I will now try to answer M. Hugo’s question concerning “these blasphemies of creation against itself”—“Of what use are such creatures? What purpose do they serve?”
It must not be supposed that in mentioning a few facts relative to their economic value to mankind I consent to the narrow and conceited doctrine that, either by laws fixed from the beginning, or by successive fiats of creation, they were especially provided for the future advantage of the human race. Many genera of them, which formed no unimportant portion of the fauna of the ancient seas, lived and died, and their families became extinct, ages upon ages before man’s appearance on the earth. He has, it is true, utilised them to a certain extent, and in various ways. In some parts of the world they are a recognised addition to the food supply of the population; and, in others, the means by which fishes more valuable than themselves are obtained, and become marketable produce. But that this is the sole object of their being, I cannot for a moment suppose; and therefore I am content to believe that the Great Architect of the Universe made them and all things for Himself, and that for His pleasure they are and were created.
Although the cephalopods are seldom eaten in Great Britain, they are appreciated as food by nearly all other maritime nations. Along the western coast of France, and in the countries bordering on the Mediterranean and Adriatic, they form a portion of the habitual sustenance of the people, and are regularly exposed for sale in the markets, both in a fresh and dried condition. Saltedcuttles and octopus are there eaten during Lent as commonly as salted cod are brought to table in England on Good Friday; and, thus prepared, generally form a portion of the provisions supplied to the Greek fishing boats and coasters.[23]The Indians of North-WesternAmerica look upon them as the proverbial alderman regards turtle, and devour them with the same gusto and relish;only the savage roasts the glutinous carcase, instead of making soup of it. In Chili, Peru, Brazil, and Teneriffe, they are eagerly sought for; and they are an article of daily consumption in India and China, and especially in Japan, where there is a very important trade in them. Professor Edward Forbes[24]relates his experience of the use of them by the Greeks:—
“The traveller who, when treading the shores of the coasts and islands of the Ægean, observes, as he can scarcely fail to do, the innumerable remains of the hard parts of cuttle-fishes piled literally in heaps along the sands—or, when watching the Greek fishermen draw their nets, marks the number of these creatures mixed up with the abundance of true fishes taken and equally prized as articles of food by the captors—can at once understand why the naturalists of ancient Greece should have treated so fully of the history of the cephalopoda, and its poets have made allusions to them as familiar objects. One of the most striking spectacles at night on the coasts of the Ægean is to see the numerous torches glancing along the shores, and reflected by the still and clear sea, borne by poor fishermen paddling as silently as possible over the rocky shallows in search of the cuttle-fish, which, when seen lying beneath the waters in wait for his prey, they dexterously spear, ere the creature has time to dart with the rapidity of an arrow from the weapon about to transfix his soft but firm body. As in ancient times, these molluscs constitute, now, a valuable part of the food of the poor, by whom they are chiefly used. We can ourselves bear testimony to their excellence. When well beaten, to render the flesh tender, before being dressed, and then cut up into morsels and served in a savourybrown stew, they make a dish by no means to be despised, excellent in both substance and flavour. A modern Lycian dinner, in which stewed cuttle-fish formed the first, and roast porcupine the second course, would scarcely fail to be relished by an unprejudiced epicure in search of novelty.”
I have tasted the octopus, sepia, and loligo, and am quite of Professor Forbes’s opinion that they are very palatable when really well cooked. They are all the better for being dressed with made gravy, but may be eaten plainly boiled, and served with egg-sauce. They are apt, however, to be very tough unless slowly simmered, and should first be well beaten with a wooden mallet or the flat of a cleaver. At Gibraltar, the Spanish fishermen may frequently be observed engaged in softening an octopus by dashing it several times with great violence on the stone landing steps at the fish-market.[25]The flavour is not unlike that of the skate, or the white part of a scallop. A writer in the “Echo” called the flesh of the octopus “a sort of marine tripe, the chief merit of which lay in the sauce in which it was served.” I am inclined to agree with him.
To many persons who have not, like the Greeks, been accustomed from childhood to regard it as a delicacy, the appearance of an octopus, alive or dead, is very revolting; and I admit that its boiled carcase, put before one in unadorned simplicity, is not appetizing.
I shall never forget the utter loathing, ludicrously mingled with determination to conquer or conceal that feeling, which was depicted on the countenances of some of the guests at a memorable “octopus-lunch” given by my friend Sir John Cordy Burrows at Brighton, in 1874.
