y Ee] Bl te ATE RC CHR Se SRE SON A i 3 % Bel hha re GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. In compliance with current copyright law, U. C. Library Bindery produced this replacement volume on paper that meets ANSI Standard Z39.48-1992 to replace the deteriorated, damaged, or lost original. 2009 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART OR The Science of Good Living A TRANSLATION OF THE « PHYSIOLOGIE DU GOUT” OF BRILLAT-SAVARIN BY R..E. ANDERSON, MA 4 NEW EDITION Fondon CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1389 “1 could write a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written ; it should be a book on philosophical principles.” —DR. JOHNSON. se see.» > vay o s 220 * sw » yale 3, gL yr.» ss » 3%e 4 ® * eo 3a inlys «® . Se a 09 a sess eile “ Se. 2a 95.5 9." oe sie ° Sow iS wt es (800 9.9, oS .Te ° * oa ® ve Nd gcse ee? CONTENTS. BRILLAT-SAVARIN AND THE ESTHETICS OF THE DINING- i TABLE oh he 2 oo ay VII DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND aes XVI AUTHOR'S PREFACE oa ibe i as XXV FuNDAMENTAL TRUTHS OF THE SCIENCE bad XXXV I. ON THE SENSES on ahs ais 1 II. Ox THE SENSE OF TAste ... x od 9 III. ON GASTRONOMY aes ain ae 28 IV. ON THE APPETITE ... ave ree hi. 57 V. Ox Foop i rs i a 47 VI. Seecian Kinps oF Foop ee is ws 36 VII. Tueory oF FRYING Ag ii 88 VIII. ON THIBST Sos i 5 ore 292 IX. ON Drinks Son is via vei 96 X. Ox THE ExD oF THE WORLD ve ve 100 XI. Ox THE Love oF Goop Living ... Jo 102 XII. Ox PEeoPLE FOND OF Goop Living ... Jel 113 XIII. GastroNoMic TESTS a 5 Aes 127 XIV. THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE ave es 132 XV. Haurs or A HuNTING PARTY ... sos 148 XVI. ON DIGESTION bi - er aged XVII. ON Rest se’ is oes suv 156 XVIII. ON SLEEP ... si oor a eee: 161 X1X. Ox Dupaws |... ais a os 163 (34 R263 18RD a MAIL MN vi XX. XXII XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXXVI XXVIL XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. Tae CurE’s OMELETTE Beas Iv Gravy ... ee 4 A NATIONAL VICTORY os DEFEAT OF A GENERAL THE GASTRONOME ABROAD vos More RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EXILE... A BUNCH OF ASPARAGUS ae CONTENTS, Ox RrsT, SLEEP, AND DREAMS, AS THEY ARE INFLUENCED BY DIET ... Ox CORPULENCE ah Ox THE PREVENTION OR un OF I ON LEANNESS ... as sos ON FASTING Sie ass * ON EXHAUSTION AND DEATH a ie PrrrosorHICAL HisTORY OF COOKERY (Ancient) PrtosorEICAL History oF Cooxrry (Ifodern) Ox THE PARIsiAN DiNiNeg-HOUSES 5 GASTRONOMIC PRINCIPLES PUT INTO PRACTICE GASTRONOMIC MYTHOLOGY TRANSITION sve vos VARIETIES, Tee FONDUE 23 as Tae CHEVALIERS AND Ane MISCELLANEA A, a VISIT TO AN ABBEY ... i THE GASTRONOME IN LUCK PoETRY ave or HistoricAL ELEGY ane os PAGE 172 177 192 199 203 205 208 220 228 235 238 239 243 247 248 253 BRILLAT-SAVARIN AND THE AESTHETICS OF THE DINING-TABLE. Ceokery is not only an art, but a master-art. Saturday Review. Apxn kau pila waves &yabod, 7 TNs yagTpos 7j30yn. ATHEN. Deip. vii. 5. THAT charming student of humanity, Montaigne, who was the favourite author of Shakespeare, and who more than any other Frenchman has ‘coloured the universal thought of the world,” might well at first . sight appear as the strongest possible contrast to our modern Savarin. The one retiring to his quaint old Gascon castle, in a wild country, still remote from towns and highways, to shut himself up for the latter half of his life with his books, and ponder on his great theme, Humans nihil a me alienwm puto ; the other, always a man of the world, b viii BRILLAT-SAVARIN. nothing if not genuinely French, and testing everv- thing by the Parisian standards: the one, a stoic | (in theory, at least), solitary, all his thoughts tinged with melancholy ; the other, an enthusiastic Epicurean, sociable, with an intense enjoyment of life. Yet in one principal quality and most distinctive feature they are alike. They are both full of the «T”__both conscious of it; both their works are steeped in subjectivity, and both owe to its presence much of their charm. Montaigne, indeed, is him- self the subject of his book; and as to his opinion on any matter, he gives it, he says, not as being a good one, but as being hés. Savarin, again, makes no other excuse for the use of the “me” than the garrulity of age—a plea which is unnecessary to secure plenary indulgence from most of his readers. They, like Balzac, find that, while there is nothing more intolerable than the “I” of ordinary writers, “that of Brillat-Savarin is adorable.” Indeed, it is by the association of dissimilar ideas that Montaigne comes to be mentioned here. The thought of Savarin, “the high-priest of gastronomy,” with his sometimes comic affectation of grandilo- quence, at once suggested a caustic passage, in the first book of the Essays, which is aimed at the ‘science de gueule,” and especially at the pompous BRILLAT-SAVARIN. 1X terms and fine language used by an Italian cook in discoursing thereupon, “with a magisterial solemnity and countenance, as if he had been discussing a weighty point in theology.” On the other hand, this incidental notice in Montaigne has much value and significance here, as showing that three hundred years ago the French were not only inferior to the Italians in cookery, but could afford, they imagined, to smile at the technical terms and scientific pre- tensions of an art upon which they were afterwards to specially plume themselves. Cookery certainly held a very different position in the French mind when, during the peace that followed Waterloo, Brillat-Savarin turned his thoughts to the esthetics of the dining-table. Culinary art and the love of good living, which Montaigne nicknamed “the gullet-science,” had in the mean time passed through several phases; the chief developments and refinements being under Louis X1IV., Louis XV., and the Regent. During the first of those reigns, indeed, cookery was in honour, not only with princes, but with such states- men as Colbert, such soldiers as the great Condé and such persons of wit and culture as Madame de Sévigné. Many readers of that writer's inimitable letters will recall a graphic picture she gives of the importance attached to the office and character of a X BRILLAT-SAVARIN. maitre d’hotel like Vatel, not only by himself or Condé his master, but in the eyes of courtiers, princes, and even the king. She surrounds the death of Vatel with almost as much of the heroic as that of Turenne. Becoming more refined and also more popular under Louis XV., as our author himself tells under the heading “ Philosophical History,” it was during the Regency, and by the systematic application of the chemistry of the period, that gastronomy first had any claim to rank as a science. Surviving the violence and social distractions of the Revolution and the First Empire, gastronomic art acquired new vigour in France after Waterloo, under the active patronage of Louis XVIII, and to the admiration of our appreciative author. No doubt this powerful reaction in favour of his favourite study, occurring during those last years of his life, first suggested to Savarin the propriety of setting down in order his thoughts and conclusiors upon an art which had become so important that Lady Morgan, describing the France of that period, calls it “ the standard and gauge of modern civiliza- tion.” Savarin’s qualifications for this task are abundantly proved by his performance of it. His whole life was a preparation; and throughout his work we BRILLAT-SAVARIN. Xi find himself and his subject indissolubly welded together. All his varied experience, whether pro- fessional, political, or as a man of the world, is ran- sacked for illustrations, and every country he has visited is laid under contribution. Yet such is his artistic instinct, that there is no personal allusion but fits in naturally with the subject. The various threads of individuality are so interwoven with the general tissue, that the result is a complete and har- monious whole. ~ His native place was the small town Belley, in the Rhone valley at the foot of the Alps; and there are many illustrations drawn from that country or its people. Other recollections suitable to his sub- ject are derived from his escape to Switzerland during the Reign of Terror, as well as from an adventurous journey previously made to secure a “safe-conduct.” The latter occasion brought his Epicurean nature into strong relief; for although his head was at stake, he not only “snatched a fearful joy ” by making a hearty dinner with some chance companions at a country-inn, and singing them a song made for the occasion, but spent the evening with enthusiastic delight in the company of the dread representative who had just refused the all-important document. Other allusions are to Holland, to London (including, of course, Leicester x1 BRILLAT-SAVARIN. Square) and the English, and more frequently and fully to the United States. Paris, however, naturally outweighs all the rest; like a true Frenchman, the brilliant capital is for him everything—the world in little. Again, his professional and social position amply provided Savarin with opportunities of studying French gastronomy. His family had for generations been barristers and magistrates, and he himself com- menced life as an advocate with such distinction that, at the age of thirty-four, in 1789, he was elected one of the members of the Constituent Assembly. After sharing in the legislative labours of that historical body, he became successively President of the Civil Tribunal of the Department de I’Ain, and one of the judges of the important Cour de Cassation, then newly instituted. This last high office he filled so worthily that, after the Reign of Terror and an exile of three years, spent principally in the United States of America, he was again made judge in that court, and continued so, under the Directory, the Consulate, the Empire, and the Restoration, until his death in 1826. Thus we find Savarin sitting at banquets given by the highest functionaries—witness his picture of the awful effects of unpunctuality at the house of Cambacéres, where he was invited to dinner—a BRILLAT-SAVARIN. Xtll table of such importance that Napoleon utilized it for State purposes. Savarin also refers to Talleyrand as a worthy gastronome; and en revanche one of the few personal traits of Savarin not told by himself is due to that distinguished friend. The story is, moreover, valuable as a proof of the hereditary quality of taste and genius. Savarin, halting one day at Sens, when on his way to Lyons, sent, according to his invariable custom, for the cook, and asked what he could have for dinner. * Little enough,” was the reply. “But let us see,” retorted Savarin; “let us go into the kitchen and talk the matter over.” There he found four turkeys roasting. “Why!” exclaimed he, “you told me you had nothing in the house! let me have one of these turkeys.” “Impossible!” said the cook; “they are all bespoken by a gentleman upstairs.” “He must have a large party to dine with him, then?” “No; he dines by himself.” “Indeed!” said the gastronome ; “I should like much to be acquainted with the man who orders four turkeys for his own eating.” The cook was sure the gentleman would be glad of his acquaintance ; and Savarin, on going to pay his respects to the stranger, found him to be no other than his own son. “What! you rascal! four turkeys all to yourself!” “Yes, sir,” said ‘Savarin junior; “you know that when we have a xiv BRILLAT-SAVARIN. turkey at home you always reserve for yourself the parson’s nose: I was resolved to regale myself for once in my life; and here I am, ready to begin, although I did not expect the honour of your company.” * The “ Physiologie du Gotit ” was published within a year of Savarin’s death, yet he was gratified by seeing his work crowned with extraordinary success, speedily becoming (to use a phrase of Balzac’s) the veritable decalogue of gastronomers—irrefragable as the laws of Kepler. Its success is certainly largely due to the beauty of the style, and to the original yet charming manner of the author. There are not only the clearness and elegance and felicity which-are impressed on all good French writing, but his style is also so cheerful and picturesque that it positively smiles; one comic charm being the grand importance which he affects to attach to his subject. Had Savarin lived and written in the country of Walton’s “ Angler,” or White's “ Selbourne,” “the Physiologie du Gott” would certainly have again and again pleasantly occupied the learned leisure of admiring commentators, and given occasion for many ingenious notes and ex- haustive illustrations, biographical and antiquarian # A similar story is told of La Reynitre, a celebrated gastronome of the last century.—(See Littré, under Sor.) BRILLAT-SAVARIN, XV as well as gastrological. The French, however, do not distinguish their favourite authors in the same way ; nor does there appear to be any French edition of the « Physiologie du Gott” with notes. The present attempt to present Brillat-Savarin in English dress is due to a statement made last year in “ Notes and Queries,” to the effect that a trans- lation was and had long been a decided want in English libraries. The notes inserted here and there by the translator will be easily distinguished from those of the French text—either intrinsically or by the latter being always marked by single inverted commas. RE A. August 16th, 1876. DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND.* Friend. This morning, at breakfast, my wife and I have in our wisdom decided that your “Thoughts on Gastronomy” must be printed as soon as possible. Author. What woman wills, God wills. In that single sentence is summed up all the ethics of the Parisians. But I am under a different jurisdiction; and a bachelor IF. Good heavens! The bachelors are as much under the rule as other men, as we know sometimes * This conversation is by no means merely imaginary. So real, indeed, is the character of the friend, that his “ biography,” oc- cupying several pages, was originally appended to this dialogue. It is now omitted, as being decidedly a hors d’euvre too many. xviii DIALOGUE. only too well! But in this case you can’t get off on the score of bachelorship ; for my wife declares that she can insist upon it, because it was while visiting her in the country that you wrote the first pages of your book. A. My dear fellow, you know very well how I respect the ladies ; more than once you have praised my submission to their commands, and, like some others, you used to say I should make an excellent husband. Yet, for all that, I shall not get it printed. IF. And why? A. Because, after a professional life of earnest work, I am afraid of being thought a mere trifler by people reading only the title of my book. F. How absurd! As if thirty-six years of public and uninterrupted duties had not established for you a character quite the opposite! Besides, we believe, my wife and I, that everybody will wish to read you. A. Really? EF. The learned will read you in order to discover what you have always been hinting at. A. That is quite possible. F. The women will read you because they will easily see that—— DIALOGUE. Xix A. Spare my feelings, my dear friend; I am now old and full of wisdom. F. Men fond of good living will read you, because you do them justice, and so their proper rank in society is at last assigned to them. A. In that instance you are certainly right. Who would believe that those honest gentlemen could have been so long misunderstood! I look upon them with all the feelings of a father—such hand- some, bright-eyed fellows! F. Besides, have you not often told us that such a work as yours was needed in our libraries ? A. I have said so, and it is the fact. I will not swerve a jot from that opinion, but stick to it like a mastiff. F. Why, you talk like a man whose mind is quite made up; so let us go together and see A. No, no! If authorship has its pleasures, it has also its thorns ; and I leave the whole bagines, as a legacy, to my heirs, F. But, in the mean time, you wrong your friends, acquaintances, and contemporaries. Do you mean to say you can do such a thing? A. My heirs! you forget them! I have heard say that the shades of the departed generally derive pleasure from the praises of the living. It isa sort %X DIALOGUE. of beatitude that I wish to keep in store for the other world. F. But what certainty have you that those praises will be bestowed in the proper quarter? Are you certain of the care and diligence of your heirs ? A. Well, I have no grounds for thinking that they would neglect this one duty, since on account of it they will be excused many others. F. Would they, could they, have for your book that father’s affection, those author’s attentions, without which a work always makes its first public appearance awkwardly ? A. T shall leave the manuseript corrected, fairly copied out, and fully equipped, with nothing to do but print it. F. What about the chapter of accidents? ’Tis arrangements of that sort, alas! that have ruined many valuable works; such as that of the dis- tinguished Le Cat, on the “ State of the Soul during Sleep ”—the labour of a lifetime. A. That certainly was a great loss, and I by no means hope to occasion similar regrets. F. Be sure of this—that, in settling matters with the Church, the lawyers, the faculty, and with each other, heirs have quite enough on their hands; and DIALOGUE. xxi that there would not be time, even if there were the inclination, to give full attention to all the manifold details connected with the publication of even a small book. A. But the title! The subject! And what about ill-natured wags of critics? F. At the single word “gastronomy” every one pricks up his ears : it is quite the rage. And as for the waggish critics, they are as fond of good living as other men. So set your mind perfectly at ease. Besides, you surely know that personages of the greatest weight have sometimes produced light and amusing works. Montesquieu is an instance. A. (eagerly). Upon my word, you are right! He wrote the “Temple of Gnidus”; and there would surely be more real advantage in the study of that which is every day the want, the pleasure, and the occupation of man, than in telling us what was done or said, more than two thousand years ago, by two youngsters chasing each other through Grecian groves. F. You give in, then, at last? ; A. Igivein! Not at all. What you have heard is but a touch of nature betraying the author ;* * Perhaps the original phrase here, “to show the tips of his ears,” is worth noting. It is curiously borrowed from the fable of the ass in the lion’s skin, thus meaning, to betray uninten- tionally one’s mind or disposition by some word or action. xxii DIALOGUE. which recalls to my mind a scene in an English comedy that once greatly amused me. It occurs in a piece called “The Natural Daughter,” I think, and I should like to have your opinion upon it. Some Quakers are introduced ; a class of men who, as you know, of course, “thee” and “thou” every- body, wear clothes of the simplest kind, never serve as soldiers, never swear—even in a court of law,—do everything with a dull gravity, and in particular must never put themselves in a passion. Well, the hero of the piece is a handsome young Quaker, who, in spite of the brown coat, large, broad-brimmed hat, and straight hair with which he appears on the stage, falls deeply in love. Accordingly, a puppy of a rival takes courage from that appearance and demeanour, and so makes fun of him and insults him, that the young man, getting gradually heated with anger, at last becomes furious, and gives the coxcomb a thorough thrashing. That punishment bestowed, he instantly recovers his former demeanour, and collects himself, exclaim- ing in a penitential tone, “ Alas! thou seest that the flesh has prevailed over the spirit.” I now do as he did; and, after a display of pardonable feeling, come back to my former opinion. F. It is too late now. As you yourself admit, you have betrayed your real mind on the matter. I DIALOGUE. XXxiit have now a hold upon you, and you must come off to the publishers’. I may even tell you that the secret of your book has not been kept by all who knew it. ; 4. Don’t be too rash, my dear boy, for I shall have something to say about yourself; and who knows what that may be ? F. What could you say on that topic? You needn’t think you can frighten me. 4. I shall not tell how our common * native-place boasts of having given you birth; nor how, at twenty-four, you published a work which has since held a place in the foremost rank; nor how, by a well-deserved reputation, you now command the confidence of all; how your patients take courage from your manner, admire your skill, and are con- soled by your sympathy. I shall not tell what everybody knows, but I shall discover to all Paris (rising up), to all France (throwing his head back), to the whole world, the only fault in you which I know of! F. (seriously). Which fault, if you please ? * ¢Belley, the chief town of Bugey, a lovely country, with mountains and hillocks, rivers and limpid brooks, waterfalls and deep pools; a regular jardin anglais of a hundred square leagues in size. In this country, before the Revolution, the constitution of society was such that the third estate was really the governing class. XX1V DIALOGUE. A. An habitual fault, which all my exhortations have failed to correct. : F. (alarmed). Name it at once. It is too bad to torture one so. : A. You eat too fast! [On this, the friend takes his hat and leaves the room smiling, with a strong suspicion that he has made a convert and gained his purpose.] PREFACE. Tor the publication of the work now entrusted to the reader’s good will, there was needed on my part no great labour. All I have done was to arrange a collection of materials made long ago. It was a pastime which I had been keeping in store for my old age. Whilst considering the pleasures of the table from every point of view, I soon saw that there was something better to be made of the subject than a mere cookery-book, and that there was much to be said upon functions which are not only vital and constant, but exercise a very direct influence upon our health, our happiness, and even our success in life. As soon as this leading idea was clearly fixed in my mind, all the rest flowed easily from it. I looked about me—I took notes; and often in the midst of xxvi PREFACE. the most sumptuous banquets I should have felt bored but for my amusement as an observer. To complete the task which I had taken on my- self, one must have been physician, chemist, physio- logist, and even somewhat of a scholar. Those different subjects, however, I had studied without the slightest intention of becoming an author, being urged on by a praiseworthy curiosity, by the fear of being left behind the age, and by the wish to be able to converse on equal terms with men of science and learning, in whose company I have always taken a special pleasure.* More particularly, I am an amateur doctor. It is quite a passion with me; and amongst the finest days of my life I reckon that on which I entered with the professors, and by their door, into the lecture-room where the prize essay was to be read, and had the pleasure of hearing a murmur of curiosity run through the audience, each student asking his neighbour what mighty professor the stranger might be who was honouring the assembly by his presence. * ¢¢ Come and dine with me next Thursday,” said M. Greffuble to me one day, “and I'll have a party of men of science or men of letters; which do you choose 2” ¢«“ My choice is made,” said I, “we shall dine together twice instead of once.” ‘We did so, sure enough; and the literary dinner was unmis- takably more refined and well-ordered.’ PREFACE. XXVil There is, however, one other day the memory of which is equally dear; that, namely, on which I presented to the Council of the “Society for the Encouragement of National Industry” my “irrorator,” an instrument of my invention, which is simply a compression-fountain, adapted for the purpose of perfuming rooms. I had brought, in my pocket, my machine fully charged. I turned the cock, and there escaped, with a hissing sound, a perfumed vapour, which, rising to the ceiling, fell in tiny drops upon the persons and papers beneath. It was then that, with inexpressible delight, I saw the most learned heads of the capital bend under my “irroration,” and I was in ecstacies on observing that the wettest were the happiest. Occasionally, in thinking of the weighty lucubra- tions to which the extent of my subject has drawn me, I have had an honest fear lest I might bore the reader ; for I myself have sometimes yawned over other people’s books. I have done everything in my power to avoid blame cn this score. I have touched but lightly on the subjects likely to be dull; I have scattered anecdotes over the book—some drawn from my per- sonal experience ; I have thrown aside a great many singular facts, “rom a regard to sound criticism. I XXViil PREFACE. have aroused attention by giving a clear and simple account of certain scientific truths which the learned seemed to have reserved for themselves. If, in spite of so many efforts, my readers should still find the science difficult of digestion, my peace of mind will not be in the slightest degree disturbed, because I am sure that the majority will acquit me as to intention. I might also be charged with letting my pen run on too fast, and becoming somewhat garrulous in my stories. Is it my fault that I am an old man? Is it my fault that I am like Ulysses, who had seen the manners and cities of many peoples? Am I to blame for giving a little of my biography? In a word, the reader ought to give me credit for making him a present of my “Memoirs as a Public Man,” which deserve to be read quite as much as so many others, since for thirty-six years I have had the best opportunity of watching society and the course of events. Above all things, let no one rank me amongst the compilers. Before being reduced to such straits, my pen would have been thrown aside, and I should have lived quite as happily. Like Juvenal, I have said : Semper ego auditor tantum ! nunquam ne reponam! and those able to judge will easily see that, after PREFACE. XXiX being familiar both with the turmoil of city life and the silence of the study, the best thing I could do was to make the most of both positions. After all, there is much of the book which has been written for my own gratification. I have men- tioned some of my friends who scarcely expected such a thing; I have recalled several pleasant recollections, and noted down much that would otherwise have been forgotten. In a word, I have given full vent to my humour. Amongst those readers who are fond of lengthen- ing out a story, there will probably be one to exclaim, “TY should like much to know if——" or « What does he mean by saying that——,” and so forth. But the rest, I am confident, will tell him to hold his tongue; and every such expression of natural feeling will be kindly received by an immense majority of my readers. I have still something to say about my style, for, to quote Buffon, “ As the style is, so is the man.” And let no one think I am about to ask a favour, never granted to those who need it: I only mean to make a simple explanation. I ought to write admirably, for my favourite authors have been Voltaire, Jean-Jacques, Fénélon, Buffon, and, more recently, Cochin and Aguesseau, and I know them by heart. The gods, however, XXX PREFACE, may have ordained otherwise ; and if so, the follow- ing reasons explain that will of the gods. Knowing five living languages well, or tolerably, I possess a huge repertory of words of all com- plexions; and whenever an expression is needed, if I don’t find it in the French pigeon-hole, I take it out of one of the others. Hence the necessity for my reader of either translating or guessing; the Fates leave him no alternative. I am firmly persuaded that the French vocabu- lary is comparatively poor. What, then, was left for me to do? To borrow or steal. I have done both; because such loans need not be paid back, and stealing words is not punishable by law.* I fully expect that the stern critics will loudly appeal to Bossuet, IFénélon, Racine, Boileau, Pascal and others of our masters in style. I fancy I al- ready hear their frightful din, and therefore give them my reply, calmly, that I am far from denying the merit of those authors, whether named or re- ferred to; but, what then? The only inference is, that having done good work with indifferent tools, * Some of the words borrowed or stolen by Savarin are siroter (to match our word “to sip,” he says), trufivore, dindinophile, obesi- gene, s'indigerer, voyage polymatique, and others—all due to his love of the graphic and picturesque. Similarly, he sometimes Gallicizes a foreign phrase; as, mauvais cote de cinquante ans, from the English “ wrong side fifty.” PREFACE. : XXXI1 they would have done incomparably better with good tools. In the same way everybody believes ~ that Tartini would have played the violin still better had his bow been as long as that of Baillot. I must be classed, then, with the writers who employ new words, if not even with those who throw off all allegiance to classical style. and models.