ie 
 
hey 
 
 ee re 
 
ne 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 \ 
 
 MCA 
 i iN 
 
 a 
 
 ey 
 
 WN 
 
 MEDITATIONS OF AN EPICURE. 
 
ESSAYS, 
 
 MORAL, PHILOSOPHICAL, ann STOMACHICAL, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 IMPORTANT SCIENCE 
 
 OF 
 
 GOOD-LIVING. 
 
 Dedicated to the Right Worshipful 
 
 THE COURT OF ALDERMEN. .: 
 
 By LAUNCELOT STURGEON, Esa. 
 
 Fellow of the Beef-Steak Club, and an Honorary Member oe Agha Foreign 
 Pic Nics, &¢. &e. &e. 
 
 “ Eat! drink! and be merry !—for to-morrow you die.” 
 iP 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 ' LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR G. anp W. B. WHITTAKER, 
 
 ¢ 
 . 4 
 AVE-MARIA LANE, LUDGATE STREET. . 
 
 1823. 
 
PRINTED BY WEED AND Phat 
 < ROY, ; 
 
 ’ ¢ 
 > ‘it 
 ' s 
 rs * 
 a ¥ eu 
 “ 2 
 ar ae 
 s is u 
 “i are 
 m ~ iT) 
 ey 7” 
 . 
 Vie 
 ~ 
 
TO THE 
 
 RIGHT WORSHIPFUL 
 THE COURT OF ALDERMEN 
 City of London, 
 Few See &c. 
 
 Ricut WorsHIPFUL AND WORTHY SIRS! 
 
 THe unanimous vote by which, at 
 your last general Court, you granted 
 permission that this work might be ad- 
 dressed to your august Body, and the 
 approbation you were graciously pleased 
 to bestow upon its design, while it con- 
 fers the highest honor on its author, 
 reflects the greatest credit on your own 
 discernment of the objects most worthy 
 
 qo 
 
V2 DEDICATION. 
 
 of your patronage. It must, indeed,. 
 prove gratifying to every friend of social 
 order to perceive, that neither the lapse 
 of ages, nor the revolution of opinions,. 
 has effected any change in your antique 
 attachment to those substantial interests: 
 which form the bases not only of that 
 great Corporation of which yow are the 
 distinguished ornaments, but’ of society. 
 = large : and that, while other institu- 
 tions, founded upon less solid princi- 
 ples, have sunk into decay, your vene- 
 rable community—supported by an un- 
 deviating adherence to the trencher and 
 the table, as well as the Church and 
 State—still flourishes in all its pristine 
 vigour. Nourished in these essential 
 elements and strengthened by their 
 
 constant application, you have acquired 
 
DEDICATION... vy 
 
 a degree of collective and individuat 
 weight that has rarely been attained, 
 and from which you have not degene- 
 rated since the days of those illustrious 
 fathers. of the: eorporation whose gi- 
 gantic statues adorn the portals of your 
 ancient Hall. While other titles are 
 eften but faithless indications of the 
 real character, that of ALDERMAN at 
 once announces a man endowed with 
 the most profound theoretic knowledge, 
 and: the most persevering practical ap- 
 plication, of the sound alimentary prin- 
 ciples of the constitution, united to a 
 firm reliance on that broad fundamen- 
 tal system which most conduces to our. 
 social happiness. 
 Nor are you less entitled to adorn 
 a 3 | 
 
V1 DEDICATION. 
 
 your brows with the laurel, than thé 
 civic, wreath; or any other ornament 
 with which your fellow-citizens may 
 have fortuitously decked them. The 
 annals of the City Trainbands can 
 boast of many a veteran commander, 
 and of many a long contested day, in 
 which, though hundreds have fallen, 
 not one was ever known to flee. The 
 days of your martial glory are, indeed, 
 no more: but the record of your - 
 achievements remains: ‘the pomp and 
 ‘* circumstance of glorious warfare,” 
 the ‘ marchings and the counter- 
 ‘‘ marchings, from Ealing to Acton 
 ‘‘ and from Acton to Ealing,’ which 
 at once conferred importance and ap- 
 petite, still live in our recollection, and 
 
 the dinners with which they were 
 
DEDICATION. Vi 
 
 closed, are hallowed by our regret. 
 Although, from having been all soldiers, 
 _ you are now become all, all legislators ; 
 although, from having commanded in 
 the van of regiments, you are reduced 
 
 to bring up the rear of cavalcades—in- 
 - stead of armies, to marshal funerals ;. 
 and although the sword cankers in the 
 scabbard and the lance hangs useless 
 on the wall, you have exchanged them 
 for more useful and not less mortal 
 weapons, and, in your hands, the knife 
 and fork shall yet bear ample witness 
 
 to your prowess, 
 
 This peaceful change has not, how- 
 ever, been accompanied by any corres- 
 ponding alteration in the blazonry of 
 
 your armorial shield; and the griffin 
 
Vili § ~~ DEDICATION. 
 
 and the dagger bear no analogy to 
 your present state. The anomaly has,. 
 - doubtless, escaped your attention ; for 
 I have observed that, at: your civic 
 feasts, not one among you has ever 
 raised his eyes from the table to. the 
 banners which float above: it; and 
 being, myself, a little skilled in he- 
 raldic lore, 1 shall, F trust, escape the 
 charge of presumption, if | offer a few 
 
 hints for your mature consideration... 
 
 The dagger was, no doubt, in days. 
 
 of yore— 
 
 ¢ 
 
 ——«—- A serviceable dudgeon, 
 Either for fighting or for drudging ; 
 
 ‘© When it had stabb’d, or broke a head, - 
 *« It could scrape trenchers, or chip bread ; 
 Toast cheese or bacon; though it were 
 
 nw 
 
 ¢ 
 
 ee 
 
 “« To bait a mouse-trap, ‘twou’d not care;” 
 
DEDICATION, ix 
 
 and was then, unquestionably, a most 
 suitable device; but having been su- 
 perseded, in its most important uses, 
 by the carving-knife, I would, very res- 
 pectfully, submit, that the latter should’ 
 be ‘borne in lieu of it, in the dexter 
 canton, trenchant. Instead of the grif- 
 fins, which are now obsolete, | would 
 propose, for supporters, a gander and a 
 turkey-cock ; the eloquence and saga- 
 city of the one, emblematic of the ora- 
 tory and wisdom of a common hall, 
 and the stately port and spreading 
 plumage of the other, typical of the 
 dignity and consequence of the Corpo- 
 ration; while its rosy gills could never 
 
 fail to remind us—of yourselves. 
 
 With regard to the motto, it Is evi-. 
 
x DEDICATION. 
 
 dent that the present “ Domne dirge 
 “‘ nos” however originally well meant 
 —has had very little influence on your 
 deliberations ; and I would, there- 
 fore, beg leave to suggest, that “Prius 
 “Guia quam Graprus* |”? would be ~ 
 both more classical, and far more ap 
 
 propriate. 
 
 I could enlarge on this interest- 
 ing topic, but the chimes of a neigh- 
 bouring church are just conveying the 
 joyous intelligence that my own hour of 
 dinner is approaching, and warn me 
 not to trespass upon yours. Careful to 
 
 avoid so unpardonable an error, | shall, 
 
 * If any objection should be. made to the 
 classical propriety of the Latin, it will, no doubt, 
 be duly discussed in the Common Couneil. » 
 
DEDICATION. Xi 
 
 therefore, only assure you of my most 
 unfeigned and ardent attachment to the 
 system you so ably support; and beg 
 you to accept of this effort of my la- 
 bours in the common cause, as a slight 
 testimony both of the admiration which 
 ‘I entertain for the capaciousness of 
 your stomachs as well as of your un- 
 derstandings, for the solidity of your 
 heads as well as of your principles, and 
 of the deep respect with which I have 
 the honor to be, | 
 
 Right Worshipful and worthy Sirs, 
 Your most devoted and obedient, 
 
 | Humble Servant 
 
 LAUNCt., STURGEON. 
 
 London, 
 December 24, 1821. 
 
 She 
 
GONPRNWS. 
 
 ERI 
 
 Introduction oe 89 @ 8 08 eoesteeeeee eos 8 @ 8 
 
 Moral Maxims and Reflecttons,..... 
 
 ESSAY I. 
 
 On the Advantages of giving Dinners, 
 and the Qualifications and Duties 
 of Amphyirions; with some interest- 
 ing Particulars of the illustrious 
 
 Count Zinzendorff ....... hat et see 
 
 ESSAY II. 
 
 Page. 
 
 On Modern Manners; containing Hints — 
 
 to Grown Gentlemen. ......ee0 06 
 
 ESSAY UL. 
 
 On the Theory and Practice of Dina- 
 
 _ tory Tactics .-3 (225.3. eee 2 
 
 34 
 
_ CONTENTS. 
 
 ESSAY IV. 
 
 On the Nature, the Intent, and the 
 Value of Invitations, ....5 
 
 e@eaeeo? 
 
 ESSAY V. 
 
 The Fatal Consequences of Pride con- 
 sidered in its Effects upon Dinners 
 
 ESSAY VI. 
 On Modern ichitectute. and the com- 
 
 | parative Miseries and Comforts of 
 PPMARO TLOOMES os co dx yes os use ss 
 
 ESSAY Vil. 
 On the Didsical and Political eee 
 
 WeeRCe-OF SAUCES Cag si ek sh ros eave 
 
 ESSAY VIII. 
 - On the Importance of forming Good 
 
 Connexions; and onthe Moral Qua- 
 littes of the Stomach, ss, esecees 
 
 xii 
 
 aD 
 
 66 
 
 (fi: 
 
 79 
 
 SZ 
 
X1V CONTENTS. 
 
 ESSAY IX. 
 
 On Mustard, philosophically consi- 
 dered; and on the Use of Garliek 
 as & Perfume. sss. .cin ee 
 
 ESSAY X. 
 
 On Roasting Beef, including Consi- 
 derations on its Domestic and Na- 
 tional Importance, with an entire 
 
 ‘New Plan for its Improvement,, 101 
 
 ESSAY XI. 
 
 On the Virtues, the Qualifications, and 
 the Consequence of the Ancient Fa- 
 mily of Hogs... senens tenancies LLC 
 
 ESSAY XIL ‘ 
 On Devils... .cscoee @¢neoe0e be 00009 122 
 
 ESSAY XIII. 
 On Coffee, and Liqueurs... eyyree01+ 190 
 
. «CONTENTS. XV 
 
 ESSAY XIV. 
 
 On the Nature and Properties of the 
 Braise; with a Concise Account of 
 tts Origin, and Application,,,,.. 144 
 
 ESSAY XV. 
 
 On the Philosophy of the Stomach ; 
 with Rules for the better Regulation 
 of Appetite and Digestion. ....... 157 
 
 ESSAY XVI. 
 
 On the Financial Importance of Teeth, 
 containing some Valuable Hints to 
 UNIT SECC oR Cr tA ea ces eee LOO 
 
 ESSAY XVII. 
 
 On Education, andthe Application of 
 
 the Science of Mnemonics ; together 
 
 with some Hints to Travellers, and 
 Public Societies, »eecccsey revere 106 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 ESSAY XVIII. 
 
 On the Qualifications of Cooks—the 
 Comparative Importance of the Mi- 
 litary and Culinary Arts — and 
 French Cooks: with some Account — 
 of the Life of the celebrated Watel 190 
 
 / 
 
 ESSAY XIX. 
 
 On the Health and the Morals of 
 Cooks—with some Important Rules 
 for the Conduct of Female Pro- 
 SeSSOLS, . ale ty hen Ra tee 202 
 
 TWELVE GoLDEN RuLes for Wo- 
 men-Cooks, to be hung up over every 
 Kitchen Chimney in the Kingdom 211 
 
 , te 
 
 CONCLUSION | 63 <4 4s cee enoeeo 9 217 
 
WIIA WS 
 
 MORAL, PHILOSOPHICAL, AND STOMACHICAL. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. | 
 
 sf 
 
 Tue pleasures of the table have ever 
 held a distinguished rank: amongst all 
 those which man experiences in a state 
 of society. It has been justly ob- 
 served, that they are the first of which 
 we are susceptible, the last that we quit, 
 and those that we can most frequently 
 enjoy: in spite of all the Stoics can 
 say, every one must admit, that a 
 stomach which is proof against all trials 
 is the greatest of all blessings ; and it 
 would be easy to demonstrate, that it 
 
 ‘B 
 
2 
 
 exercises an extended influence over 
 the moral destinies of life. 
 
 But, without involving ourselves in 
 the intricacy of metaphysical discus- 
 sions—which belong rather to philo- 
 sophy than to cookery, and are, besides, 
 injurious to digestion—we shall confine 
 ourselves to the more important object 
 of illuminating the paths of epicurism, 
 and guiding the votaries of good-cheer 
 through the labyrinth of enjoyment to 
 which they lead. 
 
 But ere we commence this pleasing 
 task, we must beg leave to enter our 
 most solemn protest against the indis- 
 criminate application of the terms: Ep- 
 curism and Gluttony ; which are but 
 too commonly applied synonymously, 
 
 with a degree of ignorance, or of ma- 
 
3 
 
 -lignity, worthy only of the grossness of 
 mere beef-eaters, or of the envy of weak 
 appetites. ! | 
 
 _ Hume being told by a lady, that she 
 had heard he was a great epicure— 
 ** No, madam,”’ replied the historian, 
 * T am only a glutton!’ Gluttony is, 
 in fact, a mere effort of the appetite, of 
 which the coarsest bolter of bacon in 
 all Hampshire may equally boast with 
 the most distinguished consumer of 
 turtle in a corporation; while Epi- 
 
 curism is the result of ‘“ that choicest 
 ‘s gift of Heaven,” a refined and discri- 
 minating taste: this the peculiar attri- 
 bute of the palate, that of the stomach. 
 It is the happy combination ef both 
 these enviable qualities that constitutes 
 that truly estimable character, the real 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 epicure. He is not only endowed by 
 nature with a capacious stomach and 
 an insatiate appetite, but with a delicate 
 susceptibility in the organs of degusta- 
 tion, which enables him to appreciate 
 the true relish of each ingredient in the 
 most compound ragout, and to detect 
 the slightest aberration of the cook; 
 added to which advantages, he possesses 
 a profound acquaintance with the rules 
 of art in all the most approved schools 
 of cookery, and an enlightened judg- 
 ment on their several merits, matured 
 by long and sedulous experience. In 
 him, all the senses should be in unison 
 with that of taste: his eye should be 
 penetrating, to direct him in the first 
 choice or rejection of what is before 
 
 him; his ear quick, to catch, from the 
 
5 
 farthest end of the table, the softest 
 whisper in praise of any particular dish; 
 his extended nostrils, uncontaminated 
 with snuff, should faithfully convey the 
 savoury intelligence of what surrounds 
 him ; and his ample tongue should di- 
 late each copious mouthful, both to 
 : protract the enjoyment of mastication 
 and to aid the powers of deglutition. 
 But the concentration of such various 
 perfections is rare: few men are able to 
 
 do equal justice to a dinner— 
 
 Ab ovo usque ad mala’ 
 
 from the soup to the coffee; that de- 
 mands a universality of taste, and a 
 profundity of judgment, which fall to 
 the lot of only some favoured indivi- 
 
 duals. Such gifted beings do, however, 
 B3 
 
6 
 
 exist: they are entitled to our highest | 
 respect ; and, whenever it is our good 
 fortune to meet them, we should en- 
 deavour to collect their opinions, and to 
 follow, at however humble a distance, 
 their splendid example. We have, our- 
 self, made this our constant study ; 
 and although the axiom that “no manis 
 ‘“‘ wise but through his own experience” 
 can never be more properly applied 
 than to the science of good-living, yet 
 are we not without hopes, that the la- 
 bours of a long life, incessantly directed 
 to that sole object, will not be without 
 profit to those who mean to devote 
 themselves to the same commendable 
 pursuit. We trust, too, that we shall 
 not be accused of unbecoming vanity, 
 
 or of unfounded pretensions, if we add, 
 
7 
 
 that our claims to the confidence of the 
 epicurean world are hereditary. 
 Descended from an opulent family, 
 settled for ages in the very heart of the 
 city of London, and which has given 
 more than one alderman to the corpo- 
 ration, our father was, himself, a dis- 
 tinguished member of the Fishmongers’ 
 Company, and many yearsdeputy for the 
 ward of Port-soken. He died gloriously 
 on the field of honour :—that is to say, 
 of an indigestion after a Lord Mayor’s 
 feast. Had he been merely an honor- 
 able or a good man, his name would 
 not deserve to occupy a place in this 
 work: but he was no common person : 
 he possessed a delicacy of palate, and 
 a superiority of tact in all that con- 
 cerned the table, which have been but 
 B4 
 
8 
 
 seldom approached, and never sur- 
 passed. His discernment was equally 
 various and unerring:: it extended over 
 every particle of aliment without ex- 
 ception : fish, flesh, fowl, game—whe- 
 ther furred or feathered,—fricassées, ra- 
 
 " goits, entremets and dessert, all passed | 
 in succession through the ordeal of his 
 jaws; and his opinion on each was as 
 _ just as decisive. Nor was he less emi- 
 nent in the important department of 
 the bottle: from imperial Tokay, or 
 royal Burgundy, to humble Port, he 
 was not to be deceived even in a vin- 
 tage; and the cellar which he left at 
 his death was the most glorious monu- 
 ment that could be erected to his me- | 
 mory. 
 
 Educated at such a table as his, daily 
 
9 
 
 | imbibing the precepts of such a pro- 
 ~ fessor along with the more solid ele- 
 ments of his art, and inheriting from 
 him, not alone his ample fortune, but 
 his disposition, also, to enjoy it—we 
 surely may be allowed some title to the 
 ‘© ed 10 anche’? of Michael Angelo, 
 We do not, indeed, affect to rival, so 
 much as to emulate, our illustrious 
 parent; nor have we altogether trusted 
 to our Own scavoir-vivre. An occa- 
 sional residence in Paris, while on a 
 gastronomic tour on the Continent, 
 has enabled us to appreciate the real 
 merits of French cookery, and French 
 wines; and to select from that very 
 erudite work, the ‘“ Almanach des 
 Gourmands,”’ those precrous receipts 
 which may more particularly stimulate 
 BO 
 
10 
 
 the powers of discriminating appetites. 
 Not that we pretend to present the 
 public with a system of cookery, or a 
 - dissertation on the juice of the grape: 
 far be from us any such ambitious aim : 
 that belongs to the pages of science, 
 and the research of successive ages: it 
 presents too vast a field for the expe- 
 rience of one short life; and while we 
 sincerely wish that its rich harvests 
 may be reaped by our readers, we 
 must ourself be content with the more 
 humble department of a mere gleaner. 
 Our present object, indeed, is rather to 
 inform the fresh-man than to add to 
 the experience of the rubicund pro- 
 fessor ; more to direct the taste, than to. 
 satisfy the palate. But we have culled 
 
 with care, not alone the receipts, but 
 
1t 
 
 the maxims also, of most essential use, 
 to which we have added the results of 
 
 - our OWN experience; reserving some 
 
 minor details, as a bonne-bouche for a 
 future occasion. Before, however, we 
 enter on the marrow of our subject, 
 we request particular attention to a few 
 fundamental principles, without which 
 all our instructions will be in vain; 
 and which, indeed, should form the 
 bases of the conduct of every man who 
 
 ‘places a just value on the interests of 
 
 his stomach. 
 
SMoral Maxims and Reflections. 
 
 As eating is the main object of life, 
 so, dining being the most important 
 action of the day, it is impossible to pay 
 too great attention to every thing which 
 has any affinity to it. 
 
 Itis convenient to dine late ; because, 
 the more trivial concerns of the morn- 
 ing being by that time despatched, all 
 our thoughts may then be concentrated 
 upon our plate, and our undivided at- 
 tention may be bestowed on what we 
 are eating. 
 
 A true epicure would as soon fast as 
 
 be obliged to hurry over a good dinner. 
 
13 
 
 Five hours are a reasonable time to 
 remain at table, when the dinner is 
 tolerable : but, as a well-bred man 
 never looks at his watch in company, 
 so, no man of sense ever regulates the 
 period of his sitting by aught but the 
 quality of the entertainment; and time 
 is never so well employed as in doing 
 justice to good-fare. 
 
 Punctuality is, in no transaction of 
 life, of such importance as in cookery : 
 three turns too many may spoil a 
 haunch: the critzcal minute is less dif- 
 ficult to be hit in the boudoir than in 
 the kitchen ; and every thing may be 
 put into a stew—except the cook. 
 
 He, therefore, who keeps dinner 
 waiting, commits an irreparable injury. 
 
 Even should he not have been waited 
 
14 
 
 for, yet, if he arrive after the company 
 have sat down, he disturbs the arrange- 
 ment of the table; occasions a useless 
 waste of time in empty compliments 
 and excuses; retards the first course ; 
 puts the removes in jeopardy ; and oc- 
 casions many troublesome distractions 
 from the great object at stake. Such 
 men should be looked upon as the com- 
 mon enemies of society. 
 
 As a fricassée of chickens cannot be 
 perfect if it consist of more than three, 
 so, a dinner of thorough amateurs 
 should never exceed ten covers. 
 
 Some people are alarmed if a salt- 
 cellar be overturned at table; and if 
 the company are thirteen in number. 
 The number is only to be dreaded when 
 the dinner is provided but for twelve ; 
 
15 
 
 and as for the salt, the main point is, 
 that it does not fall into a good dish. 
 
 ~ As every one’s attention should be 
 entirely given up to what is on the table, 
 and not to what surrounds 72t—ladies 
 should not expect particular notice un- 
 til the dessert is served ; the sex then 
 recovers all its rights, and its empire is 
 never less disputed. 
 
