The Physiology of Taste by Brillat Savarin (bearly read books txt) 📖

ready to

depart, a cook needs more talent than he who has solved the

INFINTESIMAL CALCULUS.”

 

The world was much surprised by finding in a book by Brillat

Savarin, a man it had always looked upon as simply a very pleasant

person, such a vast collection of general information; after his

laborious profession he had always seemed to expend the rest of

his time with the muses and graces, and none could divine where he

obtained so much information, as almost to recall the story of

some gray-haired sage of Greece. He had however already composed

more than one work unrecognised, if we except the two opuscula

“Critical and Historical Essay on Duel, with Relation to our

Legislation and Morals,” and a work on judicial practice. They

were successful, but he was just then attacked by a violent cold,

contracted by being present at the annual ceremony, [Footnote: Not

only Brillat Savarin, but Robert De St. Vincent, and Attorney

General Marchangy, contracted their death in consequence of the

same ceremonial.] the 21st of January at the Church of St. Dennis.

In spite of every care and attention, on the 2d of February, 1826,

he died. For many years gifted with robust health and athletic

constitution, made the more remarkable by his tall stature,

Brillat Savarin had a presentiment of the approach of death; this

feeling, however, did not influence the tenor of his life, for his

habitual gaity was maintained unimpaired. When the fatal point was

reached, he died tanquam convivia satur, not without regret,

certainly, for he left many kind friends to whom his memory could

not but be dear.

 

APHORISMS OF THE PROFESSOR.

 

TO SERVE AS PROLEGOMENA TO HIS WORK AND ETERNAL BASIS TO THE

SCIENCE.

 

I. The universe would be nothing were it not for life and all that

lives must be fed.

 

II. Animals fill themselves; man eats. The man of mind alone knows

how to eat.

 

III. The destiny of nations depends on the manner in which they

are fed.

 

IV. Tell me what kind of food you eat, and I will tell you what

kind of man you are.

 

V. The Creator, when he obliges man to eat, invites him to do so

by appetite, and rewards him by pleasure.

 

VI. Gourmandise is an act of our judgment, in obedience to which,

we grant a preference to things which are agreeable, over those

which nave not that quality.

 

VII. The pleasure of the table belongs to all ages, to all

conditions, to all countries, and to all aeras; it mingles with

all other pleasures, and remains at last to console us for their

departure.

 

VIII. The table is the only place where one does not suffer, from

ennui during the first hour.

 

IX. The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness on

humanity, than the discovery of a new star.

 

X. Those persons who suffer from indigestion, or who become drunk,

are utterly ignorant of the true principles of eating and

drinking.

 

XI. The order of food is from the most substantial to the

lightest.

 

XII. The order of drinking is from the mildest to the most foamy

and perfumed.

 

XIII. To say that we should not change our drinks is a heresy; the

tongue becomes saturated, and after the third glass yields but an

obtuse sensation.

 

XIV. A dessert without cheese is like a beautiful woman who has

lost an eye.

 

XV. A cook may be taught, but a man who can roast, is born with

the faculty.

 

XVI. The most indispensable quality of a good cook is promptness.

It should also be that of the guests.

 

XVII. To wait too long for a dilatory guest, shows disrespect to

those who are punctual.

 

XVIII. He who receives friends and pays no attention to the repast

prepared for them, is not fit to have friends.

 

XIX. The mistress of the house should always be certain that the

coffee be excellent; the master that his liquors be of the first

quality.

 

XX. To invite a person to your house is to take charge of his

happiness as long as he be beneath your roof.

 

DIALOGUE between the author and his friend. (after the usual

salutations.)

 

FRIEND. As my wife and myself were at breakfast this morning, we

came to the conclusion that you should print, as soon as possible,

your Gastronomical Observations.

 

AUTHOR. What the wife wishes God wills. In six words that is the

charta of Paris. I, though, am not subject to that law, for I am

an unmarried man.

 

FRIEND. Bachelors, though, are as subject to the law as others

are, sometimes much to our injury. Single blessedness here,

however, will not save you. My wife says she has a right to order,

because you began your book at her country-house.

 

AUTHOR. You know, dear Doctor, how I defer to the ladies; more

than once you have found my submission to their orders. You also

were one of those who said I would make an excellent husband. I

will not, however, print my book.

 

FRIEND. Why not?

 

AUTHOR. Because being devoted, from the nature of my profession,

to serious studies, I fear that those who only know the title of

my book will think that I devote myself to trifles.

 

FRIEND. A panic terror! Thirty-six years of constant toil and

labor for the public, have made you a reputation. Besides, my wife

and I think every body would read you.

 

AUTHOR. Indeed!

 

FRIEND. The learned will read your book to ascertain what you have

to tell.

 

AUTHOR. Perhaps.

 

FRIEND. Women will read your book because they will see–

 

AUTHOR. My dear friend, I am old, I am attacked by a fit of

wisdom. Miserere mei.