* The latter discover hidden treasures, while the others are like sailors, who bring from afar the provisions which we need. The Northern races, especially the English, have in this respect an immense advantage over us. The genius of their language is never hampered by rules of style; it creates or borrows. Accordingly, %* The term, un romantique, according to the French philo- logists, was introduced by Madame de Staél, all modern writers being by her divided into two classes: —les classiques, who follow the models already established, and les romantiques, who act independently of classical style and standards. Thus, in recent times, Victor Hugo is pre-eminently un romantique —not only ignoring the dramatic unities and other canons sacred to Corneille and Voltaire, but actually and enthusiastically admiring such a barbarian as Shakespeare. The same terms have also been used in classifying the great masters in French gastronomy ; Beauvilliers, for example (after- wards referred to fully in the chapter on restaurants), being ranked at the head of the classical school. This implied analogy between cookery and literature may remind the philosophical reader of a passage in one of Dugald Stewart’s * Essays,” where the effects of “sweet” and “ bitter” in gastronomic art are said to “ correspond to that composite beauty which it is the object of tho painter and of the poet to create.” XXXI11 PREFACE. in all subjects treated with depth and energy, our translations are mere copies, without colour and expression. I remember once hearing, at the Institute, a well written discourse to show the danger of using new words, and the necessity of holding fast by the language fixed for us by the writers of the classical age. As a chemist, I tested this philosopher’s stone by my retort, with the following result: “ We have done so well, that it is impossible to do better, or to do otherwise.” Now, I have lived long enough to know that each generation says the same thing, and is laughed at for its pains by the generation following. Besides, why should words not change, when manners and opinions are constantly undergoing modifications ? Even if we do the same things as the ancients did, we do them in a different manner; and in some modern books there are whole pages which could be translated into neither Latin nor Greek. All the languages have their birth, their culmina- tion, and their decline ; and of those that have shone since the time of Sesostris to that of Philip Augus- tus, not one exists as a living tongue. The French language will have the same fate; and in the year 2825, I shall be read only with the assistance of a dictionary, if indeed I be read at all. PREFACE. XXXI1it I conclude the preface by a remark which, on account of its importance, I have been reserving. When I say “I” or “me” it shows I am talking familiarly, and the reader is at liberty to examine, dispute, doubt, or even laugh; but when I arm my- self with the terrible “ we,” it is to speak authorita- tively, ex cathedrd, and the reader has no choice but submission. “T am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips let no dog bark.” SHAKESPEARE. FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS OF THE SCIENCE. But for life the universe were nothing, and all that has life requires nourishment. 1, Animals feed, man eats; the man of sense and cul- ture alone understands eating. TT. The fate of nations depends upon how they are fed. TV. Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what yow are. XXXVI FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS. V. In compelling man to eat that he may live, Nature gives appetite to invite him, and pleasure to reward him. Vi. Good living is due to that action of the judgment by which the things which please our taste are preferred to all others. Yi. The pleasures of the table are common to all ages and ranks, to all countries and times; they not only harmonize with all the other pleasures, but remain to console us for their loss. VIII It is only at table that a man never feels bored during the first hour. IX. The discovery of a new dish does more for the happi- ness of the human race than the discovery of a planet. X. A drunkard knows not how to drink, and he who eats too much, or too quickly, knows not how to eat. FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS. XXX Vil Xl In eating, the order is from the more substantial to the lighter. XIL In drinking, the order is from the milder to that which is stronger and of finer flavour. XH To maintain that a man must not change his wine is a heresy: the palate becomes cloyed, and, after three or four glasses, it is but a deadened sensation that even the best wine provokes. XIV. A last course at dinner, wanting cheese, is like a pretty woman with only one eye. XY. Cookery is an art, but to roast requires genius. XVI In a cook, the most essential quality is punctuality ; it should be also that of the guest. XVI, It is a breach of politeness towards those guests who are punctual when they are kept long waiting for one who is late. XXXV1ii FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS. Xv. He who receives friends without himself bestowing some pains upon the repast prepared for them, does not deserve to have friends. XIX, As the coffee after dinner is the special care of the lady of the house, so the host must see that the liqueurs are the choicest possible. XX. To receive any one as our guest is to become respon- sible for his happiness during the whole of the time he is under our roof, GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. L ON THE SENSES. THE senses are the organs by which man and the outer world are brought into communication. The number of the senses is at least five.” Sight embraces space, and through the Number medium of light informs us of the exist- and . definition. ence and colours of surrounding bodies. The sense of hearing receives, through the medium of the air, the vibrations of noisy or sonorous bodies. By the sense of smell we perceive that property of substances which is called their odour. By the * The number of the senses has been frequently discussed by psychologists. Thus, Littré, one of Comte’s principal followers, and no mean authority, says that “sixth sense ” is a term applied, “aux sensations de Uamour physique” Kant, also, speaks of a sensug vagus, as something not localized, or without special organs; which would increase the number to seven. B . * » 1112000" GABTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. sense of taste we appreciate whatever is sapid or eatable. The sense of touch informs us about the surfaces of bodies and their consistence. The genetic, or generative, sense has for its object the reproduction of the species. It is astonishing that the last of these should not have been recognized before the time of Buffon; being either confounded with the sense of touch, or regarded as a mere adjunct or modification of it. But, as for the preservation of the individual there is one sense—taste, so the other is as cer- tainly a sense appropriated to the preservation of the species. If in imagination we travel back to the earliest ha period of human existence, we shall infer senses in that at first man’s sensations were simply ik direct, being uncorrected by reflection; that is to say, that he saw without precision, heard confusedly, smelt without discernment, ate without appreciation, and, in his enjoyments generally, lived as a mere animal. But, all our perceptions having as their common centre the soul—the special attribute of the human race, and ever tending to greater perfection—they are there subjected to reflection, comparison, judg- ment; and soon the various sensations are ali summoned to each other’s aid for the use and well- ON THE SENSES. 3 being of the “percipient Ego,” or person whose senses are acted upon. Thus, touch corrected the errors of sight; the hearing, by means of the spoken word, became the interpreter of what man thought ; taste was assisted by sight and smell; and hearing compared sounds and measured distances. The stream of time, rolling over successive generations of men, has incessantly brought new improvements; and this tendency to perfection, so real though unobserved, is due to the action of the senses, and their constant demand for healthy exercise. Thus, sight has given birth to painting, sculpture, and every kind of show or pageant; hearing, to melody, harmony, dancing, and all that is connected with music; smell, to the search and observation of perfumes, their use and culture; the sense of taste, to the production, selection, and preparation of every kind of food; the sense of touch, to all the arts, all the skilful trades, and all the industries; the genetic sense, to romantic love, flirtation, and fashion, to all that adorns the relations between man and woman or aesthetically improves their union. Such, then, are the origin and growth of the arts and sciences, even the most abstract ; they are 4 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. produced directly by the natural demand of the senses to be kept in constant play and exercise. Those senses, so dear to us, are, nevertheless, far from being perfect, and I need not stay to The a senses be- Prove it. I shall only note how sight, that as sense so ethereal, and touch, which is at the other end of the scale, have with time both gained additional powers in a wonderful degree. Thus, the weakness of old age, which affects most of the senses, is, in the case of sight, almost entirely remedied by the use of glasses. The telescope has discovered stars formerly un- known, because inaccessible to unaided vision; and the microscope has led man to see, for the first time, the composition and constitution of sub- stances, showing us plants and a mode of growth whose very existence were previously unsuspected. Some animalcules are shown which are the one- hundred-thousandth part of the smallest creature visible to the naked eye; yet they move about, feed, and reproduce, proving that there are organs so minute that the imagination can form no con- ception of them. Again, the mechanical powers and appliances have multiplied. Man has realized even the boldest conceptions, and performed tasks of engineering which to his merely natural powers were utterly ON THE SENSES. 5 unapproachable. by skill and mechanism, man has subdued all nature, making it subservient to all his wants, his pleasures, and his caprices, and changing the whole surface of the globe. Thus a feeble biped is become king of all creation. Senses of sight and touch of such enlarged powers might rank among the attributes of a race much superior to man; or rather, were all our senses improved in like proportion, mankind would be quite a different species. It should be noted, however, that although the sense of touch has developed enormously as a muscular power, yet, as a sensitive organ, scarcely anything has been done for it by advancing civiliza- tion. But we must not despair, remembering that the human race is still young, and that it is only after a long series of ages that the senses can enlarge their sphere of action. Thus, it is only about four centuries since men discovered harmony, a science all divine, bearing to sounds the same relation as painting does to colours. No doubt the ancients sung airs and melodies with musical accompaniments, but their knowledge went no #* ¢If the ancients understood harmony, their writings would have preserved some more certain proof than a few vague phrases. It is to the Arabs we are indebted for it, since they first gave us the organ, which, by sounding several notes at once, suggested the idea of concords and harmonies.” 6 ‘GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. further ; they could neither analyse the notes nor find their relations to each other. It was not till the fifteenth century that the laws of tone, and rules for the movement of concords were ascertained. Then, accordingly, musicians first made use of theory to sustain the parts and improve the expression. That discovery, so late and yet so natural, showed the duality of the sense of hearing ; that in one organ there are two facul- ties, to some extent independent of each other—the one perceiving the sound of the notes, the other estimating their resonance or length. Some German doctors say that the perception of harmony consti- tutes an additional sense. As to those for whom music is only a confused mass of sounds, it should be observed that they nearly all sing out of tune; and they must have either the ears so formed as to receive only short, abrupt vibrations, or one ear attuned to a different key from the other, and therefore jointly transmit- ting to the brain only a vague and ill-defined sensa- tion—just as two instruments which agree neither in time nor tune are incapable of together sounding harmoniously. During these last ages, the sense of taste has also largely extended its sphere of influence; and by the discovery of sugar and its various preparations, of ON THE SENSES. 7 alcoholic liquors, of ices, vanilla, tea, and coffee, we have a knowledge of tastes and flavours which were previously unknown. Who can say that the sense of touch will not have its turn, and that some happy chance may not in this quarter also disclose to us a source of new modes of enjoyment? What makes it the more probable is, that the tactile sensibility is confined to no special part, and can therefore be acted upon throughout the whole body. In one respect, taste resembles the ‘genetic sense. As two main factors in man’s Sense of nature, their influence is seen throughout taste; its all the fine arts, and almost everywhere Ron where delicacy and refinement come into play. The faculty of taste is, however, more under restraint, although quite as active, and has advanced so gradually, yet steadily, as to make certain that its success is lasting. Elsewhere, we shall consider that advancement; but, meantime, we may observe that if any man has” sat at a sumptuous dinner in a hall adorned with mirrors, paintings, sculptures, flowers, scented with perfumes, enriched with beautiful women, and filled, with notes of gentle music, he will feel convinced, without any great mental effort, that, to enhance the pleasures of the sense of taste and give them 8 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. their proper surroundings, all the arts have been laid under contribution. Let us now cast a general glance over the senses, considered as one system, and we shall Result % oy see that they are intended by the Creator by the for two ends, one the consequence of the senses. other; to wit, the preservation of the in. dividual and the continuation of the species. Such is the destiny of man, considered as a being endowed with senses: everything he does has some reference to that twofold object of nature. The eye perceives outward objects, discovers the wonders with which man is surrounded, and teaches him that he is a part of a mighty whole. By hearing, we perceive not only those sounds which are agreeable to the sense, but others which warn us of danger. Touch is on the watch to inform us at once, by means of pain, of every hurt. The hand, like a faithful servant, never uncertain in his move- ments, instinctively chooses what is necessary to repair the losses caused by the maintenance of the vital functions. Smell is used as a test of whole- someness, since poisonous bedies have almost in- variably an unpleasant odour. Then the semse of taste is called into exercise, and the teeth, tongue, and palate being put to use, the stomach presently begins the great work of assimilation. During that ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 9 process, a vague languor is felt, objects are seen less vividly, the body takes an easy position, the eyes close, every sensation vanishes, and the senses are in a state of absolute repose. Such are the general and philosophical views which I have thought right to lay before my readers, to prepare them for the more special ex- amination of the organ of the sense of taste. IL, ON THE SENSE OF TASTE, TASTE is that sense which, by means of a special organ, brings man into contact with sapid [ .. substances. After being stimulated by the of this appetite, hunger and thirst, this sensation, oe when combined with several subordinate operations, results in the growth, development, and preser- vation of the individual, at the same time making good the losses due to the vital functions. All organized bodies are not nourished in the same manner; for Nature, being as varied in methods as she is certain of results, has assigned to them different modes of prolonging existence. Thus, vegetables, at the bottom of the scale of 10 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. living beings, are fed by means of roots, which, sinking into the native soil, select, by a special apparatus, the different substances suited for the purposes of growth and preservation. Rising higher, we discover bodies endowed with animal life, but without the power of locomotion. Born with favourable surroundings, they are pro- vided with the special organs necessary to maintain that mode of existence. Instead of seeking for their food, the food comes to find them. For animals who move from place to place, Nature has appointed quite a different means of preservation, and especially for man, who is incon- testably the most perfect. A special instinct tells him when he requires to be fed; he looks for and seizes whatever seems likely to appease his wants; he eats, and becoming restored, thus runs through the destined career of life. Taste can be considered under three aspects: in man, physically, as the mechanism by which he appreciates the sapid quality or flavour of substances; in man, morally, as the mental perception due to the sensation or impression made on the organ; and lastly, in the external body, or objectively, as the material property to which we ascribe the sensation or impression made on the organ. This sense seems to have two principal uses. First, ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 11 it invites us, by the pleasure, to repair the losses which we constantly suffer from the action of life. Secondly, amongst the different substances pre- sented to us by nature, taste assists us to choose those which are fit to serve for food. In making this choice, we are greatly assisted by the sense of smell, as we shall see further on; for, as a general rule, nutritive substances are repulsive neither to the sense of taste, nor that of smell. It is not easy to determine precisely what parts constitute the organ of taste. It is ppechan- more complicated than at first sight ap- ism of the pears. organ. The tongue, of course, plays an important part in the action of tasting, since it is by it that the food is moistened, turned about, and swallowed. More- over, by means of the papille scattered over its sur- face, it drinks in the sapid and soluble particles of those bodies with which it comes in contact. That, however, being insufficient, several adjacent parts assist in completing this sensation: to wit, the palate, the sides of the mouth, and especially the nasal passage—a part to which physiologists have not directed sufficient attention. From the sides of the mouth is supplied the saliva, necessary for mastication and deglutition; and they, as well as the palate, assist in the appreciative faculty of 32 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. taste. It is probable that, in certain cases, the gums have a slight share in the tasting sensation; and without a certain appreciation of flavour at the root of the tongue, the sensation of taste would be deadened and imperfect. Those who are born without a tongue, or have had it cut out, still retain the sense of taste. Of the former case, there are instances in the books written on such matters; and the latter was explained to me by a poor fellow whose tongue had been cut out by the Algerians, because, with some of his com- panions in captivity, he had formed a plan for escaping and running away. This man, whom I had met in Amsterdam, where he gained a living by running errands, had had some education, and it was easy to converse with him by means of writing. After noticing that all the fore part of his tongue was removed down to the ligament, I asked if, after undergoing so cruel an operation, there still re- mained a flavour in what he ate, or any sensa- tion of taste. He replied that what he found most difficult was to swallow; that his sense of taste remained pretty well the same, and that he could tell, like other men, what had little taste and what was pleasant, but that strong acids, or anything very bitter, caused him intolerable pain. I also learned from him, that in some African ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. © 13 kingdoms it was a common thing to cut out the tongue, especially as a punishment for the ring- leaders of conspiracies. He said, also, that there were special instruments for the purpose, which I wished him to describe; but the repugnance he showed was so painful that I did not press him. Reflecting on what he told me, and going back to those dark ages when the tongues of blasphemers were pierced or cut out, I became convinced that such a custom of law must have been of African origin, imported to Kurope by the Crusaders. We have seen above that the sensation of taste resides principally in the papillee of the tongue. But by anatomy we learn that these are so unequally supplied, that one tongue may have thrice as many as another. Hence one explanation why, of two guests seated at the same banquet, one has delicious sensations, whilst the other seems to eat only be- cause compelled ; the reason being that the latter has a tongue only poorly furnished for enjoyment. Thus the empire of taste also has its blind men and its deaf. There have been broached five or six opinions as to the operation of the sensation of taste. g. cation I have also mine, and it is as follows: of taste. the sensation of taste is a chemical result obtained, as we have already said, through moisture; that is 14 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. to say, the sapid molecules must be dissolved in some fluid, that they may be absorbed by the minute tufts of nerves, papille or suckers, which cover the surfaces of the organ. Whether new or not, this theory rests upon physical facts which are almost self-evident. Pure water causes no sensation of taste, because it con- tains no sapid particles: dissolve in it a grain of salt or a few drops of vinegar, the sensation imme- diately takes place. Other drinks, again, affect the sense because they are nothing but solutions more or less charged with molecules that can be tasted. Then, by an insoluble body, even if the mouth were filled with its particles minutely divided, the sense of touch alone would be affected, and that of taste not at all. As to solid bodies which have taste, they must be comminuted by the teeth, impregnated with the saliva and other gustatory juices, and pressed against the palate by the tongue till the juice so yielded makes a favourable impression upon the gus- tatory papille, and the triturated body receives from them the passport necessary to enter the stomach. My theory, which is to be still further developed, gives an easy explanation of the principal diffi- culties. Thus, if you ask what is meant by a sapid body, I reply : It is one which is soluble and fit to ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 15 be absorbed by the organ of taste. If it is asked how a sapid body acts, the answer is: It acts when- ever it is so dissolved that it can enter those cavities whose function is to receive and transmit the sensa- tion of taste. In a word, nothing is sapid unless already dissolved or easily soluble. The number of tastes perceived in objects is infi- nite, since every soluble body has a special p1,vous flavour, in some respect differing from or tastes. all others. Flavours receive additional modifications of infinite variety, ranging from the most attractive to the most intolerable, from the strawberry to the colocynth ; and all attempts to classify them may be termed failures. Nor is this to be wondered at; for, granted that there are undetermined series of simple flavours which can be modified by combining them in any number and quantity, we should require a new language to express all these results, mountains of folio volumes to define them, and newly devised numerical characters to classify and number them. Since, up to the present time, no taste or flavour has, as a sensation, been rigorously defined, men are compelled to keep to a small number of general terms, such as “sweet,” “sugary,” “sour,” “bitter,” and so on; and, on further analysis, these can be classified under the two heads of “agreeable to the 16 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. taste,” or “disagreeable.” They suffice, however, to make one’s self understood, and indicate with tolerable exactness the gustatory properties of any sapid substances about which one is talking. Those who come after us will know more about such qualities, and it seems already certain that chemistry will discover to them the causes of flavours or their ultimate elements. Following my prescribed plan, I must now render Poste to the sense of smell its proper rights, affected and acknowledge the important services by smell. it vields in the perception of tastes or flavours; for, of all the writers that have come under my notice, none appear to have done it full and entire justice. For my own part, I am not only convinced that there is no complete perception of taste unless the sense of smell have a share in the sensation, but I am further tempted to believe that smell and taste form only one sense, having the mouth as laboratory with the nose for fire-place or chimney. More exactly, the one serves to taste solids, and the other gases. This theory can be supported by strict reasoning ; but as I have no intention of founding a sect, I merely launch it forth to make my readers reflect, and to show that I have looked closely into the ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 17 subject of my work. At present, I proceed to prove the importance of the sense of smell, if not as an integral part of that of taste, at least as a necessary assistant. Every sapid body is necessarily odorous, which gives it a place under the sway of one sense exactly as under that of the other. Nothing is eaten with- out being smelt more or less attentively ; and when any unknown food is presented, the nose always acts as sentinel of the advance guard, and calls out, “ Who goes there?” To intercept the smell is to paralyse the taste. This I prove by three experiments, which every- body can verify: first, when the mucous membrane of the nostrils is irritated by a severe cold in the head all sense of taste is obliterated, and no flavour is perceived in anything that is swallowed, though the tongue retains its normal condition ; second, if you hold your nose when eating, you will be surprised to find that the sensation of taste is extremely dull and imperfect: hence a means of getting down the most nauseous medicines almost without perceiving it; third, the same result is observed if the tongue is kept close to the palate at the moment of swallowing, instead of letting it resume its natural position; for the circulation of air being thus stopped, the sense of smell is not c 18 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. brought into play, and that of taste is therefore paralysed. These different results are due to the same cause —the absence of smell as a fellow-worker ; for thus the sapid body is sensible only by its juices, and not by the odorous gas which it exhales. These principles being thus established, I con- Anivh sider it is demonstrable that taste gives of the rise to sensations of three different orders: Ih direct, the complete, and the reflective. The direct sensation is the first perception, arising from the immediate operation of the organs of taste whilst the food is still on the point of the tongue. The complete, is when the first perception is combined with the sensation caused by the food reaching the back of the mouth, and by taste and smell acting upon the whole organ. The reflective sensation is the judgment passed by the mind upon the impressions conveyed to it by the organ. For an application of this theory, let us consider what takes place during eating and drinking. He who eats a peach, for example, is first agreeably struck by the odour which it yields; he puts it in his mouth, and experiences a sensation of freshness and acidity which induces him to continue; but it is only at the moment of swallowing, and when the flavour also reaches the olfactories, that the per- ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 19 fume is revealed which completes the full taste due to a peach. Finally, it is only when the fruit is swallowed that he forms an opinion of the sensa- tions, and says to himself, “That is a delicious morsel ! In the same way, in drinking wine there is a pleasant but still imperfect sensation so long as it is in the mouth: it is only when swallowed that we can really taste and appreciate the special flavour and bouquet of each variety, and a little time must elapse before the connoisseur can say, “It is good,” “middling,” or “bad;” “By Jovel ’is genuine Chambertin!” or “ Confound it! it is only Suréne !” In conformity with these principles, and result- ing from a well-understood experience, is that habit which all true connoisseurs have of sipping their wine ; for each time they swallow they have the sum total of the sensation enjoyed had they taken the whole glass at one draught. : ‘The same thing takes place, but more ener- getically, when the taste is unpleasant. Look at that patient, who is ordered by the faculty to take a black draught, such as our grandfathers- drank. That trusty adviser, the sense of smell, warns him against the repulsive flavour of the treacherous fluid ; his eyes stare as at the approach of danger; 20 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. disgust is on his lips; and already his stomach rises. Nevertheless, on being urged, he arms him- self with determination, gargles his throat with brandy, holds his nose, and drinks. Whilst the detestable beverage is in the mouth and in contact with the organ, the sensation is con- fused and the suspense intolerable; but as soon as the last drop is swallowed, the after-taste is felt, sickening flavours act, and the patient’s countenance, in every feature, expresses a horror and disgust such as no one dare encounter unless under the fear of death. With an insipid drink, on the contrary, there is neither taste nor after-taste ; no sensation is felt or reflection made : we merely drink. The sense of taste is not so richly endowed as that of hearing. The latter observes and compares Succession of the im- several sounds at the same time, whereas PIESSION®: the former cannot receive impressions from two flavours together. It may, however, have a second, or even a third, sensation successively, in the same way as a key-note in music is followed by others in concord, easily distinguished by the practised ear. The succeeding and weakened sensa- tion is termed an “ after-taste,” “bouquet,” etc. These secondary sensations are not perceived by those who eat hastily and carelessly, being the ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 27 exclusive appanage of a small number, the elect of the gastronomes, who thus are able to classify, in order of excellence, the different substances sub- ‘mitted to their examination. These fugitive shades of sensation thrill the organ of taste for some time ; and, without being aware of it, your real gastronome assumes the proper posture, always pronouncing his verdict with lengthened neck and a twist of the nose. Let us now cast a philosophic glance on the pleasures or annoyances caused by the semse of taste. First of all, we find here an instance of that, unhappily, too general truth, that man’s organiza- tion is more susceptible of pain than of pleasure. The introduction of anything extremely sour, acrid, or bitter, can excite sensations painful in the highest degree; and it is even maintained that hydrocyanic acid only kills quickly because it causes an agony so keen that the vital forces cannot endure it without succumbing. Agreeable sensations, on the contrary, run through only a limited scale ; and if there is a difference perceptible enough between hr the insipid and the palatable, there is no by ius very great interval between what is good and that which is considered excellent. As an 22 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. illustration, take the following: positive, hard- boiled beef; comparative, a piece of veal; super- lative, a roast pheasant, done to a turn. Nevertheless, of all the senses in their natural state, taste procures us the greatest number of enjoyments :— 1. Because the pleasure of eating, taken in moderation, is the only one that is not followed by fatigue. ~~ 2. Because it is common to every time, age, and condition. 