pushed, and elbowed, for half an hour, we succeeded in obtaining some seats in the middle of the room, each having his bottle between his knees, and glass in his hand. After every health, one of the singers amused the Company with a song; a pause of some minutes ensued, and the same thing was repeated."
Doubtless, but for the finding of oxtails in Mock Turtle Soup, this is a very accurate sketch of a Charity dinner of the time, and it bears the impress of truth upon it.
Apropos of feeding, we may read the following travesty of the "mad young prince" afterwards the wise Henry V. "Brighton, March 13, Royal Freak.—We are assured, that a few nights ago, the Regent, in a merry mood, determined to sup in the kitchen of the Pavilion. A scarlet cloth was thrown over the pavement, a splendid repast was provided, and the good-humoured Prince sat down, with a select party of his friends, and spent a joyous hour. The whole of the servants, particularly the female part, were, of course, delighted with this mark of Royal condescension." Of this supper there were numerous Satirical prints, and I have chosen the least offensive of them, which is really laughable, the Prince being so "royally drunk." It is called "High life below Stairs!! a new Farce, as lately performed at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, for the edification and amusement of the Cooks, Scullions, Dish-Washers, Lick-Trenchers, Shoe-Blacks, Cinder-Sifters, Candle-Snuffers, &c., &c., of that Theatre, but which was unfortunately Damn'd the first night, by Common Sense!"
"HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS!!"
When ill, the good folks of that time, must, especially in the country, have been very much at the mercy of quack practitioners. It is true that both the Apothecaries Company, and the College of Surgeons were in existence, and had been, the former since 1670, the latter since 1745, but their diplomas were not considered absolutely necessary in order to practise Medicine. I give an instance early in April. "At the Stafford Assizes a cause was brought on at the suit of the Apothecaries Company, against the son of a man who had been originally a gardener, but who had long exercised the business of a cow-leech, and quack doctor; the son claiming a right of following the profession of an apothecary, through having studied under his renowned father.