INTRODUCTION.
Reading edition
The title of this book by itself conveys so much that any introduction to the many good things told in its pages seems superfluous. It certainly should not require any urging to induce all who can to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them.
“One hundred years ago and more” brings before us a delightful period in our country’s history, and recalls the generous, cordial feelings which prevailed among our ancestors—that “open-handed spirit, frank and blythe, of ancient hospitality,” which made the homes of the New World all that a stranger could desire.
We may reconcile ourselves to the passing of “the fugaceous hospitalities of the snuffbox” as needing the powdered wig and three-cornered hat to justify them. What a genuine ring there is in the words of Washington, referring to Mount Vernon, when he said: “Let the hospitality of the house with respect to the poor be kept up; let no one go hungry away.” And the cordiality of Jefferson while living in Philadelphia is delightfully expressed in a letter to Richard Peters: “Call on me whenever you come to town, and if it should be about the hour of three, I shall rejoice the more. You will find a bad dinner, a good glass of wine, and a host thankful for your favour and desirous of encouraging repetitions of it, without number, form, or ceremony.”
It was a time when there was truly that “hospitality sitting with gladness,” which all the luxuries of the present day cannot supply.
Athenæus, as early as the Third century, held that “Every investigation which is guided by principles of nature fixes its ultimate aim entirely on gratifying the stomach.” And Dr. Johnson, in simpler phrase, confirms Athenæus when he says: “I look upon it that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else.” This volume would appeal to both philosophers.
The sources of the recipes add greatly to their value and interest. Though described as coming from “the kitchen,” they were the work of as gentle dames as ever graced a court.
It is a sad error to suppose that the homely accomplishments of housewives, deemed essential at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries in this country, are no longer important. A hundred years ago so much could be left to faithful servants that even less was required of the heads of households than now. There are, alas! no more of those loyal, devoted, if humble, members of the family circle who, in wealth and health or in trouble, never failed to supply the comforts and maintain the dignity of the old homes. To-day even in England or Scotland a Caleb Balderston would be hard to find, and the colored “Aunties” have disappeared under the changed conditions at the South.
The character of the hospitality at the North differed from that at the South, especially in the rural sections. In the North the well-kept inns to be found on many of the principal roadways supplied what the roof of the planter generously offered to the traveler in the Southern States. “The spare room” provided in a Northern home had little meaning to the Southerner, whose every room was always a guest chamber, if necessary, for the welcome of one coming to his door. The tables of the North could, however, vie with those of the South, and, within the recollection of many now living, Christmas dinners rivaled in their generous profusion such a feast as Pepys lovingly records as “most neatly dressed by our own only mayde.” “We had a fricassee of rabbits and chickens, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a great dish of a side of lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a lamprey pie,—a most rare pie,—a dish of anchovies, good wine of several sorts, and all things mighty noble to my heart’s content.”
Prior to the year 1800, perhaps, the best social conditions in the North were to be found in Philadelphia. Society, naturally, became more cosmopolitan there, as it was the seat of government; and the foreign ministers preferred Philadelphia, even after the removal of the capital to Washington. That city, which the Abbe Correa wittily described as “the city of magnificent distances,” presented few attractions in its early days. Distinguished visitors from abroad, attracted by the novelty of the new country, and later many who were driven away by the French Revolution, gave additional variety and attractiveness to Philadelphia society. Many of the houses built with a view to entertaining were spacious and luxurious. Balls and dinners were frequent. The very women whose hands recorded the dainty dishes herein described, by their brilliancy and beauty established the reputation for charm which American women have sustained ever since.
This is not the place to describe in detail these centres of social interest, though a few may be mentioned.
At the house of Tench Francis and his wife, who was Anne Willing, both before and after the Revolution could be met the most cultivated and interesting people. Distinguished foreigners and visitors from all parts of the country were included in their receptions, and it became a delightful Salon.
The large mansion and gardens of William Bingham, Senator of the United States, whose wife was also a Miss Willing, continued, while they lived, to be the scene of many entertainments. Frequent mention of them is made in the published memoirs of persons who visited America at that time.
