PUBLIC DINNERS.
DOUBTLESS it is safer to quarrel with a public dinner than with one's private bread-and-butter; but even in the case of the former, it would perhaps be better for the guest to look upon every invitation to public feasting as his own individual calamity, and to go, if necessary, whither he is bidden, in that chastened frame of mind that is prepared rather to endure than to enjoy. It is natural, however, that this policy should fail to commend itself to those whose busi- ness, position, or misfortune makes them frequent recipients of this doubtful hospitality, and we have a very sincere sympathy for the Rev. Harry Jones, who, in the pages of the National Review, advocates some reform in the conduct of public festivities, for be would seem to have been a constant victim of the infliction in its worst possible shape,—the Political dinner. Briefly stated, his complaints are these : that at such gatherings one rarely likes what one is offered to eat, and never is offered what one likes to drink ; that the guests are ill- assorted ; that the speakers are too prolix, and often inaudible ; that the seating of the company is sometimes invidious, and the attendance upon it always inadequate; and finally—oh, shame upon our want of civilisation !—there are no finger-glasses. After some speeches one would like to wash one's hands a good deal: We confess that the complainant has much reason in this and in his other indictments ; but at the same time we do not think that he distinguishes suffi- ciently between the various forms of public feasting, and that he expects too much in looking for the same measure of enjoyment in them all.
Some of the festivities that he mentions hardly come under the head of public dinners at all. They are sumptuous feasts given by the private hospitality of Corporations and Societies to their friends among the general public, and as such they are beyond criticism. Of this nature are the City dinners, or the Academy and Literary banquets. Others, like Regimental and School dinners, are simply family gatherings. These dinners, while they have the general aim of promoting pleasure by good eating in congenial company, are necessarily particular in their guests. Whereas the public dinners properly so called, such as Political or Charity dinners, are much more general in the company invited, and aim at one particular end, the pleasure of the guests being but a secondary consideration. The badness of these entertainments varies a good deal, according to the price of the ticket of invitation, and one cannot expect to be as well-fed for half-a-guinea as for two : the badness of the speeches varies according to some other law, as yet undis- coverable, and is not to be remedied by increased expen- diture. But it is hardly fair to compare even the best managed and most costly of these gatherings to such a luxurious entertainment as a City dinner. Who does not remember Thackeray's description of a City dinner ? When " Mr. Spec " partook of the hospitality of the Honour- able Company of the Bellows-Menders in their splendid hall in Marrow-Pudding Lane ; when two thousand pints of turtle soup floated in a vast tureen ; when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego warbled sweet and appropriate ditties ; when Mr. Chisel roared out the toasts, and the Minister for the Red- Tape and Sealing-Wax Office returned thanks on behalf of the Government in an immortal speech. To-day the civic feasts are shorn of half their glories ; sadly dwindled is the stature of Gog and Magog ; gone are the three children, sweet singers of Israel ; and the rich green sea—two thousand pints of it—upon which the islands of Calipash and Calipee so generously floated, has given place to an inferior liquid, the product of that delusive beast, the Mock- Turtle. Nevertheless, the City banquet is still abundant in quantity and rich in quality ; the halls of the City Fathers are as splendid, and even more venerable than before ; and their
hospitality is still an unmixed joy to those who can find a pleasure in eating for eating's sake. That there are not many such nowadays, is due to the decay of that ancient and 'respectable vice, gluttony. But without being greedy, one may still take some pleasure in one's food ; and in the public dinner, either charitable or political, that pleasure is lamentably wanting. One is free to console oneself with the reflection that one is there for a worthier and more noble purpose than mere eating, but that reflection does not make cold soup and fiery -sherry more palatable. Even when that uncomfortable prelude to the real business of the evening is over, when the tables have been cleared and the waiter, who till then has systematically neglected one's wants, hovers around with most delicate atten- tions, and solicits tips with persuasively up-turned palm and the intimation that he is " not coming back any more, Sir;" when one's bodily wants are supposed to have been satisfied, and one is embarked on a flow of soul and feast of reason ; even then there are as many drawbacks to the enjoyments of that intellectual festivity as to that of the festivity that went before. In the first place, it has become an almost universal custom to smoke on these occasions. Now, the fumes of a hundred cigars or so, added 'to the stale and lingering odours that lurk behind when the dinner has departed, create an atmosphere which must be felt in order to be realised. Then there is an annoying want of proportion in the length of the speeches : the eloquent statesman whose speech may be the chief attraction of the 'evening, discourses for a short ten minutes, while some un- fortunate nobody babbles nervously for nearly an hour, simply because he does not know how to leave off. Finally, one does not always know who is speaking, why he is speaking, or what he is speaking about. As Mr. Jones justly observes, these last drawbacks might be easily remedied, and there is no reason why they should not be. We are inclined to doubt, however, whether any reform would make a political or a charity dinner a really pleasurable function : the combination of dining with political discussion or appeals for charitable subscriptions may be advisable, may even be necessary, but it is obvious that the most important factor of that combination will receive the most consideration, and that the other will suffer in conse- quence.
