"Consider about placing
Each person in the post that befits him.
Between relations it behooves
To place others midway sometimes."
We should respect the _superstitions_ of the dinner-table. No one
should be helped twice to soup; it means an early death. Few are free
from the feeling that thirteen is an unlucky number; so avoid that, as
no one wishes to make a guest uncomfortable. As we have said, Gasthea
is an irritable muse; she must be flattered and pampered. No one must
put salt on another's plate. There is a strong prejudice against
spilling the salt; but evil consequences can be avoided by throwing a
pinch of salt over the left shoulder.
These remarks may seem frivolous to those unhappy persons who have not
the privilege of being superstitious. It gives great zest to life to
have a few harmless superstitions. It is the cheese _fondu_ of the
mental faculties; and we may add that a consideration of these maxims,
handed down from a glorious past of gastronomes, contributes to the
various modes of gastronomic gratification. We must remember that the
tongue of man, by the delicacy of its structure, gives ample evidences
of the high functions to which it is destined. The Roman epicures
cultivated their taste so perfectly that they could tell if a fish
were caught above or below a bridge. Organic perfection, epicureanism,
or the art of good living, belongs to man alone. The pleasure of
eating is the only one, taken in moderation, which is common to every
time, age, and condition, which is enjoyed without fatigue or danger,
which must be repeated two or three times a day. It can combine with
our other pleasures, or console us for their loss.
"_Un bon diner, c'est un consolation pour les illusions perdus._" And
we have an especial satisfaction, when in the act of eating, that we
are prolonging our existence, and enabling ourselves to become good
citizens whilst enjoying ourselves.
Thus the pleasures of the table, the act of dining, the various modes
of gastronomic gratification should receive our most respectful
consideration. "Let the soup be hot, and the wines cool. Let the
coffee be perfect, and the liqueurs chosen with peculiar care. Let the
guests be detained by the social enjoyment, and animated with the hope
that before the evening is over there is still some pleasure in
store."
Our modern hostesses who understand the art of entertaining often have
music, or some recitations, in the drawing-room after the dinner; and
in England it is often made the occasion of an evening party.
Thus gourmandize is that social love of good dinners which combines in
one Athenian elegance, Roman luxury, and Parisian refinement. It
implies discretion to arrange, skill to prepare, and taste to direct.
It cannot be done superficially, and if done well it takes time,
experience, and care. "To be a success, a dinner must be thought out."
"By right divine, man is the king of nature, and all that the earth
produces is for him. It is for him that the quail is fattened, the
grape ripened. For him alone the Mocha possesses so agreeable an
aroma, for him the sugar has such wholesome properties."
He, and he alone, banquets in company, and so far from good living
being hurtful to health, Brillat Savarin declares that the _gourmets_
have a larger dose of vitality than other men. But they have their
sorrows, and the worst of them is a bad dinner,--an ill-considered,
wretchedly composed, over-burdened repast, in which there is little
enjoyment for the brain, and a constant disappointment to the palate.
"Let the dishes be exceedingly choice and but few in number, and the
wines of the best quality. Let the order of serving be from the more
substantial to the lighter." Let the eating proceed without hurry or
bustle, since the dinner is the last business of the day; and let the
guests look upon themselves as travellers about to reach the same
destination together.
A dinner is not, as we see, a matter of butler or _chef_ alone. "It is
the personal trouble which a host and hostess are willing to take; it
is the intimate association of a cultivated nature with the practical
business of entertaining, which makes the perfect dinner.
"Conviviality concerns everything, hence it produces fruits of all
flavours. All the ingenuity of man has been for centuries concentrated
upon increasing and intensifying the pleasures of the table."
The Greeks used flowers to adorn vases and to crown the guests. They
ate under the vault of heaven, in gardens, in groves, in the presence
of all the marvels of nature. To the pleasures of the table were
joined the charms of music and the sound of instruments. Whilst the
court of the king of the Phoenicians were feasting, Phenius, a
minstrel, celebrated the deeds of the warriors of bygone times. Often,
too, dancers and jugglers and comic actors, of both sexes and in every
costume, came to engage the eye, without lessening the pleasures of
the table.
We eat in heated rooms, too much heated perhaps, and brilliantly
lighted, as they should be. The present fancy for shaded lamps, and
easily ignitible shades, leads to impromptu conflagrations which are
apt to injure Saint Table-Cloth. That poor martyr is burned at the
steak quite too often. Our dancers and jugglers are introduced after
dinner, not during dinner; and we have our warriors at the table
amongst the guests. Nor do we hire Phenius, a minstrel, to discourse
of their great deeds.
I copy from a recent paper the following remarks. Mr. Elbridge T.
Gerry, says: "There are in society some newly admitted members who,
with the best intentions imaginable, are never able to do things in
just the proper style. They are persons of wealth, fairly good
breeding and possessed of a desire to entertain. With all the
good-humoured witticisms that the newspapers indulge in on this
subject, it is nevertheless a fact that the art of entertaining
requires deep and careful study, as well as natural aptitude."
Some of the greatest authors have stated this in poetry and prose.
"A typical member of this new class recently gave a dinner to a number
of persons in society. It was a very dull affair. There was
prodigality in everything, but no taste, and no refinement. The fellow
amused me by telling us he had no trouble in getting up a fine dinner;
he had only to tell his butler and _chef_ to get up a meal for so many
persons, and the whole thing was done. There are few persons fortunate
enough to possess _chefs_ and butlers of that kind; he certainly was
not. Of the persons who attended his dinner, nine out of ten were
displeased and will never attend another. It does not take long for
the experienced member of society to know whether a host or hostess is
qualified to entertain, and the climbers soon find it a hard piece of
business to secure guests."
But on the other hand, we can reason that so fond of the various modes
of gastronomic gratification is the human race, that the dinner giver
is a very popular variety of the _genus homo_; nor does the host or
hostess generally find it a hard matter to secure guests. Indeed
there is a vulgar proverb to the effect that if the Devil gives a
ball, all the angels will go to it.
"If you want an animal to love you, feed it." So that the host can
stand a great deal of criticism. We should, however, take a hint from
the Arabs, nor abuse the salt; it is almost worse than spilling it.
Lady Morgan described the cookery of France as being "the standard and
gauge of modern civilization;" and when, during the peace which
followed Waterloo, Brillat Savarin turned his thoughts to the
æsthetics of the dinner-table, he probably added more largely to the
health and happiness of the human race than any other known
philanthropist. We must not forget what had gone before in the
developments and refinements of the reigns of Louis XIV., XV., and the
Regent; we must not forget the honour done to gastronomy by such
statesmen as Colbert, such soldiers as Condé, nor by such a wit and
beauty as Madame de Sevigné.