 Every thing has its value in this 
 world, and more especially a good din- 
 ’ ner. If then a guest cannot return the 
 obligation in kind, he should in some 
 other manner ; the most common is to 
 amuse the company when he cannot 
 regale them more substantially. This, 
 indeed, is paying in monkey’s coin ; but 
 it is current in London. 
 
 It is contrary to every acknowledged 
 
16 
 
 principle of moral rectitude, to speak 
 ill of the man at whose house you have 
 dined—during a space of tume propor- 
 tioned to the excellence of the fare. For 
 an ordinary dinner, a week is generally 
 sufficient ; and it can, in no case, ex- 
 ceed a month; at the expiration of 
 which time, the tongue is once more at 
 liberty. But it is always in the power 
 of the host to chain it again, by an invi- 
 tation given in due time: and of all the 
 modes to prevent slander, this has been 
 found the most efficacious; for, the 
 gratitude of an epicure having its source 
 in his stomach, there can be no doubt 
 of its sincerity, 
 
 It is commonly said, that new wine, 
 a family dinner, and a concert of ama- 
 
 teurs, are three things to be equally 
 
17 
 
 avoided. As to the concert, however, 
 one may go tosleep at it; and even new 
 wine is better than none; but a bad 
 dinner admits of no palliative: a man 
 May as well be starved as poisoned. 
 He, Ber efure. who invites you to take 
 pot-luck, is your enemy. However 
 specious his apparent motive, be assured 
 that he bears you some latent grudge, 
 or he would not attempt to do you so 
 wanton an injury; beware of such per- 
 -fidious friends :-— 
 
 “ Hic niger est, hunc tu, Romane! caveto.” 
 “‘ This man isvile ; here, Roman! fix your mark 
 3 y ’ 
 
 ‘« His sole is black.””——— 
 Francis’s Horace. 
 
 _ Fish, it has been remarked, should 
 
 swim three times—in water—in sauce 
 
18 
 
 —and in wine. It may be added, that 
 once it appears upon the table, it should 
 be sacred from steel; the man who 
 could touch turbot with a knife, would 
 feel no compunction at cutting your 
 throat. | ‘ j 
 
 It is the surest proof of a weak un- 
 derstanding, to waste the period of 
 action in frivolous conversation ; and a 
 man who is capable of such a misappli- 
 cation of time, will never rise in the 
 world :—wherefore, never enter into any 
 discussion until the second course be 
 removed, 
 
 As the greatest outrage that can be 
 committed, is, to interrupt a man in the 
 exercise of his jaws—never address an 
 observation, that requires an answer, 
 to any one whilst he is eating; and if 
 
19 
 
 any one put a question to you—unless 
 it be to ask you to take wine—reply to 
 him merely with a significant nod. If 
 he repeat it, he means to spoil your 
 dinner ; and, as that is an injury which 
 no one can be expected to forgive, you 
 _ may either resent it accordingly, or cut 
 his acquaintance. } 
 
 Digestion, is the affair of the sto- 
 mach: indigestion, that of the doctor ; 
 and the cure, that of chance. 
 
 It is better to pick full pockets than 
 empty teeth, 
 
ESSAY I. 
 
 ON THE ADVANTAGES OF GIVING DINNERS, 
 AND THE QUALIFICATIONS AND DUTIES 
 OF AMPHYTRIONS; WITH SOME INTEREST- 
 ING PARTICULARS OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS 
 
 COUNT ZINZENDORFF. 
 
 eS 
 
 _ Tue principles and the habits in 
 which we have been educated, lead us 
 
 to revere the institutions of society as | 
 they exist among us, and to pay to every 
 class that degree of respect to which it 
 1s generally considered as entitled: thus, 
 we venerate the clergy, honour the ma- 
 gistracy, look with deference to the 
 nobility, and with regard to our equals ; 
 but far above all do we esteem those 
 
 truly respectable persons who give din- 
 
St 
 ners. But we claim no peculiar merit 
 to ourselves in this ; for we must do the 
 public at large the justice to admit, that 
 no people appear to be held in such 
 general estimation as those who keep 
 what is termed ‘a good table.” And, 
 what proves that it is to that alone that 
 all their consideration is owing—when- 
 ever one of them ruins himself with 
 giving entertainments, itis instantly dis- 
 covered by those who never spoke of him 
 before but as ‘“‘a devilish pleasant, sen- 
 “sible, good, fellow”—that “ poor man ! 
 ‘che is really a great bore ;”—-and out 
 of twenty who were proud to call him 
 friend, scarcely one in a dozen will 
 deign to give him a nod of recognition. 
 If any giver of dinners doubts this, 
 
 let him only—instead of giving invita- 
 
22 
 
 tions—give out that he is completely 
 done up; put down his carriage, and 
 advertise his house and cellars to be 
 disposed of; then, about a fortnight 
 afterwards, let him stroll down Bond 
 Street in a thread-bare coat, with an 
 embarrassed air and an unassured step, 
 and he will find—that when his triends 
 can no longer cut his mutton, they will 
 cut him. It is, therefore, manifestly 
 the interest of those who wish to ac- 
 quire, and to maintain, an influence in 
 society, to give frequent and good din- 
 ners. The politician who is striving to 
 get into power, or he already in office 
 who wishes to keep his place ; the doc- 
 tor who wants patients, and the lawyer 
 who wants clients; the poet who Is an- 
 
 xious for praise, and the Creesus who is 
 
23 
 
 desirous of being known, have no means 
 so infallible to secure their object ; and 
 it has been demonstrated, that no play 
 would ever be damned, if the author 
 could but afford to give a dinner to 
 the pit. | 
 Thus the most glorious part that a 
 man can play in this world is that of an 
 Amphytrion. But, like other distin- 
 guished stations, it is difficult to be 
 maintained with eclat: money alone is 
 not sufficient to keep a good table, and 
 one may spend a fortune and yet give 
 execrable parties, while another with 
 only a moderate income, shall give 
 famous dinners. It is, in fact, far easier 
 to acquire a fortune rapidly, than to 
 learn how to spend it scientifically. To 
 
 become a thorough Ampbhytrion, a man 
 
24 
 
 should pass through all his degrees, froni 
 that of B.A. or amateur of banquets, 
 up to D.D. or donor of dinners. He 
 should, besides, have a natural talent 
 for eating: not that undiscriminating 
 kind of beef and mutton appetite that 
 belongs to the vulgar, but that delicacy 
 of palate which is the attribute of real 
 genius: then he should have been edu- 
 cated in the sound principles of good 
 cheer at a first-rate table; and he should 
 have all the faculties, both natural and — 
 acquired, which we have already enu- 
 merated as distinguishing an accom: 
 plished epicure. And here we cannot 
 refrain from doing justice to the 
 memory of one of the greatest men of 
 the last age; who has, indeed, been 
 
 already often mentioned in history, as a 
 
25 
 
 statesman, but whose more brilliant 
 qualities, as a host, have been passed 
 over with that ingratitude which ever 
 attends the memory of past dinners. 
 Lewis, Count Zinzendorff, one of the 
 ministers of the Emperor Charles VI., 
 kept the most elegant, as well as the 
 most profuse, table in all Vienna.  A\l- 
 though formed to shine with distin- 
 - guished lustre in the cabinet, yet he 
 was less jealous of his reputation there, 
 than of that more solid renown which 
 he might acquire by giving the most 
 splendid entertainments of any minister 
 in Europe. He was equally acquainted 
 with Asiatic and European luxury : his 
 curries rivalled those of the great Mo- 
 gul; his olios exceeded those of Spain ; 
 his pastry was more delicate than that 
 
 C 
 
 Me = 
 x 
 
26 
 
 of Naples; his macaroni was made by 
 the Grand Duke’s cook; his liver-pies 
 were prepared at Strasburgh and Tou- 
 louse, and his Périgueux patés, were 
 really brought from thence ; nor was 
 there in any country a grape of the 
 least repute, but a sample of it in wine 
 was, for the honour of its vineyards, to 
 be found on his sideboard. Hiskitchen 
 was an epitome of the universe; for 
 there were cooks in it of all nations, 
 and rarities from every quarter of the 
 globe. ‘To collect these, he had agents 
 appointed in each place of any note for 
 its productions: the carriages on which 
 they were laden, came quicker and-more 
 regularly than the posts ; and the ex- 
 penses of the transport of his dinners 
 
 ran higher than those for secret corres- 
 
27 
 
 pondence. In his general conversation, 
 the Count was cautious: in his con- 
 ferences with other ministers, he was 
 reserved : but at his table all this state 
 machinery was thrust aside: there he 
 discoursed at large, and delivered the 
 most copious and’ instructive lectures 
 on all his exotic and domestic delica- 
 cies ; and here no professor was ever 
 less a plagiary. He had this pillau 
 from Prince Eugene, who had it from 
 the Bashaw of Buda; the egg-soup was 
 made after a receipt of the Duke de 
 Richelieu ; the roan-ducks were stewed 
 in the style of the Cardinal du Bois ; 
 and the pickled-lampreys came froma 
 ereat minister in England. His dishes 
 furnished him with a kind of chrono- 
 jogy: his water-souchy was borrowed 
 og 
 
28 
 from Marshal d’Auverquerque’s table, 
 when he was first in Holland ; the par- 
 tridge stuffed with mushrooms and 
 stewed in wine, was a discovery made 
 by that prince of good livers, the Duke 
 de Vendome, during the war of the 
 succession ; and the Spanish Puchero 
 was the only solid result of the nego- 
 tiation with Riperda. In short, with 
 true Apicean eloquence, he generously 
 instructed the novices in the arts of 
 good living ; and, as Solomon discoursed 
 of every herb, from the cedar of Leba- 
 non to the hyssop on the wall, so, he 
 began with a champignon no bigger 
 than a Dutchman’s waistcoat button, 
 and ended with a wild boar, the glory 
 of the German forest. 
 
 There was always an hour in his 
 
29 
 
 public days when he was totally inac- 
 cessible. The politicians were asto- 
 nished at a retirement for which they 
 could assign no reason, until an inqui- 
 sitive foreigner, by giving a large gra- 
 tuity to one of his servants, was let 
 into the secret. Being placed in a 
 closet between the chamber of audience 
 and the room where the Count was, he 
 saw him seated in an elbow chair : 
 when, preceded by a page with a cloth 
 on his arm and a drinking glass, one of 
 his domestics appeared, who presented 
 a salver with many little pieces of bread, 
 elegantly disposed ; and was followed 
 by the first cook, who, on another 
 salver, had a number of small boats 
 filled with as many different kinds of 
 gravy. His Excellency then, tucking his 
 c3 
 
30 
 napkin in his cravat, first washed and 
 gargled his mouth, then dipped a piece 
 of bread successively into each of 
 the sauces, and having tasted it with 
 much deliberation, carefully rincing his 
 palate after every one, to avoid confu- 
 
 sion, heat length, with inexpressible 
 
 sagacity, decided on the destination of , 
 
 them all. 
 
 «« He was indeed a host! take him for all in all, 
 « We ne'er shall look upon his like again.”’ 
 
 But were a man endowed with all 
 the talent, the science, and the expe- 
 rience of the Count, together with that 
 other equally indispensable qualification 
 ——his fortune, he should still possess that 
 penetration and tact in the selection of 
 the company whom he means to invite 
 
 ‘together, and that nice discernment in 
 
 eg ee 
 
31 
 
 the arrangement of their places at 
 dinner, without which it is impossible 
 to form a pleasant party. Out of the 
 five hours which we pass at table, we 
 seldom employ more than two in eat- 
 ing; and when we can at length turn 
 our attention from our plate to our 
 neighbour, nothing is more annoying 
 than to find oneself seated next to some 
 one who has no ideas in common with 
 us, or who will not communicate those 
 —if any—of which he is in exclusive 
 possession. One might as well be in 
 the situation of a friend of ours,—an 
 amateur landscape painter,—who adver- 
 tised for an agreeable companion in a 
 post chaise to Edinburgh, and was joined 
 by amountain of aman, whose enormous 
 bulk wedged the unfortunate dilettante 
 c 4 
 
32 
 
 into a corner of the carriage, and who 
 proved to be a Newcastle collier, with- 
 out a single thought that did not centre 
 ina coal mine. 
 
 Our readers will perceive, from this 
 slight sketch, that it is not so easy a 
 matter to ruin oneself with credit, as 
 they might have imagined. But if any 
 one among them feels that irresistible 
 impulse, which is the sure indication 
 - of true nobility of soul, to run the 
 glorious career of an Amphytrion, and 
 wishes, not only to go through it with 
 reputation, but to protract it beyond the 
 ordinary limits—let him apply the 
 hints he will find in our fifth and sixth 
 essay ; let him, instead of confiding in 
 ignorant butlers and knavish cooks, 
 
 trust to no nose or palate but his own ; 
 
* 33 
 
 and keep as strict an account of the 
 wines in his cellar, as he does of the 
 cash at his Bankers—when he has any— 
 and he will go far to solve the problem 
 that Harpagon’s steward proposed to 
 Maitre Jaques*, which no cook, either 
 past or present, has ever clearly under- 
 stood, and which will probably always 
 remain an enigma to them—that of 
 providing good dinners with little 
 
 money. 
 
 * See the Avare of Moliere. 
 
 ¢ 5 
 
ESSAY IL. 
 ON MODERN MANNERS; CONTAINING HINTS 
 TO GROWN GENTLEMEN. 
 
 ee ed 
 
 Tue poor Irish are said to be more 
 in want of breeches than bibles; and 
 some people may think, that dinners 
 are more wanting than directions how 
 toeat them. But this, though a pre- 
 valent, is a very erroneous idea; and 
 as the bible society, -very properly, 
 provide for the latter end of our 
 neighbours with gospel rather than 
 corderoy, so, we deem it our duty to 
 whet the appetite of our readers, but 
 by no means to fill their stomachs. 
 We trust, however, that we shall not 
 
 be considered guilty of the presump- 
 
35 
 tion of my Lord Chesterfield, (who 
 
 seems to have written his principles 
 of politeness for the instruction of 
 footmen rather than of their masters, ) 
 if we address a few friendly hints to 
 those gentlemen, whose occasional dis- 
 tractions at table render them some- 
 times suspected of not having always 
 breathed the atmosphere of fashion. 
 
 In the first place, we shall suppose 
 you, though perhaps not quite at home 
 in Portman or Grosvenor Squares, yet 
 sufficiently aufait to the usages of good 
 society, to be neither much dazzled 
 at the splendor of fashionable apart- 
 ments, nor greatly alarmed at finding 
 yourself in the immediate vicinity of 
 ‘¢ titled folk ;°’ and then, with atten- 
 tion to the few following rules, you 
 
 c6 
 
36 
 
 may at least pass muster in a large 
 party without being remarked | for 
 awkwardness or il-breeding. 
 
 To commence with your entrance 
 into the drawing room—don’t stand 
 bowing at the door, as if you had a 
 petition to present; but stride confi- 
 dently up to the lady of the house, 
 and so close before you make your 
 obeisance, that you nearly thrust your 
 head into her face. 
 
 When dinner is announced—if you 
 should follow a lady to. the dining 
 room,’ don’t tread upon her train, nor 
 step back, to avoid it, upon the toes 
 of her behind you; and if it should 
 be your lot to hand one to her seat— 
 endeavour to avoid tumbling over the 
 
 chairs in your hurry to place her. 
 
37 
 
 - When seated—don’t stare up at the 
 _ lamps, as if you were an oilman calcu- 
 lating their contents ; but look inqui- 
 sitively round the table, and if you 
 have got an eye glass—which, by the 
 bye, isa great help to gentility—apply 
 it steadily to the object that is nearest 
 to you: those at a distance require no 
 such help. 
 
 Whatever may be your inclination, 
 cautiously abstain from being helped a 
 second time from the same dish: a 
 man’s character has been damned in 
 society in consequence of being stig- 
 matized as “‘ one of those fellows who 
 call twice for soup !”’ 
 
 If you should happen to be seated 
 next to some country acquaintance— 
 
 don’t let former recollections betray 
 
# 
 
 38 
 
 you into asking him to hobnob: it is 
 tantamount to a public declaration that 
 you are a Goth. 
 
 If the wine should be on the table, 
 
 and your neighbour should offer to— 
 
 help you—don’t cant up your glass 
 to prevent his filling it: and don’t 
 let your own eagerness to help the lady 
 next you, induce you to enter into com- 
 
 petition with the gentleman on her 
 
 other side, and thus bring the decanters 
 
 into collision, and smash them. 
 
 Drink your wine instead of spilling 
 it on the table cloth; and if either 
 yourself, or any other booby, should 
 overturn his own or his neighbour’s 
 half-filled glass—don’t display your 
 chemical knowledge by covering the 
 stain with salt. 
 
39 
 
 When constrained to speak, abridge 
 all superfluous words as a waste of 
 valuable time: thus, if you wish to 
 take wine with any one, instead of 
 making a formal request to that effect, 
 just bend the body quietly, and merely 
 say,—‘* honour of some wine ?”’ and if 
 the same broken sentence be addressed 
 to you, make no reply ; but gently bob 
 your head and fill your glass. But, 
 
 If either want of appetite, or want of 
 sense, should lead you into a warm dis- 
 cussion during dinner—don’t gesticu- 
 late with your knife in your hand, as if 
 you were preparing to cut your antago- 
 nist’s throat. 
 
 If you should, aratiiay, be forced 
 to carve,—neither labour at the joint, 
 
 until you put yourself into a heat, and 
 
40 
 
 hack it so that one might with justice 
 exclaim, ‘‘ mangling done here !”? nor 
 make such a desperate effort to dissect 
 it, as may put your neighbours in fear of 
 their lives. However, if an accident 
 should happen, make no excuses, for 
 they are only an acknowledgment of 
 awkwardness. We remember to have 
 seen a man of high fashion deposit a 
 turkey in this way in the lap of a lady ; 
 but, with admirable composure, and 
 without offering the slightest apology, 
 he finished a story which he was telling 
 at the same time, and then, quietly 
 turning to her, merely said—‘* Madam, 
 Pll thank you for that turkey.” 
 
 If any one ask for some of the dish 
 before you—don’t help him as you 
 would like to be helped yourself; but 
 
41 
 
 _ take that opportunity to show your 
 breeding at his expense, and send him 
 about as much as your sister gives to 
 her favourite kitten. 
 
 Drink no malt liquor: if you have 
 the least pretension to epicurism, you 
 will find better employment for your 
 
 _ stomach ; and if. not, it betrays vulgar 
 
 _ habits. | 
 
 dt formerly was considered Palred 
 to affect a certain indifference for the 
 fare before you; but fashion has ac- 
 quired more candour; and there is 
 now no road to the reputation of a 
 man of ton, so sure as that of des- 
 canting learnedly on the composition 
 of every dish, If you have ever been 
 in France—were it only to travel by 
 
 the Diligence from Dieppe to Rouen 
 
42 
 
 and back—it affords you a famous _ 
 opportunity to praise French _cook- 
 ery; and if you wish to appear 
 particularly well informed, endeavour 
 to recollect the names and ingredients 
 of a few rare dishes, such as, Cételettes 
 a la purée de bécasses, Rognons au vin 
 de Champagne, Dindes aux truffes, 
 &c.; but beware of your nomencla- 
 ture; and take care not to torture 
 his most Christian Majesty’s French, 
 with your own Cockney pronunciation. 
 Nothing partakes more of the very 
 essence of high-breeding, than a non- 
 chalant disregard of every thing but 
 your own comfort: therefore, when 
 finger glasses are brought, not only 
 rince your mouth, but gargle your 
 
 throat, just as if you were in your 
 
43 
 ‘dressing-room; and if you have got 
 good teeth, you may take that oppor- 
 tunity to admire them in the mirror of 
 your tooth-pick-case. 
 
 So also, when the ladies have retired, 
 and you are at length relieved from 
 all etiquette, clap both your hands 
 into your breeches pockets, and stretch. 
 yourself out in your chair, as if you 
 had just awoke from a long nap: there 
 is no other limit to the extent to which 
 you may advance your legs, but that 
 of not breaking the shins of your 
 opposite neighbour. 
 
 In fine, if you wish to acquire the 
 character of a thorough-bred man of 
 ton, you must affect—even if it should 
 not be natural to you— the most 
 
 decided egotism, and total want of 
 
44 
 
 feeling: laugh at the distresses of your 
 friends, and pretend not to understand 
 those of the public; term all those 
 whom you consider, or whom you wish 
 to be thought, beneath you, the canaille, 
 the plebs, and the mob ; and talk as if 
 you considered it a matter of course, 
 
 that all men, of a certain class, drink 
 
 claret, keep horses, have an intrigue, 
 
 and have fought, or are ready to fight, 
 a duel: but be very cautious how you 
 allow the latter point to be brought to 
 
 the test In your own person. 
 
 _ > 
 
ESSAY III. 
 
 \ 
 
 ON THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF 
 DINATORY TACTICS. 
 
 = 
 
 Or all the actions of life, dining is 
 that which we perform with the greatest 
 alacrity.. The table is a centre which 
 attracts around it men of the most op- 
 posite characters and dispositions ; and 
 although some affect to hold it in con- 
 tempt, they all equally submit to its in- 
 fluence. The portly vicar, who rails in 
 the pulpit against sensual indulgence, 
 walks straight home to a comfortable 
 dinner, and scolds the cook if it be not 
 done to aturn. The doctor, who ex- 
 claims against luxury as the root of all 
 
 disorders, sits four hours at table, eats 
 
46 
 
 of every dish, and never flinches a 
 bumper. The M.P.’s, who so patheti- 
 cally deplore the miseries of starvation, 
 that you would think they had not 
 broken their own fast for the last eight- 
 and-forty hours, have just arranged their 
 speech while swallowing’ beef-steaks 
 and claret at Bellamy’s ; and ministers 
 decide upon sehemes of retrenchment 
 at cabinet dinners of three courses. 
 The judge, who condemns a starving 
 culprit for stealing aloaf, and lectures 
 him to boot on the enormity of his 
 offence, hurries from the bench lest the 
 haunch that awaits him should be 
 
 spoiled ; and— 
 * Wretches hang that Jurymen may dine.” 
 
