University of Virginia Library

OYSTERS.

Man has been styled a speaking animal, a laughing
animal, a bargaining animal, and a drunken
animal, in contradistinction to all other animals who
neither speak, nor laugh, nor bargain, nor get
drunk; but a cooking animal seems after all to be
his most characteristic and distinguishing appellation.
In the important art of cooking victuals he
shines pre-eminent; here he taxes all his faculties,
racks his invention, and gives unbounded
range to his imagination. Nature has given to
every other animal a peculiar taste, and furnished
three or four kinds of food to suit that taste, but
this sense in man accommodates itself to an innumerable
quantity of materials. He has made copious
selections from all things that dwell upon the
face of the globe—from the birds of the air, from
the fish of the sea, from the inhabitants of lake and
river, yea, from the bowels of the earth has he extracted
substances to minister to his palate, and the

whole mineral and vegetable world has been ransacked
with indefatigable industry for its gratification.
Thousands of his species pass their lives in
dreary mines to send forth the simple but indispensable
salt with which he seasons his viands; while
others fit out frail vessels, and amid storm and tempest,
traverse the wilderness of waters for certain
spices that add piquancy to a favorite dish! But
after he has collected all the products of the world
together, that is only the commencement—the preliminary
mustering of his forces. What are all
these materials collectively to the innumerable, the
inconceivable quantity of dishes which he manufactures
from them by skilful combinations or incongruous
mixtures? Twelve figures can be set down in
thousands of different ways and no two alike; then
out of those millions of primitive substances, what
countless quintillions of dishes can he not compound!
whilst every day new secrets are brought
to light and added to the limitless list of gastronomic
discoveries.

The ancients knew something as regarded these
matters; but still they seemed to have studied
expense and vanity more than real gratification.
There are few that have not heard of the extravagances
of an Heliogabalus, his brains of flamingos,
his tongues of nightingales, and his heads of

ostriches, six hundred of which were served up in
a single dish, and for which single dish the deserts
of Arabia must have been scoured and desolated—
but there is no ingenuity in this, nothing remarkable,
save its monstrous folly. At a later period
the art took a more complex form. In 1577 the
abstemious cardinal, Ascanius Colonna, gave an
entertainment to the prince of Nassau, when the
following unique olla podrida was produced, which
was looked upon as one of the greatest achievements
of the times, and was so admired and lauded
by all who partook of it, that a certain holy father
present at the feast, composed a Latin ode upon it,
and handed the receipt down to an ungrateful posterity,
who refuse to avail themselves of this chef
d'œuvre in the annals of cookery. The ingredients
were “ten pounds of beef, three pounds of a
pig, six wood pigeons, one pound of truffles, six
thrushes, one capon, three pounds of turnips, six
handsfull of green fennel seed, two pounds of sausages
composed of curious materials, one pound of
pepper, six onions, twelve larks, three lobsters,
seven lampreys, four choice cardoons, (a vegetable
resembling celery) two heads of Bologna cabbage,
three pounds of tallow, spices, salt, sugar, and other
seasonings.” How stomachs were constructed in
those days it is not stated.

The United States possess an advantage over all
the nations of the earth in two things highly conducive
to human happiness—oysters and peaches.
Men may disagree about forms of government, or
the fine arts, or the relative merits of poets, painters,
and actors; and whether they are right or
wrong, may be perfectly sincere and well-meaning
in their opinions; but whoever denies the complete
supremacy of the oysters and peaches of this part
of the world, must be given over as incurably
infected with prejudice and perverseness. The
peaches of England are nothing, and the oysters,
generally speaking, no more to be compared to
these, than a crab-apple to a pippin; though there
ought to be an especial reservation made in favor of
what is called the “Colchester native,” the flavor of
which must dwell in the grateful remembrance of
all who have had the good fortune to taste them;
they are uncommonly sweet, but small—a very
choice oyster for ladies; but when taken into a
tolerably capacious mouth, do not touch the palate
at every point—there is still something wanting,
and you do not experience that unalloyed gratification,
that fulness of delight which is the necessary
consequence of swallowing a large, fresh, fat, Yorkbay
oyster. So extremely grateful are the latter to
all who truly appreciate their estimable qualities,

that every additional one only creates a keener
desire for its successor,
until the stomach signifies its incapacity to receive
a farther supply of the luscious and delectable food.

Man is naturally a self-opiniated contrary animal,
and feels a natural inclination to disagree with his
species on all earthly questions; but still he divides
into parties and subdivides into factions, and it is
possible to find half a dozen people who have the
same views in politics, religion, and literature; but
perhaps no two were ever formed since the creation
with exactly the same tenets respecting the stomach.
They may hold on together for some time, and
confess that they both like boiled salmon or roast
ducks; but let them speak upon the subject of eating
for a quarter of an hour, and a hundred minute
but important differences of taste discover themselves.
Indeed, two men alike in this respect would
be a much greater rarity than the two Dromios.
There are few points on which there is a more unanimous
opinion entertained than oysters. All agree
as to their virtues in the first instance; but whether
they are best raw, or stewed, or fried, or broiled,
or pickled, is the subject of endless cavillings,
and interminable harangues. The longest dispute

I ever listened to was whether it was best to devour
these creatures with black pepper or red; and such
was the earnestness of the disputants that the man
employed in opening them, making a mistake, kept
helping the red pepper advocate with black and the
black pepper zealot with red; and to the infinite
amusement of the lookers on, neither found out the
difference until they were told, when both instantly
declared they thought the oysters had a very peculiar
taste! just as newspapers or politicians will
now-a-days commence a fiery dispute concerning
democratic and federal parties, or the powers of the
general and state governments, until they unconsciously
change sides in the course of the argument,
without being anything the wiser; and just so trivial
and undistinguishable are half the disputes into
which we poor brainless bipeds plunge with such
uncontrollable fury, to the infinite amusement of
all calm and dispassionate spectators. But it will
not do to go on grounding general reflections on an
oyster. It was made for better things than to be a
theme from which to extract a questionable moral.
I would if I could be eloquent in thy praise, thou best
and gravest[1] of fish—thou most nutritious and di
gestible of moluscous substances—thou stanchest
friend and steadiest supporter of Afric's trampled
sons, for whom thou daily effectest more than Wilberforce
can ever hope to compass—much do I regret
that the insatiable appetites of the citizens are
robbing their bay of its greatest boast; like the boy
who killed the goose for the golden eggs, they are
not content with the yearly produce of thy fruitful
beds, but they leave them oysterless, seize on both
interest and principal, and expect a miracle to provide
for the future. It is easy to foresee the ruinous
consequences of such atrocious conduct—but it
is not in common prose that thy merits and sufferings
should be commemorated. I will take my harp
and sweep its softest strings.