The Art of Entertaining Part 34

"Then the breakfast at the works, in a room ornamented with hangings and flowers; the stroll in the Bois, a concession to the bride's mother, Madame Chebe, who in her position as a Parisian _bourgeoise_ would not have considered her daughter married without the round of the lake and a visit to the cascade; then the return for dinner just as the lights were appearing on the Boulevard, where every one turned to see the wedding party, a true, well-appointed party, as it pa.s.sed in a procession of liveried carriages to the very steps of the Cafe Vefour.

"It was all like a dream.

"Now, dulled by fatigue and happiness, the worthy Risler looked dreamily at the great table of twenty-five covers, with a horseshoe at each end. Around it were well-known, smiling faces in whose eyes he seemed to see his own happiness reflected. Little waves of conversation from the different groups drifted across the table; faces were turned toward one another. You could see here the white cuffs of a black suit behind a basket of asclepias, here the laughing face of a girl above a dish of confections. The faces of the guests were half hidden behind the flowers and the dessert; all around the board were gayety, light, and colour.

"Yes, Risler was happy.

"Aside from his brother Franz, all whom he loved were there. First and foremost, facing him, was Sidonie,--yesterday the little Sidonie, to-day his wife. She had laid aside her veil for dinner, she had emerged from the white cloud.

"Now in her silken gown, white and simple, her charming face seemed more clear and sweet under the carefully arranged bridal wreath.

"By the side of Risler sat Madame Chebe, the mother of the bride, who shone and glistened in a dress of green satin gleaming like a s.h.i.+eld.

Since morning all the thoughts of the good woman had been as brilliant as her robe. Every moment she had said to herself, 'My daughter is marrying Fremont and Risler,'--because in her mind it was not Risler whom her daughter married, but the whole establishment.

"All at once came that little movement among the guests that announces their leaving the table,--the rustle of silks, the noise of chairs, the last words of talk, laughter broken off. Then they all pa.s.sed into the grand _salon_, where those invited were arriving in crowds, and, while the orchestra tuned their instruments, the men with gla.s.s in eye paraded before the young girls all dressed in white and impatient to begin."

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS.

Stand back, and let the King go by.--OLD PLAY.

"Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers."

When we approach the subject of royal entertainments, we cannot but feel that the best of us are at a disadvantage. Princes have palaces and retainers furnished for them. They have a purse which knows no end. They are either by the divine right, or by lucky chance, the personages of the hour! It is only when one of them loses his head, or is forced to abdicate, or falls by the a.s.sa.s.sin's dagger, that they approach at all our common humanity.

Doubtless to them, entertaining, being a perfunctory affair, becomes very tedious. Pomp is not an amusing circ.u.mstance and they get so tired of it all that when off duty kings and queens are usually the most plainly dressed and the most simple of mortals. The "age of strut" has pa.s.sed away. No one cares to a.s.sume the puffiness of Louis XIV. or George IV.

Royal entertainments, however, have this advantage, they open to the observer the historical palace, and the pictures, gems of art, and interesting collections of which palaces are the great conservators.

It would seem that Louis XIV., called _le Grand Monarque_, Louis the Magnificent, was a master of the art of entertaining. Under him the science of giving banquets received, in common with the other sciences, a great progressive impulse. There still remains some memory of those festivals, which all Europe went to see, and those tournaments, where for the last time shone lances and knightly suits of armour. The festivals always ended with a sumptuous banquet, where were displayed huge centre-pieces of gold and silver, painting, sculpture, and enamel, all laudatory of the hero of the occasion.

This fas.h.i.+on made the fame of Benvenuto Cellini in the previous century. To-day, monarchs content themselves with having these centre-pieces made of cake, sugar, or ices. There will be no record of their great feasts for future ages.

Toward the end of the reign of Louis XIV., the cook, the _cordon bleu_, received favourable notice; his name was written beside that of his patron; he was called in after dinner. It is mentioned in some of the English memoirs that this fas.h.i.+on was not unknown so lately as fifty years ago in great houses in England, where the cook was called in, in his white cap and ap.r.o.n, publicly thanked for his efforts, and a gla.s.s of wine offered him by his master, all the company drinking his health. This must have had an excellent effect on the art of gastronomy.

Madame de Maintenon, whose gloomy sway over the old king reduced the gay court to the loneliness of an empty cathedral, threw a wet napkin on the science of good eating, and put out the kitchen fires for a season.

