market this morning?" "No, Sir," said John. "Then, John," replied Quin, addressing himself again to sleep, "You may call me at nine to-morrow!" But, perhaps, a better illustration still of the gastronomic propensities of the player is to be found in the epigram written by Garrick, and described by him as "Quin's soliloquy on seeing Duke Humphrey at St. Alban's."

A plague on Egypt's art, I say:
Embalm the dead! on senseless clay

Rich wines and spices waste!
Like sturgeon, or like brawn, shall I,
Bound in a precious pickle, lie,

Which I shall never taste?

Let me embalm this flesh of mine
With turtle fat and Bordeaux wine,
And spoil th' Egyptian trade.
Than Humphrey's Duke more happy I,
Embalm'd alive, old Quin shall die,

A mummy ready made! "Bread and milk" gives us now but a simple idea of a simple yet salubrious diet. It was used, however, for other purposes than food in the ancient Roman days. Roman "exquisites" of either sex rubbed their faces with a mixture of bread and milk; nay, sometimes wore a poultice of the same on the face, in order to make their complexions fair milk baths, too, were more common with the Romans than with the French in the days of Louis XV. Five hundred female asses sup plied the daily bath of the Empress Poppia. As an article of medical diet this milk became fashionable in France in the reign of Francis I. It had been successfully prescribed for the enervated King, and forthwith all the nobility took to imbibing asses' milk as a symbol of their loyalty. Eggs were as fashionable in Rome when Livia kept one in her bosom till it was hatched; then, a “cock-chick " appearing, she and the augurs divined that she was about to present her husband with a male heir. The birth of Tiberius proved their excellence as diviners. But the singularity of incubation in an imperial bosom is surpassed by an old Egyptian method of cooking eggs without fire. "The shepherds of Egypt placed them in a sling, which they turned so rapidly that the friction of the air heated them to the exact point required for use!" They must have had a curious taste; but after all they were better than the ragout of hedgehogs which was so greedily eaten by GENT. MAG. VOL. XL.

the Greek rustics. The "ragout à la Sardanaple," for which the King of Prussia thanked his cook Noel in verse, was perhaps not a much more refined dish. The Prussian court was but a barbarous locality, even when France, which it copied, most boasted of refinement. Witness what the Margravine of Bareith says of her father, Frederick-William, who sat at state dinners from one o'clock in the day till midnight. He only occasionally allowed his children a wretched soup made out of bare bones and salt; and, when he did not starve them altogether, he would spit into the dishes from which he had helped himself, in order to prevent their touching them. At other times he compelled them to eat the most loathsome and disgusting compositions, "ce qui nous obligeait," says the Margravine, “quelquefois de rendre en sa presence tout ce que nous avions dans le corps!" And after this the tender parent and Christian king would fling the plates at his daughter's head, and strike at her with his crutch, as she flew by him in order to escape! To such fits of rage and uncleanliness was the Brandenburg potentate subject! Pity that he could not be cured of them as Hercules was of epileptic fits, by smelling at quails-birds, by the way, which at Rome were little eaten, because they were supposed to cause epilepsy. This confusion of ideas has extended to later times. The sacred tooth of St. Apollonia, in the cathedral at Bonn, is kissed by sufferers, in profound conviction that a cure of the dental agony must follow. I have seen the relic kissed by hundreds of believers, and yet all that is known of the Egyptian lady is, that, if she cures teeth now, she could not when alive keep her own in her head. While on the subject of "contradictions," let me observe a most remarkable one in M. Soyer's book. At page 198, he says that Varro's aunt reared and sold 60,000 thrushes yearly; that they were bred in multitudes in all Roman villas; and that they became so numerous "that they furnished a plentiful manure for the land;"-and in the very next page we find it written that, "Pompey being ill, his physician ordered him a thrush, but it was impossible to find one in Rome." I do not see how these contradictory assertions

