Changes

Once again, we’re coming back to ''Pan Tadeusz'', the 19th-century Polish national epic by Adam Mickiewicz. There’s still plenty of food and drink in this epic poem to discuss. In this series’ previous posts we focused on the first ten books, or chapters; now it’s time for the remaining two. There’s a&nbsp;considerable difference between books XI and XII, and the earlier parts of the epic. First, there’s a&nbsp;leap in time: books I to X are set within five days of the late summer of 1811; then we skip over all of autumn and winter, right into the spring of 1812 – a&nbsp;spring ``profuse “profuse with events, pregnant with hope"hope”,<ref>{{Cyt

}}, Book XI, verse 75</ref> as the poet reminisces. We can also observe a&nbsp;change in culinary terms: in the earlier books, the characters were having their everyday breakfasts, dinners and suppers that weren’t any different from those eaten by actual Polish nobility in the early 19th century – which was also what the poet could have remembered from his own youth. But in Book XI, the village of Soplicowo (pronounced: {{pron|saw|pleet|saw|vaw}}) is visited by the Polish soldiers serving in Napoleon’s ''Grande Armée'', on their way to Moscow. A&nbsp;great feast is given in their honour. Gen. Jan Henryk Dąbrowski (pronounced: {{pron|dawm|bRawf|skee}}, the guy the Polish national anthem is about) makes a&nbsp;request ``that “that for the fete, he would like Polish cooking."”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 107–108</ref> Therefore, the magnificent banquet consists of Old Polish dishes, whose names sounded foreign even in the ears of Mickiewicz himself – let alone in those of modern Poles! We’re going to have a&nbsp;closer look at the feast itself, as described in the epic’s final book, in [[Epic Cooking: The Last Old Polish Feast|the next post]]. But first, let’s take a&nbsp;peek inside the Soplicowo manor’s kitchen, managed by Tribune Hreczecha.

|"”<i>When {{...}} unexpectedly shot first a &nbsp;fly and, soon after, the Tribune's Tribune’s fly-swat.</i>"”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book II, verses 697–698</ref><br>{{small|From an illustration by Michał Elwiro Andriolli (1881)}}]]

Let’s start by saying a&nbsp;few words about the Tribune himself, one of the more colourful characters in ''Pan Tadeusz''. We don’t know his first name, but we do know that his surname was Hreczecha (pronounced: {{pron|HReh|cheh|Hah}}). ``Tribune" “Tribune” (Polish ''``wojski"“wojski”'', Latin ''``tribunus"“tribunus”'') was a&nbsp;medieval title, originally used by officials who took care of knights’ wives and children while their husbands were away at war; in Hreczecha’s case, it was an unofficial honorific awarded by the local gentry out of respect for the old man. He was a&nbsp;middle-income nobleman, also known as a&nbsp;''grykosiej'', or ``buckwheat“buckwheat-sower" sower” (in fact, Hreczecha’s own surname comes from ''``hrechka"“hrechka”'', the Belarusian word for buckwheat). Even though he had his own estate (he could afford to give his younger daughter, Tekla, a&nbsp;village in dowry), he preferred to live, along with Tekla, in the household of Judge Soplica, his more affluent friend, distant relative and might-have-been son-in-law (the Judge, in his youth, had been engaged to Marta, the Tribune’s elder daughter, but she died before the wedding could take place and he would never marry anyone else). In Soplicowo, the Tribune had the role of a&nbsp;kind of seneschal, managing the Judge’s domestic servants.

