The immortal Pepys describes a Lord Mayor’s Feast which was given in 1663. It was served at one o’clock, and a bill of fare was placed, together with a salt-cellar, in front of every guest; whilst at the end of each table was a list of “persons proper” there to be seated. Pepys was placed at the merchant-strangers’ table, “where ten good dishes to a mess, with plenty of wine of all sorts.” Napkins and knives were, however, only supplied at the Lord Mayor’s table to him and the Lords of the Privy Council; and Pepys complains bitterly that he and those who were seated with him had no napkins nor change of trenchers, and had to drink out of earthen pitchers. He, however, took his spoon and fork away with him, as was customary in those days with all guests invited to entertainments. But as each guest brought his own tools, nobody was the worse for this custom. The dinner, says Pepys, was provided by the Mayor and two sheriffs for the time being, and the whole cost was between £700 and £800. We are not told what was drunk at the Mansion House on that occasion, but I have a list before me of the potables served at the Lord Mayor’s banquet in 1782—more than a century later—which seems deserving of mention in this little work:— {17} Port 438 bottles Lisbon 220 „ Madeira 90 „ Claret 168 „ Champagne 143 „ Burgundy 116 „ Malmsey, or Sack 4 „ Brandy 4 „ Hock 66 „ ──── Grand Total 1249 „ There be several remarkable features in the above list. I had imagined that a taste for claret had not been fully acquired by the British ratepayer until some years later than this; whilst the virtues of champagne could not have been fully recognized. Lisbon, I conceive to have been another sort of port, and this seems to have been neck-and-cork above all other vintages in popular favour. The taste for such mawkish stuff as malmsey must have been at vanishing point; whilst one is led to ask what, with only such a minute allowance of sack, did these feasters drink with their soup? Was the succulency of calipash and calipee known in those days; and if so, where was the harmless necessary milk-punch? But the most remarkable feature of all in the above catalogue is the meagre allowance of brandy for the crowd. The parable of the loaves and fishes would not appear more miraculous than that, in these later days, a multitude could be filled, after a big dinner, with _four_ bottles of cognac! And this despite the fact of whisky having almost entirely usurped the place of the other strong-water. {18}