|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 19
VI.
THE VAGARIES OF HELWYSE.
Balder Helwyse was a man full of natural and healthy instincts: he was
not afraid to laugh uproariously when so inclined; nor apt to
counterfeit so much as a smile, only because a smile would look well.
What showed a rarer audacity,--he had more than once dared to weep! To
crush down real emotions formed, in short, no part of his ideal of a
man. Not belonging to the Little-pot-soon-hot family, he had, perhaps,
never found occasion to go beyond the control of his temper, and blind
rage he would in no wise allow himself; but he delighted in
antagonisms, and though it came not within his rules to hate any man,
he was inclined to cultivate an enemy, as more likely to be
instructive than some friends. His love of actual battle was intense:
he had punched heads with many a hard-fisted school-boy in England; he
bore the scar of a German _schl�ger_ high up on his forehead; and
later, in Paris, he had deliberately invaded the susceptibilities of a
French journalist, had followed him to the field of honor, and been
there run through the body with a small-sword, to the satisfaction of
both parties. He was confined to his bed for a while; but his
overflowing spirits healed the wound to the admiration of his doctors.
These examples of self-indulgence have been touched upon only by way
of preparing the gentle reader for a shock yet more serious. Helwyse
was a disciple of Brillat-Savarin,--in one word, a gourmand! His
appetite never failed him, and, he knew how wisely to direct it. He
never ate a careless or thoughtless meal, be its elements simple as
they might. He knew and was loved by the foremost cooks all over
Europe. Never did he allow coarseness or intemperance to mar the
refinement of his palate.
"Man," he was accustomed to say, "is but a stomach, and the cook is
the pope of stomachs, in whose church are no respectable heretics. Our
happiness lies in his saucepan,--at the mercy of his spit. Eating is
the appropriation to our needs of the good and truth of life, as
existing in material manifestation: the cook is the high-priest of
that symbolic ceremony! I, and kings with me, bow before him! But his
is a responsibility beneath which Atlas might stagger; he, of all men,
must be honest, warm-hearted, quick of sympathy, full of compassion
towards his race. Let him rejoice, for the world extols him for its
well-being;--yet tremble! lest upon his head fall the curse of its
misery!"
This speech was always received with applause; the peroration being
delivered with a vast controlled emphasis of eye and voice; and it was
followed by the drinking of the cook's health. "The generous virtues,"
Mr. Helwyse would then go on to say, "arise from the cultivation of
the stomach. From man's very earthliness springs the flower of his
spiritual virtue. We affect to despise the flesh, as vile and
unworthy. What, then, is flesh made of? of nothing?--let who can,
prove that! No, it is made of spirit,--of the divine, everlasting
substance; it is the wall which holds Heaven in place! If there be
anything vile in it, it is of the Devil's infusion, and enters not
into the argument."
A man who had expressed such views as these at the most renowned
tables of France and England was not likely to forget his principles
in the United States. Accordingly, he arose early, as we have seen, on
the morning after his arrival, and forced an astonished waiter to
marshal him to the kitchen, and introduce him to the cook. The cook of
the Granite Hotel at that time was a round, red-lipped Italian, an
artist and enthusiast, but whose temper had been much tried by lack of
appreciation; and, although his salary was good, he contemplated
throwing it over, abandoning the Yankee nation to its fate, and
seeking some more congenial field. Balder, who, when the mood was on
him, could wield a tongue persuasive as Richard the Third's, talked
to this man, and in seven minutes had won his whole heart. The
immediate result was a delectable breakfast, but the sequel was a
triumph indeed. It seems that the �sthetic Italian had for several
days been watching over a brace of plump, truffled partridges. This
day they had reached perfection, and were to have been eaten by no
less a person than the cook himself. These cherished birds did he now
actually offer to make over to his eloquent and sympathetic
acquaintance. Balder was deeply moved, and accepted the gift on one
condition,--that the donor should share the feast! "When a man serves
me up his own heart,--truffled, too,--he must help me eat it," he
said, with emotion. The condition imposed was, after faint resistance,
agreed to; the other episodes of the bill of fare were decided upon,
and the Italian and the Scandinavian were to dine together that
afternoon.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|