 In short, a coquette would rather re- 
 
47 
 
 nounce the pleasure of being admired ; 
 “a poet that of being praised; a tailor 
 that of cheating ; or a dandy that of 
 getting into his debt—parsons would 
 sooner abandon their tythes, and law- 
 yers and physicians their fees—nay, a 
 bailiff would sooner let you out of his 
 clutches without a bribe, than seven- 
 eighths of the inhabitants of London | 
 would forego a good dinner. 
 A tender assignation, a marriage, or 
 a funeral, may generally be put off with- 
 out much inconvenience, and often with 
 advantage. The assignation may end 
 in swinging damages; the marriage 
 would sometimes be ‘“‘ more honoured 
 ‘‘ in the breach than in the observ- 
 ‘ ance;’? and as for the funeral, no 
 
 one ever yet complained of not being 
 
48 
 
 buried. Even a battle, on which the 
 fate of a nation may depend, had better — 
 sometimes be deferred—as every man 
 to be engaged in it will tell you. But. 
 if, by some unlooked-for accident, din- 
 ner be only retarded a single hour be- 
 yond that appointed, how every visage 
 lengthens ; how the most animated con- 
 versation flags of a sudden; how every 
 one’s aspect becomes clouded, and every 
 eye is instinctively turned towards the 
 door. And when, at length, that is 
 opened by the butler with the joyful 
 intelligence that ‘‘ dinner is on the 
 ‘¢ table !” what a talismanic effect does 
 not that single sentence instantly pro- 
 duce: it restores serenity, gaiety, and 
 wit; every heart beats with expecta- 
 
 tion; and no bridegroom ever betrayed 
 
49 
 
 greater impatience to fly to the arms of 
 his bride, than the guests do to take 
 
 possession of their plates. 
 
 But this moment of general exulta- 
 
 tion is one that demands the greatest 
 
 circumspection ; for on that depends all 
 
 ‘your future happiness; that is to say, | 
 
 your comfort during the whole period 
 of dinner, Endeavour therefore to 
 command your. feelings, and retain 
 
 possession of all your sang-froid, that 
 
 you may be enabled to decide with 
 
 judgment upon that most important 
 point of good eeneralship—the selec- 
 tion of the ground on which the battle 
 is to be fought—in other words, the 
 choice of your seat. ‘The instant yeu 
 
 enter the dining parlour, throw a seru- 
 
 tinizing eye over the whole scene of 
 
 D 
 
00 
 
 operations, and determine the point of 
 attack with the promptitude and decision 
 of a veteran, Avoid the vicinity of 
 large dishes: but, above all, sedulously 
 shun the perilous distinction of being 
 seated next the mistress of the house, 
 unless you choose to incur the risk of 
 being forced to waste your most pre- 
 cious moments in carving for others 
 instead of for yourself. Never could it 
 be more truly said than on such an oc- 
 casion, that ‘“‘the post of honour isa 
 ** place of danger.” _ 
 
 Yet, as it is the peculiar attribute of 
 superior minds to change events ap- 
 parently the most unpropitious into real 
 advantages, should your untoward fate 
 force you into that fnenviable station, 
 
 or ensconce you behind a joint, a tur- 
 
al 
 
 key, or a goose, let not a mistaken 
 notion of politeness induce you to part 
 with all the choice bits before you help 
 yourself. Endeavour to. rise above 
 sueh prejudices, of which weak minds 
 are alone the dupes; and turn a deaf 
 ear to every request for any particular 
 part on which you may have set your 
 own inclination. We: remember to 
 have dined, some years ago, with a 
 country corporation ; a very prominent 
 member of which was placed opposite 
 to anoble haunch of venison, which, 
 as may easily be supposed, was in uni- 
 versal request. He carved it with an 
 alacrity, and disposed of it with a de- 
 gree of good humour that was truly 
 magnanimous ; until asleek, red-faced 
 gentleman in a bhob-wig, at the other - 
 
 p 2 
 
52 
 end of the table, sent his plate, a second 
 time, for another slice of fat: to which 
 our friend, eyeing him with some dis- 
 dain, replied, “ Another slice of fat, 
 ‘¢ Sir! hum !—pray, Sir, do you sup- 
 ‘* pose that a man is to take the trouble 
 ‘¢ of carving such a joint as this here, 
 ‘¢ and not to retain a morsel for him- 
 ‘* self ?—another slice of fat, indeed !— 
 “ no, Sir !—there is but one slice left 
 ‘* that is worth eating, and you cannot — 
 ‘¢ be so unconscionable as to expect it.” 
 Whereupon he very composedly helped 
 himself to what remained. — His con- 
 duct was very generally applauded : 
 and, for our own part, we conceived the 
 highest opinion of his judgment, and 
 have ever since held him in the greatest 
 
 respect. 
 
93 
 
 We are all liable to error, and al- 
 though a real epicure is rarely guilty of 
 keeping dinner waiting, it may yet hap- 
 pen that he, unconsciously, arrive late ; 
 in which case, he is probably reminded 
 of his transgression, by hearing the 
 lady of the mansion exclaim, ere he be 
 well announced—‘* John, you may de- 
 “ sire the cook to send up dinner now!” 
 with a peculiar emphasis on the last 
 word. Should that unfortunately hap- 
 pen to you, your most prudent course 
 will be, not to affect to notice it; make 
 no excuses, for they will not be cre- 
 dited, and may rather aggravate than 
 allay the irritation you have excited ; 
 in short, let the storm blow over. But 
 we advise you not to approach the fair 
 enragée ; for your reception will cer- 
 
 <. d3 
 
54 
 
 tainly be as cold as the dinner you have 
 delayed. Make your bow a la distance*, 
 and wait until the middle of the second 
 course before you attempt to address 
 her; you may then ask her to take 
 wine ; and, should there be champagne 
 on the sideboard, you may confidently 
 expect your pardon. 
 
 We have mentioned the second 
 course, on the presumption that you 
 never accept of invitations to any other 
 than such dinners—when you can get 
 them. As to those houses where one 
 finds nothing but the family joint, the 
 bare idea of which makes us shudder 
 ——a man had better swallow one of his 
 
 own legs than put his foot into them. 
 
 * « A-la-distance’’—modern French, lately im- 
 ported, and quite as good as that usually spoken 
 in London. 
 
ESSAY IV. 
 
 ON THE NATURE, THE INTENT, AND THE 
 VALUE OF INVITATIONS. 
 
 Ir has been profoundly observed by 
 a philosopher of deep penetration, 
 “that the difficulty is not so great in 
 
 ‘‘ eating a good dinner, as in getting 
 ‘it ;”? and the justness of the remark 
 has been generally felt. The subject of 
 imvitations is, therefore, of too great 
 importance to be passed over in silence, 
 It offers indeed, nearly equal difficul- 
 ties to both the givers and the receivers. 
 The former, led away by the warmth 
 of their feelings during the circulation 
 of the bottle, are too apt to offer im- 
 D 4 
 
56 
 
 promptu invitations, of which they 
 repent on reflection; or, they are ex- 
 posed to find the engagement over- 
 looked by some of those thus lightly in- 
 vited, their dinner spoiled in waiting for 
 them, and their table only half filled. 
 While the latter, accepting them with 
 equal want of consideration, are not. 
 unfrequently caught in the snare of 
 a family dinner, for which they. per- 
 haps undergo the further mortification. 
 of having declined a regular party ; 
 or, on arriving full-dressed at the ap- 
 pointed hour, find the house as dark 
 _as Erebus, and, after thundering for 
 half. an hour at the door, are at length 
 informed by some wondering booby, 
 who has first duly reconnoitred them 
 
 from the area, that ‘‘ Master dines out.” 
 
57 
 
 To obviate these mutual disappoint- 
 ments, it should be a fixed rule with 
 all Amphytrions, never to ask any one 
 to dinner but through the. medium 
 of a card, penned in the morning, 
 fasting, after as mature reflection, and 
 as much hesitation, as if it were an 
 invitation to Chalk Farm; and they 
 should require as categorical a reply. 
 It sometimes, however, will happen, 
 that country friends, quite unaware of 
 the importance attached to the regu- 
 larity of a London dinner-party, will 
 only return for answer, ‘‘ Pil come if 
 I can?—that is, (well understood) if 
 nothing more agreeable occurs: but if 
 to this be made the retort courteous, 
 *‘ then I shall not expect you,” it will 
 
 DO 
 
58 
 
 be generally found to produce an im- 
 mediate and unequivocal acceptance. 
 
 As to the receiver, he should be 
 quite as cautious in accepting an invi- 
 tation, as if it were a bill of exchange. 
 It should be in due form, and at a pro- 
 per date and hour. If it be a first en- 
 gagement, he should warily enquire 
 into the credit of the party’s dinners ; 
 and if that dees not stand high, he 
 should refuse acceptance as peremp- 
 torily as his banker would to his own 
 draft without funds. As toa general 
 invitation, where the day is not fixed, 
 nothing more is meant by it than mere 
 empty politeness; just as a man tells 
 you to command his services, or to make 
 
 his house your own. But if you have 
 
59 
 
 a pique against him, it affords you a 
 glorious occasion to indulge it, by 
 taking him at his word, and naming 
 the day yourself. You must in that 
 case, however, take care not to let 
 him off; for you may be assured that 
 he will afterwards be upon his guard, 
 and never afford you another oppor- 
 tunity. Indeed, they who the sel- 
 domest give real dinners, are always _ 
 the most forward to press this kind of 
 Invitation with an apparent cordiality 
 that is often mistaken for genuine: 
 it at once satisfies their vanity, and 
 lays you-under a kind of undefined 
 obligation, without putting themselves 
 to the slightest inconvenience ; and 
 so general is it, that we only recollect 
 one instance, within our own expe- 
 D6 
 
60 . 
 
 rience, of frank inhospitality. This 
 was some years since, when on a 
 tour through Holland, in search of the 
 real water-souchy. We were furnished 
 with letters of introduction to an emi- 
 nent merchant in Amsterdam, who 
 always received us with the greatest 
 courtesy. We think we see him now— 
 dressed in a single-breasted snufi-co- 
 loured coat, buttoned. close up to a 
 narrow. stock; black calamanco waist- 
 coat and breeches, worsted stockings, | 
 high square toed shoes, closed with 
 a pair of small but solid silver buckles ; 
 a powdered tye wig and ample 
 cocked hat shading his broad un- 
 ruffled features, and a massive gold 
 headed cane duly held directly under 
 his double chin. He was the very 
 
61 
 
 prototype of personal comfort; and 
 his dwelling (so far as we could judge 
 without having penetrated beyond the 
 counting-house). appeared a fit abode 
 for such a master. We confess, that | 
 we did speculate somewhat upon as- 
 certaining the truth of our conjecture, 
 by a closer inspection; nor were we 
 without hopes of meeting there with 
 the object of our research. This ex- 
 pectation was raised almost to certainty, 
 when, on calling one day upon him, 
 he, with his usual placid smile, thus 
 _ addressed us :—‘‘ Mr. Sturgeon, [am 
 ‘¢ most happy to see you; always happy 
 ‘¢ to see my friends; and if there is 
 ‘¢ any thing in my power to serve you, 
 ‘you may,command me; but—you 
 
 “‘ would oblige me by choosing some 
 
62 
 
 ‘¢ other time for calling—as this happens 
 «to be my dinner hour.” He then 
 most politely saw us to the door. But 
 his countrymen made ample amends ; 
 and gratitude obliges us to acknow- 
 ledge, that to their hospitality we owed 
 three of the severest indigestions we 
 ever experienced. 
 
 It is not alone of the insincerity of 
 invitations that we have to complain. 
 Even when your host has got over his 
 selfish reluctance to entertain you, and 
 you are fairly seated at his table; if 
 towards the close of dinner, there 
 should happen to be a joint yet uncut, 
 an undissected turkey, or a virgin pye, 
 with what tremulous apprehension does 
 his lady ask if you will be helped to 
 
 some! And when, about an hour after 
 
63 
 “the women” have retired, and you are 
 just beginning to cotton comfortably to 
 your wine, the butler announces the 
 hated intelligence, that ‘coffee is ready,” 
 how faintly are you pressed to partake 
 of another bottle! In law, no tender 
 is valid unless: it be made in actual cash : 
 and so at table, no offer should be con- 
 sidered sincere, unless the article be 
 produced en natwra—the meat dissected, 
 and the wine decanted. There can be 
 no good reason why a man’s stomach 
 should be defrauded by an illusory offer 
 any more than his purse ; and we are 
 quite sure that there is not a sound law- 
 yerin Westminster Hall, who would be 
 of acontrary opinion. We have, in- 
 deed, heard some eminent counsel de- 
 
 clare, that it is an indictable offence; 
 
64 
 and that persons who are guilty of such 
 frauds, should be placed by the legisla- 
 ture on the same footing with the 
 utterers of base coin. 
 
 But if we feel indignant at the hol- 
 lowness of general invitations, we are 
 equally shocked at the little regard paid 
 to the substantial tender of a precise 
 engagement. The extreme levity of 
 the young people of the present age, 
 makes them attach too little consequence 
 to nutritive invitations; they even affect 
 to consider the obligation’ on either | 
 side as equal; and pretend that the 
 ephemeral honor of their company is 
 an equivalent. for the solid advantages 
 of a good dinner. ‘This is the effect of 
 the modern philosophy, which is cor-— 
 
 rupting the hearts and turning the 
 
65 
 
 heads of the rising generation ; and is 
 even undermining the corporation din- 
 ners and parish feasts.. Unlike our an- 
 cestors, amongst whom a grand enter- 
 tainment was talked of for a month be- 
 fore-hand ; its digestion was not com- 
 pleted within a week ; and the visits to 
 the host, dictated by the gratitude of 
 his guests, occupied the following fort- 
 night. Either a ‘man’s principles or 
 his stomach must be very unsettled, 
 who is insensible to the real value of 
 the pleasures of the table ; and we may 
 be assured, that no constitution stands 
 so much in need of radical reform, as 
 that of him who can view a good din- 
 ner with indifference, or repay it with 
 ingratitude. 
 
ESSAY V. 
 
 THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF PRIDE CON- 
 SIDERED IN ITS EFFECTS UPON DINNERS. 
 
 Tue old adage, “that the eyes are 
 ‘bigger than the stomach,” may be 
 applied to many an Amphytrion as well’ 
 as school-boy. Actuated by a silly 
 vanity, they sacrifice every thing to 
 parade ; give a dinner for twenty to 
 eight or ten, and thus become unable 
 to entertain their friends so often as they 
 otherwise might. Whereas, he who 
 consults his guests gastric rather than 
 their optical faculties, will be enabled 
 
 to give ten dinners instead of three. 
 
In vain domestic economy endea- 
 vours to turn what is left to account 
 during the remainder of the week. 
 Pride is the declared enemy of true 
 pleasure; and Boileau has justly re- 
 marked— . 
 
 **Qu’un diner réchauffé ne valut jamais rien.” 
 
 This, however, is not the only error 
 into which their ostentation leads them: 
 a too copious dinner is a trespass which 
 may be readily pardoned ; and however 
 it may injure the host, his guests will 
 view it with indulgence. But solid en- 
 joyment is immolated to the symmetry 
 of their tables ; which, as we shall pre- 
 sently prove, is one of the direst ene- | 
 mies to good-cheer. 
 
 In this fleeting world, nothing is in 
 
68 
 
 perfection long ; appetite itself de- 
 cays; the man who has laboured with 
 alacrity through the two first courses, 
 will find it begin to flag before he has 
 done justice tothe third; and, alas! fail 
 him ere the dessert has been an hour be- 
 fore him. From the young virgin, whose 
 beauty blooms but for a moment in all 
 its freshness, to the partridge whose — 
 flavour depends upon its haying been 
 hung twelve hours, more or less; there 
 is a precise moment for every thing 
 which ought to be adroitly snatched ; 
 and Horace has observed with equal 
 perspicuity and truth, that— 
 
 ‘* Ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum !”” 
 
 which means in plain English, ‘ that 
 
69 
 
 _ © precipitation and delay are equally 
 * * fatal to ragouts,”’ ! 
 ‘This important principle being once 
 _ established, and there is not.a true epi- 
 eure living who is not struck with it, 
 by what infatuation do we persist in 
 covering our tables with twenty dishes 
 at once, which cannot all be eaten 
 at one moment, and many of which 
 must necessarily suffer by delay. °Tis 
 pride alone, vain glorious empty pride, 
 that has introduced this worthless sym- 
 metry, which, “ like the baseless fabric 
 '* of a vision,’ charms the eye but 
 cheats the palate ; and thesame passion 
 which proved fatal to the fallen angels, 
 has ruined many a glorious dinner. 
 
 In vain have epicurean Amphytrions, 
 
 endowed with too little strength of 
 
70 
 
 mind to soar above the prejudices of 
 the world, felt the fatal consequences . 
 of these symmetrical dinners, and en- 
 deavoured to remedy them by artificial 
 heat; but hot bricks, balls of heated 
 tin, chafing-dishes, and water-plates, . 
 are but sorry palliatives of the evil, and 
 rather tend to dry the gravies than to 
 keep them hot. 19 cela 
 
 ‘¢ What then is to be done ?’—says 
 the man of the world, aslave to custom, 
 and above all to vanity. Despise the 
 one and lay aside the other. Give 
 small parties; but repeat them often. 
 Give but twelve removes in lieu of 
 twenty-four; but serve up only one, or 
 at most two, at a time. Having thus 
 banished symmetry from your table, 
 
 you will produce nothing on it but what 
 
71 
 
 is really meant to be consumed. The 
 cook, occupied about fewer dishes, will 
 have more leisure to prepare each ac- 
 cording to the strict rules of art: served 
 to a minute—from the omelette which 
 should be turned from the frying-pan 
 into the stomach, to the macaroni, 
 which should make but one leap from 
 the mouth of the oven into our own— 
 each will bear the highest relish of 
 ‘which it is susceptible, and will become 
 the sole focus where every appetite is 
 reflected: time will be afforded to do 
 the amplest justice to their several 
 
 merits : our palates will be titillated, . 
 and our appetites stimulated by their 
 gradual succession; and we shall be 
 enabled not only to cram down every 
 
 thing hot, butin much larger quantities. 
 
72 
 
 -. But let us not be understood as ob- 
 jecting to the elegance of symmetrical 
 arrangement in the ornaments of. the 
 table: ‘on the contrary, let biscuit- 
 figures, plateaux, €pergnes, saliéres and 
 saladiers, crystal, plate, and porcelain, 
 glitter in all the foppery of decoration; 
 their presence adds lustre to the »celes- 
 tial bodies of which they are the. at- 
 tendant satellites. We only. object to 
 
 those formal, half-cold dinners, where— 
 
 ‘‘ Dish nods at dish, each capon has its brother, 
 “And one tureen but just reflects the other.”’ 
 
 PopPE. 
 
ESSAY VI. 
 
 #7 Py 
 
 ON MODERN ARCHITECTURE, AND THE COM- 
 PARATIVE MISERIES AND COMFORTS OF 
 DINING-ROOMS. oa 
 
 Tur man who resides in London, 
 leads the life of a lamp-lighter. The 
 houses are so confined and lofty, that 
 the rooms are necessarily perched above 
 each other like the nests in a dovecot ; 
 and he is eternally up and down on the 
 same ladder—for our staircases deserve 
 no other name. He ascends to a bed- 
 chamber in the clouds, where he sleeps 
 -* aloft in air,’? exposed to be blown 
 out of his bed by the first high wind," 
 or to be crushed in it by the fall of 
 
 E 
 
74 
 
 some tall stack of chimneys: if he es- 
 cape these dangers, and live till morn- 
 ing, he must descend forty steps of cold 
 stone enclosed in a natrow funnel+= 
 which serves as a channel to convey 
 the steams from the kitchen and blasts 
 from the hall-door—ere he can be 
 seated in the breakfast room: does he 
 want a book to glance through as he 
 sips his tea—his library is still further — 
 down the same dreary chasm; and. 
 should he wish to consult his cook; on. 
 the theatre of his operations, he must 
 seek him “ five fathom. deep”? below 
 the habitable world. . 
 
 But all this is nothing in comparison: 
 with the inconveniencies of our dining. 
 parlours. Instead of being placed in 
 
 the most secluded part of our mansions 
 
79 
 
 —far removed from noise and inter- 
 ruption—they are generally situated in 
 the very front of the house, exposed to 
 all the racket of the street, and open 
 directly on the hall, unprotected by an 
 anti-room : so that, your head is stunned 
 with the rattle of carriages, the knocks 
 at and clapping of doors, the screams of 
 ballad-singers, and the horns of news- 
 boys; and, as if this were not sufficient 
 annoyance, your legs are blown from 
 under you every time the door of the 
 room opens, unless, indeed, you should . 
 have had the precaution to secure a seat 
 at a distance from it. 
 
 But here, again, the parade of sym- 
 metry pursues you. If you have had 
 the good fortune, as you suppose, to 
 place yourself with your back to the 
 
 E 2 
 
76 
 
 fire—the table is probably so near to it, 
 that your spine is melted, and your ap- 
 petite destroyed, before you have got 
 through the first course : ee bet expe- 
 rience of this mistake should have di- 
 rected you to the opposite side—you 
 run the risk of being frozen, the powers 
 of your stomach become torpid, and it 
 will not be in the power of cayenne 
 itself to restore them. 
 