Before committing ourselves to any definite opinion on the subject, it is well to take lawyers' advice ; and in this case we -cannot be better advised than by that learned lawyer and Judge, Lord Stowell. " Sir," said Lord Stowell, who was apparently consulted by Mr. Croker as to the benefit derived from public dinners, " I approve of the dining system ; it puts people in good-humour, and makes them agree when they -otherwise might not,—a dinner lubricates business." Against that judicial sentence there is no appeal; otherwise we might urge that all dinners are not equally provocative of good- humour, and that, though they may make people agree with each other, they do not always agree with the people them- selves. We may suppose, however, that that is the main idea of the public dinner,—to lubricate business (0 learned Judge ! we thank thee for that word). That is to say, that in the case of the great body of guests, an appeal is made, not from Philip drunk to Philip sober, but from Philip sober—from Philip fasting, let us say, to Philip full. The latter is less disposed to be critical, and more -inclined to applause and charity. Secondly, in the case of the speakers, the process of lubrication is more obviously -apparent in the wine that loosens their tongues and enourages them to speak out of the fullness of their knowledge. Whether speakers are rendered more persuasive and their hearers less critical by such dinners as are now in vogue, remains a moot question. At any rate, any reform that would tend to make the process of lubrication more palatable to those concerned, must at the same time make it more efficacious, and for that reason should be warmly /encouraged. Such reforms as are proposed by Prebendary Jones seem not only very sensible but very feasible, with the exception of the one destined to limit each separate speech to -a certain maximum of time. In the first place, it would be unreasonable and undesirable to expect the same length of discourse from every speaker, from the unpractised proposer of the toast, and the fluent and hardened orator with whose -name that toast has been coupled; and in the second place, it would be impossible to enforce such a rale against the will of the andience, who might possibly be anxious that some gentle- man should continue his remarks. At the risk of seeming frivolous, we should be inclined to suggest that the speeches should be delivered during the dinner itself, and not after it, each speech occupying the same length of time as one course. Thus, while devouring their fish, the guests might well listen to some one who returns thanks for the toast drunk to the Navy ; or the Chancellor of the Exchequer might appropriately unfold his policy while his hearers discuss a vol-au-vent a la .Financiere. No speaker would be likely to encroach upon the time of another, if his speech prevented and debarred him from his own dinner. We cannot think of any other emen- dation, except that there should be no dinner at all,—or such a dinner as is indulged in by actors upon the stage. Indeed, there is an element of unreality and false pretence in all this make-believe of feasting, that would be far more appropriately accompanied by the gilt, wineless goblets and pasteboard viands that make so brave a show upon the table of the stage, than by real food and drink that are generally followed by pains upon the morrow. We talk cheer- fully of killing the fatted calf ; but what insipid and tasteless cheer does veal afford ! We pretend that we have come to- gether to feast and rejoice ; but it is but an excuse,—an excuse for the opportunity of making heard our own or our friends' voices.
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