His cook had never before prepared an octopus, and was, probably, not well pleased to do so then. The nasty-looking object was placed on the table in all its undisguised ugliness. Its skin, which in the process of boiling had become lividly purple, and had not been removed, was in places offensively broken and abraded; and its arms, shrivelled and shrunk, sprawled helplessly on the dish, and, somehow, looked, as they proved to be, as tough and ropy as so many thongs of hunting-whips. Our genial host saw in an instant that it was a failure in cookery, but, as usual, he was equal to the occasion. With a twinkle of his eye he “took a sly glance at me,” and gravely handed a portion of the octopus to an honoured guest. “Now, sir,” said he, “just taste that, and enjoy one of the luxuries of the ancient Greeks!” The ancient Greeks were, as it seemed to me, mentally anathematized; but the plate was accepted, its contents earnestly scanned, the knife and fork just brought into contact with the viand, and then all were thrust hastily away. A gallant colonel, who would probably be in “the first flight” across country, and would not hesitate to lead a charge of his regiment, also “craned” at his plate, and declined to taste the “luxury.” Sir Cordy then looked to me as his “forlorn hope.” With the air of a veteran and connoisseur I helped him and myself to some of the most approved portions of the leathery creature. Manfully and perseveringly for some minutes I tried to masticate a mouthful of it, but it was useless;and feeling that if human teeth could make no more impression on it than on the sole of an old boot, the human stomach incurred risk of difficulties which all the well-known medical skill of our good host might be unable to cure, I declined to sacrifice myself to an idea, and——; well, I did not swallow it.
The octopus had not been beaten. We were! I afterwards saw this little private experiment seriously described in a newspaper paragraph, which was extensively quoted, as an endeavour to introduce to the public a new and valuable article of marketable food.
In my opinion, the squid, or sleeve (Loligo), is the best of the three. Rondeletius recommends their being dressed with oil and vinegar. On the Normandy coast they are boiled with onions and other vegetables, the liquor being saved as good stock for soup. At Marseilles they are stuffed with dried tendrils of the vine. The Chinese and Japanese prefer them seasoned with vinegar and ginger, and attribute to the flesh various medicinal properties. In Mauritius and the neighbouring islands they are generally curried.
The various genera of cuttle-fishes were held in high estimation by the ancients; and it was a custom of the Greeks to send them out as presents on the fifth day after the birth of a child, and before giving it a name. At the nuptial feast of Iphicrates, who married the daughter of Cotys, King of Thrace, a hundred polypi and sepiæ were served. The Greek epicures prized them most when they contained “roe,” and had them cooked with highly seasoned sauces. The Lacedæmonians boiled them entire, and were not disgusted by the black froth formed by their inky liquor diffusing itself in the water.
In “The Deipnosophists” of Athenæus are numerous quotations from older writers relating to the use, as food, of the various kinds of cuttle-fishes. Athenæus, who was an Egyptian, born in Naucratis, a town on the left side of the Canopic mouth of the Nile, lived and wrote in the first half of the third century. He appears to have been imbued with a great love of learning, in the pursuit of which he indulged in the most extensive andmultifarious reading. His “common-place book” must have been a marvel of industrious annotation and careful record, for he has saved from oblivion, by his extracts from their writings, many authors whose works have been long ago lost, and of whose existence future generations would have been unaware, if he, by his faithful and pains-taking acknowledgment of his indebtedness to them, had not handed them down to posterity. He devotes many chapters to the history of festive entertainments, and the dishes served at banquets of the old Romans and Greeks; and by his collection from numerous authors of passages, some of which contain but a few words, and were probably regarded by their contemporaries as of fugitive interest, has given us an insight of the elaborate preparations made for dinner-parties, and the appreciation of artistic cookery bygourmetsin those days. Some of our household cooks in this nineteenth century would “give warning” instantly if asked to get ready for table for their master’s friends such a profuse variety of dishes. Course followed course in skilfully arranged sequence, all intended to tempt the palate, or supposed to possess some medicinal or stomachic virtue, and presenting, in their combination, a feast compared with which our lord mayor’s dinners are unrefined in their mere plenty. In all important entertainments, public or private, the cuttle-fishes of the Mediterranean were highly esteemed as delicacies, and were as well known and regularly looked for in themenuas are salmon and turbot at similar gatherings now. In the following extracts from the notebook of Athenæus, by the “polypus” is meant theOctopus, by the “cuttle-fish” theSepia, and by the “squid” or “squill,” the genus represented by ourLoligo.
