Chapter XV

_Plate VIII—Tea Caddy, Salt Spoons, and Salt—Salt-Cellar—Monks of La
Trappe—Egg Spoon—Paschal Eggs—Poultry raised by Steam—Mustard
Spoons—French Prayer—Celestial House Movers—Beef and Mustard—Punch
Spoon and Ladle—Wassail Bowl—Burns—‘Arts et Metières’—Sugar
Tongs—Sifter and Snuff Spoons—Cream, Marrow, and Physic Spoons—Human
Life—History and Influence of the Spoon—Author’s Request—His Parting
Bow._

PLATE VIII.—a miscellaneous collection. _Figs. 1, 2_—tea caddy spoons, for transferring the dried herb from small canisters to tea-pots. They are of the last century; but being imitations of nature, will be more or less in fashion while refined taste prevails. _Figs. 3, 4, 5_—salt spoons of silver, pearl and ivory, but sometimes made of tortoise shell, horn and bone, and of diverse patterns. As salt has been used at table from primitive times minute implements for taking it up are of undoubted antiquity, though particular descriptions of them have not reached us.

Of all condiments salt is the chief, both for animals and men. Quadrupeds relish it as well as bipeds. One of nature’s own preparing, it is furnished in profuse abundance. Millions of tons are annually consumed by horses, sheep and oxen in Europe and the United States. Ancient farmers gave it to their stock, for which Plutarch (in _Nat. Ques._) assigns the same reasons as modern agriculturists. What philosophical husbandman is not gratified as his cattle crowd around him for it? The mild eyes of his oxen looking grateful for a relish and watching his movements in hopes of another. The timid ewe takes the treat from his hand, and licks up every stray atom, while the colt, more familiar, smells his pockets and whinnies for more.

Salt not only seasons unsavory meat but preserves it from putrefaction. In view of these admirable qualities, Homer calls it ‘divine.’ It was a symbol of incorruptibility and fidelity—a pledge of friendship and hospitality which nothing but death was allowed to cancel. No social feast was perfect without it, and oblations were seldom offered unless it was an ingredient. ‘No sacrifice,’ says Pliny, ‘was presented to the gods without salt.’ ‘Every oblation of thy meat offering shalt thou season with salt.’ [_Levit._] At the ceremony of circumcision the Turks place, or used to place, a few grains in the boy’s mouth, saying, ‘Heaven make thy name savory as salt among men, and mayest thou live to enjoy the fruits of the earth.’ Can that which is unsavory, exclaims Job, be eaten without salt? Even bread, says one of the ancients, is unpalatable without it. Its enormous consumption was a fruitful source of revenue to ancient as well as modern governments. On one occasion Demetrius rewarded the fidelity of the Jews to him by remitting the gabel.

The salt-cellar was held in great veneration of old, and from superstitious motives, kept remarkably bright and clean. Placed on the table near the images of the presiding deities (as already observed) its presence consecrated the food. In the middle ages it was generally of silver and elaborately wrought. A gilt one is extant modelled after the white tower of London.

To be placed at table above the salt was a mark of honor—to desire a guest to seat himself below it an indication of inferior rank, or of disesteem. In the latter case the mortification was not altogether imaginary, as the following account of an old English hall, the scene of feasting and hospitality, will show:—“At the upper end was placed the orsille, or high table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of the mansion presided with an authority, if not a state, which almost equalled that of the potent baron. The table was divided into upper and lower messes _by a huge salt-cellar_, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above and below it—a custom which not only distinguished the relative dignity of the guests, but extended to the nature of the provision—the wine frequently circulating only above the salt-cellar, and the dishes below it being of a coarser kind than those near the head of the table.” From the correspondence of the younger Pliny, it appears that a similar practice prevailed among the Romans. [See Letter vi. Book 2.]

The fabrication of carved spoons was an employment of religious recluses; they brought higher prices than when made by worldly minded workmen. The monks of La Trappe were prohibited from using their tongues—all communications being made by signs. They were forbidden to read, write, or raise their eyes above the ground unless to direct their steps. Their teeth too might as well have been drawn, for neither fish, flesh nor any thing like solid food was given them to grind;—but absorbed as these men were with celestial matters, and having no need themselves of eating apparatus, they thought it no sin to provide them for other people. Such of the brethren as could not endure the fatigue of the mattock (observes Motraye) were employed in turning, carving, &c. The traveller was presented “with an ivory spoon and fork wrought as well as possible.”