3. Because it must return once, at least, every day, and may, during that space of time, be easily repeated two or three times. 4. Because it can combine with all our other pleasures, and even console us for their absence. 5. Because its sensations are at once more last- ing than others, and more subject to our will; and 6. Because we have a certain special but indefinable satisfaction, arising from the instine- tive knowledge that, by the very act of eating, we are making good our losses, and prolonging our existence. This will be found more fully developed in a future chapter, where the ¢ pleasures of the table” are treated from a modern point of view, especially as affected by the civilization of the nineteenth century. We have been brought up in the fond belief that, ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 25 of all the animals that walk, swim, climb, or fly, man has the sense of taste the most fire perfect. Now, however, there are threats macy of that this faith will be shaken, for Doctor ™*™ Gall maintains, as the result of some investigations, I know not what, that there are animals which have the “organs of taste more highly developed and more perfect than those of man. This doctrine of his sounds badly, and smacks of heresy. Man, by divine right king of all creation, and for whose benefit the earth was covered and peopled, must necessarily be provided with organs of taste which can adequately appreciate all that is sapid amongst his subjects. The tongue of animals is analogous to the reach of their intelligence. In fishes, it is only a movable bone; in birds, it is generally a membranous car- tilage; in quadrupeds, besides being frequently covered with scales or asperities, it has no power of circumflex movement. The tongue of man, on the contrary, by the deli- cacy of its structure, and of the different membranes which surround or lie near it, gives sufficient indica- tion of the high functions for which it is destined. Moreover, I have discovered three movements in it unknown to animals; and I distinguish them by the terms “spication,” “rotation,” and * verrition.” 24 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. The first occurs when the tongue is pressed in a conical shape between the lips; the second, when it moves circularly in the space bounded by the cheeks and palate; and the third, from the Latin verro, 1 sweep, when it bends back, either above or . below, to gather anything which remains in the semi-circular space outside the gums. Animals are limited in their tastes: one living only on vegetables; a second eating nothing but flesh; a third feeding exclusively on grain; and none of them know compound flavours. Man, on the contrary, is omnivorous; everything that is eatable is subject to his all-embracing appetite. Hence, as a necessary inference, his tasting powers must in extent and variety be proportionately great ; and, in fact, in man the mechanism of that particular organ is of a rare perfection. To be convinced of this, let us look at it in operation. : As soon as anything esculent enters the mouth, it is irretrievably confiscated, with all its juices and gases. The lips prevent it from returning, the teeth take hold of it and crush it, the saliva absorbs it, the tongue mixes it and turns it round, an aspira- tory compression forces it towards the gullet, the tongue rises to make it glide down—the sense of smell then taking note of it, and finally it falls into the stomach, to be there subjécted to further changes ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 25 of form. Yet, during all that operation, there is not a single portion, drop, or atom, that has escaped the testing and appreciating power of the organ. Another result of that organic perfection is that epicurism, or the art of Good Living, belongs to man exclusively. By a sort of contagion, however, it is transferred to those animals which are appropriated to man’s use and, in a certain sense, become his companions; such as the dog, the cat, the elephant and even the parrot. If some animals have the tongue larger, the palate more developed, and the gullet wider, it cannot be therefore inferred by any rules of sound logic that their sense of taste is more perfect; the tongue is larger because it has to act as a muscle to move large weights, the palate to press, and the gullet to swallow, larger portions. Besides, since taste should be judged by the perceptions it gives rise to, as already explained, any impression re- ceived by animals cannot be compared with that experienced by man ; the latter is of greater clear- ness and precision, and must therefore be of greater excellence. In a word, is it possible to desire any improve- ment in a faculty so refined that among the ancient Romans the epicures were wont, by taste alone, to tell if a fish had been caught above or below bridge ? 26 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Do we not see some of our own time who, in eating a partridge, can tell by its flavour which leg it has slept upon? And have we not amongst us connois- seurs who can tell under what latitude a wine has ripened, with as great a certainty as a disciple of Biot or Arago can predict an eclipse ? : ‘What, then, is the inference? That we must render to Cesar the things that are Caesar’s, by pro- claiming man the epicure of nature; and that we must not wonder that, like Homer, the worthy Doctor Gall sometimes nods: —— aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus. Up to the present point we have been investigat- Sorc ing the sense of taste only with reference of the to -its physical constitution, and, unless in AR. giving some anatomical details which few readers will object to, have kept to the level of strict science. But the task imposed on us does not end here, since it is from its history in a moral point of view that this restoring sense derives its importance and its glory. We have therefore arranged in logical order the body of theories and facts of which that history is composed, with the view of being instructive without being tiresome. Thus, in the chapters about to follow, we shall show how, by dint of repetition and reflection the ON THE SENSE OF TASTE. 29 sensations of taste have perfected their organ, and extended the sphere of its powers; how the desire for food, at first a mere instinct, has become a prevailing passion which has a marked influence on all that relates to our social life. We shall trace the operations of chemistry up to the moment when, entering our laboratories under- ground, she throws light upon our food-preparation, lays down principles, devises methods, and unveils the causes of what formerly lay hid in mystery. In short, we shall see how, by the combined influence of time and experience, there has appeared all at once a new science, which nourishes, restores, and preserves man, advises and consoles him, and, not satisfied with strewing flowers along his path with an ample hand, also increases powerfully the might and prosperity of empires. If, in the midst of such weighty disquisitions, a pointed or humorous story, a pleasant recollection, or some adventure from a life of many ups and downs should be on the tip of the pen, we shall let it drop, in order to relieve for a moment the atten- tion of our readers. For their number does not alarm us: we are fond, on the contrary, of having a chat with them; being certain that, if they are men, they are as indulgent as they are well-informed, and if ladies, that they cannot help being charming. 23 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. ny, ON GASTRONOMY. UNLIKE Minerva, who issued from the brain of ts Jupiter in full armour, the sciences are ofthe the daughters of Time, being matured im- sciences. perceptibly ; at first, by an accumulation of methods which experience has pointed out, and afterwards by the discovery of the laws derived from the combination of those methods. Thus, the first old men who, on account of their discretion, were sent for to visit invalids, or whom pity urged to bind up wounds, were also the first physicians. The Egyptian shepherds, who observed that after a period of time certain stars were to be found in a certain part of the heavens, were the first astronomers. He who first expressed by symbols the simple proposition, “two and two make four,” created mathematics, that science of such power that it has actually raised men to the throne of the universe. During the course of the last sixty years, several new sciences have taken rank amongst the various ON GASTRONOMY. | 29 branches of knowledge; for example, stereotomy,* descriptive geometry, and the chemistry of gaseous bodies. All the sciences, being developed through countless generations, will improve more and more with the greater certainty that, by the art of print- ing, they are for ever freed from the danger of retrograding. Thus, to mention only one instance, who can tell if, by a chemical knowledge of gaseous bodies, man may not obtain the mastery over those elements, now so refractory, and, by mixing and combining them in ways and proportions hitherto unattempted, obtain substances and results which will greatly extend the limits of his powers? Amongst the sciences, Gastronomy presented her- self in her turn, and all her sisters came Origin of near to show respect. What, indeed, could gastro- be refused to the science which sustains us "**" from the cradle to the grave, which enhances the pleasure of love and the intimacy of friendship, which disarms hatred, makes business easier, and affords us, during the short voyage of our lives, the only enjoyments that both relieve us from all fatigue and themselves entail none ? There is no doubt that, so long as cookery was # In the older French mathematical books, the term *stereo- metry” corresponds to our solid geometry ; and thus “ stereotomy ” relates to the sections of solids, including, of course, the conic sections, 30 GASTEONOMY AS A FINE ART. trusted exclusively to hired servants, the mysteries of -the craft confined to the lower regions, and nothing but books of directions written on the sub- ~ ject, the results were those of a mere art. At last, however, though perhaps too late, men of science no longer kept aloof. They examined, analysed, and classified the alimentary substances, and re- duced them to their simpler constituents. They fathomed the mysteries of assimilation, and tracing inert matter through its changes of form, saw how it became endowed with life. They have studied food in its effects, whether momentary or perma- nent, for days, for months, or even for a whole life- time. They have estimated even its influence upon the faculty of thought, whether the soul receives impressions from the senses, or can perceive without the concurrence of those organs. Finally, as the result of all these labours, they have formed a grand generalization, embracing all mankind, and all matter that is capable of assimilation. Whilst the men of science were thus employed in the study, the man of fashion began to exclaim that the science by which we are kept in life must surely ‘be worth more than that which teaches men to kill each other. Poets began to sing the pleasures of the table; and books on good cheer displayed greater insight and more comprehensive truths. ON GASTRONOMY. Ter Such were the circumstances preceding the ad- vent of gastronomy. : Gastronomy is the scientific knowledge of all that relates to man as an eater. Its aim ig gofini- is, by means of the best possible food, to tom watch over the preservation of mankind, and it attains that end by laying down certain principles to direct in fhe search, supply, or preparation of alimentary substances. Thus to it, as the efficient cause, we must ascribe the labours of farmers, vine-growers, fishermen, huntsmen, and especially of cooks of every degree, whatever be the title or qualification under which they may disguise their occupation of preparing food. Gastronomy is related to natural history, by its classification of alimentary substances; to physics, by its investigation into their composition and properties; to chemistry, by the different forms of analysis and decomposition which it makes them undergo ; to cookery, by the art of dressing dishes, and rendering them agreeable to the taste; to com- merce and political economy, by seeking to buy and sell most advantageously, as well as by the returns which it brings into the public treasury, and the barter which it establishes between different nations Gastronomy rules every moment of our lives: for the first cry of the new-born child is a call for 32 , GASTRONOMY ABS A FINE ART. the nurse’s breast, and the dying man swallows still with some pleasure the last potion, which, alas! he will never digest. it has to do, also, with every class of society. It presides at the banquets of assembled kings, and also counts the minutes necessary for properly boiling an egg. The material subject which gastronomy treats of is everything that can be eaten; its immediate object is the preservation of the individual; and the means by which it effects its purpose are cultiva- tion to produce, commerce to exchange, industry to prepare, and experience to discover how every- thing can be best turned to account. Gastronomy considers the sense of taste in its pleasures as well as in its pains; it has Various : : . objects discovered the various degrees of its sus- of the ig ceptibility as a sensation, regulating their action, and fixing limits which a man of self-respect must never overstep. It also considers how food may influence the moral nature of man, his imagination, his mind, his reason, his courage and his perceptions, whether awake or asleep, whether in action or repose. It is gastronomy which determines precisely when each article of food is fit for use, for all are not presentable in the same circumstances. Some ON @GASTRONOMY. 33 should be taken before being fully developed—as capers, asparagus, sucking-pigs, pigeons, and other animals eaten young; others, at the moment of perfect development—as melons, fruit in general, the sheep, the ox, and all animals eaten when full grown ; others again, even when decomposition has set in—as medlars, woodcocks, and, above all, the pheasant ; others again, after some hurtful quality has, by the cook’s art, been removed—as the potato, tapioca, and so forth. It is gastronomy, moreover, that by classifying those substances according to their various quali- ties, shows which should go together; and from a comparison of their properties as esculents, dis- tinguishes those which should form the basis of a repast from mere accessories, as well as from others which, though by no means indispensable, yet fill up the time agreeably, and assist the after-dinner chat. With regard to what we drink at table, gastronomy is equally interested, classifying ac- cording to age, country, and climate. It teaches how the wines are prepared and kept, but especially how to put them on the table in such an order as to produce for the guests an enjoyment constantly increasing up to the point where pleasure ends and abuse begins. 34 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Another duty of gastronomy is to pass men and things under review, with the view or conveying from country to country all that deserves being known. Thus a skilfully arranged banquet shows you the world in miniature, every part having some representative. Some knowledge of gastronomy is needed by all Advan- men, since it tends to increase the allotted tages of the know- Sum of human happiness; and the more het easy a man’s circumstances, the more ad- nomy. vantages does he gain from such know- ledge; so much so, that it is indispensable to all who have a large income and receive much com- pany—whether they do so to play a part, to please themselves, or to be in the fashion. There is this special advantage, that they must personally have some share in the arrangements of the table, and in superintending or giving directions to those entrusted with the management and preparation. The Prince of Soubise, wishing one day to celebrate a féte, which was to finish off with a supper, gave orders that the bill of fare should be shown him beforehand. Next morning, at his levée, the steward made his appearance with the docu- ment handsomely ornamented, and the first item which caught the eye of the Prince was, “fifty hams.” ¢ Hullo, Bertrand!” said he; “you must be ON GASTRONOMY 35 out of your senses! Fifty hams! do you intend feasting all my soldiers?” ¢ No, your highness; one only will appear on the table, but the others are equally necessary for my espagnole,* my blonds, my ‘trimmings, my——” “Bertrand, you are robbing me, and I can’t let this item pass!” “Ah, monseigneur,” said the artiste, scarcely able to restrain his anger, “you don’t know our resources. Give the order, and those fifty hams which annoy you, I shall put them into a glass bottle no bigger 2” than my thumb.” What reply could be made to an assertion so positive ? The Prince smiled, nodded assent, and so the item passed. It is well known that among nations of primitive habits, any business of importance is ac- . is : Influence companied by a feast, and that it is during of this banquets that savages decide upon war 2% upon business. or make peace. But, not to leave our own country, we see country people making their bargains at the public-house. # An espagnole, according to Littré, is an extremely concen- trated juice or gravy used to make sauces. This same Prince de Soubise (like Béchameil, the maitre d’hétel of Louis the Magnificent, and Robert, one of the Parisian gas- tronomic masters) is as “surely destined to immortality by his sauce, as the name of Herschel by his star, or that of Baffin by his bay.” Our author has a reference to it in the Varieties at the end of this work 36 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. That fact has been taken notice of by some who frequently deal with matters of the highest interest. They saw that a man with a good bellyful was very different from a fasting man; that the table formed a sort of common ground between hosts and guests, rendering the latter more susceptible to certain impressions and influences. Hence arose political gastronomy, by which banquets become a means of government, and frequently decide the fate of nations. The previous observation is by no means a novelty, much less a paradox. Open any historian, from Herodotus to the most recent, and you will see how it was always at banquets that great events of every kind, including even conspiracies, have been first thought of, planned and determined upon. Such, roughly sketched, is the domain of gas- Academy TOROMY—8 domain rich in results of every of Gastro- kind, and which cannot but extend with momy- the labours and discoveries of science. Nay, in a few years, gastronomy must have its academicians, its courses of study, its professors and its prizes. First of all, some enthusiastic and wealthy gas- tronome will hold periodical meetings at his house, where men learned in the theory will join others skilled in the art, in order to discuss and investi- ON THE APPETITE. 37 gate all the details of alimentary science. There- upon, as in the history of all the academies, government will take the matter up, and by organizing, protecting, and establishing the insti- tution, make some compensation to the nation for so many children orphaned by the cannon, and for the tears of so many wives and mothers. Happy the man of influence whose name is to be associated with that important foundation !—a name to be repeated from age to age, with those of Noah, Bacchus, Trip- tolemus, and the other benefactors of our race; he will be amongst the ministers of France what good king Henry the Béarnais is amongst its kings ; and, without any ‘statute to that end made and pro- vided,’ his praise will be in every mouth. Iv. ON THE APPETITE, Ix the living body, life and motion give rise to a constant loss of substance, and the human rp, gefic frame, that complicated machine, would nition. speedily become useless, had not Providence placed within it a moving force to give warning when its powers and its wants are unequally balanced. 38 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. This monitor is the appetite, by which we mean the first feeling of a desire to eat. Appetite an- nounces itself by a slight sensation of languor in the stomach, and general fatigue. The mind, at the same time, is occupied with ideas analogous to its wants; the memory recalls things which pleased the taste; the imagination seems actually to see them—the whole state being a sort of dream, yet not devoid of a certain charm. We have a thousand times heard skilled gastronomes exclaim, in the joy of their hearts, “ What a pleasure it is to have a good appetite, when one is certain of soon having an excellent dinner!” Soon, however, the whole alimentary system shares in the commotion; the stomach feels strongly ; the gastric juices and gases become active; the mouth fills with juices, and all the digestive powers are in arms, like soldiers ready for action, waiting only for the word of command. These various states, in all stages, can be seen in any drawing-room where the guests are kept waiting for dinner. So inherent, indeed, are they in man’s nature, that their symptoms cannot be disguised by the most refined politeness. Hence, I have gathered the maxim that, Of all the qualities of a cook, the most indispensable is punctuality. ON THE APPETITE. 39 To support this grave apophthegm, I shall re- late what I have myself seen at a dinner party, Quorum pars magna fui, where my amusement as an observer saved me from much of the anguish which others underwent. One day I received an invitation to dine with a high public functionary, and at the ap- Anecdote pointed moment, half-past five, everybody a had arrived, for it was known that he : liked punctuality, and sometimes scolded those who were late. I was struck, on my arrival, by the air of consternation that seemed to reign amongst the company: they whispered to each other; they looked out into the courtyard; some faces indicated stupefaction : something extraordi- nary had certainly happened. Going up to one of the guests, whom I thought most likely to satisfy my curiosity, I asked him what the matter was. « Alas!” replied he, in a tone of the deepest sorrow, “monseigneur has been sent for to the Council of State; he is only starting, and who knows when he will be back ?” «Js that all ?” said I, with an air of carelessness very different from my real feelings; «it is only a matter of a quarter of an hour—some information which they require : it is well known that an official 40 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. dinner is given here to-day, and they can’t intend to make us fast.” I spoke thus, though my real sentiments were those of anxiety, and I would fain have been somewhere else. We got over the first hour pretty well. Men who had interests in common sat together; every commonplace topic was exhausted; and some amused themselves with conjectures as to the reason of our favourite Amphitryon being’ summoned to the Tuileries. At the second hour, you could perceive symptoms of impatience; each looked anxiously at his neighbour, and the first to utter complaint were three or four guests who had not found seats, and were therefore in a rather uncomfortable position for waiting. At the third hour, the dissatisfaction became general, and everybody grumbled. “When will he come back ?” said one. “What does he mean?” said another. “It will be the death of some of us,” said a third, At the fourth hour, all the symptoms were aggravated : some stretched their arms at the risk of knocking out their neighbours’ eyes; there was yawning not only seen but heard all over the room ; every face showed marks of intensified feeling. Nobody listened to me when I ventured to say that ON THE APPETITE. 41 he whose absence made us wretched was no doubt the most wretched of all. Our attention was for a moment diverted by an apparition. One of the guests, better acquainted with the house than the rest of us, had found his way to the kitchens, and now returned breathless. His face announced that the end of the world was at hand, as, in an inarticulate voice, and with that muffled tone which expresses at the same time the fear of speaking loud and the desire to be heard, he exclaimed, “ Monseigneur left the house without giving any orders, and however long his absence be, dinner will not be served till his return.” He spoke, and the alarm which his speech oc- casioned will not be exceeded by the effect of the trumpet on the day of judgment. Amongst all those martyrs, the most miserable was the good D’Aigrefeuille,* well known in Paris; he suffered in * Aigrefeuille was an intimate friend and companion of Cam- bacéres, the leading statesman under Napoleon, at whose house, therefore, this incident must be assumed to have occurred. So important were the dinners at the Arch-Chancellor’s, that the Emperor is said to have generally expressed his satisfaction with a conference of diplomatists and plenipotentiaries by the formula, “Go and dine with Cambacéres.” A bond of connection between Cambacéres and our author may have been their legal training and knowledge. It was for his talent as a lawyer that Napoleon made him Second Consul, and afterwards head of the commission who drew up the famous Code Napoleon—perhaps the most valuable monument of his administration. 42 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. every part of his body, and the agony of Laocoon was in his face. Pale, wild-looking, seeing nothing, he had assumed a crouching position in an easy- chair, with his little hands crossed upon his large belly, and his eyes closed, not to sleep, but to wait the approach of death. It came not, however. About ten o’clock, a carriage was heard in the court-yard. Everybody rose up by a spontaneous movement. Gaiety took the place of dejection, and in five minutes we were at table. But the time of appetite was past. The guests had an air of wonder at so unseasonable a dinner: their jaws had none of that isochronous action which indicates regular work; and in the case of several of the guests, I know that the dinner did much more harm than good. In cases of that sort, the proper course to pursue is to eat nothing at all immediately after the forced abstinence, but to swallow a glass of some light drink, or a small basin of soup, in order to soothe the stomach; and then wait about ten or twelve minutes. Unless you do so, the irritated organ will be oppressed by the weight of food with which you are certain to overload it. On great When, in books referring to more pri- appetites. mitive ages, we see the preparations made ON THE APPETITE. 