East Indies; and he gives a large account how, at the court of an Indian prince, he was admired for his neatness in that particular, and his care in wiping that and his knife before he returned them to their respective repositories. I could wish Dr. Wotton, in the next edition of his Modern Learning, would show us how much we are improved since Dr. Heylin's time, and tell us the original of ivory knives, with which young heirs are suffered to mangle their own pudding; as likewise of silver and gold knives, brought in with the dessert for carving of jellies and orange-butter; and the indispensable necessity of a silver knife at the side-board, to mingle sallads with, as is with great learning made out in a treatise called Acetaria, concerning dressing of sallads. A noble work! But I transgress

And yet, pardon me, good doctor, I had almost forgot a thing that I would not have done for the world, it is so remarkable. I think I may be positive, from this verse of Juvenal, where he speaks of the Egyptians,

Porrum et cepe nefas violare, et frangere morsu, that it was "sacrilege to chop a leek, or bite an onion." Nay, I believe, that it amounts to a demonstration, that Pharaoh Necho could have no true lenten porridge, nor any carrier's sauce to his mutton; the true receipt of making which sauce I have from an ancient MS. remaining at the Bullinn in Bishopsgate-sreet, which runs thus:

"Take seven spoonfuls of spring-water; slice two onions of moderate size into a large saucer, and put in as much salt as you can hold at thrice betwixt your fore-finger and thumb, if large, and serve it up." Probatum est.

HOBSON, carrier to the university of Cambridge.

The effigies of that worthy person remains still at that inn; and I dare say, not only Hobson, but old Birch, and many others of that musical and delightful profession, would rather have been labourers at the pyramids with that regale, than to have reigned at Memphis, and have been debarred of it. I break off abruptly. Believe me an admirer of your worth, and a follower of your methods towards the increase of learning, and more especially your, &c.

If Bellvill can his generous soul confine To a small room, few dishes, and some wine, I shall expect my happiness at nine. Two bottles of smooth Palm, or Anjou white, Shall give a welcome, and prepare delight; Then for the Bourdeaux you may freely ask; But the Champaigne is to each man his flask. I tell you with what force I keep the field; And, if you can exceed it, speak; I'll yield. The snow-white damask ensigns are display'd, And glittering salvers on the side-board laid. Thus we'll disperse all busy thoughts and cares, The general's counsels, and the statesman's fears: Nor shall sleep reign in that precedent night, Whose joyful hours lead on the glorious light, Sacred to British worth in Blenheim's fight. The blessings of good-fortune seem refus'd, Unless sometimes with generous freedom us'd. 'Tis madness, not frugality, prepares A vast excess of wealth for squandering heirs. Must I of neither wine nor mirth partake, Lest the censorious world should call me rake? Who, unacquainted with the generous wine, E'er spoke bold truths, or fram'd a great design? That makes us fancy every face has charms; That gives us courage, and then finds us arms; Sees care disburthen'd, and each tongue employ'd, The poor grown rich, and every wish enjoy'd.

This I'll perform, and promise you shall see A cleanliness from affectation free : No noise, no hurry, when the meat's set on, Or, when the dish is chang'd, the servants gone: For all things ready, nothing more to fetch, Whate'er you want is in the master's reach. Then for the company, I'll see it chose; Their emblematic signal is the rose. If you of Freeman's raillery approve, Of Cotton's laugh, and Winner's tales of love, And Bellair's charming voice may be allow'd; What can you hope for better from a crowd? But I shall not prescribe. Consult your ease, Write back your men, and number, as you please: Try your back-stairs, and let the lobby wait: A stratagem in war is no deceit.

I am, sir, yours, &c.

SIR,

LETTER IV. To Mr.

I AM now very seriously employed in a work that, I hope, may be useful to the public, which is a poem of the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, inscribed to Dr. Lister, as hoping it may be in time read as a preliminary to his works. But I have not vanity enough to think it will live so long. I have in the mean time sent you an imitation of Horace's invitation of Torquatus to supper, which is the fifth epistle of his first book. Perhaps you will find so many faults in this, that you may save me the trouble of my other proposal; but, however, take it as it is:

LETTER V. To Mr.

I HERE send you what I promised, A Discourse of Cookery, after the method which Horace has taken in his Art of Poetry, which I have all along kept in my view; for Horace certainly is an author to be imitated in the delivery of precepts for any art or science. He is indeed severe upon OUR sort of learning in some of his satires; but even there he instructs, as in the fourth satire of the second book, ver. 13.

Longa quibus facies ovis erit, illa memento,
Ut succi melioris, et ut magis alba rotundis,
Ponere: namque marem cohibent callosa vitellum.

Choose eggs oblong; remember they'll be found Of sweeter taste, and whiter than the round;

The firmness of that shell includes the male.

I am much of his opinion, and could only wish that | the world was thoroughly informed of two other truths concerning eggs. One is, how incomparably better roasted eggs are than boiled; the other, never to eat any butter with eggs in the shell. You cannot imagine how much more you will have of their flavour, and how much easier they will sit upon your stomach. The worthy person who recommended it to me made many proselytes; and I have the vanity to think, that I have not been altogether unsuccessful.

