The rhombo claimed the attention of the discriminating ichthyophagists of Rome by the delicacy of its flesh, and few fish would have been preferred to it had it not been feared that it rendered digestion difficult.[XXI_181] Some intrepid stomachs, however, greeted this dish without much repugnance when presented to them fried and sprinkled with pepper, in the midst of a seasoning in which pepper, cummin, coriander, benzoin, wild marjoram, and rue, heightened by a little vinegar, were mixed with dates, honey, cooked wine, and oil. This boiling sauce was poured over the rhombo, but not before it had been enriched with garum,[XXI_182] which we had almost forgotten—that inevitable brine which the ancient magiric genius placed everywhere, and whose prodigious renown ought to have preserved it from oblivion.
This fish, singular instrument of a punishment invented by Rome,[XXI_183] entered into the bill of fare of a fashionable supper, but one without that magnificence which a feast of parade exacts. It was prepared with pepper, alisander, cummin, onion, mint, rue, sage, and dates, mixed with honey, vinegar, mustard, and oil.[XXI_184]
The Greeks also esteemed mugils, and gave a preference to those sold by the fishermen of Scyathus.[XXI_185]
Commentators do not agree on the origin of this word. Scaliger, who perceived Greek in everything, says it is derived from makarios, “happy.” But, then, in what does the felicity of this fish consist? The old writer Belon, more wise in his conjecture, thinks this word comes from the Latin, macularelli, “little spots,” because it is marked on the back with black stripes.[XXI_186]
Let the etymology be what it may, the epicurean cares very little about it. Mackerel was much liked in Greece, where it was believed to be a native of the Hellespont;[XXI_187] and throughout Italy, where it was supposed to come originally from Spain.[XXI_188]
It is very probable that from mackerel was obtained one of the varieties of garum, known by the name of garum sociorum. Further on, we intend to devote a special chapter to the subject of this celebrated condiment.
“Neither the size nor the weapons of mackerel make them formidable; they have, however, a violent appetite, and on account, perhaps, of the confidence they feel in the number of each shoal, they are bold and voracious, frequently attack fishes larger and stronger than themselves, and even dart with blind audacity upon the fishermen who bathe where they happen to be. Thus Pontoppidan relates that a sailor, bathing in the port of Carcule, in Norway, missing one of his companions, saw him a few minutes afterwards dead, the body mangled and covered with a multitude of mackerel, tearing his remains to pieces.”—Dr. Cloquet.
The haddock, like the sturgeon, was surrounded with the ridiculous honours of an almost divine pomp.[XXI_189] It was served interwoven with garlands, and trumpeters accompanied the slaves who, with uncovered heads and foreheads crowned with flowers, brought to the guests this dish, the merit of which was, perhaps, exaggerated by capricious fancies.[XXI_190]
Ausonius, who lived in the 4th century of the Christian era, is the first who has spoken of the tench, in his poem of the “Mostella.”[XXI_191] It was abandoned to the common people, who alone feasted on it.[XXI_192] This fish, long the victim of an unjust disdain, ultimately conquered from the great that esteem which they at first refused to it.
The dragon weaver traversed unseen the long and brilliant gastronomic period of the Romans. Greece rendered it more justice;[XXI_193] but its too modest qualities were not able to preserve it from forgetfulness and indifference.
At Rome the loligo, a species of cuttle-fish, was sometimes served with pepper and rue, mixed with garum, honey, sweet wine boiled, and a few drops of oil.[XXI_194]
This fish, which the Greeks caught on the coast,[XXI_195] was much sought after on account of the delicacy of its nourishing and light flesh.[XXI_196] The flounder, the brill, the diamond and Dutch plaice, which, together with the sole, were known under the general name of passeres, enjoyed an equal esteem, and had attributed to them the same qualities.
In Holland there are angel fish of enormous size;[XXI_197] and Aldrovandus relates that some have been seen which weighed as much as 160 lbs.[XXI_198] In the time of this naturalist the common people did not eat them very willingly.
The flesh of this species of the bulistes is only good when fried, according to Marcgrave. Columella thinks much of it,[XXI_199] and Pliny ranks it among the saxatiles, the most esteemed by connoisseurs.[XXI_200]
Among the Greeks this fish was considered only as fit for the people. Those from the environs of Phaleres were much esteemed, when left only an instant in boiling oil.[XXI_201] The Romans, who gave them the first rank among salt fish,[XXI_202] stuffed them, in order to render them better, in the following manner:—[XXI_203]
They bruised pennyroyal, cummin, pepper, mint, and pine nuts; these they mixed with honey, and with this paste they filled the anchovy, after having carefully boned them. They then wrapped them in paper,[M] and cooked them in a bain-marie, or saucepan, immersed in boiling water. They were served with oil, dregs of fish-brine, and cooked wine.[XXI_204]
The Greeks liked loaches,[XXI_205] but many abstained from eating them, lest the Syrian goddess, the protectress of these fishes, should gnaw their legs, cover their bodies with ulcers, and devour their liver.[XXI_206]
The inhabitants of Italy, free from this singular superstition, cleaned the loaches, left them some time in oil, then placed them in a saucepan with some more oil, garum, wine, and several bunches of rue and wild marjoram. Then these bunches were thrown away, and the fish was sprinkled with pepper at the moment of serving.[XXI_207]
The gudgeon—thought excellent by every one, but which no one mentions—appeared with honour in the most magnificent repasts at Athens.[XXI_208] At Rome, it was served fried, at the beginning of supper;[XXI_209] and it disposed the guests to attack boldly the culinary corps de réserve, which took up the position as soon as the skirmish with the gudgeon was over.