Earlier, the Tribune ``with “with gentry had spent his life, eating, at assemblies, {{...}} or at council meeting[s]"”,<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book V, verses 427–428</ref> where he mastered the ancient Lithuanian art of knife throwing. But it was in the realm of hunting that the Tribune was considered a&nbsp;real expert. He had learned this skill as a&nbsp;young man serving at the court of Tadeusz Rejtan, a&nbsp;Polish national hero. The Tribune remembered him not as a&nbsp;model patriot, though, but as a&nbsp;master hunter. As for his choice of game, he would always go for one of two extremes: on the one hand he believed that only large animals with horns, claws or fangs were worthy of being hunted by a&nbsp;nobleman. In his view, chasing hares was a&nbsp;good sport for youngsters and servants. ``Hreczecha “Hreczecha is my name – was his saying – since King Lech, it's it’s no habit of a &nbsp;single Hreczecha to follow a &nbsp;rabbit."”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book I, verses 816–817</ref> On the other hand, he was spending a&nbsp;lot of time hunting flies. He would always carry a&nbsp;flyswatter around and, when mushroom picking (a&nbsp;popular Polish pastime, then and now), [[Epic Cooking: The Decorous Rite of the Mushroom Hunt#Mushroom War|he would forage for fly agarics]], a&nbsp;species of fungus used for killing the pesky insects.

|<poem><i>``The “The Tribune, that the firewood more easily should

(In a &nbsp;well-to-do house such waste can be forgiven)."”</i><ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 133–135</ref>

Until slowly lulled into a &nbsp;calm reverie

| tytuł = Pan Tadeusz, or The Last Foray in Lithuania: A &nbsp;Tale of the Gentry during 1811-1812

In his formative years, which he most likely spent at some Jesuit school, the Tribune must have been made to read classic epics, such as Homer’s ''Iliad'' or Vergil Maro’s ''Aeneid''. He would later refer to the latter as ``my “my friend Maro"Maro”,<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book IV, verse 977</ref> even though he probably knew the ''Aeneid'' ’s plot from scholars’ commentaries rather than from the epic itself. Mickiewicz too, no doubt, had to read the same classics, in their 18th-century Polish translations, as a&nbsp;schoolboy. And while he didn’t think very highly of these translations’ poetic value, they must have left a&nbsp;deep impression on his memory. Take, for example, this excerpt from Book XI of ''Pan Tadeusz'':

|<poem><i>``What “What the Tribune's Tribune’s perusal makes known, without fail the skilled cooks at once carry all out to the letter."”</i><ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 126–127</ref>

| <poem>[The Tribune] held a &nbsp;fly-swat, and with it drove back

Drew a &nbsp;book from his bosom, unwrapped it, and read.

In a&nbsp;footnote, Mickiewicz adds that it’s ``now “now a &nbsp;very rare book, published over a &nbsp;hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki."”<ref name=obj>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Poet's Poet’s explanatory notes, own translation</ref> And this is where it gets tricky. A&nbsp;Polish cookbook entitled ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Excellent Cook'' or ''The Perfect Cook'', depending on how you translate it) did exist, but it was first published only in 1783, which was less than half a&nbsp;century rather than ``over “over a &nbsp;hundred years" years” before ''Pan Tadeusz''. What’s more, it wasn’t written by Stanisław Czerniecki (pronounced: {{pron|stah|nee|sWahf}} {{pron|chehr|nyet|skee}}). It was actually ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon, translated into Polish and published by Wojciech Wielądko (pronounced: {{pron|voy|cheH}} {{pron|vyeh|lawnt|kaw}}), a&nbsp;man who otherwise had little to do with catering business. All the Tribune would have found there were French culinary novelties rather than time-honoured Old Polish recipës.

|''``Now “Now a &nbsp;very rare book, published over a &nbsp;hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki."”''<ref name=obj/><br>{{small|A copy of ''Compendium ferculorum'' by Stanisław Czerniecki opened on the author's author’s dedication to Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska}}]]

