Tancred was going to give them a fish dinner! A what? A sort of
banquet which might have served for the marriage feast of Neptune and
Amphitrite, and be commemorated by a constellation; and which ought
to have been administered by the Nereids and the Naiads; terrines of
turtle, pools of water _souchee_, flounders of every hue, and eels in
every shape, cutlets of salmon, salmis of carp, ortolans represented by
whitebait, and huge roasts carved out of the sturgeon. The appetite is
distracted by the variety of objects, and tantalised by the restlessness
of perpetual solicitation; not a moment of repose, no pause for
enjoyment; eventually, a feeling of satiety, without satisfaction, and
of repletion without sustenance; till, at night, gradually recovering
from the whirl of the anomalous repast, famished yet incapable of
flavour, the tortured memory can only recall with an effort, that it has
dined off pink champagne and brown bread and butter!
What a ceremony to be presided over by Tancred of Montacute; who, if
he deigned to dine at all, ought to have dined at no less a round table
than that of King Arthur. What a consummation of a sublime project!
What a catastrophe of a spiritual career! A Greenwich party and a tavern
bill!
All the world now is philosophical, and therefore they can account for
this disaster.
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