The Physiology of Taste (62 page)

With these words he disappeared.

It was then the moment to go into action; and we attacked with an energy which bore out the three aggravating circumstances so clearly suggested by the cellarer. But what could mere puny sons of Adam do with a feast which seemed prepared for the inhabitants of Sirius
⁵⁴
itself? Our efforts were futile; although we crammed ourselves to the bursting point, we left no more than imperceptible traces of our passage.

Then, well fortified until dinner time, we broke up, and I stretched out on a good bed, to doze until time for Mass, much like the hero of Rocroy and many others, who have slumbered peacefully until the moment to do battle.

I was awakened by a husky brother who almost shook my arm off, and I ran toward the church, where I found everyone at his post.

At the offertory we executed a symphony; at the elevation we sang a motet; we finished with a quartet for wind instruments. And in spite of all the jokes about music played by amateurs, my respect for truth obliges me to confess that we did a very good job indeed.

I shall remark, in this connection, that those men who are never satisfied with anything are almost always ignorant people who criticize sharply in the hope that their daring will make them seem to know many things which in reality they have not had the capacity to learn.

We accepted with benign pleasure, then, the praises which everyone showered unhesitatingly upon us, and after having
received the thanks of the abbot, we went once more to the dining hall.

The dinner was served much in the style of the fifteenth century, with few side dishes and fewer superfluities; but an excellent choice of meats, and of simple hearty stews, freshly prepared and perfectly cooked, and above all of vegetables of a flavor quite unknown in the lowlands, killed any desire there might be for something not seen upon the table.

It can be gauged, moreover, what abundance reigned in this good place, by the fact that the second course offered no less than fourteen platters of roasted meats.

The dessert was especially distinguished in that it was made up in part of fruits which do not grow at such heights, and which had been brought up from the lower valleys; and the gardens of Machuraz and the Morflent, and other districts smiled on by the fiery sun god, had contributed their shares.

There was no lack of liqueurs, of course; but it was the coffee that deserves special mention.

It was limpid, odorous, and marvelously hot; the best thing about it, however, was that it was not served in those emasculated little vases which are basely called
cups
along the banks of the Seine, but in fine deep bowls into which the holy fathers plunged their full lips deeply, and then sucked up the strengthening liquid with a noise which would have done honor to two sperm whales blowing before a storm.

After the dinner we went to vespers, and between the psalms sang some anthems which I had composed expressly for that day. They were the kind of music that was common then, and I shall say nothing one way or the other about them, for fear of being either repressed by my modesty or carried away by paternal affection.

The official celebrations having ended thus, visitors from the neighborhood began to turn homeward, or to group themselves for various games and contests.

As for myself, I chose to take a walk, and having collected a few friends, I led the way across that soft thick mountain grass, which is truly worth any carpet from the Savonnerie, and
breathed the pure air of those high meadows, which refreshes a man’s soul and disposes his imagination to quiet thought and to romanticism.
*

It was late when we returned. The abbot came up to me to wish me a good and pleasant night. “I am going to my own apartment,” he told me, “and will leave the rest of the evening to you. It is not that I feel that my presence might act as a damper to our good fathers, but I want them to know clearly that they are in complete freedom tonight. We do not celebrate the feast of Saint-Bernard every day of the year; tomorrow we go back to our accustomed duties:
cras iterabimus aequor.”

And it is true that after the departure of the abbot there was more movement in the assemblage, which became much noisier, and busy with those little jokes which are peculiar to cloisters, the kind that are almost meaningless and yet make everyone laugh without knowing why.

Toward nine o’clock supper was served, a meal skilfully and daintily prepared and several centuries removed in spirit from the noonday dinner.

We fell to with renewed appetites, and chattered and laughed and sang table songs; and one of the fathers read us some verses of his own composition, which were truly not too bad for having sprung from a shaveling.

Toward the end of the evening, someone lifted his voice to shout, “Father Cellarer, where then is that speciality of yours?” “True enough,” the reverend man replied. “I’m not cellarer for nothing!”

He left for a moment, and soon came back accompanied by three serving men, the first of whom carried toast spread with excellent butter, while the other two were laden with a table bearing a huge tub of blazing brandy and sugar; it was much like our punch, which was unknown at that time.
⁵⁵

The new arrivals were hailed with noisy delight; we ate the toast, drank the heated brandy, and when the clock of the abbey
struck twelve went each to his bed, to revel in the pleasures of a slumber justly desired, and justly earned as well, by the labors of the day.

N.B
. The father cellarer so often mentioned in this truly historical narration, having become an old man, was listening to a conversation about a newly appointed abbot who arrived from Paris, and whose reputation for severity was dreaded.

“I have no worries about him in that respect,” said the reverend father. “Let him be as disagreeable as he wants to, and still he’ll never have the courage to take from an old man either his own corner by the hearth or his keys to the cellar.”

One time, mounted on my good mare
la Joie
, I rode over the pleasant slopes of the Jura.

It was during the worst days of the Revolution, and I was on my way to Dôle, to request from Representative Prot a safe-conduct paper which would keep me from going first to prison and probably from there to the scaffold.

On my arrival at an inn in the little town or village of Montsous-Vaudrey, about eleven in the morning, I first saw to it that my mount was well looked after, and then, going through the kitchen, was struck by such a sight as no traveler can see without delight.

Before a lively sparkling fire turned a spit, handsomely strung with quail, truly king-like quail, and those little railbirds with green claws which are always so plump.
⁵⁶
This superlative game was emitting its final delicious drops upon an immense slab of toast, whose very contours announced the fine hand of a hunter-cook; and close beside it, already prepared, could be seen one of those extremely plump young hares which Parisians do not know exist, and whose odor would be incense enough for a cathedral.

