230 THE RABBIT 



of a noble race may have degenerated, but at least 

 they are superior to vulgar prejudices. They have 

 laid to heart one precept of their saintly patron, for 

 they call nothing that is edible common or unclean. 

 Go into the Piazza Navona, or any of the other 

 markets, of a morning, before the cooks have done 

 bargaining for the provision of the day, and you will 

 see as miscellaneous an assortment of viands as may 

 be met with anywhere. Rabbits and frogs, and not 

 unfrequently cats, rub shoulders with quails, beccaficos, 

 and ortolans. The famous Roman dinner at the 

 Minerva, and, still more, an improvised luncheon at 

 some osteria in the Campagna, used to be a triumph 

 of gastronomic license. The comparatively rare 

 porcupine took the pas ; for the Romans are as 

 devoted to that highly flavoured dainty as the 

 Algerians and Kabyles ; but the rabbits, spitted or 

 stewed, w^ere always among the pieces de resistance. 

 The motley morning spectacle in a Roman market 

 reminds us of a more cesthetic group, elaborated by 

 Eugene Sue in the ' Gourmandise ' of his ' Sept Peches 

 Capitaux.' The Doctor Gasterini, in advocating the 

 vice he maintains to be a virtue, leads his guest 

 to the stall of his nephev/, Leonard, the poacher. 

 Leonard, with the inspiration of the sylvan artist, has 

 arranged a game trophy ; the wild boar and the deer 



