Curaçoa, it is said, was discovered by a French chanoine, and the aroma of the wild cherry imprisoned in Maraschino by an Italian frate. A German Pfarrer, it is averred, first dissolved gold in the eau de vie de Dantzig, and through a Spanish sacerdote is said to have come Santa Cruz, the rum of the Holy Cross. In the quest for the elixir of life the monastery became the great alembic of liqueurs, the study of essences, spirits, and distillations varying with the labour of illuminating missals and the routine of religious devotions. During the thirteenth century Arnaud de Villeneuve formulated the question of the elixir of life in these terms, which became a dogma for all his monastic successors: "This is the secret, viz., to find substances so homogeneous to our nature that they can increase it without inflaming it, continue it without diminishing it, ... as our life continually loses somewhat, until at last all is lost." The outcome of the patient labours of these religious alchemists was numerous elixirs and liqueurs, of which the secret composition was transmitted from generation to generation in convents and monasteries. These liqueurs were in their origin simply a pharmaceutic product; it is only within a comparatively short time that they have been converted into after-dinner douceurs.
Every useful art, however, must find perfection of expression sooner or later, notably an art which is a necessity and which likewise appeals to the lawful gratification of the senses. And if cookery was fostered by the cloisters of Europe, and reached its zenith during the early part of the past century in Paris, it is equally true that at no time in the history of the world has it attained such general excellence as at present.
But let the religious orders and the priesthood be credited with their full share in its advancement. They are no exception to the generality of mankind in being blessed with appetites, but they are sufficiently intelligent to recognise that in a well-appointed cuisine there exist both a prophylactic to ennui and the best of pharmacopœias. Let the spit turn merrily, therefore, and the carp fatten in their ponds; let the flower of the vine and the pressings of the grape distil for them their fragrance; let them repeat their paternosters and chant in concert their penitential psalms:
"1. One herring and one herring make two herrings,
Two herrings and one herring make three herrings.
"2. Three herrings and one herring make four herrings,
Four herrings and one herring make five herrings.
"3. Five herrings and one herring make six herrings."
* * * * *
And so on up to a hundred herrings.