Besides, it wasn’t only the recipës that Mickiewicz took from the ''Compendium''. The mention of the dinner given by the ``Count “Count of Tęczyn" Tęczyn” to Pope Urban VIII in Rome was also inspired by the same cookbook, and specifically, by the dedication its author addressed to his employer, Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska. Princess Lubomirska, the wife of Prince Aleksander Michał Lubomirski, took active part in Polish political life; she was also a&nbsp;great patroness of arts. Wacław Potocki and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, whom I have quoted in some of my previous posts, dedicated their poems to her, while Czerniecki did the same with his cookbook. In the dedication, he recalled the time when, in 1633, her father, Prince Jerzy Ossoliński, Grand Chancellor of the Crown (roughly equivalent to a&nbsp;prime minister), was sent by the king of Poland as an envoy to the Holy See. At the time, the Polish Commonwealth was at the peak of its might and glory, a&nbsp;fact Ossoliński was not going to let anyone fail to notice. His retinue included the famed winged hussars, crimson-and-gold-upholstered carriages, ten camels carrying opulent presents for the pope, while the prince’s mount was dressed in diamonds, pearls and rubies, and deliberately shod with loose golden horseshoes – so that the horse could lose them along the way for everyone to see. The banquet which Ossoliński gave to the pope was without a&nbsp;doubt no less osstentatious. This is how Czerniecki described it:

|''``This “This Roman legation was described and depicted multiple times."”''<ref name=obj/><br>{{small|Etching by Stefano della Bella (1633)}}]]

| Adam suggested to give a &nbsp;purely Polish-Lithuanian feast, according to ancient recipës from “The Perfect Cook”, a &nbsp;tattered old book which he carries around like some treasure in his travelling library and often reads with great pleasure. Obviously, this idea fell through {{...}}

|''``The “The volume was entitled: ''The Excellent Cook'', every known Polish dish was writ down in this book…"book…”''<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 117–118</ref><br>{{small|Title page of ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Perfect Cook'') by Wojciech Wielądko}}]]

Or a &nbsp;feast even, bah, for Napoleon ordain.

| tytuł = ``Pieśni “Pieśni ogromnych dwanaście..."dwanaście…”: Studia i&nbsp;szkice o&nbsp;"Panu Tadeuszu"Tadeuszu”

| rozdział = ``Zabytek “Zabytek drogi prawych zwyczajów" zwyczajów” – o&nbsp;książce kucharskiej, którą czytywał Mickiewicz

There’s nothing random about this Greater Poland connection. This region of western Poland is where Mickiewicz stayed for a&nbsp;few months in 1831, while an anti-Russian uprising was raging in the Russian partition of Poland. He wished to join the insurgency, but the border between Russian and Prussian partitions was guarded so well that he got stuck in Greater Poland, that is, on the Prussian side. The uprising had been long quelled when Mickiewicz was still visiting the noble manors of the Prussian partition, sightseeing, romancing and writing poetry. Many of the details of everyday life, allegedly typical for Lithuanian nobility, that you will find in ''Pan Tadeusz'' are actually the result of the observations the poet made in Greater Poland. And his precious cookbook – ``a “a dear souvenir of righteous customs"customs”, as he wrote in the deleted passage – really did once belong to an Antoni Poniński, who gifted it to Ludwik Skórzewski and whose widow, Honorata Skórzewska, gave it as a&nbsp;present to… no, not to Bartek Dobrzyński, but to Mickiewicz himself, while he was a&nbsp;guest at Kopaszewo.<ref>{{Cyt

|<poem><i>``Among “Among the smoke's smoke’s coils, like a &nbsp;white mother-dove, the white cap of the head-chef flashed, gleaming, above."”</i><ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 407–408</ref>{{small|Detail of a &nbsp;painting by Wandalin Strzałecki (1884)}}</poem>]]

Take a &nbsp;seat by the range and work hard at the bellows.</poem>

So there was one master chef (with the Tribune in this role, obviously), commanding five cooks, who, in turn, shouted orders to scullions, who were doing all the dirty work. If fifty knives were clattering at the same time, then there must have been at least ten scullions to every cook. The Tribune, meanwhile, was just standing in the middle, reading the recipës aloud and making sure they were ``carried “carried all out to the letter"letter”: take, chop, pour, boil, take, chop, pour, boil…

| <poem>As the chef, a &nbsp;white apron he tied round his waist, Pushed his sleeves to his elbows, a &nbsp;white nightcap placed

