1 Mr. Hayward's French hotel-keeper in Germany had a
different, but not less cogent reason for not learning
German. 'Whenever a dish attracts attention by the art
displayed in its conception or preparation, apart from the
material, the artist will commonly be discovered to be
French. Many years ago we had the curiosity to inquire at
the Hôtel de France, at Dresden, to whom our party were
indebted for the enjoyment they had derived from a suprême
de volaille, and were informed the cook and the master of
the hotel were one and the same person: a Frenchman, ci-
devant chef of a Russian minister. He had been eighteen
years in Germany, but knew not a word of any language but
his own. "A quoi bon, messieurs" was his reply to our
expression of astonishment; "à quoi bon apprendre la langue
d'un peuple qui ne possède pas une cuisine?" '—Art of
Dining, pp, 69, 70.
The doctor was somewhat puzzled what to say. He had some French and more Italian, being fond of romances of chivalry; and in Greek and Latin he thought himself a match for any man; but he was more occupied with speculations on the position and character of his new acquaintance than on the literary opinions he was enunciating. He marvelled to find a young man, rich enough to do what he here saw done, doing anything of the kind, and fitting up a library in a solitary tower, instead of passing his time in clubs and réunions, and other pursuits and pleasures of general society. But he thought it necessary to say something to the point, and rejoined:
'Porson was a great man, and his dictum would have weighed with me if I had had a velleity towards German; but I never had any. But I rather wonder you should have placed your library on the upper instead of the middle floor. The prospect, as you have observed, is fine from all the floors; but here you have the sea and the sky to the greatest advantage; and I would assign my best look-out to the hours of dressing and undressing; the first thing in the morning, the last at night, and the half-hour before dinner. You can give greater attention to the views before you when you are following operations, important certainly, but mechanical from repetition, and uninteresting in themselves, than when you are engaged in some absorbing study, which probably shuts out all perception of the external world.'
'What you say is very true, sir,' said the other; 'but you know the lines of Milton—
'Or let my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be seen in some high lonely tower,
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes.
'These lines have haunted me from very early days, and principally influenced me in purchasing this tower, and placing my library on the top of it. And I have another association with such a mode of life.'
A French clock in the library struck two, and the young gentleman proposed to his visitor to walk into the house. They accordingly descended the stairs, and crossed the entrance-hall to a large drawing-room, simply but handsomely furnished; having some good pictures on the walls, an organ at one end of the room, a piano and harp at the other, and an elegantly-disposed luncheon in the middle.
'At this time of the year,' said the young gentleman, 'I lunch at two, and dine at eight. This gives me two long divisions of the morning, for any in-door and out-door purposes. I hope you will partake with me. You will not find a precedent in Homer for declining the invitation.'
'Really,' said the doctor, 'that argument is cogent and conclusive. I accept with pleasure: and indeed my long walk has given me an appetite.'
'Now you must know,' said the young gentleman, 'I have none but female domestics. You will see my two waiting-maids.'