George Washington Cable.
“Posson Jone.”
Notes to the next group
- Start proofreading at STOPPED HERE. It's p. 40 in the pdf or 36 in the book. and line number 1133 in Google Web Designer
- Change straight quotes to curly quotes
- The scan is terrible, either rescan or type from the original text. The most recent group took pictures of the text and texted or emaild the text to ourselves and pasted it into this document and edited it.
- After the proof reading is finished the poetry will need to be reformatted
SO OLD A CITY as New Orleans naturally possesses a great variety of attractions to the tourist, and in the quaint features of the southern metrop?olis the visitor finds much to interest and and brief sojourn within its extensive limits
It does not matter much in what direction lies the taste of the visitor. Whether exemplified in a seeking for old and forgotten lore; curious byways, antique and musty; evidences of a pre?vious occupation, art, religion or science, or the delights of a purely epicurean nature, New Orleans in its peculiar effects and institutions is in a position to fully satisfy the demand.
To some, the buildings in the old French Quarter with their tiled roofs and mullioned windows, their courtyards and their cement fronts, afford sufficient food for speculation; to others the more impressive edifices fill the demand for strange and untoward things. The vaulted cathedral of St.Louis, the ancient con vent of the Ursuline nuns, the equally historic archepiscopal palace, or the Cabildos near Jackson Square, each appeal with almost spiritual force to the imagination of the beholder. The beautiful cities of the dead, the houses of Cable, the one-time plaza od the Voudooist, or the beautiful Bayou of St. John, gather the attention of men and women whose senses luxuriate with such things, while other strangers, with a more material way of viewing things, see in the city's modern buildings and evidences of a practical progression a charm not second to things of a different caliber
But it is to the man or woman with a really good appetite that the charming old Creole city appeals, in addition to creating a balm for the eye and the mind. And this is a natural sequence of things generally. Men have always been the slaves of appetite. There is no necessity for going as far in the past as EpicurusofLucullus. Roman history may be more strident with rotund tales of the gourmet, and the Caesars may have been more robust in their passion for the good things of this earth. Red mullet and the tongue of the peacock served with cucumbers and seed pearls may have been the proper thing for Nero; hummingbird brains served wit hsauce piquante and flanked with the eyeballs of the scarlet flamingo may have sufficed for the sated appetite of Lucullus; but where, oh where are the things which so rejoice the jaded stomach as a fillet of beef a la mignonne, or a tenderloin a la Richelieu, or a stew of river shrimp a la Creole, to say nothing or liver a la Begue, chicken a la Creole with mushrooms, calf's heel with wine sauce, and a hundred other wonderfull and appetizing dishes concocted and served by the chefs of New Orleans at the principal resaurants of that city?
Lucullus and Epicurus and the kindred gourmets who dallied about the feast in the halcyon hours of old Rome never knew what it was to eat. Yheir banquets were crowned wirh redolent wine, the vintage of the known world. Slave-fed ichthyological specimens gave up their ghosts by the thousand that nobles might be made glad, and the world itself was held hostage that the table be supplied. But what of that? It is not so much the material as the manner in which the fish, flesh and fowl be prepared by ye cook, and it is here that the chef of the crescent city smiles in disdain over the clumsy efforts of his ancient prototypes and cries in triumph: "Hit his not so mooch, no, the stuff, has hit his those cook, yas, and hi ham those cook."
Oh, ye mortals who have wildly dissipated in the delights of the table in all other portions of the United States. You have imagined that your tables held all that nature supplied, but in this you have erred-you have erred strongly. New England pies, Boston beans, Mississipi salt shoulder and molasses, and the various other delicacies which characterize our cooking in all portions of this great country, pale into insignificance before the mellow pleasures of a Creole breakfast or dinner in which the dainty aroma of admirably mingled condiments spurs the appetite before the dishes in their smoking contents regale the hungry ones in fact.
"Ah, this is living," sighed a latter day epicure as he pushed away his empty plate one morning at Begue's, near the French market. "Never have I known what it was to eatr until this morning, and now how can I ever be satisfied with the meals I shall again get when I return to the east."
He is only one of many who have tasted of Creole cookery and have relished a few of the dishes peculiar to New Orleans. He is one of the many who have realized the peculiar charm which hangs about the restaurants of that metropolis and who come to a fitting recognition of the piquant abd attractive concoctions which the ambitious 'chef de cuisine' delights to set before his admiring patrons, not on feast days, but every day. So loudly have the praises in this respect echoed throughout the country that New Orleans has achieved the enviable distinction of being the "one city" in the United States in which the appetite receives a prompt and just attention, and where it is possible to secure a most enjoyable repast a moderate delay. Be it the mixture of french or Italian cookery, or it be the cookery peculiar to the Creole, the fact remains, and beyond question, that as a cookery it is distinct and without equal the world over. No matter whether the visitors dines at Moreau's, Victor's, Hotel de Louisiaine, or breakfast at Begue's, Lecourt's, Madame Antoine's, Astredo's, or at any other Creole institutions, he finds the same pleasing variety of edibles, and all prepared in the inmitable manner which has given so "Fair a flavor" to New Orleans cookery.
BREAKFAST AT BEGUE'S. Just one square below the famous esquestrian statue of Jackson, as it stands in the handsone little park in front of the ancient cathedral of St.Louis in the quaint New Orleans, and on the lower corner or Madison Street, is a modest apeearing two-story brick building.
