SOYER’S {i}

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LONDON:
VIZETELLY AND COMPANY, PRINTERS AND ENGRAVERS.
PETERBOROUGH COURT, FLEET STREET.

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Contents.

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List of Illustrations.

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Thanks to the impressions received in boyhood, Rome and Athens always present themselves to our minds accompanied by the din of arms, shouts of victory, or the clamours of plebeians crowded round the popular tribune. “And yet,” said we, “nations, like individuals, have two modes of existence distinctly marked—one intellectual and moral, the other sensual and physical; and both continue to interest through the lapse of ages.”

What, for instance, calls forth our sympathies more surely than to follow from the cradle that city of Romulus—at first so weak, so obscure, and so despised—through its prodigious developments, until, having{4} become the sovereign mistress of the world, it seems, like Alexander, to lament that the limits of the globe restrict within so narrow a compass its ungovernable ardour for conquest, its insatiable thirst of opima spolia and tyrannical oppression. In like manner, a mighty river, accounted as nothing at its source, where a child can step across, receives in its meandrous descent the tribute of waters, which roll on with increasing violence, and rush at last from their too narrow bed to inundate distant plains, and spread desolation and terror.

History has not failed to record, one by one, the battles, victories, and defeats of nations which no longer exist; it has described their public life,—their life in open air,—the tumultuous assemblies of the forum,—the fury of the populace,—the revolts of the camps,—the barbarous spectacles of those amphiteatres, where the whole pagan universe engaged in bloody conflict, where gladiators were condemned to slaughter one another for the pastime of the over-pampered inhabitants of the Eternal City—sanguinary spectacles, which often consigned twenty or thirty thousand men to the jaws of death in the space of thirty days!

But, after all, neither heroes, soldiers, nor people, can be always at war; they cannot be incessantly at daggers drawn on account of some open-air election; the applause bestowed on a skilful and courageous bestiarius is not eternal; captives may be poignarded in the Circus by way of amusement, but only for a time. Independently of all these things, there is the home, the fire-side, the prose of life, if you will; nay, let us say it at once, the business of life—eating and drinking.

It is to that we have devoted our vigils, and, in order to arrive at our aim, we have given an historical sketch of the vegetable and animal alimentation of man from the earliest ages; therefore it will be easily understood why we have taken the liberty of saying to the austere Jew, the voluptuous Athenian, the obsequious or vain-glorious senator of imperial Rome, and even to the fantastical, prodigal, and cruel Cæsars: “Tell me what thou eatest, and I will tell thee who thou art.”

But, it must be confessed that our task was surrounded with difficulties, and required much laborious patience and obstinate perseverance. It is easy to penetrate into the temples, the baths, and the theatres of the ancients; not so to rummage their cellars, pantries, and kitchens, and study the delicate magnificence of their dining-rooms. Now it was there, and there alone, that we sought to obtain access.

With that view we have had recourse to the only possible means:{5} we have interrogated those old memoirs of an extinct civilisation which connect the present with the past; poets, orators, historians, philosophers, epistolographers, writers on husbandry, and even those who are the most frivolous or the most obscure—we have consulted all, examined all, neglected nothing. Our respectful curiosity has often emboldened us to peep into the sacred treasure of the annals of the people of God; and sometimes the doctors of the Primitive Church have furnished us with interesting traits of manners and customs, together with chance indications of domestic usages, disseminated, and, as it were, lost in the midst of grave moral instruction.

The fatigue of these unwonted researches appeared to us to be fully compensated by the joy we experienced on finding our hopes satisfied by some new discovery. Like the botanist, who forgets his lassitude at the unexpected sight of a desired plant, we no longer remembered the dust of fatidical volumes, nor the numberless leaves we had turned over, when by a happy chance our gastronomic enthusiasm espied a curious and rare dish.

Thus it is that this work—essay, we ought to call it—has been slowly and gradually augmented with the spoils of numerous writers of antiquity, both religious and profane.

We have avoided, as much as possible, giving to this book a didactic and magisterial character, which would have ill-accorded with the apparent lightness of the subject, and might have rendered it tedious to most readers. We know not whether these researches will be considered instructive, but we hope they will amuse.

When we compare the cookery of the ancients with our own—and the parallel naturally presents itself to the mind—it often betrays strange anomalies, monstrous differences, singular perversions of taste, and incomprehensible amalgamations, which baffle every attempt at justification. Apicius himself, or perhaps the Cœlius of the 3rd century, to whom we owe the celebrated treatise “De Opeoniis,” would run great risk—if he were now to rise from his tomb, and attempted to give vogue to his ten books of recipes—either of passing for a poisoner or of being put under restraint as a subject decidedly insane. It follows, then, that although we have borrowed his curious lucubrations, we leave to the Roman epicurean and to his times the entire responsibility of his work.

The reader will also remark, in the course of this volume, asserted facts of a striking oddity, certain valuations which appear to be exaggerated,{6} some descriptions he will pronounce fabulous or impossible. Now, we have never failed to give our authorities, but we are far from being willing to add our personal guarantee; so that we leave all those antique frauds—if any—to be placed to the account of the writers who have traitorously furnished them.

We think, however, that most persons will peruse with some interest (and, let us hope, a little indulgence) these studies on an art which, like all arts invented by necessity or inspired by pleasure, has kept pace with the genius of nations, and became more refined and more perfect in proportion as they themselves became more polite.

It appears that the luxury and enchantments of the table were first appreciated by the Assyrians and Persians, those voluptuous Asiatics, who, by reason of the enervating mildness of the climate, were powerless to resist sensual seductions.

Greece—“beloved daughter of the gods”—speedily embellished the culinary art with all the exquisite delicacy of her poetic genius. “The people of Athens,” says an amiable writer, whom we regret to quote from memory, “took delight in exercising their creative power, in giving existence to new arts, in enlarging the aureola of civilisation. At their voice, the gods hastened to inhabit the antique oak; they disported in the fountains and the streams; they dispersed themselves in gamesome groups on the tops of the mountains and in the shade of the valleys, while their songs and their balmy breath mingled with the harmonious whisperings of the gentle breeze.”

What cooks! what a table! what guests! in that Eden of paganism—that land of intoxicating perfumes, of generous wines, and inexhaustible laughter! The Lacedæmonians alone, those cynics of Greece, threw a saddening shade over the delicious picture of present happiness undisturbed by any thought of to-morrow.

Let us not forget that an Athenian, not less witty than nice, and, moreover, a man of good company, has left us this profound aphorism: “La viande la plus délicate est celle qui est le moins viande; le poisson le plus exquis est celui qui est le moins poisson.”

Rome was long renowned for her austere frugality, and it is remarked that, during more than five centuries, the art of making bread was there unknown, which says little for her civilisation and intelligence. Subsequently, the conquest of Greece, the spoils of the subjugated world, the prodigious refinements of the Syracusans, gave to the conquered nations,{7} says Juvenal, a complete revenge on their conquerors. The unheard-of excesses of the table swallowed up patrimonies which seemed to be inexhaustible, and illustrious dissipators obtained a durable but sad renown.

The Romans had whimsical tastes, since they dared serve the flesh of asses and dogs, and ruined themselves to fatten snails. But, after all, the caprices of fashion, rather than the refinement of sensuality, compelled them to adopt these strange aliments. Paulus Æmilius, no doubt a good judge in such matters, formed a high opinion of the elegance displayed by his compatriots in the entertainments; and he compared a skilful cook, at the moment when he is planning and arranging a repast, to a great general.

We were very anxious to enrich our “Pantropheon” with a greater number of Bills of Fare, or details of banquets; but we have become persuaded that it is very difficult, at the present day, to procure a complete and accurate account of the arrangement of feasts at which were seated guests who died two or three thousand years ago. Save and except the indications—more or less satisfactory, but always somewhat vague—which we gather on this subject from Petronius, Athenæus, Apuleius, Macrobius, Suetonius, and some other writers, we can do little more than establish analogies, make deductions, and reconstruct the entire edifice of an antique banquet by the help of a few data, valuable, without doubt, but almost always incomplete.

One single passage in Macrobius—a curious monument of Roman cookery—will supply the place of multiplied researches: it is the description of a supper given by the Pontiff Lentulus on the day of his reception. We present it to the amateurs of the magiric art:

“The first course (ante-cœna) was composed of sea-hedgehogs, raw oysters in abundance, all sorts of shell-fish, and asparagus. The second service comprised a fine fatted pullet, a fresh dish of oysters, and other shell-fish, different kinds of dates, univalvular shell-fish (as whelks, conchs, &c.), more oysters, but of different kinds, sea-nettles, beccaficoes, chines of roe-buck and wild boar, fowls covered with a perfumed paste, a second dish of shell-fish, and purples—a very costly kind of Crustacea. The third and last course presented several hors-d’œuvre, a wild boar’s head, fish, a second set of hors-d’œuvre, ducks, potted river fish, leverets, roast fowls, and cakes from the marshes of Ancona.”

All these delicacies would very much surprise an epicurean of the{8} present day, particularly if they were offered to him in the order indicated by Macrobius. The text of that writer, as it is handed down to us, may be imperfect or mutilated; again, he may have described the supper of Lentulus from memory, regardless of the order prescribed for those punctilious and learned transitions to which a feast owes all its value.

Let us, we would say, in addressing our culinary colleagues, avoid those deplorable lacunes; let us preserve for future generations, who may be curious concerning our gastronomic pomp, the minutiæ of our memorable magiric meetings, prompted, almost without exception, by some highly civilising idea—a love of the arts, the commercial propagandism, or a feeling of philanthropy. The Greeks and Romans—egotists, if there ever were any—supped for themselves, and lived only to sup; our pleasures are ennobled by views more useful and more elevated. We often dine for the poor, and we sometimes dance for the afflicted, the widow, and the orphan.

Moreover, a most important ethnographical consideration seems to give a serious interest to the diet of a people, if it be true, as we are convinced it is, and as we shall probably one day endeavour to demonstrate, that the manners of individuals, their idiosyncrasies, inclinations, and intellectual habits, are modified, to a certain extent, as taste, climate, and circumstances may determine the nature of their food; an assertion which might be supported by irrefragable proofs, and would show the justness of the aphorism: “Tell me what thou eatest, and I will tell thee who thou art.”{9}

VICTUA
or
THE GODDESS OF GASTRONOMY

I.

AGRICULTURE

Every nation has attributed the origin of agriculture to some beneficent Deity. The Egyptians bestowed this honour on Osiris, the Greeks on Ceres and Triptolemus, the Latins on Saturn, or on their king Janus, whom, in gratitude, they placed among the gods. All nations, however, agree that, whoever introduced among them this happy and beneficial discovery, has been most useful to man by elevating his mind to a state of sociability and civilization.[I_1]

Many learned men have made laborious researches in order to discover, not only the name of the inventor of agriculture, but the country and the century in which he lived; some, however, have failed in their inquiry. And why? Because they have forgotten, in their investigation, the only book which could give them positive information on the birth of society, and the first development of human industry. We read in the Book of Genesis that: “The Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden, to dress it and to keep it”[I_2] And, after having related his fatal disobedience, the sacred historian adds: “Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken.”[I_3]

Would it be possible to adduce a more ancient and sublime authority?

If it be asked why we take Moses as our guide, instead of dating the origin of human society from those remote periods which are lost in the night of ages, we invoke one of the most worthy masters of human science—the illustrious Cuvier—who says:—

“No western nation can produce an uninterrupted chronology of{10} more than three thousand years. Not one of them has any record of connected facts which bears the stamp of probability anterior to that time, nor even for two or three centuries after. The Greeks acknowledge that they learned the art of writing from the Phœnicians thirty or thirty-four centuries ago; and for a long time after that period their history is filled with fables, in which they only go back three hundred years to establish the cradle of their existence as a nation. Of the history of western Asia we have only a few contradictory extracts, which embrace, in an unconnected form, about twenty centuries. The first profane historian with whom we are acquainted by works extant is Herodotus, and his antiquity does not reach two thousand three hundred years. The historians consulted by him had written less than a century previous; and we are enabled to judge what kind of historians they were by the extravagances handed down to us as extracts from Aristæus, Proconesus, and some others. Before them they had only poets; and Homer, the master and eternal model of the west, lived only two thousand seven hundred, or two thousand eight hundred, years ago. One single nation has transmitted to us annals, written in prose, before the time of Cyrus: it is the Jewish nation. That part of the Old Testament called the Pentateuch has existed in its present form at least ever since the schism of Jeroboam, as the Samaritans receive it equally with the Jews, that is to say, that it has assuredly existed more than two thousand eight hundred years. There is no reason for not attributing the Book of Genesis to Moses, which would carry us back five hundred years more, or thirty-three centuries; and it is only necessary to read it in order to perceive that it is, in part, a compilation of fragments from antecedent works: wherefore, no one can have the least doubt of its being the oldest book now possessed by the western nations.”[I_4]

The descendants of our first parents—and, first of all, the Hebrew people, who, as a nation historically considered, must occupy our foremost attention—devoted all their energy to agricultural labour.

The chief of the tribe of Judah as well as the youngest son of the tribe of Benjamin followed the plough, and gathered corn in the fields. Gideon was thrashing and winnowing his corn, when an angel revealed to him that he should be the deliverer of Israel;[I_5] Ruth was gleaning when Boaz saw her for the first time;[I_6] King Saul was driving his team of oxen in the ploughed field, when some of his court came and apprized him that the city of Jabesh was in danger;[I_7] and Elisha was called{11} away to prophesy while at work with one of his father’s ploughs.[I_8] We could multiply these incidents without end, to prove what extraordinary interest the Jews took in agricultural occupations.

Moses regarded agriculture as the first of all arts, and he enjoined the Hebrews to apply themselves to it in preference to any other: it was to the free and pure air of the fields, to the strengthening, healthy, and laborious country life, that he called their first attention. The sages of Greece and Rome held the same opinion: in those republics the tradesman was but an obscure individual, while the tiller of the soil was considered as a distinguished citizen. The urban tribes yielded precedence to the rustics, and this latter class supplied the nation with its generals and its magistrates.[I_9] Our present ideas on this point have materially changed with the times, and our modern Cincinnati very seldom return to the field to terminate the furrow they have commenced. The Israelites did not possess this excessive delicacy: they preserved the taste for agriculture with which their great legislator, Moses, had inspired them, and which the distribution of land naturally tended to strengthen. No one, in fact, was allowed to possess enough ground to tempt him to neglect the smallest portion; nor had any one the right to dispossess the Hebrew of his father’s field,—even he himself was forbidden to alienate for ever land from his family.[I_10] This wise disposition did not escape the notice of an ancient heathen author,[I_11] and various states of Greece adopted the same plan; amongst others, the Locrians, Athenians, and Spartans, who did not allow their fathers’ inheritance to be sold.[I_12]

The plan which we have adopted for our guidance in this work hardly justifies us in casting more than a glance at the Mosaic legislation; we shall, therefore, pass over all those prescriptions, all those memorable prohibitions, which the reader must have so often admired in the Books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, and content ourselves with observing that Moses knew how to find in agriculture an infallible means of developing the industry of his people, and that, by imposing the necessity of giving rest to the land every seventh year,[I_13] he obliged them, by the generality of this repose, to have stores in reserve; and consequently to employ every means of preserving portions of the grain, fruit, wines, and oil which they had gathered in the course of the six years preceding.

Ancient casuists of this nation enter into the most minute details{12} on tillage and sowing, and also on the gathering of olives, on the tithes which were paid to the priests, and the portion set aside for the poor. They also mention some species of excellent wheat, barley, rice, figs, dates, &c., which were gathered in Judea.[I_14]

The soil of this delicious country was astonishingly fertile,[I_15] the operation of tillage was easy, and the cattle here supplied a greater abundance of milk than anywhere else;[I_16] we will just remark that even the names of several localities indicate some of these advantages. For instance, Capernaum signified a beautiful country town; Gennesareth, the garden of the groves; Bethsaida, the house of plenty; Nam was indebted for its sweet name to the beauty of its situation; and Magdela, on the borders of the sea of Galilee, to its site, and the happy life of its inhabitants.

Next to the Hebrews, in agriculture, came the Egyptians, a strange and fantastical people, who raised the imperishable pyramids, the statue of Memnon, and the lighthouse of Alexandria, and who yet prayed religiously every morning to their goddess—a radish, or their gods—leek and onion.[I_17] Whatever there may be of folly and rare industry in this mixture, we cannot but agree that the art of agriculture was very ancient in Egypt, as the father of the faithful—Abraham—retired into that country at a time of famine;[I_18] and, later, the sons of Jacob went there also to purchase corn.[I_19]

We know that the Romans called this province the granary of the empire, and that they drew from it every year twenty million bushels of corn.[I_20] If we are to believe the Egyptians, Osiris, son of Jupiter (and hence a demi-god of good family), taught them the art of tilling the ground by aid of the plough.[I_21] This instrument, we may easily believe, was much less complicated than ours of the present day; there is no doubt that in the beginning, and for a great length of time afterwards,

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Pl. 1

it was nothing but a long piece of wood without joint, and bent in such manner that one end went into the ground, whilst the other served to yoke the oxen;[I_22] for it was always these animals which drew the plough, although Homer seems to give the preference to mules.[I_23]

The Greeks, clever imitators of the Egyptians, pretended that Ceres taught them the art of sowing, reaping, and grinding corn; they made her goddess of harvest, and applied themselves to the labour of agriculture with that rare and persevering ability which always characterised these people, and consequently was often the cause of many things being attributed to them which they only borrowed from other nations.[I_24]

The Romans, future rulers of the world, understood from the first that the earth claimed their nursing care; and Romulus instituted an order of priesthood for no other object than the advancement of this useful art. It was composed of the twelve sons of his nurse, all invested with a sacerdotal character, who were commanded to offer to Heaven vows and sacrifices in order to obtain an abundant harvest. They were called Arvales brothers;[I_25] one of them dying, the king took his place, and continued to fulfil his duty for the rest of his life.[I_26]

In the palmy days of the republic, the conquerors of the universe passed from the army or the senate to their fields;[I_27] Seranus was sowing when called to command the Roman troops, and Quintus Cincinnatus was ploughing when a deputation came and informed him that he was appointed dictator.

Everything in the conduct of the Romans gives evidence of their great veneration for agriculture. They called the rich, locupletes, that is, persons who were possessors of a farm or country seat (locus); their first money was stamped with a sheep or an ox, the symbol of abundance: they called it pecunia, from pecus (flock). The public treasure was designated pascua, because the Roman domain consisted, at the beginning, only of pasturage.

After the taking of Carthage, the books of the libraries were distributed to the allied princes of the republic, but the senate reserved the twenty-eight books of Mago on agriculture.[I_28]

We shall briefly point out the principal processes of this art in use among the Greeks and Romans, or at least those which appear to us most deserving of interest. Like us, the ancients divided the land in furrows, whose legal length (if we may so term it) was one hundred and{14} thirty feet.[I_29] Oxen were never allowed to stop while tracing a furrow, but on arriving at the end they rested a short time; and when their task was over they were cleaned with the greatest care, and their mouths washed with wine.[I_30] The ground being well prepared and fit to receive the seed, the grain was spread on the even surface of the furrows, and then covered over.[I_31]

The primitive plough, already mentioned, was of extreme simplicity. It had no wheels, but was merely furnished with a handle, to enable the ploughman to direct it according to his judgment; neither was there any iron or other metal in its construction. They afterwards made a plough of two pieces, one of a certain length to put the oxen to, and the other was shorter to go in the ground; it was similar, in shape, to an anchor. Such was the style of plough which the Greeks used.[I_32] They also very often employed a sort of fork, with three or four prongs, for the same purpose.[I_33] Pliny gives credit to the Gauls for the invention of the plough mounted on wheels. The Anglo-Norman plough had no wheels;[I_34] the ploughman guided it with one hand, and carried a stick in the other to break the clods.

The Greeks and Romans had not, perhaps, the celebrated guano of our days, though we would not positively assert it; but they knew of a great variety of manures, all well adapted to the various soils they wished to improve. Sometimes they made use of marl, a sort of fat clay;[I_35] and frequently manure from pigeons, blackbirds, and thrushes, which were fattened in aviaries[I_36] for the benefit of Roman epicures. Certain plants, they thought, required a light layer of ashes, which they obtained from roots and brushwood;[I_37] others succeeded best, according to their dictum, on land where sheep, goats, &c., had grazed for a long time.[I_38]

When the harvest season arrived, they joyfully prepared to cut the corn, with instruments varying in form according to the locality or the fancy of the master. In one place they adopted the plain sickle,[I_39] in another that with teeth.[I_40] Sometimes they mowed the corn, as they did the meadows, with a scythe;[I_41] or else they plucked off the ears with a kind of fork, armed with five teeth.[I_42] A short time after the harvest, the operation of thrashing generally began. Heavy chariots, armed with{15}

Pl. 2

pointed teeth, crushed the ears: Varro calls this machine the “Carthaginian chariot.”[I_43] Strabo asserts that the ancient Britons carried the corn into a large covered area, or barn, where they thrashed it; adding that, without this precaution, the rain and damp would have spoiled the grain.[I_44] At all events, this kind of thrashing in barns, with flails and sticks, was not unknown to other countries; Pliny speaks of it,[I_45] and Columella describes it;[I_46] we may add that the Egyptians were also very probably acquainted with this method, since the Jews, who had submitted to their power, employed it themselves.[I_47] When the corn had been thrashed, winnowed, and put into baskets very similar to our own of the present day,[I_48] they immediately studied the best means of preserving it: some preferred granaries exposed to a mild temperature, others had extensive edifices with thick brick walls without openings, except one hole only, in the roof, to admit light and air.

The Spaniards, Africans, and Cappadocians, dug deep ditches, from which they excluded all moisture; they covered the bottom and lined the sides with straw, then put in the grain, and covered it up. The ancients were of opinion that corn in the ear could, by this means, be preserved a great number of years.[I_49]

If it is desirable to keep corn for any length of time, choose the finest and best grown. After having worked it, make a pile as high as the ceiling will permit. Cover with a layer of quicklime, powdered, of about three inches thick; then, with a watering-pot, moisten this lime, which forms a crust with the corn. The outside seeds bud, and shoot forth a stalk, which perishes in winter. This corn is only to be touched when necessity requires it. At Sedan, a warehouse has been seen, hewed out of the rock and tolerably damp, in which there had been a considerable pile of corn for the last hundred and ten years. It was covered with a crust a foot thick, on which persons might walk without bending or breaking it in the slightest degree.

Marshal Vauban proposed eating corn in soup, without being ground; it was boiled during two or three hours in water, and when the grains had burst, a little salt, butter, or milk, was added. This food is very nice, not unwholesome, and might be employed when flour is scarce, heated, or half-rotten.—Dutour.

The Chinese instituted a ceremony which had for its base to honour the profession of agriculture: every year, at the time of ploughing the{16} fields, the emperor with all his court paid a visit to his country residence near Pekin, and then marked out several furrows with his plough.

In 1793, the National Convention of France instituted also a similar fête; and the president of the local administration of his county was to mark out a furrow.

In 1848 a grand republican procession took place through Paris, to the Champ de Mars, wherein agriculture played a prominent part.

The first treatise on agriculture was printed in 1538; and its importance has been so much felt from that period, that there are now in France more than one hundred and twenty societies of agriculture, who distribute prizes to encourage discoveries for the improvement of this science.

We have, in our days, the Royal Agricultural Society of England, which also awards prizes;[V] and through such institutions all information can be obtained on the successive progresses made in that indispensable art, which may be said to have arrived to such a degree of perfection, that future generations may find some difficulty in improving upon it. One great evidence of which is, the immense number of samples of agricultural produce, machines, and implements of husbandry, which great and the glorious Exhibition of 1851 has ushered to the world.

Previous to the arrival of the Romans, the ancient Britons paid but little attention to agriculture. Their intestine discords left them scarcely any leisure to cultivate their fields, or apply themselves to the improvement of an art which flourishes only in peaceful times. They reared a great number of cattle; but their chief corn was barley, of which they made their favourite drink. They put the grain in the ear into barns, and beat it out as they wanted it. Those inhabitants of the island who were the least civilized subsisted solely on milk and the flesh of animals,{17}

Pl. 3

which they had learned to master by their skill.[I_50] But the people of this nation, for which Heaven had in reserve such a brilliant destiny, knew how to endure hunger, cold, and fatigue, without a murmur. A Briton passed entire days immersed to the neck in the stagnant waters of a marsh; a few roots sufficed for his nourishment, and, if we are to believe Dio, his frugal habits enabled him to appease the craving of his stomach with an aliment composed of ingredients no longer known, and of which he took each time, at long intervals, a quantity not exceeding in size that of a bean.[I_51]

Let us add that the art of gardening was known rather early in Great Britain, and that marl was employed to manure the land.[I_52]

The Anglo-Saxons employed themselves diligently in the cultivation of the soil; they established farms, sowed grain, and reared cattle. The fleece of their sheep furnished them with precious wool, which they spun, and then converted into sumptuous clothing.[I_53]

Strutt gives us a curious detail of rural occupations at that epoch. We will cite the original text:

“January exhibits the husbandman in the fields at plough, while his attendant, diligently following, is sowing the grain.

“February. The grain being put into the earth, the next care was to prune their trees, crop their vines, and place them in order.

“March. Then we follow them into the garden, where the industrious labourer is digging up the ground, and sowing the vegetables for the ensuing season.

“April. Now, taking leave of the laborious husbandman, we see the nobleman regaling with his friends, and passing the pleasant month in carousings, banquetings, and music.

“May brings the lord into the field to examine his flock, and superintend the shearing of the sheep.

“June. With this month comes the gladsome time of harvest. Here are some cutting down the corn, while it is, by others, bound up in sheaves and laid into the carts, to be conveyed to the barns and granaries; in the meantime they are spirited up to their labours by the shrill sound of the enlivening horn.

“July. Here we find them employed in lopping the trees and felling of timber, &c.

“August. In this month they cut down the barley with which they made their old and best beloved drink (ale).{18}

“September. Here we find the lord, attended by his huntsmen, pursuing and chasing the wild boars in the woods and forests.

“October. And here he is amusing himself with the exercise of that old and noble pastime, hawking.

“November. This month returns us again to the labourers, who are here heating and preparing their utensils.

“December. In this last month we find them thrashing out the grain, while some winnow or rather sift it, to free it from the chaff, and others carry it out in large baskets to the granaries. In the meantime, the steward keeps an account of the quantity, by means of an indented or notched stick.”[I_54]

Agriculture was always protected with paternal solicitude by a prince, whose name will ever remind us of the sanguinary day of Saint Bartholomew. Here is a textual passage from the edict issued by Charles IX., the 18th October, 1571.

“We have commanded and ordained, and do hereby command and ordain, that no man engaged in the cultivation of land, by himself, his servants, and his family, with intent to raise grain and fruit necessary for the sustenance of men and beasts, shall be liable to the process of execution for debt, nor on any account whatsoever, neither in his own person, nor his bed, horses, mares, mules, asses, oxen, cows, pigs, goats, sheep, poultry, ploughs, carts, waggons, harrows, barrows, nor any other species or kind of cattle or goods serving in the said tillage and occupation. * * * The said husbandmen being under our protection and safeguard, seeing that we have so placed them and do place them by these presents.”[I_55]

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II.

CEREALS.

The nomenclature which the Romans have left us of their various kinds of corn is so obscure and uncertain, that some modern writers are continually contradicting each other, and, by these means, have raised doubts which render our task more difficult, instead of enlightening us on the subject.

We shall do all in our power to avoid the censure which we take the liberty of passing upon them.

“Triticum,” wheat, or corn; “Blé,” from the ancient Latin word “Bladus,” which signifies fruit or seed. The botanist Michaux has discovered in Persia, on a mountain four days’ journey from Hamadan, the place where wheat (a species known as spelt, from the Latin spelta) is indigenous to the soil, from which we may presume that wheat has its origin in that country, or some part of Asia not far from Persia. This grain was more cultivated formerly than it is now; nevertheless, it is still gathered in Italy, Switzerland, Alsace, in the Limousin and in Picardy, to make bread, with spelt, a greater quantity of leaven, and, above all, a little salt. This bread is white, light, savoury, and keeps moist for several days.—Parmentier.

Robus, a variety of corn heavier than triticum, and remarkable for its brilliant polish.

Every year, on the 25th of April, an appeal was made to the god Robigus, to prevent the mildew from corrupting this fine specimen of corn. This festival was founded by the great king, Numa Pompilius.[II_1]

Siligo, a beautiful quality of wheat, of great whiteness, but lighter in weight than the preceding kind.[II_2]

{20}

Trimestre, a kind of siligo, sown in Spring, and which was ready for reaping three months afterwards.

Granea, the grain merely deprived of its husk: it was boiled in water, to which milk was added.[II_3]

Hordeum, barley.[II_4] The flour of this corn was the food of the Jewish soldiers.[II_5] It was, with the Athenians, a favourite dish, but among the Romans an ignominious food. Augustus threatened the cohorts that, should they not fight bravely, he would punish every tenth man with death, and give the remainder barley for food.[II_6] This corn was certainly in use among the Egyptians in the time of Moses, since one of the plagues which afflicted that people was the loss of the barley in the ear before it came to maturity.[II_7]

Panicum, panic grass.[II_8] Certain inhabitants of Thrace and of the borders of the Euxine, or Black Sea, preferred this to all other food.[II_9]

Millium, millet, was used for making excellent cakes.[II_10]

Secale, rye.[II_11] Pliny thinks this grain detestable, and only good to appease extreme hunger.[II_12]

Avena, oats.[II_13] Virgil had but very little esteem for this grain.[II_14] The Romans cut it in the spring for the cattle to eat green; and the Germans, in the time of Pliny, took great care in its cultivation, and made a pulp of it which they thought excellent.[II_15]

Oryza, rice. Pliny[II_16] and Dioscorides[II_17] class it with the wheats; whereas Galen, on the contrary, places it among vegetables.

Rice was rather scarce in Greece at the time when Theophrastus lived: it had lately been brought from India, 286 years before Christ.

The ancients considered it most nutritious and fattening.[II_18]

Zea, spelt, or rice wheat,[II_19] equally esteemed by Greeks and Latins.[II_20]

Sesamum, sesame. Pliny classes this among the seeds sown in March,[II_21] and Columella places it among the vegetables.[II_22] The Romans knew how to prepare this corn in a manner at once wholesome and agreeable. They made it into very dainty cakes, which were served at dessert,[II_23] whence sprang the saying sesame cakes, which was applied to those sweet and flattering expressions called honied words (in French, paroles sucrées).[II_24]

A people so restless and unmanageable as were the Greeks and Romans, when pressed by hunger, required that the greatest care should be exercised for the supply of corn, and the easy sale of this precious provision. Hence nothing could be wiser than their regulations on this subject.{21}

One of the laws of the twelve tables punished with death the individual who had premeditatedly set fire to his neighbour’s corn; and inflicted a fine or the whip on any one who caused so great a calamity by his imprudence.[II_25]

In Greece, a special magistrate, the “Sitocome,” was charged with the inspection of the corn; and various officers, such as the sitones, the sitophylaces, and the sitologes, were appointed to watch over its purchase.

And lastly, public distributors, under the names of siturches and sitometres, were exclusively occupied with the allotment of corn;[II_26] they prevented any one from purchasing a greater quantity than was actually necessary for his wants. The law forbad the delivery of more than fifty measures to one individual.[II_27] The Roman government was so convinced that abundance of bread was one of the best means of maintaining public tranquillity,[II_28] that Julius Cæsar created two prætors, and two ediles or magistrates, to preside over the purchase, conveyance, storing, and gratuitous distribution of wheat.[II_29] For we know that this people of kings, powerful but frivolous, and careless of the morrow, submitted to the incredible follies of their rulers on the sole condition of being well fed and amused by them.[II_30] In the time of Demosthenes the common price of wheat in Greece was about 3s. 11d. the four bushels.[II_31] In Rome, during the republic, wheat was distributed to 60,000 persons.[II_32] Julius Cæsar desired that 320,000 plebeians should enjoy this bounty; but this number was afterwards reduced to 150,000,[II_33] or perhaps, according to Cassius, to 160,000.[II_34] Augustus fed, at first, 200,000 citizens, then only 120,000.[II_35] Nero, who always went to extremes either in good or evil, gave corn throughout the empire to 220,000 idle people, including the soldiers of the prætorian guard.[II_36] Adrian added to this list all the children of the poor: the boys to the age of 18, and the girls to that of 14. Finally, this liberality, more politic than generous, and so foreign to our present manners, was carried, under the Emperor Severus, to 75,000 bushels per day.[II_37] The bushel weighed twenty pounds of twelve ounces each.[II_38]

The Greeks esteemed highly the corn of Bœotia, Thrace, and Pontus. The Romans preferred that of Lombardy, the present duchy of Spoletta, Sicily, Sardinia, and a part of Gaul. Sardinia, Sicily, and Corsica, supplied them every year with 800,000 bushels of twenty-one pounds weight, which made them call those islands “the sweet nurses of Rome.”[II_39]

{22} Africa furnished 40,000,000 of bushels; Egypt 20,000,000, and the remainder came from Greece, Asia, Syria, Gaul, and Spain.[II_40]

The erudite are not agreed as to the aboriginal country of corn: some say it is Egypt, others Tartary, and the learned Bailly, as well as the traveller Pallas, affirm that it grows spontaneously in Siberia. Be that as it may, the Phocians brought it to Marseilles before the Romans had penetrated into Gaul. The Gauls ate the corn cooked, or bruised in a mortar; they did not know for a long time how to make fermented bread.

The Chinese attribute to Chin-Nong, the second of the nine emperors of China who preceded the establishment of the dynasties (more than 2,207 years B.C.), the discovery of corn, rice, and other cereals.

We find in the Black Book of the Exchequer, that in the reign of Henry I., when they reduced the victuals (for the king’s household) to the estimate of money, a measure of wheat to make bread for the service of one hundred men, one day, was valued only at one shilling.[II_41]

But in the reign of Henry III., about the 43rd year, the price was mounted up to fifteen and twenty shillings a quarter.[II_42]

The ancients, as well as the moderns, caused wheat to undergo certain preparations to enable it to be transformed into bread, we shall enumerate in the following chapter the different processes by which they obtained flour, the essential foundation of the food of man.

Cereals.—This name has been given to all plants of the gramineous family, the fundamental base of the food of man. The cereals, properly speaking, are limited to wheat, rye, barley, and oats; however, there are others, such as canary grass, Indian corn, millet, rice, &c., &c. The immediate and most abundant principle of all these plants is the fécule, or flour, and the vegeto-animal matter of which bread is made, and other preparations for food, and fermented liquors; these cereals are given green or dry to cattle as forage; their straw covers houses, and serves as litter and manure.

Cereals was also the name given to a feast in honour of Ceres, instituted at Rome by the edile Mumonius, and celebrated every year on the 7th of April. The ladies of Rome appeared clothed in white, and holding torches in remembrance of the travels of that divinity. Cakes sprinkled with salt and grains of incense, honey, milk, and wine, were offered to that goddess. Pigs were sacrificed to her. The cereals of the Romans were the thesmophories with the Greeks.{23}

III.

GRINDING OF CORN.

At a very distant period, when gods, not over edifying in their conduct, descended at times from the heights of Olympus to enliven their immortality amongst mortals, we are told that a divine aliment charmed the palate of Jupiter and that of his quarrelsome wife; nay, of all those who inhabited the celestial abode. We are ignorant of the hour at which the table of the god of thunder was laid; but we know well that he breakfasted, dined, and supped on a delicious ambrosia—a liquid substance, it may be presumed, since it flowed for the first time from one of the horns of the goat Amalthæa, and of rather an insipid taste, if we are to believe Ibicus,[III_1] who describes it as nine times sweeter than honey. The gods have disappeared; we would forgive them for leaving us, had they left behind them the recipe of this marvellous substance; but its composition and essence remain unknown, and man, not skilful enough to appropriate to his use the inexhaustible treasures of culinary science, began his hard gastrophagic apprenticeship by devouring acorns which grew in the forests.[III_2] This is assuredly very mortifying to our feelings; but you may believe it on the authority of a poet, for we well know that a poet never tells an untruth.[III_3] Besides, fabulous antiquity adds new weight to the fact, by informing us that the Arcadian Pelasgus[III_4] deserved that altars should be erected to his memory, for having taught the Greeks to choose in preference the beech-nut, as the most delicate of this class of comestibles, according to the tender Virgil, who, however, only judged of it by hearsay.[III_5]

There is a great degree of probability in the supposition that the different races of the north, each inhabiting a country covered with{24} immense forests, lived for a long time on the fruit of these different kinds of oak which they possessed in such abundance. The great respect they had for the tree, the pompous ceremony with which the high priest of the Druids came every year to cut away the parasitical plant which clings to it, the very name of the Druids—derived from a celtic word signifying oak—all seem to point out the first food of our ancestors. The oak furnished the primitive aliment of almost every nation, in their original state of barbarism. Some of them had even preserved a taste for the acorn after they became civilized. Among the Arcadians and the Spaniards, the acorn was regarded as a delicious article of food. We read in Pliny that, in his time, these latter had them served on their tables at dessert, after they had been roasted in the wood-ashes to soften them. According to Champier, this custom still subsisted in Spain in the 16th century.

The regulation made by Chrodegand, Bishop of Metz, about the end of the 8th century, for the canons, says expressly[III_6] that if, in an unfavorable year, the acorn or flour should fail, it will be the duty of the bishop to provide it.

When, animated by the most praiseworthy zeal and courage, Du Bellay, Bishop of Mans, came, in 1546, to represent to Francis I. the frightful misery of the provinces, and that of his diocese in particular, he assured the king that in many localities the people had nothing to eat but bread made of acorns.

But mankind, who soon get tired of every thing, even of acorns and beech-nuts, began to dislike this wholesome and abundant food, when Ceres, the ancient Queen of Sicily, came just à propos to give a few lessons in the art of sowing the earth.[III_7] Corn once brought into fashion acquired a surprising repute, and the ancient food was given up to the animal which it fattens; and if this last were eaten, it was no doubt in gratitude for the fruit mankind had formerly so much loved.

The good Ceres did not stop there; it was very well to have corn, but to know how to grind it was also requisite; and the human race was then so lamentably backward, that one might have gone round the world without meeting a miller, or even the shadow of the meanest little mill.

