In the palace of the French ambassador at Rome, Cardinal Bernis, there
was an unusually busy movement to-day. From the kitchen-boys to the
major-domo, all were in a most lively motion, in the most passionate
activity. For this morning, while taking his chocolate, the cardinal had
sent for his major-domo, and, quite contrary to the usual joviality
of his manner, had very seriously and solemnly said to him: “Signor
Brunelli, I to-day intrust you with a very important and responsible
duty, that of making as splendid as possible the grand festival we are
three days hence to give in honor of the Archduke Ferdinand. No pains
must be spared, nothing must be wanting; the most luxurious richness,
the most tasteful decoration, the most extravagant splendor must be
exhibited. For this entertainment must excite the attention not only of
Rome, but of all Europe; it must become the subject of conversation at
all the courts, and, above all, it must cause the despair of all present
ambassadorial housekeeping. I have very important diplomatic reasons
for this. All Europe shall see how devoted France is to the empire of
Austria, and what a good understanding subsists between the two courts.
Therefore, Signor Brunelli, strain your inventive head, that it may on
this occasion hit upon whatever is most distinguished and pre-eminent,
for this must be an entertainment never before equalled. That is what
I expect, what I demand of you; and if you satisfy my demands, it will
give me pleasure to reward your zeal by a present of a hundred ducats.”
Thus with solemn dignity spoke the cardinal, while sipping his
chocolate; and Signor Brunelli had pledged himself by a solemn oath
punctually to fulfil his master’s commands, and to astonish Rome with
an entertainment such as had never been recorded in the annals of
diplomatic history.
With a proud step had Brunelli gone to his own private cabinet,
where, having shut himself up, he had devoted several hours to serious
meditation upon the deep plans presenting themselves to his mind. But
Signor Brunelli had, in fact, a very experienced and inventive head, and
the cardinal acted wisely in confiding in his major-domo and leaving to
him the ordering of the entertainment.
He had now, with the sharp glance of a military commander, arranged his
plan of battle, and felt perfectly sure of victory. He therefore rang
for a servant, and commanded the attendance of the chief cook in the
cabinet of the major-domo. Then with a gentlemanlike listlessness he
threw himself upon the divan and began to sip his coffee with the exact
dignified deportment that had been displayed by his excellency the
cardinal.
“Signor Gianettino,” said he, to the entering cook, “I propose honoring
you to-day with a very important and significant affair. I wish, on the
day after to-morrow, to prepare an entertainment which in splendor and
magnificence shall surpass anything hitherto seen. You know that the
major-domos of the other diplomatists have become my irreconcilable
enemies through envy; they cannot forgive me for having more inventive
faculties and better taste than any of them! We must bring these
major-domos to despair, and with a gnashing of teeth they shall
acknowledge that in all things I am their master. You, however, must
aid me in this great work; in your hands, Signor Gianettino, lies a
considerable part of my triumph and my laurels. For what does it help
me, if the arrangements and decorations, if the whole establishment,
are excellent, should there be a failure in the highest and most sublime
part of the entertainment--in the food. The food, my dear sir, and a
well-ordered table, is the gist of a festival, and should there be the
least failure in that, the whole is profaned and desecrated, and must
be covered with a mourning-veil. Take my words to heart, signor; let
us have a table covered with food the mere odor of which shall set our
first gourmets in ecstatic astonishment, while its judicious arrangement
will give pleasure to the poetic mind! This is what I expect of you, and
if you succeed in satisfying my requirements, I am ready to reward your
exertions with fifty bottles of our best French wines.”
Signor Gianettino returned his thanks with a pleasant, thoughtful smile,
and with a majestic step repaired to his boudoir, where he was seen for
a long time, walking back and forth in deep thought and with a wrinkled
brow. Then, stepping to his writing-table, he sketched the plan of this
inordinately great dinner, at first slowly and thoughtfully, and then
with constantly more and more fire and enthusiasm, carried away by the
greatness of the occasion, and animated by the importance of his mission
and his calling.
Then, throwing aside the pen, and exhausted by so great an effort,
he gently glided down upon the divan, at the same time ringing for a
servant whom he directed to bring his breakfast and afterward to summon
all the cooks and scullions to his cabinet. He then stretched himself
with eminent grace upon the divan, as he had seen the major-domo do;
with a serious thoughtfulness he sipped the glass of Malvoisie the
servant had brought him, with sundry _pates_ and rare _entremets_.