43 for two or three guests, and the huge portions served to each, we are compelled to believe that during the infancy of the world men were endowed with greater appetites. According to the dignity of the personage, his appetite was considered to increase in a fixed proportion; and he who was served with a whole baron of five-year-old beef, had no choice but to drink from a goblet such as he could scarcely lift. More recently, also, there have appeared some as a testimony of what was possible long ago; and there are many examples on record of a voracity almost incredible, and sometimes, indeed, including the most unlikely objects. Sparing my readers any such details, I prefer to relate two actual instances from my own experience, which do not require on their part any great effort of faith. Some forty years ago, I went to pay a flying visit to the vicar of Bregnier, a man of great stature, and known throughout the district for his power of eating. Though scarcely midday, I found him already at table; the soup had been removed, as well as the meat boiled in it, and these two regular dishes had been followed by a leg of mutton a la Royale, a fine capon, and a large bowl of salad. On seeing me, he ordered another knife and fork, which I declined ; and it was well I did so, for alone, 44 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. and without any assistance, he quite easily got rid of everything, leaving of the mutton nothing but the bone, of the capon nothing but the skeleton, and of the salad nothing but the bowl. Next they brought a cheese of considerable size, and in it he made an angular breach of ninety degrees; the whole being washed down with a bottle of wine and a decanter of water, he then went to have his forty winks. One thing which delighted me was, that during the whole of this performance, lasting nearly three quarters of an hour, the venerable pastor did not at all seem too much engrossed in his work. The huge pieces which he threw into his capacious mouth prevented him neither from talking nor laughing, and he despatched all that was put before him with as little effort as if he had only eaten a couple of larks. In the same way General Bisson, who drank eight bottles of wine every day at breakfast, never scemed to be doing anything of the sort. His glass was larger than the others, and he emptied it oftener; but you would have said that he did it without any effort, and, whilst thus imbibing his sixteen pints, he could as freely join in pleasant chat or give his orders as if he had only drunk a single bottle. ON THE APPETITE. 45 That second instance reminds me of my fellow- townsman, the gallant General Sibuet, who was long chief aide-de-camp of Massena, and died on the field of honour at the passage of the Bober in 1813. At the age of eighteen, Prosper had that happy appetite by which Nature announces her intention of completing a well-developed man, when one evening he entered Genin’s dining-rooms, where the worthies of the place usually met to eat chestnuts over a bottle of the white wine there called “ cross-grain.” A superb turkey had just been taken off the spit, a fine bird, handsome, golden, done to a turn, and scenting the room enough to tempt a saint. The village worthies, not being hungry, took very little notice of it; but the digestive powers of young Prosper were stirred within him, and with his mouth watering, he cried, “I have only just had dinner, yet T'll lay a bet to eat that big turkey all by myself.” “Done!” replied Bouvier du Bouchet, a stout farmer who happened to be in the room ; if you'll eat it, I'll pay for you; but if you come to a halt, then you'll pay and I'll eat the rest.” Instantly setting to work, the young athlete detached a wing skilfully and swallowed it in two mouthfuls: then kept his teeth in play, whilst 46 GASTRONOMY AS A FINKE ART. taking a glass of wine as an interlude, by crunching the neck of the fowl. Next he attacked the thigh, and after eating it with the same self-possession, took a second glass of wine to clear the way for the remainder. Very soon the second wing went the same road, and on its disappearance, the performer, as keen as ever, was taking hold of the only remain- ing limb, when the unfortunate farmer shouted, in a doleful tone, “ Ah! I see very well you'll win; but as I have to pay, leave me at least a small bit to myseli.”* Prosper was as good-natured as he afterwards showed himself courageous, and not only consented to his opponent’s request, who thus had for his share the carcase of the fowl, still in excellent condition, but paid cheerfully both for the turkey and the necessary accompaniments. General Sibuet was very fond of quoting this youthful exploit, and used to say that it was merely out of courtesy that he took the farmer into partnership, declaring that without his assistance * As the farmer speaks in a frightful patois, somewhat re- sembling our Somerset, dashed with a few words of, say, Welsh, Savarin takes occasion to boast good-naturedly that the specimen proves not only that ¢& is pronounced in France as well as by the English and the Greeks (he might have added the Spanish), but that in such words as praou there is heard a diphthong which exists in no language, and can be rcpresented by no known characters. ON FOOD. 47 he felt himself perfectly able to gain the wager. His appetite at forty moreover, amply proved the truth of his assertion. V. ON FOOD. WaaAT is meant by food ? The popular meaning is, whatever yields us nourishment; the gi efini- scientific, any substance which, on being tion: submitted to the action of the stomach, becomes assimilated by digestion, and repairs the losses which, from vital use and action, the human body suffers. Thus, the distinctive quality of food is that it can be assimilated by an animal. It is from the animal and vegetable kingdoms only that man has hitherto derived his food. Minerals have as yet yielded only medicines and poisons. Since analytical chemistry was classed among the real sciences, great advances have been (pemical made in gaining insight into the consti- #nalysis. tuent elements of the human body, as compared with those of the substances evidently intended by nature to repair its losses. Between these two branches of study there must be a close analogy, 48 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. since man’s body is in a great measure made up of the same elements as the animals he feeds upon, and in vegetables we must look for the affinities which render them capable of assimilation by animals. I had some intention of here inserting a short treatise on the chemistry of foods, and showing my readers into how many thousandths of carbon, hydrogen, etc., we could reduce them and the dishes on which they feed; but I have refrained, on reflecting that such a task would merely be equi- valent to making a copy of the excellent chemical treatises which are already in everybody’s hand. Moreover, I was afraid of becoming involved in dry details, and have accordingly limited myself to the use of systematic terms—except, here and there, where some chemical results are stated in words less bristling and more intelligible. The greatest service which chemistry has rendered Osma- to alimentary science is the discovery, or Zorze, exact definition, rather, of osmazome. Osmazome is that specially sapid part of meat which is soluble in cold water, and therefore to be distinguished from the “essence,” which is soluble only in boiling water. It is osmazome which con- stitutes the real merit of good soups; which, passing into a state resembling caramel, gives meat its red- dish tinge; which forms the crisp brown on roasts; ON FOOD. 49 and which yields a flavour to venison and game. Osmazome is derived principally from full grown animals, with reddish or dark flesh, such as some call fully formed; and it is scarcely ever found in veal, sucking-pigs, pullets, or even the best fed capons. This explains, by the way, why your real connoisseur has always, in poultry, preferred the inner thigh ; his taste had instinctively anticipated science. By a similar unconscious anticipation of this dis- covery, we can explain the dismissal of so many cooks for having abstracted the first soups; the reputation of the “soupes de primes”; the use of a bason of broth as a restorative after bathing; and Canon Chevrier’s invention of having a padlock on the stock-pot. It was this canon, by the by, who never had spinach served up on a Friday unless it had been cooked on the Sunday, and daily re- placed on the fire with a new addition of fresh butter. It was also in order to prevent any waste of this substance, though yet unknown, that the maxim arose : To make good soup, the pot must only simmer —“smile,” as the phrase is; and a remarkable phrase it is, too, considering its origin. Thus osmazome, discovered after having so long been a source of delight to our forefathers, resembles E 50 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. alcohol, with which many generations had become tipsy before distillation brought it to light. After osmazome comes the product obtained by treating meat with boiling water, and generally termed the extract or essence; when combined with osmazome, it forms the juice, or gravy. Fibre is what composes the flesh tissue, and is seen in cooked meat. It can resist boiling Of what foodis water, preserving its form, although de- ie. prived of some enveloping substances. To carve well, the blade of the knife should be at right angles to the fibre, because thus the meat not only looks better, but tastes better, and is more easily chewed. Bones consist principally of gelatine and phos- phate of lime. The gelatine diminishes as one’s age increases, so that at sixty the bones are merely a kind of imperfect marble. Hence their brittleness in old men, and the rule of prudence which warns them to avoid every chance of a fall. Gelatine occurs in the soft parts as well as in bone and carti- lage. Its special property is coagulation at the ordinary temperature of the air; as when infused in water, in so small a proportion as two and a half per cent. It forms the basis of every kind of jelly, blanc-mange, and similar preparations. Albumen is found both in the flesh and the blood. ON FOOD. 51 It coagulates at a lower temperature than 104° Fah- renheit, and forms the scum on soups. Blood is composed of albuminous serum, fibrine, and a small quantity of gelatine and of osmazome; it coagulates in hot water, so forming that most nourishing article of food, the black-pudding. All the elementary constituents now passed under review are common to man and the animals on which he feeds. We need not wonder, then, that animal food has eminently restorative and strength- ening qualities; for its particles, having already been assimilated, can easily become assimilated anew under the action of our digestive organs. The vegetable kingdom, nevertheless, is for nutritive purposes quite as productive vegetable of varieties and resources. Ag Thus, starch is highly nutritious, being the basis of bread, pastry, and every kind of pea-soup; so forming a large proportion of the food of most nations. By starch is meant the flour got from cereal grains, the different kinds of corn, from legu- minous plants and many roots, especially the potato. It has been remarked that food of this sort weakens the fibre, and even the courage, the Indians being given as an instance, who live almost ex- clusively upon rice, and have become subject to all who ever tried to conquer them. On the other 52 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. hand, upon nearly all the domestic animals starchy food seems to have a strengthening influence, because it is more substantial than their ordinary vegetable food. Sugar is equally important, both as food and as medicine. Formerly attributed only to the Indies and distant colonies, it has recently been found to be a native of our own country, being traced and discovered in the grape, the turnip, the chestnut, and, more particularly, the beet-root ; so that Kurope might actually, in this respect, dispense with the services of America and Hindostan. We shall have to speak more fully of this important product in the following chapter. Whether as a solid, or in its natural state as found in different plants, sugar is extremely nutritious. Animals are fond of it; and the English, who fre- quently give it to their favourite horses, have observed that thus they can stand better their different trials of exertion. Formerly only sold by apothecaries, it has in modern times given rise to various lucrative occupations, such as confectioners, liqueur-sellers, and other dealers in sweetmeats. The oils derived from the vegetable kingdom, and used for food, are so used in virtue of the substances with which they are in combination, and should be regarded principally as a seasoning. ON FOOD. 83 Gluten, which is derived more especially from corn, assists powerfully in the fermentation of bread, and some chemists have even assigned to it some property akin to life. In Paris there is a kind of cakes made to contain much gluten, part of the starch being removed by means of water. They are used for children and birds. Other nutritious products of this kingdom are mucilage, gum, and a sort of gelatine extracted from various fruits, especially apples, gooseberries, quinces, and some others. Jellies of that sort re- quire less sugar than those derived from bones, horns, calves-feet, and fish; and forming a light, pleasant, and wholesome nourishment, are much used both in kitchen and pantry. Excepting the juice, which, as already pointed out, is comprised of osmazome and the po. essential basis, we find in fish most of and flesh the substances noticed in the flesh of land “™" animals, such as fibrine, gelatine, albumen : hence, one can say with reason that the gravy makes ail the difference between Lenten fare and an ordinary dinner. Another characteristic of the fare prescribed in Lent is that it contains a considerable proportion of phosphorus and hydrogen, two very combustible elements. Hence, a fish diet is of a heating quality, 54 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. which perhaps explains the reputation formerly enjoyed by certain religious orders who used a regimen quite opposed to the weakest of their vows. Special I shall say no more on this physiological illustra- question, except to mention a fact the ig truth of which can easily be verified. Some years ago, I went to call at a house in the suburbs of Paris, situated on the banks of the Seine, opposite the island of St. Denis. There was a small hamlet of about eight or ten fishermen’s huts, and being amazed at the numbers of children that I saw swarming on the road, I expressed my surprise to the boatman who was rowing me across. “There are only eight families of us here, sir,” said he, “and we have fifty-three children—forty- nine girls and only four boys; and my son there is one of the four.” As he spoke, he held up his head proudly, and pointed to a little monkey, five or six years old, who sat at the bows of the boat crunching some raw cray-fish. This observation, made more than ten years ago, and others that I could easily give, induced me to believe that the genetic properties of a fish diet are due to it as an excitant merely—a doctrine that I maintain all the more stoutly since Doctor Bailly has proved, as the result of observations made for nearly a century, that when in the annual list of ON FOOD. : 55 births the number of girls is notably greater than that of the boys, the excess is invariably due to debilitating circumstances. This may also explain some of those staple jokes with which people rally a man when his wife is brought to bed of a daughter.* Much might still be said on alimentary substances, both generally and in detail; but the preceding will, I trust, suffice for the majority of my readers. The others I refer to the professional treatises, and, meantime, close with a remark of some importance. In a living organism, we have results quite different from those obtained in abstract chemistry, because the organs intended to produce life and movement exercise a strong influence upon the elementary substances submitted to them. But nature, who takes pleasure in veiling herself, and stopping us at the second or third step, has com- pletely concealed her chemical transformations; and it is really impossible to explain how, given a human body containing lime, sulphur, phosphorus, iron, and a dozen other substances besides, the whole can nevertheless be, for several years, kept up and renewed with nothing but bread and water. * Some diligent enquiry and discreet consultation of wise matrons have been rewarded by finding a survival of Savarin’s saying in our English folk-lore. On the occurrence of the domestic . event referred to in the text, some smiling dame Quickly, or a merry nurse like Juliet’s, will shrewdly remark that “this time he was not man enough.” 56 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART, vi SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. WHEN I began writing, I had the whole plan of the book in my head and the table of contents made out; yet I have advanced but slowly, because my time was partly devoted to graver occupations. In the meantime, accordingly, some parts of the subject have been touched upon by others; elementary works on chemistry and physiology are in every- body’s hands, and many things are already popular- ized which I had hoped to be the first to teach. Hence, on revising what I had written on gas- tronomic chemistry, I so curtailed it that there only remains a few elementary principles, some theories which cannot be too widely known, and a few ob- servations — the fruit of a lengthened experience, and still, I trust, new to most of my readers. Soup is obtained by extracting the soluble parts Soupand from a piece of beef. The water dis- broth. solves first a part of the osmazome; then the albumen, which coagulates at about 104° Fahren- heit, and is skimmed off the surface; then the remainder of the osmazome with essential juice, and finally some parts of the fibre. SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 57 To have good soup, the water must be heated gently, in order to draw out the albumen before it is coagulated, and the boiling must be almost imperceptible, in order to mix thoroughly and gradually the soluble parts which the meat succes- sively yields. Sometimes vegetables or roots are added to the plain soup to improve the flavour, and macaroni or bread to make it more nourishing : it is then a pofage, or vegetable soup or broth— a wholesome, light, and nutritious food, suitable for all; not only satisfying, but giving tone to the digestive organs. It is generally admitted that nowhere is better soup to be had than in France, and in my travels I have seen the truth of the statement confirmed. Nor need the result be wondered at; for, being always a national French dish, it must necessarily have more and more improved by ages of ex- perience. The beef used in making the soup is healthy, satisfying, and easily enough digested, but pyeq does not give much strength, because beef, &e. during the boiling much of the assimilative juices has been lost. In fact, it is a rule of housekeeping that beef loses a half of its weight when boiled in soup. All eaters of such a dish we class under four 53 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART. categories: first, the men of routine, who eat it because their forefathers ate it, and hope, from their implicit submission to the practice, to be also imi- tated by their children ; secondly, impatient guests, who must be doing something at table, and have therefore contracted the habit of throwing them- selves without hesitation upon whatever is first laid before them ; thirdly, men without discrimination, who, not having received from heaven the sacred fire, look upon dining as a mere task, put all kinds of food on the same level, and at table are like so many oysters on a shelf; fourthly, the gluttons, who, wishing to conceal their capacity for swallow- ing, throw hurriedly into their stomachs whatever comes first, to serve as a victim to appease the devouring fire within, and form a basis for all that is to be sent the same way. From regard to his principles, the accomplished gastronome never eats beef cooked in that way—one of his most incontestable maxims being that such a dish is meat without the gravy or principal part. I adhere strongly to the doctrine of second Poultry causes, and firmly believe that all the gal- in general Jingceous order have been created for the sole purpose of furnishing our larders and enriching our banquets. In fact, from the quail to the turkey, wherever we meet an individual of that numerous SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 59 family, we are certain of light, savoury food, suitable to the invalid as well as to the man who enjoys robust health. For is there any man, condemned for a time to hermit’s fare by the faculty, who has not smiled with delight to see a neatly carved wing of chicken, announcing his restoration to social life? We are not satisfied with the qualities which nature has bestowed upon the gallinaceous race ; and on the pretext of improving them by art, we have made martyrs of them. They are not only pre- vented from reproduction, but kept in solitude or darkness, and so stuffed with food as to reach a size which nature never intended. There is no doubt, however, that the preternatural fat is delicious, and that it is to those blameworthy practices that we owe the delicacy and juiciness of some of our most favourite dishes. Thus improved by art, poultry is for the cook what his canvas is to the painter, or his wonderful hat to the conjuror; we have it served up, woiled, roasted, or fried, hot or cold, whole or in parts, with or without sauce, boned, grilled, or stuffed, and always with the same success. There are three places in France rivals for the honour of furnishing the best poultry: Caux, Mans, and Bresse. As to capons, there is some doubt in deciding; and that which a man has his fork in must be the best. But as to chickens, the finest are 60 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. those from Bresse, which are as round as an apple It is a great pity they are so rare in Paris, where they only arrive when sent with a present of game. One of the finest presents made by the New The World to the Old is the turkey, decidedly. turkey. Some of those who wish always to be better informed than their neighbours, tell us that the turkey was known to the Romans, that it was served up at the marriage-feast of Charlemagne, and that therefore it is out of the question to give the Jesuits the credit of this savoury importation. To meet those paradoxes, there were two objec- tions: first, the name “ Coq-d’Inde,” or “dindon,” which is a proof of its origin, since formerly, America was called the “West Indies; ” second, its shape, which is evidently quite foreign. No man able to judge could be mistaken as to the fact; yet, though thoroughly convinced, I have made considerable researches on the matter, and now present the reader with the results, as follows :— The turkey first appeared in Europe towards the end of the seventeenth century. Second, it was im-" ported by the Jesuits, who reared them in great num- bers, and especially at a farm belonging to them in the suburbs of Bourges. Third, they spread thence by degrees over the whole of France, and in many places the popular term for a turkey was, and to some SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 61 extent is, a “jesuit.” Fourth, America is the only place where the wild turkey has been found. Fifth, on the North American farms, where it is very com- mon, it is got, either by taking the eggs and getting them hatched, or by catching the young birds in the woods and taming them ; one result of which is, that they more nearly resemble the wild turkey. Convinced by these proofs, I retain a double feeling of gratitude to those holy fathers; for they also imported cinchona—the “ Jesuit’s bark ” of the English. By the same researches, I find that the turkey is gradually becoming acclimatized in France. Intel- ligent observers tell us that, in the middle of the last century, out of twenty that were hatched, scarcely ten came to maturity, whereas now the result gives fifteen. Storms of rain are especially fatal to them; the large drops frequently causing death by striking on their tender and undefended heads. The turkey is the largest of our domestic fowls, and if not the finest, is the most savoury. wo 1ike Moreover, people of all classes unite to turkey. honour the turkey. When, in the long winter evenings, our wine-growers and farmers wish to regale themselves, what is seen roasting at the hot fire in the kitchen, where the cloth is laid ? A tur- 62 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART. key. When the artisan or workman invites several friends, that they may together enjoy one of the holidays, so much prized, because so rare—what is the dish which, as a matter of course, he gives them at dinner? A turkey, stuffed with sausages and chestnuts. And in circles of the highest reputation in gastronomy, in select companies, where even politics must give place to discussions on the art of good living, what is expected and looked for? what do you always see at the second ccurse? Why, a turkey done with truffles. And in my “ Memoirs as a Public Man,” it is noted how more than once its restoring juices have lighted up the faces of distin- guished diplomatists. The importation of turkeys has given rise to a Its influ- considerable trade, and occasioned some ence on the money market. reference to truffled turkeys only, I have increase to the public revenue. With reason to believe that in Paris alone, from the beginning of November to the end of February, there is a daily consumption of three hundred; which altogether amounts to about £28,300, a very handsome sum to put in circulation. To that should be added a similar sum for the fowls, pheasants, chickens and partridges, which we see every day displayed in the shops, torturing every beholder who is too short of cash to reach them. SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 63 During my stay at Hartford in Connecticut, I had the good fortune to kill a wild tur- A personal key. That exploit deserves to be handed exploit. down to posterity, and I shall tell it all the more complacently that I am myself the hero. An old American farmer, who lived in the back- woods, invited me to a day’s shooting, promising me partridges, grey squirrels, and wild turkeys. He told me, also, if I liked, to bring a friend or two with me. Accordingly, on a fine October day in 1794, we set out, my friend King and I, mounted on hacks, in the hope of reaching, about dusk, Mr. Bulow’s farm, situated about fifteen mortal miles from Hartford. King was a sportsman of rather a peculiar sort ; for, although passionately fond of the exercise, he had no sooner killed a bird or beast, than he looked upon himself as a murderer, and made moral and elegiac reflections on the fate of the defunct. This, how- ever, did not prevent him from beginning again. Though the road was a mere track, we arrived safely, and were received with that hearty unob- trusive hospitality which is shown by acts: every one of us, men, horses, and dogs, being in a couple of minutes examined, kindly treated, and comfortably lodged. It took us about two hours to inspect the farm and 64 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. its dependencies; and I should willingly describe it all, did I not prefer to show the reader Mr. Bulow’s daughters, four buxom lasses, for whom our arrival was a great event. Their age was from sixteen to twenty; they were radiant with freshness and health, and, in all their manners and movements, so simple, lithe, and easy, that even the most ordinary action lent them a thousand charms. Soon after our walk over the farm, we sat down to a table, which was abundantly supplied. There was a superb joint of corned beef, a stewed goose, and a magnificent haunch of mutton, with vegetables of all kinds, and at each end of the table two huge jugs of excellent cider, of which I never tired drinking. After showing our host that, in appetite at least, we were genuine sportsmen, he turned his attention to the object of our journey, indicating the best * places to find game, the land-marks by which we should find our way back, and especially the farms where we could obtain refreshments. The ladies having in the mean time made ready some excellent tea, we drank two or three cups of it, and were then shown to a double-bedded room, where we slept luxuriously after our exercise and good cheer. Next morning we started for the chase, though not very early, and after reaching the limits of the clearings made by Mr. Bulow, I found myself SPECIAL XINDS OF FOOD. 65 for the first time in a virgin forest, where the axe had never yet resounded. It was delicious to walk through it, noting the good and the evil wrought by Time, the creator and destroyer; and I amused myself in tracing all the various phases of an oak’s existence, from the moment it springs out of the earth with two leaves, to that when all that remains of it is a long dark line—the dust of its heart. After being scolded by King for letting my brains go a wool-gathering, we began our sport. First we killed several of those pretty little gray partridges which are so plump and tender; next we brought down six or seven gray squirrels, much thought of in that country; and finally, our lucky star led us into the midst of a flock of turkeys. They rose up each a short time after another, flying with a quick, noisy flap of the wings, and screaming loudly. King fired at the first turkey and then gave chase. The others were out of shot, when the only remaining straggler rose at ten yards’ distance; I took aim as he crossed a clearing, and the bird fell dead. To understand my extreme delight at this fine shot, you must be a sportsman. I laid hold upon the noble bird, and was turning it on every side, when I heard King shouting for assistance. I ran F 66 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. to the place, and found that all he wanted was to assist him in finding a turkey which he declared he had killed, although nowhere to be found. I set my dog on the search; but he led wus into thickets so close and thorny that a snake could not have gone through, and we had to give it up as a bad job—a result which by no means improved my companion’s temper during the rest of our sport. Nothing of importance followed, unless that, on our way back, we lost ourselves in those illimitable woods, and ran a great risk of having to spend the night there, had it not been for the bass voice of Mr. Bulow, mixed with the silvery voices of his daughters. They had come to meet us, and thus got us out of our difficulty. The four sisters were fully equipped with fresh dresses, new sashes, pretty hats and dainty boots, all of which showed they had taken some pains on our account; and for my part, I wished to be as amiable as possible to the one who took my arm, which she did with the air of having quite a wife’s right to do so. On arriving at the farm, we found supper on the table. Before sitting down, however, we enjoyed for a minute or two the cheerful blaze of a fire which had been lighted to refresh us—a custom SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 67 derived, I believe, from the Indians, who have always a fire in their cabins. Or it may be a tra- dition from St. Francis de Sales, who used to say that a fire is a good thing for twelve months of the year; an opinion, however, to which I do not sub- scribe. After eating as if we had been famished, an ample bowl of punch was brought to assist in finishing off the evening, and the conversation of our host, who talked much more unreservedly and at his ease than on the previous evening, led us far into the night. We spoke of the War of Independence, in which Mr. Bulow had served as a superior officer; of Lafayette, whom the Americans always call “the Marquis,” and whose memory they regard with an ever-increasing respect ; of agriculture, then greatly enriching the United States; and, finally, of my own dear France, which I then loved all the more from being compelled to leave it. From time to time, Mr. Bulow would, as an interlude, ask his eldest daughter, Maria, to give us a song. Without being pressed, though not without a charming hesitation, she sang wus the national “Yankee Doodle,” the “Lament of Queen Mary,” and one on Major André—all popular in that part of the country. Maria had been taught music, and was considered quite accomplished; but the great 63 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. charm in her singing was ‘the tone of her voice, at once sweet, unaffected, and clear. Next morning we started, though pressed kindly to stay; but, as they were getting the horses ready, Mr. Bulow took me aside and made the following remarkable observations :— “In me you see a happy man, if there is one on earth. All that surrounds you, or that you have seen in my house, is produced on the farm ; these stockings were knitted by my daughters; my shoes and clothes come from my flocks, which, with my garden and farmyard, also supply plain and sub- stantial food. Moreover, it is to the honour of our government that in Connecticut there are thousands of farmers quite as well off as myself, and not one of them, any more than myself, ever locks his doors. We have scarcely any taxes, or anything else to disturb our peace of mind. Congress assists the growth of our industries in every possible way; we have agents from every quarter to rid us of what- ever we have to sell; and at the present moment, for example, I have sufficient money in hand for a long time, having just sold at twenty four dollars the wheat which I usually give for eight. All these advantages are due to the liberty which we have gained by arms and founded on good laws. I am master here; and you will not be astonished to SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 69 know that we never hear the sound of the drum, and unless on the fourth of July, the glorious anniversary of our independence, never see either soldiers, uniforms, or bayonets.” Throughout the whole time of our return from the farm I was absorbed in deep thought, not, how- ever, about Mr. Bulow’s concluding speech, but something very different. I was thinking how I should get my turkey cooked, being afraid, for one thing, that I could not find everything at Hartford that was necessary to display my spolia opima to advantage, and so raise a trophy of my skill. It costs me a painful effort to suppress the details of my exertions, as artiste, to give to my American guests a dinner in good style. Suffice it to say that the wings of the partridges were served up en papillote, and the gray squirrels stewed in Madeira. As for the turkey, which was the only roast we had, it was tempting to look upon, delightful to smell, and delicious to taste; and so, up to the disappear- ance of the very last morsel, you could hear, all round the table, “Very good !”