The Queen of Sicily then invented grinding-stones,[III_8] but, as the most useful discoveries require time to be known and improved upon, the way of grinding corn with stones did not become uniform everywhere. The inhabitants of Etruria (now called Tuscany) pounded the grain in{25}

Pl. 4. ALCINOUS’S HAND MILL.

mortars.[III_9] The early Romans adopted the same means, and gave the name of Pistores, grinders, to those persons who followed this occupation.[III_10] Pliny relates that one of the ancient families of Rome took the surname of Piso, having descended, as they believed, from the inventor of the art of bruising wheat with pestles.[III_11]

Down to the latest days of the Roman republic the corn was bruised after being roasted. The pestle used for this purpose was somewhat pointed, and suspended by the aid of a ring to the extremity of a flexible lever, supported by an axle.[III_12]

From the time of Moses the Hebrews used grinding-stones: several passages of the Holy Scripture clearly indicate this. Among others: “No man shall take the nether or the upper millstone to pledge; for he taketh a man’s life to pledge.”[III_13] Another text shows that the Egyptians used grinding-stones with handles, at about the same period.[III_14] The Israelites, when in the Desert, employed the same means to pound manna,[III_15] and after their settlement in the Promised Land, these utensils served to grind corn.

The Greeks, following faithfully the system from which they had but slightly deviated, have honoured King Miletus as the inventor of grinding-stones;[III_16] the upper part was of wood, and armed with heads of iron nails. A passage of Homer would seem to lead us to believe that the grain was first crushed with rollers on stone slabs, which operation would naturally lead to the crushing of it between grinding-stones.[III_17] However this may be, these last were no doubt still scarce in the heroic times, since the same poet does not fail to inform us that one was to be seen in the gardens of Alcinous, chief of the Phæacians.[III_18] This kind of decoration would but very little please the taste of our modern horticulturists.

Nearly two centuries before our era, in the year of Rome 562, the Romans, victorious in Asia, brought with them handmills.[III_19] This conquest of industry soon made an immense stride, and to the labour of man succeeded by degrees the obedient aid of horses and asses. Hence the two kind of mills so often mentioned—by hand, manuales; by animal, iumentariæ[III_20]

Delighted with a discovery which supplied an important necessity of life, the Romans invented a divinity to whom they might show their gratitude, and Olympus was honoured with a new inmate: the goddess Mola, protectress and patroness of mills and millstones.[III_21]

{26}

Now Mola was one of a large family; she had several charming sisters, like herself, who could not endure living among the commoners, while Ganymede served ambrosia to their elder sister, or poured out for her the nectar of the gods. Besides, it cost so little to be made a goddess! A few grains of incense, more or less, who would grudge such a trifle? The Flamine of Jupiter, whom they consulted, was at first rather refractory. He feared the crowding of Olympus; he doubted whether polite intercourse could ever be established between gods of high birth and little divinities covered with flour; but when at last the high priest had ceased speaking, the deputation removed all scruples by a reasonable bribe, and the sisters of Mola were forthwith enrolled in the list of immortals, under the designation of well-beloved daughters of the god of war.[III_22] Mars was rather ungentlemanly on the occasion, but the high priest undertook to bring him to reason.

This took place about the end of May, and the Romans resolved to celebrate, from the 9th of the following June, the festival of the patroness of Roman millers, and of her sisters, the newly elected divinities; the ceremony was worthy of those for whose apotheosis it was instituted, and every year, on the same day, new rejoicings consecrated this great event.[III_23]

The mills ceased to turn and to grind, a profound silence reigned in the mills; the asses, patient and indefatigable movers of an incessant rotation, took a lively part, whether or no, in the festivals of which they became the principal actors. These honest creatures’ heads[III_24] were crowned with roses, and necklaces of little leaves encircled their necks and fell gracefully on their chests;[III_25] we need not add that, on this day, the thick bandages which generally covered the eyes of these useful labourers were removed.[III_26]

Independently of this annual solemnity, the asses, turners of the mills, had sometimes their windfalls,—that is to say, hours of holiday, during which they could freely graze on the neighbouring thistles. This happened when an awkward slave performed badly the duties of fanning his master, or spilt carelessly a few drops of Falernian wine when filling his cup. The unfortunate creature was immediately condemned to work at the mill;[III_27] he was deprived of his name, and received in lieu that of the quadruped he replaced—Asinus;[III_28] and the instrument of his sufferings, by a refinement of strange irony, was called his manger.[III_29]

It sometimes happened that a free man, reduced to extreme{27}

Pl. 5.
ASINUS OR JUMENTARIÆ MILL.

Pl. 6. PLAUTUS’S MILL.

indigence, had recourse to this hard occupation, in order to earn a living. Plautus was obliged to work at it, and we know that he wrote some of his comedies during the short moments of leisure allowed him by his master the miller.[III_30]

An important modification was subsequently made in the mechanism of mills: we mean hydraulic mills, whose introduction into Italy is of uncertain date, although Pomponius Sabinus asserts (but without proof), that this discovery took place in the reign of Julius Cæsar. They were known in Rome at the time of the Emperor Augustus, and Vitruvius mentions them.[III_31] More than sixty years afterwards, Pliny speaks of them as rare and extraordinary machines.[III_32]

Some writers have thought that hydraulæ, or hydromilæ, watermills, were invented by Vitruvius, and that this celebrated architect made experiments with them, which were forgotten or neglected after his death.[III_33] Curious readers, who are not afraid of the venerable dust with which time has covered many useful though despised books, will consult with benefit the learned treatise of Goetzius on the mills of the ancients, printed in the year 1730.[III_34]

Strabo, who flourished under the Emperor Augustus, tells us a watermill was to be seen near the town of Cabire and the palace of Mithridates.[III_35]

Nevertheless, this useful invention, which we could not now dispense with, made so little progress during four centuries that princes thought it a duty to protect, by several laws, those establishments, still rare, but which people began to appreciate. Honorius and Arcadius decreed, in 398, that any person who turned the water from mills for his own profit, should be punished by a fine of five pounds weight in gold; and that any magistrate encouraging such an act should pay a like sum.[III_36] The Emperor Zeno[III_37] maintained this law, and rendered it still more stringent by adding, that the edifices or land into which the water had been turned should be confiscated.[III_38]

It is to be regretted that the precise origin of the miller’s profession cannot be traced; but, alas! in almost all the arts which tend to preserve life, we discover the same uncertainty: we are ignorant of the period of their discovery, and it frequently happens that but few traces of their development remain. On the contrary, the dates of battles, or scourges which have decimated the human race, are certain enough: the stain of blood leaves an impression which can never be effaced.{28}

In the midst of the conflicting opinions of the writers of antiquity, what appears most probable is, that watermills were invented in Asia Minor, and that they were not really used in Rome till the reign of Honorius and Arcadius.

Under the rule of the Emperor Justinian, when the Goths besieged the Roman city,[III_39] the celebrated Belisarius thought of constructing some on the Tiber. The means which he employed were simple and ingenious. Two boats firmly fixed, at two feet distance from each other, caused the stream to give a rapid motion to the hydraulic wheel, suspended by its axle between these lateral points of support; and this wheel turned the mills.[III_40] This system differed but little from that of Vitruvius, which he described more than five centuries before, and is explained in a few words. A little wheel, fixed to the axle of the hydraulic wheel, turned a third wheel, adhering to the axle of the upper grindstone, and the corn fell between the two stones in passing from the hopper placed above.[III_41]

These grindstones were made of a kind of porous lava, which retained its roughness, or rather, its roughness was renewed, by the continual friction.[III_42]

The introduction of watermills, however, did not prevent the use of those worked by hand, which habit, cheapness, and facility of removal recommended: these antique mills of the Hebrews, the Egyptians, and the Greeks of the heroic times, were only five feet high. Each family was supplied with as many as they might require. In the residence of Ulysses, that great king of little Ithaca, there were as many as twelve. Women turned the mills, and were obliged to deliver a certain quantity of flour before leaving the task imposed on them.[III_43]

Corn was at first ground in a portative hand mill; by the Britons, women and young girls were employed in this kind of labour.[III_44]

It is, however, probable that watermills were known at a very early period in England. Strutt cites a passage from a charter by Ulfere, in 664, which warrants the supposition.[III_45]

It would be difficult to point out the precise date of the first employment of mills; nevertheless, Somner informs us, in his “Antiquities of Canterbury,”[III_46] that the Anglo-Normans of that place ground their corn. “There was,” says he, “sometime a windmill standing neare the nonnery without Ridingate, which the hospitall held by the grant of the nonnes there: the conditions mutually agreed upon, at the time of{29} the grant, were that the nonnes, bearing the fourth part of the charge of the mill, should reap the fourth part of the profit of it, &c. * * * and this about the reign of King John.”

The bran was separated from the flour by means of a sieve; the dough was made, and sent to the bakers to be baked. The poor contented themselves with cakes baked under the ashes.[III_47]

Something remains to be said of windmills. We will say but little on the subject: this aerial mechanism—which the knight-errant, Don Quixote, of imperishable memory, thought it necessary to fight with sword and lance—was unknown before the Christian era in any nation whose writers have transmitted to us the least traces of their civilisation; but nothing proves that windmills were unknown to others. This opinion seems to be well-founded, from a passage of the chronicler Winceslaus, who relates, in his “History of Bohemia,” that the first watermill raised in that country was in the year of Christ 718, and that no other was in use before (antea) but mills built on the summit of mountains, which were put in motion by the wind.[III_48] It appears, then, that there is some untruth in the assertion, that this sort of mill was introduced into Europe, about the year 1040, by the first Crusaders, on their return from the East.[III_49] At all events this question is no doubt very deserving the laborious search of the learned; it has but a secondary interest for the gastrophilist. It matters little to him whether he owes the grinding of his corn to the breath of a zephyr or to the slimy source of a river; all he requires is good flour, because it enters into a great number of culinary preparations—and, first of all, bread is made from it.{30}

IV.

MANIPULATION OF FLOUR.

Man has not always eaten fine wheaten bread, biscuits, or sponge cakes; and, for many centuries, the inexperience of his palate prevented his imagining or understanding those magiric combinations, that science of good living,[IV_1] which requires time and serious study. Nature makes us hungry; art creates, modifies, and directs the appetite—these are incontestable truths, which this work will serve to unfold, and, if necessary, to prove, should any of our readers unfortunately not be already convinced of the depth of these wise axioms.

Let us go no further back than the year 2000 before the Christian era, and enter together the tent of the father of nations—Abraham. We might lead you to the fire-side of each of the nineteen patriarchs who preceded him, but that would take us too far.

In the interior of this nomad dwelling, Sarah, the venerable companion of the Pastor-King, has just prepared, with flour and water, round pieces of flattened paste, which she places on the hearth, and covers afterwards with hot ashes.[IV_2] It was thus that princes and servants made bread in the East. The Jewish people who inhabited the Desert ate no other kind;[IV_3] and the Prophet Elijah, reposing under the shade of a juniper tree, appeased his hunger with this simple and primitive food.[IV_4] Sometimes, however, at certain periods of solemnity, the Hebrews used a gridiron, placed on the coals, or a frying-pan, into which they put the paste;[IV_5] but these various modes of cooking produced a kind of cake, dry, thin, and brittle,[IV_6] somewhat like the Jewish Passover cake, which was broken by the hand without the aid of a knife;[IV_7] they were called lechem, choice and chief food,[IV_8] and the mother of{31} the family generally renewed them each day.[IV_9] The inhabitants of the East thought so much of bread, that it was considered a special mark of regard and hospitality to the person to whom it was offered.[IV_10] Boaz says to Ruth: “At meal time come thou hither and eat of the bread, and dip thy morsel in the vinegar.”[IV_11]

Although the use of bread without leaven and baked under the ashes was common among the Jews,[IV_12] it is nevertheless evident that they knew and employed, at an early period, some substance to raise the dough, which they designated by the name of seor. It was, perhaps, flour diluted with water left to get sour. Pliny assures us that of all means employed by the ancients to render bread savoury and light, this is the most simple and easy.[IV_13]

It appears not unlikely that the Hebrews learned from the Egyptians how to prepare the leaven they made use of. The period at which an allusion is made to it for the first time, in the Bible, renders this supposition likely. It is when the people of God were about to escape from the slavery of the Egyptians, and are preparing to celebrate the Passover, on the eve of their setting out for the Desert.[IV_14] The Israelites, therefore, knew how to make bread more digestive and of better taste than is generally believed—not so good, perhaps, as our delicate fancy bread, but better than the clumsy lumps of paste baked under the ashes, in the frying-pan, or on the gridiron.[IV_15] They had also ovens at a very distant period of their history—some four thousand years ago.[IV_16] These ovens were made with bricks or clay; afterwards they used iron and brass;[IV_17] but nothing in the Holy Writings shows us that any one exercised among them the trade of a baker, at least at this early period, nor, indeed, very much later.

The chief baker or butler, whose punishment and death Joseph foretold, when he interpreted that officer’s dream, was an Egyptian, and belonged to King Pharaoh.[IV_18]

Hitherto an infallible book has been our guide; let us now dive into the dark and almost boundless regions of fabulous antiquity.

The most frightful god of which the fevered imagination of man could possibly form an idea—a god with the face and legs of a goat, the horrible Pan!—according to some credulous writers, taught mortals the art of making and baking bread. The name even of this food, they say, furnishes an incontestable proof of this assertion.[IV_19] You are mistaken, reply more sensible writers; it is in the Greek word pan,{32} signifying all, that we must seek the etymology of this nutritious substance, which accompanies all other aliments, takes their place if needful, and agrees equally with all mankind.[IV_20]

This, one would think, is conclusive; but the learned, the philologist, and every Procrustes of literature, protests against a halt with so fair a field before him. It is from the word pascere,[IV_21] proudly exclaims another interpreter, that the substantive, bread, is derived.[IV_22] This word has been rather disfigured on its way: think of the length of time it has been travelling down to us.

Ceres taught the Greeks how to cultivate corn; they learned from Megalarte and Megalomaze how to knead flour and bake it in ovens.[IV_23] The gratitude of the Bœotians erected statues and altars to their memories, and shortly after, Greece could boast of having obtained the most skilful bakers in the world. The bread of Athens and Megara had a well deserved reputation: its whiteness dazzled the eye, and its taste was exquisite.[IV_24] This voluptuous and fickle nation very soon began to tire of so intelligent and simple a manipulation, and must needs mix with the paste a host of ingredients which greatly altered its flavour: and seventy-two different sorts of bread[IV_25] took birth from the scientific association of milk, oil, honey, cheese, and wine with the best flour.[IV_26] All these varieties were called by the generic name of artos, bread; to which was added an epithet which prevented the mistaking of one kind for another.

The bread-market at Athens was very amusing; women (for the fair sex busied themselves with this trade) waited, seated, by the side of their baskets until Mercury should send them customers, and woe to those who came late, or whose evil genius led them to find fault with either the quality, quantity, or price of the goods. Have you ever heard the ladies of Billingsgate playing off their pleasant jokes on a timid countryman, or a foreigner, whose accent had betrayed him? It is a running fire of puns and crude picturesque expressions which nothing can resist; our Greek market-women would have been more than a match for them—can we bestow upon them greater praise?[IV_27]

Some of them sold azumos, a delicate sort of biscuit, but rather tasteless, prepared without leaven;[IV_28] others—irresistible syrens—invited children to taste of the relishing artolaganos, in which a renowned baker had the talent of introducing wine, pepper, oil, and milk.[IV_29]

{33} Here the sparkling eyes of a rich epicurean were on the look out for some escarites, a very light paste, seasoned with new sweet wine and honey,[IV_30] and which was relished even by fatigued appetites at the close of a repast.[IV_31] The poorer people made their choice among heaps of dolyres, or typhes: they were coarse compounds of rye and barley;[IV_32] the ladies of fashion (petites maitresses) preferred the puff cakes called placites,[IV_33] or the sweet melitutes, whose exquisite and perfumed flour was delicately kneaded with the precious honey of Mount Hymettus.[IV_34] Lastly, the robust workman of the Pyræus bought the tyrontes, bread mixed with cheese,[IV_35] which the higher classes of society in Athens abhorred, and which even the middling classes excluded from their tables.

Let us add to this imperfect enumeration, that the Greeks baked their bread in several different manners: some in ovens, others under ashes, over charcoal, or between two pieces of iron, similar to our gauffre moulds, and under a bell, or cover of some metal with a rim round the top, and fire over it.[IV_36] For making a batch of bread, they employed nine pounds six ounces of leaven to twelve bushels of flour.[IV_37] With regard to their ovens, in the construction of which they excelled, they always took particular care to place them near a handmill,[IV_38] in order that the various processes that the wheat had to undergo should take place with ease and promptitude.

The Romans were for a long time Pultiphagists, or eaters of gruel, &c.;[IV_39] and it would be difficult to ascertain with accuracy the precise period at which they gave a preference to bread; they no doubt knew of it before the year 365 of Rome, for, at the siege of the Capitol by the Gauls, Jupiter, who protected the besieged, thought of nothing better to get them out of their difficulties than to appear at night to their general, Manlius, and to give him the following advice: “Make,” said he, “bread with all the flour you have left in store, and throw it to the enemy to show them that Rome has no apprehension of being reduced by famine.” This stratagem, worthy of a Merry Andrew, pleased Manlius so much, that he immediately put it into execution. The Gauls fled, Master Jupiter was highly delighted with the trick he had played, and thereby the Romans got rid of this swarm of barbarians.[IV_40]

Whether this little story be true or not, the people of Romulus had a decided taste for gruel; it was a national dish, and was only discontinued to be given to the soldiers, defenders of the republic, when it was{34} perceived that their laborious duties required more substantial food.[IV_41] The Romans made their gruel of all kinds of flour.

King Numa (1715 B.C.), guided by the advice of the nymph, Egeria, taught his subjects the art of parching corn, of converting it into flour by means of mortars, and of making that gruel with which he liked to regale himself.

This good prince was rather fond of interfering in what did not concern him, and the royal compound was afterwards cooked in the public bakehouses, which the piety of the sovereign placed under the protection of the powerful Fornax, a goddess unknown till then, and who soon became the object of general and fervent worship.[IV_42]

There is but one step from gruel to bread: the Romans perceived it. Thus this favourite dish lost its reputation, and the worship of Fornax somewhat cooled. But, on the other hand, there was still the smell of cakes on all sides; cooking on the hearth, on the coals, in small bell-stoves, and in large baking pans, until ultimately they became acquainted with the use of ovens.[IV_43]

At last, Rome began to have them built, under the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, about 630 years before the Christian era. They were solid constructions, immoveable, and very like those of the present day.[IV_44] Men were employed to keep up the necessary degree of heat; and their useful profession (thanks to the strange caprices which so tyrannically rule the social hierarchy) became one of the vilest and most sordid occupations in the capital of the world.[IV_45] These ovens were ordered to be built far away from all edifices, in order to prevent accidents by fire;[IV_46] an excellent precaution, where so many incautious and merry old gossips came daily to bake their bread.

Once there, those worthy plebeians amused themselves by giving full scope to their noisy fun, slandering their neighbours freely and charitably, telling each other all the little scandal they had picked up here and there, among the good souls in their neighbourhood. Hence these public places of labour and incessant babbling were called the “gossip bakehouses.”[IV_47]

These joyous meetings continued until the arrival of Greek bakers, 170 years B.C., who followed the victorious armies of the republic on their return from Macedonia.[IV_48] These new operatives effected a complete revolution in the art of making bread: they reformed the taste of their masters, and, by degrees, the proverbial frugality of the{35} conquerors of the universe gave way to the exquisite researches and wonderful delicacies of those whom they had subdued.

The Romans perceived the importance of perpetuating the talent of these strangers, and converting it eventually into a national industry. With these views, they gave them Roman colleagues, and subsequently they were formed into a college, or sort of association, which no member could quit on any pretext whatever. The son followed his father’s profession, and he who married the daughter of a baker became one himself.[IV_49] Sometimes one of these privileged artisans was raised to the dignity of senator, as an honour to his colleagues; but in that case he was required to abandon his fortune to the person who took his place; he might, however, decline the dignity, and remain at his kneading-trough.[IV_50] All alliances with gladiators and comedians were interdicted them; and the law decreed that the delinquent guilty of such dishonour should be first scourged, then banished, and that his property should be confiscated for the benefit of the community.[IV_51] Finally, the prodigal baker was assimilated with the dishonest bankrupt, and expelled the college.[IV_52]

The above details on some of the dispositions of the law regarding this interesting corporation, sufficiently prove the importance that the Roman government attached to it, and wished it should always maintain.

The bakers of Rome received from the public granaries whatever they required, at a price fixed by the magistrate. If the officer charged with the distribution of it gave a bad quality, or exacted a bribe to supply good corn, that officer was disgraced, and he became forever a journeyman baker.[IV_53]

Independently of public bakeries, the number of which reached 329 under the reign of Augustus, there were also, in the houses of the wealthy, slaves whose sole occupation was the making of bread, and these slaves brought an exorbitant price when they excelled in their art.[IV_54] They used portable ovens, made of iron or earthenware, under which they placed red-hot coals. Sometimes they employed a round brass vessel with a cover, which was put under the flames. In the houses where the greatest luxury reigned, they had a kind of silver mould, from which the bread was taken, and served to the guests.[IV_55]

It is absolutely necessary to dive into the private life of the Roman people, and not to neglect any of their domestic customs (accounts of which are scattered here and there, in the writings of the more serious{36} historians, and among the dangerous frivolities of certain poets), if we wish to have a correct idea of the excessive refinement which the opulent classes evinced, even in the most ordinary things.

Modern nations are satisfied with the bread more or less white, and even bear, without much complaint, certain illicit mixtures, in which various heterogeneous substances are sometimes strangely amalgamated; but this was not the case in Rome. The prefect of provisions (præfectus annonæ) was scrupulously careful to see that the supply of bread was abundant; that it was of exact weight; that the manipulation of it was excellent; and that it was made of the best flour the public granaries contained.

As we have already observed, that was one of the most serious cares of the government on behalf of a people who only required two things—bread and the circus,[IV_56] and whose ferocity, when pressed by hunger, knew no bounds.[IV_57]

They studied carefully every modification that the art of baking might seem to require: they examined the leaven in use, and experimented with new kinds. The following are the compositions Pliny has transmitted to us:—

The Romans thought much of millet for their leaven; they mixed it with sweet wine, in which they let it ferment a year.

They employed, also, wheat bran, soaked for three days in sweet white wine, and dried in the sun. Of this they diluted a certain quantity at the time of making bread, which was left to ferment in the best wheat flour, and afterwards mixed with the entire mass.

The leavens just mentioned were made during the vintage; the rest of the year they were replaced by the following:—A dish containing two pounds of barley paste was placed on red-hot coals, and heated until ebulition commenced. It was put into vessels till it became sour.

Very often leaven was procured from dough just made. A piece was taken from the mass previous to salt being added; it was then left to turn sour, and might be used the next day.

The celebrated naturalist who supplies these details, tells us that, in his time, the Gauls and Spaniards, after having made a drink from wheat, saved the scum to raise the dough, and that their bread was the lightest of all.[IV_58]

It would be difficult to form an idea of the prodigious luxury which Rome introduced into an aliment so common, and of such universal{37} use as bread. Its name, its form, and flavour indicated the various ranks of society to which it belonged.[IV_59] There was the senator’s bread, that of the knights, of the citizens, of the people, and that of the peasants.[IV_60]

Let us go together under the vast galleries supported by those magnificent arcades.[IV_61] The ediles have preceded us; they are visiting the shops;[IV_62] it is the Forum Pistrinum, or bread-market. The year is good: a septier (five bushels) of wheat is only twenty-five shillings,[IV_63] and provisions of all kinds abound in Rome. Foreigners, also, are here, attracted by curiosity; for Vespasian is preparing to deposit with solemnity the spoils of Jerusalem in the temple of Peace.[IV_64]

In the middle of the inclosure you see the statue of Vesta, the goddess worshipped by bakers.[IV_65] In the front, and round the gallery, those open stalls are loaded with a number of round loaves of the same form and weight: they are all five inches in thickness; the top is divided by eight notches—that is to say, they are first divided across, and the four parts are again subdivided.[IV_66] These lines are made in the dough, so that they may be more easily broken.

The Roman gentry and shopkeepers give the preference to this sort of household bread, simply composed of flour, water, and salt.[IV_67]

You perceive, here and there, several baskets, full of heavy biscuits; they are called autopyron; it is a coarse, black food, composed of bran mixed with a little flour, and made expressly for the dogs and slaves.[IV_68]

Do you see that colossal-looking man, with enormous limbs, who is walking about with an air of stupidity, and whose small head is covered with scars? The dealers know his profession, and one of them offers him the athletæ’s bread; it is kneaded, without leaven, with soft, white curd cheese, and is a coarse, heavy food, which that class of people seem to partake of with great delight.[IV_69] That stout baker before us occupies two of the most spacious shops in the market, on the left of the statue; he is one of the richest members of the corporation, and is the principal purveyor for the camp and army. Those large sacks, placed before him with so much symmetry, contain the buccellatum biscuit, or dried bread for the troops.[IV_70]

His neighbour (called the Greek), was born at Athens; he is the fashionable purveyor to the princes, senators, and sybarites of Rome. No one understands so well as himself the art of mixing salt, oil, and{38} milk with the best wheaten flour; an exquisite combination, which produces the celebrated bread of Cappadocia, served only on the tables of the wealthy.[IV_71] With the artoplites, a light bread, made with the best wheaten flour, and baked in a mould, it is the only kind of which refined persons can partake.[IV_72] If we were not afraid of tiring you, we could point out many other sorts of bread which abound in the Forum Pistrinum, for there is some for all tastes and classes, from the artopticii, baked in moulds,[IV_73] a most nutritious and digestive bread, down to the furfuraceus, a mass of indigestible bran that the wildest savages among the Scythians could not have swallowed with impunity.

We should have spoken to you of the astrologicus bread, the paste of which is similar to that we use in our days to make fritters, commonly called batter.

Also of the cacabaceus, which is indebted for its agreeable and spicy flavour to the water, which is previously boiled in a kind of bronzed stewpan; and the siligineus bread, made of the best flour. Its manipulation is difficult and tedious; no matter—the epicurean prefers it, when, by chance, he happens to be hungry.[IV_74]

Neither ought we to forget the panis madidus, a species of paste made of milk and flour, with which the fashionable ladies and effeminate dandies covered their faces before going to bed, to preserve the freshness and beauty of their complexion.[IV_75]

But this enumeration may appear to you idle and endless; let us, therefore, leave the market and assist at the distribution of bread civilis among the people, of which thirteen ounces is given to each person;[IV_76] we will then give a rapid glance at the various other cereals besides wheat, which, in some shape or other, are converted into food.

The customs of the middle ages cannot be better illustrated than by adding the following curious notes:

The Norman kings subjected the bakers to very severe laws with{39}

Pl. 7.

respect to the weight and price of bread. The first offence was punished by the confiscation of their bread; the second by a fine; and the third by the pillory.[IV_77]

Saint Louis made statutes for the bakers of Paris. He forbade them to bake on Sunday or any festival day, under pain of a fine of eighteen sous (about eight pence), and a certain quantity of bread. But he gave them permission to open their shops and sell every day of the year without exception.[IV_78]

In the 17th century, a new regulation was made concerning bakers; they were to bake “daily, and have always on sale three kinds of bread, viz., that known as pain de chalis, of twelve ounces; pain de chapitre, of ten ounces; and brownish household bread, of sixteen ounces. The price of each to be douze deniers (a halfpenny), marked by the baker with his own particular mark.” They were also permitted to make “rolls and other sorts,” but not to expose them for sale “under pain of being fined four hundred Paris livres (a little more than twelve pounds sterling).”[IV_79]

Master-bakers were admitted at Paris, in the 14th century, in the following manner:—

When a young man had been successively winnower, sifter, kneader, and foreman, he could, by paying a certain amount to the king as legiance money, become an aspirant-baker, and commence business on his own account. Four years after, he was received as master by going through certain formalities. On a given day, he set out from his house, followed by all the bakers of the town, and repaired to the residence of the master of the bakers, to whom he presented a new pot filled with nuts, saying: “Master, I have accomplished my four years; here is my pot of nuts.” Then the master of the bakers asked the secretary of the trade whether that were true, and having received a reply in the affirmative, the master of the bakers returned the pot to the aspirant, who broke it against the wall, and was at once reckoned amongst the masters.

Let us reckon up the different kinds of bread that were in use at that epoch:

The bread made simply with flour, water, salt, and yeast—the common bread; the best was made at Chailly or Gonesse.

The bread cooked in hot water—pain échaudé (in England, we should call it baked dumpling).{40}

The bread made of the finest flour, beaten a long time with two sticks—pounded bread.

The bread made of the very finest and purest flour (biscuit flour) slightly baked—roll bread.

The bread made of fine flour, kneaded with butter, and sprinkled with whole wheat—sheep bread.

The bread made of fine flour, eggs and milk—Christmas bread.

And lastly, rye bread, kneaded with spice, honey, or sugar—gingerbread.[IV_80]

{41}

V.

FRUMENTA.

Do not be alarmed, fair readers, at the Latin noun which heads this chapter: tolerate it in consideration of our promise seldom to solicit a like favour. It meant, among the Latins, all the plants which produce ears of corn,[V_1] the seeds of which can be converted into flour.[V_2] Clearly there never was a more innocent expression.

Barley seems to claim the first place among cereals of the second order; the Greeks looked upon it as the happy symbol of fertility,[V_3] and the ancient inhabitants of Italy gave it a name (hordeum) which, perhaps, recalled to their mind the use mankind made of it before wheat was known (exordium).[V_4]

The Jews had a great esteem for barley, and sacred history generally assimilates it to wheat, when the fruits of the earth are mentioned. Thus a beloved spot produces both these plants:[V_5] Shobi offered to David wheat and barley;[V_6] and Solomon promises twenty thousand sacks of wheat and as much barley to the workmen charged with cutting down the cedars of Lebanon.[V_7]

The Greeks and Romans did not carry their love for this grain so far as the Hebrews. In Rome it was the food of the flocks and cowards.[V_8] In Lacedæmon and at Athens the gladiators and common people had no other aliment;[V_9] they made it into barley-gruel (alphiton), the composition of which was very simple, and would not probably tempt a modern Lucullus. Here is the recipe of this ancient and national dish:—

Dry, near the fire or in the oven, twenty pounds of barley flour, then parch it. Add three pounds of linseed meal, half a pound of coriander{42} seed, two ounces of salt, and the quantity of water necessary.[V_10] To this mixture of ingredients the Italian epicureans added a little millet, so as to give the paste more cohesion and delicacy.[V_11]

This culinary preparation must appear rather unworthy of those nations who so completely eclipsed all the gastronomic glories of the universe; wherefore let us hasten to reinstate them as men of taste and exquisite intelligence, by citing a more learned combination, which obtained the judicious patronage of the Archestrates and Apicii:—

Take pearl barley, pound it in a mortar, make use of the flour only, and put it in a saucepan; pour on it by degrees some of the best oil; with that certainty which science alone gives to the hand, and stir it carefully, whilst a slow, equal fire performs the great work of cookery. Be, above all, attentive to enrich it, at proper intervals, with a delicate gravy extracted from a young fat chicken or from a succulent lamb. Unceasingly watch, lest the ebullition, by going on too rapidly, force this delightful mixture to overflow the side of the vessel; and when your practised palate informs you that it is worthy of your guests, present it to their impatient sensuality.[V_12]

So it appears the ancients were acquainted with pearl barley, and barley water; the latter took the name of diet drink (ptisana), which we only associate with melancholy reminiscences.[V_13] Hippocrates was not only in raptures with the virtues and properties of this aliment,[V_14] but he also conferred the highest praise on that sweet and insipid drink, which our doctors order their patients, as did the oracle of Cos, and which at that time was called “barley broth.”[V_15]

Oats occupied an honourable place after barley. Pliny fancied these two plants so analogous, that the owner of a field who had sown barley might find oats at the time of harvest, whilst precisely the reverse might happen to his neighbour.[V_16] Nature, in our days, is not subject to such frolics; and our farmers are tolerably certain that, by care, labour, and God’s assistance, they will gather from the soil what they have sown.

“In order to develop a strong flavour of vanille in black oats, wash this seed, boil it a moment in water, and employ the decoction as you would potato flour, and it will form excellent creams.

“In Normandy and Lower Britany they make with flour of oats a delicious soup. The following is the manner they obtain it. They take white oats and put them in the oven; when sufficiently dried, they are fanned, cleaned, and carried to a mill, the grinders of which are freshly{43} sharpened. The miller takes care to hold them a little way off, in order that they may not crush the grain, and that this last may preserve the shape of rice; by this means they remove the whole of the pellicle.”—Parmentier.

The Greeks and Romans knew how to appreciate oatmeal:[V_17] they used it to make a kind of gruel, such as we have already described, and also a substantial thick milk, which they prepared as we do.[V_18]

Rice was also held in great esteem by them: they considered it as a food very beneficial to the chest; therefore it was recommended in cases of consumption, and to persons subject to spitting of blood.[V_19]

Millet, so called from the multiplicity of its seeds,[V_20] abounded more particularly in Gaul, in the time of Strabo.[V_21] Pliny pretends that no grain swells so much in cooking, and he assures us that sixty pounds of bread was obtained from a single bushel of millet, weighing only twenty pounds.[V_22] This naturalist also speaks of another kind of millet, coming originally from India, and which had only been in cultivation ten years in Italy. The stalk resembled that of the reed, and often attained the height of ten feet; its fecundity was such that a single grain produced innumerable ears of corn;[V_23] therefore, if so prolific, and capable of making good and economical food, why should it not be, in 1858, cultivated largely wherever the climate may allow it?

Some writers place Panic Grass among the wheats, because certain nations made bread of it.[V_24] The higher classes of Rome and Athens always resisted this bad taste. They preferred spelt, or red wheat, a super-excellent grain,[V_25] which was much honoured by the Latins, if we can credit the charming letter, written by Pliny the younger, to Septilius Clarus, on the occasion of a dinner, where the latter failed to join the guests. Among other delicate dishes with which he desired to treat his friend, he had ordered a spelt cake to be made.[V_26] This same flour was the base of the Carthaginian pudding; which the reader may taste if he will, here is the recipe:—

Carthaginian Pudding.—Put a pound of red wheat flour into water; when it has soaked some time, place it in a wooden bowl, add three pounds of cream cheese, half a pound of honey, and one egg; beat this mixture well together, and cook it on a slow fire in a stewpan.[V_27] Should this dish not be sufficiently delicate, try the following:—

When you have sifted some spelt flour, put it in a wooden vessel, with some water, which you must renew twice a day for ten days. At{44} the end of that time squeeze out all the water, and place the paste in another vessel; reduce it to the consistence of thick lees, pass it through a piece of new linen, and repeat this last operation; dry it in the sun, and then boil it in milk.[V_28]

As regards the exact seasoning of this exquisite Roman dish, it is your own genius which must inspire you with the proportions.

Let us not omit to notice the Erupmon of the Greeks, the Irion of the Latins, the Indian Wheat of the moderns. This plant produces a wholesome and easily digestible food; it was well known in Italy in the time of Pliny,[V_29] at which period the peasants used to make a crisp sort of heavy bread, probably somewhat similar to that which is still used in the south of France.

Since the famine of 1847 great attention has been paid to this flour; much was imported into England from America, where it is used in domestic economy; when green, its milky pulp is an excellent food: the various advantages of this flour, however, are not sufficiently developed to give all the benefit of its goodness to the world; habit and prejudice assist materially to prevent its being generally employed.

The Romans also ate it as hasty-pudding, parched or roasted, with a little salt. A writer equally remarkable for his elegant and easy style, as well as for the justness of his observations, informs us that, in our days, the Indian inhabitants of the unfruitful plains of Marwar never dress Indian corn in any other way.[V_30]

Such are the principal graminea which the ancients thought worthy of their attention, or allowed to appear on their tables, with more or less honour according to the degree of esteem in which they were held. It is probable that the cooks in the great gastronomic period of Rome and Athens, who knew so well the capricious nature of their masters’ palates,[V_31] had to borrow from magiric chemistry, then so flourishing, some wonderful means of giving to various kinds of cereals a culinary value they now no longer possess—what might we not expect from a Thimbron,[V_32] a Mithoecus,[V_33] a Soterides?[V_34] This latter performed a feat which does him too much honour to be unnoticed here.

The King of Bithynia, Nicomedes, was taken with a strange, invincible, and imperious longing which admitted of no delay; he ordered his cook, Soterides, to be sent for, and commanded him to prepare instantly a dish of loaches. “Loaches, Sire!” cried the skilful, yet terrified cook; “by all the gods, protectors of the kingdom, where can I procure these fish{45} at this late hour of the night?” Kings ill brook resistance to their will.[V_35] Nicomedes was not celebrated for patience when pressed by hunger. “Give me loaches, I say,” replied he, with a hollow and terrible voice; “or else——” and his clear, fearful, pantomimic expression made the unfortunate cook understand too well that he must either obey or immediately deliver up his head to the provost of the palace. The alternative was embarrassing; nevertheless, Soterides thought how to get out of the scrape. He shut himself up in his laboratory, peeled some long radishes, and with extraordinary address gave them the form of the fatal fish, seasoning them with oil, salt, black pepper, and doubtless several other ingredients, the secret of which the illustrious chef has not handed down to posterity. Then, holding in his hand a dish of irreproachable-looking fried fish, he boldly presented himself before the prince, who was walking up and down with hasty strides awaiting his arrival. The King of the Bithynians ate up the whole, and the next day he condescended to inform his court that he never had loaches served he so much liked.[V_36] This digression, which the reader will kindly pardon, sufficiently shows to what height the art of ancient cookery was carried, and of which this work will furnish new and abundant proofs.

The cereals having had so much of our attention, we have now to consider those grains or seeds which serve as the bases or necessary adjuncts to different dishes.{46}

VI.

GRAINS: SEEDS.

One of the most important was Mustard seed. Pythagoras maintains (and no one has contradicted his assertion) that this seed occupied the first rank amongst alimentary substances which exercise a prompt influence on the brain.[VI_1] Indeed the ancients attributed to it the same qualities that we do at the present day.

Mustard, according to their opinion, excites the appetite, gives piquancy to meat, strengthens the stomach, and facilitates digestion. It is better suited, say they, to bilious constitutions than to lymphatic persons; and they recommended its use in summer, rather than in winter.[VI_2]

The good Pliny, always disposed to adopt, without much examination, any stories, provided they were but slightly exaggerated, was convinced, and affirms, with his accustomed good humour, that this plant is a sovereign remedy against the bite of the most venomous serpents: it is only necessary to apply it to the wound. And, again, if taken inwardly, there is nothing to fear from the poisonous effects of certain mushrooms.[VI_3] The doctors of the 19th century are, apparently, little inclined to adopt the method recommended by the worthy naturalist.