Among many others, the homes of Chief Justice Chew, Robert Morris, Samuel Powell—whose wife has contributed to the receipts given in this volume—Governor Hamilton, whose beautiful house and park, “The Woodlands,” still remains, though converted into a cemetery; George Harrison, General John Cadwalader, and later his son, General Thomas Cadwalader, Richard Peters and Alexander Wilcocks may be named. These were all centres of social influence. In addition to private influence, society at the period referred to was largely controlled by certain associations, which in some instances continue to the present day. “The State in Schuylkill,” known generally as “The Fish House,” was formed in 1732, and is still conducted under the same constitution and rules. It is believed to be the earliest incorporated body of its kind existing anywhere. Its government is formed upon that of a State, with a governor and other officers. The new members are taken as apprentices and are trained to be expert cooks.
An incident occurred to Tench Francis, already mentioned, when he was in England, that showed the value of his Fish House training. Mr. Francis had been detained in England for two years waiting to have a case vitally affecting his interests heard by the Lord Chancellor. When almost in despair a lady friend said that Lord Camden was a bon vivant, and if Mr. Francis would prepare the turtle she would invite the Lord Chancellor and himself to dine. At dinner she would announce to whose good offices his lordship owed his favorite dish, and then ask the favor in return. The dinner was given, the turtle was prepared. The Lord Chancellor was charmed both by his hostess and the turtle, ordered the hearing for the following Thursday, and forthwith decided the case in Mr. Francis’s favor.
Fish House punch might also have been provided, for that beverage was celebrated then and is still a delightful compound for those who can stand it. But the Dabney mint julep is far better.
The Wistar party, composed of members of The American Philosophical Society, is another social function of a century’s existence which still brings together, every fortnight, at the houses of its members, the scientific, literary and professional world. To these may be added “The Assemblies,” which have continued since 1740. It is not probable that any similar social organization has endured so long, except the St. Cecilia, of Charleston, South Carolina, a similar organization, of which the Charleston Gazette of November 5, 1737, records the first meeting on Queen street, Thursday, the 12th, 1737. These balls are still of great interest, and with the increase in the social world the anxiety to secure invitations is extreme. It might serve a good purpose to give to the public a fuller insight into what really constituted society in the days when our country was young. While there was a simplicity in one sense, there was true dignity, much cultivation, and a substantial character totally lacking to-day. It is deplorable if the authoress of the introduction to Fads and Fancies is right when she declares that “We cannot gainsay the fact that wealth and the power it brings rule supreme in our land, ... and to this decree of the people American society has bowed down obediently.”
Even in New York, which is assumed by the writer of the quoted words to be the controlling centre of social influence to-day, it is to be hoped there still exists a higher plane of thought which does not rest upon “the golden basis.” Elsewhere, and certainly in the South, there is still a controlling class who rise above the influence of mere wealth.
If for nothing else this publication is valuable as showing the homely virtues of those who have thrown more lustre upon our country than can be effaced by the highest priced biographies in Fads and Fancies.
John Cadwalader.
AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS DINNER.