—¢ Excellent!” —“ My dear sir, what a glorious bit!” * * ¢The flesh of the wild turkey has more colour and flavour than that of the domestic turkey. M. Bosc tells me that he has shot some in Carolina much finer than those we have in Hurope, and he advises all rearers of turkeys to give them as much liberty as possible, take them out into the fields and even the woods, in order to heighten their flavour and bring them nearer the primitive species.’ 70 GASTRONGAMY AS A FINE ART. The term game is applied to those animals, good for food, which live in the woods and "fields in a state of nature. We say “good for food,” in order to exclude such animals as the fox, the badger, the raven, the wild goose, the owl, and so forth. On game We classify game in three divisions. First, all the small birds, from the thrush downwards. The second includes the corn-crake, the snipe, partridge, pheasant, hares and rabbits—game properly so- called, on lands or marshes, with down or feathers. The third is generally known as venison ; to wit, the wild boar, deer, roebuck, and others analogous. Game is a principal luxury at the dinner-table; it is wholesome, heating, well-tasted and flavoured, and easy of digestion to young stomachs. Many of those qualities, however, are due in a great measure to the skill of the cook. Throw into a pot of water some salt and a piece of beef, and you have pre- sently soup and a dish of boiled meat. Instead of beef put venison—you will have but poor fare; from this point of view, butcher’s meat has the advantage. Under the directions of a skilful cook, however, game is scientifically modified and transformed in very many ways, furnishing most of the highly flavoured dishes which are the chief boast of gastronomic art. SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 9% Game also owes much of its quality to the nature of the ground it is fed on. The red partridge of Perigord tastes differently from that of Sologne; and whilst a hare killed in the neighbourhood of Paris seems but a poor dish, a leveret from the sun- burnt slopes of Valromey or the highlands of Dauphiné might be pronounced the finest flavoured of all quadrupeds. Amongst small birds, the first in order of excellence is, without contradiction, the fig-pecker. He fattens quite as much as the redbreast or the ortolan, and nature has endowed him with so exquisite a combination of a slightly bitter tang and a very choice flavour, that all parts of the gustatory organs are brought into play, fully occupied, and beatified. If the fig-peckers were as big as pheasants, they would certainly cost as much apiece as an acre of land.* %* When I was a boy, the people of Belley used to speak of a Jesuit brother Fabi, and his special predilection for the fig- peckers. As soon as they were cried in the street, some one would say, “ There are the fig-peckers; Father Fabi will be here presently.” And, sure enough, he never failed to arrive with a friend on the first of September. ¢So long as he was in France, he never omitted this ornithophilic visit, which was only interrupted when he was sent to Rome, where he died a penitentiary in 1788. He was a man of learning, and wrote several works on theclogy and physics, trying to prove, in one of them, that he had discovered the circulation of the blood before, or at least as soon as, Harvey.’ Among small birds, the English wheatear might, as a delicacy, 72 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Few people know how to eat small birds. The following is the proper mode, as confided to me by Canon Charcot, a professional gastronome of the first order thirty years before the word was known. Taking the plump little bird by the beak, sprinkle a little salt over him, pull out the gullet, pop him cleverly into your mouth, and biting him off close to the fingers, chew with all your might; you will imme- diately have juice enough to flood the palate, and you will taste a pleasure unknown to the uninitiated— Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.—HOR. Of all kinds of game, properly so-called, the quail is perhaps the chief favourite, giving pleasure not only by taste, but by its form and colour. Only ignorance can excuse those who serve it up otherwise than roasted or em papillotes, because its flavour is so easily lost, that if the animal is plunged in any liquid it evaporates and disappears. The woodcock is also a bird well deserving notice, but few know all its good points. It should be roasted under the eye of a sportsman, especially the sportsman who has killed it. vie with the French becfigue. A Scotch officer was dining with the late Lord George Lennox, when commandant at Portsmouth, and, being placed near a dish of wheatears, they began to dis- appear with great rapidity. Lady Louisa Lennox tried to divert his attention to another dish. “Na, na, my leddy,” was the reply; 4 these wee birdies will do very well.” SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 723 Above the preceding, and indeed, above all, must be placed the pheasant; but only few mortals can have it served up to perfection. Iaten within a week after being killed, pheasants are inferior to both partridges and chickens, for their merit consists in the aroma, in virtue of which a pheasant, taken at the proper stage, becomes a morsel worthy of any gastronome of the foremost reputation in the art. Later on I shall show how to roast a pheasant a la sainte alliance; for the time is now come when that method should, for the happiness of mankind, be known far and wide. It has been maintained, by some men of great learning but little orthodoxy, that the ocean has been the common cradle of every On fish. living thing, and that even the human race is derived from it, their present state being due to the new element, air, and the new habits which it gave occasion for. However this may be, it is certain that the watery empire contains an immense number of beings of every form and size, with vital qualities in very different proportions. Fish, being less nourishing than meat, and more succulent than vegetables, forms a “middle term,” suitable to nearly every temperament, and may be allowed even to convalescents. 74 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. The Greeks and Romans, though not so advanced in the art of preparing fish, held it nevertheless in great repute, and pushed their refinement to such a point as to be able, by merely tasting, to tell in what water it had been caught. They had ponds to keep them in, and the classical reader will remember the cruelty of Vedius Pollio, who fed his lampreys with the bodies of slaves killed for the purpose—an act of cruelty which the Emperor Domitian highly blamed, and which he ought to have punished.* A great discussion has been raised as to whether sea fish or fresh-water fish should bear the palm; and most probably the question will always remain open, since, as the Spaniards say, “ sobre gustos no hay disputas.” Every man is affected differently : those fleeting sensations cannot be expressed in any language, and we have no standard by which to compare a cod-fish, a sole, or a turbot, with a salmon-trout, a pike of the primest, or even a tench of six to seven pounds. It is agreed on all hands that fish is much less nourishing than meat, whether on account of the want of osmazome, or of its being less dense and substantial. Shell-fish, especially oysters, afford * Qur author has curiously (considering Domitian’s character) put one emperor for another, Augustus. For the story of the eel- pond, and the punishment which was inflicted, see Dr. Smith’s “ Class. Dict.” SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. v5 little nourishing matter, which explains why a man can eat so many just before dinner without spoiling his appetite. Formerly, as many of us can re- member, every dinner of importance began with oysters, and there was always a good number of the guests who would swallow a gross without stopping. Wishing once to know the weight of this advance guard, I ascertained that a dozen oysters weigh four ounces, and a gross, therefore, three pounds; and there is no doubt the appetites of the guests would have been completely appeased if they had eaten the same quantity of meat, even if only chicken. In 1798 I was at Versailles, as Commissary of the Directory, and had frequently to meet the Osster registrar of the tribunal, M. Laperte. He ®necdote. was so fond of oysters that he used to grumble about never having had what he called “a good bellyful.” Being determined to procure him that satisfaction, I asked him to dinner. He came; I kept up with him to the third dozen, letting him then go on by himself; he went on steadily to the thirty-second, that is to say, for more than an hour —as they were opened but slowly; and as in the meantime I had nothing else to do—a state quite unbearable at table—I stopped him just as he was beginning to show more go than ever. “My dear boy,” said I, “it must be some other day that you 76 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. are to have ‘a good bellyful’ of them; let us now have some dinner.” We took dinner, and he showed all the vigour and action of a man who had been fasting. Among the ancients, there were two famous kinds Mula, Of fish-sauce, muria and garum. The garum. former was nothing but the brine of the tunny, or more exactly, the liquid which the mixture of salt caused to flow from that fish. Garum, which was more valued, is not so well known ; some think it was extracted from the salted entrails of the scomber, or mackerel, though that leaves its high price unexplained. It seems likely it was a foreign sauce ; perhaps even the “soy” which we get from India, and which is known to be got by the fermentation of a mixture of fish and mushrooms. Certain races have, from their position, been com- pelled to live almost solely on fish; they also use it not only to feed their beasts of burden, till even they take it habitually, but also as manure; yet the surrounding sea never ceases yielding always the same quantity. It has been remarked that those races are less courageous than people who live on meat. They are pale, which is not astonishing, since, from the chemical composition, fish-food must increase the lymph more than repair the blood. Numerous Tish-diet. SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 77 examples of longevity have also been noticed among fish-eating races, perhaps because a light, unsubstan- tial diet prevents too great fulness of blood. However that may be, fish, under skilful hands, offers inexhaustible resources of gustatory enjoy- ment ; it is served up entire, in pieces, or sliced ; done in water, in oil, or in wine; hot or cold; and in all cases it receives a hearty welcome. It never, however, deserves a more favourable reception than when done a la matelote—a provocative which™ no lovers of fish ever see appear without expressions of the highest delight, whether because it combines several good qualities, or because one can eat of it to an undefined extent without fear of satiety or indigestion. Fish, using the term to indicate all the species considered as one whole, is for the philo- p,. ~ sopher a source of endless meditation and phical re- astonishment. As for myself, I have for Pociion, those creatures a sentiment akin to respect, springing from a deep conviction that they are antediluvian ; for the great cataclysm which drowned our grand- uncles about the eighteenth century of the world’s history, was for the fishes nothing but a time of joy, conquest, and festivity. Whoever says “truffle,” utters a word associated with many enjoyments, The origin of the truffle is #8 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. unknown ; it is found, but how it is produced, or its On mode of growth, nobody knows. Men of truffles. the greatest skill have studied the ques- tion; and some felt certain they had discovered the seeds, and thus could multiply the truffle at will. Vain efforts and deceitful promises! Their planting produced no crop; and it is, perhaps, no great mis- fortune: for since truffles are often sold at fancy prices, they would probably be less thought of if people could get plenty of them and at a cheap rate. “ What delightful news for you, my dear lady,” said I one day to Madame V.; “an invention for making lace has just been brought before the Society for the Encouragement of Science, and superb Brussels will be sold for almost nothing!” “Really!” replied my fair friend, with a look of supreme indifference; “but if lace were cheap, do you think one would wear such ragged-looking stuff?” The glory of the truffle may now, in 1825, be Yond said to have reached its culmination. Who qualities can dare mention being at a dinner un- oftruffles: Joss it had its piece truffée. However good an entrée may be, it requires truffles to set it off to advantage. ‘Who has not felt his mouth water at the mere mention of truffes a la provengale 2 Then a sauté de truffes, again, is a dish reserved for SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 79 the lady of the house to do the honours. In a word, the truffle is the very gem of gastronomic materials. The best truffles in France come from Perigord and High Provence, and it is about January they are in full flavour. Those of Burgundy and Dauphiné are inferior, being hard and wanting in flavour. Thus, there are truffles and truffles, as there are faggots and faggots.” The term “sugar” was formerly applied only to the thickened crystallized juice of the cane; but, more generally, it is a sweet, crystallizable substance, which by fermentation yields carbonic acid and alcohol. From some passages in the ancient writers we can readily believe that the Romans had observed that a sweet juice is yielded by certain reeds. Thus On sugar. Lucan says: Quique bibunt tenerd dulces ab arundine succos. But from such sweetish juice to the sugar of modern times is an immense leap. It is in the New World that sugar had its real origin. For a long time men believed that it required the heat of the tropics to grow sugar, till, about 1740, Margraff discovered it in some plants of the temperate zone, such as the beet-root. Then, at the commencement of the present century, the French 80 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Government encouraged scientific investigation into the matter, and with abundant success, for it became certain that sugar was widely dispersed throughout the vegetable kingdom. It was found in the grape, the chestnut, the potato, and more especially the beet-root. Hence the extensive cultivation in France of that last-mentioned plant, with such success as to prove abundantly that, so far as sugar is concerned, the Old World could manage without the New. In connection with this, I may mention, as a striking instance of the force of prejudice and of the difficulty of establishing a fact, that out of a hundred British subjects taken indiscriminately, there are not ten who believe that sugar can be made from the beet-root. The use of sugar becomes daily more frequent and general, and no article of food has undergone more transformations or combinations. Mixed with water it gives a refreshing, wholesome, and pleasant drink; or, when in larger proportion and concen- trated, syrups. Ices are another preparation due to sugar, said to have been introduced from Italy by Catherine de Medici; then there are liqueurs and cordials in great variety, by combining it with wines or spirits. Mixed with flour and eggs, it gives biscuits of a hundred kinds—as macaroons, etc. ; with milk it gives creams, blancs-mangers, and so SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 81 forth, which form so agreeable a termination to a second course, and substitute for the taste of the solids a flavour more refined and ethereal. Mixed with coffee, it develops its aroma, and when milk is added, gives a light and pleasant food, very suitable for men of studious habits, and an espe- cial favourite of the ladies. Mixed with fruit and the essence of flowers, it gives preserves, marma- lades, candies, and other confections, ingeniously retaining for us the enjoyment of their flavours and perfumes long after the time fixed as the natural limit. M. Delacroix, an author whose writings are as popular as they are numerous, used to grumble at Versailles about the price of sugar—then more than 1” four shillings a pound. “Ah!” he would say in his gentle way, “if ever it should come to be sold at a shilling, I shall never drink water without sugar in it.” His prayers have been heard, and, as he still lives, I suppose he keeps his word. According to ancient tradition, coffee was dis- covered by a shepherd who observed that Origin of as often as his flock browsed on the coffee- fee: tree or ate the berries they showed more excitement and gaiety. However that may be, at least half the honour belongs unquestionably to whoever first thought of roasting the coffee-beans, for it is when a 82 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. carbonized that they yield the aroma and character- istie oil. The Turks, our masters in this particular, never use any mill for grinding coffee, but crush it in mortars with wooden crushers. Accordingly, to test which is the preferable method, I carefully roasted a pound of good Mocha, and dividing it into two equal parts, got one of them ground, and the other crushed in the Turkish manner. Then, having made coffee of each powder in exactly the same way, I tasted it, and also got the opinion of several big-wigs. The unanimous verdict was that the crushed was undoubtedly better than the ground.* “Sir,” said Napoleon one day to the Senator Iustra- Laplace, “how does it happen that a glass oe of water in which I melt a piece of loaf- sugar seems much better than that in which I put * In the ‘ Memoirs of Dr. Chalmers,’ we read of a select company of connoisseurs being assembled to decide upon the compara- tive merits of coffee (then—1810—*‘a new beverage’ in Fifeshire) and an invention of his own, an infusion of burnt rye. It was agreed that each should be furnished first with a cup of the best Mocha, and then with a cup of the rye-ceffee, or ¢ genuine Kilmany,” as it was nicknamed. In due time the company assembled, and the coffee being handed round, met with general approbation. The second cup was then presented; by one after another an adverse verdict was pronounced, culminating in the intense disgust of Professor Duncan, who shouted, “ Much inferior, very muck inferior!” Chalmers’s reply was a roar of laughter, with the words, “It’s your own Mocha coffee; the second cup is just the same article as the first!” SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 83 the same quantity of crushed sugar?” ¢ Sire,” answered the man of science, “there are three substances whose elementary constituents are ex- actly the same; viz: sugar, gum, and starch; they only differ in certain conditions of which nature reserves to herself the secret, and it is possible, in my opinion, that some of the particles may, in the process of crushing, pass from the sugary state to that of starch or gum, and so cause the difference referred to.” It is beyond doubt that coffee acts upon the functions of the brain as an excitant. Effects of Every one who drinks it for the first time fee is certain to be deprived of part of his sleep; and many never drink it-without that excitation, though in general it is modified by use. Voltaire and Buffon drank a deal of coffee, to which habit some would ascribe the wonderful clear- ness in everything the former wrote, as well as the harmony and warmth which pervade the style of the latter; several of whose pages on.man, on the dog, the tiger, the lion, and the horse, were evidently written in a state of unusual cerebral excitement. Sleeplessness caused by coffee is not painful. One has the mental perception very clear, and there is no desire for sleep; that is all. There is not the agitated, unhappy feeling which proceeds from other 84 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. forms of sleeplessness, yet the artificial excitement may in the long run become very hurtful. A man of good constitution can drink two bottles of wine a~day throughout a long lifetime; but he would not stand the same quantity of coffee so long. He would become an idiot, or die of consumption. In Leicester Square, London, I have seen a man whom the immoderate use of coffee had reduced to the state of a helpless cripple. He no longer suffered any pain, but had become accustomed to the state, and limited himself to five or six glasses a-day. I am one of those who have been obliged to give up using coffee, and shall finish this section by giving an incident from my personal experience. One day the Duke of Massa, then a Minister of State, assigned me a duty for next morning ; and, as I wished to bestow pains upon it, I made up my mind to do without sleep, and therefore drank after dinner two large cups of the strongest coffee. On returning home at seven o'clock, instead of the papers necessary for preparation, I found a letter to say that, owing to some official formality, I could not receive them before next day. After a game at cards, I went to bed at my ordinary hour, not with- out inquietude, but thinking I should at least have four or five hours’ sleep to help me through the SPECIAL KINDS OF FO0O0D. 85 night. I was quite wrong, however; and after being two hours in bed, I only felt more wide-awake. I was in a state of lively mental agitation, pictur- ing to myself my brain as a mill, with all the wheels going and nothing to grind. To utilize this dis- position, I set myself to make a poetical version of a story I had recently read in an English book, but sleep came no nearer; then I undertook a second, and after composing a dozen lines, gave up the attempt. In short, I spent the night without sleep- ing or even feeling sleepy; and getting up next morning spent the whole day without any change of feeling. On going to bed the second day I calculated that I had been for forty hours without shutting my eyes. The cacao, or chocolate tree, is indigenous to South America, being found both in the islands on choco- and on the continent ; and it is to its bean, 12te- when ground and mixed with sugar, and flavoured with cinnamon or vanilla, ete., that the name choco- late is given. With some of the Spanish ladies in the New World, the liking for chocolate has become quite a passion, and they even have it brought to church. Introduced into Spain during the seventeenth cen- tury, it crossed the Pyrenees with Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip IL. and wife of Louis X1IL; 26 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. and at the commencement of the Regency was mora in vogue than coffee. Linnzus, as is well known, named the tree “ Theo- broma,” or divine food—an emphatic qualification which some attribute to his excessive fondness for chocolate, others to his desire to please his father- confessor, who, like many of the clergy then, used it habitually, and others, again, to his gallantry, because a queen was the first to introduce it. Time and experience, those two great masters, Qualities D2VE proved that, when properly prepared, of choco- chocolate is wholesome, nourishing, and pi easily digested ; and also that it is most suitable for those who have much brain work—for clergymen, lawyers, and, above all, for travellers. After eating a good and hearty breakfast, if you swallow a large cup of good chocolate, all will be perfectly digested in three hours, and still leave a good appetite for dinner. -In my zeal for science, and by dint of eloquence, I have had this tested by a good many ladies, who, after declaring it would be the death of them, found themselves all the better for it, and gave me the full praise due to gastronomic skill. I should here speak of chocolate @ Pambre and its properties, which I take pride in bringing before my readers, because they are fruit of many experi- ments, SPECIAL KINDS OF FOOD. 87 Let, then, every man who has drunk too deeply from the cup of pleasure, every man who has : devoted to work a considerable part of the time due to sleep, every man of wit who feels that he has temporarily become stupid, every man who finds the air damp, the weather unendurable, or time hanging heavy on his hands, every man tormented with some fixed idea which deprives him of the liberty of thinking—Iet all such people, we say, pre- scribe to themselves a good pint of chocolate mixed with amber in the proportion of from sixty to seventy grains to the pound, and they will see wonders. “Sir,” said the Abbess Madame d’Arestrel to me more than fifty years ago, “when you would have good chocolate, get it made overnight in an carthenware coffee-pot, and leave it in it. By rest- ing through the night it becomes concentrated, and acquires a softness which greatly improves it. Le bon Dieu cannot be offended at this nicety, for he himself is all perfection.” 38 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART, VIL THEORY OF FRYING. IT was a fine day in the month of May. The smoky roofs of the Capital of Pleasure were bathed in pleasant sunshine, and the streets, for a wonder, showed neither mud nor dust. The heavy stage- coaches had for some time ceased to shake the streets, and the huge waggons were at rest. Only open carriages were to be seen, full of fair ladies, native or foreign, shaded under pretty hats, and casting haughty or coquettish looks upon the men who passed, according as they were pitiful or hand- some fellows. In other words, it was about three in the after- noon, when the professor sat down in his reflecting- chair, with one leg resting vertically on the floor, and the other stretched diagonally across it, his back comfortably supported, and his hands resting on the lions’ heads which terminate the arms of that venerable piece of furniture. His high forehead showed a love of serious study, and his mouth a taste for agreeable recreation; while his thoughtful air and attitude at once suggested experience and wisdom. THEORY OF FRYING. 