“This fish is in abundance, principally in France and Germany; it is very good, and easily digested. They are served either fried or stewed; when done as last-mentioned, they must be drawn and wiped dry, put in a flat stewpan with butter, salt, pepper, good red wine, spring onions, mushrooms, shalots, thyme, bay leaves and basil—these last plants chopped very fine; stew the whole a quarter of an hour, and serve.”—Bosc.
Herrings were unknown in Greece and Rome. Bosc says it is a manna that nature doubtless reserved for the northern nations, which they, however, have only turned to account in modern times.
The first herring fishery known in Europe was on the coast of Scotland; but that nation knew not how to profit by the treasure that the sea offered them. All the Scotch historians mention this fishery, the produce of which was bought by the Dutch. This transaction took place under the reign of King Alfred, about the year 836.
After some time the Scotch quarrelled with the Dutch, who undertook the herring fishery themselves. As they caught a great many more than they could consume, they salted them, and sold them in foreign countries. Such was the origin of that immense commerce, which had its rise, according to Eidous, about the year 1320, a short time after the Teutons had established themselves in the Baltic.
It is said that we owe the art of salting and barreling herrings to a Dutch fisherman, named William Beuckels, who died in 1449. The Dutch nation raised a mausoleum to his memory; and it is asserted that Charles V., who visited it in 1536, eat a herring upon it to render homage to the author of a precious discovery.
In the year 1610, Sir Walter Raleigh gave a statistical account of the commerce carried on by the Dutch in Russia, Germany, Flanders, and France, with the herrings caught on the coasts of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The sale of this fish amounted, in one year, to the sum of £2,650,000.
It has been erroneously thought that the herring was the halec, or, alec, of the Romans. This name was given by them to a kind of brine;[XXI_210] it was not the name of any particular fish.
There are two prevalent methods of preserving herrings, and fishmongers sell them under the denominations of salted herrings and red herrings.
The process employed for the first-named is as follows:—
As soon as the herring is out of the sea, a sailor opens it, removes the gills and the entrails, washes the fish in salt water, and puts it into a brine thick enough for it to float. After fifteen or eighteen hours, it is taken out of the brine and laid in a tub with a quantity of salt. It remains in this tub until the port is reached. There the herrings are placed in barrels, where they are artistically arranged one over another, with fresh salt between each layer. Care is always taken to employ fresh brine.
Red herrings are prepared by leaving the fish at least twenty-four hours in the brine; and when they are taken out, little twigs are run through the gills, and then they are suspended in a kind of chimney, made on purpose, under which a small fire is made with wood, which produces a good deal of smoke. The herrings remain in this state until they are sufficiently dry, that is to say, about twenty-four hours.
In Sweden and Norway they are somewhat differently prepared. The Icelanders and Greenlanders simply dry them in the air.[XXI_211]
Sonnini thinks that garum was simply composed of anchovies cooked and crushed in their brine, to which was added a little vinegar, and chopped or pounded parsley.
The fishermen of the Mediterranean and the coasts of the ocean salt almost all the anchovies they take. They cut off their heads, which are thought to be bitter, take out the entrails, wash them in soft or salt water, and stratify them in barrels with salt. The fishermen of Provence think it is essential to the good preservation of anchovies that the salt be red; and, consequently, they colour it with ochreous earths. Moreover, these fishermen do not change the brine which is formed in the barrels: they simply fill them up when any is lost by evaporation or leakage.
The fishermen of the north only use bay salt, and they change the brine three times, whence it results that their anchovies keep much longer; but the greater acridness of those which have remained in the same brine is esteemed a good quality by most consumers, and therefore they are more sought after.
In sea ports, anchovies are eaten either fried or roasted. Salted anchovies are to be preferred when they are new, firm, white outside, vermilion coloured inside, and free from all putrid smell. After having taken out the backbone, and washed them well, cooks commonly make use of anchovies in salads, and to flavour sauces made with butter, cullis, &c. In this case they are employed raw.