“Good!” said I to myself, revived by this fine sight. “Providence has not completely deserted me after all. Let’s pluck this flower as we go by; there’s always time left for us to die.”
⁵⁷

Then, addressing myself to the innkeeper, who all during my examination had walked up and down the kitchen with his hands
behind his gigantic back, whistling, I said: “My dear chap, what are you planning to give me that is really good, for my dinner?” “Nothing that is not really good, sir; good bouilli, good potato soup, good shoulder of mutton, and good beans.”

At this unexpected reply a shudder of disappointment ran through my whole frame; it is well-known that I never eat bouilli, since it is nothing but meat drained of its juices; potatoes and beans are obesigenous;
⁵⁸
I did not feel that my teeth were steely enough to rend and tear the mutton. In other words, this menu was made especially to depress me, and once more all my miseries closed in upon me.

The innkeeper watched me slyly, and seemed to guess the reason for my despair …

“And precisely for whom are you holding back all this fine game?” I asked him with an air of utter exasperation.

“Alas, Sir,” he replied in a sympathetic way, “I have no rights to it. It all belongs to some legal gentlemen who have been here for ten days now, giving their professional advice on an affair concerning a very rich lady; they finished their task yesterday, and are having a party to celebrate the happy event, or as we say here, to break over.”

“Sir,” I said to him after pondering for a few seconds, “do me the kindness to say to these gentlemen that an agreeable table companion asks, as a great favor, to be admitted to dinner with them, that he will assume his share of the expenses, and that above all he will be deeply indebted to them.” I spoke: he left, and he did not return.

But soon after I saw a little fat man, fresh-cheeked, chubby, thickset and sprightly, come in and prowl about the kitchen, shift a few chairs, lift the lid of a casserole, and then disappear.

“Fine!” I said to myself. “That was the brother tyler
⁵⁹
of the meeting, come to look me over!” And I began to hope once more, for experience had already taught me that my outer presence was not repulsive.
⁶⁰

Nonetheless my heart pounded as if I were a candidate being passed on by a secret jury, when the innkeeper reappeared and announced to me that the gentlemen were highly flattered by my proposal, and awaited only my coming to sit down at table.

I bounded from the room kicking my heels, received the most complimentary of welcomes, and within a few minutes had taken root …

What a good dinner! I shall not go into detail; but I owe honorable mention to a chicken fricassée of great art, such as can only be found in the provinces, and so richly graced with truffles that there were enough to have revived old Tithonus
⁶¹
himself.

The roast has already been mentioned: it tasted as good as it looked, cooked to perfection, and the trouble I had experienced in getting anywhere near it added still more to its savor.

The dessert was composed of a vanilla cream, choice cheese, and excellent fruits. We bathed all this with a light rose-colored wine, and later a Hermitage, and still later a
vin de paille
⁶²
as soft as it was generous: the whole was crowned with unusually good coffee concocted by the sprightly tyler, who also saw to it that we did not lack for certain liqueurs from Verdun, which he abstracted from a kind of tabernacle of which he had the key.

Not only was the dinner delicious but it was very gay as well.

After having discussed with discretion the current happenings, the gentlemen fell to joking with one another in a way that let me divine something of their histories; they spoke little of the business which had brought them together; some good stories were told, some songs sung; I joined in with a few unpublished verses, and even made up one on the spot, which was according to custom loudly applauded. Here it is:

TO BE SUNG TO
Le Maréchal ferrant:

Qu’il est doux pour les voyageurs
De trouver d’aimables buveurs:
C’est une vraie
*
béatitude.
Entouré d’aussi bons enfants,
Ma foi je passerai céans
Libre de toute inquiétude,

    Quatre jours,

    Quinze jours,

    Trente jours,
    Une année,

Et bénirais ma destinée.
⁶³

If I present this verse, it is not because I think it excellent: I have written many better, thanks be to Heaven, and would have rewritten this one if I had wished to; but I preferred to leave it with its impromptu tone, so that the reader might agree with me that any man with a troop of Revolutionists at his heels who could still feel so carefree must indeed have had, and I insist upon it, the head and the heart of a true Frenchman.

We had been at table for a good four hours, and began to discuss the best way to finish off the evening: we might take a long walk to help digestion, and then on coming back to the inn play cards while we waited for supper, which would consist of a platter of trout which were being saved for us, and the still-tempting remains of our dinner.

But to all these propositions I was forced to reply with a refusal: the sun nearing the horizon warned me that I must leave. The gentlemen insisted to the very limits of politeness that I remain, and stopped only when I assured them that I was not traveling solely for my own pleasure.

My readers will already have guessed that they would not hear of my paying my share: thus it was that without any tactless questions they insisted on watching me mount my horse, and we parted with an exchange of the most amicable farewells.

If any one of those men who gave me such a heart-warming welcome still exists, and my book happens to fall into his hands, I want him to know that thirty years after that day this chapter was written with the liveliest gratitude.

One bit of luck always follows another, and my trip succeeded in a way that I had not dared hope for.

It is true that I found Representative Prot strongly prejudiced against me: he stared at me with a sinister air, and I was convinced that he was about to have me arrested; however, I got by with nothing more than my fears, and after a few explanations it seemed to me that his face softened a little.

I am not one of those people whom fright turns vengeful, and I truly believe that this was not a bad man; but he had limited
capacity for his position and did not know what to do with the enormous power which had been entrusted to him: he was a child, armed with the club of Hercules.

M. Amondru, whose name I mention here with much pleasure, had in truth some difficulty in making him accept an invitation to a supper party where it was clearly said that I too would be present; he came, finally, and received me in a manner which was far from reassuring.

I was somewhat less churlishly welcomed by Madame Prot, to whom I went to present myself. The circumstances under which I arrived gave her at least some curiosity about me.