Mustard seed is only mentioned in the Bible as a term of comparison; its alimentary qualities are nowhere indicated.[VI_4]

The Romans, and other nations after them, fermented this seed in new sweet wine. It is from this, perhaps, we must seek for the origin of the word mustard, “mustum ardens” (burning wine)[VI_5]; some gastronomic writers give it another derivation, not generally adopted. This{47} condiment, say they, was formerly called sauve or senevé. It was only towards the close of the 14th century that this name was changed. Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, marching against the inhabitants of Ghent, who had revolted from him, and the city of Dijon having supplied him for this expedition with a thousand men-at-arms, the prince, in gratitude, granted to that city, amongst other privileges, that of bearing his arms, with his motto, “Moult me tarde.” The whole of this was carved on the principal gate of Dijon, but an accident having destroyed the middle word, the two others moult tarde caused many a smile at the expense of the Dijonnais; and as they traded in senevé (mustard), this grain was called in derision moutarde, when it came from Dijon, a name it has preserved ever since.[VI_6] If this etymology is not true, at least it is ingenious.

Coriander, amongst the Romans, appears to have possessed the same property as mustard, that is to say, they considered it was strengthening and digestive.[VI_7] They employed it also in a very useful manner during the great heat of summer: they mixed it with vinegar, after it had been well bruised or pounded, and laid it over any kind of meat, which this coating preserved in a perfect state of freshness.[VI_8]

Pliny classifies the bitter seed of the Lupin as a grain pertaining to that of wheat;[VI_9] and if you soak it, he says, in boiling water, it becomes so mild that it can be eaten.[VI_10] Zeno, of Citium, was of the same opinion. This philosopher, with all his wisdom, could not help showing his bad temper, even towards his best friends at times, but was very affable after he had quaffed several cups of delicious wine. One day he was asked for an explanation of this contrast in his temper. “That is very simple,” he replied; “I am of the same nature as the lupins: their bitterness is insupportable before they are soaked, but they are of an exquisite mildness when they have been well steeped.”[VI_11]

We strongly doubt, nevertheless, whether this plant has ever been honoured by the patronage of connoisseurs and people of delicate taste; a very high authority in cookery—Lycophon, of Chalcis—used to say, with a kind of disdain, that this despicable plant was hardly good enough for the common fare of the mob, or to feast the guests at a beggar’s table.[VI_12]

It was principally used as food for cattle, and not without reason, if it be true that twenty pounds of lupins are sufficient to fatten an ox.[VI_13]

The lovers of etymology, who may be classified in the family of{48} readers of logogriphs, were in raptures at finding the following: “The Latin name of Lupinus has been given to this grain because the lupin wears out and destroys the land nearly as the wolf destroys and devours the flocks; whereupon they exclaimed, with pride, ‘Lupinus à lupo!’ ”[VI_14]

At the period when the gods did not exact much, but were contented with humble offerings, men placed on the altars loaves made of Linseed meal; a treat the immortals gratefully accepted, though certainly it would not much tempt us[VI_15] of the present day.

The Asiatics afterwards thought of pounding the linseed, frying it, and mixing it with honey; these cakes seemed to them too good for their divinities, so they ate them themselves.[VI_16]

In the time of Pliny, the Lombards and Piedmontese ate this miserable bread of the gods, and even found in it a most agreeable flavour:[VI_17] these nations have since improved their taste.

Shall we mention Hempseed, the Cannabis of the ancients, which was served fried for dessert?[VI_18] That hemp should be spun and made into ropes, well and good; but to regale one’s-self with it after dinner,—when the stomach is overloaded with food, and hardly moved from its lethargic quietude by the appearance of the most provoking viands that art can invent—what depravity! What strange perversion of the most simple elements of gastronomy!

The Arabs, that wandering nation, who are not yet acquainted with the roasting-spit, nor the voluptuousness of a delicious repast, formerly intoxicated themselves with a beverage extracted from linseed;[VI_19] we, who are in possession of generous wine, let us deplore such excesses, and not imitate them.{49}

VII.

VEGETABLES.

All nations have sown vegetables, and judged them worthy of their particular attention; sometimes they have even confounded many of these plants with the cereals, because they were converted into flour and bread,[VII_1] especially in time of famine.[VII_2]

After the Deluge, when God made a covenant with Noah he said, with respect to the food of man:—“Even as the green herb have I given you all things;[VII_3]” and, subsequently to that epoch, the holy writers frequently demonstrate, in their simple and interesting style, the various uses which the Hebrews made of vegetables. Esau, pressed by hunger, sold his birth-right to Jacob for a dish of lentils.[VII_4]

Among the presents which David received from Shobi, were beans, lentils, and parched pulse.[VII_5]

The four Hebrew children were fed with vegetables, at the court of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.[VII_6] It is sufficient, we think, to indicate these passages, without uselessly increasing the number.

The heroes of Homer, those men covered with iron and brass, whose terrible blows dealt death and desolation, reposed after their exploits, partaking of a dish of beans or a plate of peas.[VII_7] Happy simplicity of the Homeric ages! Patrocles peeled onions! Achilles washed cabbages! and the wise Ulysses roasted, with his own hands, a sirloin of beef!

One day the son of Thetis received under his tent a deputation sent by the Greeks, to entreat him to be friends with Agamemnon. The young hero, who could only be accused of a little pride and passion,{50} invited these worthy personages to dinner, and, with the assistance of his friend, gave them a magnificent banquet, in which vegetables occupied a most conspicuous place.[VII_8]

Sixteen Greek authors have devoted their vigils to profound researches concerning the qualities of these useful plants; their works have not been transmitted to us, but their names are to be found inscribed in the gastronomic treasure which Athenæus—that grammarian, philosopher, and epicurean—has bequeathed to the meditations of posterity.[VII_9]

But it is principally with the Romans that this interesting branch of the magiric art flourished. They have told us that this great family of herbs took the name of vegetables (legumina), because they were chosen and picked by the hand;[VII_10] and their most celebrated horticulturists have prided themselves on the preparation of the ground to which they were confided, on the attention which they claimed, and on the Hygeian virtues which experience attributed to them. Heathen theology, too, consecrated several of them to the solemnities of their religion, and some nations even considered them worthy of their homage and the fumes of incense.[VII_11]

Virgil himself seems to regret his inability to sing of gardens and vegetables. Perhaps a rapid sketch of what the great poet says on this subject, may not be misplaced here.

One more fact will serve to show to what extent the Romans carried their enthusiastic affection for leguminous plants: we know that illustrious families did not disdain to borrow their names from them. The appellations, Fabius, Cicero, and Lentulus, thus enhanced the humble{51} renown of beans (faba), peas (cicer arietinum), and lentils (lenticula).[VII_13] The eminent orator we have just named gave the preference one day to a dish of beet-root, instead of oysters and lampreys, of which he was passionately fond.[VII_14] It is true that, since the promulgation of the Licinian law,[VII_15] which allowed but little meat and plenty of vegetables, the voluptuaries of Rome invented most astonishing ragouts of mushrooms and pot-herbs. So true is it that the genius of man develops itself more particularly under difficult circumstances, and that the art of cookery owes, perhaps, the perfection and glory which it has attained to the impediments with which its formidable enemy, frugality, seems always ready to surround it.

Apicius, that profound culinary chemist, who nobly expended immense treasures in inventing new dishes, and who killed himself[VII_16] because the remainder of his fortune was not sufficient for him (though to another it would have seemed magnificent)—Apicius shows us what he believed to be the most suitable manner of preserving vegetables. “Choose them,” he says, “before they are perfectly ripe, put them in a vessel coated with pitch, and cover it hermetically.”[VII_17]

The reader will decide for himself between this process and those which science has since discovered.

The capitulars (or statutes) of Charlemagne enter, on the subject of vegetables, into some instructive details. They inform us that lettuces, cresses, endive, parsley, chervil, carrots, leeks, turnips, onions, garlic, scallions, and eschalots, were nowhere to be found, except in the emperor’s kitchen-gardens. Charlemagne had all those vegetables sold, and derived from them a very considerable revenue.[VII_18]

Anderson makes an observation (under the date 1548), which deserves to be noticed here, were it only on account of its singularity. “The English,” says he, “cultivated scarcely any vegetable before the last two centuries. At the commencement of the reign of Henry VIII., neither salad, nor carrots, nor cabbages, nor radishes, nor any other comestibles of a like nature, were grown in any part of the kingdom; they came from Holland and Flanders.”

According to the author of a project, printed in London in 1723, in 8vo., “for the relief of the poor, and the payment of old debts, without the creation of new taxes,” Queen Catherine herself could not procure a salad for her dinner. The king was obliged to send over{52} to Holland for a gardener to cultivate those pot-herbs, with which England is, perhaps, better furnished now than any other country in Europe.

Anderson asserts (1660) that cauliflowers were not known in England until about the time of the Restoration. And, lastly, the author of the “State of England,” printed in 1768, remarks that asparagus and artichokes were only introduced a few years antecedent to that date.{53}

VIII.

DRIED VEGETABLES.

BEANS.

This innocent vegetable, which with us certainly awakens no lugubrious thoughts, was formerly consecrated to the dead. It was offered in sacrifices to the infernal gods, and its mysterious virtues evoked by night, spirits, and shadows.[VIII_1] The Flamen of Jupiter could not eat it, and he was forbidden to touch a bean, or even to pronounce its name;[VIII_2] for the fatal plant contains a little black spot, which is no other than a noxious character—a type of death.[VIII_3]

Pythagoras and his followers carefully avoided this dismal food, in the fear of submitting a father, sister, or beloved wife to the danger of a cruel mastication;[VIII_4] for who knew where wandering souls might rest during the course of their numerous transmigrations.

Grave writers say the cause of this abstinence is, that beans are difficult of digestion; that they stupify those who make use of them as food; and that hens who eat them cease to lay eggs.[VIII_5] What more shall we say? Hippocrates, wise as he certainly was, had some of these strange fears, and he trembled for his patients when beans were in blossom.[VIII_6]

In spite of such ridiculous prejudices, this plant had numerous and enlightened defenders. When green, it was served on tables renowned for delicacies; and, when fully ripe, it frequently replaced both wheat and other corn.[VIII_7] One of the festivals of Apollo—the Pyanepsia—owed its origin and pomp to the bean. This vegetable then obtained preeminence{54} over all that were boiled in the saucepan, and offered to the God of Day and the Fine Arts.[VIII_8] Is it possible to imagine a more brilliant rehabilitation?

If we are to believe Isidorus, this plant was the first culinary vegetable of which man made use;[VIII_9] he was, therefore, bound to preserve a grateful remembrance of it.

King David did not deem it unworthy of him,[VIII_10] and the Prophet Ezekiel was commanded to mix it with the different grains of which he made his bread.[VIII_11]

We possess few certain indications proving the different culinary combinations to which beans gave rise among the ancients. All we know is, that they ate them boiled,[VIII_12] perhaps with bacon; raw,[VIII_13] with salt, we should imagine; or fried[VIII_14] with fat, butter, or oil.

Two kinds especially attracted the attention of true connoisseurs of that class of gourmets elect, whose palate is ever testing, and whose sure taste detects and appreciates shades, of almost imperceptible tenuity—first, the bean of Egypt, recommended for its rich, nutritious, and wholesome pulp; this bean was also cultivated in Syria and Cilicia:[VIII_15] and secondly, the Greek bean, which passed at Rome for a most delicious dish.[VIII_16] Certain gastronomists, however, preferred another vegetable of which we are going to speak.

Ever since the middle ages the bean has played a very important part in the famous “Twelfth-night cake,” almost all over Europe. The ephemeral royalty it bestowed was often sung by the poets, and consecrated in chronicles. Thomas Randolph informs us that Lady Flemyng was queen of the bean in 1568.[VIII_17] Some days after the Duke of Guise was assassinated by Poltrot. History has its puerilities as well as its great tragedies.

The Spaniards had also their Twelfth-night cake. When John, Duke of Braganza, had obtained the crown of Portugal (1640), Philip IV. of Spain informed Count Olivares of the event, and added, as if it were a consolation for the loss of a kingdom, that this new sovereign was nothing more than a “king of the bean.”[VIII_18] Philip was mistaken.

These cakes were made in former days nearly in the same manner that we make them now. Sometimes they contained honey, flour, ginger, and pepper. One portion was for God, another for the Holy Virgin, and three others for the Magi; that is to say, they gave all these portions to the poor.[VIII_19]

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In England the cake was often full of raisins, among which one bean and one pea were introduced.

“Cut the cake,” says Melibœus to Nisa; “who hath the beane shal be kinge; and where the peaze is, shal be queene.”[VIII_20]

“At the present day the bean is one of the vegetables most cultivated in Egypt and Italy. At Naples, as in Egypt, they are eaten raw when young, and the large ones cooked and grilled in the oven. They are publicly sold already cooked.”—Leman.

HARICOTS.

It is well known that Alexander the Great was fond of travelling, and that he was generally accompanied in his peregrinations by a certain number of soldiers, who occasionally took for him, on his route, cities, provinces, and sometimes kingdoms. It happened, one day, that as the Macedonian prince—worthy pupil of Aristotle—was herbalizing in India, his eyes fell upon a field of haricots, which appeared to him very inviting. It was the first time that he had seen this plant, and he immediately ordered his cook to prepare a dish of them—we do not know with what sauce; but he thought them good, and, thanks to this great conqueror, Europe was enriched with a new vegetable.[VIII_21]

Virgil was doubtless ignorant of this noble origin, when he decried haricots severely, by qualifying them so disgracefully.[VIII_22] It is true that the lower classes of people, who were very fond of them, did great injury to their reputation; for things the most exquisite soon lose their value when they fall within the reach of the vulgar. It is thus with a pleasing melody—when given up to the barbarous and melancholy street organs it ceases to charm the ears of drawing-room fashionables. The same again with a plaintive ballad—it loses its attraction the moment a street Orpheus begins to murder it with his Stentorian bawl.

Let it not be thought, however, that the plant of which we speak was exclusively reserved for the vulgar appetite. Oh, no! the Greeks and Latins had too much good taste for that. The former allowed it a distinguished place on their tables, together with figs, and other side{56} dishes. They only required that haricots should be young, tender, and green.[VIII_23]

In Rome they were preserved with vinegar and garum; and, prepared in this manner, they excited the appetites of the guests at the beginning of the repast.[VIII_24] Moreover, it was admitted that this vegetable was much more wholesome than beans, that the stomach was less fatigued by it, and that persons of delicate constitutions might partake of it without fear. Certain amateurs even pretended that no vegetable was to be compared to haricots;[VIII_25] but others differed from them on this point; and the latter, right or wrong, pronounced in favour of peas.

PEAS.

Green peas, we are sorry to say, were not appreciated as they deserved to be by the Romans.[VIII_26] It was reserved principally for our century to discover their value, to cultivate them with care, and to force nature to give them to us before the appointed time. This plant was hardly known in 1550. Since that period, the gardener, Michaux, undertook to bring it into repute. For some time in France it was called only by the name of this worthy man.[VIII_27]

Before that it was an unappreciated vegetable; it came forth, blossomed, and disappeared, without utility and without renown.

It was not thus with grey peas (pois chiche), which flourished at a very remote period, and are mentioned in the sacred writings.[VIII_28] The common people of Rome and Greece made them their ordinary food. They ate them boiled or fried; a rather disagreeable dish, according to the caustic Martial,[VIII_29] who, however, speaks with disdain of every kind of peas, in whatsoever manner they may be prepared.

Nevertheless, the satirical humour of this celebrated poet did not prevent this vegetable from being universally sold; and men, women, and children regaled, and even gorged, themselves, with fried grey peas,[VIII_30] or ram peas (cicer arietinum), a singular name, for which they were indebted to the slight asperity remarkable in each of the grains.[VIII_31]

At the Circus, and in the theatres, they were sold at a low price to the spectators, whom it seemed impossible to satiate with this delicacy,{57} although it has so little attraction for us.[VIII_32] In short, the nation of kings had so decided a taste for grey peas, that those who coveted public employment did not fail to distribute them gratuitously to the people, in order to obtain their suffrages.[VIII_33] We must acknowledge that in those days votes were obtained at a very cheap rate.

LENTILS.

The Egyptians, whose ideas were sometimes most eccentric, imagined it was sufficient to feed children with lentils to enlighten their minds, open their hearts, and render them cheerful. That people, therefore, consumed an immense quantity of this vegetable, which from infancy had been their principal food.[VIII_34]

The Greeks also highly esteemed this aliment, and their ancient philosophers regaled themselves with lentils. Zeno would not trust to any one the cooking of them; it is true that the stoics had for their maxim: “A wise man acts always with reason, and prepares his lentils himself.”[VIII_35] We must confess that the great wit of these words escapes us, although we are willing to believe there is some in them.

However it may be, lentils were abundant in Greece and in the East; and many persons, otherwise very sensible, maintained, with the most serious countenance in the world, that they softened the temper and disposed the mind to study.[VIII_36]

It is hardly necessary to observe that this plant was well known to the Hebrews. The red pottage of lentils for which Esau sold his birthright,[VIII_37] the present of Shobi to David,[VIII_38] the victory of Shammah in the field of lentils,[VIII_39] and, lastly, the bread of Ezekiel,[VIII_40] sufficiently prove that the Jews numbered this vegetable as one of those in ordinary use among them.

The Romans had not the same esteem for it as the nations we have mentioned. According to them, the moisture in lentils could only cause heaviness to the mind, and render men reserved, indolent, and lazy. The name of this vegetable pretty well shows, they said, the bad effect it produces. Lentil derives its origin from the word lentus (slow),[VIII_41] “Lens a lente.”

And, as if enough had not been alleged to disgrace this unfortunate{58} plant, and to give the finish to the ill-fame it had acquired, it was placed amongst funereal and ill-omened foods. Thus Marcus Crassus, waging war against the Parthians, was convinced that his army would be defeated, because his corn was exhausted, and his men were obliged to have recourse to lentils.[VIII_42]

How was it possible to resist such attacks! The humble plant gave way in spite of the few flattering words of the poetic Virgil,[VIII_43] and the assurance of Pliny that this food produced two uncommon virtues—mildness and moderation.[VIII_44]

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IX.

KITCHEN GARDEN.

The art of gardening, which may be called the luxury of agriculture,[IX_1] was known at the most remote periods.[IX_2] In the same inclosure was to be found the kitchen garden, orchard, and flower garden,[IX_3] at a short distance from the habitation of the rich.[IX_4] Royal hands did not disdain to embellish those spots which afforded a pleasing retreat, solitude, and repose.

Thus Attalus resigned the cares of his crown to cultivate his little garden, and sow in it the seeds of his favourite plant.[IX_5]

Babylon, the renowned city of antiquity, was celebrated amongst other wonders for her gardens suspended in the air; they were partly in existence sixteen centuries after their erection, and astonished Alexander the Great[IX_6] by the sublime grandeur of their prodigious boldness and the rare beauty of their workmanship.

Homer has left us the description of Alcinous’s garden,[IX_7] from which can be traced the birth of the art of gardening; its luxury consisted in the order and symmetry of its form, in the richness of its soil, the fertility of the trees, and in the two fountains which ornamented it. It was not so with the Romans. Those conquerors of the world displayed every where pomp and ostentation: Lucullus, Crassus, Pompey, and Cæsar, filled their gardens with the riches of Asia and the spoils of the universe.[IX_8]

The serious horticulturist, who wanted a garden for enjoyment, and not for show, carefully laboured, to see it bring forth fine fruits and excellent vegetables.[IX_9] Water was properly distributed for irrigation by means of aqueducts[IX_10] of tiles, wood, or lead pipes,[IX_11] and everywhere the{60} plants received the necessary moisture; and clever experienced gardeners were constantly occupied in improvements suggested by an attentive and skilful master.[IX_12]

The kitchen garden of the ancients contained mostly the vegetables, herbs, and roots, of which we still make use; but they also cultivated certain other kinds, which modern cookery has either put aside or rarely employs. We shall describe all those which appear most worthy of notice.

CABBAGE.

This plant has experienced the fate of a host of human things that have not been able to bear the weight of a too brilliant reputation. Time has done justice to the extraordinary qualities attributed to it, and the cabbage now remains, what it ought always to have been, an estimable vegetable and nothing more.

The Egyptians adored it, and raised altars to it. They afterwards made of this strange god the first dish of their repasts, and were imitated in this particular by the Greeks and Romans, who ascribed to it the happy quality of preserving from drunkenness.[IX_13] It was more particularly the red cabbage that obtained these honours and prerogatives. From Italy the victorious legions introduced it among the Gauls, as well as the green cabbage; the white species appears to belong originally to southern countries.

Hippocrates had a peculiar affection for this vegetable. Should one of his patients be seized with a violent cholic, he at once prescribed a dish of boiled cabbage with salt.[IX_14] Erasistratus looked upon it as a sovereign remedy against paralysis. Pythagoras, and several other learned philosophers, composed books in which they celebrated the marvellous virtues of the cabbage.[IX_15]

A writer, not less serious than those we have just quoted, the wise Cato, affirms that this plant infallibly cures all diseases; and pretends to have used this panacea to preserve his family from the plague, which, otherwise, would not have failed to reach them. It is to the use the Romans made of it, he adds, that they were able during six hundred{61} years to do without the assistance of physicians, whom they had expelled from their territories.[IX_16] This bold assertion deserved a little retaliation on the part of the faculty; so they deposed the cabbage from the rank occupied by it in medicine, and banished it to the kitchen.

The Athenian ladies formerly partook of the general enthusiasm in favour of this wholesome vegetable, which was always served to them when a new-born infant required their maternal love and care.[IX_17]

The ancients were acquainted with three principal kinds of cabbage: the silken-leaved, the curled, and the hard, round, white cabbage.[IX_18]

Apicius does not busy himself with any one of these varieties in particular in the various preparations he points out, and which we submit to the appreciation of connoisseurs:

1st. Take only the most delicate and tender part of the cabbage, which boil, and then pour off the water; season it with cummin seed,[IX_19] salt, old wine, oil, pepper, alisander, mint, rue, coriander seed, gravy, and oil.

2nd. Prepare the cabbage in the manner just mentioned, and make a seasoning of coriander seed, onion, cummin seed, pepper, a small quantity of oil, and wine made of sun raisins.[IX_20]

3rd. When you have boiled the cabbages in water, put them into a saucepan and stew them with gravy, oil, wine, cummin seed, pepper, leeks, and green coriander.[IX_21]

4th. Add to the preceding ingredients flour of almonds, and raisins dried in the sun.[IX_22]

5th. Prepare them again in the above manner, and cook them with green olives.[IX_23]

Who will question the service rendered to the culinary art by resuscitating these antique dishes, in which the cabbage admits of such a variety of combinations, and which we owe to the learning and experience of a man of taste? Whatever may be the opinion of our modern Trimalcions, we must not forget that this vegetable, prepared according to the recipe of Apicius, was the delight of the gourmets of Rome more than eighteen centuries ago.

The Romans brought the red cabbage into Gaul, and the green cabbage also. White cabbages came from the north, and the art of making them headed was unknown in the time of Charlemagne.[IX_24]

“In some countries cauliflowers are dried, and the white headed cabbages are preserved. The first, stripped of their leaves, are cut in slices,{62} and boiled two minutes in water slightly salted. They are shortly after withdrawn, and put to drain on hurdles, which are afterwards exposed to the sun during two or three days. At the expiration of that time the cauliflowers are placed in an oven half-warm, and are kept there till the stalks are dry; they are then wrapped in paper to preserve them from damp. To keep the headed cabbages, divide them in six or eight pieces, according to size, throw them for an instant in boiling water, then withdraw and plunge them in vinegar, which from time to time must be changed, especially at the beginning, taking care to add always a little salt.”—Dutour.

BEET.

Columella pretends that this plant owes its name (beta) to its resemblance to the letter B.[IX_25] We shall leave to the professional etymologist the trouble of examining whether Columella made a mistake or not.

The Greeks had two distinct sorts of beet—the black and the pale; they preferred the latter,[IX_26] especially when it came from Ascrea in Bœotia.[IX_27] They called this species Sicilian beet; and the physician Diphilus—who joined to his knowledge of botany that sort of gastrophagic intuition, that culinary mens divinior, whose inspiration never leads astray—placed it far above the cabbage, notwithstanding the estimable qualities of this latter vegetable.[IX_28] He recommended it to be eaten boiled, with mustard, and considers this food as a very excellent vermifuge.[IX_29]

The beet has not found favour with Martial, who, always caustic and severe, calls it an insipid dish.[IX_30] This injurious, and perhaps unjust, epithet would doubtless have exercised a fatal influence upon the destiny of this most inoffensive of vegetables, if an opponent of greater weight had not entered the lists against the atrabilarious poet.

We read in Apicius: “Boil, over a slow fire, some very tender white beet; add leeks, which have been taken from their native soil some days previous; when all this is cooked put it into a saucepan with pepper, gravy, and raisin wine; take care that the ebullition be regular, and serve.[IX_31]

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“Or, if you prefer: tie in bundles the beet you have carefully chosen, wash it, throw in some nitre, and boil it with water; then put it into a saucepan with sun-raisin wine, pepper, cummin, and a little oil; at the moment of ebullition add a mixture of gravy and coarsely chopped walnuts; cover the saucepan for an instant, uncover, and serve.”[IX_32]

The skilful artist is pleased for the third time to mention this culinary herb; and this is the new preparation which he gives:—

“When you have boiled beet in water until it is tender, add a pulp of leeks, some coriander, and cummin seed, carefully combined with flour and sun-made wine; place these different ingredients in a saucepan, and add gravy, oil, and vinegar.”[IX_33]

By tasting one of these dishes you will be convinced that Martial did not understand them; or, perhaps, he composed his epigram after dinner.

One species of beet is well known in its two principal varieties, under the name of beet-root and white-beet. The southern parts of Europe appear to be the native countries of the beet. It serves as food for both man and cattle. Sugar is extracted from the root, and potash from the stalks and leaves.

Beet-root is preserved, after stripping it completely of its leaves, and the earth which remains on them, in greenhouses, in dry cellars, and even in trenches covered with earth, in layers, lengthwise, with sand. They are thus preserved until the following May.

“Beet-root is eaten cooked in ashes or in water, and seasoned in various ways; they are excellent in salad, either by themselves, or mixed with endives or dandelion, &c.”—Bosc.

SPINACH.

It does not appear that spinach was known to the Greeks and Romans. Some authors think that it might be the chrysolacanon of the Greeks,[IX_34] but it is probable that this was no other than the orach;[IX_35] Beckmann[IX_36] thinks, with several botanists, that this plant came from Spain; and, indeed, it has been often called the Spanish vegetable.[IX_37]

We only speak of this plant by way of memento, and regret that our{64} first masters in cookery have not been able to transmit to us the results of their studies and experience in the preparation of spinach, whose precocity must always render it valuable to amateurs of vegetable food.

MALLOWS.

The ancients ate mallows, and recognised in them soothing and softening qualities.[IX_38] Diphilus of Siphne says that their juice lubricates the windpipe, nourishes, and is easily digested.[IX_39] Horace praises this aliment;[IX_40] and Martial, for once just, recommends its use.[IX_41]

It is true that a passage of Cicero would seem to indicate we know not what deception, which appeared all at once when eating or after partaking of mallows;[IX_42] but the Roman orator, perhaps, knew little of the properties of the plant, which were only described much later by Pliny the naturalist. The curious may consult on this subject the twenty-first chapter of the twentieth book of his great work.

At all events mallows were in high renown; they occupied one of the first ranks among pickles, those famous acetaria which had so powerful an effect in quickening the appetites of the Greeks, and preparing their stomachs for great gastronomic struggles.[IX_43] They were served as a salad. The large-leaved mallow was mixed with œnogarum, pepper, gravy, and sun-made wine.[IX_44]

The small-leaved mallows were also prepared with œnogarum and gravy; but instead of pepper and wine, oil and vinegar were added.[IX_45]

ASPARAGUS.

“Quiconque ne voit guère n’a guère à dire aussi.”[IX_46] But travellers, those daring pioneers of science, have sometimes, in their travels, the strange good fortune to behold wonders invisible to other eyes. Thus some skilful explorators of Africa saw, about the middle of the second century of the Christian era, in Getulia, asparagus of excellent quality{65} and of very beautiful growth, being no less than twelve feet high! It is needless to add that the Libyan vendors rarely sold them in bundles. But these veridical travellers, on quitting the plain to ascend the mountains, found something still more wonderful; the land there seemed to suit these plants still better, for they acquired the height of twenty cubits.[IX_47] After this, what shall we say of our European asparagus, so shrivelled and diminutive in comparison with that of Getulia?

The Greeks, not having any better, contented themselves with the ordinary sort, such as we have at the present day. They considered it very useful in the treatment of internal diseases.[IX_48] Diphilus, who was very fond of it, regrets that this vegetable should be so hurtful to the sight:[IX_49] is it because we eat asparagus that spectacles have become necessary at nearly all periods of life?

The Romans cultivated this plant with extreme care,[IX_50] and obtained the most extraordinary results. At Ravenna, they raised asparagus each stem of which weighed three pounds.[IX_51]

Then, as in our days, they were allowed but a short time to boil; hence the favourite expression of Augustus, who, to intimate his wish that any affair might be concluded without delay, was accustomed to say: “Let that be done quicker than you would cook asparagus.”[IX_52]

The cooks of Rome had a method which appears to have been subsequently too much neglected; they chose the finest heads of asparagus, and dried them. When wanted for the table, they put them into hot water, and then boiled them a few minutes.[IX_53] Thanks to this simple process the plant swelled considerably, and passed as being very tender and fine flavoured.

The Apicii, Luculli, and other connoisseurs of renown, had this vegetable brought from the environs of Nesis, a city of Campania.[IX_54]

It is asserted that Asia is its native soil, and that it was originally brought to us from that part of the world. Nevertheless, wild asparagus grows naturally in certain sandy soils, as, for instance, in the islands of the Rhône and the Loire.[IX_55]

“When it is found impossible to eat all the asparagus you have cut, and which has arrived at a convenient maturity, place them by the thick ends in a vessel containing about two inches of water; or else, bury them half-way up in fresh sand. By means of these precautions asparagus may be preserved several days.”—Parmentier.{66}

GOURD.

This vegetable, which the wise gourmet is too discreet to despise, and to which the whimsical fancy of Roman gardeners gave the most grotesque forms,[IX_56] appears to be the very image of those soft and easy dispositions who yield to and obey every one, and whose unintelligent mildness is only repaid with sarcasm or disdain. Observe this creeping vegetable, left free to grow to its full size, which would sometimes attain the length of nine feet,[IX_57] and which the will of man was able to reduce to the slender and tortuous shape of a hideous dragon.[IX_58] When hardly ripe, it was cut and served on the tables of the most dainty, where it was eaten with vinegar and mustard, or seasoned with fine herbs:[IX_59] and whilst the ungrateful guests savoured the stomachic and nourishing flesh of the gourd,[IX_60] they did not cease to amuse themselves at the expense of its round and almost empty body[IX_61]—the proverbial image of a head not over well-provided with brains.[IX_62]

To the present day even, more than one popular joke continues to pursue this plant, although its culinary qualities are appreciated as formerly.

We are indebted to India for the seed of the gourd,[IX_63] which the Greeks designated, according to the species, by the names of Indian and common gourd. The latter kind was either boiled or roasted; the former was generally boiled in water.[IX_64] Antioch furnished the finest specimens to the markets of Athens.[IX_65]

The ancients were acquainted with the manner of preserving this vegetable in such a state of freshness as to enable them to eat it with pleasure in the month of January:[IX_66] the method is as follows,—the gourds were cut in pieces of a moderate size; these pieces, strung like beads, where first dried in the open air, and then smoked; when winter arrived, each piece was well washed before putting it into the stewpan, with the various culinary herbs which the season produced; to this was added endive, curled cabbage, and dried mushrooms.[IX_67] The rest of the operation is easily understood. The Romans prepared this vegetable in different ways: a few of the principal ones will suffice.

{67}1st. Boil the gourd in water, squeeze it out carefully, place it in a saucepan, and mix some pepper, a little cummin seed, rue, gravy, vinegar, and a small quantity of wine, reduced to one-half by boiling. Let the whole stew, and then sprinkle it lightly with pepper, and serve.[IX_68]

2nd. Boil and carefully squeeze them to extract the water, then put the gourds into a saucepan with vinegar and gravy; when it begins to simmer, thicken with fine flour, sprinkle lightly with pepper, and serve.[IX_69]

3rd. Throw some salt on the gourd after it has been boiled, and the water pressed out of it; put it into a saucepan, with a mixture of pepper, cummin seed, coriander, green mint, and the root of benzoin; add some vinegar; then chop some dates and almonds; a little later, more vinegar, honey, gravy, sun-made wine, and oil; sprinkle lightly with pepper, and serve.[IX_70]

4th. Put into a stewpan a fowl, with a gourd; add some apricots, truffles, pepper, cummin, sylphium, mint, parsley, coriander, pennyroyal, and calamint; moisten with wine, gravy, oil, vinegar, and honey.[IX_71]

These four recipes are sufficient to prove that this vegetable stood very high in the estimation of the Romans.

TURNIPS.

The epicureans of Athens preferred turnips brought from Thebes;[IX_72] Roman gastronomists placed those of Amitermes in the first rank, and those of Nursia in the second. The kitchen-gardeners of Rome furnished them with a third variety, to which they had recourse when they could not procure any other.[IX_73] They were eaten boiled, thus:—after the water had been extracted from them, they were seasoned with cummin, rue, and benzoin, pounded in a mortar, adding to it afterwards honey, vinegar, gravy, boiled grapes, and a little oil. The whole was left to simmer, and then served.[IX_74]

{68}

CARROTS.

The Greeks and Romans planted or sowed them in the beginning of the spring, or autumn.[IX_75] They distinguished two kinds, the wild and the cultivated.[IX_76]

This much esteemed root received the honour of being prepared in many ways. Sometimes it was eaten as a salad, with salt, oil, and vinegar.[IX_77]

It was also stewed, and mixed afterwards with œnogarum.[IX_78] Again, they boiled it in a stewpan, over a slow fire, with some cummin and a little oil, and just before serving it was sprinkled with ground cummin seeds.[IX_79]

BLIT

(A SORT OF BEET).

Blit is one of the family of atriplices, which grows in Europe, and in the temperate regions of Asia; it owes its ancient reputation entirely to the insipidity of its flavour, from which it derives its Greek name, synonymous with stupidity and insignificance.[IX_80] Blit was eaten boiled, when nothing better was to be had. In fact, it was a last resource—and nothing more.

PURSLAINE.

This vegetable, the aspect of which would lead us to suppose it possessed savoury qualities (though experience proves the contrary), was formerly mixed in different salads, and still enjoys some esteem when associated with a leg of mutton.[IX_81]

In default of esculent qualities (which it certainly does not possess),{69} the ancients recognised in purslaine many admirable virtues,[IX_82] which are not acknowledged in the present day. The internal use of this plant, also its external application, cured the bite of serpents, wounds inflicted by poisoned arrows, and infallibly neutralized the effects of poisonous drinks.[IX_83] But, alas! purslaine is not now what it was formerly; for it is hardly permitted to appear by the side of one of our fresh white lettuces.

SORREL.

Sorrel is a polygenous plant, and grows throughout Europe amidst the grass fields. The Romans cultivated it in order to give it more vigour,[IX_84] and ate it sometimes stewed with mustard, and seasoned with a little oil and vinegar.[IX_85]

BROCOLI.

Drusus, son of Tiberius, was so passionately fond of the brocoli, which Apicius induced him to eat, that he was more than once severely reprimanded by his father on the subject.[IX_86] It is true that the celebrated Roman epicurean displayed so much art, and gave such delicious flavour to it, that this dish alone would have been enough to establish his reputation. In fact, brocoli has always been appreciated by connoisseurs; and Glaucias, who passed his life in meditating seriously on the perfectibility of culinary ingredients, said: “That nothing could be better than this vegetable, boiled and suitably seasoned.”[IX_87]

This was the method of preparing it at Rome: they used only the most tender and delicate parts of the brocoli, which were boiled with that extreme care the artist always devotes to this first operation; and, afterwards, when the water had been well drained off, they added some cummin seed, pepper, chopped onions, and coriander seed—all braised together, not forgetting, before serving up, to add a little oil and sun-made wine.[IX_88]

{70}

ARTICHOKE.

A young and unfortunate beauty had the ill-luck to displease a vindictive and irascible god, who instantly metamorphosed her into an artichoke.[IX_89] This poor girl’s name was Cinara. Although she had become a bitter plant she preserved this sweet name, which the moderns have strangely modified. Our readers, who eat artichokes with so much indifference, will, perhaps, sometimes lament this poor victim of a blind resentment.

This plant was well known to the ancients; the hilly regions of Greece, Asia, and Egypt were covered with it;[IX_90] but the inhabitants made no use of it as an aliment, and it remained uncultivated.[IX_91]

It would be rather difficult to trace the precise period when it was first introduced into Italy. All we know is, that it grew there more than half a century before the Christian era, in the time of Dioscorides, who mentioned it.[IX_92] It appears, nevertheless, that hardly any one troubled himself about artichokes, or their esculent qualities, up to that time; but the wealthy, about a century after, began to appreciate them, and Pliny, in one of his jesting whims, reproaches the rich with having deprived the lower classes and asses of a food which nature seemed to have destined for them.[IX_93]

This vegetable was then very dear,[IX_94] for it did not succeed, and was subsequently given up. It was so far forgotten that in the year 1473 it appeared as a novelty at Venice;[IX_95] and towards the year 1465 it was brought from Naples to Florence, whence it passed into France in the sixteenth century.[IX_96]

Galen[IX_97] looked upon the artichoke as a bad food.[IX_98] Columella sung its praise in his verses; he recommended it to the disciples of Bacchus, and forbid the use of it to those who were anxious to preserve a sweet and pure voice.[IX_99]

This plant, whatever may be in other respects its estimable qualities, does not please every one equally well; its bitterness and unpleasant odour keep it at a distance from numerous palates—perhaps because too many allow themselves to be prejudiced by deceitful appearances. Here are two very ingenious methods by means of which a trial might{71} be made to overcome, or lessen, the defects it undoubtedly has, and which we can but deplore:—

Artichokes will become mild by taking care to steep the seed in a mixture of honey and milk.[IX_100] They will then exhale the most agreeable perfume, particularly when this seed has passed three days in the juice of bay leaves, lilies, or roses.[IX_101]

Having quoted the authority, we give the recipe for what it is worth.

Until the result of this experiment is known, artichokes may be eaten raw, with a seasoning of hard eggs chopped in very small pieces, garum, and oil.[IX_102]

If you prefer a sharper sauce, mix well some green mint with rue, Greek fennel,[IX_103] and coriander; add, afterwards, some pepper, alisander, honey, garum, and oil.[IX_104] They are also eaten boiled, with cummin, pepper, gravy, and oil.[IX_105]

“It is well known under what form artichokes, either raw or cooked, appear on our tables. The best way to preserve them is to half cook them, separate the leaves from the fur, and preserve the fleshy part, called the bottom, and throw them, still warm, in cold water, to make them firm. That operation is called blanchir. They are laid afterwards on hurdles, and put four different times in the oven, as soon as the bread is taken out. They become then very thin, hard, and transparent, like horn, and return to their original form in hot water. They must be kept free from damp.”—Parmentier.