 ‘“¢ How, then, is all this to. be 
 ‘‘avoided ??? How ?—why, place your 
 dining-room at the back of your house, 
 and let it be approached through an 
 anti-room ; make it the very penetraha 
 of your household gods, where you 
 may meditate without distraction on 
 the worship peculiar to the place; 
 
 shield your table from all draughts but 
 
those of wine; leave a vacuum—the 
 only one that ever should be left at 
 ~dinner—on that side of it next the fire, 
 so that every one may havea view ofit ; 
 and in the corner next your sideboard 
 place a German stove, that may at once 
 ‘serve as a hot-closet for your butler, 
 and an air-warmer for your. guests :— 
 thus shall you be in possession of. a 
 temple and an altar, both worthy of the 
 sacrifice to be consummated. : 
 Let us only picture to ourselves 
 a dining-room thus arranged, well 
 warmed, and carpeted—scarlet furni- 
 ture—lamplight—table enclosed within 
 an ample screen—deep, well stuffed, 
 elbow chairs—party not exceeding ten, ! 
 nor the dishes sixteen (exclusive of the 
 soups, vegetables, entremets, and des- 
 - E 3 
 
78 
 
 sert), and these served up separately— | 
 dinner hot—wines cool—appetite keen 
 —stomach clear :—the imagination can 
 hardly conceive an idea of human fe- 
 licity to exceed such a scene, and he . 
 who can realize it need never envy the 
 
 joys of Paradise. 
 
 « Let scarlet hangings clothe the parlour walls, 
 - « And dinners snug be served in well-warmed 
 halls: 
 
 « Let Turkey carpets o’er the floors be laid,. 
 
 « And whitest damask on the tables spread. . 
 
 «¢ With loads of massy plate let sideboards shine, 
 
 « And erystal vases fill with gen’rous wine— _ 
 
 “¢ Thus feast the Gods who in Olympus dine.” 
 Vineiz, ZEneid rit, 
 
ee ; 
 
 ESSAY VIL 
 
 “ee 
 
 ON THE PHYSICAL AND POLITICAL CONSE- 
 -. .QUENCE OF SAUCES, 
 
 ogre, 
 
 Ir we say of a doctor, while smirk- 
 ing from within the comfortable enclo- 
 sure of his varnished pill-box, that 
 *¢ his science is in the gold head of 
 *¢ his cane ;”’—of a parson, that ‘ it is 
 ‘“< the surplice makes the divine ;”’— 
 and of a judge, that ‘‘ the wisdom’s in 
 * the wig ;’—how much more aptly 
 may we apply the old proverb—“ it 
 «« is the sauce that passes the fish !?— 
 a profound observation, containing a 
 great moral truth, from which we may 
 deduce the vast importance of this 
 E 4 
 
80 
 
 delicate branch of culinary science. 
 Sauces form not only an essential ad- 
 dition to, and even “a integral part of, 
 most meats; they do not alone vary the 
 taste and form in which they are pre- 
 sented to us, and impart that relish 
 which enables a man to eat three times 
 as much as ‘he could: without them, but 
 they: decorate them with an attractive 
 embellishment which may justly be 
 compared to the finishing touch of the 
 painter, or the toilette of a pretty 
 woman. | 
 
 The duty of a good sauce is, to titil- 
 late the capillaceous extremities of the 
 maxillary glands, and thus to flatter 
 and excite the appetite. If it be too 
 mild, it causes no sensation, and its 
 
 object is not attained ; and if it be too 
 
* 81 
 
 pungent, it excoriates instead of arous- 
 ing that gentle stimulation of the palate, 
 ‘the source of those undescribable feel- 
 ings in which the enjoyment of a real 
 epicure consists, and which an ex pe- 
 rienced and accomplished cook can 
 alone produce. ; 
 
 Physicians indeed tell us, that sauces 
 should be avoided—‘ because they in- 
 *¢ duce us to eat to repletion !’’—not per- 
 ceiving that the objection constitutes 
 the finest eulogium that could be passed 
 on them. Were we guided by such 
 reasoning as this, it would undermine 
 the constitution and destroy the whole 
 system of modern cookery; it would 
 absolutely reduce us to a diet of plain 
 roast and boiled, and condemn us for. 
 the remainder of our lives to the regi- 
 
 E 9 
 
82. 
 
 men of a family-joint. But, putting 
 aside the impotent logic of these sons of 
 /Esculapius, we may safely refer to their 
 own practice ; and, if we are not forced 
 to refrain from the use of sauces until — 
 we see them refuse lobster with their 
 turbot, swallow venison without jelly, 
 take beef-steaks without oysters, or re- 
 ject turtle and ragotits, we need be in 
 no dread of being speedily compelled — 
 to abstinence ; and we may say to them, 
 
 as Brutus to his brother Cassius— 
 
 s* There is no terror, Doctor! in your threats.” 
 SHAKESPEARE, 
 
 it was the shrewd observation of a - 
 foreign ambassador to this country, in 
 the last age, “that the English had 
 
 “twenty religions and only one sauce.”’ 
 
83 
 
 But the eternal melted-butter, to which. 
 he alluded, which then ruled over our 
 tables with undivided sway, has since 
 been stripped of a great portion of its 
 authority ; and although it still retains 
 a large share of power, and notwith-. 
 standing there is a strong party whic 
 yet maintains its exclusive legitimacy, 
 it no longer reigns in all the majesty of 
 uncontrolled dominion. — No revolu- 
 tion ever produced a greater change 
 than has taken place in the adminis- 
 tration of our kitchens. No longer 
 confined-to the dull routine of the old 
 school, our prejudices against foreign 
 innovations are daily yielding to the 
 dictates of an enlightened philosophy ; 
 even the alien bill has failed to exclude 
 a variety of strange dishes hitherto con- 
 E 6 
 
: 84 
 
 sidered noxious to the constitution ; 
 already have we adopted a great por- 
 tion of the French régime, and though 
 we despair of ever seeing the Code 
 Napoléon in practice in this country, 
 yet are we not without hopes of wit- 
 nessing the naturalization of the entire 
 system of continental cookery. Such, 
 indeed, is the progress we have made, 
 that a detailed catalogue of the sauces 
 we already possess would of itself fill 
 a moderate volume: according to a 
 pretty accurate computation, made 
 about two years ago, the nomenclature 
 then extended to more than one bun. 
 dred and eighty varieties; and it has 
 since received several very important 
 additions. It might, perhaps, be ex- 
 
 pected that we should give some ac- 
 
85 
 count of these, and we will not deny 
 that we are minutely acquainted with 
 the composition of each: but, besides 
 the great length to which it would lead: 
 us, we do not profess to do more than 
 to stimulate the curiosity and the appe- 
 tite of our readers; it is for professed 
 artists alone to satisfy them. We have, 
 however, been for some time past en- 
 gaged in the concentration of a few of 
 the most piquant of these into one quint- 
 essence, which we are not without hopes 
 of bringing to perfection within the 
 course of the next six months. Already 
 have our first attempts met the warmest 
 approbation of the most distinguished 
 connoisseurs of the metropolis; and 
 we have been assured, that a small 
 bottle of it, which we lately sent on 
 
 trial to a man of high consequence, 
 
86 
 
 formed the most interesting topic of 
 conversation at a ereat political dinner. 
 It has, indeed, been hinted to us, that, 
 should we not choose to take out a 
 patent, there can be no doubt of our 
 obtaining a Parliamentary grant for 
 making it public ; and, unquestionably, 
 grants, and pensions too, have been bes- 
 towed for less important national ser- 
 vices. In a matter of so delicate a 
 nature, it can hardly be expected that 
 we should, in this stage of it, explain 
 ourself farther ; and all that we at pre- 
 sent deem it prudent to say, is this— 
 that, as other sauces have been an- 
 nounced as enabling a man to eat his 
 own father, with this we may truly 
 promise—that those who have a taste 
 that way, would even relish their vrand. 
 
 mothers, 
 
ESSAY VIII. 
 
 ON THE IMPORTANCE OF FORMING GOOD 
 CONNEXIONS; AND ON THE MORAL QUA~ 
 LITIES OF THE STOMACH. 
 
 Society offers various degrees of 
 connexion, all founded upon interests 
 or passions by which they are continu- 
 ally liable to be interrupted. Thus, 
 we have— 
 
 Family Connexions, which are common. 
 ly frigid ; 
 
 Matrimonial Connexions, generally in- 
 terested ; 
 
 Lihcit Connexions, always frail ; 
 
 Poktical Connerions, ever hollow ; 
 
 Commercial Connexions, often ruinous ; 
 
88 
 
 and, finally, Freendly Connextons, which 
 are seldom sincere, and the semblance 
 of which lead to so many Lquavocal 
 and even Dangerous Connexions. 
 
 The world, indeed, affords but one 
 kind of connexion that is not exposed 
 to some of these disadvantages, and, 
 consequently, that is worth forming— 
 that is, the Connexion of Sauces. The 
 art of forming these is one of the great- 
 _est mysteries in the whole arcana of the 
 sciences, and its acquirement is the very 
 acme of the culinary art. Its elements 
 indeed are simple, consisting chiefly of 
 eravy or of cream, as those of ordinary _ 
 connexions do of interest or affection : 
 their object, too, is to cement the union 
 of various, and often discordant, qua- 
 
 lities: it is their employment which is 
 
80 
 
 difficult. As, in a happy marriage, the 
 interests, the temper, and the wishes, of 
 each, must mutually. yield to the other, 
 in order to produce that harmony which 
 forms the basis of connubial happiness 
 and of social order; so, in a good ra- 
 gout, the substance, the seasoning, and 
 the sauce, should all be blended in that 
 exquisite concord which constitutes the 
 foundation of good cookery and of all 
 rational enjoyment. The importance 
 of an art which thus binds the whole 
 fabric of society must be at once appa- 
 rent, and we are more earnest in solicit- 
 ing attention to it, as it is one in which 
 ‘the generality of cooks are most la- 
 mentably deficient: like many of their 
 masters, they cheat us with false ap- 
 
 pearances, and give their sauces the 
 
90 
 
 semblance of richness, “by the aid of 
 mere colouring matter, while they, in 
 fact, possess neither flavour nor sub- 
 stance. | 
 
 The consideration of this subject 
 leads us to that of Soczal Connexions, 
 which spring from it as naturally as 
 horns from a connexion of another 
 kind. The table is a magnet which 
 not only attracts around it all those who 
 come within its influence, but connects 
 them together by ties which no one 
 ever wishes to dissolve. These are 
 much stronger among epicures than 
 other persons ; not only from the prin- 
 ciple of attraction in a conformity of 
 taste, but because epicures are more 
 sociably disposed, more frank and cor- 
 
 dial, and are, in fact, better than any 
 
91 
 ‘other of the human species. However 
 this last assertion may occasion a sneer 
 of disbelief on the wan visage of some 
 water-drinking cynic, it is susceptible 
 of the most incontrovertible demon- 
 stration. Thus—no man abstains from 
 the pleasures of the table, unless forced 
 to do so by some constitutional defect: 
 —the greatest defect in the constitution 
 is a bad stomach :—if the stomach be 
 unsound, the heart which is lodged in 
 it must be corrupted: it therefore fol- 
 lows, that all abstemious people are 
 persons of bad heart; and the converse 
 of this proposition evidently is, that all 
 bon-vivants are persons of a good heart, 
 as well as a sound constitution. The 
 truth of this axiom is confirmed by 
 
 the daily experience of society: your 
 
sober people, not having the power to 
 digest sufficient food and wine to sup- 
 port the system. and stir the generous 
 current of the blood, are cold in manners 
 as in constitution, and from being pur- 
 sued with the eternal consciousness of 
 their deficiencies, they are ever envious 
 and malignant; while the jolly votary 
 of the table, revelling in the full tide of 
 enjoyment, feels no corroding anxiety 
 check the warm impulse which expands 
 his mind to hilarity and his heart to 
 friendship ; and, as good cheer is the 
 nurse of good humour and wit—a good 
 stomach is the parent of every social 
 virtue. 
 
 Let us be assured, therefore, that the 
 connexion between a good sauce, where- 
 
 by the powers of the food are cemented, | 
 
93 
 
 and a good stomach, wherewith the 
 constitution is supported and the social 
 system maintained, possesses the only 
 legitimate title to respect, and is, in 
 fact, the real secret of the Hoty AL- 
 
 LIANCE. 
 
ESSAY IX. 
 
 ON MUSTARD, PHILOSOPHICALLY CONSI< 
 DERED; AND ON THE USE OF GARLICK 
 AS A PERFUME. 
 
 Or all the stimulants which are used 
 at table to savour meats, to excite appe- 
 tite, or to hide the faults of cooks, mus- 
 tard is doubtless that which every 
 thing considered—deserves to hold the 
 first place; both from its antiquity, 
 which may be traced to the earliest 
 history of the Jews, and its beneficent. 
 qualities. If we put any faith in doc- 
 tors, this seasoning acts powerfully 
 upon the organs of digestion ; it aug- 
 
 ments the force and elasticity of the 
 
 a 
 
95 
 
 fibres, attracts the digestive juices into 
 the stomach, separates the nutritive 
 from the inert matter, and accelerates 
 
 the peristaltic motion. It is, besides, 
 
 . singularly salutary in its effects upon 
 
 the brain: it expands the mind, exalts 
 the imagination, and sublimates the 
 fancy ; it is to its copious use that the 
 remarkable strength and poignancy of 
 the speeches at all public dinners is 
 chiefly to be attributed ; and notwith- 
 standing all that has been said about a 
 full stomach obscuring the intellect, we 
 may venture to assert, without fear of 
 contradiction from any of the sons of 
 Helicon—that the conceptions of a poet 
 who had just swallowed a pound of 
 beef—with a proportionate quantity of 
 
 mustard—would be far more vigorous, 
 
96 
 
 his arguments more solid, and his rea- 
 soning more satisfactory, than if he had 
 counted the trees in St. James’s Park | 
 for a dinner. | 
 
 ‘Were we to pass from its medicinal 
 and moral qualities to its domestic uses, — 
 the enumeration of its various virtues 
 would be endless: but they are too 
 generally felt, and too universally ac- 
 knowledged, to require eulogium ; and 
 we shall merely observe, that its pre- 
 sence is. indispensable from the com- 
 mencement of dinner until the appear- 
 ance of the dessert. And yet, although 
 these truths are so glaring that no man 
 in his senses will contest them, has the 
 preparation of mustard been hitherto 
 committed to vulgar hands; and of all 
 
 the extrinsic aids on which the perfec- 
 
; oF 
 
 ton: of that highest of all human gratifi- 
 cations, a good dinner, depends, there i is 
 . ret to which so little attention is paid. 
 With only one illustrious exception— 
 who has been torn from us, like a leaf 
 out of a common-place book, by the 
 rude hand of Persecution—our chymists 
 are Jost in vain speculations on gasses, 
 acids, walkelies, and carbon, and:seem 
 infinitely more intent on making money 
 than mustard. France, however, which 
 has so often recovered the losses of 
 her arms through her acquirements in 
 aeicnce. has not been inattentive to this 
 important object; and she is. amply — 
 recompensed—in the celebrated mou 
 tarde de marlle—tor all the disasters of 
 Waterloo. 3 
 We most sincerely regret that it is 
 
 F 
 
98 
 
 not in our power to present our readers: 
 with the receipt for this invaluable 
 compound ; and we fear that the na- 
 tional jealousy of our neighbours will 
 long keep it secret from us: but this 
 will be in a great measure supplied, if 
 due attention be paid to the following © 
 hints. 
 
 In the first place—never entrust the 
 composition of your mustard to any 
 hand but your own, unless you should 
 be fortunate enough to possess a maitre 
 @hétel, or a butler, in whom you can | 
 place the most implicit confidence: next, 
 let the powder be invariably mixed 
 with champagne in lieu of water ; 
 then, add a small quantity of essence of — 
 anchovy, and one drop—light as the 
 
 morning dew upon a_ rose-bud —of 
 
99 
 
  assafoetida. And here we may remark, 
 
 that whenever the aid of garlick is re- 
 
 quired, assafcetida will equally answer 
 
 the purpose of adding a high flavor, 
 
 while it is more easily incorporated 
 
 _with other ingredients. As to the root 
 
 itself, when used in a small quantity its 
 odour is scarcely perceptible ; but were 
 it “ rank as the dull weed that grows 
 ‘‘ on Lethe’s banks,” it is more fragrant — 
 than any flower that blows, and he is 
 but a mere pretender to the name of 
 epicure who does not prefer its savoury 
 pungency to the mawkish effluvia of 
 attar of roses. It is this that was, in 
 days of yore, the incense of the gods: 
 when the heroes of Homer—who, by 
 the bye, Were every man of them cooks 
 —hbroiled their offerings of beef-steaks 
 F 2 
 
100 
 for the deities, this was the seasoning . 
 they used to render them acceptable ; 
 and the steam that was snuffed with 
 such ineffable delight upon Olympus, 
 was always strongly impregnated with 
 garlick. Its perfume raises the spirits, 
 and awakens the appetite by its associ- 
 ation in idea with a good dinner; it 
 braces the nerves, and overpowers all 
 unpleasant scents more effectually than 
 any of the essences in use; and the 
 most agreeable effects would be percep-. 
 tible in our drawing rooms, if, instead 
 of the lavender, musk, and bergamot, 
 which we are forced to inhale in them, 
 ladies would but consent to sprinkle 
 
 their handkerchiefs with assafoetida. 
 * 
 
ake ESSAY X. 
 
 ON ROASTING BEEF, INCLUDING CONSIDER- 
 ATIONS ON ITS DOMESTIC AND NATIONAL 
 IMPORTANCE, WITH AN Be TIRE NEW PLAN 
 FOR ITS IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 --Tuere is but one rib to which every — : 
 man is uniformly constant :—that is, a 
 rib “fi beef. Its attractions, unlike the 
 fading beauties of the person, or the 
 -yariable qualities of the mind, ever re- 
 tain the freshness of their first impres- 
 sion on our senses, and neither time 
 nor circumstance can estrange our af- 
 -fections from this earliest object of our 
 ; ardent love, and latest of our matured 
 
 attachment. It is this which may 
 FS 
 
102 
 
 truly be denominated “ bone of our 
 ‘‘ bone, and flesh of our flesh,’ and 
 from which no man of sound principles 
 or good appetite would ever wish to be 
 separated. If any lean and atrabilarious 
 contemner of the solid joys of life 
 should be so insensible to its charms — 
 as to wish to divorce it a mensd—no 
 ecclesiastical court would entertain the | 
 suit; if appeal were made to the Lords 
 ——the Bench of Bishops would declare 
 it to be contrary to every orthodox 
 principle; the Judges would decide 
 that all precedent was opposed to it; 
 the house would unanimously reject 
 the petition as dangerous to the con- 
 stitution; and even the Chancellor 
 himself would feel no hesitation in pro- 
 
 nouncing judgment. It is interwoven 
 
103 
 
 with all our most cherished recollec- 
 tions and our sweetest sympathies: let 
 an Englishman be taken from his na- 
 tive country to any quarter of the globe, 
 ‘surround him with all the seductions 
 of France or Italy—he still sighs for it 
 —no reveille ever animated the soldier 
 with half the ardour that does the drum 
 when, a quarter of an hour before din- 
 ner, it beats the inspiring air of ‘‘ Oh! 
 ‘*‘ the roast beef of old England !”?—it 
 was to its honored remains that the 
 sentimental muse of Moore addressed 
 the pathetic song which ends with these 
 _ expressive lines— 
 
 «* Around the dear ruin each wish of my heart 
 «¢ Shall entwine itself verdantly still ;’— 
 
 and it is of such a rib that every man 
 F 4 
 
104 
 
 may truly say, he wishes—* to cut, and | 
 
 ‘“ come again.”? But it is not alone as 
 an object of our fondest care that it 
 
 should be regarded : the national cha- 
 
 racter is involved in that of our beef ce 
 
 and not only our love, but our pride 
 also, is interested in preserving its re- 
 putation untainted, and in presenting 
 it in the most fascinating garb.  [t is 
 with this double object in view, that 
 we venture to suggest an important 
 improvement in the art of dressing it, 
 
 to which we request that serious atten- 
 
 tion which the subject so well deserves; 
 
 and while we submit it to be weighed 
 in the even scale of public opinion, we 
 trust that our readers will “sink the 
 “¢ offal’? of prejudice, and judge it with 
 all the impartiality of a Smithfield um- 
 
 pire. 
 
105 
 
 A According to the present vitious 
 mode of roasting—before a tolerably 
 sized piece of beef can be sufficiently 
 done, the greater part of its succulent 
 and invaluable juices are wasted in the 
 _dripping-pan, and confiscated to the 
 profit of the cook. This has long been _ 
 matter of poignant regret to those who 
 are best enabled to appreciate the value 
 of the loss, and various have been the 
 plans proposed to remedy the evil; but 
 the honor of complete success was re- 
 served to the nineteenth century, already 
 ‘so fruitful in great events. Like most 
 other inventions of general utility, it is 
 equally simple and comprehensive. 
 The object being, to close the pores 
 of the meat, and thus, by preventing 
 the escape of its juices, to retain all its 
 FO 
 
106 
 most nutritive qualities, and to heighten — 
 its flavor—all these desirable objects 
 are at once attained by merely immers- 
 ing the jownt in rendered tallow. 
 
 On a little reflection, our readers 
 cannot fail to be struck with all the 
 advantages which must necessarily re- 
 sult from this process; and we doubt 
 not that it will be immediately, and 
 universally, adopted. There is but one 
 objection that we have anticipated, and 
 that is, the inconvenience of the oper- 
 ation; but for this we have provided 
 in a manner that we are equally sure 
 must meet with general approbation. 
 
 There can be no doubt of the inti- 
 macy of your kitchen-maid with the 
 tallow-chandler :—let her seek him in 
 
 his melting moments ; and, submitting 
 
107 
 
 her ribs to the warm embraces of his 
 vat, leave them plunged in the soft 
 effusion for about half an hour, in 
 which time the operation will generally 
 be completed. When sufficiently im- 
 pregnated with the unctuous mass, let 
 them be placed in a cool situation, in 
 order that it may form an impenetrable 
 ‘coating, equally impervious to the ex- 
 ternal air and retentive of the internal 
 moisture: thus, they will be preserved 
 in all their primitive freshness until the 
 period of their maturity; when put to 
 the fire, the gradual decomposition of 
 the tallow will preserve them from 
 being scorched without, or drained 
 within; and when placed upon the 
 table, the first incision of the carving- 
 knive will be followed by. an inunda- 
 F 6 
 
108 
 
 tion of gravy that will richly compen- 
 sate the cares of its conservation. 
 
