That cook to British palates is complete,
Whose favoury hand gives turns to common meat.
Though cooks are often men of pregnant wit,
Through nicenefs of their subject, few have writ.
In what an aukward found that ballad ran,
Which with this bluftering paragraph began:
There was a prince of Lubberland

A potentate of bigh command,
Ten thoufand bakers did attend him,
Ten thousand brewers did befriend him :
Thefe brought him kiffing-crufts and thofe
Brought him small-beer, before be rose.

The author raifes mountains foeming full,
But all the cry pr duces little vool:
So, if you fue a beggar for a house,
And have a verdict, what d'ye gain? A Louse!
Homer, more modeft, if we fearch his books,
Will fhew us that his heroes all were cooks;
How lov'd Patroclus with Achilles joins,
To quarter out the ox, and fpit the loins.
Oh could that poet live! could he rehearse
Thy journey, Lifter, in immortal verfe!

Mufe, fing the man that did to Paris go, That be might tafe their foups, and muforooms know! Oh, how would Homer praife their dancing dogs, Their ftinking cheese, and fricafce of frogs! He'd raife no fables, fing no flagrant lye, Of boys with custard chok'd at Newberry; But their whole courfes you'd entirely fee, How all their parts from firft to last agree.

If you all forts of perfons would engage, Suit well your eatables to every age.

The favourite child, t' at juft begins to prattle, And throws away his filver bells and rattle, Is very humourfome, and makes great clutter, Till he has windows on his bread and butter: He for repeated fupper-meat will cry, But won't tell mammy what he'd have, or why, The fmooth-fac'd youth, that has new guar

dians chofe,

From play-houfe fteps to fupper at the Rofe, Where he a main or two at random throws: Squandering of wealth, impatient of advice, His eating muft be little, coftly, nice.

}

Maturer age, to this delight grown strange, Each night frequents his club behind the 'Change, Expecting there frugality and health, And honour rifing from a fheriff's wealth: Unless he fome infurance dinner lacks, 'Tis very rarely he frequents Pontack's. But then old age, by ftill intruding years, Torments the feeble heart with anxious fears: Morofe, perverfe in humour, diffident,

norv,

The more he ftill abounds, the lefs content;
His larder and his kitchen too observes,
And left he fhould want hereafter, ftarves;
Thinks fcorn of all the prefent age can give,
And none thefe threefcore years knew how to live.
But now the cook muft pafs through all degrees,
And by his art difcordant tempers pleafe,
And minifter to health and to disease.

Far from the parlour have your kitchen plac'd,
Dainties may in their working be difgrac'd,
In private draw your poultry, clean your tripe,
And from your eels their flimy fubftance wipe.

Let cruel offices be done by night,
For they who like the thing abhor the fight.
Next, let difcretion moderate your eft,
And, when y u reat, three courfes be the mo
Let never fresh machines your paftry try,
Unless grandees or magiftrates are by:
Then you may put a dwarf into a rye.
Or, if you'd fright an alderman and mayer,
Within pafty lodge a living hare;
Then midit their gravet: furs fhall mirth arif,
And all the Guild pursue with joyful cries,

Crowd not your table: let your number be
Not more than feven, and never lefs than thre
'Tis the defert that graces all the feat,
For an ill end difparages the rest:
A thousand things well done, and one forget,
Defaces obligation by that blot.
Make your transparent fweet-meats truly nic,
With Indian fugar and Arabian spice:
And let your various creams encircled be
With fwelling fruit just ravish'd from the tree.
Let plates and dishes be from China brought,
With lively paint and earth transparent wroug
The feast now done, difcourfes are renew'd,
And witty arguments with mirth pursued.
The cheerful mafter, 'midft his jovial friends,
His glafs "to their best wishes" recommends
The grace-cup follows to his fovereign's health,
And to his country, " Plenty, peace, and wealth,”
Performing then the piety of grace,

Each man that pleases re-affumes his place;
While at his gate, from fuch abundant ftore,
He showers his godlike bleflings on the poor.