89 When thus established, the professor sent for his head cook, and immediately that servitor appeared, ready to receive advice, lesson, or command. “Well, Master La Planche!” said the professor, with that serious tone which thrills his hearers; “all who dine at my table declare that none beat you for soups, but I am sorry to see that in frying your results are not so trustworthy. Yesterday, for instance, I heard you groan when that superb sole was served up pale, flabby, and discoloured. My friend R. cast at you a glance of disapproval, Mr. H. turned his gnomonic nose to the west, and President S. deplored the failure as a public calamity. “This misfortune has befallen you through your neglect of principles of which you do not feel the full importance. Being somewhat self-willed, it has been difficult to make you understand that every phenomenon of your laboratory is in accordance with the eternal laws of nature, and that certain things which you do without reflection, merely because you have seen them done by others, can be traced nevertheless to the highest abstractions of science. « Listen, then, attentively, and learn, so that you may not have again to blush at your work- manship. 90 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. “The liquids which you expose to the action Capacity Of fire become charged with different of heat. amounts of heat, in virtue of some pro- perty impressed upon them by nature, the secret of which is yet reserved from us. Thus, you might with impunity dip your finger in spirits of wine when boiling, but you would draw it out quick enough from brandy, and quicker still if it were water, while even a hasty immersion in boiling oil would hurt you cruelly—the capacity of oil for heat being at least three times that of water. “ Hence it is that an alimentary substance in boil- ing water softens, becomes dissolved, and forms a soup; and in oil, it contracts, assumes a darker eolour, and at last has its surface carbonized. In the former case, the water dissolves and draws out the juices contained by the sapid substance; in the latter, the juices are preserved, because the oil can- not dissolve them. It is to the second process, boiling in oil or fat, that the term ‘to fry’ is properly applied. : “The beauty of a good fry is in carbonizing or browning the surface by sudden immersion—the process known as the ‘surprise.’ It forms a sort of vault to enclose all that is valuable, prevents the fat from reaching it, and concentrates the juices, so as best to develop the alimentary qualities. THEORY OF FRYING. : 91 “I say nothing about choosing oils, or fat, be- cause the cooking-books give sufficient information on that head. Don’t forget, however, when you have any of those trout, weighing scarcely more than a quarter of a pound, and fetched from streams that murmur far from the capital —don’t forget, I say, to fry them in the very finest olive-oil you have. This simple dish, properly served up with slices of lemon, is worthy of a cardinal.* “In exactly the same way you should treat smelts, of which adepts think so much. The smelt is amongst the fish what the fig-pecker is amongst the birds : the same in size, the same in flavour, the same in excellence. ; “You have taken charge of my lower regions, and you had the glory of first presenting to an astonished universe a huge turbot fried. That day there was amongst the elect a great jubilation. “Go then, and bestow pains upon your duties, never forgetting that from the moment the guests step over my threshold, it is we who are responsible for their happiness.” * ¢One day M. Aulissin, a Neapolitan lawyer, dining with me, exclaimed, as he ate of something that was quite to his taste, “ Questo é un vero boccone di cardinale !” “For a cardinal!” I re- plied; “why don’t you say for a king, as we do?” ¢ My dear sir,” answered the gastronome, “we Italians think that kings cannot appreciate good living, because their repasts are too hurried and formal; but the cardinals—eh!” with a peculiar chuckle, “ho! ho!”’? 92 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. VIIL ON THIRST. Wz believe that the seat of the feeling of thirst is the digestive system generally. When one is thirsty —as we have often been when hunting—there is a well-defined feeling throughout all the absorbing parts of the mouth, throat, and stomach. So keen is the sensation of thirst, that, in nearly every language, the word is used to express an excessive longing or eager desire; thus, we have a thirst for power, wealth, vengeance, ete. Thirst kills much more quickly than hunger. We have examples of men who have survived for eight days without eating, because they had water, whilst those who are absolutely deprived of anything to drink never pass the fifth day. The difference is explained by the fact, that the latter die simply of exhaustion and weakness, whilst the former are seized by a fever, which burns them up, and keeps increasing in malignancy. Sometimes thirst causes death in even a shorter time. In 1787, there was an instance of this in the death of one of the Swiss bodyguard of Louis XVL, caused by remaining only twenty-four hours without ON THIRST. 93 drinking. He had been drinking with some com- panions, and because one of them blamed him for filling his glass oftener than the others, saying he could not do without drinking for even the shortest time, he laid a wager of ten bottles of wine that he would remain twenty-four hours without drinking. He kept his word ; the night he passed without diffi- culty, but at daybreak he found it rather hard to do without his customary dram, and throughout the forenoon he was restless and uneasy, going and coming, rising up and sitting down, in a purposeless fashion, with the air of not knowing what to do. About one o'clock he went to bed, thinking he would be more at his ease ; he felt in pain, and was really ill, but it was in vain for those about him to ask him to drink something—he declared he should manage all right till the evening. Besides a desire to win the wager, there was no doubt some soldierly pride which prevented him from giving way to pain. He kept up in this way till seven o'clock, but at half-past he became worse, turned himself to die, and breathed his last without being able to taste a glass of wine which was offered him. All these details were told me the same evening by their bandmaster, Herr Schneider, at whose house I lived when in Versailles. Bodily exertion increases thirst; Bence, when a 04 GASTRONOMY AS A FINL ART. proprietor employs workmen, he provides a supply Causes of Of something stronger than water — the thirst: proverb being, “ The wine that fetches the best price, is that which is given to the labourers.” Dancing increases thirst; hence the number of strengthening or refreshing drinks which always accompany balls and hops. Public speaking in- creases thirst; hence the glass of water which lecturers study to drink with grace, and which we shall soon see on the edge of the pulpit. Singing increases thirst; hence the universal reputation which musicians have of being indefatigable drinkers. A musician myself, I rise to oppose this prejudiced statement, as being devoid both of wit and truth. Another active cause of thirst is the exposure to a rapid current of air; a fact which I shall illustrate by the following incident. One day, when about to commence quail-shooting with some friends on a hill near Nantua, a north wind sprang up, and before we had been a quarter of an hour afield, every one of us was thirsty, and after a consultation it was decided that we should have something to drink every quarter of an hour. Our thirst, however, was invincible; neither wine, nor brandy, nor wine mixed with water, nor water mixed with brandy, was of the slightest use. We were thirsty even when drinking, and felt uncom- ON THIRST. 95 fortable throughout the whole day; whereas, on the following day, the wind having fallen during the night, we hunted a great part of the day without being inconvenienced by the thirst, though the sun’s heat was quite as strong, or even stronger. But that was not the worst of it; our flasks, though well and prudently filled on leaving home, had been so often laid under requisition the first day, that now they were as useless as bodies without souls, and we had to fall back upon what the country inns afforded. There was no help for it, yet we groaned ; and it was with no gentle anathema that I apostrophized the parching wind when I saw that regal dish, épinards a la graisse de cailles, about to be washed down with a wine almost as poor as Suréne.* * ¢Suréne, a pleasant lige a the Seine, to the west of Paris, famous for its poor wine. The saying is that it needs three men to drink a glass of Suréne wine, one to swallow, and two assistants, to keep him up and prevent him from losing heart.’ Our author has himself already spoken of it proverbially, in the second chapter, as being the greatest possible contrast to Cham- bertin. It was a joke of Henry IV. to talk of his good wine of Suréne. 96 = GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. IX: ON DRINKS. UNDER the term “drink” must be comprehended all liquids which are used with the various kinds of food. Water is the only drink which really quenches thirst, and therefore can only be drunk in small quantities. Most of the other beverages are nothing but palliatives; and if man had kept to water, it would never have been said of him that one of his privileges was to drink without being thirsty. Whatever is drunk is absorbed with extreme facility by the animal economy ; it is prompt in its effects, and almost instantaneous in the relief it affords. Let an exhausted man have the most sub- stantial food put before him, he cannot eat without difficulty, and will at first feel no great benefit. But give him a glass of wine or brandy, and the same instant he feels better and seems quite a new man. I can support this theory by a rather remarkable instance told me by my nephew, Colonel Guigard, who was not much of a story-teller, and whose veracity I can vouch for. When returning from ON DRINKS. 97 the siege of Jaffa at the head of his detachment, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile from the watering-place where they were to halt, they began to find, by the roadside, the bodies of several soldiers who had preceded them by a day’s march, and were killed by the heat. Amongst these victims of that burning climate was a carabineer well known to nearly all the detachment. He must have been dead more than twenty-four hours, and from the sun beating on his face for a whole day, it was as black as a crow. Some of the soldiers gathering about him, either to take a last look or to act as his heirs (if there was anything), were astonished that his limbs were not stiffened, and there was still some warmth over his heart. “Give him a drop of the real stuff!” cried a rough fellow amongst the bystanders. “If he’s not far gone into the other world, I'll guarantee he'll come back to taste that—the taste of it will bring him back!” In fact, at the first thimbleful of spirit, the dead man opened his eyes. With exclamations of sur- prise they rubbed his temples and poured another dram down his throat, and in a quarter ef an hour he was able, with some assistance, to sit on the back of an ass. After being in this way brought to the _ watering-place, they watched him during the night H 03 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. and fed him with precaution, at first giving him some dates to eat; and next day, having remounted his ass, he reached Cairo along with the other soldiers. It is very remarkable how men are led to the Strong discovery of strong drinks by a kind of drinks. jnstinct, which is as general as it is im- perious. Wine, the chief favourite, whether we owe it to Noah, who planted the vine, or to’ Bacchus, who squeezed out the juice of the grape, takes its date from the infancy of the world ; and beer, attributed to Osiris, goes back to the very dawn of history. All men, even those whom we agree to call savages, have been so tormented with that desire for strong drinks, that, however limited their know- ledge, they have succeeded in finding some. They have soured the milk of their domestic animals; they have extracted the juice of different fruits, roots—whatever they may have imagined to contain a fermentative principle. Wherever we find men together, we also find they are provided with strong liquors, which they make use of at their banquets, their religious ceremonies, their marriages, their funerals—in short, on every festive or solemn occasion. For many centuries was wine drunk and sung without any thought of extracting from it the ON DRINKS. 99 spirituous part in which the strength lies; but having learned the art of distillation from the Arabians, who had invented it to extract the perfume of flowers—especially of the rose, so cele- brated in their writings—some began to think it possible that the cause of the high quality, peculiar flavour, or specially stimulating property of wine might be discovered, and, by tentatively groping and feeling their way, they discovered alcohol, spirits-of-wine, brandy. The knowledge of how to extract alcohol has, more- over, led to other important results; for similar rethods have discovered some substances previously unknown, such as quinine, morphine, strychnine, and others of the same sort. In any case, this thirst for a liquid which Nature had wrapped up in mystery—an extraordinary desire, influencing all races of men, under all climates and in all latitudes—well deserves to fix the attention of the philosophic observer. I, too, have given thought to the subject, and feel tempted to put the desire for fermented liquors in the same category with the anxiety about a future state—both being unknown to the lower animals,—and to regard them as the two distinctive attributes of man-—the masterpiece of the last cosmical revolution. 100 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Xx. ON THE END OF THE WORLD. I sat, “the last cosmical revolution”—an idea which has awakened in my mind a train of thought leading far away from my subject. There are unassailable proofs that our globe Eo already undergone several absolute changes, and these have been so many “ends of the world.” Some instinct warns us that there are others to follow. Already, men have often believed that such a revolution was on the eve of taking place; and I know a good many people who were sent to their knees by Jerome Lalande’s prediction of a watery comet. Most writers seem disposed to surround such a catastrophe with judgments of vengeance, destroy- ing angels, trumpets, and similar dread accessories. But, alas! there is no need of such a hubbub for our destruction; we are not worth so much pomp, and the whole face of the globe can be changed without any such solemnity or preparation. Thus should a comet, by approaching the sun, become charged with a superabundance of heat, and then ON THE END OF TEE WORLD, 101 come near enough to the earth to produce 167° Fahrenheit for six months; then, by the end of that deadly summer, every living or growing thing would have perished—all sounds would have ceased. The earth would roll in silence till new circum- stances should have developed new germs of life; whilst, in the mean time, the cause of the disaster would remain lost in the vast wastes of space, and be separated from our world by many millions of miles. : It is interesting to let the imagination follow such heat as it increases in intensity, and antici- pate its development, action, and effects. Then such questions naturally occur: —Quid during the first day, the second, and so on to the last 2—Quid about air, earth and water, the formation, com- bination, and explosion of gases ?—Quid about man- kind, considered with regard to age or sex, strong or weak P—Quid about the observance of laws, sub- mission to authority, respect of persons and property ? —~Q@uid about the means sought, or attempts made, to escape the danger P—Quid as to the ties of love, friendship or kindred, and as to selfishness or self- sacrifice ?—Quid as to religious sentiment, faith, resignation, hope, and so on ? History can supply us with data as to moral influences in such a case; for the end of the world 10 en .adsiroxouy AS A FINE ART. : os ints hie several times predicted, a par- ticular day even being sometimes specified. Great danger severs all ties. In the great yellow fever which took place in Philadelphia, about the year 1792, husbands were seen shutting on their wives the doors of their marriage homes; children were seen abandoning their fathers, and many other things equally strange— Quod a nobis Deus avertat. XL ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING. I HAVE consulted the dictionaries under the word “ gourmandise,” and am by no means satisfied with what I find. The love of good living seems to be constantly confounded with gluttony and voracity: whence I infer that our lexicographers, however otherwise estimable, are not to be classed with those good fellows amongst learned men who can put away gracefully a wing of partridge and then, by raising the little finger, wash it down with a glass of Lafitte or Clos-Vougeot. They have utterly forgot that social love of good eating which combines in one Athenian elegance, ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING. 103 Roman luxury, and Parisian refinement. It implies discretion to arrange, skill to prepare: it appreci- ates energetically, and judges profoundly. It is a precious quality, almost deserving to rank as a virtue, and is very certainly the source of much unqualified enjoyment. “Gourmandise,” or the love of good living, is an impassioned, rational, and habitual pre- Defini- ference for whatever flatters the sense of tons. taste. It is opposed to excess; therefore every man who eats to indigestion, or makes himself drunk, runs the risk of being erased from the list of its votaries. Gourmandise also comprises a love for dainties or tit-bits, which is merely an analogous preference, limited to light, delicate or small dishes, to pastry, and so forth. It is a modification allowed in favour of the women, or men of feminine tastes. Regarded from any point of view, the love of good living deserves nothing but praise and en- couragement. Physically, it is the result and proof of the digestive organs being healthy and perfect. Morally, it shows implicit resignation to the commands of Nature, who, in ordering man to eat that he may live, gives him appetite to invite, flavour to encourage, and pleasure to reward. From the political economist’s point of view, the 104 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. love of good living is a tie between nations, uniting Its good | them by the interchange of various articles efiects. of food which are in constant use. Hence the voyage from Pole to Pole of wines, sugars, fruits, and so forth. What else sustains the hope and emulation of that crowd of fishermen, huntsmen, gardeners and others, who daily stock the most sumptuous larders with the results of their skill and labour? What else supports the industrious army of cooks, pastry cooks, confectioners, and many other food-preparers, with all their various assist- ants? These various branches of industry derive their support, in a great measure, from the largest incomes, but they also rely upon the daily wants of all classes. As society is at present constituted, it is almost impossible to conceive of a race living solely on bread and vegetables. Such a nation would in- fallibly be conquered by the armies of some flesh- eating race (like the Hindoos, who have been the prey of all those, one after another, who cared to attack them); or else it would be converted by the cooking of the neighbouring nations, as ancient history records of the Beeotians, who acquired a love for good living after the battle of Leuctra. Good living opens out great resources for re- plenishing the public purse; it brings contributions ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING. I05 to town-dues, to the custom-house, and other indirect contributions. Everything we eat is taxed, and there is no exchequer that is not substantially sup- ported by lovers of good living. Shall we speak of that swarm of cooks who have for ages been annually leaving France, to improve foreign nations in the art of good living? Most of them succeed; and, in obedience to an instinct which never dies in a Frenchman’s heart, bring back to their country the fruits of their economy. The sum thus imported is greater than might be supposed, and therefore they, like the others, will be honoured by posterity. But if nations were grateful, then Frenchmen, above all races, ought to raise a temple and altars to “ Gourmandise.” By the treaty of November, 1815, the allies irm- posed upon France the condition of paying ris great thirty millions sterling in three years, influence. besides claims for compensation and various requisi- tions, amounting to nearly as much more. The apprehension, or rather, certainty, became general that a national bankruptcy must ensue, more especially as the money was to be paid in specie. “Alas!” said all who had anything to lose, as they saw the fatal tumbril pass to be filled in the Rue Vivienne, there is cur money emigrating in a 106 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. lump; next year we shall fall on our knees before a crown-piece; we are about to fall into the condition of a ruined man; speculations of every kind will fail : it will be impossible to borrow; there will be nothing but weakness, exhaustion, civil death.” These terrors were proved false by the result; and to the great astonishment of all engaged in financial matters, the payments were made without difficulty, credit rose, loans were "eagerly caught at, and during all the time this © superpurgation ”’ lasted, the balance of exchange was in favour of France. In other words, more money came into the country than went out of it. What is the power that came to our assistance? Who is the divinity that worked this miracle? The love of good living. ‘When the Britons, Germans, Teutons, Cimmerians, and Scythians made their irruption into France, they brought a rare voracity, and stomachs of no ordinary capacity. They did not long remain satis- fied with the official cheer which a forced hospitality had to supply them with. They aspired to enjoy- ments of greater refinement; and soon the Queen City was nothing but a huge refectory. Every- where they were seen eating, those intruders—in the restaurants, the eating-houses, the inns, the taverns, the stalls, and even in the streets. They gorged ‘ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING. 107 themselves with flesh, fish, game, truffles, pastry, and especially with fruit. They drank with an avidity equal to their appetite, and always ordered the most expensive wines, in the hope of finding some enjoyment in them hitherto unknown, and seemed quite astonished when they were dis- appointed. Superficial observers did not know what to think of this menagerie without bounds or limits; but your genuine Parisian laughed and rubbed his hands. “We have them now!” said he; “and to- night theyll have paid us back more than was counted out to them this morning from the public treasury!” That was a lucky time for those who provide for the enjoyments of the sense of taste. Véry made his fortune; Achard laid the foundation of his; Beauvilliers made a third; and Madame Sullot, whose shop in the Palais Royal was a mere box of a place, sold as many as twelve thousand tarts a day. The effect still lasts. Foreigners flow in from all quarters of Europe to renew during peace the delightful habits which they contracted during the war. They must come to Paris, and when they are there, they must be regaled at any price. If our funds are in favour, it is due not so much to the “108 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. higher interest they pay, as to the instinctive con- fidence which foreigners cannot help placing in a people amongst whom every lover of good living finds so much happiness. Love of good living is by no means unbecoming in women. It agrees with the delicacy of their organization, and serves as a compensation for some pleasures which they are obliged to abstain from, and for some hardships to which nature seems to have condemned them. There is no more pleasant sight than a pretty A gourmande under arms. Her napkin is gour- nicely adjusted; one of her hands rests mands Son (NG table, the other carries to her mouth little morsels artistically carved, or the wing of a partridge which must be picked. Her eyes sparkle, her lips are glossy, her talk cheerful, all her movements graceful; nor is there lacking some spice of the coquetry which accompanies all that women do. With so many advantages, she is irre- sistible, and Cato the censor himself could not help yielding to the influence. 3 The love of good living is in some sort instinctive Woricn in women, because it is favourable to like good beauty. It has been proved, by a series es ap rigorously exact observations, that by a succulent, delicate, and choice regimen, the ex- ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING, 109 ternal appearances of age are kept away for a long time. It gives more brilliancy to the eye, more freshness to the skin, more support to the muscles; and, as it is certain in physiology that wrinkles, those formidable enemies of beauty, are caused by the depression of muscle, it is equally true that, other things being equal, those who understand eating are comparatively four years younger than those ignorant of that science. Painters and sculptors are deeply penetrated with this truth, for in representing those who practise abstinence by choice or duty, such as misers or anchorites, they always give them the pallor of disease, the leanness of misery, and the wrinkles of decrepitude. Good living is one of the main links of society, by gradually extending that spirit of con- po viviality by which different classes are upon soci- daily brought closer together and welded Roy. into one whole, by animating the conversation, and rounding off the angles of conventional inequality. To the same eause we can also ascribe all the efforts a host makes to receive his guests properly, as well as their gratitude for his pains so well bestowed. What disgrace should ever be heaped upon those senseless feeders who, with unpardonable indifference, swallow down morsels of the rarest 110 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. quality, or gulp with unrighteous carelessness some fine-flavoured and sparkling wine. As a general maxim: Whoever shows a desire to please will be certain of having a delicate compli- ment paid him by every well-bred man. Again, when shared, the love of good living has the most marked influence on the happi- Effects . oncon- Dess of the conjugal state. A wedded jugal pair, with this taste in common, have once happiness. a day, at least, a pleasant opportunity of meeting. For, even when they sleep apart (and a great many do so), they eat at least at the same table, they have a subject of conversation which is ever new, they speak not only of what they are eating, but also of what they have eaten or will eat, of dishes which are in vogue, of novelties, ete. Everybody knows that a familiar chat is delightful. Music, no doubt, has powerful attractions for those who are fond of it, but one must set about it —it is an exertion. Besides, one sometimes has a cold, the music is mislaid, the instruments are out of tune, one has a fit of the blues, or it is a for- bidden day. Whereas, in the other case, a common want summons the spouses to table, the same inclination keeps them there; they naturally show each other these little attentions as a proof of their wish to oblige, and the mode of conducting their ON THE LOVE OF GOOD LIVING. 111 meals has a great share in the happiness of their lives. This observation, though new in France, has not escaped the notice of Richardson,* the English moralist. He has worked out the idea in his novel, ‘Pamela, by painting the different manner in which two married couples finish their day. The first husband is a lord, an eldest son, and therefore heir to all the family property : the second is his younger brother, the husband of Pamela, who has been disinherited on account of his marriage, and lives on half-pay in a state but little removed from abject poverty. The lord and lady enter their dining-room by different doors, and salute each other coldly, though they have not met the whole day before. Sitting . down at a table which is magnificently covered, surrounded by lackeys in brilliant liveries, they help themselves in silence, and eat without pleasure. As soon, however, ag the servants have withdrawn, a sort of conversation is begun between the pair, which quickly shows a bitter tone, passing into a regular fight, and they rise from the table in a fury * Savarin wrote Fielding’s name here, and it is still retained in all the editions I have seen. This is the more remarkable because Richardson has always been especially esteemed in France, and is still sometimes placed above Goldsmith as an English classic. What horror if the worthy but self-conscious shopkeeper knew that his godless rival had so long usurped the credit of having written Pamela ! 