 In presenting this receipt to our 
 country as an object of truly national 
 importance, we have yet to regret, that 
 the merit of the discovery belongs to 
 France. We confess, that we do not — 
 make this acknowledgment without 
 some degree of confusion :—we feel as if 
 invaded, as it were, in our own terri- 
 tory :—while the strong hold of roast- 
 beef was exclusively our own, we felt 
 securely entrenched—knuckle deep— 
 in a substantial fort, from which we 
 might look with a certain degree of 
 indifference on the lesser outposts oc- 
 cupied by our rivals, and could at any 
 time make a sally upon them without 
 
 fear of reprisal ; but the new mode of 
 
cs ae 
 
 109 
 
 attack which we have just detailed, fills 
 us with alarm for the undivided domi- 
 nion of this most antient and most va- 
 luable British possession. Never can 
 that approved military maxim—“ fas 
 “est ab hoste docerr’’—be more aptly 
 applied; and devoutly do we hope, 
 that the experience of the enemy will, 
 in this instance at least, redound to our 
 own advantage. There is but one 
 slight inconvenience attending its em- 
 . ployment, and that arising solely from 
 ‘its superior excellence :—such is the 
 relish which it imparts, that a Baron of 
 Beef prepared in this manner will 
 scarcely suffice for half a dozen men 
 
 of moderate appetite. 
 
ESSAY XI. 
 
 ON THE VIRTUES, THE QUALIFICATIONS, AND 
 THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE ANCIENT FA- 
 _MILY OF HOGS. 
 
 Ir is not to the bipeds who bear 
 this title that we allude :—the amiable 
 quadruped known by it is a far more 
 estimable personage ; and, though de- 
 cried and despised, is, in fact, one of 
 the most estimable members of society. - 
 His various good qualities are, indeed, 
 felt by all, but acknowledged by few ; 
 and in no instance is the ingratitude of 
 the world more glaring than in the 
 contempt with which his modest merits 
 
 are rewarded. For our own part, we 
 
i111 
 
 never meet him without taking off our 
 hat with all the respect which is due to 
 real worth in whatever garb we find it. 
 
 He is the prince of all the animals 
 that ‘“‘chew noé the cud ;” and although 
 the majority of the Christians of the 
 | present age are as great Jews as ever 
 lived, yet none of them adhere to the 
 Levitical law in regard to him. Nature 
 has been, so bountiful to this her fa- 
 vored child, that every part of him is 
 equally valuable :—arms and the arts 
 contend with the kitchen for his spoils ; 
 and if the fame and fortune of many a 
 pork-butcher is due to his flesh, his 
 bristles have been the instruments of 
 the glory of many a celebrated painter, 
 as his hide is ever the seat of honor of 
 
 the warrior. - Were he banished from 
 
112 
 
 our tables—neither ham, nor brawn, 
 nor bacon, nor smoked chops, nor 
 Brunswick or Bologna sausages, nor 
 forced-meat, nor black-puddings, nor 
 pickled petitoes, nor standing pies, 
 would ever. greet our senses ; the 
 Christmas chine, the harslet and the 
 crackling, griskins and spare-ribs would 
 be seen no more ; pease-pudding, ap- 
 ple-sauce, and savoury sage, would par- 
 take in his disgrace ; and sucking-pigs 
 would cease to smile upon our boards. 
 We have recapitulated these few traits 
 of his innumerable excellencies from 
 the same feeling that would lead us to 
 rescue the character of a valued friend 
 from obloquy ; and we trust, that the 
 slanderers of this truly respectable 
 
 animal, will in future admit—<‘ that 
 
113 
 
 ‘‘ they have ta’en the wrong sow by the 
 Gear. 
 
 The metamorphoses which the flesh 
 of the hog undergoes, are as various as 
 those described by Ovid ; and if he had 
 but employed his pen to record them, ~ 
 his works, instead of being only found 
 in the hands of school-boys, would be 
 read with more enthusiasm than those 
 of Sir Walter Scott or Lord Byron. 
 We shall not attempt to detail them: 
 they would, alone, occupy the pages of 
 a folio, and they more properly form 
 the subject of a profound treatise than 
 of a mere elementary essay. But we 
 cannot refrain from touching upon that 
 long contested and still unsettled point 
 —the best mode of dressing ham. 
 
 A noble peer, whose experience on 
 
114 
 this interesting subject has been dise 
 played with great erudition in his truly 
 
 instructive travels*, and whose critical 
 
 acumen in culinary science can no. 
 
 more be questioned than his know- 
 
 ledge of military tactics, has furnished 
 
 one invaluable receipt which must be 
 within the recollection of every reader 
 of taste ; and we remember to have been 
 ourself present, at the table of another 
 noble and truly amiable bon-vivanty, 
 when an animated discussion took place 
 on the comparative merits of stewing 
 a ham in champagne, or of baking it 
 
 in the centre of a dunghill when ina 
 
 * See “Journal of a Forced Tour, &c.” by 
 the Rt. Hon, Lord Blayney. 
 
 + The late Viscount L—v—g—n. 
 
115— 
 
 state of fermentation: Our own opi- 
 -nion. inclined to the latter: the cham- 
 pagne has the inconvenience. of pene- 
 trating the brain of your cook rather 
 than the flesh of the ham; while there 
 can be no doubt of the pungent effluvia 
 of the compost communicating to it a 
 very high flavor. A preferable mode 
 to either is, in our humble estimation, 
 to thoroughly roast it in a paste, after 
 having soaked it for four-and-twenty 
 hours in syrup strongly impregnated 
 with garlick-vinegar; due allowance 
 being made, in the latter respect, for 
 the different treatment required by a 
 ponderous Westphalian, and the more 
 delicate native of Guimaraens or the 
 
 mountains of Galicia, But ham should 
 
116 
 
 never be eaten hot; nor cold, unless 
 smothered in a savoury jelly. 
 
 We shall not advert to that highly 
 valued delicacy of the ancients—stewed 
 sow’s teats—because the avarice of 
 modern times opposes itself to the 
 slaughter of the animal at the period 
 when they are in perfection, and a pre- 
 judice exists against those which die in 
 parturition. But we think we shall 
 render a great public service by re- 
 cording the modern Portuguese method 
 of dressing a loin of pork :— 
 
 Steep it, during an entire week, in 
 red wine, (claret in preference, ) with a 
 strong infusion of garlick and a little 
 spice ; then sprinkle it with fine herbs, 
 
 envelope it in bay-leaves, and bake it 
 
Allg 
 along with Seville oranges prquees de 
 — gtrofle. 
 2. We strongly recommend this dish 
 _ to the Society for the Conversion of the 
 Jews, as a more effectual means of 
 making proselytes than any they have 
 yet adopted; and we must here re- 
 mark, to the honor of the pig, that 
 there is no example upon record of a 
 real epicure having been converted to 
 Judaism. 7 
 Naturalists may say what they please 
 - of the lion—the wild boar is the real 
 monarch of the forest ; and no one 
 who has seen him, towering at the 
 head of the table in proud pre-emi- 
 ‘nence above:all lesser game, could 
 doubt for a moment of his rank, or of 
 
 the respect.te which he is entitled. In- 
 
ei ~ 18 
 
 deed few potentates can vie with him 
 in the love and admiration which he 
 commands; and there is none whose 
 head isso well spoken of. To mention 
 the various gracious forms in which he 
 condescends to appear in those coun- 
 tries where he yet reigns, would only 
 be to excite vain regrets, and to make 
 our mouths water fruitlessly ; we shall 
 therefore spare our readers and ourself 
 the tantalizing recital; but it is con-- 
 solatory to reflect_that, by only just 
 going to Poland or Hungary, or even 
 to Hanover, we may yet see him in 
 all his glory—and few travellers have 
 in view-an object so truly worthy of 
 pursuit. We presume that no one will 
 he either so simple, or so unjust, as to 
 
 confound this noble animal with the 
 
Gi ielks ty te Pe eae Paty Pr hey A 
 mPa gral Pp tins 
 is 
 : ij - 
 
 119 
 common bores to be every day met at 
 the very best tables in this country. ; 
 Having made this feeble attempt to 
 do justice to the merits of the hog, and 
 the splendor of his great ancestor, it 
 now only remains for us to mention his 
 nephew, and the heir to all his virtues 
 —for progeny of his own he has none 
 —ihe gentle sucking-pig. And with 
 regard to him, we have merely to re- 
 commend, that he be treated as a tender 
 mother does her darling infant—that is 
 to say—that he be well stuffed ; and 
 while dressing, let him be watched 
 with as much solicitude as a daughter 
 in her teens; but, above all, let him be 
 well done ; for, as to under-roasted pig 
 
 —a man might just.as well eata raw 
 child.— 
 
120 
 
 A modern professor of some reputa- 
 tion in the practical arts of the kitchen, 
 recommends that, when dressed, it 
 should be divided longitudinally, and 
 dished up conjugally—that is, back to 
 back. ea epee 
 With regard to the antiquity of this 
 family — they who have been weak 
 enough to waste their time upon litera- 
 ture need not be told, that the founda- 
 tion of the Roman Empire was due to 
 the fortunate omen offered to Aineas 
 by a sow :— : 
 “‘ Wond’rous to tell !—she lay along the ground: 
 
 ‘* Her well-fed offspring at her udders hung ; 
 « She white herself, and white her thirty young!” 
 
 Dryden’s Virg. Ain. b. viii. 
 
 And we have the authority of Varro. 
 
 for the fact, that the remains of this 
 
Pater. 
 
 os 
 
 121 
 
 venerable prophetess were preserved in 
 brine, and shewn, by the priests of 
 Juno, at Lavinium, in his time; that 
 is to say—about seventeen hundred 
 years after her decease. I[t is, there- 
 fore, clearer than many a pedigree in 
 the Heralds’ College, that the origin 
 of pickled-pork remounts at least as 
 high as the Trojan war. Nay, her 
 descendants are to this day distin- 
 : guished in our universities by collegiate 
 honors — better merited, by the bye, 
 than some bestowed there—as many a 
 fellow of Queen’s Coll. Oxon. can tes- 
 tify :— 3 
 
 * Caput apri defero,” &c. &e. 
 
ESSAY XII. 
 
 ON DEVILS. 
 
 No lawyer has a right to take ex- 
 
 ceptions to the title of this essay, for’ it : 
 
 is neither Satan nor any of his imps to 
 which it refers; and, although we cer- 
 tainly do intend to treat of devils incar- 
 nate, we mean no allusion to those who 
 
 inhabit’ the inns of court. 
 
 Every man must have experienced 
 
 that—when he has got deep into his 
 third bottle—his palate acquires a degree 
 of torpidity, and his stomach is seized 
 
 with a certain craving, which seem to 
 
 demand a stimulant to the powers of. 
 
 both. It is to the provocatives used on 
 
 - 
 
123 
 
 such occasions—which an ungrateful 
 world has combined to term devils— 
 less, perhaps, from their fiery nature 
 than from their temptation being irre- 
 sistible—that we wish to point attention, 
 But to proceed regularly :— 
 
 We shall suppose that you have par- 
 taken, during dinner, of the usual pro- 
 portion of hock, sauterne, champagne, 
 and other light wines ; that, during 
 the dessert, you have stuck to white 
 hermitage, or sercial; and that you 
 have then sat in regularly to port and 
 
 claret. ‘Towards the close—as we have 
 
 already remarked—of your third bottle, 
 
 when all your cares are drowned in the 
 rosy libations,that you have poured in 
 horior of the jolly god, and you are in 
 the full tide of the “‘ feast of reason and 
 
 a 
 
124 
 
 “the flow of soul,”—what a zest is - 
 added to your enjoyment when the 
 butler enters the dining room—stirs 
 the fire—trims the lamps—places before 
 each guest a small plate and napkin— 3 
 and then introduces his tray, along 
 with clean glasses, a fresh magnum, 
 and a cool bottle of Burgundy. 
 “© O! noctes ceneque deum!? — Ah! 
 moment of pure delight !—embittered. 
 only by the reflection that it cannot 
 last for ever. 
 
 But, to return to our subject. There 
 are two kinds of devils—wet and dry. 
 And, here again, we must beg not to 
 be understood as making the least al- 
 lusion to the guests around the table, 
 who—to give the devil his due—have 
 
 nothing satanic in their composition, 
 
. but merely to the contents of. the tray 
 | _ which we have just supposed the butler 
 to have placed upon it. | 
 The drables au feu denfer, or. dry 
 devils, are usually composed of the 
 broiled legs and gizzards of poultry, 
 _ fish-bones, or biscuits, and, if pungency 
 alone can justify their appellation, never 
 was title better deserved, for they are 
 usually prepared without any other at- 
 tention than to make them “ hot as 
 *“‘ their native element ;”? and any one 
 who can swallow them without tears in 
 his eyes, need be under no apprehension 
 cag) the pains of futurity. It is true, they 
 answer the purpose of exciting thirst ; 
 but they excoriate the palate, vitiate 
 its nicer powers of discrimination, and 
 ai the relish for the high flavor of 
 G3 
 
126 
 
 good wine: in short, no man should ® 
 - venture upon them whose throat is not 
 paved with mosate, unless they be sea 
 soned by a cook who can poise the 
 pepper-box with’as even“a ‘hand as a 
 judge should the scales of jistice. — 
 
 But if the devils just ‘mentioned 
 compel you irresistibly. to do justice 
 to the bottle, their twin-sister—la dia- 
 blesse & la sauce—leads you insensibly, 
 by the gentler arts of persuasion, to the 
 same great object ; and if this be called 
 temptation, never, surely, was man se- 
 duced by any thing more piquante. 
 _ tt would be an insult to the understand- 
 ing of our readers, to suppose them 
 ignorant of the usual mode of treating 
 common devils; but we shall make no 
 
 apology for giving the most minute 
 
127 
 ys instructions for the preparation of the 
 géntler Sencilont in question ; which, 
 besides, possesses this advantage—that 
 it may be all done at the table, either 
 by yourself, or at least under your own 
 immediate inspection. : 
 | _ Mix equal parts of fine salt, cayenne 
 pepper, and currie powder, with double 
 _ the quantity of powder of truffles: dis- 
 sect, secundum artem, a brace of wood- 
 | cocks rathér under-roasted, split the 
 heads, | subdivide the wings, &c. &c., 
 and powder the whole gently over with 
 the mixture: crush the trail and. brains 
 along with the yelk of a hard-boiled 
 ege, a small portion of pounded mace, 
 the grated peel of half a lemon, and 
 ‘half a spoonful of soy, until the ingre- 
 dients be brought to the consistence of 
 G4. 
 
128 
 
 a fine paste : then, add a table-spoonful 
 of catsup, a full wine-glass of Madeira, 
 and the juice of two Seville oranges : 
 throw this sauce, along with the birds, 
 into a silver stew-dish, to be heated 
 with spirits of wine—cover close up— 
 light the lamp—and keep ‘gently sim- 
 mering, and occasionally stirring, until 
 the flesh has imbibed the greater part 
 of the liquid. When you have reason’ 
 to suppose it is completely saturated, 
 pour in a small quantity of salad oil, 
 stir all once more well together, “ put 
 “ out the light, and then !??—serve it 
 round instantly ; for it 1s scarcely ne- 
 cessary to say, that a devil should not 
 only be hot in itself, but eaten hot. 
 There is, however, one precaution 
 
 to be used in eating it, to which we 
 
129 
 
 must earnestly recommend the most | 
 particular attention, and for want of 
 which more than one accident have oc- 
 curred, It is not, as some simple 
 people might suppose—to avoid eating 
 too much of it—for that your neigh- 
 bours will take good care to prevent; 
 but it is this:—in order to pick the 
 bones, you must necessarily take some 
 portion of it with your fingers; and, as 
 they thereby become impregnated with 
 ‘its flavor, if you afterwards chance to 
 let them touch your tongue—you will 
 infallibly lick them to the bone, if you 
 
 do not swallow them entire. 
 
 od) 
 
 G 
 
ESSAY XII. 
 
 ON COFFEE, AND LIQUEURS. 
 
 eT ie 
 Our readers must have already per- 
 ceived, that we are unfriendly to ex- 
 cesses of any kind. Our instructions 
 
 are poimted to the use, not the-abuse, of 
 
 vood-cheer.. We would close our own 
 
 dining-room, as mysteriously as if it 
 
 werea second temple of Eleusis, against 
 all but the elect; and if any gross re- 
 vellers think to find “ warrant for their 
 ‘ orgies’? in the rites of which we 
 treat, we say to them, in the language 
 
 of its priests— ~ 
 ‘“« Hence, ye profane! far, far away remove.” 
 
 But you, gentle reader! we take to 
 
 \ 
 
131 
 
 be, “like him we love’’—that is to say, 
 ourself—a Bioserate man ; .and. we 
 therefore suppose you—resisting with 
 fortitude all temptations to prolong the 
 sitting, whether in the commands of 
 your host, the jeers of six-bottle men, 
 or, above all, the smiling entreaty of 
 another rosy batch—to “have retired to 
 the drawing-room as soon as possible 
 after you have despatched your fourth 
 bottle. . But here other snares await 
 you : the mistress of the house—“ de- 
 “« lighted to find one man_ gallant 
 ‘« enough to desert his wine for the 
 ‘* ladies’ —immediately proposes to you 
 —<‘tocutinto a rubber.’ You might | 
 with ‘truth, perhaps, excuse yourself on 
 the plea—*“ that you are cut already ;” 
 but at all events, cut out if you wish to - 
 
132 
 
 avoid being cut up: or, at least, excuse 
 
 - yourself until you have taken coffee, 
 
 which of all beverages is the best cal-- | 
 culated to clear the head, and to fita 
 man for the learned society of the 
 Greeks. » This will, besides, afford you 7 
 an opportunity for displaying one of 
 the most valued qualities, and one the 
 rarest to be found, in all societies—that 
 of a patient listener: for, unless you 
 abstain from all conversation, on your 
 own part, until you can count every 
 light in the centre chandelier without 
 either blinking or doubling one of them 
 —a task not easily performed after the 
 fourth bottle—you had better not think 
 of whist for that night. Search, there- | 
 fore, for some garrulous giver of good | 
 
 dinners; throw yourself on the sofa 
 
133 
 
 beside him, and whilst he, ‘ good easy 
 man,” flatters himself that you are 
 relishing his vapid stories, and snuffs 
 up the incense of your silence, do you 
 sip the cordial of your coffee-cup in 
 .complete abstraction ; and, while fumi- 
 gating your brain with its aromatic. 
 steam, “secure to yourself the certainty 
 of an invitation to his choicest parties : 
 —this is what wary people call ‘killing 
 “ two birds with one stone.” 
 
 Coffee, besides stimulating the rea- 
 soning faculties, is one of the best di- 
 gestives with which we are acquainted ; 
 and we owe to it the inappreciable ad- 
 vantage of being enabled to eat much 
 more than we could venture to do, with 
 safety, were it not for the benign in- 
 
 fluence of its salutary aid, But then 
 
134 
 
 it must he swallowed hot, strong, and 
 
 without any infusion of that viscous 
 
 compound: which is, in London, mis-_ 
 
 named cream. It is a melancholy 
 
 fact, however, that in not one house in 
 ten, throughout England, do you ever 
 meet with it of even tolerable quality : 
 it is usually foul, flat, weak, and cold : 
 nay, we doubt. not that some of our 
 readers must have seen a simpering 
 miss, whilst presiding at the tea-table, 
 pour from. the half-cold urna quart of 
 water over about an ounce of burnt 
 powder placed in the fusty woollen bag 
 of a machine ycleped a biggin ; then, 
 when she had drenched the surround- 
 
 ing tabbies with the precious decoction, 
 
 replenish the machine with another 
 
 { 
 
 4. 
 
 libation, and so on, so longas they con- 
 
 ) ey aa p 
 
135 
 
 sented to be thus physicked; and this 
 the young lady would call—‘‘ making 
 es coffee 1?——but, ‘“* mutato nomine,” 
 &c. §e. It once fell to our own lot to | 
 - witness this profanation, in company 
 with a French count, who, in his own. 
 country, had been’ accustomed to the 
 very essence of mocha. He seemed to 
 watch the progress of the operation | 
 with some degree of curiosity; but 
 when a cup-full of ihe potion was pre- 
 sented to himself, he started back with 
 surprise and horror, and would, of 
 course, have declined it, had not the 
 lady of the house had the cruelty to tax 
 his politeness by declaring that, “ it 
 ‘‘ was prepared expressly for him.” 
 There was no longer any possibility of. 
 
 escape: he shuddered involuntarily, 
 
136 
 
 ‘“ erinned horribly a ghastly smile,” 
 and accepted it with that kind of des- 
 _ perate resolution which a man may be | 
 _supposed to exert who is forced to 
 swallow a dose of poison. We ob- 
 served him with a mixture of pity and 
 anxiety: he took two or three gulps 
 with much the same contortions that.a 
 child does rhubarb, when a violent fit 
 of coughing, either real or affected, 
 gave him a pretext to set down the cup 
 with such violence as to break it, and 
 at the same time to spill the remaining 
 contents over the robe of his fair per- 
 secutress :—the revenge was deep, but 
 suited to the injury, and no man can 
 say that it was unjustifiable. 
 
 Having gone into this digression 
 
 merely as a gentle hint to the ladies, — 
 
137 
 
 we shall now proceed to detail the most 
 approved method of extracting the vir- 
 tues of this salutiferous berry ; and, as 
 a pious sectary firmly believes that there 
 is but one road to salvation, so, be 
 assured, that there is but one way to 
 have good coffee—and that is, as fol- 
 lows— — ! 
 