They are not unfrequently fried, after having been deprived of the salt, and surrounded with an appropriate paste. Some persons toast slices of bread, cover them with strips of anchovies, and serve them with a sauce composed of oil, vinegar, whole pepper, parsley, scallions, and eschalots, all in abundant quantities, and chopped very small.[XXI_212]
The Emperor Caligula had made immense preparations to invade Great Britain. He set off, and when he arrived in sight of that Albion he was going to attack, he commanded his troops to form in close array along the shore, the trumpets to sound the charge, and sat himself on the quarter-deck of his galley, from whence he might have directed the action. For a short time he contemplated his warlike cohorts, and having thus gratified his pride, he ordered his troops to pick up the shells which abounded on the strand, and returned to Rome, where he showed the “spolia opima” the ocean had delivered up to him. Caligula expected to receive the honours of a triumph; but the senate, having some sense of modesty left, would not award them, and the implacable Cæsar, from that moment, swore the ruin of the senators.[XXI_213]
The inhabitants of Greece and those of Italy thought a great deal of shell fish, which was always served at the beginning of the repast, just as they came from the sea: others cooked under the ashes, or fried. In most cases they were seasoned with cummin and pepper.[XXI_214]
The purveyors of fish in Rome gave the preference to those taken in the lake of Lucrinus.[XXI_215] The Greeks esteemed those from the promontory of Polarea.[XXI_216]
The city of Baiæ, in Campania, celebrated for its charming position, and the unreserved lax manners of its inhabitants, was not less renowned for its culinary labours, and the nicety which presided over their joyful banquets. Apicius has left us the recipe of a most exquisite stew, emphractum, which the epicureans of Rome often went to degust among their rivals, the Campanian gastronomists.
Cut up oysters, muscles, and sea-hedgehogs; let the pieces be rather small; put them into a stewpan with pine almonds, fried and chopped, some parsley, rue, pepper, coriander, and cummin; add, with proper care and discretion, some cooked wine, garum, and oil; cover, and boil the whole for a long time on a slow fire.[XXI_217]
We will point out the shell fish most in vogue in Italy, and for which the seasoning was generally composed of a mixture of pepper, parsley, dried mint, alisander, a great quantity of cummin, and a little of the decoction of spikenard.[XXI_218]
The pontiffs of pagan Rome, men of exquisite delicacy and matured taste, caused oysters to be served at every repast.[XXI_219] This little piece of epicurism was very expensive, and it was necessary for these grave personages to carry the whole of the devotion which characterized them in their love of good cheer to the highest degree, to dare eat of a dish still uncommon a century before the Christian era. At this epoch a borriche (a sort of basket) of oysters was worth one hundred sesterces (£9).[XXI_220] It is unnecessary to remark that the poor never tasted them.
The Greeks and Romans, like ourselves, were remarkably fond of this delicious shell fish, and eat them (French fashion) at the beginning of a banquet.[XXI_221] For this reason Athenian epicures called oysters “the gastronomic prelude to the supper.”[XXI_222] They were often served raw,[XXI_223] and were then dexterously opened by a slave on the table,[XXI_224] in presence of the guests, whose experienced eyes greedily sought the light purple net which, according to them, surrounds the fattest and best.[XXI_225]
The inhabitants of Italy preferred large oysters,[XXI_226] and exacted that this dainty manna of the sea[XXI_227] should be always fresh and abundant at their feasts.[XXI_228] This displayed wisdom on their part: this delightful fish excites the appetite and facilitates digestion.[XXI_229] To add to its delicate flavour, the “Roman club of epicureans,” a useful association, which modern Europe envies antiquity, caused to be sent from Spain, at a vast expense, that precious garum,[XXI_230] the recipe of which seems to have been lost, and the condiment itself forgotten by the whole of the Peninsula.
The magiric genius of Rome did not hesitate to demonstrate that oysters do not form an exception to the law of perfectibility which governs all beings, and that it is possible to render their flesh more succulent and delicate by transporting them from their damp cradle into reservoirs exposed to the mild influence of the sun.[XXI_231] Sergius Orata or, perhaps, Fulvius Hirpinus, was the first who received this happy inspiration. He caused to be constructed, near Pouzzole, a short time before the civil war of Pompey, a fishpond, where be stowed oysters, which he fattened with paste and cooked wine worked into the consistence of honey[XXI_232]—sapa et farre. This worthy Roman enriched himself by the sale of them,[XXI_233] and bequeathed a name to posterity—a two-fold happiness for the gastronomist Fulvius, whose good fortune the poet Homer did not partake.
Apicius esteemed highly oysters from the lake of Lucrinus, from Brindes, and Abydos, and studied deeply the succulent qualities of this shell fish. He knew how to preserve them fat, fresh, and alive, during long and fatiguing journeys; and, thanks to a delicate attention on the part of this immortal bon vivant, the great Trajan was enabled to regale himself with oysters sent from Rome while carrying on a distant war against the Parthians.[XXI_234] This present of the king of epicureans to the master of the world was worthy of both the giver and receiver, but it completed the ruin of the generous Apicius.
The Roman ladies shared their husbands’ taste, and eagerly partook of oysters from the lake of Lucrinus, brought into fashion by Sergius Orata, and when their fatigued stomachs struggled painfully with gluttony, this delicacy soon obtained an easy triumph by disposing the appetite to fresh exertions. The means of defence, however, were not very formidable; sometimes a little warm and limpid water—oftener a dazzling plume from the bird of Juno—hastened the struggle, and, without effort, decided the victory.[XXI_235] This ingenious method was very much relished by polyphagists, and the Emperor Vitellius particularly honoured it.[XXI_236]
Cape Pelorus furnished the Greeks with highly prized oysters,[XXI_237] which were eaten alone, fried, stewed, or nicely dressed with marsh-mallows, dock-leaves, and with some kind of fish.[XXI_238]
The Romans at length became disgusted with those found on the coasts of Italy, or in the Dardanelles; an instinct of greediness caused them to prefer oysters from the Atlantic ocean, and especially from the shores of Armorica, now called Britany.[XXI_239] Bordeaux supplied imperial tables, and this high distinction is sufficient for its praise.[XXI_240]
It may not be useless to remark here, that no sooner had Ausonius praised this fish in his lines than it was forgotten, and did not re-appear till the 17th century on the tables of distinguished personages. May our descendants be more just than our forefathers.