Queen Anne, however, was fond of good cheer, and consulted with her cook. Many cookery books have the qualification "after Queen Anne's fas.h.i.+on."

Under the Regent Orleans, a princely prince in spite of his faults, the art of good eating and entertaining was revived; and he has left a reputation for _piques_ of superlative delicacy, _matelots_ of tempting quality, and turkeys superbly stuffed.

The reign of Louis XV. was equally favourable to the art of entertaining. Eighteen years of peace had made France rich, and a spirit of conviviality was diffused amongst all cla.s.ses. The proper setting of the table, and order, neatness, and elegance, as essentials of a well-appointed meal, date from this reign. It is from this period that the history of the _pet.i.t soupers de Choisy_ begins. We need hardly go in to that history of all that was reckless, witty, gay, and dissolute in the art of entertaining; but as one item, a floor was constructed so that the table and sideboard sank into the lower story after each course, to be immediately replaced by others which rose covered with a fresh course. From this we may imagine its luxury and detail.

Louis XV. was a proficient in the art of cookery; he also worked tapestry with his own hand. We should linger over his feasts with more pleasure had they not led on to the French Revolution, as a horrible dessert. His carving-knives later on became the guillotine.

Under Louis XVI. there was a constant improvement in all the "occupations which are required in the preparation of food" by cooks, _traiteurs_, pastry cooks, and confectioners. The art of preserving food, so that one could have the fruits of summer in the midst of winter, really began then, although the art of canning may safely be said to belong to our own much later time.

In the year 1740 a dinner was served in this order: Soup, followed by the _bouilli_, an _entree_ of veal cooked in its own gravy, as a side dish. Second course: A turkey, a dish of vegetables, a salad, and sometimes a cream. Dessert: Cheese, fruit and sweets. Plates were changed only thrice: after the soup, at the second course, and at dessert. Coffee was rarely served, but cherry brandy or some liqueur was pa.s.sed.

Louis XVIII., who grew to be an immensely fat man, was a remarkable gastronome. Let any one read Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables," and an account of his reign, to get an idea of this magnificent entertainer.

His most famous _maitre d'hotel_ was the Duc d'Escars. When he and his royal master were closeted together to meditate a dish, the ministers of state were kept waiting in the antechamber, and the next day an official announcement was made, "Monsieur le Duc d'Escars a travaille dans le cabinet."

How strangely would it affect the American people if President Harrison kept them waiting for his signature because he was discussing terrapin and Madeira sauce with his _chef_.

The king had invented the _truffles a la puree d'ortolans_, and invariably prepared it himself, a.s.sisted by the duke. On one occasion they jointly composed a dish of more than ordinary dimensions, and duly consumed the whole of it. In the night the duke was seized with a fit of indigestion, and his case was declared hopeless. Loyal to the last, he ordered an attendant to awake and inform the king, who might be exposed to a similar attack. His majesty was roused accordingly, and told that D'Escars was dying of his invention.

"Dying!" exclaimed the king: "well, I always said I had the better stomach of the two."

So much for the grat.i.tude of kings. The Parisian restaurants, those world-renowned Edens of the gastronomer, were formed and founded on the theories of these cookery-loving kings. But political disturbances were to intervene in the year 1770. After the glorious days of Louis XIV. and the wild dissipation of the Regency, after the long tranquillity under the ministry of Fleury, travellers arriving in Paris found its resources very poor as to good cheer. But that soon mended itself.

It was not until about 1814 that the parent of Parisian restaurants, Beauvilliers, made himself a cosmopolitan reputation by feeding the allied armies. He learned to speak English, and in that way became most popular. He had a prodigious memory, and would recognize and welcome men who had dined at his house twenty years before. In this he was like General Grant and the Prince of Wales. It is a very popular faculty.

Beauvilliers, Meot, Robert, Rose Legacque, the Brothers Very, Hennevan, and Baleine, are the n.o.ble army of argonauts in discovering the Parisian restaurant; or rather, they founded it.

The Brothers Very, and the Trois Freres Prevenceaux, both in the Palais Royal, are still great names to compete with. When the allied monarchs held Paris, in 1814, the Brothers Very supplied their table for a daily charge of one hundred and twenty pounds, not including wine, and in Pere-la-Chaise a magnificent monument is erected to one of them, declaring that his "whole life was consecrated to the useful arts," as it doubtless was.