Again, the white apron didn’t just spring out of the poet’s imagination, for Master Chef Hrechecha is taken straight out of the ``Instruction “Instruction for the Master Chef" Chef” contained in ''Compendium Ferculorum''. It reads as follows:

| The master chef should keep his cooks obedient, honest, sober and tidy. {{...}} And he should be setting an example himself, by being neat and clean, sober, attentive, loyal and, most of all, dedicated to his lord and brisk. {{...}} A &nbsp;cook should be tidy, his hair combed, face clean-shaven, hands well-scrubbed, fingernails trimmed, and wearing a &nbsp;white apron; he should be sober, mild-tempered, submissive, quick, well-versed in matters of taste, {{...}} and, above all, willing to serve everyone.

By the way, it’s quite telling that the word ``sober" “sober” appears three times in this instruction. It seems that the stereotypical cook of Old Polish times had a&nbsp;tendency to tipple a&nbsp;little too much. The Reverend Jędrzej Kitowicz, as always, describes the problem in a&nbsp;most vivid way:

[[File:Küchenmeister Italien 17 Jh.jpg|thumb|''``When “When the cook called for wine, he was telling the truth when he said he needed it for the tongue – but for his own, not for the tongue of beef."”''<ref>{{Cyt

But in the ideally idyllic Soplicowo this would have been unthinkable. Here everything worked like a&nbsp;charm. If a&nbsp;``perfect cook" “perfect cook” ever existed, then it must have been none other than Tribune Hreczecha himself. The effect? A&nbsp;perfect Old Polish-Lithuanian banquet, just as Mickiewicz dreamed it, but realised only on the pages of ''Pan Tadeusz''.

| <poem>Two things a &nbsp;generous lord to a &nbsp;feast can impart,

Plenty there was for sure. The Tribune even allowed to pour melted butter on wood, so it would burn brighter. The choice of meats and fishes could make your head spin. It wasn’t just plenty, it was excess – which wasn’t exactly avoided at lordly banquets. Czerniecki maintained that ''``melius “melius abundare quam deficere"deficere”'', or ``it's “it’s always better to have too much than too little."”<ref>S. Czerniecki, ''op. cit.'', s. 44</ref> This is how he explained this attitude:

| It is the master chef’s duty {{...}} not to overspend, although a &nbsp;certain degree of overspending is needed, as it highlights the host’s generosity. According to an old proverb, it’s better to incur a &nbsp;thaler’s worth of loss than a &nbsp;halfpenny’s worth of embarrassment. A &nbsp;skilled chef should keep this in mind, not to disgrace his lord with foolish parsimony.

[[File:Czerniecki do czytelnika.jpg|thumb|''``Among “Among the attributes of human nature there is love for diverse flavours…"flavours…”''<ref>S. Czerniecki, ''op. cit.'', s. [{{small|VIII}}]</ref><br>{{small|An excerpt of the original (1682) edition of ''Compendium Ferculorum''}}]]

| rozdział = Jerzy Ossoliński's Ossoliński’s legacy to Rome in 1633

| tytuł = ``Pieśni “Pieśni ogromnych dwanaście…"dwanaście…”: Studia i&nbsp;szkice o&nbsp;"Panu Tadeuszu"Tadeuszu”

| tytuł = ``Pieśni “Pieśni ogromnych dwanaście…"dwanaście…”

| rozdział = Kilka uwag o&nbsp;Wojskim w&nbsp;świetle autografów ``Pana Tadeusza"“Pana Tadeusza”

| tytuł = ``Pieśni “Pieśni ogromnych dwanaście…"dwanaście…”

| rozdział = ``Zabytek “Zabytek drogi prawych zwyczajów" zwyczajów” – o&nbsp;książce kucharskiej, którą czytywał Mickiewicz