Its front faces the butcher stalls of the French market, and a bit farther down one may see he little tribe of Indians who, at the apex of the fruit market, dispense the herbs and curios of a passing age to whoever may wish to buy.
Painted on a corne of the brick wall the legend "Bugue's" meets the eyes, and on the front of the building a sign conveys the information that liquors are sold within. fifty feet out Madison Street in the direction of Chartres a small doropen into an entry freshly sprinkled with sand, and a flight of winding stairs dissapearing in the gloom of the upper floor.
the streets are filled with a medley of sounds peculiar to the locality. the heavy rattle of drays, the loud chatters of the thousand and one venders ocupying room in the great market, the "Gascon" of the voluble sidewalk merchants and the catcalls and whistles of a myriad of the vegetables sellers make the atmosphere heavy with incongruous noises, for this is a busy section of the old city, and it is dirty and rank with the scent of garlic and green onions.
It is a locality ike no other locality — save in New Orleans. The grimy cobblestone of the grimmy streets have echoed the horses' hoofs for a hundred years, and the stone is worn and slippery with the passage of beast and of time.
It is picturesque, and in this fact dirt ceases to be dirt, and the grime becomes attractive. the garbage boxes are color schemes, and the cosmopolitan population rich in the elements which make tradition on the one hand and please the eyes on the other. Ships have loaded and unloaded wares at the wharves near by since New Oleans became New Orleans, and the luggers of the swarthy Sciciian, Manilaman and Creole freight the procedure of the seacoast to the marker now as they did a centurt since. And it is here — with the chimes of St.Louis ringing its ears; where history was first made in the young colony, and where patois of old France sounds oddly and quantly, that the equally quaint and equally odd establishment of Monsicur and Madame Begue is situated and has been doing business fot nearly orty years, satisfying the appetites of the Gascon butchers in the early days — now appealing to the tastes and epicurean ambitions of the gourmets of the entire country.
Just one square below the famous equestrian statue of Jackson, as it stands in the handsome little park in front of the ancient cathedral of St. Louis in quaint New Orleans, and on the lower corner of Madison Street, is a modest appearing two-story brick building.
Its front faces the butcher stalls of the French market, and a bit farther down one may see the little tribe of Indians who, at the apex of the fruit market, dispense the herbs and curios of a passing age to whoever may wish to buy.
Painted on a corner of the brick wall the legend "Begue's" meets the eye, and on the front of the building a sign conveys the information that liquors are sold within. Fifty feet out Madison Street in the direction of Chartres a small door opens into an entry freshly sprinkled with sand, and a flight of winding stairs disappears in the gloom of the upper floor.
The streets are filled with a medley of sounds peculiar to the locality. The heavy rattle of drays,the loud chatter of the thousand and one venders occupying room in the great market, the "Gascon" of the voluble sidewalk merchants and the catcalls and whistles of a myriad of vegetable sellers make the atmosphere heavy with incongruous noises, for this is a busy sction of the old city, and it is dirty and rank with the scent of garlic and green onions.
It is a locality like no other locality — save in New Orleans. The grimy cobblestones of the grimy streets have echoed the horses' hoofs for a hundred years, and the stone is worn and slippery with the passage of beast and of time.
It is picturesque, and in this fact dirt ceases to be dirt, and the grime becomes attractive. The garbage boxes are color schemes, and the cosmopolitan population rich in the elements which make tradition on the one hand and please the eye on the other. Ships have loaded and unloaded wares at the wharves near by since New Orleans became New Orleans, and the luggers of the swarthy Sicilian, Manilaman and Creole freight the produce of the seacoast to the market now as they did a century since. And it is here — with the chimes of St. Louis ringing in its ears; where history was first made in the young colony and where the patois of old france sounds oddly and quaintly, that the establishment of Monsieur and Madame Begue is situated and has been doing business for nearly forty years, satisfying the appetites of the Gascon butchers in the early days — now appealing to the tastes and epicurean ambitions of the gourments of the entire country.
' — ?And are you ready for the breakfast at Begue's?
Then follow , and i'll introduce you to a feast that is fit for the gods(this has been said before); that would make an anchorite renounce the penances of his religion and grasp the material delights of a cuisine that has no equal anywhere.
Not to have eaten at Begue's argues ill for your reputation if you have been a visitor to New Orleans and have returned to your home in a city to which the fame of Begue has extened. For the fame of Begue is no longer local. To borrow the hyperbole of an enthusiatic admirer," it is universal."
Poor Eugene Field expressed a very common sentiment when he inscribed in the wonderful visitor's book at Begue's the following verse: " I'm very proud to testify, The happiest of my days Is March 11, '95, At breakfast at Begue's."
That is the way they all feel, and the lamented writer and poet, then in the full glory of a useful existence, but exemplified the old adage that "one touch of nature makes the whole world kin." The passage of time fails to annoy when seated at Begue's table enjoying his fare and sipping his glorious red wine. Time is naught for the moment, and in the rubicund visage of the madame it seems to be written mildly and peacefully. you unconsciously hope mildly and peacefully. You unconsciously hope it may be so with you.
The day you breakfast at Begue's you break your fast not at home. The set hour is eleven o' clock, and by that time your appetite is sharp and eager for the good things of the table. You sigh to begin, and as as you set foot in the little sanded entry and mount the stairs which lead to the dining room and and the savory repast you wonder.