POMPION.

Like the gourd, the good and creeping pompion has served more than once as a term of comparison, and that in a style most humiliating. Should any one happen to be thick-headed, or not very intelligent,[IX_106] he was immediately compared to a pompion (popularly, pumpkin—whence bumpkin). The insult went still further: it was said of a pusillanimous man, “That he had a pompion where his heart ought to have been.”[IX_107]

The obesity of this vegetable, and its inelegant shape, have doubtless given rise to these injurious remarks.

It was, however, acknowledged that it possessed many estimable{72} qualities, which ought to have compensated for its outward defects. It was thought to be very refreshing, and was employed with success in the treatment of diseases of the eyes.[IX_108]

We might undertake (if permitted) a long dissertation, in order to prove that the Hebrews, weary of being in the Desert, murmured because they were deprived of the pompion of Egypt,[IX_109] and not the melon, as translators have rendered it; but we should be accused of egregious presumption; the learned would frown, critics would not spare us, and our pompions would, nevertheless, pass as melons.

This plant occupies a prominent place in the precious catalogue of Roman dainties which we offer for the meditation of judges. Here are some of the ancient modes of preparing this vegetable:

1st. Boil some pompions, put them in a stewpan with cummin and a little oil; place them for a short time over a slow fire, and serve.[IX_110]

2nd. When you have well boiled, reduce them to a pulp, then put them on a dish with pepper, alisander, cummin, wild marjoram, onion, wine, garum, and oil; thicken with flour, and serve.[IX_111]

3rd. When the pompion has boiled in water, it is then seasoned with wild fennel, sylphium,[IX_112] dried mint, vinegar, and garum.[IX_113]

CUCUMBER.

When the Israelites were in the Desert they regretted much the cucumbers of Egypt, which were sold to them at a very trifling price when under the yoke of Pharaoh.[IX_114] We may thence infer that this vegetable was very plentiful, and chiefly in great demand by the lower order of people; for as the Jews were in a state of servitude, they were necessarily assimilated with the most abject of the Egyptians.

We see that this cucurbitacea has been long known, and that, after the lapse of many centuries, it is held in the same degree of estimation it enjoyed among the Eastern nations.

The Greeks thought much of the cucumber, particularly of that kind which came from the environs of Antioch.[IX_115] They attributed to this plant marvellous properties, which modern scepticism has completely{73} thrown aside. We think it good in salad, with vinegar, oil, pepper, and salt, and that is all.

It is, we imagine, the only good quality our farmers ascribe to it at the present day. Formerly, in Greece, the same class of persons, being clearer-sighted, or more credulous, were convinced that this vegetable protected all kinds of seeds against the voracity of insects. To obtain this result it was only necessary to steep the seed in the juice obtained from the root of the cucumber, before it was sown.[IX_116]

We freely offer this preservative to those who may wish to give it a trial, and sincerely hope they may profit by this revival of the Greek process.

The Romans conceived that this cold and somewhat insipid vegetable (we beg pardon of its admirers) required a seasoning to heighten its flavour. No sooner had they transplanted it from Asia into Rome,[IX_117] than they busied themselves in rendering it worthy of their tables by various preparations, which may, perhaps, interest the curious.

1st. Scrape the cucumbers, and eat them with œnogarum.[IX_118][W]

Or, prepare the condiment with thyme, wild mint, pepper, and alisander; to which add, as before, garum, oil, and honey.[IX_120]

2nd. Scrape the cucumbers, and boil them with parsley, seed, gravy, and oil; thicken, and sprinkle pepper over the dish before serving.[IX_121]

3rd. Again, they may be seasoned with pepper, pennyroyal, honey, or sun-made wine, gravy, vinegar, and a little sylphium.[IX_122]

4th. You will obtain a most delicate dish by boiling the cucumbers with brains, already cooked; adding afterwards some cummin, and a little honey.[IX_123]

The cucumber, although but little nutritious, does not agree with cold stomachs. In the north an astonishing quantity are consumed. The Poles ate them at every repast with boiled meat.

“Cucumbers are preserved in a very simple manner. The essential point is to obtain good wine-vinegar. After having well washed and wiped them, put them into either white or red vinegar (the colour is better preserved by using the white); add salt; cover simply the vessel containing them with a board. The vinegar must always be an inch higher than the cucumbers, and must be entirely renewed at the end of a month.”—Parmentier.{74}

LETTUCE.

From time immemorial the lettuce has occupied a most distinguished place in the kitchen garden. The Hebrews ate it, without preparation, with the Paschal lamb.[IX_124] The opulent Greeks were very fond of the lettuces of Smyrna,[IX_125] which appeared on their tables at the end of a repast;[IX_126] the Romans, who at first imitated them, decided, under Domitian, that this favourite dish should be served in the first course with eggs,[IX_127] purposely to excite their indomitable appetites, which three courses (and such courses, ye gods! when compared with ours of the present day) would hardly satisfy.

The bitter lettuce was sufficient for the frugal Hebrews,[IX_128] but the delicate epicureans of Athens and Rome were much more particular; they valued them only when a mild and sweet savour invited the most rebellious palate, and awakened the slumbering desires of a fatigued stomach. And what care, what attention, did they not bestow on the growth and maturity of this cherished plant!

Aristoxenus, a philosopher by profession, an epicurean by taste, had in his garden a species of lettuce which was the envy of his surrounding neighbours. The worthy man, rendered happy by their jealous admiration, went every evening, without fail, to contemplate the small square of ground which contained his treasure, and sprinkled it carefully with water, doubtless from a limpid stream. Tush! Water, to moisten the lettuces of Aristoxenus! No: the philosopher kept in reserve a sweet and excellent wine to quench the thirst of his plants, and to communicate to them that delicate perfume and exquisite taste, the mysterious cause of which baffled the neighbouring gastronomists.

The day after, the arch old man would say, with a roguish smile, that he was going to gather some relishing green cakes, which the earth prepared expressly for him,[IX_129] and the simple countrymen were wonder-struck without understanding the cause.

The lettuce—favourite plant of the beautiful Adonis[IX_130]—possesses a narcotic virtue, of which ancient physicians have taken notice. Galen mentions that, in his old age, he had not found a better remedy against the wakefulness he was troubled with.[IX_131] The biographer of{75} Augustus informs us that this Emperor, being attacked with hypochondria, recovered only by the use of lettuces, recommended by Musa, his first physician;[IX_132] nothing, therefore, is wanting in praise of this useful plant—literally nothing, since the king of cooks, Cœlius Apicius, judged it worthy of an honourable place in the immortal book he has bequeathed to the amateurs of the Archeologico-culinary science of all ages and all countries.

“Take,” says he, “the leaves of lettuces, let them be boiled with onions, in water wherein you have put some nitre; take them out, squeeze out the water, and cut them in small pieces; mix well some pepper, alisander,[IX_133] parsley seed, dried mint, and onions; put this mixture to the lettuce, and add to the whole some gravy, oil, and wine.”[IX_134]

Lettuces may also be eaten with a dressing of gravy and pickles.[IX_135]

Our ancestors served salads with roasted meat, roasted poultry, &c. They had a great many which are now no longer in vogue. They ate leeks, cooked in the wood-ashes, and seasoned with salt and honey; borage, mint, and parsley, with salt and oil; lettuce, fennel, mint, chervil, parsley, and elder-flowers mixed together. They also classed among their salads an agglomeration of feet, heads, cocks’ combs, and fowls’ livers, cooked, and seasoned with parsley, mint, vinegar, pepper, and cinnamon. Nettles, and the twigs of rosemary, formed delicious salads for our forefathers; and to these they sometimes added pickled gherkins.[IX_136]

ENDIVE.

Pliny assures us that the juice of this plant, mixed with vinegar and oil of roses, is an excellent remedy for the head-ache;[IX_137] we leave to the proper judges a pharmaceutical mixture which does not belong to our province, and which we only quote en passant.

Virgil thought endive bitter,[IX_138] but he did not speak ill of it. Columella recommended this salad to fastidious and satiated palates;[IX_139] this is praising it. The Egyptians appreciated its merits,[IX_140] which the Greeks had too much sense and good taste to disdain; and the Romans ate it prepared in the following manner:—{76}

Choose some fine endive; wash it well; drain off all the water; add a little gravy and oil; then chop some onions very small; strew them over the endive, and add honey and vinegar.[IX_141]

It is understood that the sweet savour of the honey corrects the bitterness of the plant; but a judicious attention must preside over the quantity of that substance, for too much or too little might easily spoil this salad of Apicius.

ONIONS.

Whoever wishes to preserve his health must eat every morning, before breakfast, young onions, with honey.[IX_142] Such a treat is assuredly not very tempting: besides, this rather strong vegetable leaves after it a most unpleasant perfume, which long reminds us of its presence; wherefore this recipe has not met with favour, and, indeed, it is much to be doubted whether it will ever become fashionable.

Alexander the Great found the onion in Egypt, where the Hebrews had learned to like it.[IX_143] He brought it into Greece, where it was given as food to the troops, whose martial ardour[IX_144] it was thought to excite.

Pliny assures us that Gaul produced a small kind, which the Romans called Gallic onions, and which they thought more delicate than those of Italy.[IX_145] At any rate, it was a dish given up to plebeians and the poor. Horace opposed to it fish—the luxurious nourishment of rich and dainty Romans.[IX_146] In spite of this reprobation on the part of the elegant poet, Apicius does not fear to introduce the plant in his Olus Molle, a kind of Julienne, not devoid of merit.

Take onions, rather dry, and mix pepper, alisander, and winter-savory, to season a variety of vegetables previously boiled in water and nitre, the which, when very fine, thicken with cullis, oil, and wine.[IX_147]

{77}

LEEKS.

This vegetable—a powerful divinity, dreaded among the Egyptians,[IX_148] and a food bewailed by the Israelites in their journey through the Desert[IX_149]—cured the Greeks of numerous diseases, which in our days it is to be feared would resist its medicinal properties.[IX_150] Everything changes in this sublunary world, and the leek no doubt follows the common law.

The authors of a compilation rather indigestible at times, but often very curious, assert that this vegetable attains an extraordinary size, by putting as many of the seeds as one can take up with three fingers into a piece of linen, which is then to be tied-up, covered with manure, and watered with care. All these seeds—so they say—will at last form themselves into one single seed, which will produce a monstrous leek.[IX_151]

This process, which is revealed to us by the geoponics, would have had an enthusiastic reception from those fervent pagans who vied in zeal with each other, to see who could offer Latona, on the day of the Theoxenias, the most magnificent leek.[IX_152]

The mother of Apollo received this plant with pleasure, although presented to her quite raw; but she would probably have preferred it dressed in the following manner:—

Take leeks, the mildest it is possible to procure; boil them in water and oil, with a handful of salt, and put them into a dish, with gravy, oil, and wine.[IX_153]

Or, cover the leeks with young cabbage leaves; cook them under the hot embers, and season afterwards as above.[IX_154]

MELON.

This cucurbitacea, the most delicate vegetable belonging to this numerous family, has always been the delight of the inhabitants of the{78} East and of Europe. It came originally from the most temperate regions of Asia; the chivalric Baber made it known to his Hindoo subjects;[IX_155] and the Romans introduced it into the west, at the time of their first expedition against the Persians. Melons had a prodigious success at Rome, and soon became a necessity with which the wealthy could not dispense. The Emperor Tiberius, that cruel and covetous prince,[IX_156] liked them so much that they were served to him every day throughout the year.

The Greeks, whose ingenious and lively imagination mingled with everything the sweet perfume of flowers, contrived to place the seeds of melons in vessels full of rose leaves, with which they were afterwards sown. They maintained that, when at maturity, this cool and refreshing vegetable was impregnated with sweet emanations, and that its flavour called to mind its sweet and delicious abode with the queen of flowers.[IX_157]

Sometimes also they macerated the seeds in milk and honey. Not only melons, but all the cucurbitaceæ were treated in this manner, when it was wished to communicate to them a milder flavour.[IX_158]

In pointing out these processes in use among the ancient horticulturists, we do not at all pledge ourselves for their efficacy. However, it must be acknowledged that they exhibit a singularly praiseworthy emulation, which has perhaps prepared the way for the wonders with which our modern gardeners have made us familiar.

Independently of its exquisite flavour, the melon passed, among the Greeks and Romans, as being very beneficial to the stomach and head.[IX_159] It is possible that they may have gone a little too far; but then man is so ready to give imaginary qualities to what he loves, that we cannot wonder at their praises of this delicious plant, which we generally eat in the most simple manner, without any other seasoning than a little sugar, sometimes with salt and pepper. Not so with the Romans; their practised palates required a more exquisite combination; they, therefore, added to it a sharp savoury sauce—a compound of pepper, pennyroyal, honey, or sun-made wine, garum, vinegar, and sylphium.[IX_160]

Melons were not known in central or northern Europe until the reign of Charles VIII., King of France, who brought them from Italy.[IX_161]

{79}

RADISH.

Amongst other singularities which abound in the Talmud, the curious can but have remarked the following:

Judea formerly produced kitchen garden plants so large, that a fox bethought himself to hollow a radish, and make it his residence. After he had removed, this new kind of lair was discovered; it was put into a scale, and found to weigh nearly one hundred pounds.[IX_162]

It is a pity that no one preserved the seed of so remarkable a vegetable, which no doubt was only to be found in Judea.

The Greeks had very fine radishes, but they were not of such a surprising size. They procured them from the territory of Mantinea.[IX_163] Mount Algidea also furnished the Romans with an excellent kind,[IX_164] but which they esteemed less highly than those of Nursia,[IX_165] in the country of the Sabines. These latter cost about threepence a pound in the time of Pliny; they were sold for double that sum when the crop was not abundant.[IX_166]

Writers of antiquity notice three distinct kinds of radishes: the large, short, and thick; the round; and the wild.[IX_167] They fancied that, at the end of three years, the seed of this plant produced very good cabbages,[IX_168] which must have been rather vexatious, at times, to honest gardeners who might have preferred radishes.

In times of popular tumult this root was often transformed into an ignominious projectile, with which the mob pursued persons whose political opinions rendered them obnoxious to the majority, as we might say in the present day.[IX_169] As soon as calm was re-established, the insulting vegetable was placed in the pot to boil, and afterwards eaten with oil and a little vinegar.[IX_170]

The Romans preserved radishes very well, by covering them with a paste composed of honey, vinegar, and salt.[IX_171]

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HORSE-RADISH.

“By Apollo!” cried, mournfully, a philanthropic and gastronomic Greek, “one must be completely mad to buy horse-radish, when fish can be found in the market.”[IX_172] So thought the philosopher Amphis. And at Rome, as in Greece, this reviled and despised root hardly found a place on the table of the poor, when anything else could be had.

There were several serious causes for this fatal proscription: this plant was found to be bitter, stringy, and of difficult digestion;[IX_173] it was looked upon as a very common food;[IX_174] the lowest class alone dared to feed upon it; the opulent were therefore compelled to exclude it from the number of their dishes. And again, certain strange customs, authorised by the Roman law, contributed greatly to make the horse-radish an object of horror and detestation; so true it is, that the manner in which objects are associated with our ideas determines almost invariably our love or hatred for them.

Nevertheless, all the species of this vegetable (and there were five in number, distinctly mentioned by Theophrastus[IX_175]) ought not to have been condemned so severely. The Corinthian, the Leiothasian, the Cleonian, the Amorean, and the Bœotian, were so many distinct and separate species, each of which possessed its own peculiar property and quality.[IX_176] The last-named, with its large and silky leaves, was tender, and had a sweet, agreeable taste.[IX_177] The others, not so good, perhaps, were wholesome and nourishing, and their natural bitterness never failed to disappear, when the seeds were allowed to soak for some time in sweet or raisin wine before they were sown.[IX_178]

Shall we now mention the properties the horse-radish possessed, and which ought to have been sufficient to establish its reputation, if prejudice were not both deaf and blind?

Take, fasting, some pieces of this beneficent and despised root, and the most inveterate poisons will be changed for you into inoffensive drinks.[IX_179]

Would you have the power to handle and play with those dangerous reptiles whose active venom causes a speedy and sure death? Wash your hands in the juice of horse-radish.[IX_180]

{81}

Do you seek an efficacious remedy for the numerous evils which besiege us unceasingly? Take horse-radish,—nothing but horse-radish.[IX_181]

It is true that this incomparable root attacks the enamel of the teeth, and, indeed, soon spoils them;[IX_182] but why should we be so particular when so many marvellous properties are in question?

As to its culinary preparation, Apicius recommends us to serve it mixed with pepper and garum.[IX_183]

GARLIC.

Garlic was known in the most remote ages. It was a god in Egypt.[IX_184] The Greeks held it in horror. It was part of their military food—hence came the proverb, “Eat neither garlic nor beans;” that is to say, abstain from war and law.[IX_185] There was a belief that this plant excited the courage of warriors; therefore, it was given to cocks to incite them to fight. The Greek and Roman sailors made as great a use of it as the soldiers,[IX_186] and an ample provision was always made when they set out on any maritime expedition.[IX_187] It was a prevailing opinion that the effects of foul air were neutralized by garlic; and it was, no doubt, this idea which made reapers and peasants use it so lavishly.[IX_188]

However, the taste for this vegetable was not always confined to the people, in the southern countries of Europe; it gained, at times, the high regions of the court. It is reported that, in 1368, Alphonso, King of Castile, who had an extreme repugnance to garlic, instituted an order of knighthood; and one of the statutes was, that any knight who had eaten of this plant, could not appear before the sovereign for at least one month.[IX_189]

The priests of Cybele interdicted the entry of the temple of this goddess to persons who had made use of garlic. Stilphon, troubling himself very little about this interdiction, fell asleep on the steps of the altar. The mother of the gods appeared to him in his dream, and reproached him with the little respect his breath disclosed for her. “If you wish me to abstain from garlic,” replied Stilphon, “give me something else to eat.”[IX_190]

{82}

The ancients, great lovers of the marvellous, believed that this despised vegetable possessed a sovereign virtue against the greater number of diseases,[IX_191] and that it was easy to deprive it of its penetrating odour by sowing and gathering it when the moon was below the horizon.[IX_192]

The Greek and Roman cooks used it but very seldom, and it was only employed as a second or third-rate ingredient in some preparations of Apicius which we shall hereafter mention.

“Garlic is called the physic of the peasantry, especially in warm countries, where it is eaten before going to work, in order to guarantee them from the pernicious effects of foul air. It would be too long were we to relate all that has been written in favour of this vegetable; let it suffice to say that it is employed in numerous pharmaceutical preparations, and among others in vinegar, celebrated by the name of aromatic vinegar.”—Bosc.

ESCHALOTS.

Alexander the Great found the eschalot in Phœnicia, and introduced it into Greece. Its Latin name, Ascalonica, indicates the place of its origin, Ascalon, a city of Idumea.[IX_193] Its affinity with garlic set the ancients against its culinary qualities, and this useful plant, too much neglected, only obtained credit in modern times.

PARSLEY.

Hercules, the conqueror of the Nemæan lion, crowned himself with parsley; a rather modest adornment for so great a hero, when others, for exploits much less worthy, were decked with laurels. A similar crown became, subsequently, the prize of the Nemæan[IX_194] and Isthmian Games.[IX_195]

{83}

Anacreon, that amiable and frivolous poet, who consecrated all his moments to pleasure, celebrates parsley as the emblem of joy and festivity;[IX_196] and Horace, a philosophic sensualist of the same stamp, commanded his banquetting hall to be ornamented with roses and parsley.[IX_197]

Perhaps it was thought that the strong, penetrating odour of parsley possessed the property of exciting the brain to agreeable imaginations; if so, it explains the fact of its being worn by guests, placed round their heads.

Fable has made it the food of Juno’s coursers.[IX_198] In battle, the warriors of Homer fed their chargers with it;[IX_199] and Melancholy, taking it for the symbol of mourning, admitted it at the dismal repasts of obsequies.[IX_200]

Let us seek to discover in this plant qualities less poetic and less brilliant, but, assuredly, more real and positive. In the first place:—

Wash some parsley with the roots adhering; dry it well in the sun; boil it in water, and leave it awhile on one side; then put into a saucepan some garlic and leeks, which must boil together a long time, and very slowly, until reduced to two-thirds—that done, pound some pepper, mix it with gravy and a little honey, strain the water in which the parsley was boiled, and pour it over the parsley and the whole of the other ingredients. Put the stewpan once more on the fire, and serve.[IX_201]

The following recipe is much less complicated and more expeditious:—

Boil the parsley in water, with nitre; press out all the water; cut it very fine; then mix, with care, some pepper, alisander, marjoram and onions; add some wine, gravy, and oil; stew the whole, with the parsley, in an earthen pot or stewpan.[IX_202]

If the illustrious pupil of Chiron, the warlike Achilles, had known the culinary properties of parsley as well as he knew its medicinal virtues, he no doubt would have been less prodigal with it for his horses;[IX_203] and the conquerors of Troy would have comforted themselves, during the tediousness of a long siege, by cooking this aromatic plant, and enjoying a new dish.

Parsley, according to some writers, was of Egyptian origin; but it is not known who brought it into Sardinia, where it was found by the Carthaginians, who afterwards made it known to the inhabitants of Marseilles.{84}

CHERVIL.

This plant, which Columella has described,[IX_204] furnished a relishing dish, prepared with gravy, oil, and wine; or served with fried fish.[IX_205] At the present day it is highly commendable in salad.

WATER-CRESSES.

The water-cress, the sight alone of which made the learned Scaliger shudder with terror, is supposed to be a native of Crete. It was, doubtless, the cresses of Alen (Suabia), which are cultivated in our gardens, and not those commonly found in brooks and springs.

The Persians were in the habit of eating them with bread:[IX_206] they made, in this manner, so delicious a meal, that the splendour of a Syracusan table would not have tempted them.[IX_207] This is one of those examples of sobriety which may be admired, but are seldom followed.

Plutarch did not share the opinion of the Persians, but scornfully ranked cresses amongst the lowest aliments of the people.[IX_208] Nevertheless, the Romans, as well as the Greeks, granted to this cruciform plant a host of beneficent qualities, and among others, a singularly refreshing property. Refreshing! to say the truth, it refreshes much in the same way that mustard and pepper do.[IX_209] Boiled in goat’s milk, it cured thoracic affections;[IX_210] introduced into the ears, it relieved the toothache:[IX_211] and finally, persons who made it their habitual food found their wits sharpened and their intelligence more active and ingenious.[IX_212]

However, it does not appear that cresses ever enjoyed, in Rome or Athens, a culinary vogue equal to their officinal reputation; it was said that its acrid taste twisted the nose,[IX_213] and this coarse jest naturally did it harm to a certain degree with the rich and delicate. Be that as it may, those who dared, ate it dressed in the following manner:—{85}

With garum, or oil and vinegar;[IX_214] or with pepper, cummin-seed, and lentiscus (leaves of the mastic-tree).[IX_215]

The water-cress par excellence grows in springs, rivulets, and ditches, in Europe. Its piquant taste is rather agreeable; it is eaten as a salad or seasoning, with poultry and other roasted meat. This plant increases the appetite, fortifies the stomach, and possesses anti-scorbutic qualities.

A great consumption is made of it in certain countries. It is cultivated in running waters, either in gardens, or sown in the shade, where it is watered abundantly. The less it sees the sun, the softer it is.—Bosc.{86}

X.

PLANTS USED IN SEASONING.

We will point out, as briefly as possible, those plants mostly used in the kitchens of the ancients to heighten the flavour of their dishes, or to give them a particular taste, according as the dish or fancy might require it. In them especially lies the secret of those irritamenta gulæ, or excitements of the palate, which Apicius brought so much into fashion.

POPPY.

The seed of this plant was offered, fried, at the beginning of the second course, and eaten with honey.[X_1] Sometimes it was sprinkled on the crust of a kind of household bread, covered with white of eggs.[X_2] Some of it was also put into the panada, or pap, intended for children[X_3]—perhaps to make them sleep the sooner.

SESAME.

This seed was used in nearly the same manner as the poppy, and it occupied a distinguished rank among the numerous dainties served at dessert.[X_4] Certain round and light cakes were covered with this seed.[X_5] The Romans brought sesame from Egypt.[X_6]

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SOW-THISTLE.

This plant furnished a kind of milk, which was sometimes drunk: sometimes various kinds of meat were seasoned with it.[X_7] It was afterwards given up to rabbits, and there is every probability that they will retain undisputed possession of it.

ORACH.

Few vegetables have been more exposed to injurious accusations. Pythagoras reproaches it with causing a livid paleness, dropsy, and the scrofula, in those persons who eat it.[X_8] Nevertheless, a greedy curiosity introduced it into the catalogue of culinary preparations, and the guests of Apicius tasted more than once the fatal orach without knowing its pernicious properties. History does not say that they suffered any pernicious effects from it.

This plant is also eaten like spinach, and mixed with sorrel to soften its acidity.—Bosc.

ROCKET.

Persons about to undergo the punishment of the whip were recommended to swallow a cup of wine, in which rocket had been steeped. It was asserted that this draught rendered pain supportable.[X_9] And again, that this plant, taken with honey, removed the freckles which sometimes appear on the face.[X_10]

Whatever may be the degree of credence accorded to these two recipes, this vegetable enjoyed some reputation among the ancients, who mixed the wild and the garden rocket together, so as to temper the heat of the one by the coldness of the other.[X_11]

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FENNEL.

It was employed but seldom in the preparation of dishes or pastry; but it was believed that the juice of its stalk had the property of restoring or strengthening the sight.[X_12]

DILL.

This plant, which, according to the ancients, weakened the eyes,[X_13] was much renowned for its exquisite odour,[X_14] and its stomachic qualities.[X_15] A much-admired perfume[X_16] was made from it; it produced an agreeable sort of wine or liqueur;[X_17] and a small number of choice dishes, for the enjoyment of connoisseurs, owed to it the reputation they had acquired.[X_18]

ANISE-SEED.

The production of an umbelliferous plant, which grows wild in Egypt, in Syria, and other eastern countries. Pliny recommends it to be taken in the morning, with honey and myrrh in wine:[X_19] and Pythagoras attributes to it eminent Hygeian properties, whether eaten raw or cooked.[X_20]

HYSSOP.

The Greeks, the Romans—and before them, the nations of the east[X_21]—believed that hyssop renews and purifies the blood. This plant, mixed with an equal quantity of salt, formed a remedy much extolled by Columella.[X_22] It was crushed with oil to make a liniment, used as a{89} remedy for cutaneous eruptions.[X_23] An excellent liqueur was obtained from it, known under the name of hyssop wine;[X_24] and lastly, this plant was used in a number of dishes, which it rendered more wholesome and refreshing.

WILD MARJORAM.

Nearly the same qualities were attributed to this herb as to hyssop;[X_25] and it was employed still more frequently in the composition of the most delicate condiments. Dioscorides[X_26] and Cato[X_27] make copious remarks on a much-esteemed liqueur, which they called wild marjoram wine.

SAVORY.

An odoriferous herb, which entered into the seasoning of nearly every dish.[X_28]

THYME.

Besides the various culinary purposes for which the ancients used this plant, they, like ourselves, extracted from thyme aromatic liqueurs,[X_29] the preparation of which will be given in another part of this work.

WILD THYME.

We find it rarely spoken of by magiric writers. Pliny believes it to be most efficacious against the bite of serpents.[X_30]

SWEET MARJORAM.[X_31]

Was much employed in the Isle of Cyprus; very little, if at all, in Rome, where they knew little more of sweet marjoram than the oil extracted from it.[X_32]

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PENNYROYAL.

The ancients entwined their wine caps with pennyroyal,[X_33] and made crowns of it, which were placed on their heads during their repasts, by the aid of which they hoped to escape the troublesome consequences of too copious libations.[X_34] On leaving the table, a small quantity of this plant was taken, to facilitate digestion.[X_35]

Pennyroyal occupied, also, an important place in high gastronomic combinations.

RUE.

The territory of Myra, a city of Lycia, produced excellent rue.[X_36] Mithridates looked upon this vegetable as a powerful counter-poison;[X_37] and the inhabitants of Heraclea, suspicious—and with reason—of the villany of their tyrant, Clearchus, never stirred from their dwellings without having previously eaten plentifully of rue.[X_38] This plant cured also the ear-ache;[X_39] and to all these advantages, it joined that of being welcomed with honour on all festive occasions.[X_40]

MINT.

There was formerly—no matter where or when—a beautiful young girl, who was changed into this plant through the jealous vengeance of Proserpine.[X_41] Thus transformed, she excited the appetite of the guests, and awakened their slumbering gaiety.[X_42] Mint prevented milk from curdling, even when rennet was put into it.[X_43]

SPANISH CAMOMILE.

The Romans sometimes mixed with their drink the burning root of the Spanish camomile;[X_44] and we are astonished at meeting with the name of this formidable plant among the ingredients of some of their dishes.{91}

CUMMIN.

The condiments prepared with cummin had a very great reputation; and culinary authors frequently mention this vegetable, which the Greeks and Romans invariably used.[X_45]

ALISANDER.

The same might be said of alisander, which, in the time of Pliny, passed as an universal remedy,[X_46] and which Apicius honours by naming in many of his dishes.

CAPERS.

Young buds of the caper tree, a shrub—native of Asia, where the species are in great varieties. It was but little thought of at the tables of the higher classes, and therefore was left to the people.[X_47]

The buds of the caper are gathered, and thrown into barrels filled with vinegar, to which a little salt is added; then, by means of several large sieves made of a copper plate, rather hollow, and pierced with holes of different sizes, the different qualities are separated, and classed under different numbers. The vinegar is renewed, and the capers are replaced in the barrel, ready for exportation.

ASAFŒTIDA.

This plant, which we have excluded from our kitchens, and whose nauseous smell is far from exciting the appetite, reigned almost as the chief ingredient in the seasoning of the ancients. Perhaps they cultivated a kind which in no way resembled that of modern times. If it{92} were the same, how are we to explain the extreme partiality which Apicius shows for it? and which he says must be dissolved in luke-warm water, and afterwards served with vinegar and garum.[X_48]

It is certain that the resin drawn by incision from the root of this plant is still much esteemed by the inhabitants of Persia and of India; they chew it constantly, finding the odour and taste exquisite.

“The neck of the root is cleared of the earth it is covered with, and replaced by a handful of herbs. At the end of forty days the summit of the root is out transversely; then a small bundle of herbs is laid over, so as not to touch it. A whitish liquor exudes from the cut, and every other day it is gathered; the cut is renewed until the root is quite exhausted. The result of this crop is laid on leaves, and dried in the sun.”—Bosc.

SUMACH.

The Romans made use of the seed to flavour several kinds of dishes.[X_49]

GINGER.

This root was known at Rome under the Emperors, and many persons have confounded ginger with pepper, although they in no way resemble each other. Pliny refutes this error, and represents it as a native of Arabia.[X_50] It was used with other condiments.[X_51]

“The Indians grate this root in their broth or ragoût; they make a paste which they believe is good against the scurvy. The inhabitants of Madagascar eat it green, in salad, cut in small pieces, and mixed with other herbs, which they season with salt, oil, and vinegar. In other places ginger is taken infused as a drink; it fortifies the chest, and awakens the appetite. It is preserved in sugar after it has been stripped of its bark, and soaked in vinegar. Delicious preserves are made of it with much perfume, and which keep a very long time.”—Dutour.{93}

WORMWOOD.

The Egyptians had a great respect for the wormwood of Taposiris,—no doubt on account of the medicinal properties which physicians attributed to it.

Heliogabalus often regaled the populace with wormwood wine,[X_52] and the Romans gave it to the victorious charioteers. Pliny thinks this plant so salutary that nothing more precious could have been presented to them.[X_53] This explanation appears to have had but little plausibility, and it has been more rationally supposed that this liquor prevented or counteracted any giddiness they might feel. “You can cure yourself of dizziness,” says Strabo, “with the bitter leaf of wormwood.”[X_54]

The Roman wormwood wine was composed in the following manner:

They bruised one ounce of this vegetable, and mixed it with three scruples of gum, as much spikenard, six of balm, and three scruples of saffron; to which was added eighteen setiers, or 180 gallons English, of old wine. This mixture was left to stand some time, but was not heated or subjected to any other process.[X_55]

In pharmacy, wine is made of wormwood; also a syrup, a preserve, an extract, oil by infusion, an essential oil, and wormwood salt. It is supposed that several brewers on the Continent substitute the leaves and flowers of this plant for hops, in the manufacture of beer. It is, perhaps, a calumny, and we only repeat it in a whisper.

“The leaves of wormwood are used in salad to make it more digestible and heighten the flavour. They are preserved in vinegar, and to season dishes. Lastly, they are considered by some persons as a remedy, and the frequent use of them to be indispensable for the preservation of their existence.”—Bosc.

In concluding this chapter, it will be necessary to anticipate a question which naturally presents itself: did the Romans know the art of forcing fruits, and of procuring, at one season, the various vegetables or plants which belong to another period of the year?

Some verses from Martial will leave no doubt on the subject:—

“Whoever has seen the orchards of the King of Corcyrus (Alcinous),{94} dear Entellus, must have preferred thy rural habitation. Thou knowest how to preserve from the rigours of winter the purple grapes of thy vine bower, and prevent the cold frost from devouring the gifts of Bacchus. Thy grapes live enclosed under a transparent crystal, which covers without concealing them.

“What can avaricious nature refuse to the industry of man? Sterile winter is constrained to give up the fruits of autumn.”[X_56]

This curious passage gives us to understand that the Romans had hot-houses and, no doubt, glass bells in their orchards and gardens, to bring sooner to maturity some of those productions of the earth which, by their delicate flavour and perfume, raised the insatiable desires of a people, decidedly the greatest epicureans ever known in the history of gastronomy to the present day.{95}

XI.

FRUITS.

When the Creator placed the first man in the Garden of Eden, he commanded him to nourish himself with the fruit it contained;[XI_1] and, from that epoch, the most ancient which the sacred work records, this kind of aliment is incessantly mentioned in the history of all nations, and at every period of their history.

The great Hebrew legislator seems to have considered fruit trees worthy of his especial care, for he forbad the Jews to cut them down, even on their enemies’ lands;[XI_2] and, in order to teach his people how to preserve them in all their vigour, he declares the fruits of the first three years impure, and consecrates to the Lord those of the fourth.[XI_3] He even goes further; he exempts from military service any one who has planted a vineyard, and all fruit trees conferred the same privilege until the first vintage.[XI_4]

Heathen nations also understood the importance of this branch of agriculture, and invented protective divinities—such as Pomona,[XI_5] Vertumnus,[XI_6] Priapus[XI_7]—whose sole care consisted in protecting orchards from the inclemency of the seasons, and dispelling insects and robbers, who would damage and plunder the crops.

Each kind had, moreover, a benevolent patron, who could not honestly refuse to be useful to it: thus the olive tree grew under the auspices of Minerva;[XI_8] the Muses cherished the palm tree;[XI_9] the pine and its cone were consecrated to the great Cybele;[XI_10] Bacchus complacently ripened the perfumed pulp of the fig[XI_11] and the rosy grape,[XI_12] which placed him on a level with the gods.

Among the Greeks, fruits appeared on table at the second course;[XI_13] and were eaten either cooked, raw, or in the form of preserves.{96}

The Romans sometimes breakfasted on a small quantity of dried fruits;[XI_14] but the third course of their cœna, or principal repast, offered an incredible profusion of the productions of their own orchards, and of those of three parts of the world.[XI_15]

Rich patricians, after they had exhausted all the immense resources of an incredible luxury—in their garments, habitations, and banquets—contrived to plant fruit trees on the summit of high towers, and on the house tops;[XI_16] thus suspending forests over their heads,[XI_17] as well as vast reservoirs, to keep alive the most exquisite fish.[XI_18]

At Rome they had an expensive, but, as they thought, effective process of preparing pears, apples, plums, figs, cherries, &c., &c., and which was as follows:—

The fruit was chosen with great care, and put, with the stalks attached, into honey, leaving to each one sufficient space to prevent their touching each other.[XI_19]

Our housewives of the 19th century may, perhaps, be curious to try this Roman experiment, if the quantity of honey which it requires does not frighten them.{97}

XII.

STONE FRUIT.

OLIVE TREE.

Throughout antiquity we find the olive tree acknowledged as something venerable and holy, and taking precedence of all other trees, even the most useful on account of their nourishing fruits, or the refreshing drink they furnished. The wise Minerva gave it birth;[XII_1] and its foliage, which adorned the brows of the goddess,[XII_2] served, thenceforth, to crown victory,[XII_3] or to give rise to the sweet hopes of peace.[XII_4] A green bough of olive rendered the suppliant inviolable.[XII_5] The deadly arrows of Hercules were made of its wood.[XII_6] From it princes borrowed their sceptre[XII_7] and the shepherd his crook.[XII_8]

If, abandoning mythological fictions which surround the olive with a charming but false poetry, we interrogate history for more certain information concerning this revered tree, we shall find that Diodorus, of Sicily, informs us Minerva discovered and made known to the Athenians its useful qualities.[XII_9] And a writer, in whose possession the most ancient records in the world were found—Moses—who has recounted the birth of vegetation,[XII_10] tells us also of a patriarch pouring purified oil on a stone altar,[XII_11] before the olive tree was known in Athens—nay, before Athens existed.