 In the first place, presuming that 
 the coffee: itself is of prime quality— 
 erain small, round, hard, and clear ; 
 perfectly dry and sweet; and at least 
 three years old—let it be gently roasted 
 until it be of a light-brown colour ; 
 avoid burning it as you would your 
 own fingers, for a single scorched grain 
 will spoil a pound. Let this operation 
 be performed at the moment the coffee 
 
 is to. be used, and not sooner; then 
 
138 
 grind it while it is yet warm, and take, 
 - of the powder, an ounce for each cup 
 you intend to make; put this, along 
 with a small quantity of shredded saf- 
 
 fron, into the upper part of the machine 
 
 called'a grecque: thatis,a large coffee- 
 
 pot, with an upper receptacle made to 
 fit close into it, the bottom of. which is 
 perforated with small holes, and con- 
 
 taining in its interior two moveable 
 
 metal strainers, over the second of. 
 
 which the powder is to be placed, and 
 
 immediately under the third ; upon this | 
 
 upper strainer, pour boiling water— 
 mark—not from the urn, not merely 
 hot, but boiling—and continue to pour 
 it gently until it bubbles up through 
 the strainer ; ‘then shut the cover of the 
 
 machine close down, place it near the 
 
 Pe, 
 
1389 
 fire, and, so soon as the water has 
 drained through the coffee, repeat the 
 - operation until the whole intended 
 
 quantity be passed. ‘Thus shall you 
 
 retain all the fragrance of its perfume, 
 all the gusto of its flavor, with all the 
 balsamic and stimulating powers of its 
 
 essence; and obtain in afew moments— 
 
 without the aid of hartshorn-shavings, 
 
 isinglass, white of eggs, or any of the 
 trash with which, in the common mode 
 _of preparation, itis mixed—a beverage 
 for the gods. This is the true Parisian 
 
 mode of preparing coffee: the inven- 
 
 tion of it is due to Monsieur De Belloy, - 
 
 nephew to the cardinal of the same 
 name ; its discovery will doubtless rank 
 
 him in history amongst the greatest 
 
 men of the present age, as it has already 
 
 . ae a, 
 
 = . 
 2. ie 
 
140 
 
 raised his country to the highest pitch 
 of glory, and has incontestibly con- 
 ’ tributed more to the national happiness 
 than all the victories of Napoleon. 
 
 Liqueurs follow coffee as naturally 
 as night follows day: their influence 
 too is in some measure to be compared 
 to that cf the sable goddess ; for they 
 come like “balmy sleep,” after the 
 fatigues of along dinner, as the “ tired 
 ‘* stomach’s sweet restorers.”’ They 
 embalm it with the-spicy fragrance of 
 their odour, and strengthen it with the 
 tonic influence of their salutary spirit ; 
 while they titillate the palate with their 
 delicious flavor, and produce those 
 voluptuous extasies which are the ne 
 plus ultra of all human enjoyment. It 
 
 is a reproach to our country, that we 
 
14i 
 ‘yet possess none which deserve the title ; 
 unless indeed, we elevate to that rank 
 our humble cherry-bounce and rasp- 
 berry brandy. Of those which we. re- 
 ceive from abroad, it would puzzle Sir 
 Isaac Heard himself to regulate the 
 precedence :—each has its peculiar pre- 
 tensions and partisans :—Kirchwasser, 
 Dantzick, and Turin, ‘Cinnamon and 
 gold-waters, and Geneva-cordial are 
 vaunted by’ thosé who give the pre- 
 ' ference to strong tonics; Curacoa, the 
 elixir of Garus, and the Anisette of Bor- 
 deaux, are in request as more gentle 
 stimulants ; while the various Crémes, 
 —de Moka, d@ Arabie, de Mexique, de. 
 Rose, de Jasmin, de Muille-fleurs, and 
 ad Orange, the Huile de Venus, and 
 
 Parfait Amour, find constant advocates 
 
142 
 among the ladies. For our own part, we 
 consider none of these as comparable 
 to the Noyeau of Martinique—when it 
 can be procured genuine; but that, 
 alas! is scarcely to be hoped for, and 
 we have never tasted an imitation that 
 even approaches the seducing original 
 of the far-famed Madame Chassevent. 
 ‘In the regretted absence of this queen 
 of cordials—which may be truly termed 
 bottled velvet—we would ourself as- 
 sign the palm to the Maraschino of 
 Zara ; but here, again, we must protest 
 against counterfeits ; and more espe- 
 cially against that Neapolitan drug 
 Rosoglio, or, as our honest tars in 
 the Mediterranean not unaptly term it, 
 ‘* Roll-your-soul-out/”? But, “palmam 
 
 “< gui meruit ferat,’ it is not for us to 
 
_ 148 
 
 decide a contest of such moment; we 
 shall therefore leave our readers to wan- 
 der through this wilderness of sweets, 
 and cull a flower from each according 
 as taste or fancy may direct ; only en-— 
 treating them to bear in mind that, as 
 moderation is the essence of real enjoy- 
 ment—they should never exceed | six 
 cups of coffee and eight glasses of 
 
 hqueur. 
 
ESSAY XIV. 
 
 ON THE NATURE AND PROPERTIES OF THE 
 BRAISE$ WITH A CONCISE ACCOUNT OF 
 ITS ORIGIN, AND APPLICATION, 
 
 —<a—- 
 
 We are so much the creatures of 
 habit, that we daily perform many of 
 the most important functions of life 
 without being able to account for the 
 impulse by which we are guided ; and 
 are just as little acquainted with the 
 hidden motives which govern us, as 
 the lank-haired, long-eared, parish 
 clerk is with the reason for his crying 
 ‘¢ Amen” with the same nasal twang 
 at the end of a funeral prayer, a mar- 
 riage blessing, or a sentence of excom- 
 
 munication, ‘Thus, we every day eat 
 
145 
 bur meat @ la braise, without knowing 
 any more of the manner of preparing 
 it, than we do of the prescriptions with 
 | which apothecaries poison us; and, 
 although the braise is one of the most 
 momentous operations of the kitchen, 
 its principles are, generally, as little 
 understood as those of the most ab- 
 struse mathematical science, or of the 
 7 operation of the sinking fund. We 
 shall endeavour to explain it, according 
 _ to the rules laid down by the President 
 of the Royal Society, in the interesting 
 chemical lecture which he delivered at 
 his initiatory dinner. 
 
 In the common mode of dressing our 
 carneous aliments, either those parti- 
 _ cles which constitute the chief portion 
 of their savour evaporate on the spit'as 
 
 y 
 
146 
 fruitlessly as the sighs of an absent 
 lover, or their nutritive juices are — 
 ‘drained into the pot with as little ad. 
 vantage to our stomachs as if they had | 
 been drawn into the vortex of the ex- 
 chequer. To remedy these inconves 
 niencies, recourse is had to the braise, 
 which is thus performed :—The bottom _ 
 of astewpan is strewed with slices of © 
 bacon and of beef, chopped carrots, 
 onions, celery, fine-herbs, salt, pepper, 
 .. mace, and allspice: upon this bed— 
 more fragrant than if it were of roses— 
 is laid, in soft repose, the joimt which 
 is the special object of your care ; which _ 
 is then wrapped in a downy covering 
 of the same materials, and the curtain 
 of the lid is cautiously closed upon it. 
 
 It is then placed in the warm chamber 
 
147 
 
 of the portable furnace, and left to 
 ‘slumber in a state of gentle transpira- 
 tion, under the guardian protection of 
 -asylph of the kitchen, during as many 
 hours as the priestess of the temple 
 may deem salutary. When at length 
 taken up, it rivals the charms of Diana 
 newly risen from the bath; and when 
 “dressed in all its splendor — that is, 
 dished with its sauce — we question 
 whether the homage paid to the most 
 admired beauty on her first presentation 
 in the drawing-room was ever half so 
 ardent or sincere as that which it ree 
 ceives when it makes its entrée at the 
 table. The most homely leg of mutton 
 acquires, in this way, a degree of re- 
 finement which fits it for the highest 
 society: it may indeed be conjectured, 
 Hu 2 
 
148 
 
 that it cannot remain long in such inti- 
 
 mate union with the piquant associates 
 we have mentioned, without acquiringa 
 certain portion of taste; and it strongly 
 exemplifies the truth of that ancient 
 adage —“‘ tell me your company and Pll 
 ‘‘ tell you your manners.” Norare these 
 its only advantages : it imparts a cer- 
 tain yielding tenderness, peculiarly 
 
 agreeable to those who begin to feel 
 
 the effects of time upon their mastica- 
 
 tory powers, and who, although as fer- 
 jent as ever in their admiration, do not 
 altogether possess the vigor which dis- 
 tinguished the devotions of their youth. 
 
 The origin of this truly great im- 
 provement in the culinary art, was, as 
 
 we have been assured. by a learned 
 
 friend of deep research in such matters, - 
 
 as follows— 
 
149 
 
 3 There existed, at Paris, a “Consti- 
 “‘TUTIONAL AssociaTIon” whose ob- 
 ject was, not the persecution of printers, 
 
 but the encouragement of cooks. The 
 
 members, more attentive to the preser- 
 vation of their own constitution than © 
 that of the state, attempted no inter- 
 ference with any government but that 
 of the kitchen ; they supported no 
 party but that of dinner ; professed no 
 principles but those of good fellowship 
 and attachment to the table ; and were 
 actuated by no exclusive feelings of 
 _ preference for any administration but 
 that of the best maitre d’hétel. They 
 had long reflected with concern on the 
 apathy which seemed to reign among 
 the cooks, and had deliberated on the 
 means of giving some stimulus to their 
 
 H 3 
 
150 
 
 invention, but without coming to any | 
 
 determination, until the alternate ap- 
 pearance of boiled and roast turkey on 
 four successive club-days shewed the 
 
 absolute necessity for taking decisive | 
 
 measures. ‘The president, therefore, 
 
 after an elaborate speech, in which he — 
 
 detailed, with equal perspicuity and 
 force, the lamentable deficiency of the 
 ancient system, and pathetically de- 
 plored the disappointment it had oc- 
 casioned, proposed—that the silver 
 gridiron of the society should be of- 
 
 fered for the best essay on a new mode 
 
 of dressing turkey. The resolution 
 
 passed unanimously, and was attended 
 with the desired effect, A young artist 
 —called Le Gacque—whose name de- 
 seryes to be handed down to posterity 
 
 ia 
 
151 
 
 warmed by the offer, his imagination 
 : heated with the prospect of distinction, 
 and himself burning with emulation in 
 his profession, conceived the fortunate 
 idea of the braise. Buthis plan was not 
 adopted without opposition : the maitre 
 d’*hétel, a man of great experience and 
 distinguished reputation, and withal 
 sharp-set against reformers, represented 
 to the club, that it would be a dangerous 
 innovation on the established principles 
 which the society was particularly 
 bound to support; that no turkey was 
 ever so treated before ; and as it was a 
 measure which probably would fail in 
 the execution, his character was in- 
 terested in not countenancing it. To 
 these observations the president replied 
 —that the club had not come to so 
 me 
 
152 
 
 serious a determination without that 
 mature deliberation which the import- 
 ance of the subject required; that 
 however the nnovation might appear 
 to bea solecism in cookery, yet, the 
 association felt itself above publie opi- 
 nion, and, notwithstanding the failure 
 of some other trials, had resolved to 
 incur the risk of the experiment ; and 
 that, whatever might be the result, it 
 took the honor of the maitre d’hétel 
 under its special protection: in fine, 
 that its mandate was conclusive—a tur- 
 key must be braised; but in order to 
 afford the fairest opportunity of judging 
 the comparative merits of the different 
 modes, two other turkeys should be 
 dressed at the same time—one boiled, 
 
 the other roasted, 
 
153 
 
 Monsieur Le Gacque got not a wink 
 of sleep that night: he turned as often 
 in his bed as if he had been himself 
 upon the spit; and he contemplated 
 the approaching trial of his skill with 
 all the a):\iety that may be supposed to 
 agitate an author on the first represen- 
 tation of his play. | The maitre d’hdtel 
 —with a rare disinterestedness in the 
 head of a department—threw no offi- 
 
 cial impediments in the way; and on the 
 
 appointed day, the several candidates 
 
 smoked upon the board. The interval 
 which elapsed before their pretensions 
 were finally discussed, was the most 
 anxious of Monsieur Le Gacque’s ex- 
 istence ; nor was he entirely relieved 
 from suspense on being summoned to | 
 hear the decision, as he could not but 
 HO 
 
154 
 
 perceive, that the three turkeys had 
 wholely disappeared among the thirteen 
 members of the committee to whom the 
 judgment was referred. But this was 
 soon explained by the chairman as the — 
 consequence of that rigid impartiality 
 ~ which required that every particle of 
 
 the evidence produced should be ex- 
 amined with scrupulous attention, with- 
 out which they could not do justice to 
 the merits of each, and, consequently, 
 that no accurate conclusion could be 
 arrived at until they had picked every 
 bone. He proceeded to say—that hav- 
 ing gone through that arduous duty 
 with entire satisfaction to themselves, it 
 only remained for him to declare, that 
 the sense of the committee was so de- 
 
 cidedly in favour of the discovery of 
 
— 155 
 
 Monsieur Le Gacque, that it felt not 
 the least hesitation in recommending 
 it to the adoption of the association, 
 and unanimously awarded him the grid- 
 iron. 
 
 This resolution was confirmed ata 
 subsequent general meeting of the 
 clab, and a minute was inserted on 
 their registers, concluding with the fol- 
 lowing remarkable lines, which we 
 have translated literally from the ori- 
 ginal :— 
 
 That “turkey boil’d 
 “ Ts turkey spoil’d, 
 « And turkey roast 4 
 © Ts turkey lost ;— 
 
 « But, for turkey braised, 
 «« The Lord be praised !” 
 
 We must however observe, that a note 
 H 6 
 
156 
 
 appears upon the protocol .of this re- 
 cord—but in a different hand from the 
 original—that there was an exception 
 made in favour of roasted turkey, 
 “© when stuffed with truffles.” 
 
 This last decision will no doubt be 
 admitted as the most convincing proof — 
 of the equity, the ‘moderation, and the 
 
 discernment of this truly valuable as- 
 sociation, 
 
ESSAY XV. 
 
 ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE STOMACH 
 WITH RULES FOR THE BETTER REGULA- 
 TION OF APPETITE AND DIGESTION. 
 
 Tues is an old proverb which has 
 always appeared to us to concentrate 
 more good sense and profound reflec- 
 tion than all other maxims of morality 
 put together—“ eat to hve, ann lve to 
 “eat.” Weare aware that some de- 
 signing persons substitute the word 
 “< not” for ‘‘ and,’ by which they des- 
 troy the meaning and the whole value 
 of the axiom; but no reflecting man 
 will be at a loss to discover, that it is 
 
 an interpolation of those envious re- 
 
158 
 
 formers who, having nothing to eat 
 themselves, would persuade us to stint 
 _ our own precious stomachs, in order to 
 ruin the revenue, and to deprive minis- 
 ters of cabinet dinners; whereas the 
 object of every good citizen ought to 
 _ be, to multiply dinners by every means 
 in his power. These men have no 
 bowels, and are quite as ferocious as 
 those political economists who tell us 
 that we should cut each other’s throats 
 to avoid starvation. For our own part, 
 we hear more frequent complaint of 
 the want of appetite than of food— 
 indeed we have it from the highest 
 authority, that whatever distress there 
 may be in the country is entirely owing 
 to too great plenty !—and so far from 
 
 abetting the unnatural system of starv- 
 
159 
 
 ing the finances through ourselves, we 
 always. look upon those persons whose 
 stomachs appear to be bomb-proof, and 
 who commit as great havoc at a dinner | 
 as a cossack while laying waste an ene- 
 my’s country, as not only the most 
 loyal subjects ofthe state, but the most 
 valuable members of society, and the 
 most favored mortals of the creation. 
 Such men may eat as often as they 
 please, and thus multiply their joys in 
 endless” succession: but persons of 
 weaker constitution, or those whose 
 stomachs at length begin to submit to 
 the toils of a long protracted warfare, 
 should husband their forces with more 
 caution. A valetudinarian is, indeed, 
 placed between the alternative of ab- 
 
 stinence and medicine ; and is, in fact, 
 
_ 160 ar 
 in a situation directly the reverse of 
 that of an ass between two bundles of 
 hay. 
 
 These veterans should only take the 
 field during the general engagement of 
 dinner, and should abandon the out- 
 post skirmishes of _stcond break fast, 
 luncheon, tea, and supper, to younger 
 and less experienced combatants ; al-— 
 ways bearing in mind that ‘ prudence ~ 
 ‘is the better part of valour,” and that 
 an epicure whose stomach is out of 
 order, is of no more use than a grena- 
 dier at the hospital. Let them eat but. 
 once a day:—alas! so fragile is our 
 nature, that this is not the only instance 
 in which our enjoyments are thus li- 
 mited :—but let them dine well ; solid- 
 
 ly, Jeisurely, and with all the calm of 
 
161 
 
 the most perfect self-possession ; let 
 them display vigour in their attack, de- 
 
 , Tiberation in their aim, ardour in the 
 pursuit; and when obliged to quit the 
 field, let their retreat be cool and steady. 
 So far the appetite: but that gained 
 
 and satisfied, the day is not yet won 
 until the digestion be complete; and 
 this grand point will never be attained 
 without due attention to the mode of 
 conducting the previous operations, so 
 
 as to secure the full benefit of their 
 finaladvantages. Not only isit wholely 
 destructive of all rational enjoyment to 
 swallow down one’s meat without tak- 
 ing proper time to comment upon its 
 merits, and expatiate upon the happi- 
 ness it procures us—or, in other words, 
 
 to chew it with measure and reflection, 
 
162 
 
 and turn it as often as a minister does 
 a new measure of finance before he can 
 render it palatable—but, on this tritu- 
 ration depends not alone the ineffable 
 pleasure to be derived from expressing 
 and compounding the juices of the ~ 
 viands and the flavor of the sauces, 
 but the important object, also, of their 
 undisturbed repose during the process 
 of digestion. 
 
 It has been calculated by a learned 
 physician, who devoted the greatest 
 part of a long life to experiments upon — 
 his own stomach, that a mouthful of 
 solid meat requires thirty-two bites, of 
 a perfect set of teeth, to prepare it for 
 deglutition. Now it unfortunately hap- 
 pens, that but few of those who have 
 arrived at that period of life when the — 
 
: _ 163 
 - substantial joys of the table supersede 
 more evanescent pleasures, possess their 
 masticators unworn by the edge of time 
 and service ; itis, therefore, impossible 
 to lay down any fixed rule on the sub- 
 ject. But, as a man who plays at 
 hazard should be perfect master of the 
 odds on every main and chance, in 
 order to enable him to bet and hedge 
 with advantage, so, every one who 
 ‘sets at the great game of dinner should 
 accurately calculate the respective num- 
 ber and strength of his grinders and 
 incisors, in order to determine, in the 
 . first place, the steak* on which he will 
 venture, and in the next the quantum 
 
 of labour to be bestowed on it. It is 
 
 — * Query—Siake. N, Ed, 
 
164 
 
 inconceivable how much valuable time 
 may thus be saved, which would other- 
 wise be wasted in unprofitable specu- 
 lation; and while you are actively em- 
 ployed on one dish with your teeth, 
 you may devour the remainder. with’ 
 your eyes. : 
 
 The next point to be attended to is, 
 that repose which will afford the di- 
 gestive faculties the undisturbed exer- 
 cise of their powers. By repose we do ° 
 not meansleep ; that could be obtained 
 by listening to some of the prosing 
 stories which we have already supposed 
 you to have affected to lend a patient 
 ear to while taking your coffee ; or by 
 reading a political pamphlet, or the last 
 new poem; or, in short, in a hundred 
 
 . other ways, all equally effective as lau- 
 
et Te 
 4 
 
 - danum: no; what we allude to, is that 
 
 165 
 
 perfect composure of the mind which 
 
 is unbroken by any effort of imagina- 
 
 tion, and unobtruded upon by any thing 
 that can be called an idea. To obtain 
 this enviable degree of tranquillity, you 
 may either visit the opera, or a conver- 
 
 sazione ; or, if you happen to be an 
 
 M.P., and there should be a debate on 
 
 the supplies, you may stroll to the 
 
 house; for having already secured your 
 
 own share, it cannot afford you any 
 anxiety. But, as you value your com- 
 fort that night, and your appetite next 
 day, we charge you to avoid the perusal 
 of the correspondence you may find 
 upon your table on your return home: 
 for, whether it consist of attorneys’ 
 
 letters, tradesmen’s bills, or billets-doux, 
 
166 | 
 you may be assured that they are all filled 
 with either threats, solicitations, or re- 
 proaches ; and will be equally fatal to— 
 the serenity of your temper and the 
 renovation of your stomach, If, how- 
 ever, notwithstanding these our injunc- 
 tions, the deemon of curiosity should 
 tempt you to their inspection, and that 
 your nerves should consequently be 
 agitated by either dread, regret, or ire 
 —those enemies to repose—we recom- 
 mend _ to you the following draught, as 
 an opiate, to be taken on retiring to 
 rest—take equal parts of brandy and 
 rum, (each a large wine glass-full) halt 
 aglass of arrack, and the same quantity 
 of curagoa: to these, add the juice of 
 two small limes, and the rind ( peeled 
 
 thin) of one, with quant. suff, of re- 
 
167 
 
 fined sugar to render the whole palat« 
 able; then pour in double the quantity 
 
 of strong decoction of gunpowder-tea 
 
 4 (boiling hot) with two glasses of warm 
 - calf’s feet jelly ; stir well together, and 
 swallow instanter, This mixture will 
 be found by no means uupleasant ; and 
 ‘if it fail of the desired effect, it can 
 only be, because either your conscience, 
 
 or your stomach, is overloaded. 
 