It is all so strange
You have passed the crowds on the streets; the garbage barrels, the french market and the butcher stalls. You have sniffed the multitude of unaccustomed odors; you have viewed the narrow balconies over which leaned the blue-calico-clad house wives gossiping in sharp tones; you have seen things you have never seen before, and rhe Calas woman on the corner with her toothsome burden is not th eleast of them all.
But you mount the stairs, and are thrust, as it were, into an atmosphere of succulent herbs and redolent peppers. You have passed the narrow portals and lo, are ushered into that particular and peculiar domain presided over ny that genius of Epicurus-that saint of gourmet and gourmand-Madame Begue.
Standing on the threshold where dining room and kitchen meet, the madame smiles reassuringly as she flourishes the long-handled skilley which has served her so well and so constantly. M. Begue, priest-like and suave, thrusts a white napkin into his capacious waistcoat and makes his best bow-if you are of the feminine persuasion, and his next best if you are not-and to the accompaniment of a rhythmic frizzle of a sweetbread omelet in the kitchen you take your seat and monsieur serves the fish.
Your Creole vis a vis informs you between courses,"Hit is not everybody, no,w'at sit hat those table," and you must understand this is so. You are aware that patience smooths difficulties, and that you only succeeded in securing a couple of chairs for the madame's famed breakfast after a week of trial and effort.
In the parlance of the day "There were others," and the others were as eager as yourself. There is no necessitty for a multitude of detail as to the effort you made one day to get a seat without having engaged it previously. You had written a letter, but monsieur had recieved it not. He was very "pained" to refuse you, but he had an accomodation for but thirty and every plate that day-and the next, had an owner.
You see, the worthy pair, while frugal and thrifty, are not stricing for wealth. When, forty years agone, they had concieved the eleven-o'clock meal for the busy choppers of chops and steaks, they had but expected a fair return. They builded more than they knew, however, and as the butchers' breakfast grew into the rosy proportions of an early feast at which the best in the land waxed happy, madame and monsieur-for many so class the twain-added vastly to their wealth. Not grasping, they refused to increase the capacity of the odd dining room.
"Thirty is plenty; why inconvenience those to make room for more?" remarked the old gentleman, and he has lived up to the idea. He sets the table for no more, no matter who comes, no matter who waits
Speaking about the dining room- You have ascended the stairs and find yourself in an apartment ablong and not too wide, the greater portion of its space being taken up by an old-fashioned round-cornered table, gleaming with its snow-white linen and array of old-time crockery. Plain, wide-mouthed goblets for the red winem bottles of which rest in single file the length of the board; thick delft plates, horn-handled knives and forks, plated spoons and a wonderful old caster, the piece de resistance of the equipment.The other end of the room is taken up with sundry etageres and tables bearing a litter of linen, glasses and trays; one table in particular being nearly obscured by a great mountain of yellow bread- loaves enormous and toothsome-bread such as New Orleans is famous for.
Windows open into the narrow street below. A gay chintz curtain nearly obscures an alcove where an old negro mammy is washing dishes and chattering in her queer dialect with Madame Begue, who is plainly visible in the little kitchen.
Such a kitchen! It is cut out of the dining room and its floor has been elevated two feet or more. You gaze through the wide doorway and view an interminable array of glistening tins and pans which almost hide the whitewashed walls. A great brown safe, a deal table and an ordinary iron stove completes the fitting of this wonderful kitchen, and yet it is here that madame concocts those delightful dishes that have made her and monsieur famous half the world over.
But it is time for breakfast to be served. Madame calls to monsieur and the next instant the priestly looking host is at the head of the crooked stairway and a weird and shrill whistle syartles the sleeping echoes into earnest being and goes clattering into the saloon through the sanded entry below.
You wonder, and then footsteps are heard- rapid footsteps- and two "garcons" in their shirt sleeves, silent and adept, are at your elbows passing wide slices of the bread, filling your goblets with icem until M. Begue takes the fish from the outstretched palms of madame and the "garcons" are busy with the plates. And you sigh with content as you eat. Such fish, such flesh, such fowl! The flavor of spices, that tinge of red pepper, that soupcon of garlic! You have never tasted the like before, but it is wonderfully pleasant, and when madame announces her famous cut of liver yiy feel that your appetite is well in keeping with the dish, for never have you eaten such liver. The strings of peppers, onions, and garlic rustle against the rafters as the breeze comes in from the street. The clatter of monsieur's whistle flies down the stairs with varying cadence and each cadence means wine-wine or may be something else, but whatever it means, it is never empty. Madame smiles as she comes to the door, her arms bare to the elbow and her hands firm gripped on pot or pan. And,too,you see her before the stove where the odorous steam rises to the cieling, and she is smiling there.
The monsieur-ah, he is mixing more salad, gravely and with the dignity which never deserts him, even when he whistles, and all the while you are eating and watching the red wine disappear. You are listening to the merry conversation of the guests and watching their various features. They too, are happy and enjoying the feast. But it ends and you rise to compliment monsieur and madame. They are complaisant and pleasant.
The rattle of dishes goes on behind the chintz curtain; The noise of the quartier comes in through the windows and a canary in another room warbles sweetly. You pay your dollar, say adieu and descend the stairs.
The feast is over-you have breakfasted at Begue's and are content.
Not the least attractive feature of Madame Begue's establishment is the visitor's register. Here one may view the evidences of progression with half an eye and at the same time become acquainted with scores and scores of embryo poets and poetesses who have from time to time "scribed" their names and spouted verse.