Profane historians honour Aristeus, son of Apollo, and King of Arcadia, with the invention of oil mills, and the manner of procuring the precious fluid,[XII_12] the abundance of which was such, in the East, that it was used in lamps,[XII_13] in anointing,[XII_14] in seasoning of dishes,[XII_15] and in numerous other instances too long to enumerate.[XII_16]

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Thus the most important culture among the Jews was that of the olive tree. There were large plantations of it in all the provinces: Galilea, Samaria, and Judea, were full of them.[XII_17] It must not, however, be thought the Hebrews used olives only to make oil; they knew how to preserve them in brine, to be eaten at table, and for sale to strangers. Pliny particularly extols those of Decapolis, a province of the Holy Land: “They are very small,” he says, “not larger than capers; but are much esteemed.”[XII_18]

Among the Greeks, the oil of Samos was considered to be the purest and finest:[XII_19] next to it they gave preference to that of Caria or of Thurium.[XII_20]

As regards olives, the Colymbades, or floating kinds were more esteemed than any other, on account of their size and taste;[XII_21] they had an exquisite flavour imparted to them by being placed with different herbs in pots of oil:[XII_22] the Halmade olives were preserved in brine.[XII_23]

The cultivation of the olive tree was carried to a great extent in Greece; a host of poets sang in honour of this tree,[XII_24] which produced so sweet a fruit; and Theophrastus speaks of it very frequently in his celebrated treatise on plants.[XII_25]

The Romans were not acquainted with it until later; and even in the year 249 B.C., they possessed so few olive trees that a pound of oil sold for twelve As, or three shillings; less than two centuries after (74 B.C.), ten pounds of it only cost one As; but Italy had so far increased its plantations at the end of a few years (52 B.C.) that it was able to furnish olive trees to the neighbouring countries.[XII_26] Its olives and oil were thought excellent; however, those of Grenada and Andalusia were preferred to them, even in the time of Pliny,[XII_27] on account of their sweetness and delicate flavour. That illustrious naturalist has transmitted to us particulars of the highest interest on the cultivation of the olive tree, and the various preparations which its fruit requires, or rather, to which it is necessarily subjected for the luxury of the table.[XII_28] Those who are curious on this subject may also consult Cato (the first among the Romans who has written on this tree),[XII_29] Varro,[XII_30] and Columella,[XII_31] concerning the art of raising the plants, of gathering the olives, of extracting the oil, and of preserving the olives themselves. This latter operation was performed as follows:—

They took twenty-five pounds of olives, six pounds of quick-lime, broken very small and dissolved in water, to which twelve pounds of oak{99} ashes and water in proportion were added. The olives were left to soak for eight or ten hours in this lye; then taken out, washed with care, and immersed for eight days in very clear soft water, which was changed several times. They then took hot water in which some stems of fennel had been infused; this plant was taken out, and the same water saturated with salt until an egg would float. When it was quite cold, the olives were put into this pickle.[XII_32]

As regards the large olives, or colymbades, they were sometimes crushed after the first operation, that the brine might penetrate more easily; and odoriferous herbs were added to give them a better flavour. This was the way they prepared those from the marshes of Ancona—the only ones admitted at the tables of gourmets.[XII_33]

At Rome, olives made their appearance in the first course, at the beginning of the repast; but sometimes, after their introduction, the gluttony of the guests caused them to be served again with the dessert: so that they opened and closed the banquet.[XII_34]

The distributions of oil, to which Latin authors often allude, were somewhat rare for a long period. The people looked upon this fluid more as an object of luxury than a necessary of life, and it was only on extraordinary occasions that they were gratified with it. Thus, when Scipio Africanus began his curule edileship, each citizen received a measure of oil.[XII_35] After his example, Agrippa made similar distributions, in the reign of Augustus. They became more frequent under the Emperors; and Severus ordered that an immense quantity should be brought into Rome.[XII_36]

Venafra, a town of Campania, supplied excellent oil.[XII_37] Pliny says that it surpassed that of all the rest of Italy.[XII_38] However in those days, as at present, much was consumed of a very bad quality: for instance, that which was served by a clumsy Amphytrion to Julius Cæsar, and with which this prince seemed perfectly satisfied—a proof that the celebrated warrior was either a man of exquisite politeness or an epicure of very scanty ability.[XII_39]

Independently of the culinary preparations in which oil was abundantly used, the ancients also employed much of it for anointing themselves; and, when at the bath, a slave always carried some in a vase,[XII_40] with which they were rubbed. It was believed that the vital heat was thus concentrated, the strength increased, and health preserved.

Augustus inquiring one day of Pollio what ought to be done to{100} preserve health in extreme old age: “Very little,” was his answer; “drink wine, and rub yourself with oil.”[XII_41]

We sall conclude this article by transcribing the recipe of an odoriferous oil for which the Liburnians were celebrated, and which Apicius considered worthy of his attention.

Pound some alder and cyperus (sedges) with green laurel leaves till they are reduced to a very fine powder—put this powder into Spanish oil, add a condiment of salt,[XII_42] and stir this mixture with great care for three days or more, then let it remain for some time.[XII_43]

Olive oil was little known in France under the two first races of her kings. In the reign of Charlemagne it was drawn from the east and Africa, and was so rare that the Council of Aix-la-chapelle (817) allowed the monks to make use of the oil from bacon. In 1491 the Pope allowed Queen Anne (of Bretagne), then afterwards the whole province, and successively the other French provinces, the use of butter in seasoning on fast days.

PALM TREE.

The poet Pontanus has related, in beautiful Latin verses, the history of two palm trees cultivated in the kingdom of Naples. For a long time there had been a fine one growing in the environs of Otranto, loaded every year with flowers, and yet producing no fruit, in spite of the vigour of the tree and the heat of the climate. But one summer every one was much surprised at seeing this same tree produce a quantity of excellent and very ripe fruit. Astonishment changed into admiration when it was discovered that another palm tree, cultivated at Brindes (fifteen leagues distant), had that same year blossomed for the first time. From that period the palm tree of Otranto continued to yield fruit every year, notwithstanding the distance between it and the one at Brindes.[XII_44]

The palm tree, which mythologic ages consecrated to the Muses,[XII_45] was very common with the Hebrews,[XII_46] to whom it supplied an exhilarating beverage called sechar, which is often mentioned with wine of the grape.[XII_47]

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Moreover, everything was useful in this tree.

The wood was employed for constructing buildings and for fuel; the leaves were used to make ropes, mats, and baskets; and the fruit served as food for man and cattle.[XII_48] From the dates a great quantity of honey was extracted, but very little inferior to ordinary honey;[XII_49] and those which were not consumed were sent abroad with so much the more ease that they keep well.[XII_50]

According to Pliny, this fruit was in reputation in Greece and Rome; and he names several excellent species which came from Judea, and principally from Jericho and the valleys of Archelais, Livias, and Phasaelis.[XII_51]

Two Greek writers[XII_52] inform us that the favourite of Herod, Nicolas of Damascus, a poet, philosopher, and historian, much liked by Augustus, sent to the Roman Emperor every year a peculiar kind of date from Palestine; and that the monarch, who became very partial to them, gave them the name of his friend. Bread and cakes were also made with them.

We shall often have occasion to remark that dates were frequently introduced in the composition of the most exquisite dishes of the Romans.

Dates not quite ripe, if exposed to the sun, become in the first place soft, then pulpy, and lastly acquire a consistency similar to that of French plums; they can then be preserved, and sent to foreign markets.

Riper dates are squeezed to draw out a sweet juice, very pleasant, and which is put, together with the other part, in large vessels, and kept in that state, or buried in the earth. These are the ones commonly used by the rich as food; the others are given up to the poorer class.

Dates are eaten either with or without preparation, or mixed with different kinds of viands. Their syrup is used as a sauce to various dishes.

They are also completely dried for exportation; when reduced into flour, the caravans in the Desert employ them as food. By crushing them in soft water wine is made, which produces a strong spirit, very agreeable.

The best dates are yellowish, semi-transparent, odoriferous, and sweet.{102}

CHERRY TREE.

When on a very hot summer day some inviting cherries deliciously quench our burning thirst, we very little think of offering to Mithridates a souvenir of affection and gratitude. Such is man: he enjoys his wealth, and cares very little for the benefactor who has procured it for him. This ancient King of Pontus, of toxologic memory, and better known by physicians than gardeners, did not, however, pass the whole of his life in composing poisons and their antidotes; for his royal hands planted, and sometimes grafted, and it is to this useful pastime that we are indebted[XII_53] for the sweet fruit, the name of which recalls to mind the city or country which was its birth-place.

Ancient authors have told us, it is true, that Europe is indebted for its cherries to Lucullus,[XII_54] and that he made use of the cherry tree to ornament his triumphal car; honour is therefore due to the Roman general, but on condition that Mithridates shall lose nothing of his glory, or be eclipsed by the renown of this great conqueror.

The researches of several naturalists lead us to believe that cherry trees already existed at that period in Gaul. This tree delights in cold climates; and the wildest forests of France contain almost the whole of its varieties. Perhaps at Rome they knew no other than the wild cherry tree, which on that account was very little sought after, and Lucullus probably brought it to notice by bringing some grafts or fruits from Cerasus. In this manner the passage of Pliny[XII_55] and that of Virgil[XII_56] can very well be explained, which present the cherry tree as a new guest.

Moreover, the Milesian, Xenophanes, and the physician, Diphilus of Siphne, have spoken of cherries long before Lucullus was in existence. Diphilus praises them in the strongest terms; he says they are stomachic, and have a delicious flavour.[XII_57] This certainly cannot apply to the sour wild fruit which is to be met with in the woods, and with which the most inexperienced palate is never twice caught.

At all events the authority of Theophrastus would be sufficient to remove all doubts, if any still remained. He informs us that, in his time, the good cherries of Mithridates passed from Lower Asia into{103} Greece,[XII_58] where they were gladly received as in all other nations, on account of their form, taste, and qualities. This happy gastrologic event was accomplished 300 years before the Christian era, whereas the introduction of cherry trees by Lucullus took place 228 years later.

The capital of the world knew not, at first, how to appreciate this present as it deserved: the cherry tree was propagated so slowly in Italy, that more than a century after its introduction it was far from being generally cultivated.[XII_59]

The Romans distinguished three principal species of cherries: the Apronian, of a bright red, with a firm and delicate pulp; the Lutatian, very black and sweet; the Cæcilian, round and stubby, and much esteemed.[XII_60]

This fruit embellished the third course in Rome, and the second at Athens.

“The fruit of the cherry tree is eaten raw, cooked, preserved with sugar, and in brandy; it is also preserved dry, or made into ratafia. By fermentation, the juice of cherries, with the kernel, by adding sugar, makes a very agreeable liquor, which is called cherry wine; a brandy is produced with fermented cherries drawn by the alembic, very powerful; that named kirschen wasser, in the province of German-Lorraine, is a spirituous liquor, obtained by the distillation of various species of wild cherries.”—Bosc.

APRICOT TREE.

The apricot tree was called by the Romans Armeniaca, the tree of Armenia, where it originated. It must be looked upon as a useful monument of the valour of the masters of the world, if it be true that, after their conquest, they brought it from that province into Rome.[XII_61]

The Latins also named the apricot præcocia (precocious), because it ripens at the beginning of summer (in June) before other fruits.[XII_62]

At the time when Pliny wrote (A.D. 72) the apricot tree had only been known at Rome for 30 years; and apricots, still very rare, cost one denarius, or sevenpence halfpenny each:[XII_63] they were only to be found in the first-rate shops of the fruit market or emporium of the third region, near the Metasudante, which was only open every ninth{104} day; or near the Naval Camp, outside the Trigemina Gate. Some years later the agriculturists of the Roman suburbs brought into the city some excellent ones at a very low price; but the fashion and the taste for them had gone by.

“The green apricot is preserved before the stone becomes hard; when ripe it is eaten raw, cooked, or stewed in marmalade; preserves are made of it, as well as a dried paste, which keeps a long time; they are also preserved in brandy. The stone as it is, or broken, is used in ratafia of Noyau. Lastly, the kernel produces oil.”—Dutour.

PEACH TREE.

This fruit tree, originally from Persia, was first transplanted into Greece,[XII_64] where it existed a long time before it passed into Italy. It was still quite a novelty in Rome towards the middle of the 1st century of the Christian era, and the rich alone could eat peaches, for they cost no less than £11 13s. 4d. the dozen, or 18s. 9d. each.[XII_65] This is rather dear fruit, however good it may be. But the bill of fare of certain banquets will show us, by-and-by, whether the Roman gastronomics knew how to spend their gold profusely, when they wished to satisfy a caprice or enjoy some dainty curiosity.

It was believed in Rome that the peach contained a deadly poison when gathered in Persia;[XII_66] but that, once transplanted to another soil, it lost its injurious properties. This singular opinion, still held by many persons in the present day, has been refuted by Pliny, who treats it as a ridiculous idea;[XII_67] at any rate, Galen[XII_68] and Dioscorides[XII_69] assert that this fruit is indigestible, unwholesome, and that it often causes fevers.

The high price of peaches, and the short duration of their freshness, caused amateurs to seek the means of preserving them for the longest possible time. The following is the recipe given by Apicius:—

“Choose the finest of this fruit, and place them in water, saturated with salt. The next day take them out, dry them with the greatest care, and then put them into a vessel with savory, vinegar, and salt.”[XII_70]

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PLUM TREE.

Plum trees were known in Africa from time immemorial; and Theophrastus speaks of the great number of these trees which were to be found at Thebes, Memphis, and especially at Damascus.[XII_71] Athenæus, also, praises the excellent plums of this last-named city;[XII_72] and we know that time has not lessened their ancient reputation.

Asia and Egypt sent a great quantity to Europe; and, in order that they might keep better during this long voyage, a part of them were dried, and the rest were preserved—that is to say, the best—in honey and sweet wine.[XII_73] These were the only kind known in Rome in the time of Cato (150 years B.C.), but the Romans, then novices in the art of good living, would have but ill-appreciated the delicate and perfumed pulp of Damascus plums, at the moment when, hardly plucked from the tree, their fresh and velvet-like bloom delights the eye and tempts the palate of epicures. Two centuries later the science of good living made incredible progress. A magiric atmosphere enveloped the capital of the universe with its delicious fragrance, and the joyous free livers of Italy cultivated in their gardens plums of the most beautiful purple and gold,[XII_74] far superior to the much-extolled fruit from Damascus and Memphis. The fields everywhere offered such luxuriance of plum trees that Pliny, the opposition man, or juste milieu of that time, complained of their number,[XII_75] and grieved at what he fancied a useless and expensive profusion of them.

The ancient Counts of Anjou transplanted the plums of Damascus into their province; and the good King René of Sicily, Duke of Anjou and Count of Provence, introduced them into southern Europe.[XII_76]

The plums of Monsieur are thus named because Monsieur, the brother of Louis XIV., was very fond of them.[XII_77]

The plums of Reine Claude owe their name to the first consort of Francis I., daughter of Louis XII.[XII_78]

The plums of Mirabelle were brought from Provence into Lorraine by King René.[XII_79]

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XIII.

PIP FRUIT.

QUINCE TREE.

This tree appears to have been a native of Cydon, a city of Crete; from hence it passed into Greece,[XIII_1] and soon became the delight of its voluptuous inhabitants. The environs of Corinth, above all, were noted for the sweetness and beauty of their quinces,[XIII_2] which the enlightened luxury of Attica preferred to all others.

Rome did not fail to enrich itself with a fruit[XIII_3] to which the ingenuity of culinary art was to give a new flavour. Young plants were first imported from abroad, and put in boxes;[XIII_4] but the Romans knew not how to rear them, and were obliged for a long time to content themselves with excellent quinces preserved in honey, and sent from Iberia and Syria to the great capital.[XIII_5]

At last they learned how to cultivate the quince tree,[XIII_6] and subsequently introduced it into Gaul, where it succeeded admirably. They, too, could then enjoy, with a certain pride, preserves nothing inferior to those of Spain,[XIII_7] and which the confectioners in the “market of dainties,”[XIII_8] kept in reserve with quince wine[XIII_9] for the tables of the patricians; and also the stomachic exhilarating liqueur extracted from the fruit of sweet Cydoneum,[XIII_10] which even a petite maîtresse would not have disdained at a light morning repast.

At any rate, the faculty this time agreed with culinary chemistry in recommending to epicures those delicious preparations. It was asserted, besides, that the quince possessed the most beneficial qualities,[XIII_11] first, as{107} an aliment, and next, as a counter-poison:[XIII_12] gourmandise made the mind docile, and none doubted its marvellous virtues.

This fruit, so much extolled, was preserved by placing it with its branches and leaves in a vessel, afterwards filled with honey or sweet wine, which was reduced to half the quantity by ebullition.[XIII_13]

PEAR TREE.

Many countries have disputed the honour of having given birth to the pear tree. According to some it was a native of Mount Ida, so renowned for its refreshing fountains; others said Alexandria; and in the opinion of some writers it came from different parts of Greece. Let us add to this enumeration Palestine, where this tree grew at a very remote period.[XIII_14]

It results from these different allegations that the ancients were acquainted with the pear tree; that they cultivated and were fond of pears, which is not at all surprising, as they are an excellent fruit. Theophrastus was very fond of them; he speaks of them very often,[XIII_15] and always with praise. The same thing may be affirmed of Pliny,[XIII_16] and more particularly of Galen, whose medical authority was formerly of so much weight. The learned physician of Pergamo is pleased to recognise in the pear strengthening qualities which benefit the stomach, and an astringent virtue which the apple does not possess in the same degree.[XIII_17]

Like us, the Greeks and Romans distinguished several kinds of this fruit, whose names indicated their taste and forms. It is not certain whether they possessed the Bon Chrétien, which honours our tables in winter, either raw or cooked. This name reminds us of its origin, which we will relate.

Louis XI., King of France, had sent for Saint François de Paule from the lower part of Calabria, in the hopes of recovering his health through his intercession. The saint brought with him the seeds of this pear, and as he was called at court Le Bon Chrétien, this fruit received the name of him to whom France owed its introduction.[XIII_18]

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APPLE TREE.

A very ancient tradition—for it is six thousand years old—represents the apple as being, from the beginning of the world, the inauspicious fruit to which may be traced all the miseries of mankind. We crave permission to defend it from this accusation, merely by these few words, “That it is nowhere written.”

The holy books rarely speak of the apple tree. If we are not mistaken, it is only mentioned in five passages[XIII_19] of the sacred writings, and at periods very distant from the first offence of man. Therefore, nothing indicates aversion or contempt on the part of the inspired writers for this tree, which on one occasion serves even as a graceful term of comparison;[XIII_20] from which it might be concluded that the inhabitants of the east thought as much of it as other nations.

There is one (and perhaps only one) example of a singular and excessive repugnance to apples. It is said that Uladislas, King of Poland, no sooner perceived them than he became so confused and terrified that he immediately fled. It certainly required very little to disturb this poor prince!

Greece produced very beautiful apple trees, and their fruit was so excellent, that it was the favourite dessert of Philip of Macedon, and of his son, Alexander the Great, who caused them to be served at all their meals.[XIII_21] Probably they were obtained purposely for them from the island of Eubœa, which enjoyed an extraordinary reputation for apples.[XIII_22]

The Athenian legislator—the wise Solon—almost succeeded in throwing discredit on this aliment, so much liked by his fellow-citizens, by a sumptuary law which he thought it necessary to establish.

The inhabitants of Attica were fond of good living; and when one of them took a wife he spared no expense to give splendour to the nuptial banquet—a very excusable pride on such an occasion. Solon was in the habit of interfering rather too much in the affairs of others. Every one has his failing, and this was his: he imagined that his fellow citizens fared too sumptuously on their wedding-day; and, in order to curtail an expense contrary to his ideas of economy, he ordered that the{109} bridegroom should be content with a single apple, while his guests were regaling themselves at his expense. Who would believe it? This law was religiously observed by the Greeks, and the Persians thought it so original that they, in their turn, adopted it.[XIII_23]

The Latins gave a favourable reception to the apple tree, and cultivated it with care. Eminent citizens of Rome did not disdain to give their names and patronage to different kinds procured by themselves, or which they had improved in their orchards. The Manlian apples were so called after Manlius; the Claudian after Claudius, their patron; the Appian owed their name to Appius. Some others preserved that of their native country: such were the Sidonians, the Greeks, and the Epirotes.

After the conquest of Gaul, the Romans introduced all these fruits;[XIII_24] and as the climate was more favourable to apple trees than that of Italy, they soon multiplied to a surprising extent. France ought to be grateful to those proud warriors for a present that enriched that province of the empire, and which perhaps still contributes to its prosperity.

LEMON TREE.

Among the richest productions of Media, Virgil mentions a tree, to whose fruit he attributes the greatest virtues against all poisons. The description he gives of it seems to belong to the lemon tree.[XIII_25] However this may be, its origin, and even its identity, have given rise to the most animated disputations.

Many have asserted that Juba, King of Mauritania (50 years B.C.), spoke of the lemon tree, and that he looked upon it as being very ancient. They add, that the Lybians gave to its fruit the name of “Hesperide apples,” that Hercules stole, and which, on account of their colour, were called “golden apples” by the Greeks, who were indebted to that hero for their introduction.[XIII_26]

Others maintain that no one has spoken of them before Theophrastus,[XIII_27] who called them “Median apples,” after the place of their origin; and that consequently those persons were wrong who confounded them with the apples taken from the garden of the Hesperides.[XIII_28]

{110}

These difficulties will probably disappear, if we remember that the ancients have given to the lemon tree various names[XIII_29] which belong to other trees. The truth is, that the Athenians received it from the Persians, who were neighbours of the Medes, and from Attica it spread all over Greece.[XIII_30]

Lemons were only known to the Romans at a very late period, and at first were used only to keep the moths from their garments. The acidity of this fruit was unpleasant to them, and Apicius makes no use of it: those who wish to satisfy their curiosity on the subject may read the remarks of Lister, the celebrated physician of Queen Anne, and editor of the works of this famous gourmet.[XIII_31]

In the time of Pliny, the lemon was hardly known otherwise than as an excellent counter-poison.[XIII_32]

Fifty years after that, Palladius reared the plants which he had received from Media,[XIII_33] and at last this tree was slowly naturalized in the south of Europe.

A considerable number of anecdotes have been told of the anti-venomous properties of the lemon. Athenæus speaks of two men who did not feel pain from the bite of dangerous serpents, because they had previously eaten of this fruit.[XIII_34] Either this story is false, or men and things have strangely altered.

Apicius preserves lemons by putting each of them into a separate vessel, which is hermetically sealed with plaster, and afterwards suspended from the ceiling.[XIII_35]

In another place we shall speak of the tables and beds made of the lemon tree, so fashionable amongst the Romans, and for which they spent prodigious sums.

One thing remains to be noticed; and that is, that preserved lemon peel was considered as one of the best digestives, and that doctors recommend it to weak and delicate persons.[XIII_36]

ORANGE TREE.

If confidence is to be placed in some authors, the native land of the orange tree would appear to be the gardens of the Hesperides, so remarkable{111} in mythologic ages, and it was found also in Western Africa, Mauritania, and the Fortunate Islands; to which they add those mountains of Atlas so little known in a botanical point of view, notwithstanding the daring excursions of several learned men.

According to other observers, it originally came from the southern countries of China,[XIII_37] from the islands of the Indian Archipelago, or even from that portion of the globe called Oceania.

One incontestable fact is, that writers of antiquity were completely ignorant of the existence of this superb tree. Had they known it, its majestic height, the dark green of its foliage, the suavity of its flowers, its fruit, so fine, bright, and so flattering to the taste, could not have failed to inspire them with brilliant pages. Theophrastus, and the Latin geoponics, never would have neglected to speak of the luxury and fecundity it displays, even in the season of hoary frost. Besides, the name of Portughan, which is given to the orange by the Arabs—a name foreign to their language, but which is again heard among the Italians, Spaniards, and even in the southern provinces of France—is it not an indication that the introduction of this tree has some connection with the Portuguese voyages to India, particularly those of Juan de Castro in the year 1520?

It is the Portuguese who have planted the orange tree in the Canaries, at Madeira, where it was supposed to be indigenous on account of the vigorous vegetation it there displays: it is the Portuguese who have introduced this tree into all countries washed by the Mediterranean: and it is still the Portuguese who have furnished the parent suckers, whence the Spaniards have been enabled to form their immense groves in Andalusia and Algarvia.[XIII_38]

From the foregoing recital we may conclude that the grand poliphagic triumvirate of antiquity—Archestratus, Vitellius, and Apicius—never tasted this fruit, which Heaven reserved for the appreciation of modern times. Blessed shades! if, attracted sometimes by the exquisite vapours of our stoves, you should wander again round those succulent dishes which a more experienced chemistry enables us to elaborate: if fruitless gastronomic reminiscences should lead you into the delightful retreat of some one of your disciples, who by his enlightened skill is there preparing the treasures of the dessert: oh! turn away your eyes from those enticing fruits which display their golden rays, and rise in pyramids upon a porcelain pedestal. Here are oranges, the{112} nectar and ambrosia of the Olympian ages, which you doubtless regret, and we have again discovered. These wonders of sweetness existed perhaps in China, but you knew it not, for China did not become a Roman province. But console yourselves, giants of cookery! we have not yet attained the high pinnacle of your art; your wild boar à la Troyenne, your peacocks’ brains, and your phenicopters’ tongues, secure for you a triumph which posterity will dispute in vain!

The orange known under the name of “Portugal orange” comes from China. Not more than two centuries ago the Portuguese brought thence the first scion, which has multiplied so prodigiously that we now see entire forests of orange trees in Portugal.[XIII_39]

It appears to have been the custom formerly, in England, to make new-year’s presents of oranges stuck full with cloves. We read in one of Ben Jonson’s pieces, the “Christmas Masque,” “He has an orange and rosemary, but not a clove to stick in it.”[XIII_40]

At the present day we can dispense with this embellishment.

The first orange tree cultivated in the centre of France was to be seen a few years ago at Fontainebleau. It was called Le Connétable (the Constable), because it had belonged to the Connétable de Bourbon, and had been confiscated, together with all property belonging to that prince, after his revolt against his sovereign.[XIII_41]

FIG TREE.

Antiquity, sacred and profane, has not left us, on any other tree, facts so clear and certain as upon the fig tree; it is the only tree of Eden of which the sacred books have preserved to us any mention.[XIII_42] In the East there were immense plantations of it; Egypt had some also;[XIII_43] and the land of Canaan produced figs, which enabled Moses to judge of its fertility.[XIII_44]

The Scriptures, in order to give us an idea of the happiness and tranquillity the Jews enjoyed under the reign of Solomon, tell us that, “in Judea and in Israel all dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under his fig tree.”[XIII_45]

And the fruit of this tree was no doubt very dear to the Hebrews,{113} since Rubshakeh, the general of the Assyrian army, thought to seduce them from their obedience to Hezekiah, King of Judea, by saying to them: “Come out to me, and then eat ye every man of his own vine, and every one of his fig tree.”[XIII_46]

Thus the trade carried on with figs in Jerusalem had become so considerable and active, that Esdras was obliged to interdict it on the Sabbath day. It appears that figs were arranged in small masses, to which they give the form of loaves or cakes, either round or square, which were sold nearly in the same way as at the present day.[XIII_47]

From the East the fig tree passed into Greece, then into Italy, Gaul, Spain, and throughout Europe.

The Athenians pretended that this tree was a native of their soil, and this people never wanted mythologic facts to support their assertions; they imagined, and would have others believe, that the grateful Ceres rewarded the Athenian, Phytalus, for his hospitality by giving him a fig tree, which served for all the plantations of Attica.[XIII_48]

Whatever may be the way it came to them, they received it with transports of joy; it was planted with great pomp in the centre of the public square at Athens: from that time this spot was sacred to them.[XIII_49]

Ere long the fame of the figs of Attica spread far and wide: they were the best in Greece; and the magistrates strictly prohibited their exportation.[XIII_50] This law was afterwards modified, that is, the exportation of figs was allowed on payment of a very heavy duty.

They then appointed inspectors, whose duty it was to discover contraventions, and report them: thence arose the name of Sycophant,[XIII_51] taken by those informers—a vile and dispised set of men, whose denunciations were often false, and with whom the infamous authors of a base calumny were eventually assimilated.[XIII_52]

In Greece every one feasted on figs: it was a sort of regular gastronomic furore, which knew no bounds, and the wise Plato himself ceased to be a philosopher when presented with a basket of that fruit. As an aliment it was considered so wholesome and strengthening, that on the first introduction of them they constituted the food of the athletæ, whose patron, Hercules, had also fed on them in his youth.

The superiority of the Greek figs was so generally acknowledged that the kings of Persia even had a predilection for them: dried ones were served on the tables of these ostentatious princes.[XIII_53]

{114}

The Romans believed, according to an antique tradition, that their first princes, Romulus and Remus, were found under a fig tree on the shore of the Tiber; they therefore rendered signal honours to this tree when it was brought into Italy: they planted it in the Forum; and it was under its shade that a sacrifice was offered every year to the shepherdess who had suckled their founder.[XIII_54]

It may, nevertheless, be affirmed, that no one before Cato had noticed the fig tree,[XIII_55] which probably appeared in Rome at the same period as the peach, apricot, and other trees of Asia. Sixty years afterwards Varro speaks of it as a novelty from beyond sea, and points out to us that its various species have retained the names of the countries whence they came.[XIII_56]

Those varieties were so numerous, that Pliny counts no less than twenty-nine of them,[XIII_57] and the designation of the greater part recalled to mind the illustrious families who had taken them under their patronage.

The people of the north, especially the moderns, cannot well explain the extraordinary infatuation of the ancient southern nations for the fruit of the fig tree. Perhaps we ought to look for the reason in the nourishing, fresh, and sweet qualities of its pulp, and in the numerous plantations of those trees, which sometimes furnished an agreeable food to entire armies, when other provisions failed.[XIII_58] That of Philip of Macedon owed its preservation to the figs brought to it by the Magnesians.[XIII_59] A long time before, David received with joy, from the hands of Abigail, two hundred baskets of dried figs, for himself and his exhausted men.[XIII_60]

More than once the far-famed reputation of some beautiful plantations of fig trees brought long and disastrous wars on an entire country, as steel attracts lightning. Xerxes left Persia, and rushed on Attica, to take possession of those delicious figs, whose renown only had crossed his territory:[XIII_61] and it was partly to eat the figs of Rome that the Gauls waged war against Italy:[XIII_62] thank Heaven we have now more respect for our neighbours’ fig trees.

The best things in the world have had their detractors, and the fig is not an exception. Philotimus and Diphilus looked upon it as bad food;[XIII_63] Galen was unwell after partaking of figs, and he recommends us to mix almonds with them;[XIII_64] Hippocrates himself thought them indigestible, and advised to drink plentifully after eating them.[XIII_65]

All these great men may have been right, but the Greeks, their {115}contemporaries, acted as if they were wrong: happily we are not called upon to decide between them.

Figs were commonly served on aristocratic tables with salt, pepper, vinegar, and some aromatics; they were eaten fresh, or dried in the oven, or on hurdles in the sun.

RASPBERRY TREE.

The ancients hardly mention the raspberry tree, which they placed on a level with the bramble. The Latins called it “Bramble of Ida,” because it was common on that mountain.[XIII_66] There can be no doubt, however, that the Romans knew how to appreciate the raspberry tree, so much esteemed in our days.

CURRANT TREE.

The moderns have attempted to ennoble our two kinds of currants by decorating them with Latin names, which recall their antiquity.[XIII_67] Vain effort! To all appearance the Greeks and people of Italy were not acquainted with the currant tree,[XIII_68] although they well deserved to possess this delicious fruit.

STRAWBERRY PLANT.

Among the Greeks the name of the strawberry indicated its tenuity, this fruit forming hardly a mouthful. With the Latins the name reminded one of the delicious perfume of this plant. Both nations were equally fond of it, and applied the same care to its cultivation. Virgil appears to place it in the same rank with flowers,[XIII_69] and Ovid gives it a tender epithet,[XIII_70] which delicate palates would not disavow. Neither does this luxurious poet forget the wild strawberry,[XIII_71] which disappears{116} beneath its modest foliage, but whose presence the scented air reveals. Transported to the tables of the Luculli, by the side of its more brilliant and more beautiful sister, a flattering murmur often bore testimony to its merit, and nature triumphed in the midst of ingenious guests, soliciting of art what they repudiated in nature.

MULBERRY TREE.

The ancient mulberry tree was considered the wisest and most prudent of trees, because it took care, they said, not to let the smallest of its buds come to light before the cold had entirely disappeared, not to return. Then, however, it hastened to repair lost time, and a single night was sufficient to see it display its beautiful flowers, which the next morning brightly opened at the rising of Aurora.[XIII_72]

The voluptuous Romans, reposing late on their soft couches the day after the fatigues of a banquet worthy of Vitellius, did not trouble themselves much about this interesting phenomenon, which occurred, if Pliny does not mistake, in the gardens of their villas. But they knew that mulberries agree with the stomach, that they afford hardly any nourishment, and easily digest:[XIII_73] therefore, no sooner had they opened their heavy eyelids than an Egyptian boy—attentive living bell—at a sign disappeared, and quickly returned, bearing a small crystal vase, filled with mulberry juice and wine reduced by boiling. This beneficent fruit preserved in this mixture all its sweet flavour,[XIII_74] and enabled the rich patrician to await until evening the hour for new excesses.

It is quite evident that this luscious fruit was a native of Canaan, for the high road by which the tribes of Israel went up to the feasts at Jerusalem lay through the valley of Baka, or Mulberry Tree;[XIII_75] and the whole tract of country from Ekron to Gaza abounded in these trees.{117}

XIV.

SHELL FRUIT.

ALMOND TREE.

This tree, whose fruit was called at one time “Greek Nut,” and, at another, “Thasian Nut,”[XIV_1] is a native of Paphlagonia, according to Hermippus.[XIV_2] The nations of the east thought much of almonds, and Jacob found them worthy of appearing among the presents he designed for Joseph.[XIV_3] The almond tree of Naxos supplied the markets of Athens.[XIV_4] The Romans, in their turn, sought them, and believed, like the physician spoken of by Plutarch, that it was only necessary to eat five or six almonds to acquire the ability of drinking astonishingly.[XIV_5]

Besides, this fruit had not always so mean a destination: the disciples of Apicius made of it one of the most delicate of dishes. Here it is, as taught to them by their master:—

Take almonds that have been pounded in a mortar, and mix them with honey, pepper, garum, milk, eggs, and a little oil; submit the whole to the action of a slow fire.[XIV_6]

The ancients were acquainted with the oil of almonds,[XIV_7] of which they made nearly the same use as we do ourselves; but they possessed, in addition, an infallible means of augmenting the fertility of the almond tree. It was very simple:—A hole was made in the tree, a stone was introduced into it,[XIV_8] and, thanks to the virtue of this new manure, the branches soon bent under the weight of almonds.

The good almonds come from Barbary and the south of France.{118} When young, they are preserved like green apricots. They are eaten at table, fresh or dry; in comfits, pastry, &c.: they are also used to make orgeat and refreshing emulsions. The oil extracted from almonds, even bitter ones, is very sweet; it is best extracted cold, by pressure. The pulp is employed, under the name of almond paste, for several purposes, one of which is to render the skin soft and flexible.[XIV_9]

WALNUT TREE.

Asia, the cradle of most fruit trees, gave birth also to the walnut tree. It is believed to be a native of Persia,[XIV_10] and its pleasing foliage already adorned, in Biblical times, the orchards of the east. One of the most ancient of the sacred books informs us that it was known to the Jews,[XIV_11] and it may be inferred from a passage in the Song of Solomon that they possessed numerous plantations of this tree.[XIV_12]

Among the Persians, walnuts were not lavished on the first comer, as with us; the sovereign reserved them for his dessert, and the people were obliged to abstain from them. But perhaps it may be said that, however fond this prince may have been of walnuts, he could not eat all that were produced in his states. The objection is embarrassing, we own, and chroniclers are silent on this point. But let us suppose that this generous potentate distributed to his favourites the walnuts from which his satiated appetite was compelled to abstain; and, indeed, we find that a king of Persia sent some to the Greeks, who called them “Royal Persian nuts,”[XIV_13] in gratitude and remembrance of the august gift.

They did still better; the king of Olympus had a great liking for this fruit, so they hastened to consecrate it to him,[XIV_14] and the “nuts of Jupiter” were cultivated with honour in the whole of Greece.[XIV_15]

Italy received the walnut tree from Attica, and, by degrees, the conquerors of the world introduced it to the different countries of Europe.

The Romans, imitators of the piety of the Greeks, placed this tree also under the protection of the most powerful of their gods. One of their most whimsical customs, perhaps, owed its origin to this consecration, which will serve to explain it:—{119}

After the wedding feast the bridegroom strewed in the nuptial chamber, at night, several baskets of walnuts, which children hastened to pick up.[XIV_16] This was, they said, a kind of offering to Jupiter, and thus he was entreated to grant his supreme patronage to the husband, and to adorn the wife with the virtues of Juno.[XIV_17] The god could not have failed to smile at this part of the request of blind mortals, and it is asserted that, at times, he condescended not to grant it.

Others have given a different interpretation. According to them, the walnut, being covered with a double envelope when fresh, became a presage of abundance and prosperity.[XIV_18]

It would be too tedious to relate all the singular opinions to which this ceremony gave rise. The most reasonable appears to be that adopted by certain commentators:—Walnuts, say they, served as playthings for children, and, by throwing them on the ground the day of his wedding, the bridegroom made it understood that he and his companion renounced the frivolities of youth, henceforth to devote themselves to the serious exigencies of a family.[XIV_19]

This fruit was considered astringent,[XIV_20] stomachic, and proper to facilitate digestion.[XIV_21] It was made into preserve, and eaten in small quantity, mixed with figs. In this manner paralysis of the tongue was avoided—an effect to which it was believed those who partook of them to excess were exposed.[XIV_22] Green walnuts were much esteemed; they were served at dessert,[XIV_23] notwithstanding the opinion of Heraclides, of Tarentum, who looked upon them as a stimulant to the appetite, and advised a trial of them at the beginning of a repast.[XIV_24]

When Pompey had made himself master of the palace of Mithridates, he had search made everywhere for the recipe of the famous antidote against poison used by that king. At length it was found; it was very simple: however, we offer it to the curious:—

Pound, with care, two walnuts, two dried figs, twenty leaves of rue, and a grain of salt.[XIV_25] Swallow this mixture—precipitate it by the assistance of a little wine, and you have nothing to fear from the most active poison for the space of twenty-four hours.{120}

NUT TREE.

The Greeks gave hazel nuts the name of “Pontic Nuts,” and Theophrastus calls them “Nuts of Heraclea,” because the territory of that capital of the kingdom of Pontus produced the best.[XIV_26]

The Latins, at first, retained the same designation for this fruit, but afterwards, the environs of Præneste and Avellinum supplying them with a great quantity of excellent nuts, they gave them the name of those two cities.[XIV_27] They employed also a diminitive[XIV_28] to indicate those which came from the first of these localities. The French Aveline (filbert), and Noisette (hazel nuts), are evidently borrowed from the Roman vocabulary.

The inhabitants of Præneste raised the nut tree to a sort of religious worship. This tree had preserved them from famine during the time Hannibal besieged their city,[XIV_29] and since that memorable epoch it had enriched them, for the ancients preferred hazel nuts to all other shell fruit, as possessing most wholesome and nourishing qualities.[XIV_30]

It was the custom in France, some centuries ago, at the time of the summer solstice (Midsummer eve), to take all the kitchen utensils and make the most frightful clatter by knocking them one against another. The simpletons of those times imagined that there were no better means of preventing the rain, which, in their opinion, was detrimental to filberts and hazel nuts.[XIV_31] Hospinian, who relates this ridiculous custom, does not tell us what results they obtained by all their racket.

PISTACHIO TREE.

This tree, esteemed by the Romans,[XIV_32] is a native of India.[XIV_33] Lucius Vitellius brought some plants of it from Syria to Rome, under the reign of Tiberius; a little time subsequently, a knight, named Flaccus Pompeius, introduced it also into Spain.[XIV_34]

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Galen doubted whether pistachio nuts were good for the stomach.[XIV_35] Avicenna proved the contrary;[XIV_36] and several centuries before the Arabian physician, Roman epicures had courageously demonstrated that this fruit never does harm in whatever form it may be presented, whether raw or roasted, alone or accompanied with garum and salt.