And they came, the cooks and scullions, they came in their white
jackets, with their white aprons and snow-white caps; they came in
solemn silence, fully impressed with the importance of the moment.
“Signors,” said the chief cook, “it is on a beautiful and sublime affair
that I have assembled you here to-day. It concerns an increase of the
fame and triumphs we have so many times gained over our diplomatic
rivals, and an increase of the laurels we have won in the sacred realms
of our art! I propose to prepare a banquet for to-morrow, and for that I
require your support and aid, gentlemen. For what is the use of ever
so good a plan of battle of a commander-in-chief, if his troops fail in
courage and skill to carry out the plan of their general? Gentlemen, I
doubt not your courage or skill! You will contend for the sake of the
fame we have acquired and hitherto enjoyed without dispute, for the sake
of the fame which the French _cuisine_ has enjoyed for centuries, and
which must be preserved until the end of all things! You will stand
by me, gentlemen, in the praiseworthy effort to acquire new glory for
France, by showing these little Austrian princes and these gentlemen
diplomatists what wonderful things the French art of cookery can bring
to pass. The plan is devised and sketched, and all that is now required
is its execution. If this great work succeeds, then, gentlemen, you may
feel assured of my eternal gratitude--a gratitude which I will prove to
you by leaving all the remains of the dinner to your free use and sole
benefit! Here is the plan, hasten to the work; I have assigned to each
one the part he is to take in its accomplishment. Hasten, therefore! I,
however, by way of exception, will myself go to the market to-day and
make the necessary purchases. On such an important occasion, no one,
however highly placed, must decline labor and the faithful performance
of duty. I go, therefore, and six of the kitchen-boys may follow me with
their baskets.”
Thus speaking, the chief cook, Signor Gianettino, took his hat and
gold-headed cane to go to the market. Six kitchen-boys, armed with large
baskets, followed him at a respectful distance.
At the great vegetable and fish-market of Rome there was to-day a very
unusual and extraordinary life and movement. There was a crowd and
tumult, a roaring and screaming, a shouting and laughing, such as had
not been heard for a long time. It was partly in consequence of the fact
that the whole diplomatic corps had been for some days agitated with
preparations for entertainments in honor of the Archduke Ferdinand,
who had come to Rome to see the wonders of the holy city, and who could
hardly find time and leisure for the festivities offered him. But for
the tradesmen and dealers, for the country people in the vicinity of
Rome, this presence of the Austrian prince was a happy circumstance; for
these banquets and festivals scattered money among the people, and the
dealers and honest country people could fearlessly raise their prices,
as they were sure of a sale for their commodities. The cooks and
servants of the diplomatists and cardinals were seen running hither and
thither in busy haste, everywhere selecting the best, everywhere buying
and cheapening.
But in one place in the market there was to-day an especial liveliness
and activity among the crowd, and to that spot Signor Gianettino bent
his steps. He had seen the cook of the Spanish ambassador, the Duke of
Grimaldi, among those collected there, and as this cook was one of his
bitterest enemies and opponents, Signor Gianettino resolved to watch
him, and, if possible, to play him a trick. He therefore cautiously
mingled with the crowd, and made a sign to his followers to keep at a
distance from him.
It was certainly a very important affair with which the Spanish cook
Don Bempo was occupied, as it concerned the purchase of a fish that a
countryman had brought to the city, of such a monstrous size and weight
that the like had never been seen there. It was the most remarkable
specimen with which the Roman fish-market had ever been honored. But the
lucky fisherman was fully aware of the extraordinary beauty of his fish,
and in his arrogant pride demanded twenty ducats for it.
That was what troubled Don Bempo. Twenty ducats for one single fish,
and the major-domo of the Spanish ambassador had urged upon him the most
stringent economy; but he had, indeed, at the same time urged upon him
to provide everything as splendid as possible for the banquet which the
Duke of Grimaldi was to give in honor of the Archduke Ferdinand; indeed,
he had with an anxious sigh commanded him to outdo if possible the next
day’s feast of Cardinal Bernis, and to provide yet rarer and more costly
viands than the French cook.
That was what Don Bempo was now considering, and what made him waver in
his first determination not to buy the fish.
There was only this one gigantic fish in the market; and, if he bought
it, Signor Gianettino, his enemy, of course, could not possess it; the
triumph of the day would then inure to the Spanish embassy, and Don
Bempo would come off conqueror. That was indeed a very desirable object,
but--twenty ducats was still an enormous price, and was not at all
reconcilable with the recommended economy.
At any rate he dared not buy the fish without first consulting the
major-domo of the duke.