Plato, the comic poet, mentioning in his “Phaon” the banquet of Philoxenus the Leucadian, says:—
“Good-sizedpolypusin season,Should be boiled—to roast them’s treason,But if early, and not big,Roast them; boiled ar’n’t worth a fig.”
“Good-sizedpolypusin season,Should be boiled—to roast them’s treason,But if early, and not big,Roast them; boiled ar’n’t worth a fig.”
“Good-sizedpolypusin season,
Should be boiled—to roast them’s treason,
But if early, and not big,
Roast them; boiled ar’n’t worth a fig.”
Alexis, in his “Pseudypobolemæus,” writes:—
Take the stiff feelers of thepolypus,And with them you shall find some modest liverAnd cutlets of wild goats, which you shall eat.
Take the stiff feelers of thepolypus,And with them you shall find some modest liverAnd cutlets of wild goats, which you shall eat.
Take the stiff feelers of thepolypus,
And with them you shall find some modest liver
And cutlets of wild goats, which you shall eat.
The eggs of the octopus and sepia were also regarded as dainties. Hegemon of Thasos thus refers to them in his “Philuma:”—
Go quickly! buy me of thatpolypus,And fry theroe, and give it us to eat.
Go quickly! buy me of thatpolypus,And fry theroe, and give it us to eat.
Go quickly! buy me of thatpolypus,
And fry theroe, and give it us to eat.
But to fry octopus was not, by some, considered good cooking. Nicostratus of Philetærus says, in the “Antyllus:”—
I never again will venture to eat cuttle-fish which has been dressed in a frying-pan.
I never again will venture to eat cuttle-fish which has been dressed in a frying-pan.
They ate heartily at breakfast in those times, it seems, for Epicharmus tells us in “The Sirens:”—
In the morning early, at the break of day,We roasted plump anchovies,Cutlets of well-fed pork andpolypi;And then we drank sweet wine.
In the morning early, at the break of day,We roasted plump anchovies,Cutlets of well-fed pork andpolypi;And then we drank sweet wine.
In the morning early, at the break of day,
We roasted plump anchovies,
Cutlets of well-fed pork andpolypi;
And then we drank sweet wine.
Philoxenus, the poet of Cythera, is reported to have been a very greedy man. He wished that he had a throat three cubits long, that he might drink as long as possible, and that his food might all at once delight him. Machon, the comic poet, relates how his fondness for well-cooked octopus and his insatiate gluttony caused his death:—
They say Philoxenus, the ancient poetOf Dithyrambics, was so wonderfullyAttached to fish, that once at SyracuseHe bought a polypus two cubits long,Then dress’d it, and then ate it up himself,All but the head—and afterwards fell sick,Seized with a sharp attack of indigestion.Then when some doctor came to him to see himWho saw that he was greatly out of order;“If,” said the doctor, “you have any businessNot well arranged, do not delay to settle it,For you will die before six hours are over!”Philoxenus replied, “All my affairs,O Doctor, are well ended and arrangedLong, long ago; but now, since deadly fateCalls me away, who can’t be disobeyed,That I may go below with all my goods,Bring me the relics of that polypus!”
They say Philoxenus, the ancient poetOf Dithyrambics, was so wonderfullyAttached to fish, that once at SyracuseHe bought a polypus two cubits long,Then dress’d it, and then ate it up himself,All but the head—and afterwards fell sick,Seized with a sharp attack of indigestion.Then when some doctor came to him to see himWho saw that he was greatly out of order;“If,” said the doctor, “you have any businessNot well arranged, do not delay to settle it,For you will die before six hours are over!”Philoxenus replied, “All my affairs,O Doctor, are well ended and arrangedLong, long ago; but now, since deadly fateCalls me away, who can’t be disobeyed,That I may go below with all my goods,Bring me the relics of that polypus!”
They say Philoxenus, the ancient poet
Of Dithyrambics, was so wonderfully
Attached to fish, that once at Syracuse
He bought a polypus two cubits long,
Then dress’d it, and then ate it up himself,
All but the head—and afterwards fell sick,
Seized with a sharp attack of indigestion.