CHESNUT TREE.

According to some writers the chesnut tree owes its name to the city of Castana, in Thessaly, where they maintained it originated. On the contrary, it comes from Sardis, in Lydia, if we are to believe the physician, Diphilus, who calls chesnuts, acorns of Sardis, and says they are nourishing, but indigestible.[XIV_37]

Amaryllis was fond of this fruit;[XIV_38] but Amaryllis was only a shepherdess, and her beauty did not prevent her from having rather rustic tastes. The Roman ladies abandoned the chesnut to that low class of citizens whose palates, incapable of improvement, remain always stationary in the midst of the incessant progress of cookery; sad example of invincible frugality, which the most exciting fumets fail to arouse.

Nevertheless, there was a soft and tender species of chesnut, Castaneæ molles,[XIV_39] which were allowed on some of the tables of the higher class of citizens, and recommended themselves by their delicate pulp to the attention of the guests;[XIV_40] perhaps oil of chesnuts was obtained from this particular kind.[XIV_41]

To render the chesnuts more agreeable and wholesome they must be pealed of their skins, which is very tough; put into boiling water, it penetrates and softens the bitter pellicle (the tan) covering them, and facilitates its removal from the floury substance. When the chesnuts can be easily stripped of this pellicle by the pressure of the fingers, take the jar from the fire; shake them well on all sides. The tan will soon detach itself from their surface, and be altogether removed; then take them out, and after they have been shaken in a sieve made purposely, they are washed in cold water, to take away, with what remains of the tan, the bitter water they may have preserved; they are then cooked without water, in a well-covered vessel, and upon a moderate fire.{122}

“To eat chesnuts green all the year, boil them in water for fifteen or twenty minutes; put them afterwards in a common oven, one hour after the bread has been taken out. By this double operation the chesnuts acquire a degree of cooking and desiccation, by which they can be preserved a very long time, provided they are kept in a dry place. They can be used afterwards by putting them to warm in a bain-marie.”—Dutour.

POMEGRANATE.

Ceres, disconsolate on account of the loss of her daughter, to whom Pluto destined the sceptre of Hell, implored the ruler of Olympus to restore Proserpine. Jupiter promised that the favour should be granted, provided that she had not partaken of anything in the infernal regions. Now, she had eaten some grains of a pomegranate; very few indeed; some serious authors have said three; others, quite as respectable, say nine. The fact is, however, Proserpine had broken her fast; therefore she might think herself fortunate in being allowed to pass six months on earth and six months in the abode of darkness.[XIV_42]

This little mythologic story informs us that the pomegranate tree was known to antiquity, and that the garden of the Elysian fields contained most excellent fruit for the use of its melancholy inhabitants.

The pomegranate, whose acidulated flavour is so pleasing to the inhabitants of hot climates, was first cultivated in the east, then in Africa, but especially in the environs of Carthage, from whence the Romans brought it into Italy, where it was commonly called the Carthaginian apple;[XIV_43] it was also named Granatum, on account of the number of its seeds.[XIV_44]

Pliny distinguishes five different species of promegranate;[XIV_45] Columella teaches the way to rear this tree;[XIV_46] and Apicius treats of the preservation of its fruit, to do which it is only necessary to plunge it in boiling water, take it out immediately, and suspend it from the ceiling.[XIV_47]

The Greeks were very fond of pomegranates. The finest came from Attica, so celebrated by the genius of its inhabitants; and from Bœotia,[XIV_48] that privileged soil, where agriculture and stupidity flourished together.[XIV_49]

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XV.

ANIMAL FOOD.

Bread, vegetables, and fruit for a long time provided man with a sufficient and easy alimentation.[XV_1] Wandering with his flocks in search of cool pasture, he only exacted their wool wherewith to make the clothing requisite for his migratory life;[XV_2] their services to assist him in hollowing a difficult furrow;[XV_3] and their first-born as a most agreeable offering to the all-powerful master of heaven and earth.[XV_4] We may also suppose that, in the pastoral ages, the wandering tribes of Asia added to their vegetable food the milk of their ewes, goats, or cows, although it is not mentioned in the Book of Genesis[XV_5] at a very early period, it is true, but which forms a nourishment nature seems to point out as proper to infancy and old age;[XV_6] mankind, therefore, abstained from animal food during many centuries.[XV_7] Ecclesiastical and profane writers seem to agree on this point.[XV_8] Habit had not yet produced disgust, and curiosity, the fatal mother of experience and sensuality. To eat was for them the most natural and simple action of life. The art of cookery tries, makes choice, and improves: that art did not exist.

The frightful cataclysm which overthrew the world, and of which the history of every nation gives proofs more or less confused, came to modify this state of things. “Men were obliged to be fed with more substantial food,”[XV_9] and our forefathers were allowed to add to vegetables and the herbs of the country, “animated beings, and all that which had life and motion.”[XV_10]

The magiric science, therefore, began in the year of the world 1656.

From that period, indeed, the cooking of meat, however little complicated it may have been, required an attention, care, and study, which{124} prepared the development of that marvellous faculty to which no possible limit can be assigned—the last to disappear, and to which, in fact, are related nearly all the actions of human life—the sense of taste.

Heathen authors, guided by the lights of reason, some gleams of tradition, and perhaps not absolutely strangers to the writings of Moses, agree pretty well on the diet of the Golden Age;[XV_11] that age of innocence, acorns, and happiness,[XV_12] when everywhere were seen streams of milk, and nectar, and honey, flowing from the hollow oaks and other trees of the forests.[XV_13]

But when the question is to point out the time at which the use of animal food was introduced, ideas become clouded, and highly intelligent minds, bewildered by the obscurity which envelops the subject, have frequently appealed to absurd legends and ridiculous fables, invoking the aid of their false and contested authority.

Xenocrates pretends that Triptolemus forbad the Athenians to eat animals.[XV_14] Man must, then, have been still frugivorous for four centuries after the Deluge.

This opinion found contradictors, who maintained that man contented himself with fruit only because fire was wanting to cook meat; but Prometheus came, and taught him how to draw the useful element from the flint which concealed it, and was the first to venture on the sacrifice of an ox.[XV_15] This happened in the year of the world 2412.[XV_16]

All this is a mistake, say other and very sensible writers; here is the truth on this difficult point: The goddess Ceres had sown a field, and the wheat came up as desired, when a pig entered, tumbled about, and caused considerable damage, which so irritated the lady that she punished him with death. Now, as a pig is good for nothing except to eat, this one was eaten; and from that day, so fatal to the swinish race, mankind learnt to appreciate the flesh of animals.[XV_17]

At the same time, Bacchus killed a goat he found nibbling at the tendrils of his darling vines;[XV_18] and Hyberbius, son of Mars, and a slasher, like his father, amused himself by killing another, in order to become familiar thus early with scenes of combat.[XV_19] These goats were roasted; and as experience had as yet furnished no rule of comparison, and formed no taste—that exquisite sentiment of the beautiful in the plastic arts, and of the good in the culinary science—it was decided that this dish was very tolerable.

Hitherto the bovine race had only lost one individual: its sad{125} destiny began in the year 1506, before our era, under the reign of the fourth king of Athens, Erichtonius, on a day of great solemnity, when an ox, pressed probably by hunger, came near the altar, and devoured one of the sacred cakes which heathen piety had dedicated to Jupiter. The zealous Diomus rushed forward, and pierced the heart of the sacrilegious quadruped.

It might be supposed that the anger of the god was immediately appeased; but no! the terrible Jupiter knitted his brows; Olympus was in great agitation; and pestilence came, and spread its ravages amongst the Athenians.

“All did not die, but all were struck;”[XV_20] and, to propitiate the implacable scourge, they thought of nothing better than to institute the Buphonic Feast, which happily re-established their health, and which they continued to celebrate every year. They sacrificed an ox,[XV_21] offered a piece to Jupiter, and the faithful divided the rest among themselves.

At Tyre, in Phœnicia, meat was consumed on the altar, but the gods had the profit of it, and nobody else. Some fruit and a few vegetables were sufficient for the frugality of people enjoying innocent and primitive customs. But it happened, in the time of Pygmalion,[XV_22] that a young sacrificer having perceived that a piece of the victim had fallen, hastened to pick it up and replace it carefully on the fire of the altar. In the performance of this operation he burned his fingers, and instantly put them into his mouth, to lessen the pain. As he could not help tasting the fat with which they were covered, the greedy young man experienced a new sensation, which tempted him to swallow a mouthful—then a second—a portion of the victim was eaten; he put another piece under his cloak, and, with his wife, made the finest supper in his life. All went on very well until the prince, being informed of this profanation, loaded them with reproaches, and condemned both to the punishment of death.

Gluttony, however, is rash: other sacrificers ate—at first in secret—of this forbidden food; then they were imitated; and, at last, by degrees meat passed from the altar of the gods, who did not taste it, to the tables of mortals, who feasted upon it.[XV_23] People may or may not believe this anecdote, which informs us in so satisfactory a manner of the epoch at which man, from being frugivorous, became carnivorous; but one thing is certain, that in the time of Homer (there is only eighty years between him and Pygmalion), the flesh of animals was then much{126} in fashion, for we read of his giving to his heroes, as their principal food, a whole hog, three years old, and oxen roasted—not even jointed.[XV_24]

Some ideologists and dreamers have risen against the use of meat; their declamations, often very eloquent, have been read; but, from Pythagoras, a sublime and honest enthusiast, down to the whimsical J. J. Rousseau—who, by-the-by, was very fond of mutton chops and bœuf à la mode, although he exclaimed against the cruelty of mankind, whose hands were stained with the blood of animals—no nation has yet determined to adopt the patriarchal diet of the first ages of the world.

Plutarch was a vegetarian; and we possess one of his treatises, in which he endeavours to prove that flesh is not the natural food of man.[XV_25] As a conclusive answer—meat was eaten. So, when an ancient philosopher one day denied the movement of matter, a person reduced him to silence by walking.

But, if animal diet has, from time to time, met with a small number of detractors, what an immense crowd of apologists and adepts has it not also found! It would signify nothing to name individuals; let us point out whole nations. Who is not acquainted with the delicacy and luxury of the Assyrians and Persians? Who is not aware that the genius of the Greeks improved the culinary art, and that their cooks were famous in history? What of the Syracusans, whose dainty and curious ideas passed as a proverb; and of the Athenians, who were so passionately fond of the pleasures of the table; or of Naples, Tarentum, and Sybaris, so celebrated for their good cheer? The Romans surpassed even these refinements and sumptuous repasts: theirs is the honour of the pontiffs’ feasts, the excesses of Capreæ, the profusions of Vitellius, of Galba, Nero, and Caligula. They have the honour of the banquet of Geta, which lasted three days, and ended by exhausting the alphabetic list of all the dishes that the universe could supply.

May heaven preserve us from imitating such prodigies of intemperance and gluttonous folly; but let us, at least, be allowed to use with moderation the good that Providence has granted us, and which it has not forbidden us to make agreeable and savoury. The inhabitants of the air, earth, and water, entered within our domains, as well as the fruits of the fields, on the day when the Creator condescended to say to his creature:

“Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb have I given you all things.”[XV_26]

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REARING OF CATTLE.

All ancient legislators have bestowed the most serious attention to the rearing and preservation of cattle. The Mosaic law, in this respect, enters into details which reveal the most profound wisdom, a delicate and minute research which cannot be too much admired.

More attentive to propagate useful animals than to flatter the sensuality of nations, this law forbids their being mutilated;[XV_27] it requires the Hebrews to treat with generosity the companions of their labour;[XV_28] that they shall interest themselves in the preservation of their brother’s, and even of their enemies’ oxen;[XV_29] that different species of unequal strength shall not be yoked together to the plough;[XV_30] and, in order that the cattle may not suffer from an excess of hard and constant labour, Moses assures to them at least one day of rest in a week.[XV_31]

It is well known with what care the patriarchs surrounded their flocks; for them they wandered from region to region, and only stopped where pasture was abundant.[XV_32] In imitation of those fathers of nations, the princes of the East, and the Grecian chiefs, were at first shepherds;[XV_33] and were, perhaps, indebted to the innocent occupations of the fields for the sweet and sacred title of pastors of man.[XV_34]

The founder of Rome did not forget the flocks and herds, in those famous laws which were to assure the prosperity of his rising city;[XV_35] one of them allowed the possessor of an estate to take up the acorns which might fall into his field from his neighbour’s property,[XV_36] and to divide them among the cattle he is rearing.

Under the republic, it was severely forbidden to ill-use beasts of burthen and others. By the Licinian law, each farmer was required to proportion the number of his sheep and oxen to the extent of his land;[XV_37] the Thorian law contains very wise regulations relative to the quality and keeping up of pasture.[XV_38] Moreover, it is to be remarked, that the Romans never fixed the limits of a rural property, nor formed a new colony, without giving their first care to the spots appointed to feed their flocks,[XV_39] the quiet possession of which was assured by the Emperors. Adrian, among others, did not encourage thieves. This prince ordered that whoever carried away cattle grazing in meadows should be condemned{128} to work in the mines; that those who should have been convicted of robbery several times should be beheaded; and that thieves found with arms in their hands should become the prey of wild beasts.[XV_40]

Illustrious families by birth often added to their name a sort of epithet, originating either from bulls, goats, or sheep, which were brought up on the land of their villas. This singular custom proves the extraordinary attachment which the Romans had for their flocks. One of these enthusiasts, Tremellius Scrofa,[XV_41] had written a treatise on the art of assorting and feeding cattle.[XV_42] Greek and Latin geoponics have also transmitted to us some details full of interest, and which often contain most useful information upon the various species of animals which the ancients preferred, and the particular care they took in the preservation and development of various breeds.[XV_43] Pagan theology reckoned among its thirty thousand gods[XV_44] some few protective divinities of flocks. The shepherds invoked Pales[XV_45] and Anna Perenna;[XV_46] dealers of oxen offered sacrifices to Bubona,[XV_47] whose special care it was to see that they were fat and healthy.

The animals chosen to be fattened were put under the protection of this deity, and were fed in the following manner:

The first day they had given to them cabbages, soaked in vinegar; then, for five days, straw, mixed with wheat bran; from the seventh day they had nothing but bruised barley, which was gradually and judiciously increased till the twelfth day. These oxen were fed at midnight, at break of day, at twelve o’clock, and at three in the afternoon. They were allowed to drink only twice—that is, after the third and fourth meal.[XV_48] On the thirteenth day they were led to market.

MARKETS.

The Hebrews held their cattle market at the gates of their cities; and from this circumstance, perhaps, is derived those expressions so frequent in the sacred writings: “The gates of the flocks,” “The sheep’s gate,” &c.,[XV_49] which no doubt designated the different quarters of Jerusalem where shepherds and cattle dealers were accustomed to congregate.

Among the Greeks, vast, airy, public places, used to receive, under{129} the orders, and with the authorisation of the Epimeletes, or curators, the animals and meat necessary for the subsistence of the citizens.

At Rome, the horned cattle market was situated in the eighth region, behind the Capitoline Mount.[XV_50] It was a magnificent place, surrounded with beautiful galleries, in the midst of which stood on its pedestal, a gigantic brazen bull, at a little distance from the temple of Hercules—a round, mean edifice[XV_51]—where dealers and their customers went to adore this god, the patron of butchers.

The way to reach the pig market was by going round the Quirinal Mount, near the bronze horses of Tyridates, in the seventh region of the town.[XV_52] This market was the most important of all, on account of the immense consumption of pork by the Romans.

As soon as the officer of the Roman præfect appeared, the principal butchers gathered round him; he examined the cattle, regulated the sale, and fixed a price on the meat, from which they were not allowed to deviate,[XV_53] and then only was the market open.

BUTCHERS.

Nothing among the Greeks indicates that they had butchers in the heroic ages. The warriors of Homer had no want of them, so great was their skill in cutting up the enormous pieces placed before them.[XV_54] Ulysses acquired a reputation by his dexterity in this art; and it is more than probable that his martial companions also distinguished themselves by this kind of merit.

As soon as luxury had introduced into Greece that effeminate kind of existence which only permits certain men to be engaged in the painful or repulsive details of every-day life, bouthutes, or bullock slaughterers, became indispensable; and of them the meat was bought by the pound—weighed in the scale as now.[XV_55]

The Romans had, at first, butchers who dealt in the same way, and who continued to do so for a long time; but they afterwards employed the following most extravagant method. The buyer shut one of his hands; the seller did the same; each of them suddenly opened the whole or a few of his fingers. If the fingers were even on each side, the seller had the price he pleased; if they were odd, the buyer gave{130} his own price. This was called micare.[XV_56] The mication was suppressed in the year 360, by a decree of Apronianus, which is worth quoting, because it points out in a clear and precise manner the attributions of the Roman butcher, and the system of sale since followed:—

“Reason and experience have proved to us, that it is of public utility to suppress the practice of mication for the sale of cattle, and that it is more advisable to sell by weight than to trust to a game with the fingers. We, therefore, ordain that, after the weight of the animal is ascertained, the head, feet, and tallow, shall belong to the butcher who has killed, prepared, and cut it up: this shall be his wages. The skin, flesh, and entrails, shall belong to the master-butcher who is to retail it. In this manner, the buyer and seller will know the weight of the meat on sale, and each will find this method to his advantage. * * * We will and decree that this ordinance be executed for ever, under pain of death.”[XV_57]

There were at first, in Rome, two corporations or colleges of butchers: one had to take care that the city was always sufficiently supplied with oxen, calves, and sheep:[XV_58] the other was to provide that immense capital with the quantity of hogs necessary;[XV_59] and it would be difficult to form an idea of the number consumed by the Romans. Every day a distribution was made to the people, by Valentinian’s order, of 24,086 pounds and eight ounces of pork; to this amount, already considerable, must be added the truly prodigious daily sale; for the entire population, from the highest to the lowest, were all passionately fond of this kind of food.[XV_60]

The obligations and privileges of these two corporate bodies were nearly the same as those of the bakers.[XV_61] The children could not, under any pretext whatsoever, abandon the trade of their fathers, without

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Pl. 8.

incurring the entire loss of their share in the common benefit allowed by the college. And, be it remembered, this trade was very lucrative, so much so that those who followed it in Rome always enjoyed a degree of opulence which sometimes caused the people to murmur. They elected from among themselves a chief, who judged their differences; he was, however, subordinate to the præfect of Rome.[XV_62]

The members of the two corporations cut, weighed, and retailed the meat; they had under them working butchers, who killed, skinned, and trimmed the animals, and then brought them each one to the shop of his master.[XV_63]

In the sequel, the two colleges met, and formed one. Subsequently, under the reign of Nero, which seemed at the beginning to promise the most brilliant prospect, the principal market for butchers became an edifice equal in magnificence to the Baths, the Circus, and Amphitheatres.[XV_64] Eventually it was found necessary to erect two new buildings, on account of the increasing extent of the city and its inhabitants.[XV_65] The Roman butchers sold both fresh and salt meat, like our own of the present day. It is not necessary to enter into any explanation respecting the first; as to the second, their method of preparation was somewhat different from the way we manage it now:—The animals they intended to salt were kept from drinking anything on the eve of the day they were to be killed. They boned the meat, and sprinkled it lightly with pounded salt; then, after having well dried off all dampness, they again sprinkled some more salt, and placed the pieces, so as not to touch each other, in vessels which had been used for oil or vinegar. They poured sweet wine over, covered the whole with straw, and strewed snow all round, in order to make the meat better and more tender.[XV_66]

When the cook wanted to extract the salt, he first boiled the meat well in milk, and afterwards in soft water.[XV_67]

The flesh of various animals was also well preserved without salt. The only thing necessary was to cover each piece with honey, and to place it in a vessel hermetically closed, hung in a cool place. This operation was usually performed in winter, and succeeded equally well with meat, either cooked or raw.[XV_68]

The following are some of the statutes of the pork butchers in France, during the middle ages:—

No one was to cook pork if it was not “sufficient, or had not good marrow.”{132}

No one could make “sausages of anything but pork.”

No one could sell “black puddings, for it is a perilous viand.”[XV_69]

The French word charcutier (pork butcher) is derived from caro cocta, chair cuite (cooked meat).

The numerous regulations concerning the butchers in France during the 14th century rendered it difficult to carry on the trade:—

Prohibition to buy cattle except in the markets.

Prohibition to buy pigs fed by barbers or oil dealers.

Prohibition to kill cattle not a fortnight old.

Prohibition to kill cattle on the eve of fast days.

Prohibition to sell stale meat.

Prohibition to keep meat more than two days in winter, or more than one day and a-half in summer.

Prohibition to sell meat by lamp light or candle light.

The regulations respecting the cleanliness of the slaughter houses and the shambles were very long and very severe.[XV_70]

A butcher in Paris kept but one single kind of meat, in the 14th century. Pork was sold only at Sainte-Geneviève, mutton at Saint-Marceau, veal at Saint-Germain, and beef at the market of the Châtelet.[XV_71]

Philip Augustus gave statutes to the butchers of Paris in the year 1182. He enjoined them to observe the Sabbath, and permitted them to work on the other days, with the exception of the great festivals.[XV_72]

The regulations imposed upon them in the 17th century are to the effect, that they shall not keep the fat from one week to another; that they shall not mix the different kinds of suet; and, lastly, that they shall not have more than three shops, and shall not allow the blood to run in the streets.[XV_73]

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XVI.

ANIMALS.

THE PIG.

If intelligence, strength, or graceful beauty of form were to decide what rank this numerous class of animals—which has contributed its quota to the triumphs of the culinary art—should occupy on our tables, the pig, with its vile and stupid ugliness, its depraved habits, and its waddling obesity, would be banished for ever from the farm-yard and larder in every civilised nation of the world.

But, in refusing to it brilliant external qualities, Nature, by a wise compensation, has conferred on it others much more solid; and this quadruped, so despised during its life-time, does not fail after its death to conciliate the constant favour of rich and poor—of the man indifferent to the attractions of good cheer, and of the Sybarite, ever attentive to enlarge its domain.

Pliny, the naturalist, places the pig one degree below the scale of beings. Apicius, the cook, gives it a marked preference over all meats which passed through his skilful hands. From this, it will easily be understood that the pig presents itself first in this survey of the animal diet of those nations who have transmitted to us an account of their gastrophagic exertions.

History shows us this animal variously appreciated by different countries. Certain people consecrated it, when living, to their divinities most in vogue; others honoured its image—a symbol, they thought, of the quiet happiness of states; a small number abhorred it, and the greater part found it excellent eating.{134}

The inhabitants of Cyprus abstained from it, in order to offer it to Venus.[XVI_1] The Cretans loaded it with acorns and all the comforts of life, because Jupiter was first suckled by a sow in their island.[XVI_2] The Egyptian priests never allowed a ham to grace their feasts; they fled at the sight of pigs, unclean beings, whose presence alone defiled them,[XVI_3] although respected by the whole nation on account of the services they rendered in turning up the earth, and covering the seeds thrown upon it.[XVI_4]

The law of Moses forbad the Jews to eat this quadruped, or to touch it after its death,[XVI_5] and more than once they exposed themselves to the most frightful torments rather than be defiled by this proscribed viand.[XVI_6]

Tradition, again, strengthened their religious dread, by interdicting the faithful from even pronouncing the name of this animal, from looking at it, or selling it to foreign nations.[XVI_7]

The fear of the frightful malady to which the pig was subject in Palestine was, perhaps, the cause of this prohibition. Has not a Jewish doctor observed, that if ten measures of leprosy were to fall in the world, this unhappy animal would take nine parts for his share.[XVI_8] However, some theologians of that nation believe that the Messiah whom they expect will allow them the use of this now odious food.[XVI_9]

Like the Jews, the Phœnicians[XVI_10] and Indians[XVI_11] did not eat pork. The followers of Islamism also abstained from it, in consequence of a law of the Koran, which Mahomet borrowed from Moses.[XVI_12]

The Greeks and Romans had very different ideas. They knew that their gods showed a particular predilection for those altars on which bacon or swine’s flesh smoked;[XVI_13] they therefore offered this meat in sacrifice to the Earth, the Lares, to Ceres;[XVI_14] and many a time a medal struck at Rome perpetuated the remembrance of this solemnity, in honour of the goddess of harvest.[XVI_15]

The pig, emblem of fecundity with these two nations,[XVI_16] became, on the banners of Italy, a sign of pardon and peace.[XVI_17] Kings and princes immolated two on their wedding-day;[XVI_18] and nations subdued by the Roman arms prostrated themselves before the standard, whose image promised them the clemency of their conquerors.[XVI_19]

The re-establishment of the succulent quadruped would have been complete, if the cynical carelessness of its rather inelegant habits had not caused it to become a symbol of debauchery and profligacy of manners.[XVI_20]

Hitherto the pig has only figured in a point of view purely historical;{135} we have not sought to weaken its faults, nor have we made mention of the qualities attributed to it—for example, that of discovering truffles. Nevertheless, we ought not to lose sight of the fact, that this animal has not passed entirely without renown through the centuries which divide us from the earliest ages of the world. We shall now speak of its flesh, its exquisite flavour, and the place it occupied in feasts: there it reigned with honour; there we must follow it, with all that antiquity has possessed of celebrated men in the science of degustation and good living.

Nature has created the pig for man’s palate; he is good only to be eaten; and life appears to have been given to him merely as a sort of salt to prevent his corrupting.[XVI_21] It is true that he possesses only a vulgar and purely animal substance; but how good is this substance, and how high does it deserve to be placed on account of its delicacy and flavour?[XVI_22]

Such is the praise of which a physician and two philosophers have thought it worthy.

The pig furnishes a strong and somewhat heavy kind of food;[XVI_23] wherefore wrestlers were recommended to eat much of it, and Galen advised it to persons who worked hard, or used violent exercise.[XVI_24]

But it was not necessary to recommend to the Greeks a meat of which they were so fond. Look over the long work of Athenæus—he everywhere extols it, everywhere speaks of it with fresh complacency, and in pompous terms.[XVI_25]

An Athenian, renowned as a man of taste and for the refined elegance of his table, would have thought his reputation lost had he not offered to his guests fat andouilles, sausages, pigs’ feet, and pork cutlets; above all, he was careful not to forget salted and smoked hams—the honour of the banquet, and the delight of the human race.[XVI_26]

The Macedonian, Caranus, invited twenty of his best friends to his wedding, and gave them a feast, of which gastrophagic annals have preserved the remembrance. Each guest received from his munificence a flagon and crown of silver, a crown of gold, and vases of the same precious metal. What shall we say of the dishes displayed at this meeting of learned epicureans? Composed by the art of the most skilful cooks, struck with admiration, they ate and relished, whilst unexpected wonders unceasingly solicited their fatigued, yet not satiated, appetites; when at last appeared an immense silver dish, on which was{136} displayed an entire roasted hog, whose vast sides concealed a multitude of quails and other small birds, tétines de truie, relishing yolks of eggs, oysters, and a host of shell fish, prepared with that scientific regard for gastric energy which considerably increases its power.[XVI_27]

Macedonia possessed a particular species of pig, greatly envied by the rest of Greece. Certain individuals of this giant race acquired enormous proportions, and King Eumenes used to give as much as sixty-four pounds sterling for one of these animals, provided it measured four feet seven inches in height, and as much in length.[XVI_28]

It will be easily understood that the cooks vied with each other, to see who could form unheard-of combinations with the succulent pieces which these enormous pigs furnished. They disguised the taste and form in a thousand different ways, and the most experienced palate was always the dupe of these exquisite deceptions. Thus Titius Quintus, a clever amateur, being enraptured with the number and astonishing variety of dishes which his host caused to be served, at Chalies in Etolia, what was his surprise when the amiable Amphytrion smilingly told him that he had eaten nothing but pork![XVI_29]

Rome, be it observed, knew how to follow the example of Greece; and, in the hands of its skilful cooks, the flesh of this heavy animal was often transformed into delicate fish, ducks, turtle doves, or capons.[XVI_30]

But the masterpiece of these great artists—the ne plus ultra of their fertile imagination—was the hog à la Troyenne, so named because from the depth of its inside issued battalions of thrushes, myriads of ortolans, and fig-peckers (becaficoes)—an ingenious image of those armed cohorts inclosed in the horse of Troy.[XVI_31] Everywhere the sumptuous dish is cited, but nothing is said of the manner in which it was prepared. The curious will perhaps be thankful to find that this omission is here repaired:—

The animal is artistically bled under the shoulder. When all the blood has flowed, the intestines are drawn out by the throat, and washed for a long time with wine, taking care to pass it through them. The pig is then hung up by the feet, and washed also with wine. An excellent gravy must be prepared beforehand, with meat hashed small and well peppered, with which you stuff the intestines, and then force them back into their place by the throat. Pour in at the same time a great quantity of gravy, and fill the animal with small game. Half of the pig is afterwards covered with a thick paste of barley meal, wine, and oil. It is then put into a portable oven, on a small metal{137} table, where it is roasted by a slow fire. When the skin has assumed a fine colour it is withdrawn, and boiled on the other side; the paste covering is then entirely removed, and the pig à la Troyenne may be served.[XVI_32] The Romans reared a great number of these animals, and also procured many from foreign countries, especially from Arcadia, which produced some of extraordinary size. Varro relates that in this part of the Peloponnesus he was shown a pig so fat that it was impossible for the animal to make the least movement; and that a mouse had settled on its back with her young family, softly ensconced in the fat, where they fed at the expense of the careless animal.[XVI_33]

Rome adopted, with a kind of gastronomic rage, the preparations and ragoûts celebrated in Greece.[XVI_34] The Trojan pig never failed to appear on tables renowned for their luxury;[XVI_35] and sucking pigs were eaten in such profusion, that the censors were obliged to interdict their use. Alexander Severus renewed this prohibition.[XVI_36] The large pigs stuffed with game (an expensive delicacy of patrician tables) also called forth new sumptuary laws,[XVI_37] which only provoked disdain, and which fashion soon rendered obsolete.

We hardly dare mention a strange dish, in great request among the rich and luxurious, who alone could procure it. The first preparation consisted in stifling the young before they were littered.[XVI_38] Thank Heaven, this culinary atrocity could not survive an epoch without parallel, perhaps, in the history of human follies, by we know not what refinement of incredible gluttony, of frightful depravity, and atrocious cruelty, which, together, prepared the downfall of the Roman colossus.

Besides this disgusting dish, much was thought at Rome, as well as at Athens, of pig’s head, spare-rib, hams, and bacon. Seven other parts occupied the second rank—these were the ears, feet, foreloin, fillet, cheek, intestines, and blood.[XVI_39]

Westphalia supplied sumptuous tables with much-esteemed hams; but those of Sardinia, Catalonia, and Cantabria were, nevertheless, preferred.[XVI_40] They were sometimes served at the beginning of a repast, in order to excite the appetite; and also often at the close, in order to re-animate its extinguished ardour, and provoke new libations.[XVI_41] One of the most ancient geoponics teaches how to prepare, salt, and smoke hams;[XVI_42] for the inhabitants of the country, and the lower classes in the cities, showed a singular taste for this delicate meat, which the Gauls{138} (great amateurs of pork)[XVI_43] sent them at a low price, with an enormous quantity of pickled pork, andouillettes, and sausages.[XVI_44]

This last preparation, very celebrated in Lucania,[XVI_45] served as a means of livelihood to a great number of Roman women, who also employed themselves in making excellent black puddings, in imitation of those eaten in Greece.[XVI_46]

Bacon was then of great utility, as in the present day, though oil superseded it in the concoction of a host of dishes. Bacon for a long time served almost as the exclusive food of the Romans,[XVI_47] before their unruly luxury had given it up to the soldiers and proletarians.[XVI_48] It was also found in all public houses,[XVI_49] where the populace habitually gorged themselves with pork, vegetables,[XVI_50] and hot water.[XVI_51]

The ancients salted the pig, in order to preserve it; but Apicius taught them a very simple process for the use of epicures, which advantageously replaced common brine. You take middling-sized pieces of pork, cover them entirely with a sort of paste, composed of salt, vinegar, and honey, and place them in vessels which you close carefully.[XVI_52]

We will now indicate some of the dishes most in vogue prepared with pork—a meat so much esteemed by the Greeks and Romans, and in which they believed themselves to have discovered fifty different flavours,[XVI_53] or fifty parts, each possessing a distinct taste from the other.

Apician Pork.—Roast a fine young sucking pig; and whilst a slow fire gently embellishes it with a golden colour, pound, with pepper and alisander, some coriander seed, mint, and rue. Then pour over it some wine, honey, garum, or gravy; mix with care these different ingredients, and pour this seasoning on your roast, as soon as you have taken it from the spit or oven.[XVI_54]

Macedonian Pork.—Choose, among a number of large and fine sucking pigs, the one which appears to you the most worthy of the culinary sacrifice. Draw it by the upper part; clean it well, and fill it with chicken sausages chopped small, the flesh of thrushes, ortolans, and pork; add Lucanian sausages, dates without stones, raisins, and afterwards, mallow, beet, leeks, parsley, coriander, whole pepper, and pine nuts; add eggs, and a good quantity of well-peppered gravy. Bake it, having previously scored the back of the animal, so that it may be basted with its own gravy. When a delightful odour shall then warn you that it is done, cover it, before serving, with a relishing mixture{139} of pepper, rue, garum, or gravy, to which you must add wine, honey, and a little oil.[XVI_55]

Stuffed Sucking Pig.—The intestines are drawn out by the throat, and an opening made under the skin. You then fill with stuffing a bladder, to the neck of which is securely fixed a long and narrow tube, which will convey to every part the somewhat liquid substance which you will express from the bladder. The opening is then closed with parchment sewn to the skin. It is hardly necessary to say that this operation should be performed in several places.

Let us now see to the inside. Crush pepper, alisander, wild marjoram, and a little benzoin root; mix with this, garum or gravy, cooked brains, raw eggs, flour, and pork gravy; the whole must be boiled on a slow fire, and the pig filled with it, also with little birds, pine nuts, whole pepper, and garum. It now only remains to place it in the oven, watch over the cooking, baste it with gravy, and serve.[XVI_56]

Aristoxenic Ham.—Take a fresh ham, salt it, and smoke it two days; then rub it with a mixture of oil and vinegar, and hang it to the ceiling.[XVI_57] Some days after you must boil it with a great quantity of figs and three bay leaves; then take off the skin, make incisions in the flesh, and fill them with honey. Finally, prepare a paste of flour and oil, with which cover the ham; put it into the oven, and withdraw it only when this crust is completely done.[XVI_58]

Lucullian Ham.—Cook a ham, newly salted, with two pounds of barley and twenty-five figs. Then bone it, and slightly scarify the skin with an iron blade; put it into the oven, taking care to cover it with a little honey. When it begins to colour, put into a saucepan some cooked wine, pepper, wine and a bunch of rue, the half of which is then poured on the ham. The other half of this seasoning serves to humect the quenelles which you have taken beforehand from the ham previous to baking; these must be well soaked with gravy, and then, if you have any remaining, pour it over the ham, which you serve surrounded by the quenelles.[XVI_59]

Ventre de Truie à l’Athénienne.—It is boiled with sweet herbs and served with a seasoning of cummin seed, vinegar, and silphium.[XVI_60]

Ventre de Truie à la Romaine.—It is cooked in the manner before described, and seasoned with a sauce composed of pepper, parsley seed, dried mint, benzoin-root, honey, vinegar, and garum.[XVI_61]

Fillet of Pork à la Bœotienne.—When it has been covered with honey{140} and vinegar, and baked in the oven, it is eaten with a seasoning of pepper, benzoin, and garum.[XVI_62]

Tétines de Truie à la Salienne.—Cook them in water; make several incisions; cover them with salt, and place them in the oven, or on the gridiron; prepare a seasoning of pepper and alisander, with garum, wine, and cooked wine; thicken with fine floor; put in the tétines, and serve.[XVI_63]

Tétines à la Flamine.—Mix the flesh of a sea-hedge hog with carrots and pepper; introduce the mixture into the tétines; sew up the opening; cook them in the oven, or on the gridiron, and eat them with brine and mustard.[XVI_64]

Olympian Pig’s Liver.—Take the liver of a pig that has been fed only on figs, bake it, and serve with a seasoning of œnogarum, pepper, thyme, alisander, garum, oil, and a little vinegar.[XVI_65]

Capitolian Pig’s Liver.—Make incisions in the liver of a pig that has been fed on nothing but figs, and put it into garum with pepper, alisander, and two bay leaves; then wrap it in the caul, cook it on the gridiron, and serve.[XVI_66]

Campanian Bacon.—It is cooked by just covering it with water and a good quantity of dill, to which a little oil and salt are afterwards added.[XVI_67]

Quenelles of Pig’s Liver and Brains.—Roast a pig’s liver, and take off all the fibrous parts; sprinkle it with pounded pepper and rue; add some gravy; stir the whole well; then cut it into small slices, each of which you must cover with a bay leaf; hang them over the smoke as long as you think necessary.

When you wish to eat them, roast them afresh; then put them into a mortar, with pepper, alisander, and wild marjoram; stir them, add gravy and dressed sucking pigs’ brains, pounded with care; then add five eggs, and dissolve them in such a manner as to make the whole thoroughly compact; pour over it some gravy, and cook in a saucepan; when cooked, throw it on a very clean table, and out this pulp into small square pieces, which mix in the mortar with pepper, alisander, and wild marjoram. When you have gently stirred all this, it must again be put into a saucepan, and boiled over a slow fire. At the moment of ebullition, pour it on a plate, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVI_68]

Lucanian Sausages.—Pound in a mortar some pepper, cummin, and{141} winter savory with bay leaves, and moisten with gravy and garum; then add to this mixture some pork, chopped small, more garum and pepper, and a good quantity of bacon, with a few pine nuts. When these various ingredients are well incorporated one with another, you stuff the prepared intestines, and hang up the sausages.[XVI_69]

Imperial Sausages.—Cut some pork into very small pieces, which most be pounded with the finest bread, well-soaked in wine; then pound some pepper and decorticated myrtle leaves, and add some gravy. Make some small sausages, and put inside some fir-nuts. When these sausages are finished, you must cook them over a slow fire, with sweet wine, previously reduced to a-third.[XVI_70]

The following is the seasoning you must add to it:—

Bone some small chickens, and put them into a saucepan, with leeks, dill, and salt. When this is cooked, add pepper and smallage seed; then crumble some sesame bread, on which pour some very thick gravy, mix the whole well, and serve with the sausages.[XVI_71]

The Gauls had very considerable herds of swine, which they fed exclusively upon acorns. The inhabitants of the towns reared them in their houses. As these animals went frequently out, they caused some obstruction, and we know that Philip, grandson of Louis-le-Gros, lost his life in Paris, in consequence of a furious pig having run between the legs of his horse, and caused him to fall. This accident took place on the 1st October, 1181. The 3rd of the same month a proclamation was issued, forbidding all persons to let their swine ramble through the streets of Paris. A short time after, those which belonged to the Abbaye Saint-Antoine were privileged; the abbess and the nuns having represented that it would be a want of courtesy to their patron saint not to exempt his hogs from the general rule.[XVI_72]

A new proclamation of the 20th January, 1850, interdicted with still greater severity the rearing of swine in the town of Paris, under penalty of a fine of 60 sous (two shillings and four-pence); and the police were authorized to kill them wheresoever they might be found, to take the head as a perquisite for themselves, and to deposit the carcase at the Hôtel-Dieu (the name of an hospital), charging that establishment with the cost incurred for its conveyance.[XVI_73]

There was nothing more delicate in the 16th century, nothing more odoriferous, than the flesh of young pigs fed on parsnips,[XVI_73A] and roasted, with a stuffing of fine herbs.[XVI_73B]

{142}

THE OX.