The chief feature of these contributions is that each and every one was written under stress of a full stomach and shows that the meal and not the muse was uppermost at the time. This does not imply that the verse is not without merit. On the contrary verse under the circumstances betokens strength of mind and wonderful enthusiasm.
At all events the lines show an appreciation of the breakfast, and bear testimony, not alone to the host and hostess, but to the fact that New Orleans possesses an establishment that is worthy of unstinted praise. The contributions to the visitor's book are in the main amusing, as the following selections may go to show. But few of the names of America's greatest are given place, and this for the reason that they appear merely as signatures and not affixed to effsions, such as the oes set forth. The book contains some of the best known names of the United States, the owners of which during their stay in the Crescent City sought the delights of Madame Begue's piquant table.
Of all glad words of tonge or pen, The gladdest are these: to Begue's I've been. HELEN M. BONNEY
Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh. I wish the stomach could, but mine is to full for utterance. GEO. E. SMEDLEY, Boston.
Some come here to eat and think, But we come here to eat and drink. A. ELSAS.
A very pleasant memory of New Orleans. LEONARD LECHT, New York.
Sitting down to the table a fellow's heart quails, He has visions of frog legs and short slimy nails; Getting up from the table, his heart filled with praise, Henceforth and forever he'll eat at Begue's. W.G. BRUEN, Chicago.
I have just finished with a good appetite — for more. I simply have to hold my peace To keep my pen from writing, For if I tried to 'spress my thoughts I'd send all poets 'kiting,' But then I'm full. FREDRICK WARDE.
All honor to Robert Watts who first discovered steam, Likewise to Robert Fulton and his famous walking beam; To Ericcson and Edison, to Roentgen and his rays; But none the less we'll honor him who gave the world Begue's. E.H. BECKER.
This breakfast is like Shakespeare, who was an intellectual ocean whose waves touched all shores of thought. C. A. BETZLER, Cleveland.
A joyful remembrance of a lovely morning. LOUIS JAMES.
If the inner man is not satisfied with the delicious dishes of Madam Begue, I do not know what god cooking can do for a man's comfort. DAVID P. JONES, U.S.N.
Thou shalt not die for lack of (New Orleans) breakfast. Julia Marlowe Taber.
Am something of a globe trotter, but this is the best yet. C. E. MILLAR, London.
Language fails, but nothing ails The breakfast we have eaten, And Begue can't be beaten. EUGENE COWLES.
A commonplace life we say and we sigh, But why should we sigh as we say? The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky Makes up the commonplace day. The moon and the stars are commonplace things, The flower that blooms, and the birds that sing, But dark were our world and sad were our lay If we failed to take breakfast with Madam Begue. *****
Down in an alley Made famous by Sally You'll find the resort of Begue. Sit down for an hour, If you then have the power To get up and get out, you're a jay. C. P. MORSE, Cincinnati.
There is nothing like it. J. M. CHESBROUGH.
Parting is such sweet sorrow That I could eat till it be morrow. FLO FIELD.
Ay bin har von tam and ay skol tank ay skol cam agen. M. F. MURPHEY, North Dakota.
Sorrow has been my lot in life, despite all brave endeavor, yet this is my motto: Peace, not strife, And smile and begue forever. MARGARET HUNT BRISRANE.
From sun-kissed Arizona we go to help make Cuba free, If in death we shall there stay, may Heaven be equal to Begue. HUGO BARCLAY.
I'm very proud to testify, the happiest of my days Is March 11, '95, at breakfast at Begue's. EUGENE FIELD.
My belt encircles- the largest breakfast of my life. ZELMA RAWLSTON.
We're filled with- we're filled with-well, we'll call it dismay, But we'll walk clear from Texas To breakfast with Begue. ROSINE RYAN - and Others.
Now comes a ghostly epicure. His breast filled with dismay, Ah me, he sighed, then loudly cried I never should have gone and died Until I met begue. H. M. M. ****
Only another one leaving, as many other do- as I have done before- filled up. J.C. STEWART, St. Louis.
I came here full of fluttering, For I'm a timid bride; I leave here full of something else, And the fullness is inside Mrs. Walker, Washington,
Love, love, beautiful love, does not compare with Begue, For it vanishes soon like the inconstant moon, But the memory of begue's lasts for aye. P.BENSON, Fort Wayne.
Mouth it, as our fellow players do. OTIS SKINNER.
Eh bien, Begue We are here to stay This is a treat With you to eat. LEWIS MORRISON.
My compliments to Madame Begue For a grand dejeuner this day. If I drop in once more, With elcat I'll encore This famous great meal without "tay." MARIE STONE MACDONALD.
Once more with good cheer begins the day, The breakfast, a "bird" vive la Begue. Muse nearly exhausted, yet not quite bereft I'll sing to the host with what I have left. HENRY CLAY BARNABEE.
If money were as easy to get as to spend, I'd spend about twenty-three hours each day at Madame Begue's. HOHN J. MXKENZIE, Chicago.
There was a young man from Bombay, Who ate breakfast with Madame Begue. He said- By St. Swiss, For a breakfast like this I would go a whole month on baled hay. J. K. CHRISTIE.