 

FRIEND. Gourmands will read you because you do them justice, and

assign them their suitable rank in society.

 

AUTHOR. Well, that is true. It is strange that they have so long

been misunderstood; I look on the dear Gourmands with paternal

affection. They are so kind and their eyes are so bright.

 

FRIEND. Besides, did you not tell me such a book was needed in

every library.

 

AUTHOR. I did. It is the truth—and I would die sooner than deny

it.

 

FRIEND: Ah! you are convinced! You will come home with me?

 

AUTHOR. Not so. If there be flowers in the author’s path, there

are also thorns. The latter I leave to my heirs.

 

FRIEND. But then you disinherit your friends, acquaintances and

cotemporaries. Dare you do so?

 

AUTHOR. My heirs! my heirs! I have heard that shades of the

departed are always flattered by the praise of the living; this is

a state of beatitude I wish to reserve myself for the other world.

 

FRIEND. But are you sure that the praise you love so, will come to

the right address? Are you sure of the exactness of your heirs?

 

AUTHOR. I have no reason to think they will neglect a duty, in

consideration of which I have excused them the neglect of so many

others.

 

FRIEND. Will they—can they have for your book the paternal love,

the author’s attention without which every work always comes

awkwardly before the public?

 

AUTHOR. My manuscript will be corrected, written out distinctly,

and in all respects prepared; they will only have to print it.

 

FRIEND. And the chapter of events? Alas! such circumstances have

caused the loss of many precious books,—among which was that of

the famous Lecat, on the state of the body during sleep, the work

of his whole life.

 

AUTHOR. This doubtless was a great loss; but I anticipate no such

regrets for my book.

 

FRIEND. Believe me, your friends will have enough to do-to arrange

matters with the church, with the law, and with the medical

faculty, so that if they had the will, they would not have the

time to devote themselves to the various cares which precede,

accompany, and follow the publication of a book,—however small

the volume may be.

 

AUTHOR. But, my friend, what a title! Think of the ridicule!

 

FRIEND. The word Gastronomy makes every ear attentive; the subject

is a la mode, and those who laugh are as great votaries of the

science as any others are. This should satisfy you. Do you

remember too, that the greatest men have sometimes written books

on very trivial subjects,-Montesquieu, for example. [Footnote: M.

de Monjucla, known as the author of an excellent history of

mathematics, made a Dictionary of Gourmand Geography; he showed me

portions of it during my residence at Versailles. It is said that

M. Berryat-Professor of legal practice, has written a romance in

several volumes on the subject.]

 

AUTHOR. (Quickly.) On my word, that is true. He wrote the Temple

of Gnidus, and it would not be difficult to sustain that there is

more real utility in meditating on what is at once a necessity, a

pleasure, and an occupation every day of our lives, than in

telling what was done and said a thousand years ago by two mad

people, one of whom pursued through the woods of Greece the other,

who had not the least disposition to escape.

 

FRIEND. Ah! ha! Now you yield?

 

AUTHOR. Not I. The ass’s ear of the author only was shown; and

this recalls to my memory a scene of English comedy, which amused

me very much; it is, I think, in the play called the Natural

Daughter. You shall see, however, for yourself. [Footnote: The

reader will observe that my friend permits me to be familiar with

him, without taking advantage of it. The reason is, that the

difference between our ages is that of a father and a son, and

that, though now a man of great note and importance in every

respect, he would be completely overcome with grief if I changed

my bearing towards him.] The subject relates to the Quakers, that

sect which uses “thee” and “thou” to everybody, which dresses

simply, never go to war, never swear or act with passion, and who

never get angry. The hero of this piece is a young and handsome

Quaker, who appears on the scene in a brown coat, a broad-brimmed

hat, and slick hair! All this, though, does not keep him from

being in love.

 

A fool who is his rival, emboldened by his exterior, ridicules and

outrages him so that the young man gradually becoming excited, and

finally made furious, gives his assailant a severe thrashing.

 

Having done this he at once resumes his habitual deportment and

says, sadly, “Alas! the flesh is too mighty for the spirit.”

 

Thus say I, and after a brief hesitation resume my first opinion.

 

FRIEND. That is impossible. You have shown your ear; you are a

prize, and I will take you to my bookseller. I will tell you who

has gotten wind of your secret.

 

AUTHOR. Do not; for I would speak of yourself, and who knows what

I would say?

 

FRIEND. What could you say? Do not think you can intimidate me.

 

AUTHOR. I will not say that our native city [Footnote: Belley,

capital of Bugey, where high mountains, hills, vines, limpid

streams, cascades, dells, gardens of a hundred square leagues are

found, and where, BEFORE the revolution, the people were able to

control the other two orders.] is proud of having given you birth.

At the age of twenty-four you published an elementary book, which

from that day has become a classic. A deserved reputation has

attracted confidence to you. Your skill revives invalids; your

dexterity animates them; your sensibility consoles them. All know

this; but I will reveal to all Paris, to all