_Fig. 6_—an egg spoon, rather larger than a ‘tea,’ and having the handle joined to the small end of the bowl. Such kind of implements have been in use since hens laid eggs and women boiled them. The Romans were great consumers of eggs; hence the saying ‘_ab ovo usque ad mala_,’ from eggs to apples—an elliptical expression for a feast—eggs being the first, and apples the last dish served up. Eggs played important parts in monastic feasts and farces. The tenth of all produce of land, fowls and cattle kept monks’ larders well supplied, and woe to him who robbed the church of tythes, or ‘stole eggs from a cloister.’ “If a peeter penny or an housle egg were behind, or a patch of tythe unpaid, then beware of spirits.” At Easter, eggs were boiled hard and stained of various colors with onion peeling or broom flowers, and sometimes gilded. They were consecrated according to a ritual of Pope Paul V. and presented to children and friends, under the name of _pace_ or _paschal_ eggs. The practice of boys striking eggs against each other, the shattered becoming the property of the owners of the sound ones, is descended from mediæval times.

The egg was an ancient emblem of the universe, and has been symbolized in a thousand things. An envious man thinks his neighbor’s fowls lay more than his. Eggs are now hatched by steam, and chickens reared without the aid of clucking hens. Released from anxious care about their young and from the debilitating work of incubation, matronly fowls have now nought to do but quietly lay their eggs and pass their time in pleasure. Cooks with poultry can be supplied without tearing screaming pullets from their parent’s side—sundering the finest fibres of affection. Then the ‘_Eccaleobion_,’ it is said, will shortly place within the poor’s reach luxuries hitherto denied them. The destitute are not long to remain ignorant of the taste of chicken broth and plovers fricasseed, of broiled partridge, quail and meadow hens; of roasted geese, and ducks and turkeys.

_Fig. 7_ a silver and _8_ an ebony mustard spoon. Forms of the ancient implements have not reached us, but some sayings to which the condiment gave rise are still in use:—‘’Tis mustard after dinner,’ indicating that the time for using a thing has passed, or that the thing itself is of no consequence; ‘a man amused with mustard;’ one that makes great things of trifles. It has ever been deemed essential to beef, especially salt beef; hence an old French prayer:—

De trois choses Dieu nous garde,
_Du bœuf salé sans moutarde_,
D’un valet qui se regarde,
D’une femme qui se farde.

‘Dijon mustard’ was renowned in the time of Philip the Fair, during whose reign the reader will recollect two important transactions took place—the introduction of the mariner’s compass into modern Europe, and [in 1291] the transportation by angels of the Virgin Mary’s dwelling at Nazareth into Dalmatia; whence it was conveyed three years afterwards (by the same celestial house movers) to the opposite coast of the Adriatic, and located on land belonging to a widow named Loretta. There it has remained for the edification of pious pilgrims, and the maturing of grace in the hearts of its reverend proprietors.

_Grumio._ What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?

_Kath._ A dish that I do love to feed upon.

_Grumio._ Aye, but the mustard is too hot a little.

_Kath._ Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.

_Grumio._ Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef from Grumio.

_Kath._ Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.

_Grumio._ Why then, the mustard without the beef.

[_Taming of the Shrew._]

_Fig. 9_—a punch spoon, and _13_ a punch ladle—two of the least beneficial applications of a valuable thing.

Many estates have been spent in the getting,
Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting,
And men for _punch_ left off hewing and splitting.

Few things have better exemplified the truth of another saying of ‘Poor Richard’ than punch and punch spoons:—‘What maintains one vice would bring up two children.’ The old ‘wassail bowl’ and its accompanying spoon were not such promoters of dissipation as their modern descendants, nor did they accommodate such pernicious liquids. Families took wassail at home on festivals, when innocent hilarity reigned; but to indulge in punch, men meet at taverns, where they ply the ladle till they perform antics rude and grotesque as those for which that hero is known whose name is the same as the liquor. After supper at Christmas “the wassail bowl was brought in, of which every one partook, by taking with a spoon a roasted apple out of the ale and eating it, then drinking the healths of the company out of the bowl, wishing them a merry christmas and a happy new year.” With the Greeks and Romans wine was carried to the dining room in large vases, and poured into bowls, whence it was drawn by ladles into cups and tumblers. See figures on the second plate.