We come from Philadelphia, a town that's far away, But long before we left our home we knew the name Begue' We have enjoyed the carnival, the balls and maskers may Long linger in our memory, but longer shall Begue. The caviar at Bezaudin's, Moreau's biscuit glace, Have thrilled our palates with delight, but best of all Begue. Madame, when to the north we'll go, to all our friends we'll say, You,Madame, are the Crescent's queen- Adieu, Madame Begue. Mr. AND MRS. HORATIO CURTIS WOOD, Philadelphia.
On March 11,'95,'Gene Field Was here, you say; I wish to goodness I could say That' Gene was here today. HOWARD SAXBY, Cincinnati, Ohio.
Come all you troubadors so gay And trill a matin lied; You've had what French call"Dejeuner," In plain American-"feed." W. H. MACDONALD, Bostonians.
I have sung on the shores of Greece, I have loved in Mandalay; But the finest fee I ever had was here with Madame Begue. E. J. WHEELEHAN.
STOPPED HERE
Of Madame Begue's breakfast we can say: Kings may have more, but they cannot have it any better. R. MOORE.
There are "others," is a saying
I've believed these many days,
But I've changed my mind this morning
Since my breakfast at Begue's.
Eighteen hundred miles to a breakfast in New Orleans at Madame Begue's. GEO. R. JACOBS, Boston.
I wish to say
That Madame Begue
Drove dull care away
On this Sunday.
Hereafter I'll lay
In some bank away,
A part of my pay
For another Sunday
With Madame Begue. THORNWELL FAY.
'Twas never thus before
To-day. I never dined before.
May Begue's ghost forever rise
And light my soul to paradise.
W. H. WATKINS, M. D., New Orleans.
At Begue's we are all expansionists. ANDREW PRICE, M. C., Louisiana.
God bless our home is a motto of gold,
But its edges are fringed with rust;
The motto at Begue's is just as old,
Don't forget it, it's "eat till you bust."
M. S. GOLDSMITH, Cincinnati.
Is not this an awfully jolly party? EFFIE SHANNON.
If you can't Begue,
Begue as you can.
PAGE M. BAKER, New Orleans.
We eat to live on all other days,
We live to eat when we come to Begue's. A. B. J. This is my best, my very best effort after a breakfast so full of good things. SOL SMITH RUSSELL. good. GEN. F. F. MILES.Of Madame Begue's breakfast we can say: Kings may have more, but they cannot have it any better.
There are "others," is saying I've believed these many days, But I've changed my mind this morning Since my breakfast at Begue's
Eighteen hundred miles to a breakfast in New Orleans at Mafame Begue's.
Geo. R Jacobs, Boston.
I wish to say That Madame Begue Drove dull care away On this Sunday. Hereafter I'll lay In some bank away, A part of my pay For another Sunday With Madame Begue. Thornwell Fay.
'Twas never thus before To-day. I never dined before. May Begue's ghost forever rise And light my soul to paradise. W. H. Watkins, M. D., New Orleans.
At Begue's we are all expansionists. Andrew Price, M. C., Louisiana.
God bless our home is a motto of gold, But its edges are fringed with rust; The motto at Begue's is just as old, Don't forget it, it's "eat till you bust." M. S. Goldsmith, Cincinnati.
Is not this an awfully jolly party? Effie Shannon.
If you can't Begue, begue as you can. Page M. Baker, New Orleans.
We eat to live on all other days, We live to eat when we come to Begue's. A. B. J
This is my best, my very best effor after a breakfast so full of good things. Sol Smith Russel.
Good; D-n good. Gen. F. F. Miles.
Es macht nichts aus, Whether early or late, You'll find Begue's breakfast The best in the State. Will H. S. Bateman, Philadelphia.
What is the difference between a year and a day If you only eat breakfast with Madame begue.
Let us offer sweet incense to the devil and enjoy the good things he has provided for the elect. Helen Pitkin.
The deed is done, the breakfast o'er; I feel like lying on the floor. F. L. Clarke, Galesburg, Ill.
Hungry stranger, stop you here, Eat as I have eat'n to-day; Sound her praises far and near, Sound the praises of Begue. Thos. H. Franklin.
Begone dull care on this glas day; Sing one refrain: Begue, Begue. Chas. F. Pierce.
Our hats are off to the South and to Begue's breakfast. Dr. Chas, Odell, Chicago.
My only regret when I dined at Begue's Was this-I forgot To first discard my stays. Dorothy Usner.
As we journey through life and stop by the way, Don't forget the food breakfast we got at Begue. M. Adler.
There is certainly luck in odd numbers, And seven are here to-day; On April 7 we first met Sam, And seven we are at Begue's Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Hoadley.
An uncommonly fine breakfast. Captain Wm. H. Brownson, U. S. N.
He who wrote " the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" broke his fast with Begue and lost his heart. J. Herbert Ware, Chicago.
If the angels of Heaven Could return for a day, They'd spend it at breakfast With Madame Begue. P. M'Closkey.
Then here's to lifel we'll fill its years With naught of pain and sorrow; We'll laugh at death 'till death appears And leave care for the morrow; And clink our glasses round the board. Away all cares and fears, Our days of life are short and few- We're dead a million years. H. M. Brown, Milwaukee, Wis.
The survival of the fullest. Maclyne Arbuckle.
Fate cannot harm me. I have dined to-day And the cooking was done by Madame Begue. W. A. kellong, Louisville.
For the teeth and stomach of Porthos, I pray, To do justice to Madame Begue. Jos. Allyn Lynch.
I have "mouthed" it as many of our players do, or would wish to do. In grateful remembrance. Hencry Miller.