“You will not, then, sell this fish for twelve ducats?” asked Don Bempo,
just as Gianettino had unnoticedly approached. “Reflect, man, twelve
ducats are a fortune--it is a princely payment!”
The fisherman contemptuously shook his head. “Rather than sell it for
twelve ducats I would eat it myself,” said he, “and invite my friends,
these good Romans, as guests! Go, go, sublime Spanish Don, and buy
gudgeons for your pair of miserable ducats! Such a fish as this is too
dear for you; you Spanish gentlemen should buy gudgeons!”
“Bravo! bravo!” cried the laughing spectators. “Gudgeons for the Spanish
gentlemen with high-nosed faces and empty pockets!”
Don Bempo blushed with anger and wounded pride. “I shall unquestionably
buy this fish,” said he, “for nothing is too dear for my master when the
honor of our nation is to be upheld. But you must allow me time to go
home and get the money from the major-domo. Keep the fish, therefore, so
long, and I will return with the twenty ducats for it.”
And majestically Don Bempo made himself a path through the crowd, which
laughingly stepped aside for him, shouting: “Gudgeons for the Spanish
gentleman! _Viva_ Don Bempo, who pays twenty ducats for a fish!”
“He will certainly not come back,” said the fisherman, shaking his head.
“He goes to buy gudgeons!” cried another.
“What will you bet that he returns to buy the fish?” said a third.
“He will not buy it!” interposed a fourth. “These Spaniards have no
money; they are poor devils!”
“Who dares say that?” shrieked another, and now suddenly followed one of
those quarrels which are so quickly excited on the least occasion among
the passionate people of the south. There was much rage, abuse, and
noise. How flashed the eyes, how shook the fists, what threats resounded
there!
“Peace, my dear friends, be quiet, I tell you!” cried the fisherman,
with his stentorian voice. “See, there comes a new purchaser for my
fish. Be quiet, and let us see how much France is disposed to offer us.”
The disturbance subsided as suddenly as it had arisen, and all pressed
nearer; all directed interrogating, curious, expectant glances at Signor
Gianettino, who just at that moment approached with a proud and grave
step, followed by the solemn train of six scullions with their baskets.
No one had before remarked him in the crowd, for they had been all eyes
and ears for Don Bempo, and hence every one supposed that he had only
just then arrived.
The shrewd chief cook also assumed the appearance of having only
accidentally passed that way without the intention of buying any thing.
But he suddenly stopped before the great fish as if astonished at its
enormous size, and seemed to view it with admiration and delight.
“What a rare and splendid animal is this!” he finally exclaimed with
animation. “Really, one must come to Rome to see such a wonder!”
“That is understood!” exultingly cried the bystanders, who had a
reverence for the fishes of Rome.
“This is no niggard! _He_ will not be so mean as to offer twelve ducats
for such a miracle as this!”
“Twelve ducats!” cried Gianettino, folding his hands. “How can you think
me so pitiful as to offer such a miserable sum for so noble a fish. No,
truly, he must have a bold forehead who would offer so little money for
this splendid animal!”
“Hear him! hear!” cried the people. “This is a learned man. He knows
something of the value of rarities!”
“_Viva!_ Long life to the French cook, _il grande ministre della
cucina!_”
Gianettino bowed politely in response to the compliment, and then
civilly asked the price of the fish.
The fisherman stood there with an expression of regretful sadness upon
his face. “I fear it will be of little use to name the price!” said he,
“the fish is as good as sold!”
“Nevertheless, name the price!”
“Twenty ducats!”
“Twenty ducats!” exclaimed Gianettino, with an expression of the
liveliest astonishment. “You jest, my friend! How can such a splendid
animal be possibly sold for twenty ducats?”
“Here! hear!” shouted the crowd. “He finds the price too low!”
“He is a real gentleman!”
“He will not buy gudgeons like the Spaniard!”
“In earnest, friend, tell me the price of this fish!” said Gianettino.
“I have demanded twenty ducats for it,” sadly responded the fisherman,
“and it is sold for that sum.”
“Impossible! In that case it would not be lying here!” replied
Gianettino. “Or had the man paid you the money, and now gone for a cart
for the conveyance of the giant?”
“I have not yet been paid.”
“The purchaser, then, has given you earnest money?”
“No, not even that. I have yet received nothing upon it.”
“And you can pretend that you have sold this fish,” cried Gianettino,
“and that, too, for the ridiculously small sum of twenty ducats! Ah,
you are a joker, my good man; you wish to excite in me a desire for this
rare specimen, and therefore you say it is sold. But how can a fish that
yet lies exposed for sale, and for which no one had made you a suitable
offer, be already sold?”