I have in this poem used a plain, easy, familiar style, as most fit for precept; neither have I been too exact an imitator of Horace, as he himself directs. I have not consulted any of his translators; neither Mr. Oldham, whose copiousness runs into paraphrase; nor Ben Jonson, who is admirable for his close following of the original; nor yet the lord Roscommon, so excellent for the beauty of his language, and his penetration into the very design and soul of that author. I considered, that I went upon a new undertaking; and though I do not value myself upon it so much as Lucretius did, yet I dare say it is more innocent and inoffensive. Sometimes, when Horace's rules come too thick and sententious, I have so far taken liberty as to pass over some of them; for I consider the nature and temper of cooks, who are not of the most patient disposition, as their under-servants too often experience. I wish I might prevail with them to moderate their passions, which will be the greater conquest, seeing a continual heat is added to their native fire.

Amidst the variety of directions that Horace gives us in his Art of Poetry, which is one of the most accurate pieces that he or any other author has written, there is a secret connection in reality, though he doth not express it too plainly; and therefore this imitation of it has many breaks in it. If such as shall condescend to read this poem would at the same time consult Horace's original Latin, or some of the aforementioned translators, they would find at least this benefit, that they would recollect those excellent instructions which he delivers to us in such elegant language.

I could wish the master and wardens of the cooks' company would order this poem to be read with due consideration; for it is not lightly to be run over, seeing it contains many useful instructions for human life. It is true, that some of these rules may seem more principally to respect the steward, clerk of the kitchen, caterer, or perhaps the butler. But the cook being the principal person, without whom all the rest will be little regarded, they are directed to him; and the work being designed for the universal good, it will accomplish some part of its intent, if those sort of people will improve by it.

It may happen, in this as in all works of art, that there may be some terms not obvious to common readers; but they are not many. The reader may not have a just idea of a swoled mutton, which is a sheep roasted in its wool, to save the labour of flaying. Bacon and filbert-tarts are something unusual; but, since sprout-tarts and pistachiotarts are much the same thing, and to be seen in Dr. Salmon's Family Dictionary, those persons who have a desire for them may easily find the way to make them. As for grout, it is an old Danish dish; and it is claimed as an honour to the ancient

family of Leigh, to carry a dish of it up to the coronation. A dwarf-pye was prepared for king James the First, when Jeffry, his dwarf, rose out of one armed with a sword and buckler; and is so recorded in history, that there are few but know it. Though marmated fish, hippocraes, and ambigues, are known to all that deal in cookery; yet terrenes are not so usual, being a silver vessel filled with the most costly dainties, after the manner of an oglio. A surprise is likewise a dish not so very common; which, promising little from its first appearance, when open abounds with all sorts of variety; which I cannot better resemble than to the fifth act of one of our modern comedies. Lest Monteth, Vinegar, Taliessin, and Bossu, should be taken for dishes of rarities; it may be known, that Monteth was a gentleman with a scalloped coat, that Vinegar keeps the ring at Lincoln's-inn-fields, Taliessin was one of the most ancient bards amongst the Britons, and Bossu one of the most certain instructors in criticism that this latter age has produced.

I hope it will not be taken ill by the wits, that 1 call my cooks by the title of ingenious; for I cannot imagine why cooks may not be as well read as any other persons. I am sure their apprentices, of late years, have had very great opportunities of improvement; and men of the first pretences to literature have been very liberal, and sent in their contributions very largely. They have been very serviceable both to spit and oven; and for these twelve months past, whilst Dr. Wotton with his Modern Learning, was defending pye-crust from scorching, his dear friend, Dr. Bentley, with his Phalaris, has been singing of capons. Not that this was occasioned by any superfluity or tediousness of their writings, or mutual commendations; but it was found out by some worthy patriots, to make the labours of the two doctors, as far as possible, to become useful to the public.

Indeed, cookery bas an influence upon men's actions even in the highest stations of human life. The great philosopher Pythagoras, in his Golden Verses, shows himself to be extremely nice in eating, when he makes it one of his chief principles of morality to abstain from beans. The noblest foundations of honour, justice, and integrity, were found to lie hid in turnips; as appears in that great dictator, Cincinnatus, who went from the plough to the command of the Roman army; and, having brought home victory, retired to his cottage: for, when the Samnite ambassadors came thither to him with a large bribe, and found him dressing turnips for his repast, they immediately returned with this seutence, "That it was impossible to prevail upon him that could be contented with such a supper." In short, there are no honorary appellations but what may be made use of to cooks; for I find throughout the whole race of Charlemaigne, that the great cook of the palace was one of the prime ministers of state, and conductor of armies: so true is that maxim of Paulus Æmilius, after his glorious expedition into Greece, when he was to entertain the Roman people, "that there was equal skill required to bring an army into the field, and to set forth a magnificent entertainment; since the one was as far as possible to annoy your enemy, and the other to pleasure your friend." In short, as for all persons that have not a due regard for the learned, industrious,

moral, upright, and warlike profession of cookery, may they live as the ancient inhabitants of Puerte Ventura, one of the Canary Islands, where, they being so barbarous as to make the most contemptible person to be their butcher, they had likewise their meat served up raw, because they had no fire to dress it; and I take this to be a condition bad enough of all conscience!