12 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. of anger, and go off to their separate apartments to reflect upon the pleasures of a single life. The younger brother, on the contrary, is, on reaching his unpretentious home, received with a gentle, loving heartiness and the fondest caresses. He sits down to a frugal meal, but everything he eats is excellent; and how could it be otherwise ? It is Pamela herself who has prepared it all. They eat with enjoyment, talking of their affairs, their plans, their love for each other. A half bottle of Madeira serves to prolong their repast and con- versation, and soon after they retire together, to forget in sleep their present hardships, and to dream of a better future. All honour to the love of good living, such as it is the purpose of this book to describe, so long as it does not come between men and their occupations or duties! For, as all the debaucheries of a Sardanapalus cannot bring disrespect upon woman- kind in general, so the excesses of a Vitellius need not make us turn our backs upon a well-appointed banquet. Should the love of good living pass into gluttony, voracity, intemperance, it then loses its name and advantages, escapes from our jurisdiction, and falls within that of the moralist to ply it with good counsel, or of the physician, who will cure it by his remedies. {gen XII ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. THERE are individuals to whom nature has denied a refinement of organs, or a continuity of attention, without which the most succulent dishes pass un- observed. Physiology has already recognized the first of these varieties, by showing us the tongue of these unhappy ones, badly furnished with nerves for inhaling and appreciating flavours. These excite in them but an obtuse sentiment; such persons are, with regard to objects of taste, what the blind are with regard to light. The second class are the absent-minded, chatterboxes, persons engrossed in business or ambition, and others who seek to occupy themselves with two things at once, and eat only to be filled. Such, for example, was Napoleon; he was irre- gular in his meals, and ate fast and badly. id But there, again, was to be traced that absolute will which he carried into everything he ple. did. The moment appetite was felt it was necessary that it should be satisfied, and his establishment was so arranged that, in any place and at any hour I 114 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. chicken, cutlets, and coffee might be forthcoming at a word.* Predesti- There is a privileged class of persons an who are summoned to the enjoyments of of good taste by a physical and organic predis- Enies position. I have always believed in physiognomy and phrenology. Men have inborn tendencies; and since there are some who come into the world seeing, hearing, and walking badly, because they are short-sighted, deaf, or cripple, why should there not be others who are specially predisposed to ex- perience a certain series of sensations? Moreover, even an ordinary observer will constantly discover faces which bear the unmistakeable imprint of a ruling passion—such as superciliousness, self-satis- faction, misanthropy, sensuality, and many others. Sometimes, no doubt, we meet with a face that expresses nothing ; but when the physiognomy has a marked stamp it is almost always a true index. The passions act upon the muscles, and frequently, although a man says nothing, the various feelings # French writers frequently refer to the eating habits of Napoleon. Thus, the drawn battle of Borodino (preceding the Moscow disaster), and his great defeat at Leipsic, are both ex- plained to have been partly due to attacks of indigestion, the special cause in the latter instance being, it is said, a hurried feed upon shoulder of mutton stuffed with onicns. ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 115 by which he is moved can be read in his face. By this tension, if in the slightest degree habitual, perceptible traces are at last left, and the physio- gnomy thus assumes its permanent and recognizable characteristics. Those predisposed to epicurism are for the most part of middling height. They BRR broad-faced, and have bright eyes, small paturanty forehead, short nose, fleshy lips, and Predis- posed. rounded chin. The women are plump, chubby, pretty rather than beautiful, with a slight tendency to fulness of figure. It is under such an exterior that we must look for agreeable guests. They accept all that is offered them, eat without hurry, and taste with discrimin- ation. They never make any haste to get away from houses where they have been well treated, but stay for the evening, because they know all the games and other after-dinner amusements. Those, on the contrary, to whom nature has denied an aptitude for the enjoyments of taste, are long-faced, long-nosed, and long-eyed: whatever their stature, they have something lanky about them. They have dark, lanky hair, and are never in good condition. It was one of them who in- vented trousers. The women whom nature has afflicted with the 116 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. same misfortune are angular, feel themselves bored at table, and live on cards and scandal. This theory of mine can be verified by each ‘Acta reader from his own personal observation. instance. J ghall give an instance from my own experience. Sitting one day at a grand banquet, I had oppo- site me a very pretty neighbour, whose face showed the predisposition I have described. Leaning to the guest beside me, I said quietly that, from her physiognomy, the young lady on the other side of the table must be fond of good eating. “You must be mad!” he answered ; “she is but fifteen, at most, which is certainly not the age for such a thing. However, let us watch.” At first, things were by no means in my favour, and I was somewhat afraid of having compromised myself, for during the first two courses, the young lady quite astonished me by her discretion, and 1 suspected we had stumbled upon an exception, remembering that there are some for every rule. But at last the dessert came—a dessert both magni- ficent and abundant—and my hopes were again revived. Nor did TI hope in vain: not only did she eat of all that was offered her, but she even got dishes brought to her from the furthest parts of the table. In a word, she tasted everything, and my ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 117 neighbour at last expressed his astonishment that the little stomach could hold so many things. Thus was my diagnosis verified, and once again science triumphed. Whilst I was writing the above, on a fine winter's evening, M. Cartier, formerly the first violinist at the Opera, paid me a visit, and sat down at the fire- side. Being full of my subject, I said, after looking at him attentively for some time, “How does it happen, my dear professor, that you are no epicure, when you have all the features of one?” “I was one,” he replied, “ and among the foremost; but now I refrain.” “On principle, I suppose?” said I; but all the answer I had was a sigh, like one of Sir Walter Scott’s—that is to say, almost a groan. As some are gourmands by predestination, so others become so by their state in s0- Who are gour- mands classes which I should signalize by way of from their condition eminence: the moneyed class, the doctors, op. men of letters, and the devout. fession. Inequality of condition implies inequality of wealth, but inequality of wealth does not imply in- ciety or their calling. There are four equality of wants ; and he who can afford every day a dinner sufficient for a hundred persons, is often satisfied by eating the thigh of a chicken. Hence the necessity for the many devices of art to reani- 118 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. mate that ghost of an appetite by dishes which maintain it without injury, and caress without stifling it. The causes which act upon doctors are very dif- ferent, though not less powerful. They become epi- cures in spite of themselves, and must be made of bronze to resist the seductive power of circumstances. The “dear doctor” is all the more kindly wel- comed that health is the most precious of boons; and thus they are always waited for with impatience and received with eagerness. Some are kind to them from hope, others from gratitude. They are fed like pet pigeons. They let things take their course, and in six months the habit is confirmed, and they are gourmands past redemption. I ventured one day to express this opinion at a banquet in which, with eight others, I took a part, with Dr. Corvisart at the head of the table. It was about the year 1806. “You!” cried I, with the inspired tone of a Puri- tan preacher; “you are the last remnant of a body which formerly covered the whole of France. Alas! its members are annihilated or widely scattered. No more fermiers-generaux, no abbés, or knights, or white-coated friars. The members of your profession constitute the whole gastronomic body. Sustain ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 119 with firmness that great responsibility, even if you must share the fate of the three hundred Spartans at the Pass of Thermopylee.” At the same dinner I observed the following noteworthy fact. The doctor, who, when in the mood, was a most agreeable companion, drank nothing but iced champagne, and therefore, in the earlier part of the dinner, whilst others were engaged in eating, he kept talking loudly and telling stories. But at dessert, on the contrary, and when the gene- ral conversation began to be lively, he became serious, silent, and sometimes low-spirited. From this observation, confirmed by many others, I have deduced the following theorem: ¢Cham- pagne, though at first exhilarating, ultimately pro- ? duces stupefying effects; ” a result, moreover, which is a well-known characteristic of the carbonic acid which it contains. Whilst I have the university doctors under my grasp, I must, before I die, reproach them , Taio with the extreme severity which they use to the towards their patients. As soon as one has Bully the misfortune to fall into their hands, he must undergo a whole litany of prohibitions, and give up everything that he is accustomed to think agreeable. I rise up to oppose such interdictions, as being for the most part useless. I say useless, because the patient never longs for what is hurtful. 120 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. A doctor of judgment will never lose sight of the instinctive tendency of our inclinations, or forget that if painful sensations are naturally fraught with danger, those which are pleasant have a healthy tendency. We have seen a drop of wine, a cup of coffee, or a thimbleful of liqueur, call up a smile to the most Hippocratic face.* Those severe prescribers must, moreover, know very well that their prescriptions remain almost always without result. The patient tries to evade the duty of taking them; those about him easily find a good excuse for humouring him, and thus his death is neither hastened nor retarded. In 1815, the medical allowance of a sick Russian would have made a drayman drunk, and that of an Englishman was enough for a “ Limousin.” Nor was any diminution possible, for there were military inspectors constantly going round our hospitals to examine the supply and consumption. I am the more confident in announcing my opinion because it is based upon numerous facts, and the most successful practitioners have used a system closely resembling it. Canon Rollet, who died some fifty years ago, was * This phrase shows a trace of Savarin’s medical studies. The Latin form of it, facies Hippocratica, is more recognizable—a term applied to the peculiar look which betokens the near approach of death, first accurately described by Hippocrates. ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 121 a hard drinker, according to the custom of those days. He fell ill, and the doctor’s first words were a prohibition of wine in any form. On his very next visit, however, our physician found beside the bed of his patient the corpus delicti itself: to wit, a table covered with a snow-white cloth, a crystal cup, a handsome-looking bottle, and a napkin to wipe the lips. At this sight he flew into a violent passion, and spoke of leaving the house, when the wretched canon cried to him, in tones of lamentation, “ Ah, doctor, remember that, in forbidding me to drink, ‘you have not forbidden me the pleasure of looking at the bottle!” ~ The physician who treated Montlusin of Pont de Veyle was still more severe, for not only did he for- bid the use of wine to his patient, but also prescribed large doses of water. Shortly after the doctor’s de- parture, Madame Montlusin, anxious to give full effect to the medical orders and assist in the recovery of her husband’s health, offered him a large glass of the finest and clearest water. The patient took it with docility, and began to drink it with resignation; but stopping short at the first mouthful, he handed back the glass to his wife. “Take it, my dear,” said he, “and keep it for another time ; I have always heard it said that we should not trifle with remedies.” 122 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. In the domain of gastronomy, the men of letters are near neighbours to the doctors. A hundred Menof years ago, literary men were all hard letters. drinkers. They followed the fashion, and the memoirs of the period are quite edifying on that subject. At the present day they are gas- tronomes, and it is a step in the right direction. I by no means agree with the cynical Geoffroy, who used to say that if our modern writings are weak, it is because literary men now drink nothing stronger than lemonade. The present age is rich in talents, and the very number of books probably interferes with their proper appreciation; but pos- terity, being more calm and judicial, will see amongst them much to admire, just as we our- selves have done justice to the master-pieces of Racine and Moliere, which were received by their contemporaries with coldness. Never has the social position of men of letters been more pleasant than at present. They no longer live in wretched garrets; the fields of litera- ture are become more fertile, and even the study of the Muses has become productive. Received on an equality in any rank of life, they no longer wait for patronage; and to fill up their cup of happi- ness, good living bestows upon them its dearest favours. ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 123 Men of letters are invited because of the good opinion men have of their talents; because their conversation has, generally speaking, something piquant in it, and also because, now, every dinner party must, as a matter of course, have its literary man. Those gentlemen always arrive a little late, but are welcomed, because expected. They are treated as favourites, so that they may come again, and regaled that they may shine; and as they find all this very natural, by being accustomed to it they become, are, and remain, gastronomes. Finally, amongst the most faithful in the ranks of gastronomy, we must reckon many of the The devout—i.e., those spoken of by Louis 477 XIV. and Moliére, whose religion consists in out- ward show—nothing to do with those who are really pious and charitable. Let us consider how this comes about. Of those who wish to secure their salvation, the greater number try to find the most pleasant road. Men who flee from society, sleep on the ground, and wear hair-cloth next the skin, have always been, and must ever be, only exceptions. Now, there are certain things unquestionably to be condemned, and on no account to be indulged in—as balls, theatres, gambling, and other similar amusements; and 124 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. whilst they, and all that practise them, are to be hated, good living presents itself insinuatingly in a thoroughly orthodox guise. By right divine, man is king of nature, and all that the earth produces was created for him. It is for him that the quail is fattened, for him that Mocha possesses so agreeable an aroma, for him that sugar has such wholesome properties. How, then, neglect to use, within reasonable limits, the good things which Providence presents to us, especially if we continue to regard them as things that perish with the using, especially if they raise our thank- fulness towards the author of all. Other equally strong reasons come to strengthen these. Can we be too hospitable in receiving those who have charge of our souls, and keep us in the way of safety? Should those meetings, with so excellent an object, not be made pleasant, and there- fore frequent ? Sometimes, also, the gifts of Comus arrive un- sought—perhaps a souvenir of college days, a present from an old friend, a peace-offering from a penitent, or a college-chum recalling himself to one’s memory. How refuse to accept such offerings, or to make systematic use of them? It is simply a necessity. The monasteries were real magazines of charming ON PEOPLE FOND OF GOOD LIVING. 125 dainties,* which is one reason why certain connois- seurs so bitterly regret them. Several of the monastic grders, especially that of St. Bernard, made a profession of good cheer. The limits of gastronomic art have been extended by the cooks of the clergy, and when M. de Pressigni (afterwards Archbishop of Besangon) returned from the Conclave at the election of Pius VL, he said that the best dinner he had had in Rome was at the table of the head of the Capucins. We cannot conclude this article better than by honourably mentioning two classes of men , .. whom we have seen in all their glory, and and whom the Revolution has eclipsed—the ii chevaliers and the abbés. How they enjoyed good living, those dear old fellows! That could be told at a glance by their nervous nostrils, their clear eyes, their moist lips and mobile tongues. Each class had, at the same time, its own special manner of eating—the chevalier having something military * ¢The best French liqueurs were made at La Cote by the Visitandine nuns; those of Niort invented Angelica preserves; those of Chéteau-Thierry are famous for their orange-flower cakes; and at the Ursuline nunnery in my native town they had a receipt for pickled walnuts which was a treasure of enjoyment and toothsomeness.’ ‘I fear, alas!’ adds Savarin, pathetically, with reference to the Revolution and its results, ‘that it is now lost. 126 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. and dignified in his air and attitude, while the abbé gathered himself together, as it were, to be nearer his plate, with his right hand curved inwards like the paw of a cat drawing chestnuts from the fire, whilst in every feature was shown enjoyment, and a certain indefinable look of close attention. So far from good living being hurtful to health, it has been arithmetically proved by Dr. Long life . ; : tothe Villermé, in an able paper read before the Académie des Sciences, that, other things being equal, the gourmands live longer than ordinary men. Not that those who live well are never ill ; alas! they, also, sometimes fall under the dominion of the faculty; but as they have a large dose of vitality, and all parts of the organism in better condition, nature has more resources, and the body has beyond comparison a better chance of resisting destruction. This fact of physiology is also supported by his- tory, which informs us that whenever the means of living are diminished by such imperious circum- stances as war, a siege, or a bad season, that state of distress has always been accompanied by contagious diseases and a large increase of the death-rate. M. du Belloy, Archbishop of Paris, who lived nearly a century, had a remarkable appetite. He loved good living, and I have several times seen his GASTRONOMIC TESTS. 127 patriarchal countenance lighten up at the arrival of some famous dish. He was invariably treated by Napoleon with marked deference and respect. XIIL GASTRONOMIC TESTS. In the preceding chapter we have seen that the distinctive characteristic of those who have more pretention than right to the honours of good living consists in this: that, with the best cheer in the world before them, their eyes remain dull and their faces expressionless. Such men do not deserve to have treasures lavished upon them of which they feel not the value, and we have therefore sought for a means of designating them, and so classifying the guests at any table. By gastronomic tests or gauges we mean dishes of acknowledged flavour, and of such indisputable excellence that the mere sight of them, to a man of healthy organization, moves every faculty of taste ; so that men whose faces, under such circum- stances, neither lighten up with desire nor beam with ecstasy, may justly be noted as unworthy the honours of the sitting and its concomitant pleasures. 128 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. The testing-power of such criteria being relative, they must be suited to the capacities and habits of the different classes of society. Calculated to pro- voke admiration and wonder, a test is a dynamo- meter, whose power increases in proportion as we rise higher in the strata of society. Thus, a test in- tended for the small householder would have little reference to a head clerk, and not the slightest appli- cation to a select dinner party at a capitalist’s or diplomatist’s. In the enumeration we are about to make of the dishes which have been raised to the dignity of tests, we shall begin with those that are of lowest force, and enumerate the others in order as they rise gradually in the scale. A friend has suggested the consideration of nega- tive tests; as, for example, the accident of the miscarriage of some rare dish,* or the non-arrival of %# A good illustration of the negative test is an anecdote oc- curring in an article on gastronomy in the Quarterly Review. Cardinal Fesch had invited a large party of clerical magnates to dinner. By a fortunate coincidence, two fine turbots had arrived as presents on the very morning of the feast, and the cardinal was anxious to have the credit of both. “Be of good faith, your eminence,” said the chef, on being consulted, ¢ both shall appear; both shall enjoy the reception which is their due.” Dinner was served : one of the turbots relieved the soup, and delight was on every face. It was the moment of the positive test. The maitre d’hotel advances, two attendants raise the turbot, when one slips, and both men, with their precious burden, roll upon the floor. At GASTRONOMIC TESTS. 129 an important country hamper, whether the accident be real or feigned ; might one not note the different degrees of regret or annoyance stamped upon the faces of the guests at such tiresome news, and so de- vise a good criterion of their gastronomic sensibility ? This proposal, however, though very attractive at the first glance, could not stand a thorough exami- nation. We have seen that such an occurrence, though only superficially affecting the undeveloped organs of the ordinary outsiders, might, in the case of the initiated and true believers, be dangerous, if not positively even fatal. We proceed now to give the list of dishes which, in our opinion, are suitable to serve as gastronomic tests, classifying them into three series, arranged in an ascending scale, A large fillet of veal well larded with bacon, and done in its own gravy; a country-fed For an turkey stuffed with chestnuts; fattened income £ pigeons larded, and cooked to correspond ; @ eggs dressed a la neige; a dish of sauerkraut bristling with sausages, and crowned with a piece of good bacon. this sad sight the assembled cardinals became pale as death, and solemn silence reigned in the conclave. It was the moment of the negative test. “ Bring another turbot,” said the maitre d’hétel, with perfect coolness. The second appeared, and the positive test was gloriously renewed. KX 130 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. (Remarks: “By Jove! that looks well. Come on! we must do it honour.”) A choice fillet of beef larded, done in its own Foran 8TaVy; a quarter of venison; sauce, hachée income qua cornichons ; a turbot boiled whole; a i 2 prime leg of mutton, & la provencale ; a turkey done with truffles ; early green peas. (Remarks: “My dear fellow, what a delightful sight! That dish is worthy of a wedding feast or a banquet !”) An enormous fowl stuffed to repletion with Péri- gord truffles; a huge Strasbourg paté-de- For an income of foe-gras, in the shape of a bastion ; a large £1200 a year. carp, richly prepared ; trufled quails with marrow, served on buttered toast, aw basilic; a river pike larded, stuffed, and smothered in a cream of prawns, secundum artem; a pheasant in proper season, larded en foupet, a la sainte alliance; one hundred early asparagus, each half-an-inch thick, with sauce a losmazome ; two dozen ortolans a la provengale; a pyramid of vanilla and rose, meringue-cake—a test sometimes useless, unless in the case of ladies and abbés, ete. (Remarks: “Ah, my dear sir (or my lord, ete.) what a genius that cook ofyours is! It is only at your table that one meets such dishes.”) In order to be sure of any test producing its full GASTRONOMIC TESTS. 131 effect, it must be served on an ample scale. Ex- perience, founded on the knowledge of the human race, has taught us that the rarest of savoury dishes loses its influence when not in exuberant proportion. The first impression which it excites on a guest is naturally checked by the dread of being stingily served, or being obliged even, out of politeness, to decline. I have several times verified the effect of gas- tronomic tests. Thus, once I was present at a dinner of gastronomes of the fourth of their category—all being divines but my friend Seats: R. and myself. After a magnificent first course, there was brought to table, amongst other things, an enormous fowl, stuffed with truffles almost to burst- ing, and a Gibraltar of a Strasbourg paté-de-foie-gras. This apparition produced upon the company a marked effect, though indescribable, somewhat resembling the “silent laugh” of Cooper. In fact, all conversation was stopped, so great was the sen- sation, and every guest’s attention was riveted upon the skilful operations of the carvers; and as soon as the serving was over, the faces of all, one after another, were seen to beam with an ecstasy of enjoyment, the perfect repose of bliss, 132 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART, xy. THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. Or all the creatures that have senses, man is incon- testably that which undergoes the most suffering. This decree of destiny has been, in its fulfilment, aggravated by a host of maladies produced by the habits of social life ; so much so, that the most keen and enjoyable pleasure we can imagine cannot, either in intensity or duration, make up for the atrocious pain which accompanies certain disorders, such as gout, toothache, acute rheumatism, stran- gury, or that caused by the severity of punishment practised in some countries. Owing to this practical dread of pain, man, even without being aware of it, throws himself by a strong reaction in the opposite direction, and gives himself up to the few pleasures allotted him by Nature. Hence, also, he increases them, lengthens them, modifies them—in a word, worships them; for in the idolatrous ages, and for a long series of generations, all the pleasures were secondary divinities, presided over by the superior gods. It is true that the severity of more modern religions has destroyed all those patrons, and Bacchus, THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 133 Cupid, Comus, and Diana no longer exist, except in poetical tradition or memory; but the thing still exists, and, under the most serious of all forms of belief, men carouse at a marriage, a baptism, and even a funeral. Meals or repasts, in the sense which we give to the word, took their rise in the second era of the human race, or as soon as fruits ceased to be man’s principal food. The preparation and distribution of the meat rendered a meeting of the family necessary, the heads distributing to the children the product of the chase, and the adult children in their turn rendering the same service to their aged parents. Such meetings, at first limited to near relations, gradually came to include neighbours and friends. At a later period, when men became more widely spread, the weary traveller found a seat at those primitive repasts, and repaid them with tales of distant countries. Hence the origin of hospitality and its rights, held sacred smongst all races; for there is none, however savage, that does not hold it a duty to respect the life of him with whom bread and salt have been shared. Such, from the nature of things, must have been the rudiments of the pleasures of the table, Tp which must be carefully distinguished distinc from its necessary antecedent, the pleasure Ho of eating. 