acknowledged, at least by silent rapture, that
there is nothing so succulent, so sustaining, or
that relishes a pot of Stout or a bottle of Chablis,
so much as a well-fed oyster, whether Colchester,
Carlingford, or Cancale were the cradle of its
earliest existence. But "eaten bread is soon
forgotten." The tribute paid to the physical
excellence of the illustrious Pecten cannot wipe
away the enduring reproach which has been
hurled at it of intellectual inferiority. "As
stupid as an oyster " is a proverbial expression
amongst ourselves; and in France, where they
ought to know better, they say, to express the
same thing, " C'est une huître à Pécaille."
They tell a person whose mental faculties they
wish to depreciate, that he " argues like an
oyster;" and with all the vivacity which Frenchmen
exhibit when their money is at stake, they
vex the soul of the player whom they have
backed at " écarté," by eagerly informing him
that he " plays like an oyster." The Italians,
also, in a servile spirit of imitation, similarly
insult the Oyster by applying to her the words
"babbaccione " and " stupidaccia." Let me
hope, when Italy is a perfectly free and united
nation, that she will in this respect amend her
proverbs.

When I say that the French, above all people,
"ought to know better," I refer to the
well-known fable of their countryman La Fontaine,
who, in his pleasant way, relates that in the
adventure of the Rat and the Oyster, it was the
long-whiskered rodent that was taken in and not
the bearded bivalve, who plainly showed that he,
at all events, was no fool, when he caught the
rat in his yawning trap. Monkeys, it is true,
deal with oysters in a somewhat similar fashion,
but with a very different result: when they
find an oyster gaping, they insert the tip of
their tails, and on the valves closing they
make for the dry land with all speed, dragging
behind them the prize which they soon find a
way to get at and devour.

To be done in this manner arises, however,
from a simple defect, not so much of
understanding as of eyesight; for Nature, who has
endowed the animal with most of the appurtenances
of a fish—such as mouth, beard, gills,
stomach, heart, liver, pulse, veins, and muscles—
has cruelly deprived it as well of a head as of
the organs of vision and locomotion. As to the
fact of the Oyster having no head, that is of little
consequence: for Michelet, speaking of certain
molluscs which are so furnished, says that many of
that family lose their heads with impunity. Their
vitality lies in the viscera, and these they take
the greatest care of. Yet the stepmother-like
privation, of denying it locomotion, has been
made the groundwork of the accusation under
which the Oyster labours, of stupidity, as if it
would not get out of the dredger's way if it had
the means of doing so, with sufficient rapidity.
Cuvier tells us of a species of Oyster that is
able to move itself by violently opening and
shutting its shell; and in Pliny's Natural
History, we read as follows: "A man would not
think, neither is it likely, that the Oisters in the
sea do heave, and yet upon any noise and sound
their manner is to sink down to the bottome.
And therefore when as men fish for them in the
sea they are as silent as may be." And Pliny
justifies this attribute of astuteness by the
following remark on the sentient faculty of
Oysters: " There is not a living creature throughout
the world but hath the sense of feeling,
though it have none else; for even Oisters and
earth-worms, if a man hurt them, doe evidently
feele." A later authority, Dr. Carpenter, gives
the oyster credit for enough eyesight (without
eyes), to be susceptible of the influence of light.
They have been observed, he says, to close their
shells when the shadow of a boat passes over them.

Observant naturalist as Pliny was, we know
a little more than he did about the feelings of
Oysters. We have heard—- Tilburina (who was
herself a victim of the tender passion, and went
mad for it in white satin) has told us—that
"an Oyster may be crossed in love;" and
in the Annual Register for eighteen hundred
and two, we find this practical comment on
the lady's statement: " The advantage which
has resulted from crossing the breed of cattle
has induced a like experiment upon Oysters,
and an extensive dealer in Kent lately
imported several tons of Carlingford and other
celebrated Irish Oysters, which he laid down in
the beds of the best English natives, about
Milton, Faversham, and Whitstable. The effect
of this union has greatly exceeded his expectations,
the produce being greater; than heretofore,
and of considerably improved flavour."
How far the improvement of the Oyster breed
by human agency may bear out the assertion of
Tilburina is a question which (as critics
discuss; but while on the subject of the Oyster's
amatory propensities, I must advert to a
disparaging remark which Shakespeare puts into the
mouth of Benedict: " Love," says the resolute
bachelor, "may transform me to an Oyster;
but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an
Oyster of me he shall never make me such a fool."

Another lover of celebrity, Robert Burns,
desires to emulate the Oyster. "There are only
two creatures," he says, " that I would envy—
a horse in his wild state, traversing the forests of
Asia, and an Oyster on some of the desert shores
of Europe: the one has not a wish without
enjoyment, the other has neither wish nor fear."
Now, although this passage may seem to imply
torpidity on the part of the Oyster (unless you
suppose her thoroughly blasée), there has not
been wanting one profound writer to make it
the occasion of taxing the fair mollusc with the
sin that o'erthrew the angels. "When,"
observes a solemn Quarterly Reviewer, while no
doubt settling his tremendous wig and stiffening
his neck in his starched cravat—" when such a
sentiment is breathed by such a being, the
lesson is awful; and if pride and ambition
were capable of being taught" (by the Wild
Horse and the Oyster?), " they might hence learn
that a well-regulated mind and controlled
passions are to be prized above all the glow of