At Rome oysters were served with a seasoning of pepper and alisander, mixed with the yolks of eggs, vinegar, garum, oil, wine, and a little honey.[XXI_241]
They were preserved in a vase smeared with pitch, washed with vinegar, and hermetically closed.[XXI_242]
“Oysters of a fine quality are generally of easy digestion, but not very nourishing, particularly when eaten raw. They are sought for to open the appetite, which is the case, owing to the nature of the water, agreeably salted, contained in them. Some mention is made of persons who can eat from fifteen to twenty dozen without being ill. It is not the same when cooked; then they become hard, more tough, and, consequently, indigestible. They are also eaten pickled with vinegar and sweet herbs. In this state they are sent to countries distant from the sea, piled up one upon the other, without the shell, in small barrels.”—De Blainville.
Under this denomination were classed all animals, more or less orbicular, whose envelope bristles with calcareous points, on which account they were compared to hedgehogs.
The Greeks thought them delicious when caught at the full moon,[XXI_243] and prepared with vinegar, sweet cooked wine, parsley, and mint.[XXI_244] Oxymel often replaced vinegar.[XXI_245]
The Romans also esteemed highly this dish, which was recommended to sluggish appetites under the auspices of the faculty;[XXI_246] and Apicius furnished the following recipe for the preparation of it:—
“Procure a new saucepan,” thus says the great master, “place in it a little oil, garum, sweet wine, and pepper. When the mixture begins to boil, stuff the sea hedgehogs, then submit them to the action of a slow fire; add a large quantity of pepper, and serve.”[XXI_247]
The two great nations of antiquity have granted uncommon praise to mussels, and partook of them at their most sumptuous feasts. At the wedding repast of the graceful Hebe, Jupiter wished the inhabitants of Olympus to exchange for this shell fish their celestial though monotonous ambrosia.[XXI_248] Epicharmus, who records the fact, does not inform us with what sauce the chef de cuisine of the gods dressed the flesh of those mussels. The reader must thus content himself with the seasoning invented by simple mortals, and which appeared good to them. It was composed of a suitable mixture of pepper, alisander, parsley, mint, with a quantity of cummin seed, a little honey, vinegar, and garum.[XXI_249] With this mixture they covered the boiled and widely opened mussels, and the guests found it impossible to satiate themselves with this dish, so much more digestible and nourishing than oysters.[XXI_250]
The effeminate inhabitants of Tarentum, the abode of luxury, delighted in good living, and boasted of possessing the finest scallops of Campania, and of the whole empire.[XXI_251] The infallible authority of this voluptuous city in matters of taste gave a surprising vogue to this fish. Rome, and all the population of Italy, believed it was forced to eat the scallops of Tarentum prepared with oysters, and at other times with mussels.
It now remains to be mentioned that some kinds of testacea appeared worthy of the reputation they acquired among the ancients.
The Greeks and Latins speak with admiration of the enormous size of certain tortoises in their time, the whole species of which were comprised under the generic word testudo.[XXI_252] The Indian Sea produced some so large, that the shell of one only amply served to roof a comfortable and elegant cottage.[XXI_253] The inhabitants of the shores of the Red Sea never troubled themselves with building sloops; large shells of tortoises spared them the trouble, by supplying them with charming little barks, which lightly floated on the water.[XXI_254] And, lastly, in the Ganges, tortoise shells were found, capable of containing no less than 20 amphoræ, or about 560 pints.[XXI_255]
The inhabitants of the Peloponnesus did the tortoise the signal honour of representing its image on their money.[XXI_256] The blood cured diseases of the eye,[XXI_257] and the flesh—in great request—was thought excellent eating. It was cut into pieces of a middling size, and placed in a saucepan with pepper, rue, and scallions, crushed in the same mortar; over this was poured honey, garum, raisin wine, common wine, and a small quantity of good oil. At the moment of ebullition, the whole was thickened with flour.[XXI_258]
Sometimes the tortoise was boiled, and covered with a seasoning, for which the following is the recipe:—
Mix pepper, alisander, parsley, mint, and wild marjoram, with the yolks of eggs, honey, garum, wine, cooked wine, and oil; add mustard and vinegar.[XXI_259]
Apicius sought relief from his culinary studies at Minturnus, in Campania, where that great master regaled himself with delicious sea-crawfish, in order to keep up his gustatory powers. Genius reposes amidst studious leisure. Being told that Africa produced some of these testacea of an immense size, immediately the worthy Roman tears himself away from the sweet solitude he had created; he freights a vessel, Æolus smiles on the undertaking, Neptune protects him, and he arrives in sight of the African shore. Scarcely was he disembarked when some fishermen brought him a few sea-crawfish; he examines, rejects them, and demands finer ones to be brought. He is informed that it will be impossible to procure any larger than those before him. At this Apicius smiles disdainfully, and commanding the presence of his pilot, orders him to steer back for Italy.[XXI_260] Decidedly magiric genius never revealed itself by a more sublime action.
