The arrest of some of the personages in “Monte Cristo” takes place at Vuillemot’s hotel, and Dumas christened after him the famous Lapin à la Vuillemot, which, he says, “You must absolutely have killed yourself.”
The great dictionary is perhaps something of a disappointment. It is laboured, unspontaneous, and, save in the characteristic preface, hardly worthy of its illustrious author. Nevertheless it is vast in its comprehensiveness, for, besides every imaginable dish, old and new, of the so-called legitimate cuisine, it includes receipts for lambs’ tails glacées à la chicorée, elephants’ feet, fillets of kangaroo flesh, snails à la Provençale, and directions as to the right treatment of the babiroussa, or wild Asian pig.
Contrary to his usual custom elsewhere, Dumas gives full credit to the other culinary authors whom he quotes, and he includes recipes from such acknowledged authorities as Brébant, Grimod de la Reynière, Magny, Grignon, Carême, Véfour, and others.
He gives thirty-one methods of cooking carp, and sixteen for treating artichokes. There is to be found also the Javanese formula for cooking halcyons’ nests, and an elaborate essay on the hocco.
The appendix consists of the celebrated “Etude sur la Moutarde,” which is a most flagrant réclame of la maison Bornibus, but is amusing for its sheer effrontery and impudence. There was always something colossal about the man, even when he wrote about mustard.
In Molière’s “Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme” (Act iv. sc. 1), in the scene between Dorante and Dorimène, we find this delightful passage:—
“Si Damis s’en était mêlé, tout serait dans les règles; il y aurait partout de l’élégance et de l’érudition, et il ne manquerait pas de vous exagérer lui-même toutes les pièces du repas qu’il vous donnerait, et de vous faire tomber d’accord de sa haute capacité dans la science des bons morceaux; de vous parler d’un pain de rive à biseau doré, relevé de croûte partout, croquant tendrement sous la dent; d’un vin à séve veloutée, armé d’un verre qui n’est point trop commandant; d’un carré de mouton gourmandé de persil; d’une longe de veau de rivière, longue comme cela, blanche, délicate, et qui, sous les dents, est une vraie pâte d’amande; de perdrix relevées d’un fumet surprenant; et pour son opéra, d’une soupe à bouillon perlé, soutenue d’un jeune gros dindon, cantonnée de pigeonneaux et couronée d’oignons mariés avec de la chicorée.”
From this dinner-programme the taste of the day may fairly be gauged, and it will not be forgotten that it is in this immortal play that the famous line occurs:—
Je vis de bonne soupe, et non de beau langage;
which is so often quoted and misquoted.