Christmas, with its festivities and its preparations, was a busy time to the housekeeper of fifty years ago, “befo’ de war,” in Virginia. It meant thought and labor for weeks beforehand; especially was this true of the homes in the country, where lavish entertainment was the rule. The home I have in mind is a rambling, old-fashioned Virginia house, thirty miles from Fredericksburg, and in that part of Virginia known as the Northern neck, which is said to have produced more great men than any other place of the same size in this country. Weeks before Christmas supplies were ordered from either Baltimore or Richmond. Then came the busy time. The Southern woman in those days, while the “Lady Bountiful” of her domain, and surrounded by servants ready to do her bidding, had her responsibilities and cares. She was up with the lark, saw her household in order; she ministered to the sick and comforted the afflicted; bond and free alike had her care. There was as much excitement and anticipation among the negroes at Christmas as among the whites, from the smallest little darkey to Uncle Peter, the oldest negro on the plantation. Two weeks before Christmas began the busy time, seeding raisins, cutting citron, washing and drying currants, for these were the days before all this could be bought. Every housekeeper had her own especial receipts handed down from mother to daughter. In the big kitchen at night, before a blazing log fire, would sit the cook, surrounded by several of the house servants preparing the fruit for cakes, mincemeat and plum pudding. Apple toddy was made by an old family receipt usually a month beforehand, as it improved, like many other things, with age. The menu for a Christmas dinner at this old house was a soup, either calf’s head or turtle; then a turkey at one end and a young pig or a haunch of venison at the other, with a great variety of vegetables. Wines of different kinds were served throughout the dinner, and of a rare vintage were they, for every man of means had his wine cellar and the Virginia gentleman of those days was a connoisseur. Then came the dessert, to childhood’s eyes most important; a bowl of calvesfoot jelly, sparkling in the cut glass bowl, and the oft repeated comparison of Santa Claus in the old nursery jingle, “that he had a round face and a little round belly, which shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly,” was a good one to juvenile minds. The plum pudding was always brought in, in a blaze of glory, with a sprig of holly in the top, while the blue flame danced around it. A big fruit cake, mince pies and blanc-mange moulded in the shape of eggs and lying in a nest of thinly shaved lemon peel, were some of the Christmas cheer on that dinner table. The china was the old blue Canton, while the finest damask, cut glass and old silver added its aristocratic touch to the picture. Every servant had his share of the good things, and that night the sound of the fiddle and the shuffle of many feet gave evidence of a dance in the kitchen for the negroes. Years have passed. The master and mistress of this happy home have been sleeping many years in the old graveyard on the plantation. The descendants are scattered far and wide. The old blue china hangs on the walls of the home of one of them in Germantown, with some of the silver that graced that last Christmas dinner. Two old receipt books, yellow with age and worn with much handling, are still preserved, and here are some of the receipts from such famous Virginia housekeepers as Mrs. Roy Mason, Mrs. O. Taylor, Mrs. Randolph and many others.
(Mrs. James T. Halsey.) Sue Mason Maury Halsey.
HOW TO COOK A HUSBAND.
GODERICH, LAKE HURON, CANADA.
In a lecture room, before a cooking school, For cooking a husband was given this rule: First, in selecting, to market don’t go; The best you’ll not find there, most surely no. For although there are many, yes, galore, The prime will always be brought to your door. Don’t think for a moment, to bake or broil, Much better tie in the kettle to boil. Use a silken cord called comfort—’twon’t break, But one called duty is apt to be weak. To make him secure it is well, no doubt, Yes! for aught we know; he’d be falling out. And then, too surely if your back were turned, He’d become, alas! both crusty and burned. In cooking a husband you’ll plainly see, Like lobsters and crabs, alive they must be. Should he sputter and fuss, help there is none; Some husbands do it until they are done. Some sugar add, in the form of kisses; You’ll find to absorb, he rarely misses. Vinegar and pepper, use none at all; But of spice you may add a sprinkling small. Stir some, lest to the kettle he adhere, Thus making him useless, I greatly fear. Please not in his side some instrument stick, For when he is done you will know it quick. With proper treatment and excellent care You’ll find him, indeed, delicious and rare.
THE ARISTOCRACY OF THE KITCHEN.
Next in importance to the mammy in the Southern home was the cook, not only in her own estimation, but to those with whom she came in contact. She was queen in her domain—the kitchen. A representative of a prominent South Carolina family tells the following story: When a little girl of ten, she heard her mother say one day that she was descended from the Indian Princess, Pocahontas. This made a great impression on her childish mind. Going one day into the kitchen, she was summarily ordered out by the cook. Rising to the dignity of her ten years, and the blood of this princess, which she felt coursing through her veins, she said: “Don’t you dare order me out. I am descended from a Princess.” With great dignity the old cook, assuming a most queenly air, said: “I am descended from a princess, too.” With rare, quick wit this young lady said: “Who is your princess?” “Pocahontas,” was the reply. “And,” said this charming woman, “I never told the name of my princess, and retired from the royal dominion.”
Sue Mason Maury Halsey.