Then when some doctor came to him to see him
Who saw that he was greatly out of order;
“If,” said the doctor, “you have any business
Not well arranged, do not delay to settle it,
For you will die before six hours are over!”
Philoxenus replied, “All my affairs,
O Doctor, are well ended and arranged
Long, long ago; but now, since deadly fate
Calls me away, who can’t be disobeyed,
That I may go below with all my goods,
Bring me the relics of that polypus!”
We learn something of the most approved methods of cooking the “cuttle-fishes” and “squids” from the following passages. Sotades, in his play entitled “The Shut-up Women,” introduces a cook, who makes a speech in which these molluscs are mentioned:—
A fine dish is the squill, when carefully cook’d,But the rich cuttle-fish is eaten plain;Though I did stuff them all with a rich forced-meatOf almost every kind of herb and flower.
A fine dish is the squill, when carefully cook’d,But the rich cuttle-fish is eaten plain;Though I did stuff them all with a rich forced-meatOf almost every kind of herb and flower.
A fine dish is the squill, when carefully cook’d,
But the rich cuttle-fish is eaten plain;
Though I did stuff them all with a rich forced-meat
Of almost every kind of herb and flower.
Alexis, in his “Wicked Woman,” also introduces a cook, who speaks as follows:—
Now these three cuttle-fish I have just boughtFor one small drachma. And when I’ve cut offTheir feelers and their fins, I then shall boil them;And, cutting up the main part of their meatInto small discs, and rubbing in some salt,After the guests already are sat downI then shall put them in the frying-pan,And serve up hot towards the end of supper.
Now these three cuttle-fish I have just boughtFor one small drachma. And when I’ve cut offTheir feelers and their fins, I then shall boil them;And, cutting up the main part of their meatInto small discs, and rubbing in some salt,After the guests already are sat downI then shall put them in the frying-pan,And serve up hot towards the end of supper.
Now these three cuttle-fish I have just bought
For one small drachma. And when I’ve cut off
Their feelers and their fins, I then shall boil them;
And, cutting up the main part of their meat
Into small discs, and rubbing in some salt,
After the guests already are sat down
I then shall put them in the frying-pan,
And serve up hot towards the end of supper.
Eriphus says, in his “Melibœa:”—
These things poor men cannot afford to buy;—The entrails of the tunny, or the headOf greedy pike, or conger, or cuttle-fish,Which I don’t think the gods above despise.
These things poor men cannot afford to buy;—The entrails of the tunny, or the headOf greedy pike, or conger, or cuttle-fish,Which I don’t think the gods above despise.
These things poor men cannot afford to buy;—
The entrails of the tunny, or the head
Of greedy pike, or conger, or cuttle-fish,
Which I don’t think the gods above despise.
Athenæus cites a great many more authors, who testify to the esteem in which the cephalopoda were held in the olden times, as the constituents of dainty dishes.
Cuttle-fishes are employed as bait by fishermen, and, by their abundance at certain seasons in the neighbourhood of Newfoundland, they exercise an important influence on the cod-fishery; thus playing, as D’Orbigny remarks, an important part in the commerce of the most flourishing nations of Europe.
From a letter from Mr. W. E. Cormack, an intelligent Newfoundland merchant, who distinguished himself by being the first European who succeeded in crossing Newfoundland—communicated by Professor Jameson to the “Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal” (1826, p. 32)—we learn that more than a hundred millions of cod are caught annually with cuttle-fish as bait, about two hundred millions with the capelin, and one hundred millions with herrings and “shell-fish.”