O whiskey! saul o’ plays an’ pranks!
Accept a bardie’s humble thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor verses!

Unfortunately for Burns he did not confine himself to invocations of the spirit, or even to moderate draughts at her fountain. His punch bowl of Inverary marble and its attending ladle were too often put in requisition. Under their influence he produced his poem called ‘Scotch Drink,’ in which he thus humorously blesses every total abstinence man:

May gravels round his blather wrench,
An’ gouts torment him inch by inch,
Wha twists his gruntle wi’ a glunch
O’ sour disdain,
Out owre a glass o’ _whiskey punch_
W’ honest men.

How opinions change! With the laudable view of preserving a knowledge of the arts and of innocent comforts, and to guard, as far as human power can, against a second deluge of barbarism, the old French Academy published descriptions, in great detail, of the most valuable manufactures and professions. In ‘L’Art du Distillateur Liquoriste’ is figured and described a Paris coffee room with its appendages, including a “grande jatte de porcelaine _pleine de punch_, un cuiller de buis pour puiser cette liqueur, et la verser dans les verres.”

_Figs. 10_—sugar tongs; a singular application of the spoon, which, instead of scooping up fluids or semi-fluids is here designed to take up solids. When loaf sugar was introduced, (the period of which is uncertain, for it was made several ages before its alleged discovery by Venetians in the 16th century,) the ordinary spoon could not readily plunge among the lumps nor be secure of catching one, or of retaining it when caught; hence _two_ spoons were joined in the chase, and as one heads the game while the other closes up the rear, they seldom lose their destined prey. Two spoons inseparably linked in a pair of sugar tongs are like those married couples, who none but mutual pleasures know, and whose time is spent among the sweets of life.

_Fig. 11_—another curious transformation. We have seen the spoon resemble a pair of shears, then a pair of tongs—here it is a _sifter_. Copiously perforated, the bowl is used to sprinkle refined sugar over the crust of pies, custards and other delicious dainties. Strange, how one thing glides into another! What primeval artist ever thought that spoons would be converted into riddles—made as useless for lifting liquids as the buckets of the Danaides! The bowl is also sometimes flattened and pierced for a fish slice, and, when half covered, is made into a basting ladle! By the way, we forgot to mention at page 177, that snuff spoons were also punctured, because they could not properly discharge their contents otherwise. When held laden to the nostrils, the sudden withdrawal of the superincumbent air by the snifter draws up the spoon itself if the bowl be not perforated, just as a piece of paper held near the mouth is sucked in by an inspiration. But when two or three minute holes are made in the bowl, no sooner does the owner set his nasal pump at work than the atmospheric air, ascending through the openings, drives up the powder in a trice, and scatters none in lateral directions.

_Fig. 12_—a cream spoon, invented on the labor saving principle. It supersedes the necessity of lifting the pitcher with its contents every time a modicum only of the fluid is wanted—exhibiting the advantages of economizing force, though in a less degree than the tea or coffee urn. Fifty cups can be filled from one of these by simply opening a tap which the little finger can effect; whereas no lady could charge half that number from a tea-pot without her arms and shoulders complaining of the labor. _Fig. 14_ is the well known marrow spoon, of the history of which we are uninformed. It is however an emblem of many good things. O! for the salt of wit, cream of pleasantry, and marrow of rich stories!

The last spoon figured on the plate is not the least appropriate to finish with. The others are for taking food, this for taking physic; they to comfort people when in health, this to cure them when sick. Having furnished so many devices by which the stomach is often overloaded, it may be expected that one at least will be given to assist in recovering its natural tone. Every person knows that pills were formerly _gilded_ with the view of preventing their substance from annoying the sense while passing the gullet. Roman apothecaries supplied squeamish patients with such; as a box half full with the gold leaf remaining has been found at Pompeii. The spoon _Fig. 15_ is designed for much the like purpose, viz: to send fluids down the same passage with as little delay and annoyance as possible. To patients in a recumbent position, and to such as are disposed to resist, it is a capital thing. The handle is hollow and communicates with the bowl. When the latter is charged (through the lid which is shown open) the thumb of the nurse or attendant is placed over the aperture of the handle and the lid closed. The contents are then prevented, by the exclusion of air, from escaping. The spoon is next properly placed in the patient’s mouth, and the thumb removed, when the liquid necessarily goes to its appointed place, for air cannot pass to the lungs but through the handle and bowl. This contrivance is modern, but covered spoons for administering broths to sick people, and medicines to children, are old.