Tho' quite too full for utterance We still have strength to say, That all our days We'll sing the praise Of breakfast at Begue's. Frank S. Pixley.
With the Major and Billie, Abe, Sammy, and Jack, I'm here March 8th and I hope to come back. Otis Harlan.
Terms 100 per cent. A. L. Erlanger.
The poet says, man ner is, but always to be blessed. This is an error. Eat breakfast at Begue's and you are blessed. Henry L. Martin, Kentucky.
Regret that our breakfast Can't last until night; Your cauliflower, M'sieur, Is a thing out of sight. Give a man a good meal and his heart is yours. E. S. R.
The year is drawing to a close and so is this breakfast. I'm sorry. I wish the pleasure could continue forever. How I ate. Charles Reubens, Chicago.
Not all the books their criticisms waste; The The genius of a dish some justify taste and eat their way to fame. Begue is famous. Mr. And Mrs. Louis Lewis, New York.
Have had liver many ways, But never like 'twas at Begue's. Mrs. J.G. Smith, New York.
A queen of the kitchen is Madame Begue. As I know by the breakfast I've eaten to-day. S.M. Gaines, Fort Worth, Texas.
No matter what a fellow eats, Nor what a chap may say, Why, bless me Bub, there's nothing like A breakfast with Begue, WM. Murray, D.P.A. III. Cent, R.R., Chicago.
I have listed to the birds sing in the morning: I have trod the dew upon this lissom grass; I have kissed a maiden's lips without objecting, And have often tipped a merry social glass; But all the things I've tried and have accomplished, There is one to which I'll sing my little lay, And against the world with all of its allurments I will give the palm to breakfast with Begue. L.J. Parks.
My, but it was good. MABELLA BAKER.
"God supplies the food and the Devil the cooks," says an old adage. If 'tis true, Begue must have an awful pull with old Nick. C. B. LASTRET, San Francisco.
In olden times, when appetite
Ruled Nero and his court,
To sate the jaded epicure
Each clime was duly sought
In search of dainty edibles
For Rome's imperial king,
And when they'd serve up something new
He'd make the old world ring.
Ah, could the wraith of Nero come,
Lucullus by his side,
And view the luscious feast set forth-
They would they had not died;
For all the dainties Nero knew,
And which had gained his praise,
Would pale before the glories Of a breakfast at Begue's.
S. F. B. MORSE.
A breakfast indeed,
A feast for a king.
And such would not stint in his praise:
'Tis the finest I've "seed,"
And its echoes will ring
As long as I think of Begue's.
O. P. MCCARTY, Cincinnati, Ohio,
Res. A thing-taurus-bull,
Restaurant, a bully thing.
CHARLES ROSEN, New Orleans, La.
Eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we may die.
A. A. BRENNAN, Louisville, Ky.
Enjoy your life while your heart's blood circulates.
MR. & MRS. CHAS, FACH, St. Louis, Mo,
Here's to the hour, here's to the day.
We had a fine time down at Begue's.
MR. & MRS. WARREN EASTON, New Orleans, La.
"Old Hungry and her beau had breakfast at Begue this
morning:
"Lettuce (let us) eat and be merry" is her motto.
MRS. H. LONG, San Francisco.
Here's to that we cannot live with,
Nor which we cannot live without-woman.
HARRY A. MEAD. Chicago, IIl.
You may eat or sup or go where you will,
But the taste of Begue's stays with you still.
FORTER M. FLOYD, New York
The poetical effusion of my husband is more than realized through what we have had to-day at the hands of Monsieur and Mme. Begue.
ISABEL HENDERSON FLOYD, New York.
Well, say, if dey can beat this dey are dandys-here's to you Mme. Begue.
JOHN ROss.
If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. then "I am it."
FRANK SHARP, Chicago, III.
After a bad house last night the breakfast at Begue's confirms the old saying " Every cloud has a silver lining."
M. KING.
I've carried the hod, Been on the hog
And gone without many a meal;
But to get at this board,
My money I'll hoard
And make a terrible spiel.
PFIFSTY.
You may live without love,
You may live without cooks,
But civilized man can't live
Without cooks — and the best of cooks is Madam Begue.
PETER F. PESCUD, New Orleans, La.
My jewels are my family.
My pleasure is my friends,
I've eat such a breakfast I'm full of Amens.
W. F. ARMSTRONG.
Lucullus' feasts were rich and rare
And glorified the giver ;
But he had never seen our fare
Nor tasted Begue liver.
R. L. EMeRY.
To Madame Begue:
Oh! Mayest thou ever be what now thou art.
O. M. GEORGE.
In commemoration of two hours most pleasantly spent at mine host Begue's.
FRANK M. SwEET.
Did we have a good time?
Well, I should say
The morning we breakfasted with Mme. Begue.
PAULINE HARPER, New Orleans, La.
Last, but not least
We've had such a big feast.
CHAS. KUEBEL. New Orleans, La.
"A feast fit for the gods."
JAC H. STERN, New Orleans, La.
And I said to my heart "Let us drink our fill
Of life and sunshine, and Love and Laughter
For the Fates have ever a stronger will
And life is never the same life after."
ZETTA LEONTA VAN LYNDEN, San Francisco, Cal.
Three jolly good fellows from the Old North State,
On Sunday at Begue's had prepared for a bait;
The glorious Fourth is the date of the fate,
The names of the parties, Pool, Fair and Tate.