Poole, in Dorsetshire, has long been one of the principal ports and depôts of the Newfoundland trade. My friend Mr. Wm. Penney of that town, very kindly obtained for me, in compliance with my request, some authentic recent information on the subject from a gentleman who for many years resided in Newfoundland, as the agent of a Poole firm. He writes:—
“My friend Mr. E——, who has spent some years in Newfoundland, informs me that the bait used for the cod-fishery there at the commencement of May is the herring; during June, July, and August, the capelin; and about the end of August, and throughout September they use the squids, which come into the bays in great abundance. They are caught by means of a “jigger,” which is a conical piece of lead, round the circumference of the base of which are inserted eight or ten hooks. The fishermen go out in punts squid-jigging of an evening, to catch the bait required for the next day’s fishing. About 100 or more squids are caught by each boat, and thousands of them are taken during the season about 150 or 200 yards from the shore, in tolerably deep water. In many stations more than a dozen boats are engaged in squid-catching. During the squid-jigging the fishermen hollo and shout, and make a great noise; for what purposeMr. E—— does not know. All parts of the squid are cut up, and used as bait; what is not required the next day is thrown away or given to the pigs. In the northern district, between Cape Freels and Cape St. John, the fishing spots are at Robin’s Cave Head, and Friday’s Bay, on the anchorage ground. The fishing takes place about sun-down. The squid is of an oval form, and resembles somewhat our cuttle-fish, but it has no solid bone. The length of the body is from eight inches to a foot, and it is about two inches in diameter. The flesh is said by the fishermen to be remarkably sweet and good eating, and to be excellent fried. About the end of September the squid disappears, and herring are then again caught: thus herring forms the bait for the fishery at the commencement and end of the fishing season. Mr. E—— believes that the squid is caught and used for bait all round Newfoundland, but he can only speak with certainty of the northern district.”
I learn from other sources that the same mode of fishing is followed in other parts of Newfoundland, and that hundreds of boats are engaged during September in “jigging;” a crew of three men usually taking from one hundred to five hundred in a day. The squids come into the bays in such vast shoals that sometimes, during violent gales, hundreds of tons of them are thrown up together in beds on the flat beaches, and their decay spreads an intolerable effluvium around.[26]
The Greek fishermen use, as a “jigger,” the bone of theSepiasurrounded with hooks, believing it to be more attractive than the leaden weight above described.
This mode of catching squid is of very early origin. It was a common practice in Oppian’s time, although the “jigger” he describes was somewhat different from that now in use. He writes:—
Forslevesa slender shaft the swain providesCylindric, like a distaff: round the sidesAdjacent hooks their radiant files extend,With points supine the dreadful rows descend,To silent deeps the fatal engine slides,The steely curves a painted rainbow hides.The incurious sleve invades his artful fate,And throws his branching snouts around the bait.Within the hooks the thready tendrils twine,Entangled in th’ embrace they would resign.In vain to disengage his hold he tries,In his own chains the self-caught captive dies.
Forslevesa slender shaft the swain providesCylindric, like a distaff: round the sidesAdjacent hooks their radiant files extend,With points supine the dreadful rows descend,To silent deeps the fatal engine slides,The steely curves a painted rainbow hides.The incurious sleve invades his artful fate,And throws his branching snouts around the bait.Within the hooks the thready tendrils twine,Entangled in th’ embrace they would resign.In vain to disengage his hold he tries,In his own chains the self-caught captive dies.
Forslevesa slender shaft the swain provides
Cylindric, like a distaff: round the sides
Adjacent hooks their radiant files extend,
With points supine the dreadful rows descend,
To silent deeps the fatal engine slides,
The steely curves a painted rainbow hides.
The incurious sleve invades his artful fate,
And throws his branching snouts around the bait.
Within the hooks the thready tendrils twine,
Entangled in th’ embrace they would resign.
In vain to disengage his hold he tries,
In his own chains the self-caught captive dies.
Oppian also describes another method of taking cuttles, which in some localities is still resorted to at certain seasons. The fishermen fasten the end of a line round a living female octopus or sepia, and lower her down towards a rocky bottom. On the male coming to woo he comes to woe, for both are pulled up together.
There is nothing incredible in this. The Japanese, at the present day, use a spawning female fish as a lure for others of the same species. Having found one nearly, but not quite, ready to deposit her roe, they squeeze from her a portion of it, which hangs suspended from the body, and then anchor her near the shore by a hook and line. The males are instinctively drawn to the spot, a seine is shot round them, and all are easily taken. A similar process is commonly resorted to by entomologists for the capture of rare species of moths and butterflies.
Cuttles are often caught in the Adriatic by sinking in the sea branches of trees and faggots, which entice them, as being suitable spawning ground and offering good anchorage for their eggs.
