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Updated: July 14, 2025
Hercule that is my husband's name, citizens asked the corporal what the Committee of Public Safety wanted with us poor hoteliers of a wayside inn. "Only food and shelter for to-night for me and my men," replied the corporal, quite civilly. "You can rest here," said Hercule, and he pointed to the benches in the coffee-room, "and if there is any soup left in the stockpot, you are welcome to it."
One night there was a grand banquet, for Beppe had turned in, bearing under his long cloak a prime conditioned tom-cat, whose disconcerted mews were rapidly ended by a dexterous twist of the neck, and whose plump person was before long stewing in wine and vinegar in the Tocsin stockpot, after his liver had been previously fried for the private consumption of the ever-hungry Beppe.
The same writer's narrative of the French deserters who, under a leader nicknamed Marshal Stockpot, established themselves as freebooters in a convent not far from Masséna's headquarters at Santarem, and of the general's swift, condign punishment of such conduct, graphically delineates the straits of the French, which led them into the extreme courses that devastated the land, but it also displays the quality of the discipline which was exercised whenever possible.
"Come and have a drink," I said, slipping my arm through his, "and tell me all about it." He disengaged himself from me, firmly but gently. "You mean well, sir," he said, "but I have given up the drink." Evidently he would have been rid of me, but a literary man, scenting material for his stockpot, is not easily shaken off. I asked after the old folks, and if they were still stopping with him.
That at least was the character of contemplation she intended, but though she was so young that she believed the enjoyment of any sensory impression sheer waste unless it was popped into the mental stockpot and made the basis of some sustaining moral soup, she found herself just looking at him.
Put all these pieces on a dish, and set it by till the broth is ready. To prepare the broth, put on a large stockpot, and line the bottom of it with a pound and a half of lean ham, cut into slices. Cut into pieces a large leg of veal, except a pound of the fillet to be reserved for forcemeat; put the rest upon the ham, with all the white meat of the turtle, and a couple of old fowls.
For one middle-class gentlewoman who understands anything about cookery, or who really cares for it as a scientific art or domestic necessity, there are ten thousand who do not; yet our mothers and grandmothers were not ashamed to be known as deft professors, and homes were happier in proportion to the respect paid to the stewpan and the stockpot.
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