3 N

are to be reconciled, for the Varro named above, who records the fact alluded to in his "De Re Rusticâ," (and who composed a later work on the Latin language when he was an octogenarian,) was Pompey's own lieu tenant in his piratical wars. He is as well known to "devout" as to "classical" readers, for his erudition was the wondering theme, not only of Cicero, but of St. Augustine. But, to return to my subject: however it may have been with thrushes, ostriches must have been common birds at the imperial purveyor's in the days of Heliogabalus, who daily required six hundred of them to furnish his wellladen board with a single dish of their brains! The dish was, after all, not so barbarous a one as the woodcock--the delight of modern gourmets. These suspend the bird by the beamfeather of the middle of its tail: when the body gets loose and full, it is then considered ripe for eating. How it is eaten we all know, but Sonnini best describes. "The woodcock is cooked with the entrails in, which, being pounded with what they contain, forms its own and best seasoning." The seaeels of the Romans, fattened on the flesh of live slaves, flung to them for such purpose, made about as delicate a dish. There was, indeed, a barbarous refinement, if one may employ such a compound term, in all the Romans did at table. The mullet will furnish us with one instance. This fish, alive, but with its scales removed, was placed on the table in a glass vessel, beneath which a spirit-flame was kindled. The object was to allow the guests to regale themselves with observing the gradations of pink colours through which the fish passed until it was at once dead and cooked. This was bad enough, to be sure; but we inflict more suffering on many animals on whose flesh we feed; and, if it shows a certain degree of cruelty, it does not prove so much heartlessness as existed in Madame du Defland, who dried her tears at her lover's death when she reflected that he died at a sufficiently early hour in the day to allow of her going to a gay dinner at Madame de Marchais'. Nor was there much more feeling in the sprightly convives who used to sup with Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse, to watch the gradual progress she made

towards death, as the Romans did the mullets.

But let us now see how royalty dined in Christian countries, and let us afterwards contrast therewith the dinner of an imperial pagan. First, here is Louis XIV. at "feedingtime:"

The usher of the court, at the hour named, goes and knocks with his wand at the door of the hall of the body-guard, and says:"Gentlemen, to the King's table!" A guard is dispatched, who follow him to the goblet, where one of the officers for the service of the table takes the nave. The

guard accompany him, marching by his side, sword in hand. Having arrived at the dining-room, the officers spread the cloth, try the napkins, the fork, the spoon, the knife, and the tooth-picks; that is to say, they touch them with a morsel of bread, which they afterwards eat. The usher returns again to the hall of the bodyguard, koocks at the door with his wand, and cries, "Gentlemen, the King's meat!" Four guards then follow him to the ambry, where the equerry of the household and the chief steward or major-domo test the dishes, by dipping therein a piece of bread, which they eat. After this, the King's meat is carried, the guards marching with their drawn swords on either side, the chief steward, preceded by the usher, walking in front. When he arrives near the table he approaches the nave, makes an obeisance to it, and if the announcer, or any other person, desire to do it, he may. The gentlemen in waiting place the dishes successively, and, the table being covered with them, the King then enters. It is to be remarked that it is always a prince or great personage who presents the wet napkin to him with which to wash his hands, whereas it is a simple valet who presents The King takes his seat. The equerry carhim with the dry napkin to wipe them.

ver carves the viands. The King serves himself on a plate of gold. When he asks for drink, the cup-bearer calls aloud, "Drink for the King!" At the same time he makes his obeisance to him, goes to the buffet, takes two crystal decanters, one of which is filled with wine and the other with water, returns to the King, makes another obeisance, removes the cover of the glass; and presents it to the King, who pours out wine and water according to his own pleasure. During the dinner a group of lordly courtiers stand behind his chair and endeavour, though frequently in vain, to divert him and make him laugh; and another group, composed of ladies of the court, stand behind the Queen's chair, and on their part try to amuse her and excite a

smile. The King eats only with the royal family and princes of the blood. Sometimes, however, the Pope's nuncio has the honour of sitting at the same table, but always at the distance of four places!

Such are the details which M. Soyer has copied from the learned Monteil. Let us now show from Brantz Mayer's great work on Mexico, how the heathen Montezuma looked at table. The Spaniards of the day denounced him as an unclean barbarian, but it may be asserted that he was more clean of life than the great Louis; much more so in his person, for he renewed his body linen four times daily, which the Grand Monarque did not do above once in three days; and at table, it must be allowed, the Aztec fed much more becomingly than did the Gaul. I have said that the description is taken from the great work of Brantz Mayer, but the words are those of gossiping old Bernal Diaz, who was an eye-witness of what he relates::

Montezuma's cooks had thirty different ways of dressing meats, and they had earthen vessels so contrived as to keep them constantly hot. For the table of Montezuma himself above three hundred dishes were dressed. . . . Before dinner, Montezuma would sometimes go out and inspect the

preparations, and his officers would point

out to him which were the best, and explain of what birds and flesh they were composed, and of those he would eat. But this was more for amusement than anything else. It is said that at times the flesh of young children was dressed for him; but the ordinary meats were domestic fowls, pheasants, geese, partridges, quails, venison, Indian hogs, pigeons, hares, and rabbits, with many other animals and birds peculiar to the country. This is certain that, after Cortez had spoken to him relative to the dressing of human flesh, it was not practised in his palace. At his meals, in the cold weather, a number of torches of the bark of the wood which makes no smoke and has an aromatic smell, were lighted; and, that they should not throw too much heat, screens ornamented with gold, and painted with figures of idols, were placed before them. Montezuma was seated on a low throne, or chair, at a table proportioned to the height of his seat.