In days of old, our fathers went to war,
Expecting sturdy blows and hardy fare:
Their beef they often in their murrions ftew'd,
And in their basket-hilts their beverage brew
Some officer perhaps may give confent,
To a large cover'd pipkin in his tent,
Where every thing that every foldier got,
Fowl, bacon, cabbage, mutton, and what not,
Was all thrown into bank, and went to pot.
But, when our conquefts were extenfive grown,
And through the world our British worth was
known,

Wealth on commanders then flow'd in apace,
Their Champaign sparkled equal with their lot;
Quails, Beccofico's, Ortolans, were sent,
To grace the levee of a general's tent;
In their gilt plate all delicates were feen,
And what was earth before became a rich terrent.
When the young players once get to lilingia,
They fondly think that all the world's their

Prentices, parifh-clerks, and he&tors meet;
He that is drunk, or bullied, pays the treat.
Their talk is loofe; and o'er the bouncing ale
At conftables and juftices they rail;
Not thinking cuftard fuch a ferious thing,
That common-council-men 'twill thither bring;
Where many a man, at variance with his wife,
With feftening mead and cheefe-cake ends the
[diferarte,
Ev'n fquires come there, and, with their mean
Render the kitchen, which they fit in, workt.

ftrife.

Midwives demure, and chamber-maids most gay,
Foremen that pick the box, and come to play,
Here find their entertainment at the height,
In cream and codlings revelling with delight.
What these appr ve, the great men will diflike:
But here's the art, if you the palate strike;'
By management of common things fo well,
That what was thought the meanest shall excel;
While others ftrive in vain, all perfons own
Such dishes could be drefs'd by you alone.

When straite 'd in your time, and fervants few,
You rightly then conp fe an ambiguë;
Where first and fecond courfe, and your defert,
All in one fingle able have their part.
From fuch a vast confusion 'tis delight,
To find the jarring elements unite,
And raise a Bructure grateful to the fight.

Be not too far by old example led, With caution now we in their footsteps tread: The French our relish help, and well supply' The want of things too grofs by decency. Our fathers molt admir'd their fauces tweet, And often afk'd for fugar with heir meat; They buter'd currants on fat veal bestow'd, And run ps of beef with virgin-honey stew'd. Infipid tafte, old friend, to them who Paris know, Where rocombole, fhallot, and the rank garlic, grow.

Tom Bold did first begin the ftrolling mart, And drove ab ut his turnis in a cart; S metimes his wife he citizens would please, And from the fame machine fell pecks of peafe; Then pippins did in wheel-barrows abound, And oranges in whin:fey-boards went round: Befs Hoy first found it troublesome to hawl, And therefore plac'd her cherries on a stall; Her currants there and goofeberries were spread, With the enticing gold of gingerbread : But flounders, iprats, and cucun bers, were cried, And every found and every voice was tried. At laft the Law this hideous din fup, refs'd, And order'd that the Sunday should have reft; And that no nymph her nily food should fell, Except it were new milk or mackarei.

There is no difh but what our cooks have made, And merited a charter by their trade. [Spain, Not French kickshaws, or glines brought from Alone have found improvement from their brain; But pudding, brawn, and white-pots, own'd to be Th' effects or native ingenuity.

Our British fleet, which now commands the Might glorious wreaths of victory obtain, |main, Would they take time; would they with leifure work; [pork;

With care would falt their beef, and cure their Would boil their liquor well whene'er they brew, Their conqueft balf is to the victualler due

Because that thrift and abitinence are good, As many things if rightly understood: Old Crofs condemns all perfons to be fops, That can't regale themfelves with mutton-chops. He often for ftuft beef to Bedlam runs, And the clean rummer, as the pesthouse, shuns. Smetimes poor jack and onions are his dish, And then he faints thofe friars who flink of fish.