Fair got up early, Tate got up late,
Pool didn't get up at all
And so missed a skate.
W. A. FAIR, North Carolina.
"A Kouncil that will kater To the 'Pie and Potater'
Will be remembered to the End of Kreation."
A. P. MARMOUGET, New Orleans, La.
I hereby cast my vote for Begue as Minister of the Interior.
T. L. BAYNE, New Orleans, La.
I've traveled East,
I've traveled West,
I've traveled North,
I've traveled South,
And at Begue's I've had the best
Of viands for the mouth.
Long may he live and his
Genial Dame Whose help has added to his fame;
To give us food and give us wine,
To whom I give all praise of mine.
Jos. F. ScotT, Concord, Mass.
From over the hills and far away
To breakfast with Madam Begue.
T. TASSO FISHER, New York City.
All who would not be jays
Should take breakfast at Mada " Begue's.
CHAS. GRANT SHAFFER, Philadelphia, Pa.
There is a land so cold, where men live on beans and search for gold,
In the Klondyke, far away, we will ever remember the break-
fast at Begue's.
W. G. BREEN, JR.
To live in hearts we leave behind, is not to die,
This we can all truly say of Madam Begue.
W. S. ScoTT, Lexington, Ky.
We had anchovies, Oh, boysl such delicious fish,
Liver and omelette and turkey-dish after dish,
But I had to holler "nuff" as they came more and more,
When I was startled at observing the width of the door.
C. C. M., New Orleans, La.
Through all my days
I'll sing the praise
Of breakfast at Begue's.
HARRIET L. HARRIS.
But this I can say,
That of all famous chefs
None equals Begue's.
MRS. RAYMOND R. FRAZIER, Madison, Wis.
Two hungry steamboat men are we,
Chicago claims the one you see;
'Tis the other's first attempt to roam
Far from his distant Western home.
FRANCIS T. DWYER, Sacramento, Cal.
Everything was plain except the Royal Cooking.
MR. AND MRS. GERVAIS LOMBARD, New Orleans, La.
After breakfast with Madam Begue
One needs nothing more that day,
GORDON NEATHER, Canton, Ohio.
"Breathes there the man with appetite so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
Give me a piece of Begue's bread?'
MRs. SWART, Virginia.
Ol may my palate never fail
To relish thee — O woman snail,
And may I never start to kickin'
At second course of Creole chicken,
Or even disdain to take a sliver
Of Madam Begue's tender liver,
Nor will I ever more forget
The mem'ries of sweet omelette;
And now before the muses d-nbr>
Let' say a word about that lamb,
And let no man, in future, sneeze
At Begue's coffee and his cheese.
Jos. T. BRowN, JR.
The world is composed of two classes,
Those who live to eat and they who eat to live.
Could they all eat at Begue's
All the world would live o eat one of his breakfasts.
C. J. EDwArD, Abbeville. La.
He could never forget the haunts of his youth, especially if it be Begue's.
CHAS. B. STAFFORD.
A loaf of bread and a jug of wine
With friends like these
My wit should shine,
But if I say more I may do worse,
So sentiment true I'll leave to Morse.
W. B. KNISKERN.
Have looked for the "time of my life" for years
But never had it till I came here - thanks to you Begue.
J.R. EdwARDs.
I am a breakfast in, but a dollar out.
Still I feel that I received more than full value.
F. W. YoUNG.
My appetite was evidently intended for a longer man.
WM. L. BLuToN.
When in doubt, lead for the "liver" at Begue's.
D. A. MurrAY, New Orleans, La.
A beautiful morning,
A delightful company,
A charming, princely host,
A royal breakfast.
What more could mortal desire?
A. B. VOORIES, Cincinnati, Ohio.
"Then, when to the grave you gently bear me,
Forget the failing that was mine,
For God's sake set no bells ringing
Save in the tinkling of the cups of wine.
O. B. WARWICK, Capt. 18th Infantry.
(Since killed in the Philippines.)
I have eaten in many places
Food cooked by difierent races;
I have fully gone the paces
Only at Mme. Begue's.
WALLIs S. COLLINS.
The best ever, is at Begue'S
W. W. WALSH.
Eat, drink and be gay (Begue).
MRS. A. CUNNINGHaM.
Is it not better to eat than be eaten?
J.MCENENNY.
When out on a lark
On Begue's ship embark,
You will ascertain from the start
That he knows how to reach your heart.
L. D. O.
Monsieur Begue' et Madame Begue,
We'll come again to eat some day,
Since we leave your feast with fond regret;
Your dejeuner a la fourchette,
Your board is lavish, never measly,
As certified by Mrs. Beasly;
Your cuisine perfect, quite the pink
As can be proved by Mrs. Fink.
Who would not praise, would sure a cur be
So saith Mrs. and Miss Kirby.
Your artichokes were dreams, your meats were prime,
No judge is better than Mrs. Heim.
Our verse is done and we're quite lucky,
Our chaperones are two Mrs. Hucke.
JAS. B. HAYDEN, Topeka, Kan.
Happy in heart and life are those who dine at Begue's.
WILLIAM GILMORE, St. Louis, Mo.
With great satisfaction we start on our way,
For we've just had breakfast with the far-famed Begue;
The courses were many, the wine flowed free,
We tried to withstand it, but it was not to be.