The table was covered with white cloths

and napkins, and four beautiful women presented him with water for his hands, in vessels which they call xicales, with other vessels under them, like plates, to catch the water. They also presented him with towels. Then two other women brought

small cakes of bread, and when the King began to eat, a large screen of gilded wood was placed before him, so that during that period people should not behold him. The women having retired to a little distance, four ancient lords stood by the throne, to whom Montezuma, from time to time, mark of particular favour, gave to each of spoke or addressed questions, and, as a them a plate of that which he was eating! He was served in earthenware of Cholula, red and black. While the King was at the table, no one of his guards in the vicinity of his apartment, dared, for their lives, make any noise.

He drank moderately of a stimulating preparation of cocoa; and at intervals he was amused by the feats of dancers, jesters, singers, and dwarfs like exciting general curiosity in London. those Aztec Lilliputians who have been

...

The four female attendants then took respect, presented him with water to wash away the cloths, and again, with much his hands. After he had dined, they presented to him three little canes, highly ornamented, containing liquid amber, mixed with a herb they call "tobacco." . . . He took a little of the smoke of one of those canes, and then laid himself down to sleep.

Now, with the exception of the "children," and that is held by respectable authorities to have been a hastily asserted calumny of the credulous Spaniard, there is nothing in the above picture which does not wear about it an aspect of as much civilized dignity as any thing that was to be seen at the banquet of "the Most Christian King." We see nothing in it so barbarous as what passed at the table of the converted Clovis, who, when dining with a bishop at his right hand, plucked a hair from his head and presented it to the prelate. The courtiers followed the example of their lord, and the episcopal guest went away with more dirty hair in his hand than he had on his head!

Table-napkins were alike common to Montezuma and to Louis le Grand, They are of ancient origin. In the days of the Roman empire each guest brought his own, "as we bring our own pocket handkerchiefs." It would seem, too, that at great dinners the best napkins were as much sought after by those who had no right to them as at modern entertainments is said to be the case with the "best hats."

But it is time to make an end of these gossiping details, drawn from various sources. With the chief of them, the Pantropheon, the reader, perhaps, would have been content to have found less learning and more solid instruction touching the article of diet and its constitutional effects. It is by no means an unwarrantable or an unnatural application of a vulgar phrase to say that the display of erudition is actually "stunning." The head throbs at it, for hard words are continually knocking to attract attention; and "cataclysm" stands for the "deluge," and "gastrophagist" is incessantly presenting itself when it is least wanted. In some cases, indeed, M. Soyer has exhibited as much ardour of curiosity as was shewn by Conrad Scriblerus when he heard of the pomegranate that grew on the inside of the femur of the daughter of Gasper Barthius; and it is only matter for surprise that when speaking of the applications and uses of food, he omitted to notice for what reason the said Conrad and the future mother of Martin lived for a whole year on goat's milk and honey. But the greatest defect in the book is the injustice which it does to the immortal Carême; to him who was descended from the famous cook of Leo X., whom that pontiff ennobled by the title of Jean de Carême, or John o' Lent, because of the succulent but orthodox dishes which that artist invented in order to please the pontifical palate at a season when gratification by gravy was heretical and damnable. Carême preferred to serve Baron Rothschild in France (who

gave him more than the revenue of a German prince for his patés) rather than remain chef to the Regent in England. His patriotic genius invented for France alone his famous sauce piquante, the result of his studies under Richaut, Asne, and Robert L'Ainé. The house of the Regent was a ménage too bourgeois for the aristocratic soul and genius of Carême; and it was in France that he wrote his learned and curious work, "Le Maître d'Hôtel Français," in which he displayed a spirit of philosophical inquiry mingled with much that is pleasant and more that is instructive. His claims to notice should not have been overlooked, and la courtoisie entre confrères ne gâtent rien, pas même les sauces! With this exception, if the zeal and industry of M. Soyer and his collaborateurs have failed to effect for their subject all that was accomplished by Carême, who might have exclaimed, like Coriolanus, “Alone, I did it!" they have, nevertheless, been very pleasingly and profitably employed. Indeed where so much abounds it were uncourteous to dwell upon the little that lacks, and thanks are due to the author who has treated

the public as Porphyro did Madeline on the Eve of St. Agnes: he has

"brought a heap

Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrups tinct with cinnamon ;
Manna and dates in argosy transferred
From Fez; and spiced dainties every one
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon."
J. DORAN.

it is claimed by more than one nation as a legitimate boundary to their empire. And it displays, in consequence, vast fortresses and fortified lines, which seem to give but little promise of universal peace.

Among the most interesting objects which rise from above the villages and towns, the churches are naturally conspicuous. Many of these have an air of great antimity, and in England would be with those called