134 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. The pleasure of eating is the present and direct’ sensation of a want being satisfied; the pleasure of the table implies reflection, being due to the various surroundings, such as the place, the guests, what- ever is said or seen during the repast. The pleasure of eating is common to us with the animals : it merely supposes hunger, and that which is necessary to satisfy it. The pleasure of the table is peculiar to the human species: it implies that care is bestowed beforehand upon preparing the repast, choosing the place, and assembling the guests. The pleasure of eating requires, if not hunger, at least appetite ; the pleasure of the table is often independent of both. The distinction between those two modes of enjoyment is seen at our banquets. At the first course, every one eats eagerly, without speaking, without attending to anything said; and, whatever the guest’s social rank may be, he only thinks of doing yeoman’s service in the general work. But, when the natural wants are satisfied, reflection arises, talk is interchanged, a new order of things takes place; and he who has hitherto been a mere eater, becomes a guest more or less agreeable, according to the means bestowed upon him by the Master of all things. The pleasure of the table does not consist in THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 135 transports of ecstasies; but it gains in duration what is lost in intensity, and is especially Some distinguished by a peculiar privilege of effects: disposing us to all the other pleasures, or consoling us for their loss. In fact, both body and soul are specially conscious of well-being after a good dinner. Physically, whilst the brain is enlivened, the face brightens, the colour rises, the eyes sparkle, a pleasant warmth is diffused in every part. Morally, the wits are sharpened, the imagination warms, and the con- versation becomes cheerful and humorous. Moreover, we frequently find brought together round the same table all the modifications intro- duced amongst us by a highly developed sociability: as love, friendship, business, theories, influence, solicitations, patronage, ambition, intrigue. Hence conviviality concerns everything ; hence it produces fruits of all flavours. One immediate result of those antecedents is, that all the ingenuity of man has been NE concentrated upon the object of increas- accesso- ing and intensifying the pleasure of the Pe table. Poets have complained that the neck is, from its shortness, a hindrance to the duration of the pleasure of tasting. Others have lamented the 136 ~~ GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. small capacity of the stomach, and some have even spared it the duty of digesting the first meal, in order to have the pleasure of swallowing a second. That was the boldest attempt made to increase the enjoyments of the palate. But, being unable to cross in that direction the limits fixed by Nature, men directed their ingenuity upon the accessories, which at least presented more scope. They used flowers to adorn the vases and glasses, to crown the guests: they ate under the vault of heaven, in gardens, in groves, in presence of all the marvels of nature. To the pleasure of the table were joined the charms of music and the sound of instruments. Thus, whilst the court of the King of the Pheacians were feasting, Phemius, the minstrel, celebrated the deeds and warriors of bygone times. Often, too, dancers, jugglers, and comic actors, of both sexes and every costume, came to engage the eye without lessening the enjoyment of the table; the most exquisite perfumes were shed around ; and sometimes, even, the guests were waited upon by beauty unveiled. I could easily fill pages to prove these state- ments. There are the Greek and Latin authors, there are our ancient histories at hand to copy from; but as the researches have already been THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 13% made, I simply give as facts what others have already proved. In addition to the former modes of gastronomic gratification, we have adopted recent dis- ,o.. coveries. There is no doubt the delicacy 19th cen- of our manners could not suffer the Roman *“"¢* practice of using vomitories, but we have dome better, and reach the same end by a method allowed by good taste. We have invented dishes so attrac- tive that they unceasingly renew the appetite ; yet they are at the same time so light that they flatter the palate without loading the stomach. Seneca would have called them nubes esculentas. In gastronomic progress, indeed, we have arrived at such a point, that if the calls of business did not force us to rise from the table, or the want of sleep interpose, the duration of our repasts would be almost unlimited ; and there would be no fixed data for finding what time might elapse between the first glass of Madeira and the last tumbler of punch.* It must not be thought, however, that all these accessories are necessary to constitute the pleasure of the table. That pleasure is realized almost com- pletely as often as we combine the four conditions # Malleyrand is said to have introduced into France the custom of taking Parmesan with soup and Madeira after it. 138 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. of — cheer at least passable, good wine, pleasant companions, and plenty of time. Thus, I have often wished to have shared the frugal meal to which Horace speaks of inviting a neighbour, or a casual guest whom bad weather has driven to his house to seek shelter; to wit, a fine fowl and a young kid (in good condition, of course), with a dessert of raisins, figs, and nuts. What with these, and some wine of the Manlius vintage (“nata mecum Consule Manlio”), and the conversa- tion of the Epicurean poet, I should have been sure of a most enjoyable supper. But then, If a long-absent friend came to see me again, Or a neighbour stepped in of a day, when the wet Stopped all work out of doors, they were handsomely met, Not with fish from the town, but with pullet and kid, With a good bunch of grapes for dessert, laid amid A handful of nuts, and some figs of the best. Then we drank, each as much as he felt had a zest. TrEOD. MARTIN'S “ Horace.” In the same way, half-a-dozen friends may regale on a leg of mutton and a kidney, washed down with some Orléans and excellent Médoc, and spend the evening in talk, full of the most delightful freedom, and in complete forgetfulness of finer dishes or more skilful cookery. If, on the other hand, the wine is bad, the guests brought together without care or discrimination, THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 139 the faces gloomy, and the dinner eaten hurriedly, then there can be no pleasure at the table, how- ever choice may be the good cheer, and however sumptuous the accessories. But, the impatient reader will probably exclaim, how, then, in this present year of grace, is a dinner to be regulated so as to bring together all the requisites necessary to the highest pleasures of the table ? I proceed to answer this question. Prepare your minds, my readers, and give attention; it is from Gasterea,* fairest of the Muses, that I receive inspiration. I shall be more easily understood than an oracle, and my precepts will live through future ages. “Let the number of the guests not exceed twelve, so that the conversation may be constantly general. : “Let them be chosen so that their occupations are various, their tastes analogous, and with such points of contact that there will be no need for the odious formality of introductions. “ Let the dining-room be brilliantly lighted, the cloth spotless, and the atmosphere at a temperature of from sixty to sixty-eight degrees of Fahrenheit. " * The poetical notion of a tenth Muse is more fully developed in the last chapter of the book. The importance of Gastronomy, artistically or ssthetically, no doubt gave it in our author’s eyes a better claim for such a patroness than, say, History. 140 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. % Let the men have wit without pretention, and the women be pleasant without being coquettes. “ Let the dishes be exceedingly choice, but small in number: and the wines of the first quality, each in its degree. “ Let the order of serving be from the more sub- stantial dishes to those that are lighter; and from the simpler wines to those of finer flavour. “ Let the eating proceed without hurry or bustle, since the dinner is the last business of the day; and let the guests look upon themselves as travellers about to reach the same destination together. “Let the coffee be hot and the liqueurs chosen with particular care. “Let the drawing-rcom to which the guests retire be large enough te admit of a game of cards for those who cannot do without it, while leaving ample scope for after-dinner chat. « Let the guests be detained by the social enjoy- ment, and animated with the hope that, before the evening is over, there is still some pleasure in store. “ Let the tea be not too strong, the toast artisti- cally buttered, and the punch skilfully made. “ Let nobody leave before eleven o'clock. and everybody be in bed by twelve.” Whoever has been guest at a repast combining all these conditions, can boast of having taken a part THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 141 at his own apotheosis; and his enjoyment will have been in proportion to the number of conditions that have been duly fulfilled. I have already said that the pleasure of the table, such as I have described it, is susceptible of being prolonged. That I now proceed to prove by giving a true and exact account of the longest repast I ever made in my life, which I present to the reader as a little treat for his courteous attention. On the outskirts of the Rue du Bac there was a house I used to visit often, and was always rj; . most kindly received by the family, who tive were composed as follows: the doctor, *2¢°dt aged seventy-eight; the captain, seventy-six; and their sister, seventy-four. “By Jove!” cried the doctor one day, rising on tip-toe to slap me on the shoulder; “you have for a long time been bragging about your fondues (eggs beaten up with cheese), and making our mouths water, it is time to put a stop to that sort of thing. We will come and lunch with you some day, the captain and I, and see what the dish is like.” (It is now about twenty-four years since he thus teased me.) “With all my heart!” said I; “and you will have one in all its glory, for I shall make it myself. I am delighted with your proposal. So to-morrow at ten—military punctuality.” 142 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. Punctual to the minute, I saw my guests arrive, clean shaven, their hair fresh from the barber; two little old men, still hale and hearty. They smiled with delight on seeing the table laid for three, and at each plate two dozen oysters with a bright golden lemon. At each end of the table stood a bottle of Sauterne, carefully wiped, all except the cork, which showed unmistakeably that it was long since the wine had been bottled. Alas! I have lived to see nearly the last of those cheerful luncheons, once so common, where oysters were swallowed by thousands. They dis- appeared with the abbés, who always ate at least a gross, and the chevaliers, who never stopped. I regret them, but it is as a philosopher; if time modifies governments, how great must have been its influence upon the simple social usages! After the oysters, which were found quite fresh, the servant brought to table some roasted kidneys, a jar of truffled foie-gras, and, last of all, the fondue. The constituents were all together in a saucepan, which was placed on the table over a chafing-dish, heated with spirits of wine. I commenced opera- tions, and not a single one of my evolutions on the field of battle was lost sight of by my guests. They were loud in their praises of my success, and asked to have the recine, which I promised, at the THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 143 same time telling them two tales that hang thereby, also told to the reader in another chapter. After the fondue came the fruits of the season, and sweets, with a cup of genuine Mocha, done a la Dubelloy * (a mode then coming into fashion); finishing off with two liqueurs, one a spirit, to clear, and the other an oil, to soothe. The luncheon well over, I proposed to my guests, by way of a slight exercise, to show them over my house, which, without being sumptuous, is roomy and comfortable. One thing particularly pleased them —that the ceilings and gildings date from the reign of Louis XV. I showed them the original cast of the bust of my pretty cousin, Madame Récamier,i by Chinard, and her portrait in miniature by Augustin. With these they were so charmed that the doctor with his big lips kissed the portrait, and the captain was proceeding to take the same liberty with the bust, for which I boxed his ears; for if every * To treat Mocha & la Dubelloy, according to Savarin, pour boiling water on the coffee, placed in a vase pierced with very small holes, and then, after heating the decoction thus run through almost to the boiling point, pour it again into the vase, and the result is clear, strong, and beautiful. + This name may recal a Madame Récamier of whom Sainte- Beuve gives a beautiful picture in his ¢ Causeries’ for 1851. Had there been a French edition of our Author, with notes by some man of letters, we should probably have known in what degree, if any, Savarin’s cousin was related to her namesake, the accom- plished friend of Chateaubriand, 144 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. admirer of the original were to do the same, that lovely bosom would soon share the fate of the big- toe of St. Peter’s statue at Rome, which the pilgrims have shortened by dint of kissing. I afterwards showed them some casts of the best ancient sculptures, some paintings, by no means despicable ; my guns, my musical instruments, and some fine editions of French and foreign books. In this voyage of discovery they did not forget the kitchen, where I showed my economical stock- pot, my roasting-oven, my clockwork turnspit, and my steam vapourizer. They examined everything most minutely, being the more astonished, because in their own house the arrangements were all as they had been during the Regency. The very instant we returned to the drawing- room it struck two o'clock. “Confound it!” cried the doctor; “there’s our dinner-time, and sister Jeannette must be waiting for us. It is not that I feel hungry, but I don’t like to miss my soup. It is so old a habit, that if I let a day pass without it, I say; like Titus, ¢ diem perdidi.’” “My dear doctor,” said I, “why go so far to find what you have close at hand? I shall send some one to tell your sister that you are staying a little longer at my house, to do me the pleasure of dining here. You must, however, make allowances, as the dinner will not compare with a got-up impromptu.” THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 145 This produced between the two brothers an ocular consultation, followed by formal consent. I despatched the message to the Faubourg St. Germain, at the same time giving the hint to my major-domo of the kitchen; and after a very rea- sonable interval, what with his own resources, and what with those of the neighbouring restaurants, he served us up a little dinner well dressed and thoroughly to our taste. It gave me special satisfaction to see the calm self-possession with which my two friends took their places at the table, unfolded their napkins, and made ready to begin. They had two surprises of which I myself had not thought—Parmesan served with the soup, and a glass of dry Madeira after. These were two novelties lately imported by Prince Talleyrand, the first of our diplomatists, to whom we owe so many wise and witty sayings, and who, as a public man, has always attracted special atten- tion, whether in power or retirement. The dinner was a decided success, as well in substantials as in accessories, and my friends were excellent company. Dinner over, I proposed a game of cards, which my guests declined—preferring, as the captain said, the far niente of the Italians—and we accordingly seated ourselves around the fireplace. Thinking, L 146 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. however, that, in spite of the pleasures of the dolce far niente, there is nothing that more enhances the enjoyment of conversation than something to occupy without engrossing the attention, I proposed a cup of tea. My guests accepted the offer, though tea was then quite a novelty for Frenchmen of the old stock. I made it before them, and they drank two or three cups, with all the more pleasure that they had always understood it was merely a kind of medicine. A long experience has taught me that kindness begets kindness, and that as soon as one concession, is made to friendship, others are inevitable. There- fore, in a tone almost imperative, I said we should finish off with a bowl of punch. “Why, you'll be the death of me!” cried the doctor. “Are you going to make us drunk?” said the captain. My only answer was shouting, as loudly as I could, for lemons, sugar, and rum. While mixing the punch, I ordered some thin toast and salt butter to be got ready, in spite of the declaration of my guests. They said they could not touch it; but knowing the attractions of that simple dish, I said the only thing I was afraid of was that there might not be enough. And true enough, seeing the captain glance in a short time at the empty dish, I had another supply brought. THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE. 147 Meanwhile, time had passed away, and the clock showed it was late. “We really must be off; our poor sister has not seen us all day, and we should be in time to have a bit of salad with her at supper- time.” I made no objection, and faithful to my duty as host of two pleasant old friends, I accom- panied them to their carriage and saw them leave. Should you ask if, during so long a sitting, we at any time felt at all bored, I answer with a decided “ No.” The attention of my guests was kept awake by the preparation of the fondue, by our voyage over my house, by some novelties in the dinner, by the tea, and, above all, by the punch, which they had never before tasted. Besides, the doctor knew the whole of Paris by gencalogies and anecdotes ; the captain had spent part of his life in Italy, either in the army or as an envoy at the Court of Parma; and I myself have travelled a great deal. We talked in an easy, natural flow, and took pleasure in hearing each other. What more is needed to make time pass agreeably and quickly ? Next morning I had a note from the doctor to say that the little debauch of the previous evening had done them no harm, but that, on the contrary, after a night of pleasant sleep they got up fresh, quite disposed and ready to begin anew. 148 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. XY, HALTS OF A HUNTING PARTY. Or all a man’s experiences in which eating reckons as important, one of the most agreeable un- doubtedly is the resting-time of a hunting party. Of all known interludes, it alone does not become tiresome, however much prolonged. After several hours of exercise, the most vigorous hunter feels a want of rest. His face has been caressed by the morning breeze, he has exerted his skill as opportunity offered, the sun is near the highest point of its course; therefore the hunter proceeds to make a halt of several hours, not from excess of fatigue, but from that impulse of instinct by which we are warned that all energy is limited. Some shade attracts him, the turf receives him, and the murmur-of a neighbouring fountain invites him to dip in it the flask intended to quench his thirst. Thus placed, he brings forth with a calm satisfaction the small, golden-crusted rolls, unfolds the cold chicken stowed in his bag by a loving hand, arranging all beside the nugget of fine old cheese which is destined to figure as his dessert. During these preparations, the hunter is not HALTS OF A HUNTING PARTY. 149 alone; he is accompanied by the faithful animal which heaven has created for his use. Crouched before him, the dog looks affectionately at his master; having been fellow-workers, they under- stand each other. They are two friends, and the servant is both happy and proud of being his master's guest. Their appetite is of a quality unknown both to the worldly and the devout; to the former because they never give hunger time to come, and to the latter because they never give themselves up to the exercises that produce it. The repast has been taken with delight. Each has had his share, and all is completed comfortably and peacefully. Why should one not take a few minutes sleep ? Noon is the hour of rest. Those simple pleasures are increased tenfold if shared by several friends. For then a more abun- dant repast is forthcoming, and they talk gaily of the feats of one, the blunders of another, and their hopes for the rest of the day. What would it be, then, if attentive servants came, loaded with those vases consecrated to Bacchus in which an artificial cold freezes together Madeira, the juice of the strawberry and pineapple—delicious drinks, divine mixtures which send through the veins a charming coolness, causing in every part a well-being unknown to the profane. 130 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART. But even then we have not reached the limit in this ascending series of delights. There are days when our wives, our sisters, our cousins, and other lady friends, have been invited to share in the pleasures of the chase. At the ap- pointed hour there come the handsome carriages loaded with the fair, all feathers and flowers, many of them dressed in a style somewhat military and coquettish. Soon the interior of each carriage dis- closes its treasures of pies, its marvels of paté-de- Jote-gras, its dainties of all possible kinds. Nor is the foaming champagne forgot, its quality enhanced under the hand of beauty. Seating themselves on the green sward, they eat while the corks fly, and there is talk, laughter, and merriment, and perfect freedom, for the universe is their drawing-room and the sun their lamp. Besides, they have appetite, Nature’s special gift, which lends to such a meal a vivacity unknown indoors, however beautiful the surroundings. As, however, everything must have an end, at the signal given by the master of the ceremonies all rise, and the men resume their guns, the ladies their hats. Good-bye is said, the carriages are brought up, and the fair visitors fly away, not to be again seen till the evening. I have hunted in the centre of France and the HALTS OF A HUNTING PARTY. i51 most remote provinces, and seen at the halt of a hunting party charming women, girls beaming with freshness—some arriving in cabriolets, and others in simple country gigs, or even on the humble ass to which some of the suburbs owe both fame and fortune. I have seen them foremost in enjoying the slight mischances of transport. I have seen them display on the turf the turkey in clear jelly, the household pie, the salad all ready for mixing. I have seen them dancing with light foot round the bivouac fire. Having seen these and shared in the games and merriment belonging to such a gipsy feast, I feel convinced that, though there be less luxury than in the former case, there is quite as much that is charming, gay, and delightful. And, at the parting, why should some kisses not be bestowed upon the best huntsman, because full of honour, upon the worst, because of his ill-luck, and then upon the rest, to prevent jealousy? All are about to separate, custom authorizes it, and to take advantage of such an occasion is not only allowed, but an actual duty. Fellow-sportsmen, ye who are prudent and never aim heedlessly, fire straight and bag as much game as you can before the ladies arrive ; for experience teaches that, after their departure, the hunting is very rarely successful. 152 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. XVL ON DIGESTION. «Ir is not what a man eats that nourishes him,” says an old proverb, “but what he digests.” Diges- - tion, then, is a condition of existence, a law governing as imperatively the poor as the rich, the shepherd as the king. But how few know what digestion means! In this most men are like M. Jourdain, who had been speaking prose without being aware of it; and it is on their account that I give a short sketch of this subject, feeling certain that DM. Jourdain was greatly pleased when assured by the philosopher that what he spoke was prose. Digestion is a purely mechanical operation, and the digestive apparatus may be considered as a mill furnished with its sieves, in order to extract from the food all that can be of use in repairing the bodily wants, and reject the husky residuum. After being impregnated by the various fluids supplied by the mouth and esophagus, the food, on reaching the stomach, is for several hours submitted to the action of the gastric juice, at a temperature of more than 100° of Fahrenheit. ON DIGESTION. 153 The chyle elaborated by this operation is a white liquor, almost without taste or smell, but of such importance that, as soon as it is received into the circulation, the individual becomes aware of it by the conscious increase of vital force, and an intimate conviction that the bodily losses are made good. Digestion is of longer or shorter duration, accord- ing to the particular disposition of the individual. The average time may be given at about seven hours—rather less than half of which is assigned to the stomach, or digestion proper. Of all the bodily functions, digestion is that which has most influence on the morale ; o | of the individual—his feelings and mental of diges- conditions. Let this assertion astonish no a one, for it is necessarily true. The most elementary principles of psychology teach us that the mind receives impressions only through the organs which are subject to it, and place it in communication with exterior objects; hence it follows that, when these organs are out of order, enfeebled, or irritated, that state of degradation must affect the sensations, which are the intermediary and occasional means of the intellectual operations. Thus, by our habitual mode of digestion, especially in its later stages, we are rendered habitually sad or gay, silent or talkative, morose or melancholy, without even sus- 154 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART. pecting it, and, what is more, without being able to prevent it. In young people digestion is often accompanied by a slight shiver; in the old by a strong desire to sleep. In the former case, it is Nature with- drawing the caloric from the surfaces to use it in her laboratory, and in the latter, the natural power, already enfeebled by age, cannot suffice at the same time for the work of digestion and the excitation of the senses. Some persons always show temper during the time of digestion, and nobody should then propose plans to them, or beg favours. Marshal Augereau was a special instance of this, for during the first hour after dinner he would kill whoever came in his way, friend or enemy. One day I heard him say that there were in the army two persons whom the chief commander could at any time order to be shot, namely, the paymaster and the captain of the staff. They were both present. General Chérin made some reply in a cajoling tone, but with spirit ; the paymaster said nothing, though he probably thought none the less. I was then on the marshal’s staff, and a knife and fork were always laid for me at his table, but I seldom went, from dread of those periodical squalls, being afraid, in fact, lest on a single word ke should ON DIGESTION. 155 send me to finish my digestion under arrest. I have often since met him in Paris, and as he used to express regret at not having met me more fre- quently, I made no concealment of the cause: though laughing over it, he almost admitted that I was not entirely wrong. It was at Offenburg we were then on service, and a special grievance of the staff was that we had no game or fish at dinner. The complaint was not un- reasonable, for it is a universal maxim that the conquerors should make good cheer at the expense of the conquered. Accordingly, I wrote the same day a polite note to the head-forester, pointing out the complaint and prescribing the cure. He was an old German knight, tall, meagre, and dark, who could not suffer us, and no doubt treated us as badly as he dared, to prevent our taking root in his territory. His reply, therefore, was full of evasions, and amounted almost to a refusal: the gamekeepers had disappeared, from fear of our soldiers, the fishermen were no longer under orders, and the rivers were swollen, ete., ete. To such ex- cellent reasons I made no reply; but I sent him ten grenadiers to be billeted upon him until further orders. The medicine took effect. Next morning, very early, there arrived a cart abundantly loaded ; and 150 GASTRONOMY AS A FINE ART. no doubt, the gamekeepers had returned and the fishermen again become amenable to authority, for there was game and fish enough to regale us for more than a week: venison, woodcocks, carp, pike— an abundant godsend. On receiving this expiatory offering, I delivered the unlucky head-forester of his guests. He came to see us, and I soon brought him to take a proper view of the subject; so that, during the rest of our stay in that country, we could only congratulate ourselves on his treatment of us. XVIL ON REST, MAN’s organization does not admit of continuous activity: Nature has only destined him to an in- terrupted existence. At the close of certain periods his perceptions cease. When in a state of sleep and having his mind acted upon solely by dreams, if at all, man is no longer a member of society. The law still protects him but no longer commands him. A curious instance of this was told me by Don ON REST. 157 Duhaget, formerly prior of the Chartreuse Pierre- Chétel, a man belonging to an honourable Gascon family, and who had served for twenty years with distinction as captain in the infantry. “ Amongst the friars,” said he, referring to the place he had been prior of before coming ,.. to Pierre-Chitel, © there was one of melan- tive choly, if not sullen, disposition, who was en known to be a somnambulist. Sometimes, when the fit was upon him, he left his cell and returned to it by himself; at other times he lost his way and they were obliged to lead him back. Several - remedies had been tried, and at last, his relapses becoming less frequent, no further notice was taken of his case. “ One night, being later up than usual, I was at my writing-desk, busy with some papers, when I heard the door of my room open, and soon saw this monk enter, in a state of absolute somnambulism. His eyes were open and staring, he had no clothes on him except the tunic used for a night-dress, and he held a big knife in his hand. He went straight to my bed, evidently knowing where it was placed, and seemed to satisfy himself, by feeling with his hands, that I was really in it ; after which, he struck three blows with such good-will that, after piercing the bed-clothes, the blade went 158 GASTRONOMY AS 4 FINE ART. deeply into the mattrass, or rather, the matting which served for that purpose. “On first passing me, his features were contracted and his eyebrows knitted together; but when he turned round, after striking the blows, I observed that his features were relaxed and wore an expression of content. The light of the two lamps on my bureau made no impression on his eyes, and he went back as he came, carefully opening and shutting the two doors which led to my room, and then at once retiring quietly to his own. “You can easily form a conception,” said the rior, “ of my feelings during that frightful appari- tion. I shuddered with horror to see the danger from which I had just escaped, and gave thanks to Providence ; but my emotion was such that it was impossible to close my eyes for the rest of the night. % Next morning I sent for the somnambulist, and, coming at once to the point, asked him what he had been dreaming about during the night. He was evidently confused by that question. ¢I have had so strange a dream, father,’ he replied, ‘ that, indeed, I can scarcely disclose it to you; it may be the work of the devil, and > «