Our appetites were poor, but the temptation so great
That we yielded up discretion for just one more play,
'Till all was exhausted, especially ourselves,
For Begue's breakfast for Nacchus had put us all on the
So we give three cheers for Begue-may his shadow never
Our heartfelt gratitude has gone out to him.
F. T. C., Chicago, III.
For a breakfast good and rare,
With Begue none can compare:
He's the Chef that has the best reputation of them all,
For when once you come within
The boundaries of his inn
You surely cannot fail to pay him another call.
GEORGE C. H. KERWIN.
The Frenchman loves his tri-color,
The Scotchman loves the thistle;
But what is there that we love more
Than Begue's grub and whistle.
JOHN I. GLOVER.
STOPPED HERE
I've lunched at Sherry's, dined at Del's And supped at Waldorf-Astoria, But a d- -n good breakfast at Begue's beats them all. C. E. Mc WILLIAMS. Come my pegasus, come my muse, Bring me brandy, cognac and chartreuse, We ate all we could and drank pousse cafe, And thought all the time of Madam Begue. SCOTT BONHAM. After finishing breakfast I'll venture to say That I never ate so much meat in a day, And no one can cook it like Madam Begue. EMILY MANSFIELD BUTLER, St. Louis, Mo. The view of Madame Begue's kitchen is as charming as her breakfast. EDw. G. BUTLER, St. Louis, Mo. What a time and what a day. HALLIDAY, New Orleans, La. What a place and what a spot. WILMOT, New Orleans, La. To Madam Begue From a country jay A compliment sincere. Good grub, good wine, New friends, good cheer, A happy, happy day. F. R. FRANK, New York City. We have heard a great deal of Madame Begue, And all we have heard has been proven today. MR. & MRs. T. W. BERRY, Chicago, Ill. The day that's gone can never come again, Though it be filled with sunshine or regret. W. H. MAY, Lexington, Ky. A bride and groom will always be gay after eating such a breakfast at Madam Begue's. ROBERT E. TAMMERSON, St. Louis, Mo. Good things for good people, From East, West and South; No flies in the tipple, So fill up your mouth. So here's to our party, So blithesome and gay, Fill up and eat hearty, For Parker must pay. One word now in parting, Remember it, prav, This same Dr. Parker We may have to pay. Then fill for a toast, No heel-taps will do, For our jolly young host, A friend tried and true. W. D. THORNTON. Then here's to the snails, So frisky and gay, If you will eat it, With you it will stay. And if you offend them And at you they bay, The police and the doctor Will chase them away. PARKER. Tom Dooley and the breakfast was O. K., And as he invited us to dine, He, Mr. & Mrs. Begue are d -n fine. MR. & MRs. A. J. SNyDER. You may talk and have plenty to say About the pleasure's you've had while away: But next to the delight of having husband to obey Was the breakfast he gave me at Begue's. MARIE E. WOLFE (12 yers married to-day). As long as the world has rolled, And longer too, methinks, Men have disputed o'er loves As o'er their drinks; But in their disputes I never bear a part, For receptive is my palate as is my heart, 'Till now the glorious maxim make, I mine, To love all women, drink all wine. J. H. DAPRAY, U.S. A., New Orleans, La. You may talk about the Spanish war, Free silver and Will Bryan, But the sweetest subject of them all Is Mrs. Rosine Ryan; But when it comes to cooking You cannot make mistake If to Begue you yield the palm, He surely takes the cake. Alack-a-day We can "Knott" stay To breakfast to-day With Madam Begue. Our boat's at the Quay And calls us away, So sad we obey, But return? Oh, yea. LILLIAN M. KNOTT. Though a stranger you be from home far away, If a feast you'd enjoy, stop with Madam Begue. J. Q. BUCKLE, Middletown, Ohio. For an elegant meal Just go to Begue's, No one else can come near them By a good long ways. E. M. N. You can never appreciate New Orleans withent a visit to Begue's. MAY L. FOSBURGH. After an evening's quiet hour and a good night's rest My breakfast at Begue's was by far the best. WM. L. RILEy, Chicago, III. I'm the happiest mortal living. on this brightest of summer days With the woman I love on the outside and breakfast inside at Begue's. C. H. GOODMAN, M. D., St. Louis, Mo. On a blustering March day We wended our way To partake of the feast of Aspasier Begue. •Tis a feast indeed that is fit for the Gods And greatly enjoyed by one of the "Clods." FRANK STEFFNER, Chattanooga, Tenn. D.o.e dull nile away On this Sunday. HNcafler 1'1I1~y ,,, ""'"e bank a"a,. A I ~rI ...fm}'paJ i'""f ~Ilolher S .. n~',n, r 8q:""",' LI '1 h, ? f'evu<.
\\-... :11 "",,;n til , I .. edar.
"in--? ..~ lu~c 'PIIT I <>. I 'Actll f IlJ Iti.,I;
\?-.",r_i __ "n.r~:~1 ,._R"Ur.
\'~~, c','ar'; I 1,,,;sl., "tV~r ~~h,
A!t"flili.. ! Ly )I Cable, George Washington. "Posson Jone'" and P�re Rapha�l: With a New Word Setting Forth How and Why the Two Tales Are One. Illus. Stanley M. Arthurs. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909. Google Books. Web. 27 Feb. 2012. <http://books. google.com/books?id=bzhLAAAAIAAJ>. Notes
Text prepared by:
Text prepared by:
Text prepared by:
Winter 2023-2024 Group:
Source