However, Pliny somewhere mentions certain magnificent sea-crawfish, which he describes as being four cubits in length[XXI_261]—very large ones, certainly.
Roman tables often presented to the sight of guests boiled sea-crawfish, peppered and garnished with asparagus,[XXI_262] but they were generally covered with a gravy composed of honey, vinegar, wine, garum, oil, and cooked wine; to which were added scallions, chopped small, pepper, alisander, carrots, cummin, and dates. Mustard was then mixed with the whole.[XXI_263]
Antiquity rendered justice to the lobster, and the taste for it did not change, being founded on truly estimable and sterling qualities. It was opened lengthwise, and filled with a gravy, into the composition of which entered both pepper and coriander. It was then slowly cooked on the gridiron, and every now and then basted with the same kind of gravy, with which the flesh became impregnated.[XXI_264]
The Greeks were remarkably fond of this fish,[XXI_265] especially when obtained from Alexandria.[XXI_266] They were not less esteemed in Rome, where they eat them boiled with cummin, and seasoned with pepper, alisander, parsley, dried mint, and a great quantity of cummin; the whole carefully and well ground, and mixed with honey, vinegar, and garum, to which was sometimes added some liquid perfume.[XXI_267]
“Crayfishes can be preserved several days, not too warm, in baskets with some fresh grass, such as the nettle, or in a bucket with three-eighths of an inch of water. If there were enough water in it to cover them, they would die in a few moments, because their great consumption of air does not allow them to live in water unless it is continually renewed.”—Bosc.
Would you like to eat crab sausages? Boil some of these animals; reduce them to a pulp; mix with this some spikenard, garum, pepper, and eggs; give to this the ordinary shape of sausages, place them on the stove or gridiron, and you will, by these means, obtain a delicate and tempting dish.[XXI_268] Apicius assures us of the fact: Apicius was a connoisseur!
A crab may also be served whole, boiled, and accompanied by a seasoning of pepper, cummin, and rue, which the cook skilfully mixes with garum, honey, oil, and vinegar.[XXI_269]
Is it preferred stuffed? Then fill it with a skilful mixture of cummin, mint, rue, alisander, pine nuts, and pepper, the whole long soaked in garum, honey, vinegar, and wine.[XXI_270]
The ancients thought nothing of frogs, which they left at liberty to propagate. There was such a great number among the Abderites, that these good people gave up to them their native soil, and left the place in search of another spot.
At the present day, in some countries, frogs are sought for as a most agreeable and wholesome food; in other parts—England in particular—they are disdainfully shunned. But in France there is a great consumption of them, especially in the spring. About a century since, they were greatly in fashion at Paris; and it is stated that a countryman from the province of Auvergne, named Simon, made a considerable fortune by feeding and fattening them in one of the suburbs of that city, which were sent to him from Auvergne.
“In Germany, the various parts of the frog are eaten, the skin and intestine excepted; but in France they are satisfied with the hind legs, which, by the size of their muscles, are themselves equivalent to all the rest. They are dressed with wine as fish, with white or brown sauce; fried, or roasted; when tender, and properly done, it is a most delicate dish.”—Bosc.
Before the conclusion of this article, we may as well mention a frightful fish which modern good taste has banished from our tables, but which the ancients allowed to appear at theirs. It is the Polypus, highly esteemed both in Greece and Italy, when caught at a certain period, and its numerous immoderate legs stretched far over the edges of the dish prepared to receive it.[XXI_271]
This monster was cut in pieces, and eaten with a sauce composed of pepper, garum, and benzoin.[XXI_272]
It will be easily understood that ancient nations must have early accustomed themselves to fishing, the origin of which, doubtless, goes back to the first ages of civilization. The holy writings often mention fishermen,[XXI_273] fish-hooks, and nets. Homer speaks of them,[XXI_274] and the poet, Hesiod, who flourished thirty years before Homer,[XXI_275] places on the shield of Hercules an attentive fisherman, ready to throw his net over some fish pursued by a dolphin.[XXI_276]
The Egyptians also practised this occupation; of which the following anecdote is a proof:—
Antony being in Egypt, the beauteous Cleopatra sought to amuse him by inventing for his entertainment each day new kinds of pleasure; but the Roman general, seized with a violent love of fishing, fled from the society of his numerous courtiers, and, alone on the borders of the sea, or an isolated lake, vainly waiting for the smallest gudgeon, he forgot long hours of vain expectancy and useless patience. The queen undertook his cure. She commanded a diver to plunge into the water, and there a hook a fish to the line of Antony. He, seeing it agitated, joyfully withdrew it from the water, and unhooked a salted sardine. Cleopatra then exclaimed: “Leave to Egyptians the task of fishing; Romans should take only kings, cities, and emperors.”[XXI_277]
The inhabitants of Italy fished exactly in the same manner we do at this day;[XXI_278] but Roman luxury, always greedy of extravagant profusion, invented those celebrated fish ponds which cost immense sums, both to build and maintain;[XXI_279] and to which Lucullus, Hortensius, and Philippus, whom Cicero surnamed the “Tritons of fish pools,”[XXI_280] consecrated almost entirely their anxiety and fortunes.
