It was not without just reason that Boileau declared:
On est savant quand on boit bien;
Qui ne sait boire ne sait rien.
Who drinketh well his wisdom shows;
Who knows not drinking nothing knows.
And Jean le Houx, in the dedication of his sparkling Vaux de Vire—anacreontics which are unique in the languages—asserts that his best verses were produced by drinking good wine, while inferior wine was responsible for the poorest. It would be interesting to know what special wines inspired the incomparable tribute to his nose—
... Duquel la couleur richement particippe
Du rouge et violet,
or whether it was white or red wine that drew forth the frolicsome stanzas addressed to Magdaleine.
Le Houx deserves to be classed among the great philosophers. It is to be regretted, however, that his philosophy did not extend to dining as well as wining—though, for that matter, the eight little 18mo volumes of the Almanach des Gourmands,[[11]] justly classed by Monselet among the great forgotten books, leave nothing to be desired on the subject of epicurism in its most infinitesimal and far-extending details. The humor and verve are exquisite, while La Reynière’s style might come under the definition of Remy Belleau-“well-coupled and properly sewn words, graces and favors of a well-chosen subject, and I do not know what happy chance (et ne sçay quel heur), which truly accompanies those who write well.” Only, the Almanach is in prose. With all due regard for Berchoux and his poem in four cantos, La Gastronomie, the editions of which are almost as numerous as the stars in the Milky Way, the French genius is yet to appear who may do full justice in verse to the pleasures of the table.