Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 August 1876 — An English View of London Dinners. [ARTICLE]

An English View of London Dinners.

“London dinners! Empty, artificial nothings; and that beings can be found, and these, too, the flower of the land, who day after day can act' the same parts in the same dull, dreary farce.” So writes Mr. Disraeli in one of his earliest and best novels. “Vivian Grey.” As it was in the days of Vivian Grey, so it is now. The dinner is the fetish of modern society, and we array ourselves in somber black clothes, and put on white ties, and do reverence to it. The London dinner is a time-honored institution, and it is as much a part of our Constitution as the gallows. To call them empty, artificial nothings is a serious blunder ; they are substantial, heavy and solemn. Mr. Disraeli, however, ran plead the excuse of extreme youth. No one but a rash boy could write of dinners with levity or disrespect. The highest kind of worship demands a certain amount of self-sacrifice and suffering, and there is much pain to be endured in the solemn rite of a London dinner. There are the ten long minutes in which you have to bend at an angle of forty-five and conveise about nothing with the person you are about to have the honor of taking down to dinner. The last guest arrives, and makes a lame apology for being late, and then is heard the welcome announcement that dinner is ready. The solemn procession moves slowly down the steps, and me m|kes the inevitable witty remark about the width and narrowness of the stairs. After some skillful maneuvers the right seats are found, and one also discovers the painful fact that here are just as many people as it is physically possible to squeeze into the room. The hostess is a good wife and a Christian mother, but she does not hesitate to confine her guests for three hours in a room devoid of ventilation, and in which the air is poisonous and totally destructive to the human constitution. The fare is plentiful and good, but it fails through the inferiority of the cooking or the monotony of the dishes. People forget the wise words of the kindly matron in “ Silas Marner”: “Men’s stomachs are made so comical they want a change—they do, God help ’em!” Little inventions ana pleasant culinary surprises are unknown in EnI. As a rule, the conversation at a on dinner is as heavy as the viands. The guests are ill-assorted, and there are too many to join in a general conversation. The surest method for rousing a silent, dull party is to. remark, in loud tone of voice, that it is strange that the Germans, who have excelled in every branch of art, should have done nothing in music. The effect is instantaneous. Every one thinks he knows something of the fiae arts, especially music, and immediately the clatter of tongues begins. You are regarded for the remainder of the eveningas a strange, wild creature, but you have the satisfaction of feeling that you have sacrificed yourself on the altar of friendship, and have saved your host’s dinner.— London Examiner.