This folly was carried to such a height that fish ponds were constructed on the roofs of houses.[XXI_281] More reasonable persons contented themselves with bringing river-water into their dining-rooms.[XXI_282] The fish swam under the table, and it was only necessary to stoop and pick them out the instant before eating them.[XXI_283]
These expensive habits could only suit the most opulent and least numerous class of Romans. The honest citizen modestly provided himself at the fish-market, and the part not eaten by him the first day was submitted to a very simple process, which assured its preservation. For this, it was only necessary to cover it with boiling vinegar as soon as it had been fried.[XXI_284]
Fish was also well preserved by surrounding it with snow, and placing it at the bottom of an ice-house.[XXI_285]
The author of a rare and very curious work,[XXII_1] which no one at present has time to read, formed the charitable project of reconciling medicine and gastronomy. This was a noble enterprize, worthy of a true philanthropist, and which assuredly presented less difficulties than people may think. In effect, what was the moot question? To agree, de forma, without interfering with the substance; to examine whether culinary preparations poison, as has been said, the food which nature gives us, and unceasingly paralyze the salutary action of the dietetic, which the faculty prescribe.
For many centuries cooking has been exposed to these odious reproaches, the gravity of which we do not pretend to attenuate; and yet, ever pursuing its brilliant career amidst revolutions and ruins, the magiric art, endowed with eternal youth, embellishes each new era of civilization, receives its most constant homage, and survives it when it fades away. Let us speak plainly: mankind has thrown on cooks all the faults of which they ought to accuse their own intemperance. It was no doubt easier, than to avoid the fatal abuse of pleasure, and the evils it brings with it; but there was the crying injustice, which we do not hesitate to denounce; there lay the obstacle it was necessary to overcome, in order to bring about a peaceful understanding between the disciples of Galen and the followers of Apicius.
Gourmandise would never have rebelled against the kitchen if all polyphagists had obtained from the good Ceres the gift she granted to Pandarea—a celebrated eater, who could pass days and nights at table, without experiencing the slightest indigestion.[XXII_2]
“But,” say you, “Seneca, the philosopher, perpetually combats, with the authority of his virtuous language, those dangerous men who are busied with a single stomach,[XXII_3] and who lay the foundation for a train of maladies.”
The reply to this is, that Seneca, the pedant, should have thundered against the stomach, which alone is guilty (he has sometimes done so); that this atrabilarious preceptor of Nero, attacked with an incurable consumption, could only eat very little, which much enraged him; and that his imprecations on the subject of the excessive riches and prodigious luxury of the Romans of his age, neither hindered him from possessing, and unceasingly increasing, a more than royal fortune; nor from feeding—well or ill—several thousand slaves; nor from pompously displaying in his palace five hundred tables—only five hundred—of the most elaborate workmanship, of the rarest wood, all alike, and ornamented with precious incrustations.[XXII_4]
How often have people extolled the Lacedæmonians and their legislator, Lycurgus. Well, Lycurgus mercilessly commanded poor little children to fast when they looked fresh and fat.[XXII_5] Strange law-giver of a strange people, who never learned to eat, and yet who invented the celebrated “black sauce,” the jus nigrum, for which the entrails of the hare served as the foundation. So true it is that cookery always preserves certain imprescriptible rights over the most fervent disciples of frugality.
Moralists do not cease to repeat that Rome would never have had sumptuary laws had it not been corrupted by cooks from Athens and Syracuse. This is an error. All the ordinances of the consuls proscribed profusion, excess—in a word, all the ruinous expenses of a passionate and ridiculous gastrophagy,[XXII_6] at the same time, respecting the magiric art itself; that is to say, that industrious chemistry which composes, decomposes, combines, and mixes—in a word, prepares different substances which gluttony, delicacy, the fashion, or luxury may confide to it for the space of a few minutes.
Why render the cook responsible for the extravagant tastes and follies of his age? Is it for him to reform mankind? Has he either the means or the right?
What is asked of him? and what can be asked? To understand exactly the properties of everything he employs, to perfect, and correct, if necessary, the savours on which he operates; to judge with a true taste, to degustate with a delicate palate, to join the skilful address of the hand, and the prompt and comprehensive glance, to the bold but profound conceptions of the brain; and above all—it cannot be too often repeated—to identify himself so well with the habits, the wants, even the caprices and gastronomic eccentricities, of those whose existence he embellishes, that he may be able, not to obey them, but to guess them, and even have a presentiment of them.[XXII_7]
Such is, to use an original expression of Rabelais, “toute l’artillerie de gueule,” which the cook can master. It is the sum total of what has been bequeathed to us by some great men, whose scattered instructions, lying here and there in books of morality and philosophy—there are numerous analogies between the act of eating and the art of living well—have been collected with scrupulous care, classed with all the attention we can command, and will serve, we hope, to beguile the studious leisure of the lovers of antiquity and the culinary science.