As for myfelf, I take him to abstain,
Who has good meat, with decency, though plain:
But, though my edge be not too nicely fet,
Yet I another's appetite may whet;

May teach him when to buy, when season's past," What's ftale, what choice, what plentiful, what wafte;

And lead him through the various maze of taste.
The fundamental principle of all

Is what ingenious cooks the relif call;
For, when the market fends in loads of food,
They all are taftelefs till that makes them good
Befides, 'tis no ignoble piece of care,
To know for whom it is you would prepare:
You'd please a friend, or reconcile a brother,
A tefty father, or a haughty mother;
Would mollify a judge, would cram a fquire,
Or elfe fome fmiles from court you may defire;
Or would, perhaps, fome hafty supper give,
to fhew the fplendid ftate in which you live.
Pursuant to that intereft you propose,

Muft all your wine and all your meat be chose.
I et men and manners every difh adapt:
Who'd force his pepper where his guests are clapt
A cauldron of fat beef and ftoop of ale
On the huzzaing mob fhall more prevail,
Than if you give them with the nicest art
Ragouts of peacocks brains, or filbert-tart.

The French by foups and baut-gouts glory raise And their defires all terminate in praife. The thrifty maxim of the weary Dutch Is, to fave all the money they can touch: "Hans," cries the father, fee a pin lies there; "A pin a day will fetch a groat a-year.

To your five farthings join three farthinge

"And they, if added, make your halfpence four!" Thus may your stock by management increase, Your wars fhall gain you more than Britain's peace.

Where love of wealth and rufty coin prevail,
What hopes of fugar'd cakes or butter'd ale?

Cooks garnifh out fome tables, fome they fill,
Or in a prudent mixture fhew their skill:
Clog not your conftant meals; for dishes few
Increase the appetite, when choice and new.
Ev'n they, who will extravagance profess,
Have fil an inward hatred for excels:
Meat, forc'd too much, untouch'd at table lies,
Few care for carning trifles in disguise,
Or that fantastic difh fome call furprise.
When pleafures to the eye and palate meet,
That cook has render'd his great work completes
His glory far, like furloin knighthood, flies;
Immortal made, as Kit-cat by his pyes.

Good-nature muft fome failings overlook,
Not wilfulness but errors of the cook.

A ftring won't always give the found defign'd
By the mufician's touch and heavenly mind:
Nor will an arrow from the Parthian bow
Still to the deftin'd point directly go.
Perhaps no falt is thrown about the dish,
Or no fried parfley fcatter'd on the fish ;
Shall I in paffion from my dinner fly,
And hopes of pardon to my cook deny,

For things which carele finess might overfee,
And all mankind commit as well as he?
I with compaffion once may overlook
A skewer fent to table by my cook :
But think not therefore tamely I'll permit
That he should daily the fame fault permit
For fear the rafcal fend me up the spit !

Poor Roger Fowler had a generous mind,
Nor would fubmit to have his hand confin'd,
But aim'd at all, yet never could excel
In any thing but ftuffing of his veal:

But, when that difh was in perfection seen,
And that alone would it not move your fpleen!
'I'is true, in a long work, foft flumbers creep,
And gently fink the artift into fleep.
Ev'n Lamb himself, at the moft folemn feaft,
Might have fome chargers not exactly dreft.

Tables fhould be like pictures to the fight, Some dishes caft in fhade, fome spread in light, Some at a distance brighten, fome near hand, Where cafe may all their delicace command: Some should be mov'd when broken; others laft Through the whole treat, incentive to the taste.

Locket, by many labours feeble grown, Up from the kitchen call'd his eldest fon : "Though wife thyfeif," fays he, "though taught

66 by me,

"Yet fix this fentence in thy memory: "There are fome certain things that don't excel, "And yet we say are tolerably well: "There's many worthy men a lawyer prize, "Whom they diftinguifh as of middle size, "For pleading well at bar, or turning books; "But this is not, my fon, the fate of cooks, "From whose myfterious art true pleasures fprings "To fall of garter, and to throne of kings. "A fimple fcene, a difobliging fong, "Which no way to the main defign belong, "Or were they abfent never would be mifs'd, "Have made a well wrought comedy be hifs'd: "So in a feaft no intermediate fault

"Will be allow'd; but, if not best, 'tis naught."

He that of feeble nerves and joints complains, From nine pins, coits, and from trap-ball, abftains;

Cudgels avoids, and fhuns the wrestling place,
Left vinegar refound his loud difgrace.
But every one to cookery pretends;

Nor maid nor mistrefs e'er confult their friends.
But, Sir, if you would roast a pig, be free:
Why not with Brawn, with Locket, or with me?
We'll fee when 'tis enough, when both eyes out,
Or if it wants the nice concluding bout;
But, if it lies too long, the crackling's pall'd,
Not by the drudging box to be recall'd.