ESSAY XVI. 
 
 ON THE FINANCIAL IMPORTANCE OF TEETH; 
 CONTAINING SOME VALUABLE HINTS TO 
 STATESMEN, ? | 
 
 ie 
 
 Tue consideration of the subject 
 of which we have treated in the pre- 
 ceding essay, has led us to that of | the 
 general use and value of teeth; and 
 the more we have reflected on it, the 
 more surprise have we felt that it 
 should hitherto have escaped the vigi- 
 lance of the Chancellor of the Exche- 
 quer. If it be a maxim in taxation 
 ‘¢ that luxuries are its fittest objects,’’ 
 where shall we find any greater ?—and 
 if universal use, and ease in the collec- 
 
 tion, be further inducements, we know 
 
 ¢ 
 
169 
 
 of none that come more immediately 
 within that description, or that may be 
 made more largely productive to the 
 revenue—than teeth. As we throw 
 this out merely as a hint, it is no part 
 of our object to discuss the amount of 
 the assessment, or the various modifi- 
 cations to which it must necessarily be — 
 subject; but we would submit, that the 
 charge ought to be per tooth, witha 
 proportionate reduction for stumps, and 
 that some allowance should be made to 
 those who give satisfactory proof that 
 they are unremittingly afflicted with 
 the tooth-ache. 
 
 On the other hand, we would in- 
 crease the rates on some particular 
 _ species—as, for instance, dequorish-tceth, 
 and colt’s-teeth; and we would press 
 
 I 
 
170 
 
 heavily on fadse-teeth as articles of the 
 highest luxury. Indeed, the latter we 
 think, ought to be rated, like the as- 
 sessed taxes, by a progressively en- 
 creasing scale; with a clause in the 
 act, allowing a full set to be com- 
 pounded for. There should also be - 
 a clause, subjecting persons to heavy 
 fines who should be proved guilty of 
 having wilfully had their teeth drawn, 
 with a view to defraud the revenue ; 
 and it should be highly penal, in future, 
 for any person to knock another’s teeth 
 down his throat. — 
 
 Where there are no other means 
 of compelling payment, collectors of 
 the taxes might be empowered to put. 
 a distress into the mouth of the de- 
 
 - faulter, and to take the amount in 
 
171 
 
 kind: they have all been too long ac- 
 customed to every mode of screwing, 
 to feel in the least ata loss in wrenching 
 aman’s teeth out of his head. 
 it has been observed: to us, that some 
 ill-natured fellows might seize this op-. 
 portunity to deprive their wives for ever 
 of the means of snapping at them, and, 
 with that view, mightleave them to pay 
 the tax in kind ; but the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer—who, whatever some 
 people may think, certainly has got his 
 eye-teeth about him—is not to be bitten 
 in-that way, and would of course make 
 them answerable in their own persons. 
 There was also another objection 
 started, which, we confess, somewhat 
 puzzled us: that was, the injustice of 
 making aliens liable to it who came 
 
 1 2 
 
 od 
 
172 
 
 into the country for a short time only, 
 and the difficulty of preventing frauds 
 if they were to be exempted. But, 
 upon mentioning this to a particular 
 friend, who is a Commissioner of the 
 Customs, he at once relieved our em- 
 barrassment, by proposing—with all 
 that liberality and discernment for which 
 the board to which he belongs is so 
 conspicuous—to extend to such persons 
 the benefit of the bonding system ; 
 that is, that on their arrival in this 
 country, they may enter their teeth for 
 exportation, by which means— on 
 merely submitting to have them drawn 
 —they may be warehoused until their 
 departure, when they would be re- — 
 turned without duty. To an arrange- 
 
 ment so equitable as this, of course no 
 
173 
 ais: 
 objection could. be found; and the 
 7 ‘whole plan has already received the 
 decided approbation of every one to 
 whom we have communicated it, with 
 the eStegtion of one country gentleman, 
 “who, indeed, muttered something about 
 grinding, and seemed to think that 
 teeth would soon become useless. 
 There are no doubt persons who, en- 
 tertaining a deep-rooted antipathy to 
 all taxation, will make observations 
 upon it equally hollow and unsound ; 
 will draw false conclusions from our 
 strongest premises, and extract a wrong 
 sense from the plainest meaning; and 
 will, in short, oppose every operation of 
 the ministry both tooth and nail. Such 
 men keep their wits on edge to torture 
 the meaning of the fast friends of order 
 13 
 
174 
 and regular government, and to put 
 words into their mouths from which 
 they may be considered as the instru- 
 ments of oppression ; and so loose are 
 their principles, that they ‘would not 
 hesitate to root out all revenue, and 
 thus destroy the nerves, and plug up 
 thé resources of the state. But we 
 flatter ourself that the suspicion of 
 wishing to place any impediment in the 
 way of the free exercise of the jaws 
 can never be thrown in our teeth: in- 
 deed, our disinterestedness in submit- 
 ting the plan thus publicly to Ministers 
 is self-evident ; while we shall also be 
 peculiarly exposed to its operation, for, 
 whatever allowance we might expect in 
 our own person or that of our family, 
 
 on the score of stumps, will be more 
 
175 
 than counterbalanced by the extra 
 _ charge on false-teeth, which we have, 
 notwithstanding, had the magnanimity 
 to suggest. We may also observe, that 
 whatever the enemies of the measure 
 may assert, they cannot call that which 
 will oblige every man in the kingdom 
 to open his mouth—a gagging act: and 
 as it will, we have no doubt, be brought 
 forward in the next session, and passed 
 in spite of their teeth, we strenuously 
 advise the opposition to chew the cud 
 upon it during the recess, and neither 
 by picking out technical flaws, or snap- 
 ping at trifling objections, ‘“ to shew 
 ‘“‘ their teeth before they can bite ;” 
 nor yet, should they chop upon a stray 
 majority on the first reading—“ to hol- 
 ‘¢ low before they are out of the wood.” 
 . 14 
 
ESSAY XVII. 
 ON EDUCATION, AND THE APPLICATION OF 
 THE SCIENCE OF MNEMONICS; TOGETHER 
 
 WITH SOME HINTS TO TRAVELLERS, AND 
 PUBLIC SOCIETIES. : 
 
 ————— 
 
 Ir has often afforded matter of sur- 
 prise to us, that, while all our schools 
 seem fully sensible of the inconve- 
 nience of filling the stomachs of the 
 pupils with wholesome beef and mut- 
 ton, they yet see no impropriety in 
 cramming their heads with hard and 
 indigestible Greek and Latin; and 
 force them to waste their time in poring 
 over musty authors, which they never 
 afterwards remember, or which, if re- 
 membered, are not worth the pains, 
 
 while our shelves are loaded with valu- 
 
177 
 
 able treatises on cookery, which, when 
 
 once read, can never be forgotten. We 
 
 cannot help thinking, that it would 
 be productive of the most important 
 results to society, if children, instead 
 of reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses, 
 
 were instructed in those of Mrs. Glasse, 
 
 and then proceeded) through a regu-: 
 
 lar course of culinary classics, includ- 
 ing the whole range of English litera- 
 ture from “ SMurvrell’s Bickshawes’”’ 
 and  SMap’s Accomplishede Cooke,” 
 down to “Nurr’s Comptere Con- 
 “© FECTIONER,” ‘“ Apicius Reprvi- 
 “ vus,’ and “Simpson’s Brus or 
 * Pare,” until they reached the French 
 ‘“* Cours Gastronomique,’’ and were able 
 to enjoy the “ Almanach des Gour- 
 » as a book of amusement as 
 15 
 
 “ mands, 
 
ee 
 
 178 
 
 wellas study. We have ourself pursued © 
 
 _ this plan with a boy wliom we have been 
 
 led to suppose our own; and who, in- 
 deed, already displays all the distinctive 
 qualities of his illustrious grandsire. So 
 well has he profited by the lessons he has 
 received, that before he had well attained 
 his thirteenth year, he had acquired the 
 envied appellation of alderman—a pre- 
 Sage, we trust, of his future greatness : 
 —after perfecting him in all that was 
 worth learning in England, we have 
 sent him to France, where, such are his 
 powers, he eomplains that the table of 
 the college where he is placed, does 
 not afford scope enough for the exer- 
 cise of his talents; and we make no 
 
 doubt, that if removed to the University 
 
 of Paris, he would cut a distinguished 
 
179 
 figure amongst the disciples of Pro- 
 fessors Véry and Beauvilliers. 
 
 But it has more particularly oc- 
 curred to us, that the science of Mne- 
 monics, which has lately attracted such 
 attention in this country, could be 
 adapted to some of the purposes of | 
 education with much greater effect than 
 has been yet attempted. Our present 
 application of the science is generally 
 obscure, often absurd, and sometimes 
 ‘even unintelligible. Thus, who can 
 discover any analogy between ladies 
 and loose-fish, ov between the gentle- 
 men of Essex and their calves? Why 
 is it that a leech should be supposed to 
 remind us of an attorney, or arat of 
 an M.P.? Whence arises it, that, if 
 you see a fellow reeling through the 
 
 16 
 
180 
 
 streets, you say—*“ he is as drunk asa. 
 « lord” — although it is very well 
 known that: lords never get drunk at 
 all! or that, when you perceive a pre- 
 cise-looking, formal gentleman, with a 
 measured step and a set countenance, 
 talking common-place morality in a 
 solemn tone of dictatorial consequence, 
 you call him “a saint,” although you 
 are persuaded that he is only a hypo- 
 crite? ‘These, to be sure, are all rather 
 extravagant instances ; but our readers 
 will easily recollect others not less in- 
 applicable, and as such assimilations 
 are generally arbitrary, they are often 
 calculated to lead us astray. The study 
 of geography alone appears to us not 
 liable to this objection, and we flatter 
 ourself with being able to show, that 
 
 Mnemonics are susceptible of being 
 
18! 
 
 applied to it in a manner that has not 
 hitherto occurred to the learned profes-. 
 sor who. has distinguished. te Eby 
 that method of instruction. ? 
 The object of Mnemonics being, to 
 imprint one recollection on the mind 
 by its association with another, the 
 more agreeable the symbol is made to 
 the imagination, the more likely will it 
 be to take root in the memory :—such 
 is the theory on which it is founded. 
 We propose to go a step farther, and to 
 ensure its indelible impression, by im- 
 planting it in the stomach. Thus, on — 
 commencing with an infant, we would 
 imprint. Shrewsbury and Banbury on 
 his mind through the medium of their 
 cakes ; the Isle of Wight by its crack- 
 nells; Kent by its cherries; Norfolk 
 
182 
 
 by its biffins; and Sussex through its 
 dumplings. As he advanced in taste 
 and erudition, and after the several re- 
 markable places in his own land had ~ 
 thus been rendered familiar to him, 
 we would have him proceed with those 
 of foreign countries, and there -are 
 few but would afford him the most 
 agreeable recollection of their names 
 through their distinctive products in 
 either liquors or eatables; of which 
 especial care should be taken to make 
 him taste regularly as he went on. 
 Such a mode of study would, besides, 
 be attended with these peculiar advan- 
 tages :—it would, doubtless, be pursued 
 with more eagerness than the meagre 
 plan at present adopted ; the instruction 
 
 to be received by it would be solid; 
 
183 
 
 and even persons of mature age, whose 
 education had been neglected in their 
 youth, would find it neither dry nor 
 unprofitable. | 
 In this manner, geography, which 
 has hitherto been little more than a 
 mere science of empty names, would 
 “be engrafted on one of real utility : 
 travellers would no longer find it so 
 necessary to carry astronomical, as cu- 
 linary instruments ; instead of planetary 
 they would make alimentary observa- 
 tions ; they would visit markets in pre-— 
 ference to libraries ; and in lieu of dis- 
 cussions with academicians, they would 
 have consultations with cooks. - While 
 those of the old school would be tor- 
 turing their brains to decipher the un- 
 
 intelligible fragments of some worth- 
 
184 
 
 Jess inscription, these would be com- 
 forting their stomachs with the sub- 
 stantial contents of agood dinner; in- 
 stead of returning at last with musty 
 old manuscripts which no one under- 
 stands, and with the mutilated legs 
 and arms of statues which, though 
 nobody can eat, every body seems to 
 grudge us—they would come home 
 with receipts for new dishes and spe- 
 cimens of foreign dainties, far more 
 agreeable to a man of real taste, and 
 which they could acquire without rob- 
 bing either churches or temples ; and 
 thus we should become at once sood 
 geographers and excellent cooks. We 
 know of only two travellers who have 
 as yet distinguished themselves in this 
 
 way; but the information displayed in 
 
185 
 
 the “ forced journey” of the one, and 
 “the « sporting tour” of the other, is far 
 more valuable than that afforded by all 
 the rest of the classical tourists of the 
 age put together. Their deserved ce- 
 lebrity will, we trust, serve to excite 
 the emulation of those who are bitten 
 by the touromania of the day, and tend 
 eventually to enrich their country with 
 all the delicacies of every quarter of 
 the globe. ; 
 
 We leave our readers to meditate 
 on this text: the intelligent and en- 
 lightened, but above all, the gastro- 
 nomical, among them, will be at no 
 loss to extend the commentary : indeed 
 we think the hint well worthy the 
 attention of government; and we would 
 
 yenture to suggest, that no voyage of 
 
186 
 
 discovery should in future be under- 
 taken without a special instruction on 
 this subject. We do not know whether 
 this may not have been already done in 
 the case of the expedition to the north 
 pole. These adventurous navigators do 
 not, indeed, seem to have, as yet, met 
 with much success in that respect; but 
 we understand there isa race of people 
 bordering on the arctic regions, who 
 are eminently skilled in the dressing ~ 
 of the fins and tails of whales, and 
 the preservation of bears’ paws; and, 
 if a communication could be once 
 opened with them, we have no doubt 
 of some important results being yet 
 obtained from the voyage. 
 
 We also beg leave most respectfully 
 to submit to that philanthropic body, 
 
187 
 
 the Missionary Society, the expediency 
 of promoting this great object through 
 the medium of their agents and corres- 
 pondents in the East. Enlightened as 
 the age is, we are yet utterly in the dark 
 respecting that far-famed delicacy, the 
 birds’ nests of the Chinese; our cata- 
 logue of curries is lamentably deficient; 
 and our cooks are as ignorant of the 
 true method of boiling rice as of the 
 tenets of the Braminical faith. Now, 
 if instructions were given to those 
 reverend gentlemen, who seem to be 
 wasting their logic and their time 
 among the Hindoos, just to bestow a 
 little attention on these important sub- 
 jects, they would convert more Christian 
 unbelievers in the utility of their 
 mission than they now do heathens, 
 
- 488 
 
 and there can be rio doubt of the sub- 
 scriptions being greatly augmented the 
 moment it is known that there is an 
 attainable objectin view. = | 
 We likewise strenuously exhort 
 those pious persons, the Branch-Bible- 
 Society’s Committee-Ladies—who have 
 so charitably relinquished the mending 
 of their own stockings for the sake of 
 patching their neighbours’ souls—to 
 contribute their now useless stock of 
 household receipts to be printed for the 
 general benefit. _ Such a publication 
 would better establish the fame of the 
 society than all the windy speeches in 
 which the members echo each others 
 praises throughout the Egyptian Hall, 
 and would render a much more essen- 
 
 tial service than most of the crude and 
 
189 _ 
 
 undigested homilies that daily issue 
 a the press for our admonition ; 
 
 while our fair instructresses might say 
 _ —what few of the most orthodox can 
 _ boast—that their precepts would merit 
 attention, for that, in truth, they prac- 
 tise as they preach, 
 
 Such subscriptions would besides, 
 possess the inappreciable advantage of 
 not taking any money out of their hus- 
 band’s pockets ; and would relieve 
 themselves from the imputation of be- 
 longing to a sect— 
 
 “ More peevish, cross, and splenetick, 
 
 « Than dog distract, or monkey sick ; 
 
 «© Who quarrel with mine’d pies, and disparage 
 «¢ Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge ; 
 «« Fat pig and goose itself oppose, 
 
 « And blaspheme custard through the nose !” 
 
 Hupieras, Canto I. 
 
ESSAY XVIil. 
 
 ON THE QUALIFICATIONS OF COOKS —THE 
 COMPARATIVE IMPORTANCE OF THE MI- 
 
 LITARY AND CULINARY ARTS — AND ? 
 
 FRENCH COOKS: WITH SOME ACCOUNT 
 OF THE LIFE OF THE CELEBRATED WATEL. 
 
 —_ 
 
 Tue assemblage of qualifications re- 
 quisite in a perfect cook, renders the 
 profession one of the most arduous, as 
 it unquestionably is the most important, 
 
 in the whole range of the sciences. 
 
 A cook, to be thoreughly accom- 
 
 plished, should not only be deeply 
 versed in all the arcana of the kitchen, 
 but should possess an intimate know- 
 ledge of ichthyology, zoology, anatomy, 
 botany, and chemistry ; should be en- 
 
 dowed with profound observation, solid 
 
“ald 
 i 
 r 
 
 191 
 
 judgement, unremitting vigilance, and 
 
 incorruptible sobriety ; but, above all, 
 
 should be impressed with a strong sense 
 
 of the value of the art, and stimulated 
 by the ardor of professional emulation. 
 We have heard a great deal of the 
 power of the espret de corps in the army : 
 but, for our part, we look upon it to be 
 something like wind in the stomach— 
 
 more vapour than substance—nor do 
 
 we’know of any value it possesses but 
 
 that of getting men spitted hke larks, 
 
 and sent out of the world before their 
 
 time; whereas, the same spirit infused 
 into a legion of cooks, tends to the pre- 
 servation of life, instead of its destruc- 
 tion, and is productive of the most 
 salutary results to political, as well as 
 
 domestic, economy. The statesman, 
 
192 
 
 who looks only to its general effect, 
 should therefore encourage it in pre- 
 ference, aS promoting that greatest of 
 all national objects the support of the 
 constitution, the strength of which can 
 in no way be so well maintained ; and 
 it is, doubtless, this which all very loyal 
 men have in view when they talk of 
 devoting their lives and fortunes ; for, 
 in fact, who would hesitate between the 
 choice of a bullet or a beef-steak in the 
 thorax, or between having his guts 
 run through with cold steel or filled 
 with a hot dinner? But, as the spirit 
 of the army would lie dormant unless 
 roused by the voice of public approba- 
 tion, so, the emulation of our cooks is 
 repressed by the want of that powerful 
 
 stimulant to great actions. Whatever 
 
193 
 
 may be the praises bestowed on a din- 
 ner, the host never thinks of declaring 
 
 the name of the artist who produced it; 
 and while half the great men in London 
 owe their estimation in society solely 
 to the excellence of their tables, the 
 cooks on whose talents they have risen 
 languish ‘‘ unknown to fame” in those 
 subterraneous dungeons of the metro-— 
 polis termed kitchens. In France, on 
 the contrary, a man’s cook is his pride ; 
 he glories in his feats beyond all the 
 exploits of his ancestors; and, indeed, 
 the most zealous devotee of musty ge- 
 nealogies must admit—that a live cook 
 is at any time worth a dead general. 
 To this it is that the French are in- 
 debted for those professors of the art 
 who have raised the national glory to 
 
 K 
 
194 
 
 “that pitch which is now their greatest 
 boast; and until we imitate them in 
 this respect, we must either be content 
 to be dependent on them for all our | 
 tolerable artists, or to put up with the 
 plain roast and boiled, and the meagre 
 catalogue of made-dishes of our own 
 fat kitchen-wenches. We would rather 
 fan the blaze of competition, than blow 
 the embers of discord, between the 
 _ cooks of the respective countries ; and 
 itis merely with a view to kindle the 
 former, and to show of what self-devo- 
 tion a cook is capable—as well as a 
 soldier—when his zeal for the honor 
 of his profession is properly encouraged, 
 that we relate the following instance of 
 culinary esprit de corps. 
 
 The history of the reign of Lewis the 
 
em 
 ou 
 
 195 
 
 Fourteenth—so fertile in great men of 
 
 every class—has preserved the record 
 
 of one eminent professor of the science 
 
 of cookery, whose name will descend 
 to posterity with the honors of martyr- 
 dom, and to whose fame we feel a just 
 pride in adding the tribute of our ad- 
 miration and regret. 
 
 Cuarces Aveusrus ARMAND Wa- 
 TEL was descended from an ancient 
 
 family, of cooks, long settled’ in the 
 
 University of Toulouse, so celebrated 
 
 for its learning and its pates of ducks’ 
 livers. History is silent on the subject 
 of his early education; and we only 
 learn, that from his most tender years 
 he evinced a decided preference for the 
 science of eating. But we may con- 
 jecture that he was brought up in the 
 
 Kk 2 
 
196 
 
 most orthodox culinary principles ; for 
 the memoirs of the times represent him 
 as having taken an important degree 
 in the. kitchen of an archbishop at a 
 time of life when few of his young 
 associates had advanced beyond the 
 rank of under graduate. From _ that 
 _ period he advanced rapidly to the high- 
 est honors of his profession, until, at 
 length, we find him chief cook to the 
 great Prince of Condé—a master hardly 
 less distinguished in the annals of his- 
 tory than himself. Here it was that 
 he immortalized himself by the inven- 
 tion of the Cételettes a la Muazntenon, 
 
 and the discovery of Caésup*, to which 
 
 * « Cat-sup’”—We have adopted the cus- 
 tomary orthography of this word, but wemust here 
 enter our most decided protest against it. Upon. 
 
