Chapter 19 - Page 2

through it! How did the old men peep into it,
even venture across the threshold, braving the hot wrath of the cook
and his assistants, for the sake of imbuing themselves with these rich
and delicate flavors, receiving them in as it were spiritually; for,
received through the breath and in the atmosphere, it was really a
spiritual enjoyment. The ghosts of ancient epicures seemed, on that day
and the few preceding ones, to haunt the dim passages, snuffing in with
shadowy nostrils the rich vapors, assuming visibility in the congenial
medium, almost becoming earthly again in the strength of their earthly
longings for one other feast such as they used to enjoy.

Nor is it to be supposed that it was only these antique dainties that
the Warden provided for his feast. No; if the cook, the cultured and
recondite old cook, who had accumulated within himself all that his
predecessors knew for centuries,--if he lacked anything of modern
fashion and improvement, he had supplied his defect by temporary
assistance from a London club; and the bill of fare was provided with
dishes that Soyer would not have harshly criticised. The ethereal
delicacy of modern taste, the nice adjustment of flowers, the French
style of cookery, was richly attended to; and the list was long of
dishes with fantastic names, fish, fowl, and flesh; and
_entremets_, and "sweets," as the English call them, and sugared
cates, too numerous to think of.

The wines we will not take upon ourselves to enumerate; but the juice,
then destined to be quaffed, was in part the precious vintages that had
been broached half a century ago, and had been ripening ever since; the
rich and dry old port, so unlovely to the natural palate that it
requires long English seasoning to get it down; the sherry, imported
before these modern days of adulteration; some claret, the Warden said
of rarest vintage; some Burgundy, of which it was the quality to warm
the blood and genialize existence for three days after it was drunk.
Then there was a rich liquid contributed to this department by
Redclyffe himself; for, some weeks since, when the banquet first loomed
in the distance, he had (anxious to evince his sense of the Warden's
kindness) sent across the ocean for some famous Madeira which he had
inherited from the Doctor, and never tasted yet. This, together with
some of the Western wines of America, had arrived, and was ready to be
broached.

The Warden tested these modern wines, and recognized a new flavor, but
gave it only a moderate approbation; for, in truth, an elderly
Englishman has not a wide appreciation of wines, nor loves new things
in this kind more than in literature or life. But he tasted the
Madeira, too, and underwent an ecstasy, which was