Mankind had long obeyed that imperious and periodical necessity which has been called hunger, when it announces its presence with its brutal exigencies, before any one thought to form a code of doctrine calculated to guide a sensation which, by its energy and duration, procures us the most thrilling and lasting pleasures.
The primitive nations no doubt gave themselves up to their native gluttony. They eat much, but they fed badly. They did not yet possess gastronomy; and, consequently, they had no cooks, in the serious and complete acceptation of the word.
The heroes of Homer prepared their repasts with their own hands,—and what repasts, gods of taste!—and prided themselves on their culinary talents. Où la vanité va-t-elle se nicher? Ulysses surpassed all others in the art of lighting the fire, and laying the cloth.[XXII_8] Patroclus drew the wine, and Achilles very carefully turned the spit.[XXII_9]
The conquerors of Troy shone more in the combat than under the tent which served them as kitchen.
At length the aurora of the magiric ages began to dawn: it is not a revolution, it is a creation which is preparing to appear. Man has only known hunger; he shall now become acquainted with the charms of an appetite. The King of Sidon learns how to eat, and it is Cadmus, the grandfather of Bacchus, the future founder of Thebes, who takes upon himself to instruct this august mouth.[XXII_10]
And since that time how many illustrious followers have descended into the arena, how many glorious names will not culinary annals have to register!
Somebody will, perhaps, one day publish a chronological history of celebrated cooks. In the meantime, it may not be amiss to recall to memory a few illustrious men, whose services and genius an ungrateful posterity has too soon forgotten.
Thimbron, among the Greeks, took the culinary art from its cradle: he watched devoutedly over its development, and only descended into the tomb after having won the heart of the whole of Greece,[XXII_11] for his favourite science. Timachidas of Rhodes, cook and poet of the highest renown, composed an epopee on the art which he professed, in the midst of emanations from the stoves and the spit.[XXII_12] His verses, glowing with the sacred fire which inspired him, lighted up the magiric vein of several of his disciples, among whom Numenius, Hegemon, and Metreas, are still cited.[XXII_13]
Artemidorus collected and commented on all the words in use in the kitchens of his time.[XXII_14] Greece owed to this patient terminologist the possession of a culinary language, subject to certain unchangeable rules.
Mithœcus gave the “Sicilian Cook”—a remarkable type of a multitude of tiresome and insipid imitations.[XXII_15]
At length Archestratus appeared. He was of Syracuse, and passed all his life in profoundly meditating on the functions, strength, anomalies, and resources of the stomach. He discovered the laws which govern that organ, and presented to the world his magnificent treatise on gastronomy[XXII_16]—an inestimable master-piece of laborious investigation of which time has deprived us, together with the works of his useful predecessors.
We must not omit the names of some celebrated theoricians, to whom the art owes its rapid progress:—Philoxenus of Leucadus, devoted himself to the difficult study of degustation, and practised several experiments, which were, however, ill-appreciated by his contemporaries. Thus, in the public baths, he accustomed his mouth and hands to the contact of boiling-water, in order to be able to seize and devour burning viands, the instant they were placed on the table. He recommended cooks to serve everything very hot, so that he alone exercised mastication and deglutition, while other guests less inured, were obliged to content themselves with looking at him.[XXII_17]
Pithyllus invented a sheath that covered the tongue, and protected it, without paralyzing its action, against a caloric dangerous to its delicate tissue.[XXII_18] This ingenious cuirass was not appreciated, and history, in its thoughtlessness, has not even transmitted to us a description of it.
It was then the good time of Athens: gluttons had made way for epicureans; hunger, to a less fierce and gross sensation, already subjected to examination and discussion. The magiric art possessed its rules, its various partisans, its professors, and disciples. Great masters studied deeply the appetite—indispensable basis, on which will always rest the culinary exegesis; and they finished by classing it definitively, according to the three degrees of intensity which observation discovers in it.
The bold appetite, said they, is that which is felt when fasting. It reflects but very little; is not squeamish about viands, and loses all reserve at the sight of a very indifferent ragoût.
The indolent appetite requires to be encouraged. It must be enticed, pressed, irritated. At first, nothing moves it—but after having tasted a succulent dish, it rouses, is astonished, its ardour becomes animated, and is capable of performing prodigies. It is this appetite which has consecrated the trivial but true proverb: “L’appétit vient en mangeant.”