‘1 BS 
 
 Pree Cibep * 
 _ Site eons 
 zr 
 
 197 
 
 we owe sc much of our real enjoyments ; 
 
 and here, alas | it was that he ended his 
 
 -aWdae) Fig ie fa, Sa 3 : 
 brilliant career, at a moment when 
 
 -science.had still to expect from him the 
 
 noblest efforts of his genius. ‘There are 
 various accounts of the circumstances 
 which led to the catastrophe ; but the 
 statement most to be relied upon, is as 
 follows :—> “ii 
 
 The Prince had invited a large party 
 
 of the first nobility to dine with him, 
 
 and the repast was ordered in all the 
 
 profusion which reigned in those days, 
 
 what principle of analogy that which is a sup 
 for an epicure can be termed a sup for a cat, we 
 know not; and we submit to etymologists, 
 whether the common pronunciation “ ketchup’? 
 or “ catch-up,” i.e. “ to snap-up’’—“ to swallow 
 “ eagerly” is not more consistent with orthoépy 
 and probable derivation. 
 
 fe R 
 
198 
 
 and all the magnificence which became 
 the entertainer and his guests. At that 
 period sea-fish (never plentiful at Paris) 
 
 was a rarity of most difficult attainment, 
 and, consequently, in the highest re- 
 
 quest. Watel, determined, on this occa- 
 ‘sion, to out-do all his competitors, and to 
 raise his master to the very pinnacle of 
 fame, had arranged an entirescourse of 
 fish—to consist of forty-eight dishes— 
 
 and, to make sure of having each in per- 
 fection, he had despatched a special 
 
 messenger to the nearest sea-port, whose 
 
 return was so calculated as that he 
 
 should arrive in Paris with his convoy 
 
 on the morning of the féte. But 
 
 the most important events of life are 
 
 often subordinate to the most trivial 
 
199 
 
 occurrences :—the messenger got drunk. 
 
 on the road, and overstaid his time; 
 the appointed morning arrived, but 
 
 along with it no fish made its appear- 
 
 ance. The hours rolled on, and hope sus- 
 
 tained the sinking spirits of Watel until 
 
 hope itself could cheat him no longer : 
 
 he then took a step which at an earlier 
 
 hour might have been attended with 
 
 some success—he went to market—but 
 
 it was too late—all the fish was gone. 
 
 Thus foiled in all his plans, deprived 
 of his last resource, fevered by the state 
 of agitation in which he had been held, 
 and goaded, it is said, by the taunts 
 of a fellow-cook, who envied his re- 
 putation, and who reprvached him with 
 the ‘pretty kettle of fish he had 
 K 4 
 
200 
 
 ‘“¢ made of it,”? he, in a moment of des- 
 pair, resolved not to survive his dis- 
 grace; and, retiring to the pantry— 
 stabbed himself to the heart with a sil- | 
 ver skewer. : oa 
 
 Thus fell Watel! — Contemporary 
 authors speak of him, as they do of 
 other great characters, in terms rather 
 dictated by party spirit than the digni- 
 fied impartiality of history; and one— 
 who evidently never partook ofa dinner 
 prepared by him—has even ventured to 
 affirm, that he was poisoned by one of 
 his own ragouts. Whatever our own 
 admiration of the course he meditated, 
 we shall not attempt to palliate that 
 which he adopted; and although our 
 
 respect inclines us to draw a veil over 
 
201 
 
 his infirmities, we must yet admit, that 
 his memory would have been freer 
 from reproach, if he had dished up 
 dinner before he dished himself. 
 
 Peace to his illustrious shade! He 
 has proved that the spirit of honor 
 reigns in the kitchen as well as the 
 camp, and fires the breasts of cooks as 
 well as soldiers; and although, in this 
 philosophic age, his successors seem to 
 prefer the pleasure of living at their 
 masters’ expense to the glory of dying 
 for their reputation, yet may we hope 
 that his generous self-devotion will 
 rouse their emulation, or, at least, re-_ 
 
 mind them—never to forget the fish. 
 
ESSAY XIX. 
 
 ON THE HEALTH AND THE MORALS OF COOKS 
 —WITH SOME IMPORTANT RULES FOR THE 
 CONDUCT OF FEMALE PROFESSORS. 
 
 ee 
 
 Every master of a house who has 
 the least regard for his own reputation 
 will doubtless be equally attentive to 
 that of his cook: we deem it, there- 
 fore, quite unnecessary to enforce those 
 minute enquiries respecting natural 
 _ abilities, education, acquirements, and 
 experience, which every one of com- 
 mon peice will, of course, make re- 
 garding the person to whom they are 
 about to commit their dearest interests. 
 The point to which we request atten- 
 
 tion, is—not the acquisition of cooks, 
 
oa 
 
 203 
 
 but the conservation of their degusta- 
 tive faculties in that healthful state 
 without which no dinner can be 
 dressed with precision; and this, we 
 shall endeavour to shew, depends 
 mainly on their being frequently, at- 
 tentively, and copiously physicked. 
 Some unreflecting persons may perhaps 
 be-at a loss to conjecture how the deli- 
 cacy of a table can depend upon the 
 plethora of the cook : nothing, however, 
 is more simple. The fore-finger of an — 
 experienced cook travels incessantly | 
 from the stewpan to the mouth ; forit is ~ 
 only by tasting the ingredients in it every 
 moment, that the critical point of their 
 perfection is to be ascertained. T he 
 organs of sense should, therefore, be 
 preserved in a state of the extremest 
 K 6 
 
204 
 
 delicacy, as on that depends the flavour — 
 of your sauces, the seasoning of your ra- 
 golits, the coction of your meat, and, 
 in short, all your terrestrial happiness. 
 But the heat and smoke of the fires, 
 the confined air of kitchens, and per- 
 haps, also, a little occasional imtem- 
 perance, which these inconveniencies 
 render excusable, gradually induce a 
 _ slight attack of slow fever, which usu- 
 ally manifests itself in that most alarm- 
 ing symptom, an insensibility in the 
 organs of the palate. The ordinary 
 stimulants no longer produce the same 
 effect, and the consequenee is, that 
 your “dishes are unnaturally seasoned, 
 The moment, therefore, that you de- 
 tecta shake too much of the pepper- 
 
 box, be assured that the temperament 
 
205 — 
 
 of your cook is deranged, and that 
 no time is to be lost if you wish to 
 restore the palate to. the proper degree 
 of susceptibility. The cook may pro- 
 bably be unconscious of disease, and 
 reluctant to submit to the necessary 
 ‘regimen: but listen to no remonstrance 
 overpower all opposition—trust to 
 no apothecary, lest there should be 
 collusion—and proceed as_ follows ; 
 taking especial care to witness the. 
 whole operation yourself. 
 
 Remove the patient from the pre-. 
 cincts of the kitchen, and out of the 
 way of all temptation to indulge in 
 animal food: administer a _ gentle 
 emetic, and chamomile tea ad hb.: 
 confine to a strict diet and cooling 
 
 drinks for the two following days, then 
 
ti 
 
 206 
 
 throw in a brisk cathartic, and allow 
 nothing but weak chicken broth for the 
 next twenty-four hours. The following 
 day, you may try the effect of these 
 remedies on a couple of white fricas- 
 s€es, a brown soup, some vegetable 
 and fish curries, and a few other made 
 dishes; but you must not allow the 
 powers of your cook to be exhausted 
 on a regular dinner. The mode in 
 which these are dressed will ascertain 
 the state of convalescence: if the same 
 faults prevail, you must repeat the ope- 
 ration, and draw about twenty ounces 
 of blood from the left arm, which 
 will be generally found sufficient to 
 reduce the system to a proper equili- 
 brium. , 
 
 No cook who aspires to any thing 
 
207 
 
 beyond mediocrity will ever object to. 
 this mode of treatment; but, as some 
 may, no doubt, be found so insensible 
 to fame and so unreasonable as to start 
 objections, it ought ever be made a 
 positive condition of their engage- 
 ment, that they should implicitly sub- 
 mit to be physicked and bled at the 
 
 option of their masters: and to those 
 
 who value themselves on -the superi- 
 
 ority of their tables, we cannot too 
 
 _ often repeat—physick your cooks. 
 
 Although we do not profess a very 
 ardent admiration for that portion of 
 the fair sex who are devoted to the 
 cares of the kitchen—their s¢gavorr- 
 faire, in that art at least—never, in our 
 estimation, equalling that of their 
 
 rival male professors—yet, as it is 
 
208 
 
 sometimes our fate to dine at houses: 
 where they only are employed, we 
 cannot help feeling a degree of interest 
 
 in their welfare; and we submit, that 
 
 we cannot more properly elose a moral. 
 
 work like this, than with the insertion 
 of some maxims for their conduct, 
 which have been communicated to 
 
 us by that truly respectable association, 
 
 ‘¢ THE SOCIETY FOR THE SUPPRESSION | 
 
 “ oF VICE;”’ and it will, we doubt not, 
 be generally acknowledged, that in 
 now becoming a ‘‘ SOCIETY FOR THE 
 ‘¢ SUPPRESSION OF BAD COOKS,” it 
 has at length, turned its attention to 
 a truly valuable object. We trust, 
 therefore, that precepts of such refined 
 morality will not be lost on the fair 
 
 a 
 
209 
 
 Cinderellas for whose use they were | 
 compiled with so much care; or, to 
 use their own unaffected language— 
 “ that all the fat will not be in the fire.”” 
 
 Some doubts having arisen respect- 
 ing the construction of the second 
 clause of the twelfth rule, it was sub- 
 mitted to Serjeant Vampire—the Attor-_ 
 -ney-General of the Society —who gave ; 
 it as his opinion, that it was not only 
 strictly legal, but according to the im- 
 memorial usage of the courts; and he 
 advised—from his own experience—a 
 close adherence te that rule, aided by 
 a large stock of effrontery, a cool head 
 and a malignant hearts with a proper 
 dose of cant and hypocrisy, as the 
 surest mode of exchanging a stuff for 
 
 a silk gown, 
 
210 
 
 The learned Serjeant closed his 
 opinion with the following quotation 
 from the dictum of an eminent judge, 
 whose name has indeed escaped us, but 
 which requires no other recommenda- 
 tion than the soundness of the doctrine 
 
 which it conveys :— ,' 
 
 * Nature has made man’s breast no windores, 
 “ To publish what he does within doors ; 
 
 «© Nor what dark seerets there inhabit, 
 
 « Unless his own rash folly blab it. 
 
 ‘‘ Then why should’nt conscience have vacation, 
 «¢ As well as other courts o’ th’ nation ; 
 
 ** Have equal power to adjourn, 
 
 « Appoint appearance and return ; 
 
 «« And make as nice distinction serve 
 
 “« To split a case, as those that carve P— 
 
 “¢ Or have no power at all, nor shift 
 
 « To help itself at a dead lift?” 
 
TWELVE GOLDEN RULES 
 
 FOR WOMEN-COOKS, 
 
 To be hung up over every Kitchen Chimney in the 
 
 Kingdom. ng 
 bg 
 NEVER GET DRUNK—until the last dish be served 
 up. 
 L9§ 
 
 NEVER BE sAUcy—unless you happen to be in 
 your airs and can’t help it: but. then, 
 take care to have the last word. 
 
 il. 
 
 NEVER BE suLKY—unless you have a great din- 
 ner to dress: your mistress will then be 
 sure to coax you, 
 
212 . 
 Be 
 NEVER SPOIL A JoINT—unless you have been un- 
 justly found fault with—(which must 
 be the fact if you have been accused at 
 all) in which case, if complaint be 
 made of its having been under-done— 
 you may, next time, roast it to a cin- 
 der; and if that should not give satis- 
 
 faction—you may, the following day— 
 send it up raw. 
 
 V. 
 
 NEVER GET DINNER READY AT THE TIME IT IS 
 “oRDERED—unless you know that the 
 family are not ready for it; in which 
 case, send it up to a moment: if it be 
 cold and spoiled, that, you know, will 
 not be your fault. . 
 
 VI. 
 
 NEVER ADMIT THAT YOU ARE IN THE WRONG— 
 unless the devil will so have it that you 
 can’t help it. If you should transgress 
 your orders, stand stoutly to it—that 
 they were such as you have followed ; 
 and if you havnt brass enough for 
 that—say, you /hought they were. 
 
VII. 
 
 NEVER TAKE SNUFF—unless when you are mix- 
 ing a stew, or stirring the soup. Nor 
 ever examine the latter without holding 
 a lighted tallow-candle obliquely over 
 
 the pot: if it should not enable you 
 to see quite to the bottom, what drops 
 from it will at least enrich the contents ; 
 and when you taste it—be sure to throw 
 back what remains in your spoon. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 NEVER WASH Your HaNDS—until after you have 
 made the pies: you must do it then, 
 and to do it sooner is only to waste time 
 
 and soap. . | 
 
 IX. 
 
 NEVER GIVE WARNING To QUIT YoUR PLACE— 
 - until you are quite sure that it will put 
 the family to the greatest inconvenience, 
 and then, be off at a moment; say, 
 *< your father’s dead, or your mother’s 
 “ dying, and you can’t stay if it was 
 “ever so.’ If warning be given to 
 you—from that moment you may spoil 
 every thing that comes. under your 
 hands. 
 
214 
 Xx. 
 
 NEVER TELL TALES OF THE FAMILY YOU ARE 
 witn—unless they should be to their 
 disadvantage: nor ever speak well of 
 your last mistress,‘ unless it be to con- 
 trast her with the present. 
 
 x1. 
 NEVER CHEAT—unless you can do it without 
 : being discovered: but if you don’t 
 yourself cheat, never prevent others 
 —: your, master .can afford, Gt7— 
 ** sarvice is no inheritance’’—and, 
 
 ‘“ poor sarvants and tradesfolk must 
 Comte 
 
 * 
 
 XU. 
 
 NEVER TELL A LIE—when you can get as much 
 by telling the truth: nor ever tell the 
 
 truth, when you can get more by telling 
 ; a lie. | 
 
 XIII. 
 
 NEVER SUPPORT A SWEETHEART OUT OF THE 
 HOUSE—unless you can’t get one in, 
 
215 
 
 NB. Lest any fastidious critic, un- 
 learned in the mysteries of the kitchen, 
 should betray his ignorance by com- 
 menting on the number of our Russ, 
 let it be understood, that, as at New- 
 market pounds once meant guineas, so 
 Cooks ever count by the Bakgr’s 
 DOZEN. 
 
 But the golden days of the guinea 
 
 are gone by, and the reduction of our 
 
 - coin has imposed a tax of five per cent. 
 
 on the practice of some useful profes- 
 sions, the sole emoluments of which 
 depend on fees. Lawyers, indeed, still 
 receive ii guineas, though they pay in 
 pounds; but theirs, we submit, does 
 not come within the description of 
 profession to which we have alluded— 
 
 it has, however, been hinted to us, that 
 
 i 
 
 = ee <i 
 
 ~~ 
 
216 
 
 the measure is a part of the great mi- 
 nisterial plan of economy; and we 
 have been assured, from very good au- 
 thority, that it has already operated a 
 material saving in the expense of the 
 
 secret service. 
 
Conclusiow, 
 —»— 
 
 We had fully intended to have 
 closed our lucubrations with the fore- 
 going rules of conduct—some of which 
 we think might be usefully applied by 
 persons of every class—but happening 
 to dine a few days ago at the villa of 
 our friend, Alderman Alltwist, where 
 some subjects of discussion were started 
 which deserve particular notice, we 
 deem it due to our readers to commu- 
 nicatethem. The party was small, and 
 
 after some casual remarks on the ac- 
 -knowledged value of the national debt, 
 which was clearly proved to be a mine 
 of wealth—to those who hold any share 
 of it—with a few slight observations on 
 the pretended agricultural and manu- 
 
 L 
 
 ae ek 
 
 ee, 
 
 } Z 
 
: 218 
 
 facturing distresses, and other matters 
 of equally trivial interest, the conver- 
 sation turned chiefly on scientifie sub- 
 jects of grave importance; out of which 
 we shall endeavour to cull a few hints 
 on which our friends may improve. 
 
 The first object that called our at- 
 tention, was a pocket model of a most 
 ingenious machine for opening oysters ; 
 which performed the operation within 
 less than half a second, and so dexter- 
 ously, that if swallowed immediately, 
 the animal is sure to arrive in your sto- 
 mach in perfect life and vigour. We 
 tried the experiment ourself—the fol- 
 lowing morning at luncheon—on be- 
 tween five and six dozen—and were not 
 disappointed in a single instance, It 
 
 was preduced by a colonel of engineers, 
 
219- 
 
 who assured us, that he had devoted 
 the greater part of the leisure which an 
 
 important staff-appointment had for 
 
 seme years afforded him, to the bring- 
 
 ing it to perfection. The idea, he ac-- 
 
 knowledged, was obtained from the 
 manner in which the Dutchmen opened 
 their sluice-gates upon our troops in 
 Holland during the memorable expe- 
 dition to Flushing ; and he deduced 
 from this circumstance alone, a very 
 
 strong proof of the utility of that most 
 clear-sighted and well-arranged plex, 
 
 and of. the great benefit which the 
 
 nation is, at leneth, likely to derive 
 
 from it. 
 The next in order, was the prospec- 
 tus of an F.R.S., of a mode of apply- 
 L 2 
 
 spender ener 
 
220 
 
 ing galvanic tractors to the jaws, at the 
 moment of eating, so as to materially 
 accelerate the muscular motion and in-— 
 crease the powers of mastication; a 
 subject, unquestionably, of the greatest 
 moment ; though, indeed, a celebrated 
 writer on political economy, who sat 
 next us, seemed to view it with some 
 alarm—but we could make nothing of 
 his arguments. | 
 
 A medical gentleman gave a very 
 interesting detail of the newly disco- 
 ~cred method of killing turkeys by 
 means of electricity, by which they are 
 at once rendered tender without recur- 
 ring to the former tedious process of 
 tying them up by the tail until they 
 dropped from the feathers ; but an old 
 
 ' 
 
221 
 
 crown-lawyer combated the plan with 
 ; great earnestness, and gave his decided 
 | opinion in favor of the system of 
 hanging. 
 
 The Dean of Grubbleton informed 
 us, that since he had abandoned preach- 7 
 ing, except occasionally, he had turned. 
 his attention chiefly to chemistry ; and 
 as the curate of the parish then com- 
 posed his sermons, he had employed 
 himself in writing a treatise on a 
 method of applying a new kind of gas 
 to the distension of the stomach, by 
 which its capacity would gradually be 
 come enlarged. He had made, he said, 
 some trials on himself; and he assured 
 us, that although his own stomach was 
 but weak, and could seldom be prevailed 
 
 L 3 
 
222° 
 
 upon to receive more than three pounds: 
 of solid food at a meal, he had, by per- 
 severance in the use of the gas, brought 
 -itup te three pounds and three. quarters, 
 and he entertained hopes of. increasing 
 the quantity before the end of the win- 
 ter: but he declined making any ex- 
 periments, in- public, lest. his theory: 
 should take wind. | 
 
 A Mr. Eitherside—one of the city 
 members—took occasion, upon the ap- 
 pearance of the devils, to introduce a 
 sauce unrverselle, suited to every palate, 
 and which he had used, he told-us, with 
 peculiar effect in the dressing of a calfs” 
 head; but. it was not generally ap- 
 proved, and to us it seemed somewhat 
 
 stale.and vapid.. 
 
293 
 
 The deep interest of these subjects 
 ‘occupied the time, as may well be sup- 
 posed, until far into the evening; indeed 
 there was little disposition to separate ; 
 the turtle had been excellent, the game 
 was kept to an hour and done to a turn, 
 
 and every bottle was out of the right 
 | bin: but at length the dean—who. had 
 fer some time been looking very pro- 
 found — ordered his carriage, and after 
 only waiting to discuss the merits of 
 one other batch of cdte-rétie, the party 
 broke up, and the guests — except 
 eursell, who was for a few days ona 
 visit at the villa—returned to town. 
 On retiring to the withdrawing- 
 room, our worthy friend, the alderman, 
 
 had thrown himself on a sofa, and 
 
224 | 
 
 while illustrating the system of the 
 dean by some arguments of his own, 
 had insensibly dropped into a slumber. 
 We judged, from the gentle undulation 
 _ of his throat—just about that part where 
 the last morsel of the dinner was de- 
 posited—that his repose would be of 
 some duration; and not wishing to 
 disturb him, we determined—so soon as 
 we had sipped our coffee and tasted a 
 few glasses of liqueur—on recording 
 not only a detailed account of the con- 
 versation which we have just sketched, | 
 but our opinion on the most important 
 parts of it. We, accordingly, drew a 
 writing table towards the fire, and sat 
 down with that firm purpose ; but just 
 when we had proceeded thus far, on 
 
225 
 endeavouring to mend an execrable 
 pen—the only one there—it somehow, — 
 imperceptibly as it were, became trans- 
 formed into a toothpick! We imme- 
 diately employed it for the only remain- 
 ing use for which it was fit, and conti- 
 nued ruminating on those parts of the 
 dinner which it occasionally brought to 
 our recollection, until the supper-tray 
 made its appearance. Our friend then 
 awaking, quite refreshed, we picked a 
 morsel, téte-a-téte, and having each 
 swallowed the opiate recommended in 
 Essay XV, we retired early. There re- 
 mained therefore no time to pursue our 
 intention that night ; and in the morn- 
 ing, a confused sensation in the head— 
 
 occasioned by the heaviness of this vile 
 
226 
 
 atmosphere—had quite dissipated the’ 
 ‘ideas we had arranged. We can there- 
 fore only regret the circumstance, and. 
 at the same time sincerely wish, that you: 
 may be all able to employ your pens to- 
 an equally profitable purpose— 
 Farewell ! 
 
 ELNIS.. 
 
 ————___ et 
 Printed by J. Mallett, 59, Wardour Street, Scho. , 
 
) 
 
 sent A 
 
 oS" fe 
 
 y fey r. 
 
 oe: 
 \ 
 
 ; 
 bn! Saetirtetale 
 | 34 Marine Drive, Rottingdean 
 | Sussex BN2 7HQ England