Vanilla
when discovered by the Spaniards, had an unpronounceable name-tlilxochitl.
The Spaniards, in despair, called it vainilla or baynilla-a little pod (vaina or bayna).
It is an orchid-and being the only orchid of direct use to the human race, it takes rank as the most important of all. It is a parasitical plant, twining upon trees to their topmost branches, like ivy. The best is to be found in Mexico; but it also grows in Honduras, Guiana, Brazil, Peru. It is also cultivated in Ceylon. The fruit has a powerful odour, which is said to intoxicate the labourers who climb the trees to gather it. This odour, which belongs to the cinnameine series, and which it shares with a variety of vegetables, is said to be derived from the benzoic acid, which is so abundant in the fruit as when Vatel dried to effloresce upon it in fine needles; but Pereira declares that the precise nature of the odorous principle has not been satisfactorily made out. Be that as it may, it is doubtful whether vanilla would have for its mere odour, which can easily be imitated, the extraordinary acceptance which it now enjoys. It is supposed to have extraordinary virtues, to promote digestion, to exhilarate the mind, to increase muscular energy, and, in a large dose, to be one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs. Very little, however, of the best kind comes to Europe. When ripe the fruit yields from two to six drops of a liquid with an exquisite odour, which is said to possess the above-named virtues in perfection; but not a drop of it comes to this side of the Atlantic. Four sorts of vanilla come to the English market, in packets of from fifty to one hundred pods. The best comes from Mexico; but the consignment is not more than five or six hundredweight, and it is so precious that a pound weight of it is worth £5 or £6. It may be imagined that so rare a commodity is not used for flavouring penny ices. The other three sorts come from Honduras, La Guayra, and Brazil. They are at once more feeble and less delicate; and the balsam of Peru is also used to simulate the true odour of vanilla.
VATEL was a great cook; but he did more for his art by his death than ever he did in his life. He was the housesteward (maître d'hôtel) of the Prince of Condé ; and all that we know of his touch in cookery is based on guess. But Vatel's death is the greatest event in the whole history of cookery since Prometheus stole fire from heaven. When the mythic hero stole that fire from the gods, he made cookery possible; when Vatel stabbed himself in the royal castle of Chantilly, he at once and for ever vindicated for cookery its position among the noble arts. The Prince of Condé was entertaining Louis XIV. and his court at Chantilly; and Vatel had to superintend all the prepa- Vatel rations, from the roast meats to the fireworks. Through some mischance, on the evening of the King's arrival the roast was wanting at two of the tables; and when night came, the fireworks, which had cost 16,000 francs, failed -as they often will. Vatel was troubled in spirit, and refused to be comforted. Next morning he rose at four, determined to attend to everything himself. He found everybody asleep. Soon afterwards he met one of the purveyors with two packages of sea-fish. "Is that all?" said Vatel. "Yes, sir," was the reply. The man was not aware that Vatel had sent to all the seaports. The other purveyors did not arrive by eight o'clock. Vatel's brain began to burn: he believed there would be no more fish, and that the failure of the roast and the fireworks would be followed by that of the turbot. "I shall never survive this disgrace," he said. He went up to his room, placed his sword against the door, and stabbed himself to the heart. Soon the fish arrived from all quarters: they sought Vatel for orders; they went to his room; they knocked; they forced open the door; they found him bathed in blood. Few events have created a profounder sensation than this tragedy, which has ever since in the gastronomical world invested the date, 24th April, 1671, with a melancholy interest. The Prince of Condé wept, and Madame de Sévigné, who tells the story, describes "le grand Vatel" as a man of genius, with head enough to direct a state. When a man of such distinction could kill himself for a turbot which he could not provide to his satisfaction for a king's table, the world began to see that the art of the kitchen might engage minds of rare capacity; and that if there are cooks beneath contempt, there are others not unworthy to rank with great artists, and to sit among the Muses.
A few years afterwards died the great French Marshal Turenne. Let the reader calmly lay his hand upon his heart and say-Did Turenne do more for France or for Veal the happiness of mankind with his bâton than Vatel of the turbot with his glorious ladle? Turenne's name is in all the histories of France and in all the biographical dictionaries. It is only a few years since that the great name of Vatel was for the first time admitted into any biographical dictionary.