The eclectic appetite owes nothing to nature; it is the child of art. Happy, thrice happy, the skilful cook to whom it says: “Thou art my father!” But how difficult is this creation—how rare! It is the work of genius—but listen. Some guests, chosen amidst veteran epicureans, seat themselves round a table covered with culinary offerings worthy only of the God of Feasts, and a small number of the faithful. Their indolent appetite examines, compares, judges, and, at length, abandons itself to the incomparable dainties from which it unceasingly seems to draw new ardour. But alas! pleasure, like pain, has its limits here below. Strength grows less, and becomes extinguished; the eye loses its greedy covetousness;[XXII_19] the palate languishes; the tongue becomes paralysed; the stomach sinks, and that which before pleased, now creates only fatigue and disgust. It is then that a cusinier hors ligne, tries a bold diversion, which must never be risked if the artist does not feel in himself that force of generous efforts which is no other than genius. By his orders, three or four dishes, prodigies of science and of luxury, appear on the altar, which the sacrificers no longer heed. At this sight, their looks brighten; desire revives; the smile reappears; the magiric facies shines forth with all its splendour; the chest dilates, and you no longer distinguish your former guests. A man has transformed them. Each one chooses, tries, tastes—is silent, and lost in wonder. The appetite is perhaps tired, but not satiated; and the skilful cook at length enjoys a deserved triumph.
In this solemn moment he received, among the ancients, a crown of flowers[XXII_20]—sweet and noble recompense of his arduous toil. Nay, a more substantial proof of gratitude often greeted his new dishes. In Greece, the inventor alone had a right to prepare them during a whole year, and drew from it all the honour and profit. It was necessary, in order that these culinary preparations should fall into the public domain, that some one of his colleagues should succeed in surpassing him.[XXII_21]
At this epoch, the best cooks came from Sicily. Trimalcio was one of the most celebrated. Athenæus tells us that, when he could not procure rare and highly esteemed fish, he understood so well how to imitate their form and flavour with common fish, that the most cunning epicures were always entrapped. This reminds us of a certain cook of Louis XIV., who, on Good Friday, served the king with a dinner, apparently composed of poultry and butcher’s meat, which, in reality, offered nothing but vegetables, and prepared, too, au maigre.
The Romans, inheritors of the luxury of Asia and Greece, did not erect a temple to the greedy Addephagia, goddess of good cheer, who possessed altars in Sicily;[XXII_22] but they thought it impossible to repay too highly those who knew how to extend the limits of the pleasures of the table,[XXII_23] and a generous senator offered his chef at least four talents, or more than £800 a year.
This is yet but little compared with the magnificence of Antony. He gave a supper to Cleopatra; that princess praised the delicacy of the feast, and immediately her lover called for the cook, and presented him with a city, in recompense.
How times are changed! We, at the present day, treat all this as pompous and ridiculous prodigality. It is because our somewhat mean epoch judges the olden times by the narrow ideas of order, foresight, and economy. The ancients enriched their Archimagiri, wasted their revenue in feasts, and then killed themselves. We have adopted a very different style of living. But, at the same time, how far are our most sumptuous banquets behind the most modest collations of Greece and Rome! Lucullus caused to be served to Cicero and Pompey a little ambigu, which cost £1,000. There were only three of them to partake of it!
The Emperor Claudius had generally six hundred guests at his table.[XXII_24]
Vitellius did not spend less than £3,200 for each of his repasts;[XXII_25] and the composition of his favourite dishes required that vessels should unceasingly ply between the Gulf of Venice and the Straits of Cadiz.[XXII_26]
It must be confessed that cooks of that gastronomic era had to fulfil an incessant and most laborious task. What was then more natural than to abandon to them some thousands of those sesterces, which the profusion of the master devoured by millions, in the form of phenicopters’ tongues, scarus or parrot-fishes’ livers, and peacocks’ brains?
We see that the Cæsars encouraged this frightful gastronomic monomania. Tiberius gave more than £3,000 to the author of a dialogue, in which the interlocutors were mushrooms, fig-peckers, oysters, and thrushes.[XXII_27]
Galba breakfasted before day-break, and the breakfast would have enriched a hundred families.[XXII_28] Ælius Verus invented the pentapharmacum, a kind of Macédoine, composed of sows’ flanks, pheasants, peacocks, ham, and wild boars’ flesh.[XXII_29] Geta insisted upon having as many courses as there were letters in the alphabet, and each of these courses must contain all the viands whose name began by the same letter.[XXII_30]
These follies, which cooks were forced to obey, continued to astonish the world until the moment when Rome—with her gods, the monuments of her ancient glory, and of her recent turpitudes—crumbled beneath the invincible weight of that horde of barbarians, that mysterious and implacable scourge, which Divine vengeance reserved for the punishment of unheard-of crimes.
But, as we have before remarked, the magiric art always survives revolutions and ruin of empires. Modern Italy inherited the wrecks of Roman cookery, and, thanks to her, Europe is at the present day acquainted with the delights of good cheer, and the charm of joyous repasts.
Under the reign of Louis XII. there arose a company of sauce manufacturers, who obtained the exclusive privilege of making sauces. Their statutes (1394) inform us that the famous sauce à la cameline, sold by them, was to be composed “of good cinnamon, good ginger, good cloves, good grains of paradise, good bread, and good vinegar.” The sauce, Tence, was to be made of “good sound almonds, good ginger, good wine, and good verjuice.” We find in Taillevant, the celebrated cook of Charles V. and Charles VI., besides the cameline, l’eau bénite (holy water)—the sauce for pike, le saupiquet, le mostechan, la gélatine, la sauce à l’alose, au moût, that of milk-garlic, cold, red, and green sauces, sauce Robert, Poitevine, à Madame rappée, and à la dodine.