Roman _bon vivants_ took a vomit before dinner, as well as one after, and even now there are persons who prepare for the principal meal by exciting an artificial craving with ‘dinner pills.’ There have been, and perhaps always will be, men who live only to digest, and many more with two stomachs to eat and not one to work.

The different states of human life—infancy, adolescence, manhood, senility and second childhood, are represented by pap, dessert, table, tea and physic spoons. The spoon is the first artificial thing an infant studies, the earliest one he handles and knows. As intelligence dawns it is recognized, and at its sight he flutters like a nestling impatient for aliment. In time he leaves the nurse’s arms and tries to feed himself; ambitious to manage his spoon alone, he scatters half the food upon his bib, and smears his hands, his face and throat with porridge. Next a youth, he handles it with ease and plies it with dexterity; a stranger to artificial appetite, he relishes the food it bears, and grows in strength and beauty. A strong man now, his breasts the implement has filled with milk, and made his bones abound with marrow. But quickly the noon of life is past; age and infirmity with rapid strides approach, and take his relish and his strength away. An octogenary now, he feeds himself with pain. Next, helpless as when born, he stares in idiot vacancy and recognizes nothing—save a spoon. The nurse now feeds him as at first, and tends this fitful being, till he goes wailing out of life as he came crying in.

Lest the reader should feel symptoms of a surfeit, we will now make an end, although many things are left untouched, especially such as relate to the statistics of spoons, their diversified materials, processes of manufacture, their cost, numbers annually worn out, hosts of artists employed in making them, talents they have exercised and skill displayed; the myriads incessantly engaged in using them, the daily influx into our world of fresh beings that want them, and a probably increasing demand to the end of time for them—for though science supersedes many things, and the progress of the arts renders old machines useless, neither science nor arts, nor fashion to boot, can ever banish spoons from the earth, or make much alteration in them. While men’s mouths are not placed at the ends of flexible trunks, manufacturers will find work; and the last spoons will differ as little from ours as the persons of the present and the latest spoonmakers. Nay, if people in Venus and Mars eat like us, as they probably do, a deputation from each at one of our public dinners would be at no loss in applying these table utensils.

An extended account of the spoon; of its influence on food, manners, and imagination; of its virtues, the pleasures it imparts and sorrows it soothes, would be a history of all times and people. Looking at the excitement it produces, how seas are crossed, lands ploughed, rivers dragged, fish ponds made, cattle slain, birds ensnared, caldrons cast, mines exhausted and forests burnt for fuel; mountains of clay used up for pottery, kitchens built and cooks employed, &c. to supply materials and prepare them for it—one might suppose the spoon was the spring that keeps all things in motion—the source of genius and parent of the useful arts.

We trust the reader, now he has arrived at the close, will admit that he is more familiar with the subject than when he began it. Few persons would refuse a modest author so slight a reward for his toil, since he could hardly solicit a less one. But there are envious critics, we fear, who, without perusing our work, will condemn it; perhaps declaring there is nothing novel in its spirit or its plan, and that the best things in it were written years ago! If they do, and if, which heaven forefend, they should prove it too, we shall, with the feelings of injured innocence, fervently pray that those impertinent plagiarists may perish who said _our_ good things before us, and that memory may fail all who remember them!

RESPECTED GUEST:—Perceiving by the inverted position of thy bowl and spoon that thou hast not despised the plain food set before thee, but hast relished it so well as to leave none, I, HAB’K O. WESTMAN, present myself in _propria persona_, as in duty bound, to make my parting bow, and acknowledge my sense of thy patronage. It is also my wont, when an agreeable customer is about to leave me, to request him, if the entertainments have been to his liking, and the charges no more than they should be, to invite his friends to take an opportunity of judging of my cookery, and my conscience in making out bills. Adieu, kind patron! Heaven send thee pleasant adventures and a speedy return to “The Globe,” when I hope to have a better dish awaiting thy reception—one preparing under the auspices of our society, and the recipe of which was commended by Dr. Swallow himself—who was, as thou art aware,

“Of palate exquisite, of labor free,
A kitchen doctor of the first degree.”

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