A profound sentiment of gratitude has been often the cause of rendering to the ox extraordinary honours, which no animal, perhaps, ever shared with him. The Egyptians considered this quadruped as the emblem of agriculture, and of all that serves to support existence;[XVI_74] and incense smoked on its altars at Memphis and Heliopolis.[XVI_75]

The Phœnicians religiously abstained from its flesh, and the Phrygians punished with death whosoever dared to slay the labouring ox.[XVI_76]

In Greece, during the heroic ages, an ox was the reward adjudged to the conquering wrestlers and pugilists; a horse was the prize of racing or the quoits.[XVI_77]

At a later period the Athenians decreed that their coins should bear the image of this useful quadruped;[XVI_78] and though they then offered it to their gods, the ceremonies even of the sacrifice testified the repugnance felt at shedding its blood.

The sacrificer fled with the greatest speed after he had struck it; he was followed, and, to avoid being arrested, he threw away the axe he had used, and accused it of causing the death of the innocent ox. The axe was then seized and tried; some one defended it, and alleged that it was less guilty than the grinder who had sharpened the blade. The latter cast the odium of the crime on the grinding stone, so that the trial was never ended, and the pretended offence remained unpunished.[XVI_79]

For a long time the greater part of the ancients considered it a sin to eat the flesh of the ox, the companion of the agriculturist, whose patient vigour hollows the furrow which is to be the means of his support.[XVI_80] But the bad example of Proserpine, who prepared one for Hercules,[XVI_81] caused these scruples, one by one, to be hushed, the solemn prohibition of the legislator of Athens forgotten;[XVI_82] and, in spite of the obstinate resistance of the Pythagorians and the disciples of Empedocles, every one declared in favour of the doctrines of Zeno and Epicurus.

Moreover, it is certain that the heroes of Homer were not so scrupulous: Menelaus offered roast-beef to Telemachus; Agamemnon also presented some to the wise Nestor; and an ox, roasted whole, frequently appeased the robust appetite of the illustrious chiefs of Greece.[XVI_83]

{143}

If we go back to centuries still more remote, and of which a venerable historian has preserved us an account, we find herds of oxen were possessed by the great patriarchal families.[X][XVI_84] Abraham cooked a calf and served it to the three angels, in the valley of Mamre;[XVI_85] and the flesh of this animal, whether ox or heifer, was evidently much in use in the primitive ages, since no particular proscription exempts them from those beings having “life and motion,”[XVI_86] and which are to serve us as food.[XVI_87] As to Moses, far from interdicting it to the Israelites, he places the ox in the first rank of pure animals,[XVI_88] whose flesh was allowed them.

The oracle of ancient medicine, Hippocrates, praises the flesh of the ox, in which he recognises the most nutritious qualities, but nevertheless he believes it to be heavy and indigestible.[XVI_89]

Of what material, then, must have been the stomach of Theagenes, of Thasos—he, who devoured a whole bull in one day.[XVI_90]

To be sure, the same exploit is attributed to Milo of Crotona, whose ordinary meal consisted of eighteen pounds of meat, as much bread, and fifteen pints of wine.[XVI_91] These formidable polyphagists could, without much expense, indulge their fabulous appetites; for, in the time of Demosthenes, 354 B.C., an ox of the first quality cost only eighty drachmas, or about two pounds, eleven shillings, and eightpence.[XVI_92]

Magiric writers have left us very few details on the different methods of cooking the flesh of the ox or calf. It appears to have been generally roasted,[XVI_93] in which case it was eaten alone; but sometimes it was eaten boiled, with one of the sauces to be hereafter mentioned.

These animals were fed with particular care, in order to render them more worthy of the luxurious tables for which certain choice pieces were destined. The manner of fattening oxen has already been described: it is only necessary to add, that calves, which were to be slaughtered, received no other food than their mothers’ milk; and that, frequently, they were not killed before the expiration of a twelvemonth.[XVI_94]

Double tripe was reputed as an excellent food. The Asiatics,{144} Greeks, and Romans were particularly fond of it. It was served at a sumptuous repast prepared for Achilles; and Homer observes, that this dish was always honourably received at the banquets of heroes.[XVI_95]

Athenæus, describing a feast of the most exquisite elegance, names double tripe among a host of dishes he enumerates;[XVI_96] he also says, speaking of a state dinner at which Philoxenus, one of the generals of Alexander the Great, was a guest, that first of all there appeared large basins containing the intestines of animals, disposed with art around their heads:[XVI_97] and it is thus, he adds, that even the gods gave themselves up, in the society of their friends, to the pleasures of good cheer.[XVI_98] To be brief, this artless chronicler of antique gastrophagy, tells us that after the sacrilegious undertaking of the Titans, the human race enjoyed such perfect happiness, that men caused to be served at every one of their repasts delicious double tripe and savoury intestines.[XVI_99]

This touching example of felicity and innocent gluttony found few imitators at Rome among that class of voluptuous men who entertained, at enormous expense, tasters whose discriminating palates could tell whether a fish had been caught at the mouth of the Tiber, or further off; whether a goose’s liver had been fattened with fresh figs, or only on dried ones.[XVI_100] For them tripe could have very little attraction, but this rather plebeian dish appeared with honour on modest tables, and proletarian epicures sought for it with eagerness.[XVI_101]

Beef à l’Ibérienne.—Well boil an excellent piece of beef, and serve it with the following sauce. Grind and mix pepper, alisander, parsley seed, wild marjoram, and dried onions; moisten with sun-made raisin wine; stir, and add honey, vinegar, wine, garum, oil, and sweet wine.[XVI_102]

Stewed Beef à la Sarmate.—Carefully choose a piece of beef, which stew slowly for a long time with leeks, cut small, onions, or beans. When it is well cooked, pour over a mixture of pepper, benzoin, and a little oil.[XVI_103]

Dish of Veal à la Syracusaine.—Cook a piece of veal, on a slow fire, with pepper, alisander, carrots, and parsley seed, bruised together in a mortar; then add honey, vinegar, garum, and oil; thicken the whole with fine flour, and serve.[XVI_104]

Noix de Veau à la Tarantaise.—Take a noix de veau, cook it in a saucepan with pepper, alisander, and fenugreek seed; add, later, some wild marjoram, pine nuts, and dates; then moisten with a mixture of{145} honey, vinegar, garum, mustard, and oil. When the cookery of these various substances shall have made an homogeneous whole, serve.[XVI_105]

Cisalpine Preserve.—Mince some beef in very small pieces; do the same with a little bacon; add pine nuts, pounded with dates; pour on the whole a mixture of vinegar, garum, mustard, and oil; stir well, and throw on this pulp a powder of strong odoriferous herbs. Stir it a long time, let it rest, compress it strongly in a prepared intestine, close the opening, and put a string round to tighten it still more. This preserve cannot turn bad.[XVI_106]

The ox was so precious among the Romans, that mention is made of a certain citizen accused before the people and condemned, because he had killed one of his oxen to satisfy the fancy of a young libertine, who told him he bad never eaten any tripe. He was banished, as if he had killed his farmer.[XVI_107]

The Brahmin women think to obtain abundance of milk and butter by invoking one particular cow,—the darling cow of the king of heaven; the type, mother, and patroness of all cows. The entire species are treated with the greatest deference; they have lavished upon them every expression of gratitude, and one day of each year is set apart as a solemn festival consecrated to their worship.[XVI_108]

Some centuries ago the large pieces of meat were boiled first, and then roasted. Roasted meat was always served with sauce. Animals roasted whole were generally filled with an aromatic stuffing. Sage was the common seasoning for geese, and sucking-pigs were stuffed with chesnuts. Some minutes before these were taken from the spit, they were covered with bread crumbs; and appeared on the table enveloped in a crust composed of bread, sugar, orange juice, and rose water.[XVI_109]

Bœuf Gras.—There is a very old custom in the whole of France, and which consists in leading throughout the streets, in the provincial towns, on Shrove Tuesday, a fatted ox, ornamented with flowers and ribbons. This ceremony is considered as a commemorative emblem of the fecundity of the earth. In Paris, the ox chosen for the same purpose has generally obtained beforehand the prize awarded by the Agricultural Society. The horns of the animal are gilded; he is afterwards decorated in a sumptuous manner, and led through the principal thoroughfares of that city, on Shrove Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, to the Palace of the Tuileries, the ministerial residences, the Hôtel-de-Ville, and the foreign embassies. Troops of butchers, dressed in appropriate fancy costumes,{146} both on horseback and on foot, are preceded by bands of music; and the heathen divinities, drawn by eight horses in a richly gilt triumphal car, form one of the most splendid and grotesque pageants of modern times.

THE LAMB.

Formerly, sworn examiners of the clouds, skilful in discovering the storms they concealed, announced to the inhabitants of the country the hail by which their crops were threatened, and every one immediately offered a sacrifice to the inimical cloud, in order that it might carry ruin and desolation elsewhere. The most devout sacrificed a lamb; the lukewarm worshippers a fowl; some even contented themselves with pricking their finger with a pin, and throwing towards heaven the drops of blood which came out. The cloud, it is said, satisfied with these pious offerings, soon disappeared never to return.[XVI_110]

The lamb, an oblation pure and agreeable in the sight of the gods, reconciled the earth with Olympus. In Egypt, the inhabitants of Sais and Thebes offered it to their divinities.[XVI_111] Minerva and Juno also were pleased to see its flesh smoking on the altars which Greece and Italy raised to them.[XVI_112]

These practices, no doubt, were an obscure imitation of the religious rites which Moses prescribed to his people,[XVI_113] and which heathen nations adopted in their turn, one from the other.[XVI_114]

The Hebrew law forbad the killing of the Paschal lamb before it was weaned, and also the cooking of it in its mother’s milk. It was to be eaten roasted, with unleavened bread, lettuces, mustard, or bitter herbs: whatever might remain was to be burnt with fire. It was not to be boiled, nor a bone of it broken. It must be chosen of that year, a male, and without fault or blemish.[XVI_115]

Many passages of the sacred writings allow us to appreciate the pastoral riches of the first nations of the East; and an idea may be formed of the number of their flocks, when we are told that Jacob gave the children of Hamor a hundred sheep for the price of a field;[XVI_116] and that the King of Israel received a hundred thousand every year from the{147} King of Moab, his tributary, and a like number of rams, covered with their fleece.[XVI_117]

The delicate flesh of the lamb was the ornament of the tables of the voluptuous inhabitants of Sion and Samaria. The prophet Amos reproaches them with this luxury, and threatens them with the Divine anger[XVI_118] on that account. The Greeks carried their love for this meat to such a height, that the magistrates of Athens were obliged to forbid the eating of lamb which had not been shorn.[XVI_119] This restriction did not prevent the epicures of Attica from buying one of these animals every day, which cost them ten drachmas[XVI_120] (6s. 5d.), and the head of which, prepared with art, heightened the beauty of the first course.[XVI_121] Rome and Italy imitated Greece,[XVI_122] and the flocks of the fertile Campania hardly sufficed for the exigencies of the capital of the world, especially towards the end of autumn, a period at which lambs afforded, according to the Romans, a more highly flavoured and wholesome meat than in the spring.[XVI_123]

Lamb’s Head à la Quirinale.—The head is boiled with pepper, garum, and beans, and served with a sauce consisting of garum, pepper, benzoin, and cummin, to which is added a little oil, and small pieces of bread, soaked in sweet wine.[XVI_124]

Quarter of Lamb à l’Esquilin.—Place a quarter of lamb in a saucepan with onions and coriander, chopped very small. Then pound pepper, alisander, and cummin; put to it some oil, wine, and garum. Pour the whole on the lamb; cook well, and thicken with fine flour.[XVI_125]

Palatine Broil.—Leave a piece of lamb during some time in a mixture of pepper, benzoin, garum, and oil. After having cooked it in oil and garum, put it a little while on the gridiron, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVI_126]

Roast Lamb à la Phrygienne.—Bake a lamb and serve it with the following sauce:—Mix well half an ounce of pepper, six scruples of cinnamon, a little ginger, half a pint of excellent garum, and the quarter of that quantity of oil.[XVI_127]

Lamb à la Trimalcion.—Draw a lamb at the neck; preserve the intestines entire, and wash them with the greatest care; fill them with force meat and garum; put them back again by the same way; sew up the opening, and place the lamb in the oven. Then mix gravy and milk; add pounded pepper, garum, wine, sweet wine, and oil; let it{148} boil only an instant; thicken with fine floor, and serve it with the lamb.[XVI_128]

Blount informs us of a very ancient and rather strange custom. He says:—

“At Kidlington, in Oxfordshire, the custom is, that on Monday after Whitson week, there is a fat, live lamb provided, and the maids of the town, having their thumbs tied behind them, run after it, and she that with her mouth takes and holds the lamb is declared Lady of the Lamb, which, being dressed, with the skin hanging on, is carried on a long pole before the Lady and her companions to the Green, attended with music, and a morisco dance of men and another of women, when the rest of the day is spent in dancing, mirth, and merry glee. The next day the lamb is part baked, boiled, and roast, for the Lady’s feast, where she sits majestically at the upper end of the table, and her companions with her, with music and other attendants, which ends the solemnity.”[XVI_129]

THE KID.

The kid was one of the most delicate dishes of the Hebrews: Rebecca prepared some for Isaac, in order to dispose him to give his blessing to Jacob.[XVI_130] Moses ordered that, for the Feast of Passover, a lamb or a kid should be slain.[XVI_131] Samson carried a kid to his young wife when he wished to be reconciled to her.[XVI_132] The brother of the prodigal son complains to his father that he has never given him a kid to make merry with his friends.[XVI_133]

The Egyptians, who represented their god Pan with the face and legs of a goat, abstained religiously from killing a kid or eating its flesh.[XVI_134] Their veneration for this animal went so far, in some countries, that goat-keepers appeared in their eyes invested with an august and sacred character.[XVI_135] The Greeks did not judge it convenient to adopt these strange ideas, although on other points their theology was sufficiently ridiculous. The kid was considered one of the most dainty dishes in state banquets; it was served whole, on a silver basin, to each of the guests at the wedding of the Macedonian, Caranus.[XVI_136]

The kids of Attica were especially praised, and a considerable trade{149} was made of them in Athens.[XVI_137] Certain connoisseurs, whose authority had weight, preferred, however, those produced in the Island of Mælos.[XVI_138] A great many also came from Sicily: they were in less repute, and sold at a low price.[XVI_139]

At Rome, the kid of Italy was much thought of; the most delicate were fattened at Tivoli,[XVI_140] and in different localities of the Roman Campagna.[XVI_141]

Kid à la Trans-Tibérienne.—The kid is to be cooked slowly, with a little milk, four ounces of honey, an ounce of pepper, a little salt and benzoin. After some time, add eight dates crushed in a mortar, a little gravy, garum, a small quantity of excellent wine; the whole is thickened with fine flour.[XVI_142]

Roast Kid à la Janiculum.—Empty and carefully clean a kid; rub it well with oil and pepper; sprinkle with salt and a large quantity of coriander seed; place it in the oven, and bake slowly.[XVI_143]

Kid à la Tarpéienne.—Empty the kid; stuff it, and sew it up; then entirely cover it with a thick mixture of pepper, rue, winter savory, onions, a small quantity of thyme, and some garum; then place it in an oven, or on a dish, covered with oil. When the kid is cooked, you surround it with a sauce of winter savory, onions, rue, dates, mixed with wine, oil, and cooked wine; sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVI_144]

Kid à la Tivoli.—Bake the kid; then pound some pepper, rue, onions, winter savory, and Damascus plums (without their stones), a little benzoin, which you must dilute in wine, garum, and oil; throw this sauce on the kid as you withdraw it from the oven, and, at the moment of serving, cover it with boiling wine.[XVI_145]

Kid à la Mélissienne.—Draw the kid at the neck, and clean the intestines; then pound some pepper, alisander, benzoin root, two bay leaves, and a little Spanish camomile; add two or three brains; mix them well together; then add some garum and a little salt; afterwards, a small quantity of milk and honey. Fill the intestines with this stuffing, and place them round the kid, which you then put into a large basin on the fire. When half-cooked, you must add a mixture of garum, oil, and wine. Then bruise some pepper and alisander seed, which moisten with the gravy of the kid, and a little cooked wine; pour it into the basin, and the moment before serving thicken with fine flour.[XVI_146]

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THE ASS.

The ass was an impure animal, according to the law of Moses, whose flesh was forbidden because it did not ruminate.[XVI_147] However, at the siege of Samaria, the Jews were compelled to eat it for want of other food. The famine was such, that the head of an ass was sold for eighty pieces of silver.[XVI_148]

The Roman peasants thought the flesh of the young ass had a very agreeable taste,[XVI_149] and regaled themselves with it at their rustic festivals. The celebrated Mecænas one day tasted of this dish at the house of one of his free slaves; he spoke of it with much praise, caused it to be served on his own table, and even succeeded in introducing it on those of the great and rich, who gave up the onager, or wild ass, which they had hitherto preferred, to humour this illustrious favourite. But this new gastronomic conquest had only a short vogue; and was forgotten after the death of Mecænas.[XVI_150] Galen tells us that the cooks of Alexandria thought much of the ass,[XVI_151] whose flesh, he says, much resembles that of the stag.[XVI_152] Still, this great physician disapproves of the use of this food, which he considers unsuited to mankind.[XVI_153]

It is asserted, even at the present day, that the flesh of the young ass is a pretty good dish; we have heard, but we hardly can repeat it, that much is consumed in the guinguettes round Paris, where the artless customers are far from thinking that anything else but veal can be served to them.

The modern restaurateurs of the Barrières of Paris, have, perhaps, read the biography of Mecænas, and endeavour to render popular the dish so honoured by the celebrated favourite. Who can blame them?

THE DOG.

We must beg pardon of the reader for informing him that the dog presented a very relishing dish to many nations advanced in culinary science. To them, one of these animals, young, plump, and delicately prepared, appeared excellent food.[XVI_154]

{151}

The Greeks, that people so charming by their seductive folly, their love of the arts, their poetic civilization, and the intelligent spirit of research presiding over their dishes—the Greeks (we grieve to say it) ate dogs, and even dared to think them good: the grave Hippocrates himself—the most wise, the least gluttonous, and therefore the most impartial of their physicians—was convinced that this quadruped furnished a wholesome and, at the same time, a light food.[XVI_155]

As to the Romans, they also liked it,[XVI_156] and no doubt prepared it in the same manner as the hare, which they thought it resembled in taste.[XVI_157]

However, it is but right to add, that this dish, which we will not even hear mentioned, was never favourably received by the fashionable portion of Roman society, and that the legislators of ancient gastrophagy even repulsed it with disdain.

There is every reason to believe that the people regaled themselves with a roast or boiled dog, especially once a year, at the period when they celebrated the deliverance of the Capitol from the siege of the Gauls. It is known that, at this solemnity, a goose, laid on a soft cushion, was carried in triumph, followed by an unhappy dog nailed to a cross,[XVI_158] whose loud cries greatly amused the populace. In this manner they commemorated the signal service rendered by one animal, and the fatal negligence of the other. The Gauls scaled the Capitol while the dogs slept, and Rome had been lost if the deafening cries of the geese had not given an alarm to the garrison, who, it must be allowed, should have kept better watch.

The quadrupeds last mentioned are the only domestic animals of the kind used as food by the ancients. The chase afforded them several others, which we shall mention, after having just glanced at the poultry—one of the most interesting divisions in natural history for the serious and reflective appreciator of gastronomic productions.{152}

XVII.

POULTRY.

The air is less dense than the earth, said Aristotle; poultry ought, then, to stand higher in estimation than quadrupeds.[XVII_1] It is, adds Galen, the lightest and best of all aliments.[XVII_2] After this, would any one dare to accuse of sensuality those who, wisely following the diet recommended by these great men, prefer a fat capon or delicate fowl, to heavy, common butcher’s meat?

Our masters, the ancients, have left us fine examples on this head. In vain did impertinent sumptuary laws, enemies of progress, strive to repress the luxury of the farm-yards. These precautions on behalf of abstinence against the magiric genius were unceasingly met by a resistance, as energetic as it was truly Roman. Fannius, Archius, Cornelius, could make martyrs; but let us say, with pride, good cheer never had cause to envy them deserters and apostates. One of these tyrannical decrees was just published; a tribune of the people, a man of heart and taste, undertook to have it repealed. He courageously mounted the rostrum, and cried, with an inspired voice: “Romans! you are treated like slaves. By the gods! what can be more strange than the new law? They would force you to sobriety, whether you will or no! They would impose temperance on you! Ah! renounce this pretended liberty, of which you are so jealous, since you are no longer allowed to ruin yourselves, each one according to his fancy, or die of indigestion if you please.”

This discourse was received as it deserved to be, and unanimous applause proved to the orator that he was addressing men capable of understanding him. But, alas! this excellent tribune had a dangerous{153} enemy: the censor, Lucius Flaccus, a sort of fanatic teetotaller and carniphobis of that time, had sufficient credit to cause this worthy citizen to be driven from the senate. But Rome revenged him by devouring more poultry than ever.[XVII_3]

In the early ages of the Church, poultry in general was regarded as a food for fast days; and this opinion was founded on the text in Genesis, where it is said that birds and fishes were created on the fifth day, whereas quadrupeds were created on the sixth.[XVII_4]

St. Benedict, in his rule, does not formally forbid the monks any other flesh than that of quadrupeds; and St. Columbanus, in his, permits the monks the flesh of poultry, in default of fish. The Greek monks ate it down to the 10th century.

THE COCK.

An object of divine worship in Syria,[XVII_5] the cock was considered by almost every nation as the emblem of vigilance and courage.[XVII_6] Thus, heathen antiquity consecrated it to the god of battles.[XVII_7] Themistocles, marching with his army against Xerxes, King of Persia, met with some cocks fighting furiously; he made his troops halt, that they might observe them, and he then addressed a spirited discourse to them on the subject. He conquered, and on his return to Athens, desired that every year a cock-fight should commemorate his victory.[XVII_8] These cruel games soon spread throughout Greece, and feathered champions were reared with great care, and obtained at a high price from Rhodes, Bœotia, Mela, and Chalcis.[XVII_9]

Italy also wished to enjoy this barbarous pastime. At Pergamus, any spectator might throw a cock into the arena, and a prize was awarded to the lucky possessor of the bird who remained master of the field of battle.[XVII_10]

This warlike bird has never enjoyed a high culinary reputation; nevertheless, it was eaten when old, that is to say, at that period of its life when its flesh, hard, fibrous, and tough, possesses neither juice nor flavour—then this wretched food was left to those among the common people who joyously feasted in the drinking-shops of Rome. They,{154} however, always avoided making fricassees of white cocks, because they were consecrated to the month, and proclaimed the hours.[XVII_11]

THE CAPON.

The cock being banished from the table of all respectable people, the necessity of dressing hens became evident, for it was necessary to live. Now, you are aware that there are two sorts of hens; one sort consumptive looking and tough, the other tender, plump, and before which an epicure banishes every other thought, and sighs with pleasure. These last were preferred, and, in order to render them more worthy of the voluptuous epicures for whom they were intended, they learned from the inhabitants of the island of Cos the art of fattening them in dark and closed places, with certain wonderful pastes, which increased their delicacy and tempting whiteness.[XVII_12]

This ingenious invention belonged to Greece and Asia. Rome possessed herself of it, and even improved it; but soon the constant tyrant of the kitchen, the Consul, C. Fannius, who thought bad what others thought good, and who pretended that in consequence of the immense consumption made of them, the result would be that not a living hen would be left in the empire, ordered that for the future the Romans should dispense with fattening and eating this delicious winged animal.[XVII_13]

Fortunately, the law said nothing about young cocks; this silence saved Roman gastronomy, and the capon was invented.[XVII_14] It is not necessary to relate with what transports of delight this new creation was greeted; it will be easily understood. Rome was moved; the famous Greek cooks, who consecrated their science to her, were on tip-toe. Everywhere, from mouth to mouth, spread the name of the skilful enchanter, who could in such a manner metamorphose the clarion of the farm yard. Fannius, himself, it is said, wished to be assured of the truth of the prodigy: he was served with a roast capon, and the praises he bestowed on it were assuredly the triumph of the bird, of epicures, and of art.[XVII_15] From this remarkable epoch, nearly all chickens underwent the ingenious transformation which rendered them so welcome to all Lucullian tables;[XVII_16] and it caused such a destruction of birds, that{155} the consul repented, but too late, that he had only named hens in his sumptuary law.

Capon à la Déliaque.—Draw completely a fat capon; then bruise pepper, alisander, and ginger, which you must mix with sausage-meat and fine flour, and a pig’s brains cooked; add some eggs, then some garum, a little oil, whole pepper, and several pine nuts. Make a stuffing of this mixture, and put it into the capon, which afterwards roast before a slow fire.[XVII_17]

THE HEN.

The cackling of hens infallibly announced, among the ancients, some dreadful calamity to the person who had the misfortune to hear it.[XVII_18] This fatal omen must have rendered a great number of people unfortunate; for whether she lays eggs, or conducts her young family, a hen generally cackles.

They therefore sought to diminish the number of these birds of ill-omen; they fattened them for eating, and they did right, since, according to learned physicians, the flesh of these birds is good for weakly persons, as well as those who are convalescent.[XVII_19] Healthy individuals also find this food suit them perfectly. In Greece there would have been something wanting at a feast, if fat hens had not been served. They embellished the celebrated wedding repast of Caranus; and Athenæus often speaks of them when describing a grand banquet.[XVII_20]

At Rome, the art of fattening them became a serious occupation, which was long studied, and had its precepts and rules. Marcus Lœlius Strabo, belonging to the order of knights, invented aviaries in which hens were confined;[XVII_21] others sought and discovered the means of giving to their flesh that particular flavour unperceived by uncultivated palates, but which the experienced gastrophilist always appreciates. They patiently gave themselves up to laborious experiments: a warm, narrow, dark spot received these interesting volatiles; the feathers of their wings and tails were plucked, and they were gorged twice a day during three weeks with balls of barley flour mixed with soft water. Great cleanliness was combined with this diet: their heads were well cleansed, and care taken that no insect should enter the aviary.[XVII_22]

{156}

Afterwards barley flour, kneaded with milk, was preferred; then, instead of milk, water, and honey were employed. Excellent wheaten bread, soaked in good wine and hydromel, was also used with success.[XVII_23]

Skilful breeders by these means obtained magnificent hens of an incredibly exquisite flavour, and which weighed no less than sixteen pounds.[XVII_24]

The Fannian law unfortunately came, and, as we have before observed, brought impediments to these beautiful results by interdicting aviaries and skilfully prepared pastes. It is true that this law allowed a farm-yard hen to be served at every repast[XVII_25]—mais une poule par jour est-ce contentement? It became necessary, then, to have recourse to a mezzo-termine, which was discovered in the capon. But the favourite dish forbidden by the consular authority was not altogether abandoned: some faithful epicureans always possessed in the shade well-furnished aviaries; and it was even then, we are assured, that Rome and the universe were enriched with the poularde.[XVII_26]

Poularde à la Viminale.—Cook a fine hen in its gravy; pound and mix benzoin, pepper, oil, and garum, a little thyme, fennel seed, cummin, mint, and rue; stir for a long time; add some vinegar; pound some dates, and mix them with honey and a little vinegar. Of all this make a homogeneous seasoning, and pour it on the hen when it is cold.[XVII_27]

THE CHICKEN.

It is certainly surprising that a people so serious as the Romans generally were, should make the success of the greatest enterprise depend on the appetite of their famous sacred chickens. They were brought from the Island of Negropont, and were kept shut up in cages; their guardian was designated by the name of Pullarius.[XVII_28]

Publius Claudius, constrained to consult these strange prophets before engaging in a naval combat, ordered them to be fed; they refused to open their beaks. The incredulous general ordered them at once to be thrown into the sea, and laughingly exclaimed to the dismayed Pullarius: “Since they will not eat—well! then let us make them drink.”[XVII_29]

{157}

Diodorus of Sicily, and some ancient writers, tell us that the Egyptians, from a remote period, hatched chickens in ovens. This process is decidedly of the highest antiquity, and was applied to the eggs of all kinds of poultry.[XVII_30] In the last century, Réaumur tried various experiments, and recovered this art, which was thought to have been lost; others again have followed the steps of this skilful observer, and, at the present day, obtain the most satisfactory results.

Chickens have ever been considered an estimable food, and hardly yielded to the two glories of their family—the fattened hen and the capon.[XVII_31] The Greeks served them at all their feasts of ceremony, and the Romans granted them a distinguished place among the dishes of the second course.

Apician Macedonia of Chicken.—Chop small the meat of a chicken, which mix with a kid’s breast, and put it into a saucepan with parsley seed, dried pennyroyal, dried mint, ginger, green coriander, and raisins; then add three pieces of the finest oaten bread, some honey, vinegar, oil, and wine; some time after, add some excellent cheese, pine nuts, cucumbers, and dried onions, well chopped. Pour some gravy over the whole, and when it is cooked, surround the dish on all sides with snow, and serve.[XVII_32]

Parthian Chicken.—Open the croup dexterously, and put it in the saucepan; then mix some pepper, alisander, a little carrot, garum, and wine; fill the chicken with this seasoning; cook well, and sprinkle with pepper before serving.[XVII_33]

Numidian Chicken.—Begin by boiling a chicken for some time; then place it in a stew-pan, after having sprinkled it with benzoin and pepper. Afterwards bruise some pepper, cummin, coriander seed, benzoin root, pine nuts, rue, and dates; add honey, vinegar, garum, and oil; boil, thicken with fine flour, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVII_34]

Chicken à la Frontonienne.—Half cook a chicken, and then put into the saucepan garum, oil, a bunch of dill, some leeks, winter savory, and green coriander. You then sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVII_35]

Chicken à la Cœlienne.—Cook a chicken with garum, oil, wine, coriander seed, and onion. Then put some milk and a little salt into another saucepan, with honey and a little water, and cook this mixture over a very slow fire. Throw in by degrees some raspings of sweet biscuits, and take care to stir continually. Put the chicken into this sauce, and then serve with a seasoning of pepper, alisander, and wild{158} marjoram, mixed with honey and cooked vine, which must be boiled and thickened with fine flour.[XVII_36]

THE DUCK.

The duck swims so well it was thought to be paying a compliment to Neptune by sacrificing it to him.[XVII_37] The god of the seas never found fault with this offering.

Attica and the whole of Greece sought the beautiful ducks of Bœotia,[XVII_38] and that province was always found to have supplied a larger number than it reared. It is true the poulterers of Athens, banishing all scruples of conscience, rarely failed to satisfy their customers as to the doubtful origin of a white nêssa (duck), by taking Neptune to witness that it was a pure Bœotian, a real duck, as they said emphatically, of that species so much appreciated by connoisseurs. Future quidnuncs will examine whether the friendly duck of the English and the political and literary canard of the French have, or have not, found their way from Greece, after wandering a little on the road.

There were ducks at that prodigious dinner of the opulent Caranus, of whom we have already spoken several times. They were always served at the tables of the rich Greeks;[XVII_39] and Archigenes reckons them among the viands which agree best with the stomach.[XVII_40] Cato was of the same opinion; and, if we are to believe Plutarch, he made them the food of those of his family who were ill, and boasted of maintaining his children, servants, and himself in perfect health, by the aid of this diet alone.[XVII_41] It was the same idea that made Mithridates mix the flesh of ducks with all he ate, as an antidote against poison, which he feared.[XVII_42]

Hippocrates evinces a contrary opinion. The flesh of this bird seemed to him hard, heavy, and indigestible.[XVII_43] Avicenna goes still further: he threatens all who eat it with fever.[XVII_44] The Romans were no more frightened than the Greeks at the decision of the father of medicine. Lentulus, one of the high magiric authorities of Rome, ordered that the duck should figure in the most honourable manner at the brilliant feast of which Macrobius has preserved us an account.[XVII_45] It must, however, be remembered that polite people, who observed the{159} forms and usages of society, only offered to their guests the breast and head of this biped; the remainder returned to the kitchen.[XVII_46]

Ducks’ Brains à l’Epicurienne.—Cook some ducks’ brains, and mince them very small; then place in a saucepan, with pepper, cummin, benzoin root, garum, sweet wine, and oil; add milk and eggs, and submit the whole to the action of a slow fire, or rather, cook them in a bain-marie.[XVII_47]

Apicius’s Seasoning for a Roast Duck.—Make a mixture of pepper, cummin, alisander, mint, stoned raisins, or Damascus plums; add a little honey and myrtle wine; place it in a saucepan; cook, and then add to these substances vinegar, garum, and oil; afterwards some parsley and savory; serve with the roast duck.[XVII_48]

THE GOOSE.

When a flock of geese are obliged to pass Mount Taurus—the dreaded abode of their enemies, the eagles—each of them takes the precaution to hold a stone in its beak, in order that he may keep a profound silence, which, otherwise, his natural loquacity would render impossible.[XVII_49] This, if true, would justify Aristotle in attributing foresight to the goose;[XVII_50] a quality which Scaliger also claims for this bird.[XVII_51]

The ancients highly esteemed its flesh. Homer[XVII_52] and Athenæus[XVII_53] speak with praise of the fat geese and goslings which the Greeks ate.

The Egyptians served them at their meals every day; it was, with veal, the favourite dish of their monarchs,[XVII_54] and they did not forget to offer some to King Agesilaus, when he was travelling through the country.[XVII_55]

Some eastern nations were impressed with such deep veneration for this bird that they swore by nothing else.[XVII_56] The Britons honoured it, and forbad all persons to do it the least harm.[XVII_57] It remained for Queen Elizabeth to prove, at her joyous dinners of the 29th September, that tastes and usages are modified by time.[XVII_58] And moreover, many centuries before, her ancestors had been greatly wanting in respect towards a particular kind of goose, which they roasted without any ceremony.[XVII_59] A well-deserved sentiment of gratitude rendered them dear{160} to the Romans: their noisy clamour had formerly saved the Capitol.[XVII_60] They became for them, as for the Egyptians,[XVII_61] a symbol of safety, and were reared, both in town and country, to guard the houses.[XVII_62]

Those which were kept, out of gratitude, in the Capitol, were consecrated to Juno, Isis, Mars, and Priapus,[XVII_63] and every year one of them was chosen for the brilliant and solemn ceremony we have already mentioned.[XVII_64]

But, alas! time obscures and effaces all the glories of this world; and that of the Roman geese, no doubt, had to submit to this sad fate,[XVII_65] for they were eaten at least a century before the time of Pliny. Unfortunate bird! Yes, a perfidious art fed them delicately in the shade, in convenient aviaries, where nothing was wanting for their comfort, and at the end of a few days the poor victims made but one step from this dangerous retreat to the place of execution.[XVII_66] The Emperor Alexander Severus became so fond of this dish, that on his great festival days they served him with a goose and a pheasant.[XVII_67] Nothing, in his estimation, could equal the exquisite flavour of these two birds.

The luxurious Romans, however, neglected the entire animal, and thought only of the liver. They invented the art of fattening this viscera, and of increasing its size to such an extent that it often weighed two pounds. To obtain this result, they simply fed their victims of sensuality, during twenty days, with a paste of dried figs and water.[XVII_68] As soon as the goose was killed, the liver was put to soak in milk and honey.

It is not known exactly to whom we are to attribute this gastronomic discovery. Scipio, Metellus, and Marcus Sejus disputed the glory of the invention.[XVII_69] At all events, it is certain that the same method was used in Greece as in Italy; that white geese were chosen in preference,[XVII_70] and that the fat livers were served roasted, or fried in the frying-pan, and enveloped in the omentum, a membrane which we term the caul.[XVII_71] Pliny assures us that Apicius found means to increase livers to a monstrous size,[XVII_72] which almost equalled in weight the whole body of the animal.[XVII_73]

The wings and neck of the goose also acquired some favour; the feet were added, when Messalinus had taught how to peel them by passing them rapidly over the fire, and then preparing them with cocks’ combs. The remainder was only good for the common people.[XVII_74]

Stuffed goslings also enjoyed a reputation among the Greeks,[XVII_75] who fattened them by giving them, three times a day, during a month, a{161} mixture of bran and flour, moistened with hot water (two parts of flour and four parts of bran); but, if Palladius is to be believed, it is much better to feed them solely with millet, and as much water as they may require.[XVII_76]

Sejus Seasoning.—Bruise pepper, alisander, coriander, mint, and rue; mix with it garum and a little oil; pour it over the roast goose, and serve.[XVII_77]

Apician Seasoning for a Roast Goose’s Liver.—Crush in a mortar, and then well mix, pepper, carrots, cummin, parsley-seed, thyme, onions, benzoin root, and fried pine nuts; add honey, vinegar, garum, and oil, and serve with the roast liver in the omentum.[XVII_78]

Boiled Goose à la Gauloise.—Boil a goose with garum, oil, wine, a bunch of leeks, coriander, and savory; then crush pepper and pine nuts, to which put a little water. Then take the leeks, coriander, and savory out of the saucepan; put in their place the mixture mentioned, add some milk, boil it, thicken with whites of eggs, and serve.[XVII_79]

In the sixteenth century they had dark cages, in which they fattened poultry with ground tares, wheaten flour, and barley meal. Capons fattened in hutches, where they could not turn, nor even stir, were esteemed delicious. They fed pigeons on the crumb of bread, steeped in wine; peacocks on the sediment from cider.

On Michaelmas Day, the 29th of September, many persons in England eat roast goose for their dinner. It is said that this custom dates from the time of Queen Elizabeth, who was being served with a piece of goose on Michaelmas Day, at the very moment when news was brought of the defeat of the famous Armada. Some persons affirm that the Queen expressed a desire that this dish might, each year, serve to perpetuate the remembrance of so signal a victory. Would it not be more simple to suppose that Elizabeth herself already conformed to a custom which had existed before her time?[XVII_80]

At Mans, instead of letting the poultry eat freely, they are shut up in a dark place, and made to swallow pellets of about two inches long and one thick, composed of two parts of barley flour, and one of maize, made with sufficient quantity of milk.