Our Cambrian fathers, fparing in their food.
First boil'd their hunted goats on bars of wood.
Sharp hunger was their feafoning, or they took
Such falt as iffued from the native rock.
Their fallading was never far to seek,
The poignant water-grafs, or favoury leek;
Until the British bards adorn'd this isle,

And taught them how to roaft, and how to boil:
Then Talieffin rofe, and sweetly ftrung
His British harp, inftructing whilst he fung:

Taught them that honefty they still poflefs,
Their truth, their open heart, their model dre
Duty to kindred, conftancy to friends,
And inward worth, which always recommends;
Contempt of wealth and pleasure, to appear
To all mankind with hofpitable cheer.
In after ages, Arthur and his knights
At his round table to record their fights,
Cities craz'd, encampments forc'd in field,
Monsters fubdued, and hideous tyrants quell'd
Infpir'd that Cambrian foul which ne'er an
yield.

Then Guy, the pride of Warwick, truly great,
To future heroes due example fet,
By his capacious cauldron made appear,
From whence the spirits rise, and strength of wa
The prefent age, to gallantry inclin'd,
Is pleas'd with vaft improvements of the mind.
He that of honour, wit, and mirth, partakes,
May be a fit companion o'er beef-steaks;
His name may be to future times enroll'd
In Eftcourt's book", whofe gridiron's fram'd d
gold.

Scorn not these lines, defign'd to let you know
Profits that from a well-plac'd table flow.

'Tis a fage queftion, if the art of cooks Is lodg'd by nature, or attain'd by books: That man will never frame a noble treat, Whofe whole dependence lies in fome receipt: Then by pure nature every thing is spoil'd, She knows no more than stew'd, bak'd, roaft, al boil'd.

When art and nature join, th' effect will be
Some nice ragout, or charming fricafe.

The lad that would his genius fo advance,
That on the rope he might fecurely dance,
From tender years enures himself to pains,
To Summer's parching heat, and Winter's rains,
And from the fire of wine and love abftains;
No artist can his hautboy's ftops command,
Unless fome skilful mafter form his hand:
But gentry take their cooks though never tried
It seems no more to them than up and ride.
Preferments granted thus fhew him a fool,
That dreads a parent's check, or rods at fchool.

Ox-cheek when hot, and wardens bak'd, fone y But 'tis with an intention men thould buy. Others abound with fuch a plenteous ftare, That, if you'll let them treat, they'll afk no more And 'tis the vaft ambition of their foul, To fee their port admir'd, and table fall. But then, amidst that cringing fawning crowd, Who talk fo very much, and laugh fo loud, Who with fuch grace his honour's actions praife, How well he fences, dances, fings, and plays; Tell him his livery's rich, his chariot's fine, How choice his meat, and delicate his wine;

That is," be admitted a member of The Beaf herk Club "Richard Eftcourt, who was a Player and Dra matic Writer, is celebrated in the Spectator, as poffed a (prightly wit, and an eafy and natural politenus company was much coveted by the great, on acc his qualifications as a boon companion. When the famos Beei-teak Club was firft inftitated, he had the one of of Providore affigned him; and, as a mark of dificis, ufed to wear a small gridiron of gold hung about bis u with a green filk ribband. He died in the year 1713

rrounded thus, how should the youth defery me happiness of friendship from a lie? iends act with cautious temper when fincere; at flattering impudence is void of care: at an Irish funeral appears

train of drabs with mercenary tears; ho, wringing oft their hands, with hideous moan, how not his name for whom they feem to groan; hile real grief with filent steps proceeds, id love unfeign'd with inward paffion bleeds. ra fate of wealth: Were lords as butchers wife, ey from their meat would banish all the flies! e Perfian kings, with wine and maffy bowl, rch'd to the dark receffes of the foul; at, fo laid open, no one might pretend, lefs a man of worth, to be their friend. now the guests their patrons undermine; d flander them, for giving them their wine. at men have dearly thus companions bought:" lefs by thefe inftructions they'll be taught, y spread the net, and will themfelves be caught.

bes

Vere Horace, that great mafter, now alive, eaft with wit and judgment he'd contrive. thus Suppofing that you would rehearse abour'd work, and every difh a verfe;

'd fay," Mend this, and t'other line, and this." fter trial it were still amifs,

d bid you give it a new turn of face, fet fome difh more curious in its place. ou perfift, he would not strive to move affion fo delightful as felf-love.