From that day until 1890, what an advance there has been. There is now a restaurant in nearly every street in Paris, where one can get a good dinner. What a crowd of them in the Champs elysees and out near the Bois.

A Parisian dinner is thoroughly cosmopolitan, and the best in the world, when it is good. Parisian cookery has declined of late in the matter of meats. They are not as good as they ought to be. But the sauces are so many and so fine that they have given rise to many proverbs. "The sauce is the amba.s.sador of a king." "With such a sauce, a man could eat his grandfather."

Leaving France for other sh.o.r.es, for France has no monarch to entertain us now, let us see how two reigning monarchs entertain.

A presentation at the Court of St. James is a picturesque affair and worth seeing, although it is a fatiguing process. A lady must be dressed at eleven in the morning, in full court dress, which means low neck and short sleeves, with a train four yards long and three wide.

She must wear a white veil and have three feathers in her hair so that they can be seen in front. White gloves are also _de rigueur_, and as they are seldom worn now, except at weddings, a lady must remember to buy a pair. The carriages approach Buckingham Palace in a long queue, and the lady waits an hour or more in line, exposed to the jeers of the populace, who look in at the carriage windows and make comments, laugh, and amuse themselves. One hopes that this may do these ragam.u.f.fins some good, for they look miserable enough.

Arriving in the n.o.ble quadrangle of Buckingham Palace, the music of the Guard's band enlivens one, and the silent, splendid figures of the household troops, the handsomest men in the world, sit like statues on their horses. No matter if the rain is pouring, as it generally is, neither man nor horse stirs.

Once inside the palace, the card of entrance is taken by one of the Queen's pages, some other official takes her cloak, and the lady wends her way up a magnificent staircase into another gallery, out of which open many fine rooms. Gentlemen of the Household in glittering uniforms, and with orders, stand about in picturesque groups.

The last room is filled with chairs, and is soon crowded with ladies and gentlemen, waiting for the summons to move on. The gentlemen are all in black velvet suits, with knee breeches and sword, silk stockings and low shoes.

A slight commotion at the little turnstile tells you to take your turn; you pa.s.s on with the others, your name is loudly called, you make three little courtesies to her Majesty, the Prince and Princess of Wales, you see a glittering line of royalties, you hear the words, "Your train, Madame," it is thrown over your arm by some cavalier behind, and all is over; except that you are amongst your friends, and see a glittering room full of people, and realize that nothing is so bad as you had feared. After about an hour, you find your carriage and drive home, or to your minister's for a cup of tea.

Then you receive, if you are fortunate, a great card from the Lord Chamberlain, with the Queen's command that you should be invited to a ball at Buckingham Palace. This ball is a sight to see, so splendid is the ball-room, so grand the elevated red sofas, with the d.u.c.h.esses and their jewels. Royalty enters about eleven o'clock, followed by all the amba.s.sadors.

Of late years the Queen has relegated her place as hostess to the Princess of Wales, but during the jubilee year she kept it, and it was a beautiful sight to see the little woman all covered with jewels, with her royal brood around her.

The royal family go in to supper through a lane of guests. The supper-room is adorned with the gold plate bought by George IV., and many very fine pieces of plate given by other monarchs. The eatables and drinkables are what they would be at any great ball.

The prettiest entertainment of the jubilee year was, however, the Queen's garden-party. No one had seen that lovely park behind Buckingham Palace for eighteen years; then it was used for the garden-party given to the Khedive of Egypt. Now it was filled by a most picturesque group. The Indian princes with all their jewels, their turbans, their robes, their dark, handsome faces, stood at the foot of a grand staircase which runs from the palace to the green turf. Every other man was a king, a prince, a n.o.bleman, a great soldier, a statesman, a diplomate, a somebody.

The women were all, of course, beautifully dressed in summer costume; and the grounds, full of ancient trees and fountains, artificial lakes with swans, marquees with refreshments, were as pretty as only a royal English park can be.

Presently we heard the sound of the bagpipes, and a procession headed by some dancing Scotchmen came along. It was the Queen, with all her children and grandchildren, ladies-in-waiting, and many monarchs, amongst whom marched Queen Kapiolani of the Sandwich Islands. The Queen walked with a cane, the Prince of Wales by her side. They all stopped repeatedly and spoke to their guests on either side; then the younger members of the family led the way to the refreshment tents, where a truly regal buffet was spread.