As this small essay finds acceptance, I shall be encouraged to pursue a great design I have in hand, of publishing a Bibliotheca Culinaria, or the Cook's Complete Library, which shall begin with a translation, or at least an epitome, of Athenæus, who treats of all things belonging to a Grecian feast. He shall be published, with all his comments, useful glasses, and inderes, of a vast copiousness, with cuts of the basting-ladles, dripping-pans, and drudgingbores, &c. lately dug up at Rome, out of an old subterranean skullery. I design to have all authors in all languages upon that subject; therefore pray consult what oriental manuscripts you have. I remember Erpenius, in his notes upon Locman's Fables (whom I take to be the same person with Æsop), gives us an admirable receipt for making the sour milk, that is, the bonny clabber, of the Arabians. I should be glad to know how Mahomet used to have his shoulder of mutton dressed. I have heard he was a great lover of that joint; and that a maid of an inn poisoned him with one, saying, "If he is a prophet, he will discover it; if he is an impostor, no matter what becomes of him." I shail have occasion for the assistance of all my friends in this great work. I some posts ago desired a friend to inquire what manuscripts Sol. Harding, a famous cook, may have left behind him at Oxford. He says, he finds among his executors several admirable bills of fare for Aristotle suppers, and entertainments of country strangers, with certain prices, according to their several seasons. He says, some pages have large black crosses drawn over them; but for the greater part the books are fair and legible.

Sir, I would beg you to search Cooks' Hall, what manuscripts they may have in their archives. See what in Guildhall: what account of custard in the sword-bearer's office: how many tun he, a common cryer, or a common hunt, may eat in their life-time. But I transgress the bounds of a letter, and have strayed from my subject, which should have been, to beg you to read the following lines, when you are inclined to be most favourable to your friend; for else they will never be able to endure your just censure. I rely upon your goodnature; and I am

DEAR SIR,

Your most obliged, &c.

LETTER VI. To Mr.

I HAVE reflected upon the discourse I had with you the other day, and, upon serious consideration, find, that the true understanding of the whole Art of Cookery will be useful to all persons that pretend to the belles lettres, and especially to poets.

I do not find it proceeds from any camnity of the cooks, but it is rather the fault of their masters,

that poets are not so well acquainted with good eating, as otherwise they might be, if oftener invited. However, even in Mr. D'Urfey's presence, this I would be bound to say, "That a good dinner is brother to a good poem:" only it is something more substantial, and, between two and three a clock, more agreeable.

I have known a supper make the most diverting part of a comedy. Mr. Betterton, in The Libertine, has set very gravely with the leg of a chicken: but I have seen Jacomo very merry, and eat very heartily of ease and buttered eggs, under the table. The host, in The Villain3, who carries tables, stools, furniture, and provisions, all about him, gives great content to the spectators, when from the crown of his hat he produces his cold capon: so Armarillis (or rather Parthenope, as I take it) in The Rehearsal, with her wine in ber spear, and her pye in her helmet; and the cook that slobbers his beard with sack-posset, in The Man's the Master; have, in my opinion, made the most diverting part of the action. These embellishments we have received from our imitation of the ancient poets. Horace, in his Satires, makes Mæcenas very merry with the recollection of the unusual entertainments and dishes given him by Nasidienus; and with his raillery upon garlick in his third Epode. The supper of Petronius, with all its machines and contrivances, gives us the most lively description of Nero's luxury. Juvenal spends a whole satire about the price and dressing of a single fish, with the judgment of the Roman senate concerning it. Thus, whether serious or jocose, good eating is made the subject and ingredient of poetical entertainments.

I think all poets agree, that episodes are to be interwoven in their poems with the greatest nicety of art; and so it is the same thing at a good table: and yet I have seen a very good episode (give me leave to call it so) made by sending out the leg of a goose, or the gizzard of a turkey, to be broiled: though I know, that critics with a good stomach have been offended that the unity of action should be so far broken. And yet, as in our plays, so at our common tables, many episodes are allowed, as slicing of cucumbers, dressing of sallads, seasoning the inside of a surloin of beef, breaking lobsters' claws, stewing wild ducks, toasting of cheese, legs of larks, and several others.

A poet, who, by proper expressions and pleasing images, is to lead us into the knowledge of necessary truth, may delude his audience extremely, and indeed barbarously, unless he has some knowledge of this Art of Cookery, and the progress of it. Would it not sound ridiculous to hear Alexander the Great cominand his cannon to be mounted, and to throw red-hot bullets out of his mortarpieces? or to have Statira talk of tapestry-hangings, which, all the learned know, were many years after her death first hung up in the hall of kiug Attaius? Should sir John Falstaff complain of having dirtied his silk stockings, or Anne of Boleyn call for her coach; would an audience endure it, when all the world knows that queen Elizabeth was the first that had her coach, or wore silk stock

2 A tragedy by Thomas Shadwell, acted 1676. 3 A tragedy by Thomas Porter, acted 1663. A comedy by sir William Davenant, acted 1669.