“In the time when the French had a decided taste for spices and aromatics, they imagined to vary at will the flavour and perfume of the flesh of fowls. With the paste used to fatten them was mixed musk, anise-seed, and comfits, with other aromatic drugs. A Queen was known{162} to spend 1,500 francs (£60) in fattening three geese, whose livers she wished to render more delicate.”—Parmentier.

THE PIGEON.

The dove, a bird so dear to Venus,[XVII_81] served ambrosia to Jupiter,[XVII_82] and became the interpreter of Dodona’s oracles.[XVII_83] Several nations consecrated it to their gods.[XVII_84] The Jews discovered in it the image of the sweetest virtues,[XVII_85] of beauty, innocence, and purity;[XVII_86] and they sacrificed it to the Almighty, as a burnt offering agreeable to His unspeakable holiness.[XVII_87]

This was because the dove or pigeon (begging pardon, here, for mixing varieties) is to the hawk, according to an expression of a father of the Church, what the lamb is to the wolf,[XVII_88]—a symbol of good by the side of evil, or of a calm and peaceful conscience, as opposed to the sad and agitated criminal. But, alas! the ancient prerogatives of this tender bird, its candour and innocence, could not even preserve it from the fate common to almost everything which breathes. Its delicate flesh—fatal gift of Heaven!—recommended it to the epicure; not for its poetical qualities, but for its delicate flavour; and, after many songs of praise, it was condemned to be roasted.

From the beginning of the heroic ages, pigeons were caught with snares and nets,[XVII_89] in order to feed them, and be able to procure some at once, if required to be served at a repast; for they formed a dainty dish upon the tables of the most fastidious.[XVII_90] Of course they figured in the joyous wedding feast of that opulent Caranus who entertained his guests so sumptuously.[XVII_91]

The Greeks, therefore, used to bring up an immense number of pigeons, and built for them, in the most open situations, charming pigeon-houses, in the form of small towers, models of elegance and cleanliness, where those timid birds found at night a retreat, always fatal to some one amongst them.[XVII_92]

The Romans introduced in these sorts of edifices the most unusual luxury.[XVII_93] Each kind of pigeon had a particular home[XVII_94]—a foolish and expensive taste, which they continually attempted to embellish. It was,{163} however, a profitable speculation for those who knew how to be satisfied with pigeon-houses of more simple appearance. A brace of rather ordinary pigeons did not cost less than 16s.: the finest were sold at £4 a pair. It is even known that L. Axius, a Roman knight, demanded and obtained £6 8s. for two young pigeons intended for a patrician’s table.[XVII_95]

Physicians of that period greatly praised the flesh of these birds; they recommended it to the sick and convalescent.[XVII_96]

Roast Pigeon, with Servilian Seasoning.—Bruise some dill seeds, dried mint, and the root of benzoin; add some vinegar, dates, garum, a little mustard, and oil; stir well; then mix with it some wine reduced to half, and pour the whole on the roasted pigeon.[XVII_97]

THE GUINEA HEN.

This bird, called by the ancients the “Hen of Numidia,” comes originally from many burning regions of Africa. In Greece, and especially in Rome, vanity alone gave it a price which was willingly granted, more on account of its scarcity than for its taste.[XVII_98] The Guinea hen appeared at great banquets, when the Amphytrion was more anxious to show his opulence than to demonstrate the delicacy of his dishes. Martial,[XVII_99] and Pliny,[XVII_100] the naturalist, raised great objections against this ostentatious and useless rarity.

Guinea Hen à la Numide.—Cook it; then put it in a saucepan with some honey and garum; make several incisions in the bird; baste it with its own gravy, and sprinkle with pepper previously to its being served.[XVII_101]

THE TURKEY HEN.

“There must be two to eat a truffled turkey,” said a gastronomist of the 18th century, to one of his friends—a noted gourmand—who had just come to pay him a visit. “Two!” replied the visitor, with a smile of sensuality.{164} “Yes, two,” answered the first; “I never do otherwise: for instance, I have a turkey to-day, and of course we must be two.” The friend, looking earnestly at the other, said: “You, and who else?” “Why,” answered the gastronomist, “I and the turkey.”

In Greece, more than one stomach would have been capable of challenging nobly the voracity of this modern polyphagus: witness the insatiable greediness of the well-known glutton who complained that nature ought to have given him a neck as long as the stork, that he might enjoy for a longer period his eating and drinking.[XVII_102]

But for a long time the Greeks were quite ignorant of the culinary value of the turkey; it was looked upon as an uncommon curiosity, and not condemned to the spit. Sophocles, the first who spoke of it, pretended that those marvellous birds came purposely from some distant climate beyond the Indies, to bewail the death of Meleager, who took possession of the throne of Macedonia (279 years B.C.), and who was soon driven from it.[XVII_103] This Prince, it is reported, carried them away from barbarous regions, that they might enjoy the charms of Greek civilization; and hence could there be anything more natural than to find those compassionate volatiles shedding tears for their benefactor, in one of Sophocles’ tragedies? They have been called since, Meleagrides, and this name perpetuated “misfortune, favour, and gratitude.”

Aristotle hardly supplies us with any details upon turkey hens: he merely says that their eggs are distinguished by little specks from those of the common hens, which are white;[XVII_104] but Clytus of Miletus, his disciple, gives an exact description of them, by which no mistake can be made.[XVII_105]

Egypt also possessed some of these birds; but there they were still more rare than in Greece, and formed one of the principal ornaments in the triumphal pomp of Ptolemy Philadelphus, when he entered Alexandria. Large cages, containing meleagrides, were carried before the monarch, and on that day the people knew not which to admire most—the prince or the turkey.[XVII_106]

They were introduced into Rome about the year 115 before our era; but, for a long time, they were objects of uncommon curiosity: and Varro, the first of the Latins who speaks of them, confounds these birds with the guinea hens, or hens of Numidia.[XVII_107]

A century later, turkeys greatly multiplied, and vast numbers were reared in the Roman farms. Caligula, who had the good sense to make{165} his own apotheosis during his life-time, through fear lest it might be refused after his death, ordered a sacrifice of peacocks, guinea hens, and turkeys to be made daily before his statue.[XVII_108]

It appears, however, that the breed of turkeys soon began to diminish in Europe; very few were reared, and that only as a curiosity: in the citadel of Athens, towards the year 540 of the Christian era;[XVII_109] and in 1510, two were exhibited in Rome, which belonged to the Cardinal of Saint Clement.[XVII_110] Jacques Cœur brought some meleagrides from India, in 1450; they were the first ever seen in France, and it was not till fifty-four years afterwards that Americus Vespucius made them known to the Portuguese. In our days these ancient inhabitants of Asia or America[XVII_111] have become naturalized among us, and let us hope that the day is yet distant when they will be absentees from our farm-yards and our tables. We admire them less perhaps than Charles IX. did when a turkey was served to him for the first time,[XVII_112] but we shall always receive with cheerfulness the majestic dish upon which appears a well-fed turkey, truffled, and smoking hot.

Turkey à l’Africaine.—Roast a turkey; bruise some pepper, alisander, and benzoin; mix it with wine and garum. Pour this seasoning on the turkey, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVII_113]

The historian of Provence, Bouche, will have it that the French are indebted for the turkey to King René, who died in 1480. Other writers assure us that this volatile was introduced during the reign of Francis I. by Admiral Chabert. La-Bruyère-Champier speaks of it as a recent acquisition, and Beckmann refutes those who date its existence in France previous to the 16th century. He says that this bird, which was wild in the forests of America, became domesticated in Europe.

It is also said that we owe the importation of it to the Jesuits. According to Hurtaut, it was not until about the time of Charles IX. that turkeys appeared in France.[XVII_114] It is asserted, adds this author, that at the wedding-dinner of that Prince the first turkey was served, and that it was admired as a very extraordinary thing. The English tasted this new dish in 1525, the fifteenth year of the reign of Henry VIII.

To fatten turkeys—every morning, for a month, give them mashed potatoes, mixed with buck-wheat flour, Indian corn, barley, or beans; a paste is made of it which they are left to eat as they please. Every evening what remains must be taken away. One month after, you add to this food, when they go to roost, half a dozen balls composed of{166} barley floor, which they are made to swallow for eight days successively; at the end of that time turkeys, thus fed, become excessively fat, delicious, and weigh from twenty to twenty-five pounds.

In Provence, walnuts are given to them whole, which they are compelled to swallow by slipping them one by one with the hand along the neck until they have all past the œsophagus; they begin with one walnut, and increase by degrees to forty. This kind of food gives an oily taste to the flesh.

Turkey eggs are good boiled, and are preferred to those of hens for pastry; mixing them with the common eggs makes an omelette more delicate.

“To obtain all the advantages possible from turkeys, they must be killed at the same time as pigs; then cut the turkeys in quarters, and put them in earthen pots covered over with the fat of the pork, and by this means they may be eaten all the year round.”—Parmentier.

THE PEACOCK.

The peacock comes originally from India: it was there that Alexander the Great saw it for the first time. He was so struck with its magnificent plumage that he forbad all persons, under pain of death, to kill any.[XVII_115]

Oriental princes kept the peacocks which travellers brought them, from time to time, in their aviaries.[XVII_116] It was thus[XVII_117] that a certain king of Egypt received one, of which he thought Jupiter alone worthy; wherefore he sent it in great pomp to the temple of that god.[XVII_118]

These birds were thus known over various parts of the world. Samos, which seems to have been provided one of the first, ornamented its money with their image.[XVII_119] Their reputation soon spread far and wide;[XVII_120] and Athenian speculators sent to that island for peacocks, which were shown to the curious once a month.[XVII_121]

This variety became afterwards an article of commerce, and all wealthy people became desirous to have them. A male and female cost £8 sterling.[XVII_122] But what was that, when delighted eyes could contemplate the charming and lovely colours of the haughty favourite of Juno!

At Rome, the peacock had a prodigious success.[XVII_123] When alive, the{167} Romans praised its beauty; when dead, it appeared on the tables of its enthusiastic admirers.

Quintus Hortensius, the orator, was the first who had them served in a banquet given by him on the occasion of being created an augur.[XVII_124] This gastronomic novelty made an extraordinary sensation at Rome—as might be expected—and the peacock became so much in fashion, that no banquet could possibly be given unless it was embellished by its presence.[XVII_125]

Marcus Aufidius Livio was the first to contrive a sure way to fatten them;[XVII_126] and he succeeded so well that he made prodigious sums every year by the sale of those birds.[J]

Horace preferred them to the finest poultry,[XVII_127] and distinguished amateurs thought that it was not paying much for a young peacock if they could get it for two pounds and three shillings.[XVII_128]

The ridiculous consumption which was made of these birds did not allow of their becoming very common. Tiberius reared some in his gardens; and he condemned to capital punishment a soldier of his guards who had the misfortune to kill one.[XVII_129]

Ultimately, more savoury or more rare dishes took the place of peacocks’ flesh, which then began to be thought hard, unwholesome, and of difficult digestion.[XVII_130] However, it re-appeared in the middle ages at the nuptial festivities of the rich, where one of these birds was served, as if alive, with the beak and claws gilded. To do that well, it was necessary to skin the bird very carefully, and then cook it with aromatics, such as cinnamon, cloves, &c. It was then covered with its skin and feathers, and served without any appearance of having been stripped. This luxury was to gratify the sight: nobody touched it. The peacock was thus preserved for several years without being damaged—a property believed to be peculiar to its flesh,[XVII_131] but which was owing, no doubt, to the aromatics just mentioned.

Peacock of Samos.—Mix some pepper, alisander, parsley, dill flowers, dried mint, and filberts, or fried almonds; bruise them with green smallage[K] and pennyroyal, and mix the whole with wine, honey, vinegar, and garum. Make incisions in the bird, and cover it with this seasoning.[XVII_132]

{168}

XVIII.

MILK, BUTTER, CHEESE, AND EGGS.

MILK.

It would, probably, be impossible to trace the epoch at which man began to make use of milk as food. Abraham presented some to the three angels who appeared to him in the valley of Mamre;[XVIII_1] and it is likely, that long before that patriarch, the eastern nations had recourse to an aliment so easily acquired, and which their numerous flocks produced in such abundance.

Among the Jews, milk was always considered as an emblem of the wealth of a country and the fertility of its soil; so much so, that the sacred books almost invariably speak of a happy region, as one “flowing with milk and honey.”[XVIII_2] This metaphorical expression testifies sufficiently to the taste of the Hebrews for this aliment, which their King Solomon recommended to them in these terms: “and thou shalt have goat’s milk enough for thy food, for the food of thy household, and for the maintenance of thy maidens.”[XVIII_3]

Profane antiquity agrees on this point with our holy chroniclers. It represents to us the first men, free from passions and fears, surrounded by streams of milk and nectar, from which they drew health and life.[XVIII_4] Happy time! ere milk-maids existed to practise those deceptions they have now imbibed from the deceitful arts of chemistry.

The greater part of the wandering tribes, such as the Getes and Scythians, were galactophagists,[XVIII_5] or drinkers of milk;[XVIII_6] the Gauls[XVIII_7] and{169} Germans[XVIII_8] made it also their principal food. In Greece and Italy, the shepherds decorated the vessels in which they had just milked their flocks with crowns of flowers; and, in honour of the rural divinities, they scattered about a small quantity of this sweet liquid.[XVIII_9] The reapers offered it to Ceres;[XVIII_10] and in one of the sections of Rome, Mercury was presented with milk instead of wine.

The ancients attributed to milk from cows, ewes, and goats, various Hygeian qualities.[XVIII_11] Hippocrates forbade it in cases of head-ache, fevers, and bilious attacks;[XVIII_12] but he sometimes ordered asses’ milk,[XVIII_13] which was considered as an excellent remedy, and a most wholesome aliment.[XVIII_14]

The voluptuous people of Rome rubbed their faces and skins with bread soaked in asses’ milk, to make them fairer and prevent the beard from growing too fast.

Suetonius[XVIII_15] and Martial[XVIII_16] speak of these refinements of luxurious delicacies. The satirical Juvenal informs us that bread was made into a kind of plaster or mask, with which they covered the face.[XVIII_17] Poppæia, wife of Nero, was the first, or one of the first, to bring this recipe into fashion, being fully persuaded that she would thus preserve the whiteness and delicacy of her skin. Five hundred asses used to supply daily the necessary quantity of milk to make the cosmetic and bath[XVIII_18] of the coquettish empress.

This high patronage did not prevent asses’ milk from losing by degrees—and very unjustly, no doubt—the reputation it acquired.[XVIII_19]

Fashion—capricious and all-powerful deity—undertook to re-instate its virtues, after several centuries of profound forgetfulness. The success was complete. This is how the affair took place:—

Francis I., finding himself weak and languishing, the physicians, after a long consultation on the monarch’s illness, advised remedies which did not cure the royal patient. However, the King of France was getting worse every day, and his state gave serious apprehensions. Some one mentioning to his Majesty that a Jew of Constantinople was noted as one of the cleverest doctors in the world, Francis immediately ordered his ambassador in Turkey to send him this Israelitish doctor, whatever might be the cost. The Jew arrived, and prescribed no other remedy than asses’ milk. The king found himself much better, and the courtiers and ladies of the court eagerly followed the same diet, even for the slightest imaginary indisposition.{170}

A patient, cured by the use of this wholesome and restorative food, thought of expressing his gratitude by the following stanza:—

Macédoine Germanique of Milk.—Pound dry almonds, and put them into a stewpan with the following ingredients:—the most delicate parts of mallows only, and white-beet, some leeks, parsley, and other leguminous herbs, previously cooked, a fowl boiled and minced small, the brains of poultry or sucking pigs, also boiled, and lastly, some hard eggs cut in two. Put all these together, as mentioned before; some little time after that, add sausage meat, fowls’ livers, fresh cod fish, and oysters—the whole reduced into pulp—some fresh cheese, pine nuts, and whole pepper. Whilst this is boiling on a very slow fire, prepare the following seasoning: pound some pepper, alisander, parsley seeds, and silphium; stew separately with gravy; mix raw eggs with a great quantity of milk; add it to the preceding seasoning; pour it over the contents of the stewpan, then pepper, and serve.[XVIII_20]

BUTTER.

A learned writer[XVIII_21] has maintained that the ancient inhabitants of the east did not know of butter, and that by this word must be understood, when it occurs in the holy writings, sour milk or cream. Whatever may be the respect due to the grave authority of Beckmann, we beg leave to adhere to the opinion of various translators of the Bible, and believe with them that the Jews knew how to prepare butter. Independently of the signification of chemack, to which a profound philosopher gives the same sense,[XVIII_22] and which appears very naturally to offer this acceptation, we could still fortify our opinion by the passage where Job, recalling with sorrow the happy days of his youth, says, that he used to wash his “feet in butter.”[XVIII_23] We agree that these words are understood in a figurative sense, and that the man of God wished to show by it that he was the possessor of a great number of flocks.{171}

But it is nevertheless true, that this metaphorical locution recalls also one of the uses made of that fat substance, which was for a long while employed, like oil, to soften and refresh the limbs.

Indulgent reader, excuse this episode upon a ground which we ought not to touch, and let us re-enter the kitchen.

The Greeks, who understood many things, and knew them so well, passed over several centuries without once thinking that the milk of their ewes and cows contained a food already well-known by several barbarous nations. Aristotle mentions the serous part of milk, and cheese;[XVIII_24] but he hardly suspects the existence of butter, which he describes but very imperfectly as a liquid oil.[XVIII_25] Antecedent to him, Hippocrates never thought of it, except as a foreign remedy which Asia supplied to Greece.[XVIII_26]

It was only fifty years after Aristotle that it began to be noticed as an aliment. The Greeks, in imitation of the Parthians and Scythians, who used to send it to them, had it served upon their tables, and called it at first “oil of milk,”[XVIII_27] and later, bouturos, “cow cheese,” probably on account of the quantity made from the milk of that animal.[XVIII_28]

The Germans, according to Beckmann, taught the Romans how to make butter, but they never employed it otherwise than as a remedy in Italy.

It is certain that in the time of Pliny it had hardly been heard of at Rome,[XVIII_29] and that, according to this writer, the barbarians only—that is to say, those who were unfortunate enough not to be either Greeks or Romans—made their food of it.[XVIII_30] Towards the year 175 of the Christian era, Galen then placed butter only among the therapeutic agents useful in medicine.[XVIII_31] However, more than a century before him, Dioscorides wished it to be noticed that fresh butter made of ewes’ or goats’ milk was served at meals instead of oil, and that it took the place of fat in making pastry.[XVIII_32]

Herodotus has preserved some interesting details on the manipulation of butter among the Scythians. They received the milk in large pails, and beat it for a long time to separate the most delicate part, and appointed for this labour those enemies whom the fortune of war delivered into their hands. These unhappy creatures were deprived of sight, which prevented their escape.[XVIII_33]

The Romans set about making butter as we do. Pliny says: “Butter is made from milk, and this aliment, so much sought after by barbarous{172} nations, distinguished the rich from the common people. It is obtained principally from cows’ milk; that from ewes is the fattest. Goats also supply some. It is produced by agitating the milk in long vessels with a narrow opening. A little water is added.”[XVIII_34]

Formerly it was required in many countries that the dealer in this article should sell good butter to his customers. In France, for instance, intolerance was carried so far as to forbid “all persons to re-scrape, beat, or work up any butter, either fresh or salted; change, mix, or mingle it, under pain of being whipped.”[XVIII_35] Since then the strangeness of such a measure has become palpable, the more so as modern good faith and honesty render it more useless than ever.

During the early ages of the Church, butter was burned in the lamps instead of oil. This practice is still continued in Abyssinia.[XVIII_36]

The cathedral of Rouen has a tower, called the “Butter Tower.” It acquired this name from the fact that George d’Amboise, who was archbishop of that city in 1500, seeing that oil was scarce in his diocese during Lent, authorised the use of butter, on condition that each diocesan should pay six deniers Tournois (about a farthing) for the permission. The money obtained by these means served to construct the “Butter Tower.”[XVIII_37]

To obtain butter instantly it is only necessary, in summer, to put new milk into bottles some hours after it has been taken from the cow, and shake it briskly. The clots which form, thrown into a sieve, washed and pressed together, constitute the finest and most delicate butter that can possibly be made.

One of the great means of preserving butter fresh for any length of time is, first to press all the buttermilk completely out, then to keep it under water (renewing the water frequently), and to abstract it from the influence of heat and air by wrapping it in a wet cloth.

When butter has become very rancid, it is melted several times by a moderate heat, with or without the addition of water, and, as soon as it has been malaxated, after the cooling, in order to extract any water it may have retained, it is put into brown freestone pots, sheltered from the contact of the air. Frequently, when it is melted, a piece of toasted bread is put into it, which acts in the same manner as charcoal; that is to say, it attenuates the rancidity.[XVIII_38]

{173}

CHEESE.

A demi-god, Aristæus, the son of Apollo, and King of Arcadia, invented cheese,[XVIII_39] and the whole of Greece welcomed with gratitude this royal and almost divine present. Sober individuals willingly ate some at their meals;[XVIII_40] gluttons perceived that it sharpened the appetite; and great drinkers that it provoked copious libations. Thus the aged Nestor, wise as he was, brought wine to Machaon, who had just been wounded in the right arm, and did not fail to add to it goat cheese and an onion, to force him to drink more.[XVIII_41]

This food was also well known to the Hebrews, and the holy writings sometimes mention it.[XVIII_42]

Mare’s milk, or that of the ass, makes an excellent cheese, but much inferior to that procured from the camel, for which an epicure could not pay too dearly. Cow-milk cheese, although more fat and unctuous, was only considered as third-rate.[XVIII_43]

The Phrygians made exquisite cheese by artistically mixing the milk of asses and mares. The Scythians only employed the former; the Greeks imitated them.[XVIII_44] The Sicilians also mixed the milk of goats and ewes.[XVIII_45]

The Romans smoked their cheeses, to give them a sharp taste; they possessed public places expressly for this use, and subject to police regulations which no one could evade.[XVIII_46]

In the time of Pliny, little goat cheeses, which were much esteemed, were sent every morning to the market for the sale of dainties, from the environs of Rome.[XVIII_47] With the addition of a little bread, they formed the breakfast of sober and delicate persons. Asia Minor, Tuscany, the Alps, Gaul, and Nîmes especially, furnished very good ones for the tables of the Romans,[XVIII_48] who sought in preference certain sweet and soft qualities. The greater part of barbarous nations esteemed only the strong cheese.[XVIII_49]

The Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans, always kept some of these last for the provision of their armies, and it was among them a military aliment.[XVIII_50] The Athenians fed their wrestlers with it,[XVIII_51] and it was the sole treat of the shepherds of Italy.[XVIII_52]

The lower classes and country people prepared with cheese and{174} various salted substances a dish they thought most relishing, and which epicureans only mentioned with horror. This was called tyrotarichus, and Cicero often employs this word to designate a frugal style of cookery.[XVIII_53]

Besides those countries celebrated for the goodness of cheeses already mentioned, there is Tromelia, in Achaia,[XVIII_54] and the Island of Cythnus, where they represented their cheeses on their money, an ingenious manner of making them known, which succeeded wonderfully well; and lastly, Salonia, a city of Bithynia, renowned for its rich pastures, where numerous herds of cows were kept, and whose milk furnished an exquisite kind known by the name of Salonite cheese.[XVIII_55] It appears to have been often served to the Emperor Augustus, who ate it with brown bread, little fish, and fresh figs.[XVIII_56]

The art of giving a relish to the cheese, by mixing with it odoriferous herbs, is said to be more than nine hundred years old. This operation was designated persiller, showing that originally parsley was introduced.[XVIII_57] We cannot say whether the Romans made use of this plant to give a pungency to their cheese, but it is certain that they often mixed some herbs with it.[XVIII_58] Thus Columella informs us that sometimes the leaves and small branches of the fig tree were used to communicate an agreeable flavour.[XVIII_59] The same writer has transmitted to us a very simple process, much in use in his time, for preserving cheese. They first covered it with brine, and then dried it in a thick smoke obtained from straw or green wood.[XVIII_60]

The following are some of the dishes of which cheese served as the basis:—

Salad of Cheese à la Bithynienne.—Cut some slices of excellent bread; leave them for some time in vinegar and water; then make a mixture of this bread with pepper, mint, garlic, and green coriander; throw on it a good quantity of cow’s cheese salted; add water, oil, and wine.[XVIII_61]

Dish of Tromelian Cheese.—Take fresh cheese; mix it well with pepper, alisander, dried mint, pine nuts, sun raisins, and dates; then add honey, vinegar, and afterwards, garum, oil, wine, and cooked wine.[XVIII_62]

The celebrated cheese of Rouergue, known under the name of “Roquefort cheese,” was made, in the 17th century as follows—we cite from Marcorelle:—{175}

“The curd employed is made from sheep’s milk, mixed with a little goat’s milk. It is broken as small as possible. When it is taken from the moulds, it is bound with a linen band and taken to the drying room; then to the caves, where it is rubbed with salt on the two flat sides of the surface. The downy substance which subsequently covers the crust is frequently scraped off; after which, it is left to ripen on tablets exposed to currents of air which proceed from the interstices of the rocks in which the caves are formed.”

Besides salt, employed as a seasoning and condiment for cheeses, they contain in their composition different substances which give rise to an infinite variety of odours, taste, and colour. In the Vosges, for example, they mix with the cheese of Gerardmer seeds of plants belonging to the family of umbellifers; in the country of Limburg, they incorporate chopped parsley, scallions, and tarragon; the Italians make use of saffron to colour the Parmesan cheese, and the English of roucou for the Cheshire cheese. Others are in the habit of cutting away a portion of the middle of the cheese, and filling the cavity with Malaga or Canary wine.[XVIII_63]

EGGS.

Orpheus, Pythagoras, and their sectators—good and humane people as ever lived—unceasingly recommended in their discourses to abstain from eggs, in order not to destroy a germ which nature had destined for the production of chicken.[XVIII_64] Many allowed themselves to be persuaded, and would have believed it an unpardonable crime if they had eaten a tiny omelette, or boiled eggs.

Many of the most learned philosophers held eggs in a kind of respect approaching to veneration, because they saw in them the emblem of the world and the four elements. The shell, they said, represented the earth; the white, water; the yolk, fire; and air was found under the shell.[XVIII_65]

In India and Syria, there was less scruple about swallowing a few eggs; but the hens were devoutly worshipped, because the world is indebted to them for chickens.[XVIII_66]

The Greeks and Romans, although more reasonable, felt, however,{176} for eggs a trifling weakness not exempt from superstition. They already made use of them in their sacrifices, and carried them with great pomp in the festivals of Ceres.[XVIII_67] For them it was also a symbol of the universe, and an expiation would not have been complete if some eggs had not been broken on the altar of the irritated gods.[XVIII_68]

Magicians and sorcerers, who abounded in Rome, established singular fables with regard to eggs. Livia, the happy consort of Nero, being enceinte, consulted a sorceress, who said to her, “warm in your bosom a new laid egg until hatched; if a male chicken comes forth, thank the gods, who will grant you a son.” The empress followed this advice; a cock chick came, and the princess gave birth to Tiberius.[XVIII_69] This anecdote circulated in Rome, and all ladies in the same interesting situation, imitating Livia, amused themselves with hatching chickens.

It appears that the egg played also a most important part in dreams. A man having dreamed that he had eaten one, went to consult a soothsayer, who told him that the white signified he would soon have silver, and the yolk that he would receive gold. The fortunate dreamer really received very soon afterwards a legacy partly consisting of those two precious metals. He hastened to thank the diviner, and offered him a piece of silver. “This is very well for the white,” said the latter, “but is there nought for the yolk?”[XVIII_70] It is not known whether the heir was generous enough to understand this bon mot.

All these pagan follies are to be accounted for by the doctrine of the poet Orpheus, who first taught the Greeks that a primitive egg had produced all other beings;[XVIII_71] a very ancient idea, no doubt, transmitted to them by the Egyptians, who, as well as the Phœnicians, Persians, and Chaldeans, represented the world by that symbol.

It is now time to describe eggs as an aliment.

The shepherds of Egypt had a singular manner of cooking them without the aid of fire: they placed them in a sling, which they turned so rapidly that the friction of the air heated them to the exact point required for use.[XVIII_72]

In Rome and in Greece, new-laid eggs were served at the beginning of a repast;[XVIII_73] and the Roman gourmets asserted that, to maintain oneself in health, “it was necessary to remain at table from the egg to the apple.”[XVIII_74] We have adopted the half of that proverb, and we say every day, this story must be taken up ab ovo.

The Romans did not confine themselves to hens’ eggs, of which they{177} preferred the long ones;[XVIII_75] they sought those of the partridge and pheasant, which Galen considered the most delicate.[XVIII_76] They also thought much of peacocks’ eggs. It was Quintus Hortensius who set the example of this luxury,[XVIII_77] which, however, was discarded by degrees when the precious fecundity of the hens of Adria began to be appreciated.[XVIII_78]

The ancients appear to have been very partial to soft-boiled eggs, which may be sucked at once. Nicomachus mentions them: “My father,” says he, “had left me a poor little estate; in a few months I made it as round as an egg; then, breaking the shell, I made but one gulp of it.”[XVIII_79]

At Rome, this aliment was prepared in twenty different manners; they pickled it,[XVIII_80] cooked it in water, on hot ashes, on charcoal, and in the fryingpan. Eggs eaten in the shell, however, were thought the most wholesome.[XVIII_81]

Eggs à la Romaine.—Cook some eggs; cut them, and throw over a seasoning composed in the following manner. Bruise some pepper, alisander, coriander, and rue, to which add garum, honey, and a little oil.[XVIII_82]

Hard Eggs à l’Athénienne.—Cut each egg in four, and sprinkle over garum, oil, and wine.[XVIII_83]

Fried Eggs à l’Epænète.—Fry some eggs; place them in a dish, and season with a mixture of pepper, alisander, pine nuts, garum, benzoin, and pepper.[XVIII_84]

Egyptian Egg Pudding.—Take the yolks of a good number of hard eggs; reduce them to a paste with crushed pine nuts, an onion, a leek, some gravy, and pepper; add a little wine and garum. Stuff an intestine with this pulp, and cook.[XVIII_85]

Dish of Eggs à la Macédonienne.—Put in a mortar some pepper, mint, parsley, pennyroyal, cheese, and pine nuts; when this is well crushed, add honey, vinegar, fresh water, and garum; then a large number of yolks of eggs; mix well with the rest; throw the whole into a saucepan; add bread soaked in vinegar and water,—which, however, must be well squeezed out—with fresh cow’s-milk cheese, cucumbers, almonds, chopped onions, fowls’ livers, and garum.[XVIII_86]

Lesbian Eggs aux Roses.—Pluck the leaves of some roses; take only the whitest part, and put them into a mortar with garum. Stir a long time; add half a small glass of gravy; stir and strain; put into this liquor the brains of four fowls and eight scruples of ground pepper; stir a long time; add to it eight eggs, half a small glass of wine,{178} and as much cooked wine, and, lastly, a little oil. Grease well the inside of a dish, pour the whole into it, and place it over a very slow charcoal fire. Cook, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.[XVIII_87]

It was a custom, common to every agricultural population throughout Europe and Asia, to celebrate the new year by eating eggs; and they formed a part of the presents made on that day. Care was taken to dye them different colours, particularly red—the favourite colour of the ancients, and of the Celts in particular.[XVIII_88]

It appears that, formerly, people consumed an astonishing number of eggs in England on Easter Sunday. We find the following article in an account of expenses for the king’s household (Edward I.) on the occasion of this festival:—

“For four hundred and a half of eggs, eighteen pence.”[XVIII_89] At that epoch eggs were not so dear in England as they are now; nor did kings fail to eat more of them.

In 1533, a bishop of Paris, authorised by a bull from the Pope, Julius III., being disposed to permit the use of eggs during Lent, the parliament took offence, and prevented the execution of the episcopal mandate. It is this severe abstinence from eggs during Lent which gave rise to the custom of having a great number of them blessed on Easter eve, to be distributed among friends on Easter Sunday; whence comes the expression, “to give Easter eggs.” Pyramids of them were carried into the king’s cabinet after the high mass. They were gilded, or admirably painted, and the prince made presents of them to his courtiers.[XVIII_90]

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XIX.

HUNTING.

From the first ages of the world man has passionately loved the exercise of hunting; the dangers he then encountered inflamed his courage. It was glorious to struggle with the terrible inhabitants of the forest or the desert; to conquer them; to bring home their bleeding spoils; to furnish an heroic name for the songs of poets, and the admiration of posterity.

The sacred writings have handed down to us the name of the first mighty hunter before the Lord;[XIX_1] they inform us that Ishmael, in the solitude of Arabia, became skilful in drawing the bow;[XIX_2] and that David, when yet young, dared to fight with lions and bears.[XIX_3]

Fable, that veiled light of truth, through which it sometimes glimmers, caused Hercules to be ranked with the gods when he had overthrown the lion of Nemæa, the hydra of Lerna, and the wild boar of Erymanthus.[XIX_4]

Diana descended to the earth, and pursued in the forests the timid stag.[XIX_5] The Greeks raised altars to her, and the centaur Chiron learned of her the noble art of venery, which he, in his turn, taught to illustrious disciples, among whom are mentioned Æsculapius, Nestor, Theseus, Ulysses, and Achilles.[XIX_6]

Pollux trained the first hunting dogs, and Castor accustomed horses to follow the track of wild beasts.[XIX_7] From that time, heroes, when resting from real conquests, sought diversion in games nearly as formidable, and imitative of their combats, which often placed their lives in danger. Ulysses, for example, always bore the scar of a wound inflicted by a wild boar.[XIX_8]

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The most grave philosophers, and the most illustrious poets have bestowed praises on the chase.

Aristotle advised young men to apply themselves to it early.[XIX_9] Plato finds in it something divine,[XIX_10] Horace looks upon it as healthful exercise, strengthening to the body, and preparing the way for glory;[XIX_11] and indeed, this heroic and royal exercise[XIX_12] always possessed irresistible attraction for the greatest men of antiquity.

The warriors of Homer,[XIX_13] Pelopidas,[XIX_14] Alexander of Macedon,[XIX_15] Philopœmen,[XIX_16] seemed to derive from it fresh warlike ardour.

The ancients hunted in the open country, in forests, and in parks. Mounted on fiery steeds, armed with javelins and long cutlasses, or with swords and lances,[XIX_17] they excited their indefatigable hounds, and promised to consecrate to Diana the stag’s horns, or the tusks of the boar,[XIX_18] which might become their prey.

The Greeks and Romans reared hunting dogs with extreme care, and they began to make use of them from the age of eight or ten months.[XIX_19] These animals had names, short, sonorous, and easy to be pronounced, such as Lance, Flower, Blade, Strength, Ardent, &c.[XIX_20]

The strongest and most courageous came from England and Scotland;[XIX_21] Crete, Tuscany, and Umbria were the nurseries of the most expert.[XIX_22] The Gallic dogs surpassed all others by their agility and astonishing swiftness.[XIX_23]

Females were generally preferred to the males,[XIX_24] either because they were more docile, or pursued the game with more ardour and persistence. It may be as well to remark, too, in this place, that the Greeks thought much more of mares than of horses for chariot racing.[XIX_25]

The dogs were always chained. Their liberty was only given them at the moment of starting for the chase.[XIX_26] Their fire and ferocity were then incredible. They dashed off with fury, and when they succeeded in coming up with their prey, some would suffer their legs to be cut off rather than loose their hold. The Indian dogs, trained for lion hunting, often gave this proof of obstinate and implacable rage.[XIX_27]

The ancients also took game by means of pits covered over with brushwood, in snares,[XIX_28] with traps,[XIX_29] and with nets;[XIX_30] moreover, they often made use of bows and arrows, and understood the art of training falcons and hawks.[XIX_31]

Eastern princes amused themselves by hunting in parks where a great number of wild beasts were kept.[XIX_32] The Romans had too much{181} taste and money, and too great a desire to spend it, not to imitate this expensive and royal luxury. Fulvius Hirpinus possessed a park of forty acres near Viterbo, in Tuscany. Lucius Lucullus, and Quintus Hortensius hastened to create more beautiful ones, and they did not fail to have a host of imitators.[XIX_33]

By the Roman law, hunting was unrestricted:[XIX_34] only, no person could pursue game on another’s land without the owner’s permission.[XIX_35]

Besides the pleasure which this amusement afforded, the ancients, like ourselves, discovered profit in it; and the produce of their chase became one of the finest ornaments of their feasts. Isaac ordered his son Esau to go out with his weapons, his quiver and bow, and to prepare for him savoury meat, such as he loved (venison).[XIX_36] Solomon had stags, roebucks, and wild oxen served on his table every day.[XIX_37]

Cyrus, King of Persia, ordered that venison should never be wanting at his repasts.[XIX_38] Is it necessary to add that it was the delight of two nations the most gastronomic in the world?—of the effeminate Greeks, and more especially those Romans for whom the animals of the earth, ocean, and air were only to be valued in proportion to the impossibility of obtaining them in Europe, Asia, and Africa; an immense inheritance, conquered by noble ancestors, and which their degenerated sons ransacked for their satisfaction and insatiable gluttony.[XIX_39]

The English have always loved hunting—the favourite pastime of their kings.

Alfred the Great was not twelve years old when he had acquired the reputation of being a skilful and indefatigable hunter.[XIX_40]

The noble and the wealthy differed from the serfs by their singular taste for this royal diversion; and, in their pursuit of it, they spared neither pains nor expense in procuring those famous dogs of pure race which the ancient Greeks and Romans prized so highly. When Athelstan, Alfred’s grandson, had subdued Constantine King of Wales, he imposed an annual tribute. The vanquished monarch had to give him gold, silver, cattle, and, which is remarkable, a certain number of hawks, and dogs possessing a quick scent, and capable of unkenneling wild beasts.[XIX_41] Edgar, the successor of Athelstan, changed the tribute of money into an annual tribute of three hundred wolves’ skins.[XIX_42]

Notwithstanding his great piety, and the extreme reserve of his habits, Edward the Confessor took great delight in following the hounds, and exciting their ardour by his cries.[XIX_43]

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King Harold never appeared anywhere without his favourite hawk on his hand; neither was the approach of the British Nimrod announced otherwise than by the joyous barking of the royal pack.[XIX_44] Indeed, at that epoch, every person of distinction took the prince as his model, and gave himself up, heart and soul, to what people are pleased to call “the noble exercise of hunting.”

This aristocratic taste became so extremely prevalent under the domination of the Norman kings, that a writer of the twelfth century has judged it with great severity. “In our time,” he says, “hunting is considered as the most honourable occupation, the most excellent virtue. Our nobility show more solicitude, sacrifice more money, and make a greater parade in favour of it, than they would if the question were war. They are more furious in the pursuit of wild beasts, than they would be if they had to conquer the enemies of Great Britain. As a necessary consequence, they no longer retain any sentiment of humanity; they have descended almost to the level of the savage animals they are in the daily habit of tracking and unkenneling.”[XIX_45]