It is somewhat remarkable that whilst the octopus shuns the light and retreats from that of a lanthorn, the cuttle and squid areattracted by it. At Trincomalee, at certain seasons of the year, the bay is illuminated during the night by hundreds of lights of fishing boats moving hither and thither. A dead cuttle is generally the bait used. This is suspended in the water, and when hauled in from time to time, one or more of its species are found fast to it, and feeding on their deceased relative. When removed from the water they emit a peculiar “squelching” noise, which has been compared to the grunting of a hog. It appears to me to be caused by the forcing of air, instead of water, through the syphon tube.[27]
They are also frequently taken by spearing, as described by Edward Forbes; and my friend, Mr. Henry Woodward, F.R.S., mentions[28]having seen in a curious Japanese book, preserved in the British Museum, a picture of a man in a boat engaged in catching cuttle-fishes with a spear, and also of a fishmonger’s shop in Japan at which a number of enormous cuttle-fishes are represented hanging up for sale.
The crystalline lens of the eye, which is soft in quadrupeds, and cartilaginous in fishes, is very solid in the cephalopoda. It is almost calcareous, and very peculiar in its form. It consists of two double concave portions, divided by a deep groove, in which are inserted the ciliary processes. The two halves, which are almost globose at their outer surfaces, separate easily, and exhibit internally a series of concentric coats, which reflect light with abeautiful nacreous opalescence and play of colours. In some parts of Italy the women use these lenses as beads for necklaces. I have seen them thus worn at Genoa on festival days. They appear also to have been used as ornaments by the ancient Peruvians. Dr. J. E. Gray, in his “Spicilegia Zoologica,” published in 1828, says that the Rev. Mr. Hennah brought to this country several of a large size which he found in the tombs and old habitations of the natives; and that Mr. Stutchbury had informed him that the Sandwich Islanders sold these lustrous eyes to the Russians as pearls.
The “cuttle-bone” or dorsal plate ofSepia, sometimes called “sea-biscuit,” from its shape and its being frequently found floating on the surface of the water, is used, when pounded, as polishing powder, by jewellers, and, under the name of “pounce,” to smooth writing-paper where an erasure has been made with a penknife. Known as “white coral powder,” it used to be regarded as the very best dentifrice,[29]and was formerly prescribed in medicine as an antacid and absorbent.
The Roman ladies employed it, burned and pulverised, as a cosmetic for the face; and it was, no doubt, a good substitute for the “pearl powder” now in fashion. Broken pieces of it are also occasionally placed between the wires of the cages of song-birds, for them to peck at, instead of chalk or other calcareous substances.
The “ink” which the cuttle-fish has the power of ejecting when alarmed, for the purpose of obscuring the water and hiding its own retreat, was formerly used in writing. Cicero mentions this use of it, and from it is also made the true “sepia” of artists. I have more than once lately seen it stated that the ink of the cuttle-fish is no longer employed for this purpose, and that “sepia” is now prepared from lamp-black. A great deal of rubbish of this kind is probably sold; but I have recently seenat Messrs. Newman’s, the well-known artists’ colourmen, in Soho Square, thousands of the ink-bags of cuttles in the raw state, ready to be manufactured into “sepia.” The fishermen of some of our southern counties, when cleaning cuttles and squids for bait, habitually dry the ink-bags and their contents, and preserve them until Messrs. Newman’s agent visits the district and collects them. If the Newfoundland fishermen, when “squid-jigging,” would take the trouble to preserve the ink-bags, they would find a ready sale for them, and might make of them a profitable perquisite. The beautiful drawings with which Cuvier illustrated his “Anatomy of the Mollusca” were executed with the ink which he had collected whilst dissecting many specimens of the cephalopoda; and it is well known that fossil cuttle-fishes have been found with the ink-bag perfect, and that from its contents excellent “sepia” has been obtained. Some of these ink-bags found in the lias, associated with traces of the “pen” or inner shell, are nearly twelve inches long, and must have belonged to calamaries of gigantic size. It is an oft-told anecdote that the late Dr. Buckland gave some of this fossil ink to Sir Francis Chantrey, who pronounced it to be of unusually good quality, and with it made a drawing of the specimen from which it was taken. This drawing is now in the possession of Dean Buckland’s son and Sir Francis’s godson, my friend Frank Buckland. I have also seen a cake of fossil sepia prepared by Messrs. Newman for Professor Dick, of Cambridge, about the year 1850, which rubs as smoothly, and is as rich in colour, as that manufactured from the ink of recent cuttle-fishes.