And gravely approaching the giant of the waters, Gianettino laid his
hand upon his head and solemnly said: “The fish is mine. I purchase it;
you demand twenty ducats! But I shall give you what you ought to have,
and what the creature is worth! I shall pay you six-and-thirty ducats
for him!”
The crowd, which had maintained an anxious and breathless silence during
this negotiation, now broke out with a loud and exulting shout.
“That is a real nobleman!”
“_Evviva il ministro della cucina! Il grande Gianettino!_”
“That is no parsimonious Spaniard! He is a French cavalier. He will buy
no gudgeons, but will have the right Roman fish.”
“Gentlemen,” said Gianettino, modestly casting down his eyes, “I do not
understand your praises, and it seems to me I only deal like a man of
honor, as every one of you would do! This honest man taxes his wares too
low; I give him what they are worth! That is all. If I acted otherwise I
should not long remain in the service of the lofty and generous Cardinal
Bernis! Justice and generosity, that is the first command of his
excellency!”
“_Evviva_ the French ambassador!”
“Praise and honor to Cardinal Bernis!”
And while the people were thus shouting, Gianettino from his well-filled
purse paid down the six-and-thirty ducats upon the fisherman’s board. He
then commanded his six attendant scullions to bear off the fish.
It was, indeed, a heavy work to place the enormous animal upon their
baskets, but the active Romans cheerfully lent a hand, and when they had
succeeded in the difficult task, and the six youngsters bent under their
heavy load, Signor Gianettino gravely put himself at the head of the
train, and proudly gave the order: “Forward to the kitchen of his
excellency Cardinal Bernis!”
At this moment a man was seen making his way through the crowd;
thrusting right and left with his elbows, he incessantly pushed on, and,
just as Signor Gianettino had fairly got his troop in motion, the man,
who was no other than Don Bempo, succeeded in reaching the fisherman’s
table.
“Here, I bring you the twenty ducats,” he proudly called out. “They will
no longer say that the Spaniards buy gudgeons. The fish is mine! There
are your twenty ducats!”
And, with a supercilious air, Don Bempo threw the money upon the table.
But just as proudly did the fisherman push back the money. “The fish is
sold!” said he.
“Forward, march!” repeated Signor Gianettino his word of command.
“Forward to the kitchen of his excellency Cardinal Bernis!”
And with solemn dignity the train began to move.
Don Bempo with a cry of rage rushed upon the fish.
“This fish is mine,” he wildly cried, “I was the first to offer its
price, I offered twenty ducats, and only went home to get the money!”
“And I,” exclaimed Signor Gianettino, “I offered thirty-six ducats, and
immediately paid the cash, as I always have money by me.”
“It is Signor Gianettino, the cook of the French ambassador, and I am
ruined!” groaned Don Bempo, staggering back.
“Yes, it is the cook of his excellency the cardinal!” cried the crowd.
“And the cardinal is an honorable man!”
“He is no Spanish niggard!”
“He does not haggle for a giant fish; he pays more than is demanded!”
“I hope,” said Signor Gianettino to Don Bempo, who still convulsively
grasped the fish, “that you will now take your hands from my property
and leave me to go my way without further hindrance. It is not noble to
lay hands on the goods of another, Don Bempo, and this fish is mine!”
“But this is contrary to all international law!” exclaimed the enraged
Don Bempo. “You forget, signor, that you insult my master, that you
insult Spain, by withholding from me by main force what I have purchased
in the name of Spain.”
“France will never stand second to Spain!” proudly responded
Gianettino, “and where Spain _offers_ twenty ducats, France _pays_
six-and-thirty!--Forward, my youngsters! To the kitchen of the French
ambassador!”
And urgently pushing back Don Bempo, Gianettino solemnly marched through
the crowd with his retinue, the people readily making a path for him and
cheering him as he went.
It was a brilliant triumph in the person of the chief cook of their
ambassador, which the French celebrated to-day; it was a shameful defeat
which Spain suffered to-day in the person of her ambassador’s chief
cook.
Proud and happy marched Signor Gianettino through the streets,
accompanied by his gigantic fish, and followed by the shouts of a Roman
mob.
Humiliated, with eyes cast down, with rage in his heart sneaked Don
Bempo toward the Spanish ambassador’s hotel, and long heard behind him
the whistling, laughter, and catcalls of the Roman people.