Ve fhould fubmit our treats to critics' view, 1 every prudent cook fhould read Boffu. gment provides the meat in feafon fit, ich by the genius dreft, its fauce is wit. d beef for men. Pudding for youth and age, ne up to the decorum of the stage. : critic ftrikes out all that is not just, 'tis ev'n fo the butler chips his crust. ts and pastry-cooks will be the fame,

e both of them their images muft frame. mæras from the poet's fancies flow:

cook contrives his fhapes in real dough. When truth commands, there's no man can offend,

it with a modeft love corrects his friend, ugh 'tis in toafting bread, or buttering pease, the reproof has temper, kindness, ease. why fhould we reprove when faults are fmall? aufe 'tis better to have none at all. ere's often weight in things that seem the leaft, d our most trifling follies raife the jest. Tis by his cleanliness a cook must please; kitchen will aduit of no disease. e fowler and the huntsman both may ru idft that dirt which he must nicely fhun. pedocles, a fage of old, would raise name immortal by unusual ways; laft his fancies grew fo very odd, thought by roafting to be made a god. ough fat, he leapt with his unwieldy stuff Etna's flames, fo to have fire enough. ere my cook fat, and I a ftander-by, rather than himself his fifh fhould fry, VOL. VI.

There are fome perfons fo exceffive rude,
That to your private table they'll intrude.
In vain you fly, in vain pretend to fail ;
Turn like a fox, they'll catch you at the laft.
You muft, fince bars and doors are no defence,
Ev'n quit your houfe as in a peftilence.
Be quick, nay very quick, or he'll approach,
And, as you're fcampering, ftop you in your coach.
Then think of all your fins, and you will fee
How right your guilt and punishment agree:
Perhaps no tender pity could prevail,

But you would throw fome debtor into goal.
Now mark th' effect of this prevailing curfe,
You are detain'd by fomething that is worie.

Were it in my election, I should choose,
To meet a revenous wolf or bear got loofe.
He'll eat and talk, and talking ftill will eat,
No quarter from the the parafite you'll get;
But, like a leech well fix'd, he'll fuck what's good,
And never part till fatisfied with blood.

DEAR SIR,

LETTER IX. To Mr.

I MUST communicate my happiness to you, because you are fo much my friend as to rejoice at it. I fome days ago met with an old acquaintance, a curious perfon, of whom I enquired if he had feen the book concerning Soups and Sauces. He told me he had; but that he had but a very flight view of it, the perfon who was mafter of it not being willing to part with to valuable a rarity out of his clofet. I defired him to give me what account he could of it. He fays, that it is a very handíome octavo; for, ever fince the days of Ogilby, good paper, and good print, and fine cuts, make a book become ingenious, and brighten up an author ftrangely; that there is a copious index; and at the end a caralogue of all the doctor's works, concerning cockles, English beetles, fnails, fpiders that get up into the air and throw us down cobwebs, a monster vomited up by a baker, and fuch like; which, if carefully perufed, would wonderfully improve us. There is, it feems, no manufcript of it in England, nor any other country that can be heard of; fo that this impreffion is from one of Humelbergius, who, as my friend fays, he does not believe contrived it himself, because the things are fo very much out of the way, that it is not probable any learned man would fet himself seriously to work to invent them. He tells me of this ingenious remark made by the editor "That, whatever manufcripts there might "have been, they must have been extremely vi"cious and corrupt, as being written out by the "cooks themselves, or fome of their friends or "fervants, who are not always the moft accu"rate." And then, as my friend obferved, if the cook had used it much, it might be fullied; the cook, perhaps, not always licking his fingers when he had occafion for it. I fhould think it no improvident matter for the ftate to order a select

Uu