There was a saying, current many years ago, that "the French have a hundred sauces and one religion, while the English are a nation of a hundred religions and one sauce." This friendly gibe has lost its point, for while the French have retained their hundred sauces, and even added to the number, they have come near to losing - if they have not lost -their one religion; while the English, with their tale of religions undiminished, have, thanks to their French neighbors, given kindly welcome to more than ten times one hundred sauces, and made it difficult to trace the one which used to reign in solitary state.

A Simple Dish Of Dessert.

And this remarkable change dates from that significant period - the early days last century - when, balked of our subjugation by the sword, the gallant Frenchmen came, saw and conquered us with a force comprised of but two enterprising chefs, armed with nothing more warlike than their toasting-forks and brains-marie!

Louis Eustache Ude and Alexis Soyer were the names of the doughty ones, and while both achieved fame in their day, it was given only to Alexis Soyer to have his name lastingly engraved on the Scroll of Fame.

"The impression grows on us," said The Globe, in a burst of enthusiasm, "that the man of the age is neither Sir Robert Peel, nor Lord John Russell, nor even Ibrahim Pacha, but Alexis Soyer."

"Soyer has taught us to eat not to appease hunger, but to elevate the soul," said The Times in 1847, whilst George Augustus Sala, with a magnanimity the more remarkable because he so seldom praised, wrote of his one-time patron: -"He was, in more than one sense, a public benefactor, and won the respect of all by a great capacity for organization, and by the manliness, simplicity, and uprightness of his character."

Born in 1809 at Miaux-en-Brie, Soyer was destined by his parents for the service of the Church, but the life ecclesiastical proved not to his taste, so in 1820 he went to Paris, and was apprenticed to a cook at Grignon. He quickly rose to be head of the kitchen, but coquetted with the idea of qualifying as an actor on the comic stage. But steady promotion and his brother's entreaties taught him that as chef he might combine his fancies, tickling the wit of his patrons while he tickled their palate; and so in 1821, he was appointed second-in-command of the Foreign Office Kitchen in Paris, an appointment not without danger, for during the same year the Revolutionaries forced their way into the apartment of pots and pans, butchering the staff, and it was only by promptly and ostentatiously chanting the Marseillaise that young Soyer escaped unhurt though frightened.

He discovered that Paris was too warm, even for a chef, so came to London, joining his brother in the kitchens of the Duke of Cambridge, followed by appointments with the Duke of Sutherland and the Marquis of Waterford; after which he took service with Mr. Lloyd, of Aston Hall, Oswestry, a generous patron who was subsequently instrumental in installing the young Frenchman as chef of the Reform Club.

The Coronation Breakfast, given at the Club to two thousand notable guests, proved the stuff of which the young chef was made, and from that moment he was famous.

The kitchens at the Reform Club - designed by Soyer -excited the wonder of the world, and brought a constant stream of visitors, who departed marveling at the completeness of detail displayed and chuckling over the witticisms of the chef.

His fame increased until scarcely any gastronomic function of importance was projected without first consulting him.

This is no place to write at length of his romantic marriage with Emma Jones, the young Welsh artist - the "English Murillo," as she was called - although the manner of his wooing and the fashionable wedding at St. George's, Hanover Square, are tempting themes; nor may we dwell on the loss sustained by her husband and the artistic world when Madame Soyer died in 1842. It is sufficient to say that while her life was an inspiration to her husband, her death marked the turning-point in his career.

He realized that basking in the smiles of high-born dames was not the summum-bonum of existence; and with the idea that the wealthy might well be left to take care of themselves, he began to devote his attention to the cookery methods of the multitudes, and resigned his position at the Reform Club because, said he: - "through the stone walls of that edifice I could not gain the slightest knowledge of cottage life."

The terrible Irish Potato Famine gave him an opportunity to put his philanthropic ideas into practice, and just when the peasants were dying by hundreds, he went over to Ireland and personally superintended schemes which he had formulated for the immediate alleviation of distress and want.

Public soup-kitchens were erected - the whole plan of which was the product of Soyer's fertile brain, as was also the elaborate system whereby thousands of the poor were marshalled, fed and dismissed in a few hours. At this juncture he published Charitable Cookery, at the price of 6d., part of the proceeds of the sale going to a fund which had been opened for the relief of the poor.

The Great Exhibition in Hyde Park gave him a further opportunity for the display of his peculiar talents. He took Gore House, late the residence of the Countess of Plessington, and turned it into a vast restaurant which he called "Soyer's Symposium, a Restaurant for all Nations," providing thousands of meals per day at popular prices, the menus ranging from those suited to modest purses to those which cost many guineas. It was at this time that he commissioned the young G. A. Sala to paint on the grand staircase a panorama which was entitled "The Grand Macedoine of all Nations; being a Demisemitragicomipanodicosmopolytolyofanofunniosymposio-rama, or Suchagettingupstairstothegreatexhibition of 1851," much to the artist's annoyance, who was, even in those early days, of a somewhat irascible temperament. Soyer spent a fortune on this project, and came out of it "with exactly £100 in the whole world," a reversal of fortune for which he was not prepared, and which was, in a measure, due to grandmotherly and high-handed interference from the authorities.